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hyunjilicious · 3 years

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a helping hand [henry cavill] - part 3

A/n: I know it took me ages, and I'm sorry, but it's finally here!! I don't know when part 4 will be up, but I know the plot, and by the time you finish reading this, you'll know it too!! Filth is coming. Also, since I posted the first 2 parts weeks ago, under the cut you'll find a small summary of what happened so far! Ofc, I'm linking the previous parts as well! Have fun reading, sorry for taking me so long, and please, don't hesitate to tell me what you thought! (I’ll reblog it with the taglist, otherwise it doesn’t show up in the tags!)

Summary: after Henry lost it during a fit of jealousy, he sneaked into your apartment, his actions having some very different repercussions from what he initially intended. SMUT 3.9k

Warnings: please be over 18!!! mentions of smut, masturbation (male receiving), sightly/some somnophilia, stalker-ish/obsessed Henry, cum play if you squint and ofc, mentions of filming and sharing pornographic material. 18+ please!!!!

You can find part 1 here and part 2 here!

Quick recap: Henry's crush on his very sweet and younger neighbour (you lol) grew into something else when you asked him for help with taking some pictures for your onlyfans account. Following this, your relationship reached a very teasing level, which prompted Henry to take matters into his own hands, even if that meant crossing some lines. So when he found out that you and a specific man from your past were on a voice call, he just had to know what exactly was being discussed. This jealousy fit had him using his spare key to enter your apartment and eavesdrop, and this is where chapter 2 ends. Have fun reading the next part!!!

“No” you sighed, waving your arms around, desperate to get your point across. But it was mostly useless, nothing even remotely decent would ever manage to penetrate Steve’s thick skull. He was a dumbass with a heart of gold, so you couldn’t even blame him for messing things up on purpose, you just learned the hard way not to take his advice under any circumstance. “No, Steve. I won’t do that. Not a chance!”

“Hun-” he scoffed, rolling his eyes as a smirk showed up on his lips, “When have I ever been wrong?”

“Really!?” you giggled and then sighed, “Listen, I gotta go to the bathroom and you’d better forget about this topic by the time I come back”

“Wait, wait. Ok, fine. Scratch that” Steve laughed, stopping you from getting up, “When have I ever been wrong on purpose?”

“Listen, I know you’re just trying to help” you smiled, “But I don’t think your experience in seducing girls with daddy issues benefits my situation in any kind of way”

“‘Course it does! I can give you some perspective!”

“Perspective on what?” you mocked, playfully frowning at him through the screen on your laptop, “You and Henry have nothing in common”

“The dick for one” Steve joked but when he saw you roll your eyes, he became serious, “I’m just tryin to help you hook up with the guy! That’s all”

“See!?” you laughed, already exasperated by the conversation, “I’m not trying to hook up with him, I want something more…”

Your sentence was cut short by the sound of a door closing. Your blood ran cold and your hands froze, eyes staring blankly into the camera.

“Y/n?” Steve asked with worry, “What’s wrong?”

“Wait here” you mumbled, pushing the laptop off of you and rushing to the door of your bedroom. You pressed your ear against it, and listened closely, the sound of a lock being turned chilling you to your bones. With shaky hands, you stumbled your way back to your bed, and looked into the camera, directly at a somewhat already worried Steve. “I gotta go-”

“Wait-” Steve tried to ask, “Are you-”

“Yeah, I’m fine, talk to you later” you hurriedly mumbled before ending the call. Your fingers flew across the screen of your phone, finding Henry’s name and pressing the green button in the blink of an eye.

And had he not been this utterly stupid and reckless, none of this would have happened. His impulsivity got the best of him, and panic rushed through his veins when he heard you were about to head to the bathroom. Pressure did him no good, and the first thing that came to mind at that point was to bolt out of there, knowing there was absolutely no way to explain what he was doing in your apartment. But his shaky hands were of no help, and the dexterity he earlier proved himself capable of was nowhere to be found. However, he didn’t care. He just stormed out, happy to finally breathe again as soon as he was out of your apartment - but when his phone vibrated in his pocket, he felt like dying all over again.

With your heart beating inside your throat, you grabbed your bedside lamp into your free hand, and curled yourself into a ball in the corner of your room, opposite to the door, the sound of the ongoing call being the only thing you heard over the loud buzz in your ears.

“Yeah?” Henry’s voice rang loudly when he finally answered, making you all but jump with fright.

Had you paid more attention, you’d have noticed he too sounded out of breath, but you were too out of it to tell. All you could think about was the psycho what was at your door.

“Henry-” you cried, voice shaky as the intake of air was no longer satisfying. You were hyperventilating, sweating from every pore, scared out of your mind.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice more stern now. “Y/n? Are you ok?”

“Yeah- yeah…” you said on autopilot, mind on standby. “No…” You whimpered, “Henry, can you- I think someone is trying to break into my house, I-”

“What!?” he gasped, “I’m sure no one-”

“Henry!” you cried into the phone, “Can you please look through your peephole? Please?”

He sounded confused, but you didn’t have to ask him twice. You heard a bit of shuffling before his voice reached your ears again, “There’s no one there, there’s no one at your door, you can relax”

“No-” you whimpered, unable to calm down, “Henry, please-!”

“I’m coming over right now,” he said.

“No! No, what if they’re still in the hallway?”

“There’s no one there, love” Henry tried to reassure you. When you heard him unlock the door of his apartment your heart stopped, but after that, everything was quiet.

“Are you ok?” you muttered, wiping your nose with your sleeve.

“Yes, love. I’m fine” Henry lightly chuckled, “I’m at your door, can you open up?”

“No” you scoffed, “What if someone got in?”

“No one got in” he tried to explain, but your adrenaline soaked brain refused to comply.

“Henry, take the spare key I gave you” you suggested, “And grab a knife”

Seeing how affected and terrified you were, Henry didn’t argue with you anymore. In a matter of seconds, you heard the door of your apartment being unlocked, Henry assuring you through the phone that it was him. When he walked inside, you remained hidden in your spot. He checked the kitchen and the living room, coming up to finally enter the bedroom. When your eyes landed on his massive frame, you breathed out relieved and rushed to him, throwing yourself into his arms. There was no other place on Earth you felt as safe as you did when he was holding you.

“Shh, you’re ok, you’re good” Henry cooed, cradling you to his chest, “I got you, baby, ok? I’m here”

But there was no stopping you. You broke down entirely, holding onto him as your legs gave in, turning into a mess. Henry carried you to the bed, sitting you down and allowing you to calm down at your own pace.

“I’m here, ok?” he asked again, rubbing your back, “I won’t let anything happen to you, Y/n, you know that. You’re safe, I got you”

It was impossible to tell just how long it took you to fully calm down, but it was safe to say that it would have taken hours longer had Henry not been there with you. When you were finally able to properly breathe again and hold a conversation, you looked up at him, big doe eyes hoping to convince him without too much of a fuss. “Can you stay here with me, please? I can’t be alone right now”

With nothing but sympathy in his eyes, Henry leaned down and kissed your forehead, “Don’t you think it would be better if we went over to my place instead?”

“No” you shook your head, “And leave the apartment unattended? I don’t think that’s a good idea”

His heart broke. Being his usual, impulsive self, Henry managed to break you down and terrify you to your core. As much as he wanted to reassure you everything would be fine, he couldn’t. He couldn’t just tell you it was him who broke into your apartment in the middle of a jealousy breakdown. So, he settled for the second best option, and really, he couldn’t complain.

It was late in the afternoon on a Sunday, no locksmith on the clock. Seeing how you’d have to wait until the next morning, he was more than happy to spend that time with you.

As time started to pass, you also started to relax.

The day slowly wilted a way, as both you and Henry made yourselves busy around your apartment. He wasted a couple of hours installing games on your school laptop as you took a bath, he then cooked you dinner, and by the time the night rolled around, you were your usual bubbly self again. And after watching and laughing your hearts out at Jack Nicholson in As Good As It Gets, sleep started to creep up on you.

Henry placed one of your kitchen chairs under the doorknob before turning to give you a massive hug, “No one can get in, darling. I promise”

“Thank god you live across the hall” you confessed, snaking your arms under his hoodie as you gathered yourself as close to him as possible. “What would I have done otherwise?”

“You don’t have to worry about that” Henry kissed your forehead, “I’ll always be here when you need me”

And in that moment, right there, stopping yourself from kissing him turned out to be the most difficult thing you ever had to do. Instead, you settled for his cheek, before hiding your face against his shoulder. “I’ll always be here for you too”

“Thank you, angel” Henry breathed out.

There really was nothing on this earth you loved more than this man.

Getting ready to go to sleep, you changed in your pajamas, while all Henry did was take off his hoodie. With your toothbrush lodged between your teeth, you lingered in the door frame, watching the muscles of his back flex as he bent down and put his phone down to charge.

Toothpaste and drool could very well have dribbled down your chin as you stood and gawked, only releasing you were staring when Henry turned around and a smile made its way up his lips. “Yes?” he laughed, but all you did was look him up and down, before returning to the bathroom with a shake of your head.

“Oh, Y/n?” Henry called again, following you, “Where can I find a blanket or some sheets?”

First you squinted, but then you decided it would be best if you just finished brushing your teeth before anything else. After rinsing your mouth, you turned to look at him, utterly unamused. “What for?”

“So I don’t have to sleep on leather?”

“You’re sleeping with me” you rolled your eyes, grabbing his elbow and dragging him into the bathroom so he could get ready for bed too. “Not up for discussion”

“Ok” Henry chuckled, looking at you in the mirror. “But I snore”

As if that would make you reconsider. You walked away and into your room, settling under the covers, without another word. About 10 minutes later, Henry joined you.

He fit in like a piece of puzzle and you didn’t even try to keep yourself from cuddling into his side. Sinking his head down between the multitude of pillows on your bed, you giggled, crawling on top of him. Without thinking too much about it, you kissed your way down his neck, peppering tens of kisses against his naked chest. You felt his heartbeat under your palm as he breathed in and out slowly, smiling down at you as he enjoyed the view.

“Thanks for doing this for me” you mumbled, rubbing your hand up and down his chiseled abdomen.

“Really, Y/n” Henry said, wrapping his arms around you, “There’s no need to thank me. Plus, you think I’m not enjoying this?”

“Oh shut up” you giggled. The amount of small talk that followed turned out to be exactly what you needed in order to allow your eyes to peacefully close. Despite the events of earlier in the evening, you now felt safer than ever before.

It was just a matter of time until soft snores started escaping past your lips, your chest rising and falling every so softly as you drifted out of consciousness.

But Henry’s mind was nowhere near relaxed enough to drift off. No. You were too close to him, too innocent and vulnerable for him to just let this moment pass. The way you had just thrown one of your legs over his lap drove him insane - your bare thigh too accessible to him.

At first, he just tested the waters. A peck to the top of your head, and a small caress against the back of your hand. You were completely out, and that accentuated his need further.

Slowly moving his free arm down his body, Henry brushed his fingers over his clothed member, grunting out loud when he felt the sensibility in his tip. He bit into his bottom lip out of need to keep quiet, teasing himself just a little as he struggled to decide how to go about things. With the way you were laying right now, it was next to impossible for him to free himself without moving you. And even though at the beginning he tried to avoid that, when you stirred in your sleep, your body rubbing up against his, he lost all kinds of patience.

As softly as he could, Henry pushed your leg back, just a little. Even in your sleep, you craved his touch, as when you felt movement, you involuntarily shuffled closer, but much to his relief, your legs remained on the mattress.

Eagerness controlled his actions as he pushed his pants down his thighs, propping his hips up with difficulty. When his underwear was pulled down and his cock sprung free, Henry hissed with unmatched satisfaction. With his hand wrapped around his base and his eyes on you, he swallowed thickly, his heart beating out of his chest with a demented sense of bliss.

"My baby-" Henry cooed, rubbing his lips across your hairline as he started stroking his cock.

His movements were slow but not calculated in any way. His brain was occupied, forcing his hand to work on muscle memory. But still, he teased himself, rubbing his thumb across his slit just like he liked to think you would.

The fear of getting caught was at an all time high as you stirred again. He froze for a second, "That's my good girl-" Henry whispered, looking down at your sleeping frame. As much as he wanted you to take an active part in this, he knew better than to risk it.

It was getting more and more difficult to breathe, his back sweating profusely as he pumped himself closer to the edge. His hips bucked, causing the bed frame to creak. Instantly, he stilled, eyes on you, but all you did was rub your cheek against his chest, completely unaware of your surroundings.

"I'm so close for you, my darling" Henry groaned, his throat paper dry as the words left his lips. All he could hear was his own breathing and the unmistakable perverse sound of slapping skin, but still, even above all of that, you kept on peacefully snoring.

The arm Henry looped around your frame was now traveling lower, his palm exploring your side until he reached your ass. He softly gripped a handful of your bum, squeezing hard enough to make up for the struggle of not allowing himself to finish too early. But it was reckless and maybe he shouldn't have done so, as his touch all but woke you up.

Still overwhelmed with sleep, you barely pushed yourself up, eyes closed as you slightly changed your position. You were now laying higher up his body, your head almost falling off his shoulder. Your breathing tickled the side of his neck as you snaked your arm up and looped it around his frame. Biting down hard on his bottom hip, Henry felt ridiculous amounts of blood rush to the tip of his cock as you refused to settle already.

Rubbing the tip of your nose across his jugular, still mostly out but not fully, you peaked your eyes open, “Henry-?”

“Y- yeah?” he swallowed thickly, freezing in his spot.

“Why’re you awake?” you mumbled.

“Just woke up- had a weird dream, that’s all”

You believed the lie without an ounce of doubt, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Yes” he whispered, “But in the morning. Sorry I woke you up, go back to sleep, darling”

“Ok” you sighed, kissed his bare shoulder and allowed yourself to drift off again.

Henry licked his lips in a haze, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as sweat worked his entire body. God, how he regretted getting himself in his position, but his cock was full on hard, all but leaking at the tip, not so patiently waiting to receive any kind of attention again. He sucked in a deep breath, eyes on you to make sure you were asleep.

His heart skipped a beat as your mouth popped open, but your light snores came as the strongest form of reassurance, and he resumed his work. The anxiety of getting caught fueled him, and the heels of his feet dug into the mattress, his hips bucking upwards as he furiously pumped his cock.

It was all getting too much. He was close. Henry threw his head back trying to suppress a moan, but he miserably failed. A choked back wail escaped his now dry lips as his whole body tensed. He squeezed you closer, his fingers lewdly digging into the sweet flesh of your ass. He was crossing many lines but that didn't stop him. He didn't see things clear anymore. His chest heaved, rushing up and down as he fisted his cock, biting into his lower lip as he watched your peaceful expression.

It was pure, dumb luck that he managed to spot a pack of napkins laying on the night stand mere seconds before he came. His juices eagerly ran down his shaft as he flew through his orgasm, his saviour napkin proving almost useless.

Coming down from his high, he all but managed to calm down, but his mind was still set. He would never get enough of you. And no matter how many times he'd cum, he'd still be down to go again. You had that power over him.

"Fuck…" Henry panted. And in the blur of the moment he created, he didn't even stop to process his thoughts. Gathering the few droplets of cum that landed on his stomach, he brought his hand up to your face, his thumb rubbing across your lips.

In that moment, then and there, when you unconsciously wrapped your lips around his finger, he almost lost it all over again.

"Holy-" he cried again, kissing your forehead. As eager and willing as he was to keep going, Henry stopped himself. He tucked the napkins next to the foot of the bed, pulled his pants back up his hips and settled under the covers.

Sleep didn't come easy, but he eventually drifted off. Unfortunately, the clock had almost struck 3am by the time he closed his eyes, and no later than 6:15, your alarm went off.

"No" you protested, wiggling around in search of your phone. "No school- no, thank you"

Eyes closed and cheek squished into the pillow, Henry raised his arm and found the phone with ease, handing it to you without a word.

Squinting under the bright light of the screen, you dismissed the alarm and snuggled back into Henry's chest, his arms wrapping around your body in an instant.

And as heavenly as this felt, it only lasted for about 5 minutes, until your alarm went off again.

"Just turn it off" Henry laughed, kissing your forehead, "I'll wake you up after I make breakfast"

"You don't have to" you protested, throwing in a whine or two as you curled yourself around him.

"I want to"

"No"

"Y/n…"

"Ok fine" you sighed, "Thank you"

"No need darling" Henry chuckled and stood up. He once again pecked the top of your head and then he was gone. About one second and a half later, you were asleep again, only to complain when Henry woke you up.

"It's 7" he stated, gathering the blanket in his arms and allowing the cold air to reach your body.

"Give it back" you cried.

"Is that how it's gonna be?" Henry threatened, and despite his dominating tone, you still refused to take him seriously. When you hid your face between the pillows, he deeply sighed, but satisfaction was still audible in his tone. "Fine then"

Taking you completely by surprise, Henry bent down and gathered you in his arms, throwing you over his shoulder with absolute ease.

"Henry-" you yelled, "The fuck-"

"Not gonna be late, Y/n" Henry laughed, "Not on my watch"

"God" you giggled along and allowed yourself to be carried to the kitchen.

As soon as he walked out of the bedroom, a delicious smell reached your nose. It was probably the first real breakfast you'd had in weeks, so you weren't going to complain anymore. Fresh coffee, toast, avocado, pancakes, hard boiled eggs and a multitude of veggies and fruit awaited on the table.

"I didn't even know I had all this food in my house"

"You didn't-" Henry shook his head, sitting down beside you, "Grabbed them from my place"

"You shouldn't have, but thank you"

"No need" he assured you, "Dig in"

When you were done, and right before you headed to the bathroom to get ready, you turned to him again. "Do you know the number of any locksmiths? I really wanna change the locks"

Following a quick Google search, Henry found a multitude of ads, and after choosing the most trustworthy looking one, he dialed the number as you patiently waited beside him.

Everything seemed to go perfectly well, until he frowned, "No, today pl- [...] No, I'm not locked out of my- [...] You sure-? Ok, ok fine. Ok, tomorrow, first thing, ok, thanks"

"They can't come today?" you pouted as soon as he hung up.

"No, I'm sorry" Henry shook his head, and seeing the disappointment plastered on your face, he spoke up again. "I can stay one more night, if you want to. I'll sleep in the living room-"

"What? No" you scoffed, "It's not that…"

"What is it then?" he questioned, starting to get worried.

You hesitated. "Its no-"

"Don't tell me it's nothing" Henry commanded, pointing a finger at you. A smile appeared at the corner of your lips as you rolled your eyes.

"Ok, fine. I just- I just had to film today for the- you know… That's all, but I can do it some other day"

Henry didn't answer until a smirk tilted the corner of his lips upwards. "Or I could help you?"

"Help me?" you gawked.

"Yeah" he nonchalantly shrugged, "Helped you once before, didn't I?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah" he smiled, "Only if you me want to, of course"

Your knees weakened and your heart was beating in all the wrong ways, so all you managed to do was giggle and shake your head in disbelief. "Well, yeah... I want to"

How were you going to tell him that the video was supposed to be of you fucking yourself with a baby pink dildo? And how exactly was he going to help? You had a long day ahead of you and the ridiculous amounts of school work you had to get done in the meantime didn't allow you to give these questions any kind of priority. All you wanted was for the evening to come around already even if you sweated profusely just at the thought of what was to come.

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #walter marshall x reader #august walker x reader #geralt of rivia x you

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alovesongshewrote · 3 years

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Drink Me | Killian Jones

Plot: You get super drunk and the infamous captain makes sure you don’t drown yourself by mistake [Killian Jones | Captain Hook x GenderNeutral!Reader]

Word Count: 972

Warnings: you’re really drunk, and you flirt with hook, and you really wanna go swimming in the ocean in the middle of the night

A/N: wow, wtf is this, lovesong making more than one post in a day??? that hasn’t happened since they started this blog (i know, i know, i just got hit with motivation out of left frickin field and now we’re here)

Taglist: @blixeon

“Okay! Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, but consider-” you slurred, “Apparently, red wine is like, good for your heart or some shit, so like, ‘s better. Wine is better.”

“It is not. And where did you pull that little fact from, the interwebs?”

“It’s the internet, and yes, I did get that fact from the internet. Fuckin’ love the internet. I love her. Maybe even more than wine.”

“Really?”

“Mhmmmmm! And I frickin loveee wine.”

“I still believe that if there’s anything worth drinking, it’s rum.”

“Right. Totally. Rum isssss totally so much better. Totally. Soooooooo, so- so, so, so, so, so, so, much better.”

Your companion only sighed, raising his hook and his hand as if to surrender at the sound of your drunken sarcasm. You, however, would not let him off so easily.

It was his own fault, in a sense. He had stumbled across you drinking and decided to join you for a round or two… or twelve. You weren’t a lightweight by any means, but he was a pirate with a couple centuries of drinking behind him. It was safe to say he could drink you under the table. It wasn’t like you were keeping him there, either. Killian Jones was free to leave at any time, but alas, he stuck by you and even managed to get you home safely.

You would owe him one, or twelve when you sobered up. For now, though, you were a chaotic disaster and he, the tired pirate who’d decided to deal with you. And that was one hell of a job.

“You know what would be so fun right now?”

“I’m afraid to ask, love.”

“Fuckinnnnnn night swimming. IIIIIIIiiiii think I’m gonna go fuckin,,,, jump in the ocean, like, does that not sound like a good time? That sounds like a good time.”

You stood up to go and… jump in the ocean, I guess when your pirate wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you from making several bad decisions, “As much as I would love to watch you jump into the ocean, I don’t think you’re in the best state to do it-”

“I’m in the best state to do you.”

If the infamous pirate captain had been drinking, he would have choked on it. Instead, he choked on air, coughing harshly before speaking again, “I beg your pardon, love?”

“Then beg.”

Killian, still in a state of shock, took a second to respond, “Right, well, for one thing, you’ve used that line before. And for another, I don’t beg.”

“Yeahhhh, sureee thing Jones. Sure thing,” you rolled your eyes before making a tiny little squeaking noise and leaning so far back that you almost fell off your counter. Once again, it was your captain to the rescue.

“Okay, I think it’s time for you to sleep.”

“Is it though? Or is it time for night swimming?”

“Aye- a- aye to the first one. You are not going night swimming.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I assure you, one day, when you are sober, we can find out just how fun I can be, but for now, you are taking a nap.”

There was silence for a moment while you stared up at him, allowing yourself a much longer look than your sober self would have dared to try.

“What is it? Is there something-”

“You’re really pretty.”

Once again, the pirate was stunned to silence, this time, without choking.

“I’m sure you’ll think very differently when you wake up, love.”

“I doubt it. Sober (Y/N) also thinks you’re pretty, they just don’t have the balls to say anything about it.”

“Really? Well, I’ll have to ask Sober (Y/N) about that the next I see them.”

“Damnnnnn right,” and that was the last thing you said before you let yourself go limp in Killian’s arms. It was just as well. Getting you to walk to your room in your drunken state would have been a bit of a nightmare, so it seemed that carrying you to your room would have been the only viable option no matter what you did.

Your pirate, once you were in his arms, had no problem navigating his way to your room. He placed you, gently, on your bed, and threw a blanket over you. He was on his way out when he took a second look at you. Your eyes were wide open when in the hallway, they’d been closed.

“You alright?”

“Do you think God lives in heaven because he fears what he’s created?”

For the third time that night, you caught Captain Hook way off guard. For a few moments, he stared at you, blankly, before staring at the wall, pondering an answer. You patted the space on the bed next to you, and he sat down, the bed dipping under his weight. For another minute, there was silence before you pulled him down to lie next to you. After that, you rolled over onto your side.

“Don’t think about it too hard, Jones. It’s a quote from Spy Kids 2. Goodnight!”

Four. Four times in one night, you stunned that man to silence. He took a look at your sleeping form before staring up at your ceiling and coming up with an answer to your question, one that would have shocked even you. The decision that if there was a god, and if he lived in heaven, he was missing the best parts of the world he’d created. Rum. The ocean. You. All were good examples, and all were things that trapped him in his mind until he unintentionally fell asleep beside you.

In the morning, you would have a massive hangover, one that Killian fully intended to laugh at you for, as he should. For the night, though, you both slept and dreamt of each other and the sea.

#killian jones #killian jones imagine #killian jones x reader #once upon a time x reader #captain hook x reader #hook x reader #killian x reader #x readers #x reader #drinking #drinking mt #drunk characters

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rachelbethhines · 3 years

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Be Very Afraid

This is the best story arc episode in season three and arguably the best written episode since The Great Tree, but it’s still season three so there are still issues with it.

Summary: When Zhan Tiri tells Cassandra she must destroy Rapunzel in order to wield the Moonstone's true power, Cassandra discovers that she can create, with fear, red rock spikes that cause fear and freeze their victims. Varian discovers the red rocks and teams up with Rapunzel to use his amber solution on them. Meanwhile, Eugene and Lance decide to throw a talent show to distract everyone from their fears.

Why Can’t Cassandra Control The Rocks?

The series never gives an actual explanation for this. She could control them just fine in Rapunzel’s Return, so what’s changed?

There is No Destiny!

There’s no prophecy, no oracle, no grand design nor master of fate to fight back against; the characters literally have no reason to do what they do. If you want destiny to be a goal then you have to establish what that destiny is first.

What does Cassandra want? How does this connect back to Gothel, Rapunzel, and the Moonstone? Why she just failing about like an idiot here? Did she not have a plan when she threw her life away for this stupid rock?

And of course Zhan Tiri is lying here, but why should Cassandra believe her? What does she gain by listening to a creepy ghost girl? This ‘destiny’ has not been established, so therefore there’s no hook nor bait for Zhan Tiri to trap her with.

Leading directly into “you should kill your bestie’ should logically put Cassandra off of Zhan Tiri’s advice for good because Zhan Tiri isn’t actually offering anything. Temptation requires the person to be, you know, tempted by what they want, but Cassandra doesn’t know what she wants so none of this makes sense.

The writing is desperately trying to make Cass sympathetic here, but all it winds up doing is making her look like a moron instead.

This Isn’t Consistent

Not only does this fail to explain why Cass could control the rocks previously but no longer can, but it’s also contradicted just a couple of episodes later with the incantation bullshit.

You need an established magic system in place in order for the character’s actions to make sense show!

This Ultimately Goes Nowhere

Ignoring how Varian should have been in season two and how translating the scroll should have led to freeing his father, which we’ve talked about previously; this subplot should have had more impact on the narrative than it actually did. Yes, Varian’s translation winds up driving the plot of Cassandra’s Revenge, but 90% of that episode winds up being utterly pointless, including the incantations themselves, so....

I Like This Sequence; Shame It Winds Up Being Undermined Later

Unlike the majority of dream sequences in this show, this nightmare has an actual point. It more firmly establishes Varian’s fears and gives the audience some insight into what happened to him back in season one. Something we were sorely lacking. It also becomes the core conflict and drive of Varian’s character development through out the episode.

Only for the episode to ignore Varian’s real issues and fail to adequately address anything. By series end this plot point will be completely forgotten. The show acts like bringing it up once and then never acknowledging it ever again just magically revolves Varian’s character arc. It doesn’t.

So How Come Quirin Isn’t Affected By the Rocks?

He’s right there next to them and he shows no reaction to them at all. You’re telling me the man who lost his home twice to these things, almost died to them, and nearly lost his only child because of them, is just not going to respond to new creepy red ones popping up?

Quirin would have a treasure trove of trauma to explore in his own right, that undoubtedly would connect back to Varian’s own issues, but we’re just going to ignore it and have Quirin off screen for the majority of the episode?

Are These New Character Models?

Are you shitting me!?

They built five new models just for a short two minute scene, one where none of the new characters are named nor given lines, only to never appear ever again!

What the fuck? Why did you waste time and money on this? What happened to all of the other background characters you already built? Did a bunch of season one models just get lost or deleted or something?

Also why are they all wearing green? Is it St. Paddy’s Day?

This Plot Point Wasn’t Established Enough Beforehand

Look, I’ll buy that there are people in Corona who still blame Varian for what happened in season one and for the Sapoiran take over. I mean they’re only getting half the story and were directly effected by his actions whether or not he intended harm to them. But we needed to see more of it beyond just this one scene.

No one was bullying him in Lost Treasure or The King and Queen of Hearts, so for all purposes he appeared to be integrated back into society, and now you’re telling me he’s not and that Rapunzel risked his well being by forcing him to interact with people who were hostile to him back in Lost Treasure?

And yeah you can’t really move Lost Treasure back any further than it already is cause that’d leave a giant hole in the wall of the throne room for over a year. Which also makes no sense either.

Or hey, maybe it’s just Feldspar being an asshole. In which case why should Varian or the audience care?

Eugene is Wasted

Look I understand that there’s only twenty five minutes to tell this story and that Eugene isn’t the focus of the episode. I also understand that the B-plot is meant to be comedic in order to relive tension from the A plot, but this wasn’t the best way to go about it.

The B plot swings too far wide in the other direction that it dilutes the tension too much. The A plot now has to work over time to keep the urgency going. I could understand it, if the show wanted start off with small fears first, but it needed to ramp up the drama as it got closer to the climax, not under cut it.

We never see Eugene freak out over anything other this this cowlick. In fact we never see him scared of anything else beyond this one scene, which undermines Rapunzel’s arc this episode as she’s suppose to be the only one bottling things in. What makes Eugene so special that he can keep a lid on it with out consequences, or are you telling me that a dumb cowlick is his only fear?

Either answer is stupid.

I Hope You Have Copies of the Map

You went through all that trouble to steal the journal for this very reason and now here you are prancing around without it like it’s not that big of deal. Way to undermined past story arcs.

It’s like the writers know that season one was their most successful season, and therefore try to make callbacks to it whenever they can, to make up for ignoring it in season two completely, but they still don’t want to actually acknowledge anything that happened during that season so they just refer to it in the laziest way possible, rendering the previous events pointless.

So Close and Yet So Far

I’m mainly posting this whole conversation so that you dear readers will have context for what I talk about next.

For you see, this scene starts out okay and it looks like we’re finally going to address the elephant in the room regarding Rapunzel’s involvement in Varian’s past trauma, only for the scene to immediately side step the issue all together and not resolve the conflict at all.

No! Don’t Interrupt; Listen!

Or at least go all the way and accept some of the blame yourself.

It may look like Rapunzel is comforting Varian here on a superficial level, but without her verballing acknowledging what she did wrong, this action just winds up taking the focus off of Varian and what he needs and places it upon Rapunzel, both narratively and physically.

So what happens is that, in universe, it comes across like she’s just consoling Varian for her own personal comfort rather than genuinely trying to help.

Why Would Varian Ever Think This?

Okay, first off this has nothing to do with what Varian was talking about previously. Why would he jump from discussing his trauma to praising Rapunzel? You know the woman who is responsible for said trauma?

Secondly, this switches the focus of the conflict off of Varian’s specific trauma and makes it about a generic “over coming fear” lesson mixed with an out of place validation issue. Which is not what’s actually needed for his character development; nor for Rapunzel’s for that matter.

Third, being the sundrop has nothing to do with Rapunzel as a person. Her being born with magical powers was an accident of fate, same as her being royalty. She’s not innately better than anybody else because of this and nobody has any narrative reason to assume otherwise. Especially since her powers are utterly disconnected from her actual personality, choices, and actions. All three of which have become unbearably unpleasant by the last season.

Finally, Varian, of all people should be the last person on earth to ever think so highly of Rapunzel. Them being friends again is already pushing believability. Him suddenly kissing her ass the same as everyone else this season is just flat out bad writing.

Varian knows better than anybody what an awful person Rapunzel is. He’s seen her at her worse. He’s seen her not live up to her hypocritical ideals. He knows the larger problems that steam from placing people in power on pedestals. As her former victim, Varian by all accounts should be the one person who can bring Rapunzel down to earth and poke holes into her ego, even while still being her friend. Especially while still being her friend. She needs that! Writing Varian as another blind Rapunzel stan is not only writing him out of character, but it also damages Rapunzel’s own development.

Also Varian hates magic. Why would he now worship someone just for having magic?

THIS AIN’T ABOUT YOU BITCH!!!

I literally yelled that at my tv screen when I first saw this scene. Those were my exact words upon the episode’s first airing. And believe it or not, I’m not one to usually scream obscenities at inanimate objects.

I understand what the writers were trying to accomplish here. They wanted Rapunzel to ease the tension by saying something funny and to make Varian laugh to distract him from his woes; thereby defusing the situation. But it doesn’t work because of season three’s tendency to make Rapunzel the most egotistical, smug, self-centered, abusive, self-righteous twat in the show.

It really boggles the mind just how unaware the writing is. Like, surely no one makes their protagonist this unlikable on accident. Clearly they meant for Rapunzel to be an ass on purpose right? They wanted Cass to have a reason to hate her so they decided to make her insufferable to the viewer in a misguided attempt to make Cass more sympathetic? Right?

Then where is the bloody comeuppance?

I genuinely thought this was all going to lead somewhere. That Rapunzel was going to learn to be a better person and I would have been fine by that. I would have applauded the show if they had turned her into an asshole intentionally so that they could teach a mature and nuanced lesson about morality.

But they didn’t, and here I am; still shaking my head in confusion over a year later.

Seriously what the fuck happened behind the scenes to cause this? How can processionals paid by the largest animation company in the world be so incompetent?

Having Trauma is Not the Same Thing as Having a Phobia

This is where Varian’s arc falls apart. Not only does the episode fail to have Rapunzel acknowledge her past wrongs for a second time, but it also completely mishandles Varian’s trauma because it equates it to being an irrational fear. One that can be overcome through pure force of will at that, same as Lance and everyone else’s fears in the episode.

Ok first off Varian’s fear isn’t irrational. He even just said so at the start of the conversation. Varian’s trauma is very real, it’s not a hypothetical unlike clown-spiders and cowlicks. Also has been given very little reassurance that it won't happen again. Varian has no reason to trust Rapunzel or anybody else in the show. They never owned up to abandoning him previously, and both he and the audience have little reason to believe that Rapunzel wouldn’t just neglect him again if it was convenient for her.

Secondly one does not simply ‘overcome’ trauma. Oh you can deal with trauma, you can manage it and learn to live with it. But it never goes away. It doesn’t magically disappear just because you ‘faced it’.

In fact confronting it head on is actually the opposite of what your suppose to do when going through something traumatic. Studies have shown that distracting your mind after a car crash or what have you actually helps with PTSD later on. And ‘dealing with it” doesn’t mean ignoring the problem out right, but rather learning how to function despite the pain.

But as the show acts like Varian’s trauma never even existed after this episode.

This Doesn’t Resolve Anything!

What does “being special” have to with fear? How does this help Varian with his trauma? Empty validation has nothing to with what we were just discussing.

Everyone gets afraid. Everyone has trauma of some sort. Are you telling me that my need for therapy some 20 years after being physically assaulted is just because I’m not special enough? Fuck you show!

Moreover, this doesn’t resolve the story arc from season one. Varian and Rapunzel’s conflict with each other has nothing to do with self esteem. It was about personal responsibility, conflicting needs, and abuse. Yes, self image and acceptance was a small factor in their motivations, but it was never the driving goal behind their decisions.

This is yet another broken narrative promise to the audience. There’s no closure to be had from this and leaves the viewer wanting, if not outright frustrated.

In order to justify this exchange fans have to ‘read between the lines’ and make shit up in order for any of this to make any sense. People who still defend season three do by doing all the heavy lifting that writers themselves should be doing.

If it’s not on screen, it doesn’t count.

If Rapunzel never apologizes on screen, then she never apologized. If Rapunzel never checked up on Varian on screen, then she neglected him outright. If Rapunzel never acknowledges her wrong doings on screen, then she’s never learned anything. The characters pretending like she has doesn’t make it so.

Why Does Cassandra Even Want a Destiny?

Yes, Zhan Tiri is lying, there is no destiny, but Zhan Tiri being a liar doesn’t absolve Cassandra of her own actions.

Cassandra herself believes in destiny and is looking for her’s, but why?

Why does she want a destiny? What is this destiny she’s after? Why does she believe such a thing exists? What does she believe it’ll gain her? Why is she willing to risk so much for such a vague goal? What does any of this have to do with the moonstone or her mother? How does this destiny connect back with her personal feud with Rapunzel?

It’s all disjointed and confused. Nothing lines up. It’s like the writers just had this dart board full of ideas for Cassandra’s villain arc, but couldn’t decide on which one to go with, so they just threw darts randomly each episode and went with whatever stuck for any given scene.

“Oh she want’s revenge for her mother during this scene, or wait no, she’s actually looking for destiny this episode?” “What destiny?” “Who knows. Now for this scene we need her to be sad because reasons...” “What reason?” “I don't care, make something up... Uuuuh, she’s sad cause she’s not a royal guard still” “But she became a guard during season one.” “Ignore that. Kids won’t remember. Now she needs to be angry and threating here” “Why?” “Because it’ll look cool.” “But why is she angry?” “Cause it looks cool Bob! Geez! Oh but she still needs to be sympathetic so give her a frowny face afterwards. Just have Zhan Tiri remind her how much she hates Rapunzel later, so as to egg her on and keep her doing stupid shit?” “But why does she hate Rapunzel?” “Do I have to think of everything BOB!!!???”

There, there’s my non-so-accurate behind the scene’s glimpse into the Tangled writer’s room when discussing Cassandra’s arc. I could be wrong. There could have been some intricate and complex plan thought out that just didn’t make it onto the screen for whatever reason, or maybe everyone involved was so far up their own ass that they just forgot to give their main villain an actual reason for being the villain. But regardless the over all effect is that Cassandra is handed the idiot ball for a whole freaken season in order to even have a conflict and that is never good writing; or rather she’s hit in the head with it repeatedly.

This Actually Goes Against Zhan Tiri’s Plan

Zhan Tiri’s short term goal is to be released from her dimensional prison and apparently she needs Cass and Raps to fight into order to do this. This was never established before hand and goes against her disciples pervious plans, but whatever. One could argue that this is just a lie in order to get them to fight later...

However, this lie jeopardizes her long term goal. She eventually wants to wield both the moonstone and the sundrop herself in order to destroy Corona, but Rapunzel is the sundrop and you can only take her power during an ellipse, supposedly, which means if Cass actually succeeds in killing Rapunzel before then, then Zhan Tiri is up a creek without a paddle. Also if Cassandra did manage to steal Raps’ power with or without an ellipse then Zhan Tiri would still be out of luck.

This was wholly unnecessary; you didn’t have to go from zero to sixty in one fell swoop. Have Zhan Tiri claim that fighting Rapunzel will award the power to the winner or something. There’s no need to bring up the ‘kill her’ option. That should logically just drive Cassandra away and puts Zhan Tiri’s plan at risk.

The series wants to act like Zhan Tiri is this master manipulator, a chess master like Zantos or Palpatine, but she couldn’t even tie their shoes. Her plans make no sense and often contradict one another. They only work because the rest of the cast are reduced to imbeciles in order for them to work.

This Plot Point Contradicts Season Two

His fear of spiders was establish early on, and I’ll accept the clown thing as there’s nothing to contradict it, but Lance has preformed numerous times before now and has never show stage fright. He’s a huge ham and back in Return of Quaid he mentioned how much loved acting and preforming and apparently been on stage before, so where does this fear of singing in public come from? Heck he sung in public just a few episodes ago in Rapunzel’s Return.

If you have to sacrifice established character into order to make your plot work then you need a new plot.

This Song is Nice; It Just Needed to Be in a Different Episode

I’m glad Lance got a solo. He deserved one and the song is good. However it breaks the tension of the climax and gives the episode tonal whiplash.

More than a song, Lance needed an actual focus episode in season three. One that was fully his. If anyone else shared it with him it needed to be Red and Angry, not Varian and Cass.

Just imagine if this song came during an episode where he had to watch the girls. Imagine if he was singing it just for them. How much more impactful would that have been?

Now imagine that we had a Rapunzel and Varian duet in it’s place here. That would have tied the episode together better and helped to further their own stories. Glenn Slater can write lyrics far better than Chris can write dialogue. I bet you a thousand to one Tangled the Series would have solved like half of it’s problems had Menken and Slater been allowed write and actual apology duet between Raps and Varian.

Such a duet was proposed during Rapunzel’s Return but it could have worked here too, and you could have placed Lance’s solo in Day of the Animals or something, just leave Rapunzel out of that episode all together.

Nothing honestly needed to be cut music wise, yet for some reason season three has less songs than the other seasons, even when counting the reprises, and they’re mostly shorter too.

That’s mismanagement right there. Plain and simple. Someone at the top didn’t know how to balance the budget or resources and didn’t know where to the throw the money at.

You Have a 70 Foot Shield Made of Magic Hair, Rapunzel

You couldn’t think to just block those rocks instead?

Giving your protagonist a big hero moment doesn’t work if they placed the person the have to save in jeopardy to begin with show.

I Do Not Care About Rapunzel Right Now, Show

Yes, she’s the main character. Yes, her feud with Cass is the main conflict of the season and kicked off the episode. That does not mean that I automatically care about her personal feelings at this moment in time.

Rapunzel has kept such a tight lid on her real feelings for the whole episode that this just comes out of nowhere. I was never waiting with baited breath for her to confess her deep dark secrets or whatever.

It’s not even an interesting reveal. It’s just “Oh, see Rapunzel’s human too. She’s gets scared just like everybody else.”. I already fucking knew that, thanks. And what she’s afraid of isn’t even that compelling either; it’s a just a rip off of the prophecy dreams she had back in season one. The same ones that had no explanation and never furthered the story, so why should I care about this one?

You have to earn the audience’s investment in your conflict. The character’s likability, as little as that may be currently, will only carry you so far, you have to establish shit first.

Varian’s conflict has been the focus of the entire episode so far, and it’s a conflict that was set all the way back in season one, so of course that is what I’m invested in seeing get resolved. Rapunzel is once again just butting in and making it all about her when it’s not actually her story.

And if you wanted it to be her story then you should have made her the actual focus to begin with and had her learn something by the end of it.

This is Poor Choice of Words, Writers

I could be generous here and pass this off as Rapunzel not fully believing in this prophecy. After all Corona’s destruction is still a hypothetical at this point and Cassandra really has left already. Since the episode is about fear, Rapunzel is of course more afraid of losing Cassandra’s friendship as it’s real tangible possibility.

More than a possibility even, Rapunzel’s been dumped. Season three is a classic break up story, right down to the poor plotting and tunnel vision, hence why it’s so gay baity.

However, this reading only carries so far. For starters this is Rapunzel’s what, fourth prophecy dream so far? Haven’t the past three already came true, so why would she think this one wouldn’t?

Secondly, all that good grace goes right out the window once it becomes clear that, yes, Cassandra is indeed a threat; a threat that Rapunzel refuses to take seriously because she cares more about her own personal validation than her kingdom.

Even as Cassandra does succeed in destroying Corona, and no doubt harms other people while at it, Rapunzel still is obsessed with ‘winning Cassandra back’. Oh and make no mistake, this is not because she actually cares about Cassandra as a person and her needs or feelings. Nope. Rapunzel just doesn’t like being dumped.

Why Does Varian Need to Shove His Feelings Aside for Rapunzel’s Bullshit?

Rapunzel’s ‘confession’ has fuck all to do with Varian’s current issues. They do not connect in any way.

Varian is dealing with real trauma, trauma that she helped cause, while Rapunzel is only dealing with a hypothetical prophecy and one very shallow, self-centered fear. There’s nothing to relate to here. Neither for Varian himself nor the audience.

Yet for some undefined reason this is what gets Varian to ignore his PTSD flashbacks? What?

This is once again break the narrative promise. I was promised closure for Varian’s story arc and instead of that the writers just brush it up under the rug.

From the outside looking in this doesn’t come across as Varian ‘overcoming’ his ‘fear’. It looks like an abuse victim using learned helplessness to placate his abusers.

And yes, for the last time Rapunzel is Varian’s abuser.

NEGLECT IS ABUSE!!!

And and even though he is no longer her ‘responsibility’, she is still neglecting him emotionally as his supposed friend.

Varian’s and Cassandra’s Stories Undermined Each Other’s

Varian stopped the rocks. Rapunzel had nothing to do with it. Zhan Tiri blaming Rapunzel for it steals agency away from both her and Cassandra.

However, if Rapunzel had used the hurt incantation to stop the rocks and Cassandra had felt it rom the other side, then you’d have something to back up Zhan Tiri’s claim and an actual point of real conflict to carry the rest of the season. Not to mention an actual tangible goal for Cassandra to work towards, survival.

Cassandra’s conflict with Rapunzel not only prevents the resolution to Varian’s arc from being satisfying, but Varian fulfilling his arc in turn winds up cutting off Cass’s story at the knees.

It didn’t have to be this way. Varian’s and Cassandra’s arcs should have complimented each other, but instead the creator decided to make them complete for screen time and relevance.

It is such an gratingly stupid and petty decision that winds up being a disservice for all the characters involved.

Cassandra’s motivation and goal should have been revealed back in season two. Varian should have been the sole focus of Rapunzel’s Return and gotten his big hero moment there along; with an actual ending to his conflict with Rapunzel that didn’t feel so lopsided and half assed. Then Rapunzel and Cassandra could have both been held accountable for their conflict in season three, instead of pretending like their shit smelled of roses the whole damn time.

Lance Got a Whole Crowd Cheering Him On For Singing a Song, Varian Just Gets One Asshole Giving Him a Single Line of Congratulations

Did I mention this show has an odd anti-Varian bias? Cause it does. For whatever reasons his own creators hate him and that’s just utterly baffling to me. Like why create a main character that you don’t like?

I look down on professional writers who treat characters they didn’t create poorly within their works, like with James Gunn and Scrappy Doo in the Scooby Doo Movie, Adric in the Doctor Who spin offs, or even the treatment of Doofus in Ducktales 2017. I don't care how much a character is liked or disliked by fandom, that shit is just tasteless and often unfunny. But at least I understand where they are coming from when they do it.

But I’ll never understand what compels a writer to sabotage their own work; one that they are getting paid to write no less. Especially when said character is super popular with their fans. And Chris knows this. He knows the ratings plummeted without Varian in season two. He knows the merch didn’t sell because there wasn’t enough Varian products. That’s why he hyped up Varian’s return a whole week before Season Three’s airing with a massive online campaign, but he wasn’t smart enough to treat the character decently afterwards?

I mean congrats, you convinced a just enough viewers to come back to season three to keep the show on the air I guess, but you left them all pissed off and have nothing to show for it to the higher ups a Disney.

And Chris wonders why he wasn’t asked back to work on new Disney princesses shows that are currently in the works.

That is Not Quirin. That is a Plank of Wood Pretending to be Quirin.

*Beep* *Boop*...*Dad Bot Is Proud. exe*

Quirin is such a pale shadow of his season one self that he might as well not exist. I genuinely don't know why the writers released from the amber so early if they weren’t actually going to use him until the season finale.

For the longest time I honestly thought that Rapunzel sucked out his soul with that decay incantation; what with that lyric about “setting the spirit free”. I genuinely thought that would be a later plot point, but nope, it’s just bad writing

Him just saying hi to son once and smiling blankly isn’t compelling and it’s isn’t fulfilling. It doesn’t actually resolve his arc. I mean he’s at least shown spending time with his son, but that’s not enough. We need to see him acknowledge past, we need to see him acknowledge his own flaws, and we need to see him being more attentive when Varian is in need. .

Season one Quirin would be trying to stop Varian from going near the red rocks, a post season one Quirin should logically go after his son to make sure he’s alright, even if he’s know longer trying to actively stop Varian like he once did.

There’s also that damn note and it’s secrets!

You know what? That’s it. That’s the problem. The focus is all wrong in season three. Episodes get pulled into to many directions trying to juggle too many characters rather than dedicating the needed time to each individual arc.

Season two’s finale should have been a three parter with Cass’s full motivation and goal laid bare before leaving.

Rapunzel’s Return should have been solely about Rapunzel and Varian’s conflict and resolving that arc fully

Either Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf or Day of the Animals should have been a Lance episode about him and the girl’s, no Rapunzel.

And this episode should have been about Quirin and Varian resolving their issues, with the Rapunzel and Cass stuff as the B plot not the stupid talent show

There, all fixed. You don't even have to cut much, just rework the focus and leave Rapunzel and Cassandra out of conflicts they have no business being in.

This Does Not Excuse Rapunzel’s Later Negligence Regarding Cassandra

Just because the red rocks was an accident doesn’t mean Cassandra should get a free pass for all the awful things she does later. Rapunzel uses this one interaction to excuse everything else Cassandra does in season three, as if she was just some poor lost baby and not a grown ass woman out to kill them.

In fact Cass showing hesitancy here actually makes her later actions even worse. This means that she fully acknowledges that what she’s about to do is wrong, but goes ahead and does anyway, even gleefully so at times. Then she has to gall to act baffled when people see her as a threat? 0.o

When fans say Cass isn’t redeemable or shouldn’t be redeemed, it’s not because he actions are so much worse than everybody else’s (even though they are), It’s because she doesn’t act like she wants to be redeemed half the time. The show doesn’t properly set up her ‘redemption’, instead it just lazily has Rapunzel yell at us how she’s ‘not lost’.

Like below for instance.

What Does Cass Need Saving From?

Cassandra is not in danger. She is the danger.

She made the conscious decision to leave taking a world endangering artifact with her, and she later makes the conscious decision to come back and be an asshole for no adequately defined reason.

She’s never shown to be in any physical danger from the rocks, the moonstone, or even Zhan Tiri herself. She apparently can take care of herself in the wild for over a year. She also has the capability of getting a job else where and just living out her life if she wanted to. Nothing is forcing her to listen to Zhan Tiri.

Heck, even her hurt arm, the one thing Rapunzel is responsible for and could potentially be a continued threat to Cass’s well being, is just completely forgotten about.

And no, mental illness and past trauma are not excuses as well. In fact it’s rather insulting to both people with mental heath problems and abusive survivors to suggest otherwise. We don't need ‘saving from ourselves’ and we aren’t automatically dangers to anybody. Nor do we get free passes if we hurt someone. A jerk who happens to have a mental illness is just a jerk who so happens to have a mental illness; coloration is not causation.

Conclusion

It’s better than Rapunzel’s Return, but this episode was still a disappointment. A small part of me whishes this was a two parter because it has so much untapped potential, but I know it’s just be wasted in Chris’s hands.

Anyways, I consider this to be the true mid-season finale of S3. Not only did the hiatus kick in after this episode, but it also clearly divides the season between the first half filler and the later Cass conflict. As such the next entry will be the mid-season recap. See ya, then.

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#anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #anti-casandra #varian #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure

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starilicious · 3 years

Text

der lagi lekin (hunter x force-user!gn! reader + ep. 8 fix-it)

》 summary: tbb episode 8 fix-it featuring a force-user reader who used to be a jedi. reader is a part of tbb and in a relationship with hunter, but the squad–nor hunter–knows that reader is a force-user. (disclaimer: all of this was written before episode 9 was released! see a/n for an explanation ^_^) (another disclaimer: if you want just the hunter x reader comfort, please let me know and i'll finish it up and post it!)

》 word count: ~8k (yeah, it's a lot LOL)

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: in-universe swearing, mental breakdown, some slight sensory overloads, pretty mild panic attack, light canon-typical violence, angst + some comfort, survivor's guilt from surviving order 66, no use of y/n, slightly plot heavy because i got way too carried away in writing (whoops?) [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: major ones for tbb episode 8 "reunion"

》 a/n: okay look, i gotta confess: this wasn’t supposed to be an episode 8 fix-it. really. i’m actually glad cad bane won because we get to see that the clones don’t always win every fight... i think it makes for a better and more complex story. anyway, i started out writing just reader and hunter comfort after episode 8 ended. but i’m weak for omega because she reminds me so much of my younger siblings and i ended up writing a wholeass fix-it to save her (even tho cad bane is a downright badass). i kind of liked what i did with building up the plot so much that i might continue this story of force-user!reader with tbb. but that’s a tangent we can deal with later. if you would like a part two with the hunter x reader comfort this was originally intended to be, let me know!

as i said in the summary, i wrote all of this before episode 9 came out–just be aware of that. because it’s so long, it took me a while to edit, which is why i’m posting after ep. 9 was released. but without further ado, i hope you like it! <33

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "der lagi lekin" from the film zindagi na milegi dobara. i linked the song in blue and linked the english translations in green in case you're curious! it's not necessary to listen or understand the song, but i thought it went well with the fic :)

“Everybody get down!” Wrecker yells. You and the squad immediately do as he instructs, diving towards the ground and covering your head. Stars, I hope this works.

The charges the six of you placed around the gigantic cone that surrounds the core cylinder explodes in a deafening blast. You curl into the tightest ball you can manage, breathing so hard that the HUD inside your helmet temporarily fogs up. Metal shards of the explosion rain down on you hard.

For a moment, it seems like nothing happened. But then you hear the telltale, ear-grinding creak of the durasteel and the squad is roughly catapulted forward from the force of the cone beginning to fall down.

You struggle to stand up as you lurch this way and that, trying to regain your balance and stabilize as Tech calls out, “Hold on!”

You quickly glance at the rest of the Bad Batch, trying to see if any of them were hurt. Other than the absolutely terrified look on Omega’s face, all is well considering the circumstances. The metal groans and begins its descent, taking your feeling of being grounded with it. The weightlessness is uncomfortably familiar to say the least, but you ignore it as the six of you scramble to hold on to the side of the cone. You certainly did your fair share of acrobatics back in the war, but feeling it hum around you...it’s too much. It’s too much. You elect to push it back into the depths of your brain. But it doesn’t leave.

It never really does.

Omega’s anxious whimpers come in faintly through your thick helmet and you whip around, frantically trying to find where she is. But before you can find her, the cone lands vertically on its head and the force is so violent that your stable hold on the durasteel is broken. Panicked, you quickly fire a grappling hook towards the ledge where you were previously hanging on. The hook catches and you stop abruptly, the jerky movement almost wrenching your arm out of its socket.

You look down to see Omega falling from someone’s grip and into Hunter’s arms. You can barely tell where anyone is thanks to the lack of light and the incessant motion.

The cone begins to topple onto its side and suddenly, your wire snaps from the tension. You let out a scream of surprise as you plummet downwards, wind rushing past your helmet. ForceIdon’twanttodieohmyMakerohno–

But you never hit the ground, instead being flung sideways as the cone tears into two. On trained instinct, you tuck yourself into a ball to try and roll in order to break your fall instead of using it. That time is long gone.

You land with a sickening thud and hiss in pain as your back hits the metal hard. You hear something crack, but whether it is your armor or something internal, you have absolutely no idea, and don’t have time to check before you black out.

✧✦✧

You jolt awake, a sound making its way into your consciousness. Finally, the damn place stopped moving. You take a few minutes to try and relieve the painful pressure in your chest, reaching up to rip your helmet off because you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe.

You tilt your head back as you struggle to take in air and let the adrenaline subside. You hear voices in the distance and you strain your ears to pick up on the sound as you quickly check yourself over. As far as you can tell, nothing major is broken, and at this point, that is all that matters. Though, your head is pounding, and for more reasons than one

“–nter.. port side... what… status?”

You can’t tell who is speaking, the message too far away for you to hear. But the bits and pieces are enough for you to know that it’s someone from the Bad Batch and that you weren’t unconscious for long. You stand up and dust yourself off before slowly walking to where you believe the origin of the sound is.

“–engine… got company.” A blaster sound and then an explosion rings through the quiet.

Your eyes widen and you quickly pick up the pace, getting your blaster ready as you pick your way through the sharp metal that is jutting out from the ground.

You click on your wrist comm. “Echo, you there?” A faint crackle before his voice comes through, but the signal is scratchy. You frown in frustration.

“–are you? Hunter is... port side,” Echo says and you smack your commlink to try and get the electronics to work, but it’s no use. The device is broken, most likely from the fall, you deduce.

“Meet… Marauder.”

You don’t bother to answer, knowing Echo would probably not even be able to hear what you had to say anyway. Without a signal booster or repeater, there’s no way you can get your transmission across the channel frequency.

It takes a few minutes, but you eventually find the night sky of Bracca blinking down at you at the end of the ripped off cone. You run out to find that you’re in the middle of where the cone broke in half. Okay, new plan. I need to find Hunter. Hunter will know what to do.

You scan your surroundings. The HUD isn’t picking up on any lifeforms near you, and you realize with sinking dread that you have no more options. Whichever piece you climbed through to get to your squadmates, it would take too long for you to search for them since you don’t know their coordinates and your comm isn’t working. Frankly, the Empire–Crosshair–would find you first. You have to use it.

You have to use the Force.

A wave of nausea overcomes you at the mere thought of it and you sway. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tear off your helmet to breathe some fresh air and end up keeling over as the bile rises in your throat. Nothing comes out. You can’t tell if that’s a positive or not.

You could have saved them. Someone. Anyone.

It itches at you in the back of your head, wishing to be let out of its cage. But you can’t. You can’t do it. What’s the use anyway? All you would be doing is saving yourself. The choice of surviving it all has haunted you ever since. Your head pounds in agony.

You saw it happen. You could have helped them. And you ran like a coward. Only ever concerned about yourself.

You inhale sharply as the scene flashes before your eyes, clones shooting at you and the other Jedi. The blaster fire. The confusion. The screams.

How pathetic.

The last statement, an echo of Crosshair’s words, bounces around in your brain. You clutch your head as you let out a heartbroken sob, knee deep in the dirt and metal and grief. Tears create clean tracks down your face as you finally break down, the flood of emotions bursting the dam open. At this point, you don’t know if the emotions are yours or the ones you previously felt through the Force, all of them swirling and blending into one. The bottled up anguish merged together when you attempted to cut yourself off from the Force after the clones–your friends–attacked.

The pain of their death is perhaps the worst of all. Horror courses through you as you finally process your friends and mentors dying around the galaxy, their deaths, their distress, their fear reverberating heavily throughout the Force. Each one cripples you further as you once again struggle to breathe.

It feels like light years pass when you finally calm down to a practically numb state of being. The scenes stop replaying behind your closed eyelids and the echoing shrieks die down to a faint, hollow whisper. You’re suddenly exhausted, limbs heavy and energy sapped. It was almost relieving to finally let the Force once again flow through your body, your nerves lightly tingling with potential despite how tired you feel. You collapse onto the ground and try to recenter yourself.

But despite finally acknowledging the loss, it doesn’t feel right. You didn’t get to say goodbye. You hadn’t been able to even think about them, much less honor them, too focused on going on the run to concentrate on anything beyond the next day’s survival. Even once you joined the Bad Batch, you were paranoid about their chips, about your friends turning on you at any moment. You were always extremely reluctant to engage in the Force, even at the worst of times.

With a start, you realize that you don’t need to worry about your squadmates. Their inhibitor chips are now gone. You… you are safe.

You let out a shocked laugh as it sinks in. A glimmer of hope, of peace. I’m safe.

You sit up then, criss-crossing your legs as you survey the broken landscape of Bracca. Despite the planet being a graveyard, you feel lucidly alive. Perhaps something died in you, that wretched day. But something else, slowly but surely, began growing in its place. It’s meek, but it’s there.

You let out a breath and close your eyes, reaching for the Force like it’s an old friend. It accepts your invitation with hesitation, joining hands with you as if you did not try beating it to death for days on end. You sink into the gentle lapping waves of the Force, extending into it and widening your scope.

There’s something that lurks beneath the surface, in the deep. Dark and sinister and so utterly painful. It calls to you, quiet and low. Enticing. Tempting. And something in you knows that it’s the reason for your previous life’s demise.

But you can feel Hunter’s–and Omega’s, you realize–presence near you in the Force. Even with your relatively damaged connection to the Force after Order 66, the Bad Batch’s Force auras were something you could always hone in on. You let yourself direct your focus to the duo, letting their emotions be your beacon to the acceptance of the Light side of the Force.

In a split second, you decide to not dive deeper into the Force. This isn’t the place nor the time to discover what is prowling in the endless yawning of the Force, to discover why everything happened. So you direct your concentration to the beings on the planet, feeling and breathing your way through the Life Force.

You freeze. There’s something here. No… someone. Your eyebrows furrow as you divert your attention away from your friends and other organisms to the peculiar source. Something about this person strikes you as familiar.

Your eyes snap open and you gasp. I’m not alone. A Force-sensitive. Someone survived. Giddy beyond belief, you snatch up your helmet and begin trekking your way across the wreckage in the opposite direction of Hunter and Omega before pausing. Whoever this person is doesn’t know about your presence on the planet.

And despite the fear you felt emanating off of them in the Force, you somehow knew they were safe, at least for now. And they would remain so if you have anything to say about it. Maker forbid anything that jeopardizes this person’s fragile safety. After all, you know best what it’s like to constantly flee scene after scene.

Staying away is the best thing to do. I’ll come back for you, whoever you are.

You double back and make quick work of getting across the debris as you focus your concentration on Hunter’s and Omega’s Force signatures. As you get closer to the port side, you hear Omega’s high voice. Through your HUD, you can see her small form. You grin. She disappears then, and on closer inspection, you figure she jumped through some broken cargo doors.

The entrance she and Hunter took is too high for you to jump up to, even with the aid of the Force. Combined with your wariness of probe droids, you decide to take a different route from the right side, climbing up the broken ship. The slick oil mixed with the water still present on the metal makes for a difficult trek, and you slip more times than you would like to admit.

Hunter’s gruff voice floats up towards you and you scramble the last few meters to the edge of a hole in the ceiling before pausing. The Force is itching at the back of your head. Something’s wrong.

You peek over the edge of the giant slab of durasteel that created the hole to see bodies in white armor littered everywhere–clones, you realize. Your heart pangs in sadness at the sight.

Slightly to your right, a blue figure and a techno-service droid stand in front of a ship and a frightened Omega stands behind a defensive Hunter. Your mouth drops open. Kriff.

Cad Bane.

A memory from near the beginning of the war hits you in full force. You and Anakin had taken some time on Coruscant to catch up with each other after you passed your trials and were promoted to Jedi Knight. He told you about a mission where he had to stop a bounty hunter who successfully stole a Jedi holocron. You remember how surprised you were when you heard the bitter disgust in Anakin’s voice. The ruthlessly cunning bounty hunter not only threatened to kill Ahsoka, but he murdered Master Ropal.

Judging by the looks of it, Hunter doesn’t know who he is. If the Anakin Skywalker had a difficult time with Cad Bane, there is no way in sithhell Hunter can take him on, even with his enhanced senses. Frankly, you seriously doubt you can either, especially with how rusty your Force skills are now. And that means this isn’t going to end well.

You watch carefully as you tune into the conversation.

“Ain’t you smart?” Bane smirks. “The kid’s got it all figured it out.”

“You’re in trouble now!” the droid exclaims, pointing at Hunter and Omega. You grit your teeth in annoyance.

“Who hired you?” Hunter asks. Stalling. Not a bad move, Hunter.

“Son,” Bane sighs, already done with the brief conversation. “That’s confidential information. Now hand her over.”

Omega stays behind Hunter, taking a knee as Hunter walks forward protectively. You bristle. How am I supposed to help from up here?

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Your eyes drift over the scene in a panic and you take in the fallen clones again. An idea pops into your head. It is desperate, but at this point, you don’t have much of a choice.

Bane mimics Hunter’s movement, walking forward and putting a hand near his belt. The tension is as thick as duracrete.

“That’s unfortunate… for you.”

You grab the long barrel piece from your belt, fitting it over your blaster hurriedly as the showdown begins. Out of the corner of your eye, you see them staring each other down and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Men.

During the war, Crosshair helped you re-engineer your weapon so you could put together various pieces in the field to make a blaster gun that loosely resembled his own sniper. Seeing the clones reminded you of him. A wave of sadness washes over you, but you shake your head. Now is not the time.

You screw on the telescopic sight and set up your makeshift sniper. You peer through the viewfinder and find Bane’s chest. Your finger tenses over the trigger.

You let yourself sink deep into the Force, let it guide your actions. Inhale. Exhale. I can do this. As you relax, the mellow warmth you missed so dearly washes over you, gently eroding the torment in your mind and heart, guiding your focus to the here and now. Trust in the Force.

Wait.

Now.

You fire two bolts straight into your target the same exact moment Bane and Hunter shoot each other. Hunter’s shot hits the droid, breaking off its leg. Bane’s shot hits directly in Hunter’s chest, as yours did Bane. Both men immediately fall backwards and slam into the ground.

“My booster!” Oh. So not a leg. Got it.

“Hunter!”

Kriff kriff kriff. You jump down nimbly from your hiding spot in the ceiling and immediately sprint towards the duo. Is he dead? You would unapologetically release sithhell on Bane if he killed the man you love.

Omega panics as she tries to wake Hunter up, continuously calling his name before taking a glimpse of her surroundings. Before you can react, she grabs her bow and pulls it taut, aiming at you. She looks petrified.

“Whoa! Omega, it’s me!” you exclaim, holding your hands up in surrender. She takes a moment to actually look at you before sagging in relief. Suddenly, the droid comes speeding out of nowhere and Omega shoots, the energy bolt whizzing past your waist and straight into the droid before it can attack you from behind.

The shot rings true and the grumpy robot falls. You turn around to grab at its exposed parts under its head and yank them out to make sure it can’t power on again.

“Thanks, Omega. I owe you one,” you say and Omega gives you a proud smile.

You place a comforting hand on her shoulder before kneeling down to shake Hunter awake, but it doesn’t work. You take a moment to analyse Hunter’s Life Force. It’s a bit dimmer, but it’s constant, meaning he’s out cold and doesn’t have the life draining out of him. You let out a sigh of relief. He’s alive. You glance back to see Bane still not moving. Good.

“What’re we gonna do?” Omega whispers as you both peer down at Hunter. His armor is smoking from Bane’s blaster shot and you exhale through your teeth, trying to come up with a plan. You slip off a glove to check Hunter’s pulse–it’s strong. You don’t want to leave Omega alone, even if Bane is unconscious, but you aren’t sure you have a choice.

“Well we can’t carry him to safety, neither of us are strong enough for that,” you think aloud, gears churning in your head. You would have to wait for help, even if you were sitting ducks.

Briefly, you entertain the thought of taking Bane’s ship. The only problem is you don’t know what trackers or other gadgets are in there–it’s too costly of a risk and a price you weren’t willing to pay. You sigh, resigned.

“Omega, you try to comm the others and see if you can wake Hunter up. I’m going to go inside this guy’s ship and see if I can find something that can help us. We have to get out of here before the bounty hunter wakes up,” you instruct and Omega nods, youthful determination flooding back into her eyes.

You leave her to it, walking cautiously towards Bane’s ship. You look down at him. His armor is smoking in two places from the shots you fired. Based on what you see, he’s still unconscious, and his Life Force reflects the same conclusion. How long that would remain, you don’t know. Which means you need to work fast.

You board the ship while you remove the sniper attachments from your blaster and clip them back onto your belt. You keep your guard up as you look around. No droids. Guess that techno-service droid is his one and only.

In an effort to slowly re-familiarize yourself with the Force, you send out a quick pulse through it to see if there are any lifeforms aboard the ship, relaxing when you find none. You rummage through all the cabinets that you discover, looking high and low as you try to locate something of use. The secret compartment in the cockpit proves to be the fruitful reward to your search. With a wave of your hand, you unlock it with ease. Bingo.

Credits. Bags of them. And they’re unmarked creds, which make your score even better. Hopefully, it would be enough to pay off your debt to Cid and give the Havoc Marauder some much-needed upgrades.

Usually, you would feel bad about stealing from someone, but considering this was a bounty hunter – Cad Bane, no less – you figure you can risk treading the grey area of your moral code.

You grab as many bags as you’re able, stuffing them inside your backpack and clipping the rest onto your belt. At this moment, you’re incredibly grateful to Tech and Echo for designing a sturdy utility belt that fits you well. The standard ones were for clones and you definitely were not a clone.

You exit the cockpit and head to the second level of the ship to see if there’s anything else you can find. A stack of crates sits in the corner across from what you assume to be a prison. You scrunch your nose in disgust as you open one to find medical supplies. Bacta patches and gel, vitapaste, rations, water, gloves, sanitary napkins–it was all there. Delighted, you close the crate and click the repulsor to make it levitate. Oh how you love technology.

You turn around and walk back up the stairs to leave the ship. You freeze at the exit ramp. You have got to be karking kidding me.

“Sorry lil’ lady.”

Cad Bane stuns Omega in front of your eyes before rounding on you and immediately fires. In a desperate attempt to save yourself, you throw your hands up and the honeyed power of the Force rushes through every fibre of your being. The blaster bolts slow down to a snail-like crawl and your eyes widen. How did I…?

Never mind how you argue with yourself. Time to get out of here!

You tiptoe around each bolt, the effort of keeping them in stasis becoming more difficult with each passing moment. You grit your teeth as your arms shake, but you keep going until you are finally off the ramp. You lower your arms and the energy hits the inside of the ship, spazzing out the blinking controls inside.

Bane turns to you in surprise, astonished at how you’re suddenly in front of him. You don’t give him the luxury of processing the event and immediately punch him in the face with as much strength as you can muster. Bane pitches backwards and collapses onto the ground, just as he did the first time. You grab your stun blaster and shoot him as extra assurance. You really did not want this to repeat again. Hopefully he never wakes up with a memory of what I just did...

“Now stay down,” you mutter to a knocked out Bane, cradling your now injured hand. You have no idea how Wrecker ever does this because wow your hand is killing you.

You have to say, you’re pretty proud of yourself for being able to render him unconscious not once, but two times. You wish you could tell Anakin–the thought saddens you. He’s probably dead too.

With that vividly cheery thought, you stagger back from the ramp in exhaustion, weary from the sudden surge of the Force still ebbing and coursing through your body.

None of the Bad Batch knew you used to be a Jedi–not even Hunter. It was something only a few of your closest Jedi friends and the Jedi Council knew about.

But after what happened today, with Rex helping your squadmates get their inhibitor chips out, with you finally letting the Force in… maybe it is time to tell them. The secrecy wouldn’t be needed anymore now that you were sure you were safe around your friends. But clearly, the universe wanted to throw a nasty vibroblade in your plans by knocking Hunter and Omega unconscious and having the best kriffing bounty hunter in the galaxy be hot on your heels.

You take a few seconds to get your breath back and regain your mental energy. You aren’t out of the woods yet. You run inside Bane’s ship to grab the crate of medical supplies before sprinting back out towards Hunter and Omega.

You lean down and pat Omega’s cheek gently, trying to wake her up, but she’s out cold. Why is everyone around me unconscious? Frankly, you’re equally amused and terrified by the situation laid out in front of you.

You sigh, looking around to see if you can find some cover. There’s a giant sheet of durasteel to your left, big enough to act as a barrier in case trouble comes knocking. You bend down and pick Omega up before placing her down cautiously, leaning her small body against the metal. You repeat the action with the crate you found.

The third time proves to be much more difficult. Hunter certainly isn’t as muscular as Wrecker, but he sure as sithhell isn’t as light as Omega. You tap your foot nervously, trying to figure out a way for you to lift him. Yes, you could use the Force, but you don’t want to alert the other Force-sensitive on the planet. If they knew about your existence, it could put them in danger, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Giving up, you place your hands underneath Hunter’s armpits and effectively drag him all the way over, propping him up as you did Omega. You cringe at the sound of his armor grating the floor. There are sure to be dirty scuff marks on it now. Sorry Hunter.

Just as you’re about to sit down next to him, heaving deep breaths from the exertion, you pause. A warning is practically blaring in the Force and you tense, urgently trying to figure out the cause.

“Not again,” you mumble under your breath. You can’t handle any more action today. With Hunter and Omega both down, and your extreme fatigue from engaging in the Force, you don’t know how much of a fight you can put up. Not to mention you never trained as a soldier. There was a reason why you left the military planning strategies to the Bad Batch.

You hold your blaster close to your chest as you scan the environment. Bane is immobile and so is the dismantled techno-service droid. So what’s wrong?

Ten nerve-wracking seconds pass before you get your answer. Clone voices waft up to your hiding spot and you bite your cheek in frustration as your head continues to pound. Your headache still hasn’t stopped.

There is no way you can fight them all off, especially if Crosshair is with them. They are too far away for you to get a read on how many there are, and frankly, you’re much too scared to even peek around the durasteel to count.

One of Tech’s previous statements floats through your mind. About three attack shuttles worth.

You can feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears as anxiety ties your stomach into knots. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, Ican’tdothis.

You take deep breaths, doing your best to clear your mind and focus. You had to do this. There is no other option other than surrendering or dying. No, damnit, you would go down fighting until the Life Force left you.

You peer just past the edge of the metal to see at least twenty clones heading your way. Certainly not ideal, but you bide your time. If you started shooting now, you couldn’t use the element of surprise to your advantage and they would easily overwhelm you. But once they’re close enough, you hope you can at least take a couple out before having to resort to using the Force. It isn’t ideal, but it’s all you have.

Honestly, you don’t know if you could get out of this one alive, much less protect Hunter and Omega too. Maker help me.

It throws you off when they finally come into sight–you see how plain the clones’ armor looked without paint. You never really noticed it before since you were always running for your life in those circumstances. But now that you think about it, you are so used to seeing bright blue or green or yellow that the alabaster white just seems so… odd.

“Looks like a big fight happened here.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. All these men are dead.”

Now.

You whip your body around the metal and immediately begin shooting as fast as you can pull the trigger, trying to make every shot count. The troopers hesitate for just a moment, most likely due to their surprise of you being there. But that second is all you need.

You take out the three men closest to you before jumping back behind the metal as their barrage of fire rains down on you. You do your best to shoot back and manage to take out one more clone, but they’re beginning to gain too much ground too fast. I can do this. I have to do this.

As far as you can tell, Crosshair isn’t with the clones attacking you, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t set up shop somewhere nearby, waiting to shoot you.

You shudder. It’s a chilling thought.

You grab one of your last detonators from your belt and hurl it as far as you can. The rapid beeping rises quickly in pitch before the charge explodes. Anguished cries reverberate throughout the area, and you briefly feel sorry for having to take such drastic measures as you feel their Force signatures dim swiftly. But you don’t have a choice.

Peeking around the corner, you count around eight to ten clones down. Not bad considering the circumstances.

You continue shooting as much as you can but now the troopers are much too close for comfort and you’re feeling overwhelmed. The durasteel you are using for cover isn’t meant to take this kind of damage, and the integrity of your shield is quickly waning as told by the constant creaks and groans. You don’t know what to do. Will we make it?

In your haste of shooting first and panicking later, you don’t notice Hunter groaning, finally waking up. And before you have time to even glance at him, the familiar hum of the Havoc Marauder and its lights shine down on you. Your sag in relief. Looks like Omega was able to comm them after all. Never before have you been so glad to see the beat-up hunk of junk. (You would never say that to Tech though–the Marauder is his baby, his pride and joy.)

Echo, Wrecker, and Tech all race off the ship, guns ablazing. Wrecker and Tech stand guard, serving as cover fire while Echo bends down to help you out.

“Hunter, wake up!” Echo hisses and smacks his helmet lightly. Hunter mumbles in pain as he starts to move, trying to look around as his HUD boots back up. Seriously? Now you wake up? you think sarcastically. But you’re much more relieved at the fact that he has actually woken up.

“What happened? Where’s Omega?” Wrecker bellows, worried.

“She’s right here, I’ve got her!” you shout back at the same time Echo says, “He was shot in the chest plate.”

You pocket your blaster and gather the young girl in your arms with every last bit of strength you have left. You aren’t strong enough to hold her in one arm and shoot with the other. That is much more up Wrecker’s alley.

“We have to get him on board!” Tech exclaims as he helps Echo support Hunter. You pick Omega up in both arms and bolt for the ship as fast as you can while yelling at Tech to grab the crate of supplies.

“Incoming!” Wrecker calls out as a fresh wave of troopers advance towards the six of you. You grunt as you deposit Omega in a chair near the controls before pulling out your blaster and helping Wrecker shoot down the men racing towards you.

“Got him. Tech, fly us out of here!” Echo commands while Wrecker makes a gesture for them to get on the ship faster. Hunter stumbles as he does his best to upright himself.

“Go go go!” Wrecker exclaims. Tech shoves the crate next to Omega’s seat and makes a beeline for the cockpit as you continue shooting, moving to the side to make space for Echo and Hunter to come on board. Wrecker quickly climbs in right after them and the ramp closes shut.

Tech immediately pilots the Havoc Marauder up and away from the scene. You vaguely hear the sound of blaster fire hitting the bottom of the ship while you drop your blaster on the ground and wrench Hunter’s helmet off in a panic. You take his face in your hands as you scan him quickly, trying to figure out if he’s hurt or not.

Hunter bats your hands away. “He... he took Omega,” he says and you shake your head. Wrecker pipes up from behind you to respond.

“Who? Crosshair?”

“The bounty hunter,” Hunter mutters as he rubs a hand over his face. Before Wrecker can answer again, you step in.

“No, he didn’t. I took him down. And no, he’s not dead,” you tack on quickly when you see Echo open his mouth. Echo shakes his head fondly and you just grin at him.

“She’s right here,” Echo says instead, pointing to Omega’s sleeping figure. Hunter turns in surprise to see that his brother is indeed telling the truth.

“How...?” Hunter’s voice trails off. Echo and Wrecker look at you expectantly, and Hunter follows suit. You sigh and take off your helmet, setting it down on the ledge next to the controls. You don’t look at them.

“It’s a long story.”

You don’t have a chance to elaborate any further because Tech walks in, interrupting the conversation.

“I’ve made the jump to hyperspace. There was a cruiser in the atmosphere, but I was able to quietly go past them by disguising our ship as a bounty hunter’s. They didn’t interfere. I put in the coordinates for Ord Mantell. I estimate our time of arrival to be five hours and thirty two minutes,” Tech reports and Hunter nods while you voice your thanks.

“Looks like we got time!” Wrecker says cheerily, pulling out an extra chair. Tech looks to you in confusion.

“Did I miss something significant?” Tech asks, concerned about the information he did not receive as he adjusts his goggles. You shake your head but now, all eyes are back on you.

“She was just about to tell us how she saved Omega,” Hunter supplies helpfully and Tech nods in understanding. He grabs a chair as well and sits down, interested in hearing what you have to say.

You look around the room, realizing you can’t get out of it. You are exhausted and just want to sleep but based on the looks you are getting from the boys, there is no way you can leave without giving a sufficient answer.

You sit down on a chair in between Omega and Echo and begin explaining.

“When the cone fell, it separated. I got knocked out when I hit the ground, but I don’t think I broke anything,” you quickly reassure as Tech grabs a datapad to scan your vitals.

“After I came to, I tried comming Echo, but my commlink was broken – I could only hear bits and pieces of what he said. There were some voices near me so I just followed them and–” you pause, not sure if you should tell them what happened. What you experienced, what you found out. “–I saw Hunter and Omega. The ledge I found was way too high for me to jump to, so I climbed up the side of the wreckage to see them and the bounty hunter facing off,” you say, choosing to leave the detail out. It was too personal. You still needed time.

All of them are listening intently, hanging on to every word you’re saying. Hunter’s gaze on you is heavy and loaded with questions. Tech is still tapping away on the datapad, but you know you have his full attention. Multitasking may not be possible for regular humans, but it definitely was for Tech.

“When I saw the bounty hunter, I knew Hunter wasn’t going to win,” you mumble sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. Hunter winces at your statement and you rush to explain why.

“Hunter, you have to trust that I genuinely don’t doubt your abilities. You are much more of a soldier than I will ever be. But this bounty hunter is one of the best, if not the best in the entire galaxy. He’s gone against the Jedi, and won. Based on what Anakin told me at the beginning of the war, Cad Bane is ruthless. He tortured Master Ropal and killed him. Believe it or not, I think he tried to abduct Chancellor Palpatine. Even Anakin had a difficult time fighting him.”

A tense quiet settles over you all as you mentally revisit your conversation with Anakin, and later with Ahsoka. She told you how it was one of the first times she was genuinely afraid that she was going to die, or at least get hurt very severely.

Echo’s rough voice shakes you out of your reverie. “How do–did you know General Skywalker?” he asks, clearly confused at how you referred to him on a first-name basis. You mentally facepalm yourself. How did I forget he served as part of the 501st? You feel incredibly stupid.

You could make up a lie, of course, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Hunter’s enhanced senses and Tech’s vitals scan could probably pick up on your biological signs, not to mention you would feel terribly guilty about not being honest. I promised myself I would tell them…

You blow out a nervous breath, deciding to at least give them something. They deserved that much.

“I’m–well, I was a Jedi,” you admit, staring down at your feet. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, feeling almost… ashamed.

The boys are shocked into silence and you cringe. There was probably a much better way for you to say that, but now it was out there. Yet the pressure that had been weighing down on you since you let the Force back in didn’t lessen.

“What?” Wrecker questions, thrown completely for a loop. “You’re a Jedi?”

Before you can answer, Tech pipes up. “When I reviewed your medical data, there was no note about an elevated midi-chlorian count or any sort of connection to the Force. Additionally, there is no documentation of you serving as a General or a Commander during the war in the Republic military records. How were you a Jedi? And why aren’t you one now? You used past tense in your sentence,” Tech adjusts his goggles as he attempts to register this new information that conflicted with his previous knowledge.

You sigh, drumming your fingers on your thigh. “I left the Jedi Order before the war ended. I promise I’ll explain everything in detail later, but for now, you have to understand that I’m just a Force-user. I trained as a Jedi, but I’m not a Jedi, not anymore,” you clarify, lifting your head up to make eye contact with each of them.

“Aw man, that’s so cool. You have to show us your cool mind tricks sometime!” Wrecker smiles and you agree to his request. It warms your heart to see him so excited.

“It makes sense. You must have seen the regs turn on the Jedi but didn’t know why. When you started traveling with us, you didn’t know if we would turn on you too, even though we’re not regs,” Hunter realizes, and you nod in affirmation. You’re secretly relieved by the fact that he doesn’t seem angry, just… just thoughtful.

“And then when I saw what happened to Crosshair, I knew I couldn’t risk ever telling any of you. But when Rex told us about the chips…” you trail off.

Echo picks up your sentence quickly. “You figured out you would be safe with us if we got our chips removed. No wonder you were so insistent on following what Rex said.”

You smile at the last part, a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t wrong. You were probably even more insistent than Rex was on telling them to get their inhibitor chips out. Better to be safe than sorry you told them. Though at the time, you hadn’t even thought about how removing their chips would impact you and your abilities. You were too focused on keeping the Force out of your body to entertain that thought.

Wrecker suddenly gets up and gathers you in a bone-crushing hug. “Well you don’t have to worry now! We got those stupid chips out of our heads, which means I promise we won’t kill you!” he says cheerfully and you can’t help but laugh as you hug him back, the knot in your chest beginning to unravel. You could always count on Wrecker’s wonderfully big heart to raise your spirits.

“You’re right, big guy. It’s honestly a relief. One less thing I have to worry about.”

Wrecker lets go of you and you pick up where you left off. “As I was saying, Cad Bane isn’t a bounty hunter we can take lightly. Crosshair helped me re-engineer my blaster to turn it into a pseudo sniper with attachable parts during the war. Because I was so high up, I could get a clear shot of Bane. From that vantage point, I shot him at the same time Hunter and Bane shot each other.”

Echo’s mouth drops open. “Damn.”

“What I didn’t expect was for Hunter to be rendered completely unconscious. So I told Omega to try to comm you guys while I went on Bane’s ship to see if I could find anything. And I did.” You pull off your backpack and dump out the contents. Bags of credits come tumbling out. You unhook the few bags on your belt and toss them into the pile.

“Bane had a secret compartment with a lot of credits. So I took them and that crate I yelled at Tech to get,” you explain as you reach into the bag to show off the Imperial credits.

Tech’s eyes widen as he lifts up a bag to inspect it. “I will have to calculate how much you took and mark it in the inventory, but based on my initial deduction, this may be enough for us to upgrade the Marauder and provide sustenance for at least a few months.”

“Nice one!” Wrecker compliments and you grin in response. “What’s in the crate?” he asks, walking over to lift up the top.

“Medical supplies. We barely had any left so I figured I might as well take that too,” you shrug as Hunter gets up to join Wrecker to peer at the contents.

“What happened after that? You said you told Omega to comm the others, which means she was awake. Did she get hurt while I was out? Is that why you look so exhausted?” Hunter inquires, astute as ever.

You bite your lower lip. “When I was getting off his ship with the goods, he had woken up again. Before I could do anything, he stunned Omega and then immediately shot at me,” you pause, wondering if you should elaborate on how you got out of the situation. You decide to come clean on this part.

“I… I don’t know how, but I was able to stop the blaster bolts and keep them – and Bane – in stasis with the Force. The problem was that it took a lot out of me. After not really using the Force for so long, my energy reserves were pretty much gone,” you sigh, absentmindedly rubbing your arms. Your muscles are still sore from the event.

“After that, I punched him and knocked him out again. I dragged you and Omega away from the ship so that I could protect you, and I ended up using that giant piece of durasteel as cover to fight off those clones. Then you guys came and rescued us and that’s that,” you finish, suddenly fatigued from the conversation. You slump back into your chair, perfect posture be damned.

“Wow,” is all Echo says, surprised by your strength. It took some serious stamina to be able to withstand so much for so long. Echo remembered seeing Commander Tano and General Skywalker be exhausted after some especially intense missions where they constantly had to use the Force.

“Yeah,” you mutter, massaging your dominant hand. It is still throbbing from the mean hook you threw at Bane. You don’t have any regrets. You glance at Omega’s sleeping figure and soften. The things I would do for this girl.

“Looks like I taught you well!” Wrecker laughs and you smile. When you first met the Bad Batch, Wrecker took it upon himself to teach you basic self-defense and how to overtake an opponent intelligently. Even though you already learned how to fight as part of your Jedi and military training, you couldn’t say no to him when he looked so excited. But it paid off because he’s right. Wrecker did teach you well.

“You did. You basically saved my ass out there with your amazing teaching skills,” you chuckle, glancing down at your hand. You think you’ll probably have to cover it in bacta gel to speed up the healing process before having yet another realization. (You seem to be having a lot of those today.)

I can just Force-heal. Before, you couldn’t Force-heal because it would look suspicious if something healed too fast. But now that they know, you don’t have to solely depend on medical supplies anymore.

Tech, as always, is right on cue. “Is your hand alright? For you to render Bane unconscious must have been no easy feat. Not to mention that according to the medscan I just took, you have a mild concussion, most likely due to your fall. I can run a medical diagnostic test to start and then run more specific tests to combat your pain...” Tech mutters the last part to himself, brain running light years faster than his mouth as his fingers fly over the datapad.

You debate it for a moment before nodding. “That would be great, Tech–thanks. But right now, I’m exhausted, so I’m going to go and crash in my bunk. Wake me up if I need to punch someone again,” you joke before shuffling away from your squadmates. You ruffle Omega’s hair affectionately as you pass by her and pick up your blaster from the ground before climbing down the ladder. You don’t notice Hunter’s troubled gaze or how his Force signature sours a bit as you leave.

You quickly clean up and throw on some bacta patches on a few nasty bruises. You sit down on your bed and pull the privacy curtain before deciding to open up your secret compartment next to your mattress. You stare down at the objects, the only things you have left as a reminder of the past. You reach down for one of them, about to touch it when you stop.

You shake your head and shut the drawer. Deciding to finally, finally hit the hay, you’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow. Dealing with the Force and healing yourself could be done later. Not even your constant pain and crippling worry about your family friends could keep you up any longer.

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

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luck-and-larceny · 3 years

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Things I Like RP Partners to Know

I like to be called:

Any of my character names works, really. And just about any nickname you wanna throw my way works too. Even if it's totally out of left field. Maybe even especially then.

One thing you should know about me:

I like to laugh. I enjoy all kinds of RP. It can be heavy and emotional or light and ridiculous. But I enjoy communicating out of character and even if the scene is super heavy I'll probably be cracking jokes out of character because I like laughing. If that's off-putting I apologize. But there's really nothing to be done about it.

One thing you should know about RPing with my character(s):

Malika: She's a flirtatious thief but I'm not willing to inflict either of those things on you if they're not fun. Her flirting does not mean she's specifically looking to hook up with your character. In fact, it rarely means that. It's just her way of creating a dynamic she enjoys. I won't have her steal from your character unless you OK it or we roll to see if she succeeds. She's a problem. I don't intend to be.

Saachi: She's a whimsical, flighty, adventurous girl who strives to be heroic. She can be naive- but I hope it doesn't come across as her just being stupid. I'd like to get her involved in big storyline where she can save the day, but she's also rather slice of lifey.

Adelaide: She will probably come across as stand-offish and cold, but I hope after talking to her a bit I am able to convey that that's a defense mechanism because she feels awkward in social situations and that underneath it she's actually warmer than that and has a good humor to her. I hope you don’t think that I am stand-offish and cold! She's also really confident about her martial abilities so always happy to do dueling RP with her.

Liv: Is on hiatus atm while I try to figure her out.

First language: English. It is also, unfortunately, the only language I am fluent in.

Age range: under 13 | 14–17 | 18–22 | 23–25 | 26–29 | 30+ | 70+

(Angel is right. It is hilarious this goes from 30+ to 70+ randomly? Does something big happen at 70 that doesn’t happen in the in between years?)

Am I okay with NSFW?: yes (within reason)| no | some nsfw

My favorite/most common thing to rp is: angst | fluff | smut | crack | action | plots | AUs are fine | Violence | Darker themes| I unno.* *What a joy I’m making RP with me seem like! Anyway, I am fine with most all of these. I don’t actually know what crack RP is? One friend suggested it could be like ‘crack shipping where the pairs come out of left field’ and… nah. I guess I’m not into that. Another friend said it’d be fun if it was actually like ‘crack detective’ investigation RP… and yeah! I’m into that! :D

Anyway, I am willing to do most kinds of RP if it makes sense for my character in context and boundaries are respected.

I suppose what I like RPing most are small, contained plots where I get to see the characters react to things (and each other) and see personality come out. And the more of those the characters do the more they learn about each other! But it doesn’t necessarily have to be a big plot line. I like character-centric pieces more than specifically plot-centric ones? Not sure if I made sense there.

I don’t play any characters that are particularly into violence-- though making them engage in it and seeing how that affects the characters can be fun! But I don’t really do violence RP just for the sake of violence, I guess? I want to do it to see how my characters react to it or change from the experience.

Canon Character RP Friendly?: yes | no | depends

RP blog: does contain ooc posts | doesn’t contain ooc posts | occasionally contains ooc |

My RP blogs are mostly inspiration/aesthetics/screenshots/and stupid or funny reblogs for each character. I do have an OOC blog you can follow if you just want really random, very liberal, posts that sometimes feature FFXIV art and more often than that feature videos of people dancing or singing that make me happy. @crimson-thorns But no. I mostly don’t post OOC stuff on my character blogs. Tagged by: @thefreelanceangel and @hangedemperor

Tagging (only tagging one character but mean all alts too!): @dumb-hat , @kestrelvylbrand , @argentrenard , @adanceineorzea , @the-wanted-man , @swingbeard , @halcyonic-aether, @starforger, @zhauric, @songofthemeadow, @aldhun, @shadowofthejackal, @kich-rp, @rabidpocketmonster, @unabashedrebel, @cigarettes-n-daisies, @corpse-dancer, @sundered-souls, @galla-xiv, and omigosh anyone else who wants to.

#Prompts #Answers #FFXIV RP #Malika #Saachi #Adelaide #Liv #FFXIV LFRP #Balmung #What to know about RP #I unno man #I just like meeting people and laughing #I don't want it to feel like a super serious thing we're doing #The RP can be serious!#But I would like us to have fun OOC

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mikkomacko · 4 years

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Bloodsucker I

She loves him.

Loves the way he laughs with all his chest, even if something isn't that funny. Loves the way his emerald green eyes seem to shine. Loves the way his nose twitches when he speaks. She loves everything about him, and she really can't imagine ever not loving him. Harry's just one of the people that linger, always in your heart or mind no matter what. She's certain he'll be someone that's around for eternity.

Eternity. She sighs softly, stroking her fingers through the tangle of curled baby hairs by his temple, imagining a life with Harry. They've been together for almost a year, their anniversary being tomorrow and while it hasn't been very long, y/n hates the thought of not having another year with him. And another after that, and after that, and after that. Morning after morning of seeing his face squished into the pillow, light snores escaping his parted lips.

She's caught up in dreaming up a life with him, one in which she moves into this big house of his and maybe they adopt a little kitty and Harry writes children's stories inspired by their own babies, a beautiful haze that prevents her from noticing the lack of snores coming out of her boyfriend. It's not until his eyes have fluttered open, brilliant in the morning glow, does she realize he's awake.

"S'early dove." Harry croaks, accent thick and voice scratchy. His hand moves out from under the pillow, digging a knuckle into his eye. "Sleep with me again, got all weekend to ourselves."

A smile stretches her mouth, fingers still carding through his hair and he practically purrs at the feeling as he nuzzles back into the pillow. It's true, Harry insisted they spend the whole weekend at his place, just the two of them loving on each other until their anniversary dinner tomorrow night. She didn't hesitate to agree, happily packing up a few necessities from her apartment to now occupy the side of the bed he always reserves for her.

"M'not tired H." Y/n mumbles back, willing away her droopy eyes. Her body feels tired, limbs warm and heavy under the multiple blankets on the bed, but her heart is wide awake and restless.

Scolding, Harry raises the one eyebrow that's not hidden by the pillow. "Know you're tired. Eyes are puffy and ya've got dark circles." Bones cracking like a glow stick, Harry pushes himself up with a slight wince and urges her onto her back so he can fit his large frame between her thighs. He leans down to press a chaste kiss to her forehead, so light her eyes close allowing him to kiss her eyelids with the touch of a butterfly wing. "Sleepy baby."

"Kissy, baby?"

Harry chuckles, breath fanning across the lower half of her face before he connects their mouths at her request, and his enjoyment. Lips still kissing, hers now parted to give him the opportunity to explore, Harry shuffles further up her body to press the bulge in his underwear against her crotch. The blankets fall down to the crooks of his knees, exposing them to the morning air but neither care as he breaks from her mouth to press kisses across her jawbone, up to her ear.

"S'have a morning shag baby," Harry pleads, as if they don't always have a morning shag, and his teeth teasingly nibble on her ear lobe. A bubbly giggle leaves her mouth, nails scratching at his bare shoulder blades. "What are ya laughing for?? M'serious."

Oh she knows he's serious. She can feel just how serious he is against her thigh. "You just told me to go back to sleep!"

Harry pulls back, lifting himself to his hands and frowning down at her. "Well yeah but I think you'd rest better after I've fucked ya good."

He looks like a petulant child, eyebrows pinched together and lips pursed in a grumpy pout. How he can go from being a 28 year old man to a 4 year old boy is unknown to her but she doesn't care because he's her man to love and her boy to baby when he needs it.

"You want to?"

Scoffing, Harry nods rapidly. "Really really want to." As if proving his point he ruts his hips forward just once, allowing her to feel his eagerness. Y/n seals their lips together again, hooking a leg around his hip and using her foot to push his briefs down.

"Go on then, tire me out H."

That's all he really needs before he's removing her pajama shirt, leaving her naked beneath him. His fingertips leave dots of electricity across her skin, gripping her hip in one hand and her thigh in the other. Their mouths part after a sloppy peck, Harry dragging his lips down the column of her throat and nudging the head of his prick between her folds. Like always, when he sinks all the way between her walls, y/n is mush of dazed moans and clingy hands. Harry's quick with his thrusts, fucking her somewhat sloppily but perfectly, and the haze that settles around them is otherworldly. Y/n thinks Harry must be some other being with the way he's always able to pull her apart without much effort. Little does she know, her thoughts aren't far off because after she's reached her peak, whimpering and clenching around his cock, and Harry's emptied inside her as well, he stays awake until she's fully asleep again, tired enough to not even stir when he sinks two sharp teeth into her jugular.

Harry thinks her blood is otherworldly.

<|>

The mid-day sun filters through the yellow and red leaves, scattering into beams of tinged light on the kitchen floor. A pan of tofu sizzles on the stove, the chicken seasoning on it overpowering the smell of pumpkin guts that had filled his kitchen an hour ago when they had carved the vegetable. Harry's wearing the apron he stole from her apartment a few months ago, a blue and white flannel pattern that makes his eyes appear baby blue as well.

They've always enjoyed cooking together, Harry doing more of the cooking and her more of the tasting because he's got magic senses in the kitchen. Everything he makes is delicious, always impressing her whether it's a brand-new recipe or a repeated favorite dish, and she once again longs for forever with him.

"A lifetime gone by,

more years than men need,

a gift of another was bestowed upon me,

and yet time with you will always be..."

The pause in the air is palpable, y/n waiting eagerly for him to continue while she drains their ramen noodles. When the moments passed and Harry is still hunched over the counter, peering down at his journal in deep thought, she speaks. "Always be what babe?"

The scrunch of his nose tightens, sighing in frustration and dropping his black pen to the counter. "Don't know. S'just too many words I could put there but I don't like the way they sound." Shutting the journal, he shoves it aside on the counter until it's resting next to his laptop and other plot lines. While Harry's written many books under a different name, he's starting his first ever poetry book and it's proven to be even more of a struggle than writing romance or horror novels (they're his two favorite).

Shuffling around the counter top, he moves to stir the tofu around in the pan with a disgruntled frown on his face. Placing the noodles back on the stove, y/n drapes herself against his back, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. "You'll get it H," she promises, "you're amazing with words and you've got such a beautiful mind. Wise beyond your years, you know that?"

She doesn't see his smile nor the nervous bob of his Adams apple. If only she knew just how many years he's had.

<|>

In the back corner of the restaurant, a candle flickering between the two of them, y/n watches with hearts in her eyes as he slices through his steak. Her own plate of pasta and sautéed veggies is half eaten in front of her, but there’s no room for any more food in her belly due to the amount of butterflies swirling in there.

“Was thinking of a new story today.” Harry says after swallowing the bite in his mouth and rinsing it down with a gulp of wine. “‘Nother romance one.”

“You’ve been writing a lot of romance lately,” she comments, “not in a horror mood right now?”

His lips quirk up bashfully, popping a bite of medium rare meat between in his teeth. Chest expanding with a deep inhale, he chews with suspense, fists resting on the dining table with his knife and fork in each palm. He looks handsome, powerful and regal with his hair curling down his shoulders perfectly and his button up shirt being more shirt than buttoned up. She wants to reach over the table and trace her fingers over his soft collarbones but she refrains. For now.

“S’fun to write romance when you’ve got a muse.”

The blood that rises to her cheeks is warm and beautiful, catching Harry's eye immediately. He hadn't intended to fluster her with the comment, but now that he's done it he can't help but drool. Which is why they spend the rest of dinner praising each other, Harry's mouth filling with venom every time he hears or smells her blood warm under his words.

And he enjoys her soft spoken words too. It's been a while since he's felt like more than just a monster, and hearing his girl tell him how much she loves and adores him, how she'll never get enough of him, is almost heartwarming.

He's starry eyed when they leave the restaurant, barely catching the keys that the valet hands him followed by the words "get home safe."

Gets home safe. It's ironic Harry thinks right now, with his hand stretched over the center console to hold hers. She looks exhausted, head slumped against the window but watching him with a fond smile. He can feel the thumping of her heart, the pure adoration radiating off of her being. It's the exact way he feels about her. It's the exact reason their blood runs through each other. It's the exact reason why he wants her with him forever. And, unfortunately, it's the exact reason her choice of life is taken from her.

"If you could, would you be mine forever?" He asks, stomach twisting nervously. She doesn't know the extent of the question but he still would like to know. His words cause her to perk up, eyes widening in happiness and a smile pulling at her lips.

Too caught up in her bright eyes, Harry fails to notice the deer crossing the street directly in front of them. Even with his heightened senses, she takes up all of him. It's at the last moment that he catches it out of the corner of his eye, slamming on the brakes and jerking out of the path of the animal. The tires skid and Harry loses all control of the car as it runs off the side of the road. Instinctively, his hands leave the wheel, one coming up to shield his face while the other reaches over for y/n. He's going to grab her, has to grab her. He has to keep her safe. Unfortunately he's not fast enough before the car slams into the tree, glass shattering around them. But over the sound of it all, Harry can only hear her heart take it's last beat.

<|>

Y/n is convinced that she's just waking up. Her day with Harry, their anniversary dinner, the car ride home, the deer....it was all a dream. She'd been up earlier than usual, maybe she fell into such a deep sleep it seemed real.

She's back at Harry's, that she's certain of because it's practically her room as well. The smell of him is stronger, stinging her nostrils and the back of her throat. This does nothing but make the pounding in her skull even worse, eyes squeezing shut to block out the dim room. The action is futile however, because nothing could possibly block out the pain in her body. Her insides feel cold and heavy, weighing down on her muscles and bones. It's then that she realizes the hollowness of her chest.

Her heart's not beating.

The organ that gave her life, fueled her body has gone still, turned to stone in her chest. She's dead. She's died and the afterlife has brought her to Harry's house, to her home.

She doesn't remember what happened, not really. Their anniversary dinner stands out in the fog of her memory, Harry sat under the warm lights in his baby blue button up and suit jacket, the swallows on his chest joining them for dinner. Holding his hand in the car, admiring the way their matching rings look when they're side-by-side. The last thing she can pick out of the night is Harry looking over at her, stoplight gleaming in his eyes as he softly and longingly whispered "if you could, would you be mine forever?"

If he'd been with her in the last place she remembers, perhaps he's here with her too. Pushing herself up from his bed and onto her elbows causes a sharp sting on the bend of her elbow, and when she opens her eyes to investigate, the sight makes her dizzy.

A tube has been stuck into her veins, thick red blood turning the plastic a deep maroon color. It's as if she's simply giving blood if it weren't for the fact that the blood bag attached to the tube is emptying, not filling. And resting on the floor next to the draining one is another empty bag. Her mind swirls with confusion and panic, wondering why she'd need blood in the afterlife and why so much of it. Dead people don't need blood.

"Y/n?"

His voice catches her off guard, snapping her attention away from the blood and turning it towards the doorway of his bedroom. Harry stands in the shadows, face dark with the hallway light illuminating his silhouette.

"Harry?" She whimpers, tears welling in her eyes in relief. He's here which means she'll be ok. He'll take care of her. He inches forward at the sound of her trembling voice but doesn't approach the bed much to her disliking. "Harry please-"

"Are you in pain?" He cuts her off, voice void of any of the usual warmth he carries when speaking to her. His gruffness makes her pause, tears stilling in her eyes. That's not her Harry, she's not safe with whoever is standing in the doorway right now. Cautious, she stays silent. "Does anything hurt y/n? You have to tell me if it does."

As if triggered by his words, a sharp pains seizes in her chest and she's unable to stop the wince that curls her shoulders forward. Harry moves at that, now perching himself on the end of the bed next to her. Before she can make any move away from him, he reaches out, pressing his palm over the throbbing area of her chest and urging her back into the pillows. His touch dulls the pain, leaving her pliant and teary as she watches his shadow.

"S'your organs hardening," Harry says solemnly, not offering another explanation. Y/n thinks she could throw up, her stomach churning and bubbling uncomfortably. Hardening?

"My heart's not beating."

Harry nods, just once. The band that's on her chest moves up to cup her cheek, thumb swiping over her cheek to remove the tear that had fallen. "I know dove, and s'all my fault." His voice cracks, a sniffle breaking through the dark and she wants to sit up and hug him, feel his comfortable arms around her. She refrains, not wanting that sharp pain to spread throughout her body again.

"What's your fault Harry? What's going on?"

Finally, he reaches over and flicks on the lamp on the bedside table. The bulb bathes the room in a soft light, illuminating Harry's sullen face. For the first time since she's met him, his eyes are red rimmed and glazed with tears of anguish. Inhaling shakily, Harry threads his fingers through her hair.

"It's my fault s'not beating darling. I'm your Maker."

"Maker?" She asks, confused.

"You're a vampire now y/n. I turned you."

#Bloodsucker #vampire!Harry #harry styles #fanfic #fanfiction #Harryween #Halloween special #spooky #harry styles au #Harry x reader

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missanthropicprinciple · 3 years

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A Tale of Elio and My Fixation with Lovable Androids

TL;DR Feel free to scroll past this unless you’re keen to read my ramblings about androids, Neoclassical art, children’s lit, and bad science fiction movies.

Since the late 1990s one of my favourite books has been A Tale of Time City (1989) by Diana Wynne Jones. It’s a mildly confusing story but engaging, with memorable characters, including the android Elio, pictured above - my own fan art from a few years ago. Studio Ghibli really needs to make this film if no one does a live-action version, seeing as they brought Jones’ novel Howl’s Moving Castle to life. Here’s a scan of my favourite edition with mesmerizing cover art by Richard Bober.

This book inspired me so much I’ve done research on it. I wasn’t in a class in grad school that allowed me to write about it so I took it on as a casual independent project in 2019. Two days after my dad died of cancer I was scheduled to present my paper on Elio from ATOTC. Needless to say I was not able to finish writing the essay. I told the department coordinator I would likely not attend but I would let him know. He was seriously surprised that I showed up. I must have looked like a ghost - wearing a nice top, skirt, tights, and short heels. I was still in total shock but I thought I might as well press on. My paper’s working tile remains as it was: Elio: Android Autonomy and the Personification of the Sun God. I presented a long bullet point list of working ideas and research done up until that point. My work is still on the broad side because it’s an intersection of young adult fiction, Neoclassic art, and android autonomy; I have some narrowing to do. Here are my main arguments thus far:

Firstly, the android character Elio’s physical characteristics and personality are inspired by Helios, the Hellenistic Greek god and personification of the sun. Apparently, Elio is a Spanish name meaning sun and also an Italian given name referring to the element helium, originally derived from the Greek name of the sun-god Helios.

Secondly, Elio and Helios share more than an etymological connection and the comparison of Elio to Helios can be articulated in two distinct ways: the aesthetic comparison, and that Elio possesses some of the qualities Helios is known for. Jones’ work repeatedly associates Elio with sunlight and golden hues, aspects which are exemplified in the 1765 Neoclassical painting Helios as the Personification of Midday by Anton Raphael Mengs. (I vaguely remember translating a couple passages from a large art book written in German when I was studying Neoclassical art.)

This work is considered an unusual depiction of Helios. Mengs uses a motif of the glowing arrow which is interpreted by François-Xavier Fabre as a symbol of the midday heat and the sun's rays which penetrate and give light to the earth. The representation of the sun in this way is considered unusual for the 18th century because it goes against Classical and Baroque iconography which portrays Helios riding a chariot. Ironically, Jones references this. Elio proclaims his fondness for films, particularly the chariot race from Ben Hur. Elio, like Mengs’ depiction of Helios, lacks a chariot but retains his beauty and powers.

As for Elio possessing some of the qualities of Helios, the god is often referred to as “all seeing” or “Zeus’s eye.” Similarly, Elio has the ability to anticipate problems and see what humans do not, but not because he’s a god, but because he’s a servant. However, this is where his self governing comes into play when he uses his observations to take action beyond any directives he has been given. His physical strength, like Helios, exceeds that of humans. Elio himself says, “my utmost is more than twice that of a born-human” (Jones, 211).

Thirdly, Elio’s self awareness allows him to use both his powers of observation and superior physical strength independent from humans. He does not always wait to be told how to use his power; he wields it. Not only does he play a part equal to that of humans in Jones’ plot, he specifically controls the fates of certain human characters. For example, he doesn’t always utilize his speed when he’s at the beck and call of his master, Sempitern. He makes choices not to fully comply with the demands made of him.

My fourth point, which I can’t quite articulate well, is that the most significant dynamic of this comparison is the body of Elio and how his physicality interacts with his autonomy. Elio acts as an individual who contributes to a wider mythology just as Helios does. Yet, while Elio is superior to humans in many ways, his quasi-humanity allows him to act in ways which align with Helios’ qualities.

For example, Elio makes personal choices and exhibits emotions not necessary for him, as an android, to function. He confesses a desire to harm another android out of annoyance where a passionate opinion would not be expected from an android. This human failing is indicative of the same autonomy which allows him to act as Helios does. Elio has been constructed as a superhuman body in terms of his abilities, however, the human qualities which contribute to his Helios-like powers undermine his intended purpose.

Ultimately, Elio ascends the usefulness of his “owned” body by acting independently from the humans who utilize him. His human qualities make him vulnerable and therefore he loses some of his godlike powers. Elio, while only an assistant to his human owners, utilizes his own physical and mental powers to maintain his autonomy. Conversely, his god-like qualities make Elio more human rather than affirming his android identity.

This is a very complex subject and I don’t really know where I’m going with it and have possibly made some suppositional errors. TL;DR: What I do know is that Elio presents a paradox: being idealized for his abilities allows him to be autonomous while being autonomous disrupts the servitude of his body.

I am in the process of determining what lens I will use to analyze Elio’s experience and functionality of being an android. I’m thinking about using Alan Turning’s 1950 work Computing Machinery and Intelligence. I’m still navigating the literary theory aspect, or indeed philosophical aspect, of this area of study.

This brings me to something I came across later that relates to Elio and ATOTC.

SPOILERS AHEAD

The closest depiction of an android that I’ve seen to Elio other than Data is from a terrible and somewhat forgotten science fiction film from 1989. “Byron”, (played by pre-Jurassic Park-fame Bob Peck) the android in the painfully awful film Slipstream comes very close to Elio in terms of tone, attitude, and characterization. Despite the embarrassingly bad script and dialogue, Peck does a bang-up job, seemingly acting in a wonderful film running parallel to the absolute trash his co-stars were apparently “acting” in. Yes, I rewatched this film just to write this analysis. (The secondhand embarrassment is off the charts and I had it playing at a low volume most of the time Byron was not on the screen.)

When you first see Byron he’s acting out autonomy but you’re not aware he’s an android. The audience is told he’s an escaped fugitive, a murderer, and that’s all we know for over half the film. Yet there are several clues. When you first see him he’s running over rugged terrain in a suit which was kind of a big hint but nothing makes sense in this film so I just thought that it was a weird costume choice. Then he’s literally shot with a grappling hook. He doesn’t seem to be in pain even though he’s shocked by it, and then is pulled down by a bounty hunter named Tasker (Mark Hamill) and hits the ground from a great height and doesn’t die. He just quotes what I think is John Gillespie Magee, Jr.’s "High Flight”: “I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth….and touched the face of God.” Next time you see him, he’s in handcuffs, looking super depressed, and apparently not bleeding out from the now absent grapple hook that’s gone through his forearm.

He eventually quotes Lord Byron to cryptically indicate his name which is lost on Bill Paxton’s character, Matt. “Byron” essentially means cowshed. It’s ironic because Byron the android is in many ways a receptacle of knowledge. Matt even says sarcastically, “Well aren’t you a walking storeroom of information,” and Byron responds cheerfully, “Yes.”

Byron breaks out of his handcuffs saying they’d “become rather superfluous.” You think he’s just showing off but once you know he’s an android you know he’s just honest all the time. He then heals a blind child and paraphrases Psalm 127:3. Matt says, “I didn’t know you were a healer.” Apparently Byron can perform cataract surgery in less than five minutes. Along their journey together (Bill is set on collecting the bounty on Byron’s head before Tasker can catch up) they camp out. Byron sleeps with his eyes open. (Even if he is an android wouldn’t his eyes need to be “cleaned” in the same way humans need to close our eyes and blink?) Matt wakes up to find Byron seemingly strangling him. “I was feeling your carotid pulse,” he explains. “I was just checking for arrhythmia and episodes of ventricular tachycardia.” At this point you realize he’s not so much a spiritual healer as a doctor who philosophizes a lot.

Byron’s miraculous behavior and pontificating is called into question by a nomadic spiritual community which has been torn apart by an attack on their village. As he lays dying, Ben Kingsley’s character calls Byron a “false prophet” but his faith in this stranger is somewhat restored when he says, “all that will be left of me is bits of gold in the sand. You have a soul, do not abandon it in death.”

Another character says, “The stranger is no mortal man.” Therefore it is clear that Byron likely isn’t human. We don’t find out he’s an android until 46 minutes into the film. Once that’s cleared up, other concepts arise in the script. While not well executed, they are really interesting; emotion both positive and negative, free will, perfection, A.I. slavery, and murder are all addressed throughout the second half of the film. Byron says he doesn’t understand “hate” in context of his “master” to whom he was nurse, brother, father, mentor, and friend, but he admits he was more of a slave than anything else.

The character Ariel takes an interest in him for a variety of reasons, especially romantically. In one very evocative moment we see Byron in a museum exhibit, a false garden of Eden, full of fake vegetation and taxidermies, full body mounts. So we’ve got an android having an Adam experience. Whether or not he experiences “original sin” with Ariel or if he’s “fully functional” is never acknowledged. Although one woman says, “Amanda slept with a robot?!” (who the f**k is Amanda?!) and a man says to another sitting next to him, “I hear they’re rather mechanical in the saddle.”

Byron is less concerned with consummation and more excited about love, sleep, and dreaming. When he is with Ariel he doesn’t quite know how to act in terms of sexual play and then apologizes: “I’m not accustomed to being loved.” We see him closing his eyes when he’s cuddled up with Ariel; the next day he is certainly very pleased that he fell asleep with his eyes closed and had a dream.

In terms of his servitude and autonomy they did not spend an adequate portion of the exposition on it. Matt has a change of heart and says instead of collecting the bounty, he’ll set him free as it’s briefly revealed that Byron killed his “master” upon the man’s request. Naturally, this brings up a lot of confusing feelings for Byron. “Is this what it’s like to be human? I don’t think I’m up to it,” he says. “Can I be trusted with human feelings?” And in a way he cannot. Ariel is brutally shot by Tasker.

Byron is angered over Ariel’s death and follows the bounty hunter to his ship. Instead of taking him in to collect a reward, Tasker tries to run him down with the glider plane. Byron manages to get himself caught in the engine and starts to strangle his assailant. Tasker quotes “touched the face of god” which brings Byron to his senses and he stops killing Luke Skywalker Tasker and tries to save the plane. It looks like he’s going to hot-wire it but then uses the wires like reins (chariot imagery???). They crash into the side of a mountain slope. Tasker dies but Byron survives. Apparently he’s basically indestructible and somewhat godlike. “I’m too dangerous to be human,” Byron tells Matt. In the end, he goes off in search of the place he’d been dreaming about.

Although in terms of physical appearance the two androids are vastly different, they have so much in common. Here are some basic concepts.

Character: Both are stoic, formal, intelligent, honest

Indestructible: Byron is injured with a grappling hook, takes a major fall of about 20 or 30 feet without a scratch: he is somewhat godlike or slave-like, meant to withstand destruction and pain. Elio is less indestructible but easily repaired.

Healer: Byron has the skills to heal people with basic surgery. Elio doesn’t take his own injuries seriously and experiences pain for the first time (Jones, 218-9).

Both think they deserve to be punished: Elio states this quite clearly (Jones, 276) and Byron says the same thing about himself with resigned passivity.

Complex relationship with “human emotions”: Both come to terms with violence, anger, and love.

Autonomy: At the end of the film Byron goes off on his own to look for a promised land. Elio decides his own fate by deciding to accompany the children of the story, stating that Vivian is a “particular favorite” of his (278).

Dreaming and stories: Byron is searching for a place, “where I think I belong,” he says, which is a place he often thinks and dreams about. Dreaming is considered to be a human attribute, a non-essential bi-product to consciousness. Elio enjoys stories and old films (Jones, 180), similarly “human” in nature.

(Peck, seen here waiting for Bill Paxton to learn how to act. Sorry, I’m salty.)

Disclaimer: This is a work in progress! This project is an intersection of niche subjects that interest no one but myself.

Anyway, my point is (yes, I did have a point...or rather several) was that if anyone should adapt A Tale of Time City, Byron from Slipstream is the best example of how Elio should be portrayed in terms of characterization. I feel that Slipstream should have been centered around Byron. The film was kind of like, just about the “we’re both fighting over the bounty of this fugitive” sorta thing. It would have made more sense to focus on Byron as he is arguably the most interesting character and represents many of the conflicts within the story. I would like to combine my research on ATOTC and Slipstream one day. In any case, this is a good start.

Works Cited (WIP)

Jones, Diana W. A Tale of Time City: Knopf, 1987. Print. Perkowitz, Sidney. Digital People: From Bionic Humans to Androids. Washington, D.C: Joseph Henry Press, 2004. Print.

Roettgen, Steffi, and Anton R. Mengs. Anton Raphael Mengs: 1728-1779 Part 2. München: Hirmer, 1999. Print.

Turing, A. M. “Computing Machinery and Intelligence.” Mind, vol. 59, no. 236, 1950, pp. 433–460. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/2251299. Wilson, Eric. The Melancholy Android: On the Psychology of Sacred Machines. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2006. Print

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baby-bearie · 4 years

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carving cuts

cedric diggory x reader a/n: ok screw u tumblr let me post. this is for brick’s writing challenge, and i wrote it in like 30 minutes because i realized the deadline is today. i haven’t written in forever, so it’s not great. please excuse the lack of plot and enjoy the fluff.

The tree just behind the second window on the right wall of the infirmary is the best place for thinking. Sitting under it, leaves twirling down around you from the fiery orange canopy above, the only sounds to be heard are the rustling of the tree leaves as they snap and tumble down. This is the only corner of Hogwarts you can think of not swamped with excitement - as autumn usually brings.

The season creates a stir in Hogwarts. Quidditch games are packed, the stands completely filled. Students bustle down the hallways eagerly whispering to their friends. Bets are already being placed on how far into his fourth year of school Harry Potter will get before someone tries to kill him.

Under this tree, Hogwarts does not exist. You sit facing away from the school, back pressed up against the far side of the tree. The book clutched in your hands is tarnished every once in a while with a stray golden leaf, landing between the pages. No matter. It does not disturb you.

What does disturb you is an unfairly taller than you asshole who snatches the book out of your hands.

“Good lord, Y/l/n, I’ve been searching for you everywhere. You were supposed to meet me in the courtyard 30 minutes ago!”

You snap around quickly, up on your feet to glare at Cedric who takes no notice of your sour expression, instead leaning against the tree and opening your book.

“You and your muggle books. What is this one?” He turns it over to see the cover.

“Pride and Prejudice. And they’re really very good. Stop beating on them because you can’t figure out how to read, Diggory.”

Cedric loudly clears his throat before beginning in a oddly stiff voice, “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” He grins, one hand digging into his pocket. “Got a few sickles in’ere somewhere, I swear.” He mutters.

“Aha!” Cedric pulls out 3 knuts and offers them to you. “Sweetheart,” he begins, grinning.

“Oh, no,” You attempt to condemn him but you can’t help but laugh.

“As I am a single man,” he continues anyways, even more pleased with your laughter.

“A single man?” “Yes, a single man.” He dismisses your comment.

“And I am,” He opens the book again and reads, “in possession of a good fortune.”

Cedric tucks the book under his arm and grabs your hand, holding it open so he can dispense the handful of currency into it.

“Then I must be in want of a wife, correct?” He looks so proud of his handful of knuts and his understanding of Pride and Prejudice that you agree.

“Absolutely, Mr. Diggory. And if I may ask, who do you intend to make your wife?” Your eyes are dancing with glee, sure of his answer.

He purses his lips in thought before slinging an arm over your shoulder, the both of you beginning the trek back to the castle.

“I’m not sure, all of the girls I know are quite boring.” He tries to shrug, but finds it quite difficult to do so with his arm still around you.

“Boring?” “Yes, boring. Such boring names, like Y/n. Such boring books they read. Some of these girls are quite like you.” He nods at you, as if he pities your likeness to such boring girls.

“Really? Do their boyfriends plan horribly boring dates, too?” “No, they plan amazingly exciting dates. The boring girlfriends are too boring to show up on time. They keep reading boring books instead.” He turns to face you, cheeks flushed red as you come to a stop.

“Say boring one more time and you’ll really be a single man with a small fortune, Diggory.”

“Well, how uninteresting does pumpkin carving at Hagrid’s patch sound?’ “It sounds like I don’t trust you anywhere near a knife.” “Thoughts on a picnic?” “We don’t have any food?” “Apple picking?” “You ruined your boots last week, Cedric.” “Jesus Christ woman, what do you want to do?”

You hook your arm in his again.

“Pumpkin carving sounds fine.”

Pumpkin carving was not fine.

It started completely safe, until Cedric got his hands on a blade. You made the fatal mistake of not watching him and looked up from your masterpiece just in time to see him angle his hand next to the knife the wrong way.

“Ced, wait-” you reached out to stop him, but you heard his knife drop to the ground and the sharp hiss and it was too late.

“Oh, what did you do?” You set down your knife, picking up his hand to inspect the wound. He had a clean cut across his palm, and it was already seeping blood.

“How did you even do this? By all accounts, being this dangerous to yourself should not be possible.”

Cedric dropped his forehead to your shoulder, wincing when your fingertips got too near the cut. “Yeah, that’s me. Making the impossible possible. Honey, could you not keep pulling- ow, enough!” He whines.

“We gotta get you to the infirmary, Ced. That needs to be cleaned and then Pomfrey can fix you up.” You begin to gather your things, as Cedric stops you.

“Wait, wait, wait. Maybe I shouldn’t get it fixed up. Maybe I should just let it scar.” He grins.

You stare at him in disbelief momentarily. “Are you being serious?”

Cedric nods, “A scarred palm would be absolutely brilliant, seriously, Y/n.”

“Cedric Diggory, you are a bloody idiot. Come on, let’s go.”

taglist: @bricksatanakinswindow @sunflowermotel @maraseavey @outerbanqs @tinylatina01 @obx-direction-sos

#brickswritingchallenge #cedric diggory imagine #harry potter imagine #cedric diggory fluff #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x reader #harry potter #hp #cedric diggory imagines #harry potter imagines

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blankd · 3 years

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Thoughts on The Mitchells vs the Machines

I watched it a while ago and kept forgetting to post my thoughts on it, but some posts here on tumblr recently reminded me.

I disagree with the majority takeaways I see but is that not the spice of life?

As a standalone movie its inoffensive and the writing of it will likely exit my brain in a few months. However I can appreciate that the visual style was different from the typical fare and the mixture of 2d elements for visual embellishments were mostly enjoyable and well-suited for Katie as the POV character.

It's a bit "hyper" for my liking, but that's fine, it's likely intended for an audience that's accustomed to the flood that is the current norm of the internet. It was probably made with GIFable moments in mind and that is the most frequent content that is shared about it, so it certainly succeeded in that regard.

My more critical take is that jokes are delivered at the expense of what could be more authentic themes. Quips are made that draw attention to character flaws or undercut questions the movie should try to answer, but inevitably they are ignored to move onto the next joke or story beat.

The rest would fall more into spoiler territory, so read more for that.

--"They Were Both In the Wrong"

I personally disagree heavily with the thrust of how "both sides" were wrong when the degrees are disproportionate.

I've seen claims that Katie was "as in the wrong" as her father, but she's incredibly patient to the man who does her material harm.

I've yet to have seen someone say specifically what Katie did *wrong* to her father that is at all on par with the *years* he at best hasn't been able to interact with her or worse, actively refused to engage with her interests.

I would generously venture that her flaw was that she was more willing to communicate her feelings to strangers, but she easily talks to her mother and brother- her brother even helps her with her movies and she happily engages him with his own interests, which pivots the point back to how her father is physically/emotionally unavailable and led to the erosion and distance between the two of them.

Due to this, MvM comes across more as Kaite having to do so much more to guide her father rather than a more mutual learning experience for the both of them.

--"Technology that [Dis]Connects"

It's probably beyond the scope and intent of the film, but I was surprised there was no examination about why technology can be more alluring than interacting with physically present people.

For better or worse, the internet can be used as a means of supplementing the validation and acceptance of family. It can also lead to no longer connecting to people around them because of the validation high of appealing to a constantly 'awake' sea of strangers- the spotlight is warmer than the cold reality that they are not the internet image they have cultivated.

For example, the rival 'perfect' family was never revealed to be a carefully constructed highlight reel that Mrs. Mitchell envies, they really were actually that perfect- because that provides an easier punchline than an examination or acknowledgement of how the internet can create unhealthy expectations.

I also can't expect MvM to acknowledge the reality that LGBTA+ people who are rejected by their family resort to seeking a new one through the internet because it would be much harder to redeem/rehabilitate a man defined by being tethered to "old values" if he was homophobic instead of "overprotective" and apprehensive at his daughter's departure from home and her dubious art career.

But hey we got that quick line at the end that Katie likes a girl, so that's a diversity win or something.

(To be clear I'm not expecting a whole parade or even an A or B-plot dedicated to it, but I think it should be acknowledged that this kind of "surprise inclusion" is very easily erased with a change of audio and would be completely unsurprised if this were the case for countries that are homophobic. People can be happy about it, but it is dishonest to pretend that this is a bolder statement than it is.)

In that sense, I do and don't hold MvM to taking a "safer" route about how family always has your back, but this still feels like an important omission considering the focus on technology and its dynamic with the Mitchells.

I will also say that it was also bizarre, to me at least, that the obvious route that her father sees the value of home videos didn't become an active point between him and Katie. Or that Mr. Mitchell's carpentry never really amounts to anything despite having a sentimental wooden moose.

Lastly, I think it's an unintentional, but it's interesting that Katie going to college to pursue her passion is viewed as a Terrible Thing by her father even though if he had his way, he'd be ostensibly living in the woods away from everyone else except his wife.

This isn't a problem, people are a collection of contradictions, but It's fascinating to see what the *narrative* treats as a difficult sacrifice while simultaneously pulling at heartstrings when PAL cites how children ignore their mothers. There's an unexamined comedy that Mr. Mitchell's losing out on his 'passion' to live in the woods away from people is treated as tragic despite the movie's insistence on staying connected with your blood family.

--"The Inconsistent Personhood of AI"

PAL is rightfully angry at being discarded for something new; it's provided as a glimpse of what Katie will do when she finds 'her people' at college.

This in of itself is a good hook, because there is no one universal answer to when a flawed relationship should be mended with compromise or if it's better off being broken for the wellbeing of the ones involved. Family and relationships are not programming, it's a choice and a gamble for whatever it brings but is nonetheless something that must be mutually worked upon.

Initially I thought that PAL was being set up as an exaggerated parallel to Mr. Mitchell. PAL and Mr. Mitchell did their best to provide for their family. PAL and Mr. Mitchell are in different stages of being 'discarded' by their family. PAL and Mr. Mitchell both retaliate at their lack of power in the scenario by using the power granted by their roles to infringe on the autonomy of others for selfish reasons.

PAL even gives a 'chance' for her plan to be halted with, I had assumed this was being set up as the thesis of the movie, about humanity and the value of family, relationships, etc. being used to help someone who is already hurting.

But despite Katie looking at the camera and explaining herself, it is never actually directly resolved or challenged because a punchline was deemed more desirable for this narrative climax.

This begs the question of why PAL bothered with the pretense that she could be reasoned with, especially since this is not some question leveled at all of humanity, just two people.

I'm curious how the writers came to the conclusion that this was the best execution of the scene or if Katie's speech was considered immune to any challenge from PAL. Would anyone have accepted this outcome if PAL were not an AI but instead a person?

It's not necessarily bad writing they went this route, but I doubt anyone would consider this good writing either.

By the end of the movie, PAL is no longer a 'person' who was betrayed and is lashing out, she is an object to be destroyed because the movie has to wrap up. No compassion or chances are spared to this AI that did literally everything asked of her except take being discarded quietly.

Did PAL deserve a redemption arc? For this length of movie, probably not. But it could have concluded with a commitment to doing no further harm. Instead it is an accidental glimpse at how easily the pretense of compassion can be quickly discarded and mostly unexamined with the right framing.

A likely unintentional example is the conditional humanity given to Eric and Deborahbot who are adopted as "family" while the rest of the robots are mowed down without another thought. Some are even beaten and broken while begging for mercy, because again, it is a funnier punchline.

Far be it for me to advocate that the murderbots needed 'a second chance uvu' but for a movie whose conceit rests on 'sticking by family' and 'giving chances', the writers certainly made a choice in deciding which AI get honorary humanity and spared violent death- perhaps PAL had a point about humanity's callousness after all. Bad robots are discarded, good robots get to live.

Even the CEO who realizes he enabled this mess (easily the most unrealistic part of the movie, honestly) is given another chance and he manages to take away a completely wrong lesson.

Speaking of-

--"Maybe I Shouldn’t Have Used Tech Like This"

There's a particular image/gif set posted about MvM with the CEO apologizing for the machine uprising, attributing it to unchecked technology and monopolies. I've always seen it accompanied by people congratulating the scene as if any of this is at all relevant to the movie.

Charitably, these are people who haven't watched the movie and don't know that PAL is a phone AI single-handedly doing this, but most take the stance that this scene is proof the movie is not saying technology is bad, only corporations are.

The speech isn't technically wrong but it is so utterly divorced from what happens in the movie that it's surreal to see people congratulate it as anything but a moment of soapboxing.

None of the datagrabbing was used at all as part of the takeover. It's all magical kid-friendly terminators with no relevance to what anyone's browsing history is. If the company was one that produced robot assistants instead of a being a super tech monopoly, there would be no narrative difference.

The closest to a predatory tactic that is used in MvM is the offer of free wifi which is used to lure most people into their cells which they happily comply with. Curiously this... commentary of people’s mindless addiction to technology is not acknowledged by the Tumblr Court with the same intensity as the CEO’s speech.

But more constructively, I do feel it’s a missed opportunity that Katie who's supposed to be an extremely online person apparently never said any bad things about her family or made any petty vent films for PAL to weaponize. Instead an in-media audio at one of the outskirt locations was used to accomplish its Traitor Revealed moment.

IN CONCLUSION

MvM is a movie that involves topics that ought to be touched on and explored properly in media and chickens out on all of it due to possible concerns with age-appropriate handling or because it was more committed to its comedy than whatever it has to say about family, change and how technology affects people.

It also reminded me that I hope media will finally graduate from the trope that if you spec into any ‘outdoorsy’ hobby you are incurably afraid of technology.

#the mitchells vs the machines #let me ramble to you #text post #hot takes probably

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tsu9live · 3 years

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Before I start, this is in no offence to anyone else’s opinion. You are all valid and probably make more sense than me. This is a bit of a rant and then a short character study.

Warning: This got too long.

I tend to come online for manga updates and ended up reading through opinion posts because I am a curious cat. Most of the time I come across really well-thought out posts, really valid points. But then MHA is also a soap opera/family drama where the main character is not supposed to have any progress in his story unless its to bolster or move along the other favs . But then they shouldn’t be bolstering his story either because why is a story about Deku’s journey all about Deku?

But then there are people who are happy Deku is finally edgy and they want him to wipe the floor with his classmates who love him and are willing to fight him if only to get through to him. So there are both extremes and honestly there is validity in all these thoughts because despite the writer’s intentions, a reader brings the story to life.

I personally hate making my own predictions because most of the time I feel it ruins the experience of reading a work for me. I go in with different expectations and when the story goes a different way I don’t enjoy it as much but I feel its more my fault.

So I do understand and respect the difference of opinion because there is no fandom without discourse.

In my opinion though, this Deku solo arc was a long time coming and I think Horikoshi has handled it really weird. I’m still trying to understand what he wants us to think about.

A story about heroes and putting your life on the line for someone else is controversial, but, I thought it was a given. Recklessness had been part of Deku’s character but an overly-cautious character would do nothing. Deku’s lack of self-preservation wasn’t unnatural for a hero, he rushed in to save Bakugo from the slime-villain when Pros stood by putting himself at risk but it spurred AM to act. Katsuki experienced it as well during the war arc, when his body moved to save Deku.

Going to Kamino to save Bakugo was suicidal, reckless and potentially flawed but story-wise it made sense. How is hero-work anything than risky? Kirishima and Todoroki initiated it.

Disclaimer: Deku, Bakugo, Uraraka, Momo, Toga and Shigaraki are characters that are very dear to me because they have had me extremely invested since the beginning of the story. This is my personal opinion, flaws, rant... basically me working through my feelings about this manga I had been obsessed with recently.

1) There is an opinion where Bakugo had a right to be upset/angry/bully Deku because he wanted to be a hero but did nothing for it. Firstly, I don’t understand the need to justify his behaviour when he himself has expressed regret on it. People want others to move on from the “go jump off the roof comment” but won’t stop talking about how everything about Bully Bakugo was justified. Deku was weaker, but he had the same dreams, dreams that were the basis of their friendship earlier on. Regardless of how Deku wanted to achieve them, Bakugo had no right to keep trying to stop him from doing so. No, 5, 10, 14 year old Bakugo did not do so because he had the brilliant foresight that Deku would be self-sacrificial and it was for his sake, he was an angry kid and Deku was a timid, wannabe that confused him, intimidated him even. Taking out his anger was a way of working through those feelings. He was in Deku’s words “a punching bag”. In a world where the powerful reign, Bakugo couldn’t understand how a quirk less, weak little boy could think he could stand shoulder to shoulder with someone as gifted as Bakugo. Yeah, society is very much to blame. The change and maturity Bakugo goes through where he is humbled by a cast of amazing hero students who are just as gifted yet with inspiring personalities and then traumatic consequences of being kidnapped, watching his hero use the last of his powers to hold back a great evil, having that fight with Deku where he bared himself open, failing the licensing exam, training with todoroki, the internship... the war has changed him in a way that has brought out his full potential as a hero and a person. There is a lot to admire about him yet I see so many people fixate on headcanons that glorify his every action/word instead of praising the amazing person he has become/how well written his growth has been.

2) “Deku wanted to be a hero and he did nothing for it”. “He could have been a quirkless hero like Batman.” Listen, the story is about AFO vs OFA first and foremost. Hori has done a good job of worldbuilding and adding a cast of interesting characters that its easy to forget what the main plot point of the story is. But it really is about a weak/timid boy who was born with a sort of handicap who dared to dream to be someone strong enough to have others rely on him instead. A lot of the times people want to become something they feel they needed, someone who gave people hope just by existing. Its natural for someone who is ‘considered useless’ to want to be the most useful person ever. His mother didn’t believe he could do it, Bakugo told him repeatedly he shouldn’t even try, everyone else made fun of him, and his hero gave him a wake-up call, no... you can’t be a hero without a quirk. Deku studied heroes and quirks all his life, hoping he’d find something that could work for his advantage. Not every hero relies on physical strength, their bodies are adapted to the nature of their quirks. Deku’s analysis, quick-thinking and impulsive nature is what helped him progress even after getting the quirk because he didn’t gain control until really late. People act like he was handed power, seem to forget he has just learned to use it without consequences. His studies of quirks also made him the best candidate to get new quirks, quirks that he has learned to utilise as tools quickly and efficiently. He was doing what he thought was going to help him become a hero without guidance, without backing and constant discouragements. Its admirable and relatable. If you don’t relate to him that’s fine, your life was different.

Batman was loaded. Deku is not an inventor. The Editors shot that idea down because it would not have survived in a genre where power fantasies are the main hooks. Aizawa, sure he’s training Shinso because he sees his potential now but he would have either expelled Deku/moved him to General studies on that first day for scoring the least in that test. He changed his mind not because of Deku’s quirk but because of Deku’s ingenuity.

When Deku did find his guidance, he tried to do years of work/training in a short period of time. He acknowledges how far behind he is, that the rest are leagues above him and all he wants is to be able to stand side by side with those incredible people and he would go to all lengths to do so. DEKU has never said he wants to be the number one hero. He always says he wants to be one so reliable he saves people with a smile and later on, he wants to be a hero that can save without having other people worry about him. Bakugo works hard, he’s not just exceptional he works hard for it, all of 1A do but saying Deku does nothing when he is constantly shown, studying, training his body, understanding his shortcomings and working on it is just petty. You don’t like him because of his saviour complex, newsflash, that is a hero thing. Hero course is about that, Deku’s is just highlighted because of how often he gets hurt. How can you be a Todoroki stan and hate Deku (although to be fair its your right, I’m just making a point), the kid saw Shouto and decided that it was more important for Shouto to stop hurting and gave him a hell of a fight. I still remember Shouto’s smile, it gave me goose bumps.

Deku’s lack of self-preservation is a part of his programming so much that he hasn’t noticed it yet. Deku broke his bones, but he didn’t realise the permanent damage. When Deku got injured with Muscular, he was never intending to fight him alone. He wanted backup, his phone was broken and he wanted to get Kouta out and tried but Muscular gave him no opening. He was driven into a corner and fought his way out. Like Aizawa said, “He got that injured because he has no intention of dying.” Before rushing to find Bakugo, he informed his superior first, knowing she can spread the message.

The fight with Stain, he messaged his location to all his classmates, didn’t intend to fight Stain alone, just defend Iida long enough for help to come along. Fight with overhaul, he just wanted to get Eri away and when he understood Eri’s power, he gave her the opportunity to fight back against her oppressor by teaming up with him, keeping her secure with the cape made out of Lemillion’s hair. During the whole fight he was present-minded enough to take the fight away from civilians and managed to prevent damage and casualties. During Natsuo’s rescue he played support.

During the war arc, he realised with despair that Shigaraki was coming in all his destructive glory for him and tried to stop him before but he didn’t object to Bakugo joining him. In the movie Heroes Rising (the initially planned ending) he willingly gave OFA to Bakugo, because he trusts him with his life, and was willing to be quirkless again if that’s what it took to keep the kids safe, and himself and Bakugo alive. Its mostly been good decisions on his part.

Its the war arc that’s been his downfall. Watching his childhood friend/rival almost die, his best friend, his mentors almost die while he could barely hold Shigaraki back set off a fight or flight response in him. The seriousness of how Shigaraki came for him and left such death and destruction in his wake because he was not strong enough and AFO is a monster and the sight of Shigaraki and the reality of his situation pushed him down the current path. His solo arc started well because constantly training in the field has helped him master his quirk, and he had the backup of the vestiges who trained and guided him in learning to use it as a toolset instead of a one-punch solution. Then coming face to face with the flaws of hero society and the power, manipulative nature and destructive intentions of AFO has prepared him emotionally. He is not acting like AM, he hasn’t in a while. He is acting like NANA and i don’t blame him because she’s in his head. No adult stopped him from doing this, instead using him as bait to lure out the league.

When they started realising he’s spiralling out of control, that’s when they realised they messed up.

He’s running on adrenaline/fumes alone and I think he’s actually terrified.

“AFO is OFA’s responsibility” “Tell the world I am here” “You’re not as strong as me yet,” “You are not a worthy successor”

Deku isn’t self-centered and but I agree with the screw loose comment (its years of “you are useless, not good enough, not worthy and I bet a dozen or so concussions, bloodloss, dehydration lol). I know Bakugo means well and that’s how he talks. At the moment, he’s probably the only one whose sole goal is Deku’s survival. Deku’s like a wild animal, terrified, lost and as always backed into a corner. AFO has him where he wants him and I am curious to see how class 1 A are going to get through to him. I don’t want them to fight, all those fanarts of Bakugo reaching his hand out to Deku and then maybe punching him in the face would have been a lot better then the mocking (the slow clap was a little triggering for me) but again maybe it just bothers me and Deku needs it. I’ll just have to wait and see. Deku and his class together would be an unstopabble force and I am waiting for that to finally happen.

P.S. Class 1 A looks so mature, everyone going crazy about Bakugo and his tie and I’m here like, look at baby Kirishima and his roots <3

I’m sorry if I gave anyone a headache lol.

#bnha spoilers #deku #personal rant #character study #midoriya izuku #bnha 319 #mha

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buckyskorpion · 4 years

Text

11 hours - part three

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: we got some spicy things happening this chapter folks!! a lot of natasha too and plot and a tiny bit of fluff at the end. i hope you enjoy!! let me know what you think. i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist

part one | part two

Mrs Shoreditch had agreed to meet you at the cafe you’d been inhabiting daily as you kept watch on Steve’s shop, and you’re waiting for her now at your usual table with unusual trepidation. Your leg is bouncing under the table, you’re darting looks left and right down the street trying to catch sight of her. You have to finish this job - seeing Bucky last night confirmed that. Looking into his friends and his life feels wrong, and you want to end it as soon as possible. It’s none of your business unless Bucky wants it to be.

She’s late, one o’clock ticking by and then some, anxiety hiking with every passing minute. The file on her husband sits unremarkable on the table in front of you, and you drum your fingers against it unconsciously. The sooner this meeting is over the sooner you can move on with your day, maybe go see your dad, take on some normal clients who don’t have eery connections to your personal life and keep you up at night.

Someone approaches the table and you’re about to feel relieved, until you look up and instead of seeing Mrs Shoreditch apologising for her tardiness you find Natasha standing before you. She blocks out the sun, a ring of red wisps escaping her ponytail lit up like a halo behind her head but the calculating look in her eyes is nowhere near angelic. She looks nothing like the girl you met at the party - gone is the sundress, replaced by an outfit weirdly similar to yours. Leather jacket, skinny jeans, Docs and chipped black nail polish you catch as she wiggles her fingers at you in that same, condescending wave.

“Natasha?” You can’t believe she’s caught you, but you’re technically not doing anything wrong right now - you just feel like you are, with the way she’s looking at you like a ‘gotcha’ moment not gone your way.

Natasha nods, smirking, and says, “What a coincidence.”

“Yeah,” you breathe, but you know neither of you believe it. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting Steve,” she says. It takes everything in you not to glance over at the tattoo shop, giving yourself away. You bite the inside of your cheek and keep your eyes trained on hers, furrowing your brows in an approximation of confusion. She waits a beat, you don’t think you’ve convinced her, but then she says, ”He works over there.”

She jerks a thumb to the tattoo shop and you nod, following her finger with bone-deep relief. It doesn’t last long, tension eating it’s way back up your spine as she asks, “What about you? I haven’t seen you here before.”

Been here every day, lady, you think, but say with a tap to the folder on the table, “Work. Meeting a client.”

“Oh?” she asks, an eyebrow raised. She doesn’t question you further, but that in itself is suspicious. Everyone always presses for more with your vague answers - client? For what? Announcing you’re a private investigator kind of ruins your confidential reputation so you often have to work a lot harder than this to keep your work life private. Natasha doesn’t press it, though. Like she already knows. Dread curls low and heavy in your gut.

At that moment, Mrs Shoreditch finally shows up. She doesn’t seem harried, out of breath, or concerned she’s late in any way, shape, or form. She takes the seat opposite you, offering you a smile and placing her ridiculously expensive handbag on the table. With blonde hair tossed over one shoulder, to your absolute horror she looks up to Natasha and smiles at her, too. Recognition, as Natasha returns it.

“You should come over to the shop when you’re done,” Natasha says to you but it sounds more like a demand than a request, shattering the silence with a sledgehammer. You’d miscalculated, somewhere. Something isn’t right.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say, making eye contact with Mrs Shoreditch and hoping Natasha understands. You hardly think Mrs Shoreditch would want you going in there after you reveal that’s the place her husband has been shovelling her money into for months. Mrs Shoreditch avoids your gaze, however, picking at her perfect manicure. It clicks, then. You’re so fucking stupid.

“See you in a minute,” Natasha says, ignoring what you said entirely with a sparkle in her eyes that doesn’t bode well for you. She crosses the street, gone in a second, and you turn back to Mrs Shoreditch as a numbness creeps into your veins.

She’s a typical socialite, perfectly up-kept in every aspect and dressed to the nines even for a rubbish cafe in Red Hook. You didn’t think she was capable of hoodwinking you, and maybe that’s where you first went wrong. She finally meets your eyes, apologetic and almost tearful. She reaches a hand out, resting it on the file you’d prepared as if she realises last minute trying to touch you is a bad fucking idea.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, “I’ve been wasting your time-“

“Natasha hired you to hire me,” you say, cutting her off with the coldness in your voice. She nods mutely, retracting her hand back to her lap as if burned. “You already knew about Mike’s other bank account.”

“Yes,” she admits, rolling her lips together. At least she has the decency to look ashamed. “Ms Romanoff said she’d pay off an instalment of Mike’s debt if I hired you, and I- I didn’t ask questions. I’m so sorry, you seem lovely-“

You don’t wait to hear her finish, standing from the table and leaving your useless file behind without a second glance. You head across the street, for the first time approaching the front door of the tattoo parlour. Natasha knew you’d come here eventually, knew you’d see Steve and start putting dots together. She baited you here, but why? You were Bucky’s fuck buddy, nothing more. Why play this game at all?

You take a deep breath before shouldering the door open, entering the permanent twilight of the shop you’d come to know so well through the lens of your camera. It’s cool in here, the street noise dampened so all you can hear is pop-punk playing low through speakers and the buzz of the tattoo gun. Steve is at the back, bent over someone’s arm and doesn’t break concentration when the bell above the door rings, announcing your entrance. Natasha waits, however, hip propped up against the counter and smiling as she sees you stop at the door, not daring to enter further.

“What do you want?” you ask, calling out across the shop. It draws the attention of the two guys in leather, Steve’s regulars, sitting on the couch in the waiting area. They eye you suspiciously, as does the kid who mans the cash register you often see doing homework instead of his job. Natasha pushes off the counter, beckoning you to the back of the store where you know Steve’s office to be. You follow, heart in your mouth, aware you’re walking further into the trap you hadn’t even known had been set for you.

Natasha closes the door behind you and takes a seat at the desk, covered in stencil designs and files which she seems to entirely disregard as she crosses her feet on top of them, dirt smears be damned. You sit in the chair opposite, back ramrod straight with how uncomfortable you are, and wait for an answer.

“You’re smart,” she says, which is not what you were expecting. You blink, confused by the compliment, and Natasha smirks. “And a lot more observant than Bucky gives you credit for.”

“It’s my job,” you say, unsure of what to give away. Obviously she knows you’re a private investigator or you wouldn’t be in this mess, but she doesn’t know what you know. Not yet, anyway.

“I know,” she says, inclining her head, “I googled you.”

That makes you uncomfortable. Bucky doesn’t even know your last name, how does she? All that she would’ve found is your business website because you’re not stupid enough to put your life online, but still, the thought that she had been trying to look into you makes your blood run cold. You’re starting to really regret going to that party with Bucky - if Natasha’s weird behaviour then wasn’t a tip off, then your deep-dive into their secret lives has clearly shown you there’s a lot more to Bucky than he was ever intending of letting on. Natasha’s intervention in your job merely confirms what you’d already figured out.

“Why did you get Mrs Shoreditch to hire me?” you ask. Natasha regards you for a second, thinking, and it’s a look that reminds you eerily of Bucky.

“I wanted to see what you’d find,” she says. You feel your jaw clench, despite yourself - she’s being evasive even now, and it’s like she can read your frustration because she smiles then, says, “And I wanted to see if Bucky’s choice to trust you was a wise one.”

“He doesn’t trust me,” you say, defensive, too quick. She raises her eyebrows. Frustrated at this cryptic and frankly dramatic conversation, you ask, “Can you just tell me what you want? You’ve wasted weeks of my time and I think I deserve to know why.”

“As I said,” Natasha said slowly, clearly amused at the rise she’s managed to get out of you, “I want to see what you found.”

“Are you going to pay for it?” you snap. You don’t want to tell her - you don’t know why. Clearly, she already knows far more than you ever will, but this is the only thing you have over her and it feels like the most important thing in the world in this moment.

Natasha rolls her eyes and says, “You’ll be well compensated, don’t worry.”

You have a small stare off with the red head before you huff, conceding. That was a fight you were destined to lose, anyway. You grab your laptop from your bag and send a quick email of everything you’d collected to Steve’s business email. His monitor pings with a notification and and you raise your eyebrows towards it, watching Natasha unfold her legs off the desk and lean forward to start reading. You don’t trust her with your laptop as far as you can throw it, so you make sure it’s shut down completely before placing it back in your bag.

Natasha reads for a long time, because you’d found a lot. Her eyes dart across the screen almost too-fast, the set of her mouth growing tenser and tenser as each silent minute passes. You feel a weird, sick sense of satisfaction at that - clearly, you’d surpassed her expectations.

You had been thorough. Pictures of Steve, the kid working the counter, the regulars who park their bikes at the back, the bikes themselves, the inside of the shop from your window vantage point, Sam at one point, Natasha at others, meetings they held and rough angles of deals gone on inside the shop. You couldn’t get a clear shot, but you saw them exchanging money with leather-clad strangers for something. The long hours after closing they spend at the tattoo shop doing everything but tattooing is all captured and saved on your computer. You’d written up a run-sheet of the shop’s routines as well, based on what you’d observed from your little cafe spot - Natasha spends longer looking at that then anything else, mouse hovering over the word you’d written at the bottom. Gang?

You’d researched them all, except for Bucky. He never appeared at the shop while you were watching it, and it gave you the perfect out to leave him alone in your investigation. Steve and Sam had wrap sheets longer than your arm, and Natasha notably had nothing online at all. None of them had social media, which is weird, and the only photo you could find dated back to a highschool cross country picture of Steve and Sam, first and second medals respectively. You refused to look for Bucky. It made you sick just thinking about what you’d find on him, so you decided you just didn’t want to know. Not like that, behind a computer screen in your apartment with a bottle of red-wine half gone beside you. Bucky doesn’t belong there.

You could have kept digging, given more time. It had been eating at you, though, consuming the hours you were supposed to be sleeping and waking you up when you finally closed your eyes. It didn’t matter how much you found, ten more questions would arise from it, and you were becoming obsessed. So you decided to end it. Clearly, you’d come to that conclusion a bit too late.

“Bucky doesn’t know your last name,” Natasha says, suddenly, shocking you enough to flinch. She doesn’t look away from the screen, but goes on, “He doesn’t know you’re a PI, where you live, what you do in your spare time. He knows noting about you, but he doesn’t seem to care. I told him that was stupid.”

You swallow past the hard lump in your throat. You knew Natasha hadn’t exactly warmed to you at that party but you hadn’t expected this level of- what would you even call it? A threat? You feel threatened, a metaphorical knife to your throat as Natasha finally looks at you again, pinning you down with a cold green stare.

“He’s not in any of this,” she says, tapping a fingernail on the keyboard to emphasis your research. It’s not a question, but you know what she’s asking.

“I wasn’t hired to look into Bucky,” you say, refraining from adding because I have self control and I don’t need to invade his privacy to have sex with him. “Anything I need to know, I can get from him.”

Natasha is silent for a long time, staring at you, and you don’t dare look away. This, too, is a test. After god-knows how much time has passed, she stands and you do too, hurrying to grab your bag and meet her at the office door she holds open for you. Conversation over, you suppose - you’re starting to get used to Natasha’s cryptic ways even if they piss you off beyond belief.

“Delete everything you just sent me,” she says. You scoff, rolling your eyes at her, but she stares you down with the darkest, scariest look you’ve ever received from someone who’s a head shorter than you. You think about that word you’d written in your notes, gang, after one too many red wines and thinking back to the way Natasha looked at you when you described them all as a family. Maybe you shouldn’t argue with her, given everything you’d experienced today.

“I’d cover that window if I were you,” you say, instead of answering. A muscle ticks in her jaw but she says nothing else, so you take your leave. Steve waves awkwardly as you go but you ignore him, shouldering out of the shop and practically running down the street.

Energy burns in your muscles that you can’t seem to get rid of, even as you chose to walk all the way back to your apartment which takes over an hour. It’s anger, you realise, fisting your hair and pacing around your apartment like a crazy person. Uncontrollable rage at being played with, tested at every turn, and for what? You never asked to be a part of this game. You’d never done anything but exactly what Bucky asked and it still wasn’t enough.

Your phone begins to ring, Bucky’s name flashing across the screen, and with a scream of pure frustration you throw it full-force into the nearest wall. It makes a dent in the drywall, falls to the ground and the impact shatters the screen but that won’t stop it vibrating uselessly against the floorboards as Bucky rings and rings and rings.

You won’t pick up. This time, or ever again. And not just because you’ve now fucked your phone beyond repair, either. You never asked to play this game, so now you’ll take yourself out of it.

***

This is exactly why you keep yourself so guarded - cutting people out is easy when they have nothing to hold onto. You change your phone number when you go to get it fixed, and it’s like Bucky never even existed. He doesn’t know where you work, where you live, and you don’t go back to any of the bars you went to with him. It’s easier than breathing to remove him from your life.

The same cannot be said about removing Bucky from you.

He’d crawled inside your ribcage and stayed there, burnt a cigarette hole in your heart to claim it as his and you hate that. You never allowed him to do that. So he might not be physically in your life anymore but he’s still there, a ghost of a hand on your throat and an ache that might mean you miss him.

His friends are crazy and he’s in a gang, you tell yourself daily, like it’ll help. Like you believe it even slightly. It’s better this way.

“You’re quiet, kroshka,” you dad says, handing you a cup of tea. You remove your thumb from your mouth where you’d been gnawing at a hangnail to take it, smiling up at him in thanks. He doesn’t go back to his armchair, though, rather kicking a cushion off the couch to sit beside you. You dip with his added weight, closer to him, and he allows you to rest your head on his shoulder while you both blow on your teas in unintentional tandem.

“Kroshka is tired,” you mumble. He clicks his tongue at you, which is fair. Shit excuse, anyway. You sit up, twisting to face him, and ask, “How do I know if I’m overreacting to something?”

“With you, overreacting is baseline,” your dad says, grinning as you slap him on the arm. He takes a sip of tea and says, “Tell me.”

“No,” you say, aware you’re being a brat, but what are you going to say? This woman tricked me and she’s smarter than me so I cut the guy I like out of my life because I can’t let anyone in or I feel like I’m going to die? Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue.

“Well,” he says, giving you an unimpressed look, “If you’re questioning whether you’re overreacting, I would say there might be some truth to the feeling. It’s not like you to be unsure, though. Are you sure everything’s ok?”

“Yes, papa,” you sigh, going back to leaning on his shoulder. He might have a point. “You’ve just raised an idiot.”

“I did no such thing,” he says, placing his tea on the side table to pull you into a hug. You feel small, like you’re a little girl again, and you close your eyes against your father’s chest. Maybe you can just stay here and forget about the mess you’ve made of your life. He rubs circles into your back and says, “You’ll figure it out.”

“Ya lyublyu tebya, luna,” you say softly. I love you, moon. You’ve been saying this since before you can remember, your dad whispering it into your hair when he tucked you in at night or you calling across the playground when he’d drop you off at school. In your secret language so no one else knows, a message just for him - from you to your entire world.

“Lyublyu tetbya bol’she, zvedzdy,” he responds, kissing your hair. Love you more, stars.

He sends you off with a bag of donut holes, an obvious reminder you’re both not actually Russian but New Yorker to the bone, and you eat two on the subway ride home while you think. Deleting Bucky from your life is instinct, protection - he’d gotten too close. But really, when you allow yourself to examine the tight knot of feelings sitting in the base of your throat, what’s making you run is guilt.

You crossed a line, investigating his friends. You pried into the life he very purposefully kept you away from and you’d changed your number not because you didn’t want Bucky contacting you anymore, but because he might decide not to and you couldn’t live with watching your phone for a notification that would never come. Natasha will have told him everything by now, probably even showed him, and he’ll never trust you now. You’d blown it. You could be angry at Natasha for baiting you into doing it, but she never would have felt the need to if you had just been honest.

You stuff another donut hole in your mouth to stop yourself from crying. It works only a little bit.

The apartment feels colder, lonelier than it ever has even though being alone was what you thought you wanted. It just allows you to think of Bucky some more, curled up on your couch with the bag of donut holes now empty on the coffee table, sniffling into the sleeve of your hoodie. His smell, the way he always runs hot, the callouses on his hands probably from working in his garage you’ll never get to see now. Stubble, short-shaven hair, tattoos all down his left arm you never gave proper attention to. You can’t remember them all. Just the star, red and big in the middle of his deltoid. You thought you had more time.

“Fuck it,” you say, fishing your phone out of your jeans pocket. Bucky might not have your number anymore but you have his. Maybe if you just called him and heard his voice for a second, just that rumbly ‘hello,’ it might scratch the itch driving you insane. Before you can dial though, you get a notification from your banking app - a deposit from a new contact.

Natasha Romanoff jumps out at you, stopping your heart in your chest. Does she have a sixth sense for any time you so much as think about Bucky? She’s transferred you an obscene amount of money, and it takes you far too long to realise she’s paying you for the Shoreditch case that turned out to be one giant trust test you spectacularly failed. The reason you’re being a pathetic mess alone in your apartment pining over a guy who, as Natasha said herself, doesn’t even know your last name. Get a grip, Jesus Christ.

You open up the notification just to check it’s real and she really did triple the quote you’d given Mrs Shoreditch. That’s when you read what she’s written as the name of the transaction - an address for somewhere in Queens. You should probably at least think about jumping up, grabbing your jacket and practically sprinting from your apartment to an address sent to you by someone you’re 99% sure is part of a biker gang, but you don’t. You have a pretty good idea of what that address means, and curiosity is your biggest vice. Natasha’s sending you a cryptic message and you might not quite understand what it means just yet, but you’re certainly not going to ignore it.

Half an hour later you’re standing across the street from White Wolf Mechanics, hiding in the gaps between street lights and watching Bucky fix up a motorbike. The three huge roller doors are all open, letting light spill out onto the street as well as the thump of a baseline from a song you recognise, because you showed him it. Natasha sits on the work bench cross legged, scrolling on her phone and occasionally handing Bucky tools as he asks for them. He stands, wipes his hands on his skintight black t-shirt and says something into the depth of the shop. Sam appears, grinning wide and tossing a greasy rag at Bucky’s head which he catches easily.

He seems well, and that makes you happy. It’s only been a couple of days since you last saw him but it might as well have been months from how much you’ve spiralled. He might not have even noticed you’d separated yourself from him, and that thought makes you sick. You should go. You need to go. But your feet carry you across the street, jogging into the shadows so they don’t see you. You’ll hear his voice and then you’ll go.

You linger by the farthest roller door from them, sticking outside the pool of light and half-hiding behind the wall of the shop. You can still see them, though, Bucky’s face now turned towards you as he learns over the bike. Brow furrowed in concentration, and you want to smooth out the dent between them with your thumb but that’s not for you anymore. It never was.

“Have you talked Sam about it?” Natasha asks Bucky. You watch him glare at the part he’s holding in his hands and his whole body stiffens. He keeps his back to Natasha so you can see the anger play across his face clear as day.

“What’s there to tell?” he snaps. “You’ve taken care of everything, fuck what I want, so what’s the point?”

“Cut it out, James,” Natasha snaps back, “You know I was protecting you.”

“When did I ask,” Bucky grits out through a clenched jaw, throwing the part to the ground so the clang of metal on stone echoes out onto the empty street, making you jump. He balls his fists up at his sides and says, “You were out of line.”

“I’m sorry,” Natasha says evenly. She unfolds herself from the table with an unfair amount of grace and steps behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Bucky sighs, shoulders curling in and tension leaking out of his body. You want to hug him, but you will yourself to stay where you are.

Eventually, Bucky shrugs off Natasha’s touch and says, like a moody teenager, “Whatever.” Natasha rolls her eyes, watching him go back to work on the bike with a bit too much aggression that is strictly necessary. She hands him the part he threw silently, and it takes him a beat to unclench his fists and take it. A peace offering, you suppose, in Natasha’s strange language. She doesn’t go back to the workbench, rather staying by Bucky’s side despite his annoyed grumble.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, she says, “You proved me wrong, and I’m not too proud to realise that. I am sorry.”

Bucky looks up at her, as confused as you feel because where the fuck did that come from, and says, “Proved you- have you completely lost it?”

But Natasha isn’t look at him anymore. She’s looking at you.

Busted, you think, and you consider turning around and running before Bucky can see you. It’s a bit late for that, though, so you step into the light of the shop and halfheartedly return Natasha’s welcoming grin. It takes Bucky a second, snapping his fingers in front of Natasha’s face like he’s worried she’s actually gone in insane before he follows her eyeline and lands on you.

You’ve never seen Bucky shocked before, but he looks it now as for the second time the spare part he’s holding hits concrete with an ear-grating clang. You flinch at the sound despite yourself, and that seems to shock Bucky back into action. He whips around to glare at Natasha, pointing at you as he does.

“What did you do,” he demands. Maybe coming here really was a bad idea after all.

Natasha, ignoring Bucky completely, walks over to hold out her hand for you to shake. I’m lost, you think, as she says, “Let’s start again. I’m Natasha, James is the only family I have and I’m neurotically protective of him. He’s right to trust you, as much as it pains me to say I’m sorry for meddling in your relationship.”

You don’t take her hand. You’re not entirely sure you want to forgive her just yet, even if she did extend the olive branch to get you here. You fold your arms over your chest and say, “Next time, if you want to know something about me, just ask.”

She quirks an eyebrow at you, retracting her hand back to her side and you hate the way she always seems to be laughing at you. Natasha ducks her head, smirks, and disappears into some back office without another word. It’s just you and Bucky, the body of a bike between you as well as the weight of all the things you never said that’s all out in the open now. You’re looking at each other like you never have before, eyes open to the vast chasm of secrets you’ve both been keeping, and for the first time since you met Bucky you keep your distance.

“So,” he says, folding this arms over his giant chest. Not fair, you think, as his biceps flex against the tight sleeve of his t-shirt. Bucky averts his eyes to somewhere beyond your head and says, “You’re a private investigator.”

“You’re in a biker gang,” you reply, mimicking his folded-arms tight-lipped expression. He raises his eyebrows in a silent touché, and now that it’s out in the open you feel something inside you break off, slide down the tense hunch of your shoulders until you feel weightless. You should want to lock up tight, keep Bucky out because he’s gotten far too close already - you should use this blight as an escape. Somehow, though, having Bucky see you like no one else really has doesn’t feel as scary as you thought it would. Maybe because you have something of him, too, tucked against your head and healing that metaphorical cigarette burn. A secret for a secret. You can work with that.

“You changed your number,” Bucky says, and he’s walking over to you now. Guard dropped, hands by his sides, pinning you in place with his eyes on yours for the first time in what feels like centuries.

“I was scared,” you say, coming out more like a breath than a sentence, too transfixed with Bucky being so close to you when you never thought you’d get this again. He smells like car oil and sweat, but you’ll take any gross combination over nothing at all. He places his greasy hands either side of your neck, pulling you closer so practically standing between his legs.

“You know,” Bucky says, rubbing his thumb over the protrusion of your collarbone like he’s trying to turn your brain and legs into jelly, “Nat doesn’t have a high opinion of a lot of people. She means a lot to me.”

“She’s terrifying,” you say, and Bucky throws his head back in a laugh that has you grinning like an idiot. That sound settles warm in the pit of your stomach, spreading through all the dirty guilt and fear you’d been living in for the past few days. Biting your lip as you sober slightly, you say, “I’m sorry for prying, I should’ve just-“

“Don’t,” Bucky says, stern, shutting you up pretty effectively. “I’m sorry Nat is a nosy bitch-“

“Hey!” Natasha’s voice comes from the back office, startling you both into laughing even as Bucky turns to face the door with a murderous glare on his face.

“Don’t you have anything better to do!” Bucky yells, voice thundering through the echoey garage. He waits few beats for absolute silence, neither of you convinced Natasha had actually left, but it’s the best you’re going to get. He turns back to you, small smile on his face so at odds with how rough and messy he looks. Hulking muscle and scars and tattoos and you should be cautious, should be running, shouldn’t be letting him back you up until you hit the wall and he can pin you there with his hips pressed into yours.

But you’ve never been one to ignore something as intriguing and mysterious as Bucky Barnes, no matter how dangerous it might be. Bucky slides one hand up from your neck to splay across your jaw, fingers pressing almost too tight into the soft skin, and you should run from this, too. A reminder, a promise, a warning. You let him.

“Are we even?” Bucky asks, mumbled into the minuscule space between you. You can’t find your voice so you just nod, and Bucky cocks his head to the side as he asks, “You can still leave, y’know. I’ll understand.”

“No way,” you say with a vigorous shake of your head, probably too quickly if Bucky’s amused smirk is anything to go by. You shut him up real quick with a roll of your hips into his, watching with a sense of victory as his expression darkens and he tightens his grip on you. You say, eyebrows raised, “I’ve still got way too many questions.”

“Like what?” Bucky asks, but he’s not got his full attention on what you’re saying anymore, too busy using his grip on your jaw to tug your head to the side and kiss up your neck, warm and open-mouthed with just a bit of teeth.

You nod your head towards the bike he was fixing before, drawing his attention for a second as he flicks his eyes in its direction before resuming his trail of bruising kisses. A bit breathy maybe, you say, “Ever fucked someone on a motorbike before?”

“Absolutely not!” you hear a male voice practically scream, and soon enough Sam is practically running out of the back office with a smirking Natasha on his tail. “This is our place of work! It’s sacred!”

“Go home, Sam,” Bucky says into your skin, still loud enough for them to hear but he doesn’t get off you. You’re blushing, making eye contact with Bucky’s friends and wishing the ground will swallow you whole but Bucky just digs his teeth into the crook of your jaw and grins as he watches your eyes flutter shut. This mixture of embarrassment and unadulterated horniness is making your brain short-circuit.

“My eyes!” Sam cries as Natasha grabs him by the wrist and drags him from the garage. Not without a wink sent your way, and you’ll find time to be humiliated by that later. Right now, you’ve got Bucky’s mouth on yours to contend with and it’s going to take all of your attention.

Part 4

~~~

let me know what yall think of this part!! THANK YOU

#bucky barnse x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader fic #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #biker!bucky #biker!bucky au #11 hours #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #reader insert fic #pov fic #pov #avengers au

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Midnight Mass Ending Explained

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This article contains spoilers for Midnight Mass.

Ending a horror story is hard.

Perhaps no one knows that better than Mike Flanagan, the writer-director behind horror hits like Doctor Sleep, The Haunting of Hill House, and The Haunting of Bly Manor. After observing the occasional less-than-enthusiastic reaction to the endings of some of his other projects, Flanagan decided to end his latest, Netflix series Midnight Mass, on his own terms.

“I didn’t want to come up with an ending that I thought would please people,” Flanagan told Den of Geek and other outlets prior to Midnight Mass’s premiere. “I wanted to come up with the ending that would have the most to say down the line.”

So what, exactly, does the ending of Midnight Mass have to say? Let’s explain just what goes down in the conclusion of Midnight Mass and assess what it all means.

What’s Up with Mildred Gunning and John Pruitt?

Monsignor John Pruitt a.k.a. Father Paul (Hamish Linklater) was, by all indications, a good Christian man.

“The thing we kept coming back to is that authentically, through-and-through evil people are very rare. We’re all way more complicated. The humanity of Father Paul was something that was baked in relatively early,” Flanagan says.

Though Pruitt is not a bad man, per se, he is a deeply flawed one. A long time ago, before the “war” (probably World War II or The Korean War), Pruitt hooked up with the married Mildred Gunning and fathered their daughter Sarah Gunning out of wedlock. That is obviously a big no-no for a priest and Pruitt lived with the guilt of denying his daughter for decades.

Pruitt finally got a chance to alleviate that guilt when he came across a curious creature in Damascus. In this fictional universe where the concept of a vampire is clearly not well known, John Pruitt made the understandable mistake of confusing a monstrous vampire for an equally monstrous angel. After all, the angels of the bible are so visually terrifying that they make a habit of telling those they visit “be not afraid.”

Pruitt thought this angel had granted him the gift of eternal life, just like the Bible promises. He then decides to share that gift with his congregation. The priest’s major sin here though is pride. He didn’t share the angel’s gift with his congregation out of pure benevolence. He did it because he wanted many more years of life in his prime with Mildred and Sarah at his side. Catholicism means everything to Pruitt. And yet, he would cast it all aside for another chance to have the family he wanted.

“If you showed up and asked me, I would have taken this collar off and gone with you. Gone with you anywhere in the world,” Pruitt tells Mildred after she’s been vampirified.

That’s a touching sentiment from the artist formerly known as Father Paul but it’s unfortunately a destructive one.

“When it became clear that Paul could do bad things with pure motives, the show came into clearer focus. There’s only one character in the whole show who I think is evil and it’s not Father Paul,” Flanagan says.

Only one character who is evil? Who could Flanagan be referr….ohhh.

What Were the Vampires’ Plans?

Flanagan actually never confirms which character he sees as evil, but Bev Keane (Samantha Sloyan) seems to be the best fit…unless we count the angel, and he just seems to be a hungry, growing boy.

Bev is, let’s say, a real piece of work. As beautifully depicted by Sloyan, Bev Keane is the officious church lady who can’t keep her nose out of other people’s business. After Mildred talks some sense into John Pruitt, he understands that he and his congregation “are the wolves” and refuses to participate further. That leaves a power vacuum at the top, which Bev is more than happy to step into.

Why Midnight Mass is Mike Flanagan’s Most Personal Work

By Alec Bojalad

Midnight Mass Cast: Previous Credits From Hill House to Bly Manor, Legion & Sherlock

By Louisa Mellor

Now that Bev has a veritable army of superpowered vampires what does she intend to do with them? The same thing that all Bevs want to do: make more Bevs. Bev represents the worst of colonial Christianity and its historical penchant for converting all to its kingdom of heaven…through any means necessary.

When Erin Greene (Kate Siegel) finds out that Bev and friends have merely disabled the boats and not destroyed them, she realizes that their ultimate plan is to eventually take their vampire party to the mainland and create a whole planet of enlightened Christians who just happy to have an insatiable taste for blood and a severe UV-ray allergy.

What Happens to Crockett Island?

Thankfully, Bev’s ultimate goal never comes to pass thanks to the careful plotting of the handful of human beings left in Crockett Island. Erin Greene, Sarah Gunning (Annabeth Gish), Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli), and Annie Flynn (Kirstin Lehman) get to work on finishing the destruction that Bev started.

Ironically, it’s part of Bev’s plan that eventually dooms her and her kind. When one of Bev’s lackeys proposes putting out a fire that the human crew started because the whole island could burn to nothing like in ‘84, Bev’s eyes light up.

“I mean…the church didn’t burn in ‘84,” she says.

Surely this is Revelation. And Revelation means a hale mixed with fire and blood. There will be a flood of fire that ends the world and St. Patrick’s church will be the arc. That’s a great plan and all…as long as something doesn’t happen to the arc.

Welp. Sarah Gunning burns down St. Patrick’s and Sheriff Hassan and Erin Greene (with an assist from Hassan’s son) burn down the rec center. As if burning a church designated as an arc wasn’t symbolically compelling enough, recall that the rec center next to it is equally as symbolic of Bev’s greed. It was Bev who convinced Crockett Island to take the oil company’s money for ruining their island rather than pursuing litigation. And all they got out of that settlement money was that stupid rec center.

With the church and the rec center gone, there are no man-made structures for the vampires to hide from the sun in the coming morning. And that’s how an entire island of 120-ish vampires perishes simultaneously when the sun rises.

Why Do Leeza and Warren Survive?

All of Crockett Island perishes save for two actually. Warren Flynn (Igby Rigney) and Leeza Scarborough (Annarah Cymone) are spared thanks to some quick thinking. Putting the only two remaining non-vampirized children in harm’s way is not an option for Erin, Sarah, Hassan, and Annie. Thankfully, Warren knows of one secret canoe to reach the “Uppards” that Bev’s crew wouldn’t know about.

The canoe doesn’t take Warren and Leeza to the mainland but it does get them away from the carnage to come. The last shot of the series is Warren and Leeza floating peacefully and Leeza announcing that she can no longer feel her legs. This means that the last bit of “angel” blood has likely left her system and with it Pruitt’s vampire legacy is over.

Saving Warren and Leeza has practical, emotional implications for Midnight Mass’s characters but it also has some symbolic ones as well. The concept of witnessing and witnesses themselves are very important in the Bible. As a second-hand text (though purportedly with every word inspired by God) there would be no gospel without witnesses. Good news is only half the battle. Someone to witness and report on the good news is the other half. Now Warren and Leeza can report on the ultimate good news that the world is saved.

The fact that the kids survive while the adults succumb to their own adult nonsense has some major implications for Midnight Mass’s creator

“That last moment of the next generation looking out at the ashes of what the grown ups made – that’s what my kids are gonna get no matter what,” Flanagan says. “That’s what all of our kids are gonna get. I wish it wasn’t as on fire as it it. But it really is. We’re never going to be able to explain adequately to our children what happened to the planet they inherited.”

What Happens to the Angel?

With all of Crockett Island burned to the ground, the world’s vampire nightmare is over, right? Well that depends on how well you think an angel can fly with torn wings. No, that’s not an aphorism or a poem, it’s the real question facing the end of Midnight Mass.

As if saving Warren and Leeza and upending Bev Keane’s plans weren’t enough, Erin leaves one last little gift for humanity before she dies. While the angel attacks her and drinks her sweet, sweet blood, Erin begins systematically, yet carefully cutting holes in its leathery wings. At first the angel is kind of annoyed but his hunger supersedes any level of discomfort or pain he’s feeling.

Later on, while Warren and Leeza watch their home burn they see the angel flying away but in a halted, loopy pattern. The kids aren’t sure if the beast will have time to find shelter before the sun rises. According to Flanagan, if Midnight Mass is a parable (and he assures us it is) then the ultimate lesson of all this isn’t too hard to glean.

“The angel doesn’t represent vampirism or horror but corruption in any belief system,” he says. “It represents fundamentalism and fanaticism. That’s never gonna go away. You might chase it away from your community for a minute. You might send it off to the sunrise and hope that that corrupting ideology will disappear. But it won’t. And the show could never show the angel die for that reason.”

With that in mind, the angel’s flawed flight pattern isn’t so much Inception’s spinning top but rather a promise that evil will find a way. And then we puny human beings will just have to find a way to stop it all over again. If that’s not Biblical then we don’t know what is.

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All seven episodes of Midnight Mass are available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Midnight Mass Ending Explained appeared first on Den of Geek.

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bangtanfancamp · 4 years

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Into the Garden (JJK)

∴ masterlist

∴ series masterlist (part one of 2 )

∴ pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader

∴ word count: 5k

∴ rating: pg-13

∴ genre: fluff, romance, strangers to lovers, dinner theater au? Lol

∴ warnings: none to speak of, eventual affection? sexual tension? Probable future make out sesh

∴ summary: It’s a Friday night out with your friends— a perfect opportunity to try out that mysterious new restaurant everybody’s talking about. Always game for new things and a good time, even you never expected to stumble upon the smart, incredibly handsome waiter you meet there who knows his flowers. Who knows where the night will take you now?

∴ vibey playlist that kept me company during writing

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“God, this place is gorgeous.” You gasped.

You felt yourself go still once you’d finally managed to push the heavy wooden doors open. Was it unreasonable to wish you lived in a restaurant if it looked like this? Because it was beautiful in here. Every corner was immaculately decorated- rich, emerald velvet in the waiting area, cognac wood floors, industrial light fixtures… each element carefully designed, but aged and warm, like maybe this place had been here forever, and you’d only just noticed it.

And the plants- there were plants everywhere, on every available surface. Shades of green wrapping and weaving around iron railing. Ivy crawling up the side of the exposed brick like nature was trying to take this luxurious place back for itself. You’d never seen anything quite like it.

This place was all anyone could talk about lately, but you’d never seen it first hand until tonight. It had been your coworker’s bright idea to get a bunch of the staff together and blow off some steam here this Friday night. She’d even wiggled her way into getting the company to pay for it by calling it a “team building experience,” a.k.a “let’s all get drunk together and moan about our problems on the boss’s dime.” You’d be skipping the alcohol tonight, but this place was a million years beyond your “guac at chipotle is a treat” personal budget and there was no way you were going to miss out on a free dinner here.

So far, no regrets as you wandered across the hardwood. You hadn’t even eaten any of the food yet, but it was already your new favorite place in the city on decor alone. And on top of that, you had something else to look forward to. Apparently, the hook here — not that it really needed one— was an upscale version of dinner and a mystery. You wondered how that was supposed to fit with this whole industrial utopia theme.

You hadn’t been to a restaurant that did a show with dinner since you saw Cinderella at a children’s dinner theater in eighth grade, but the shabby, primary colored castles of your memory clashed distinctly with the elegance of this place. The gaping imbalance made you chuckle. Sherlock dinner theater and artisanal hand glazed pottery seemed like an odd mix to you, but you were intrigued nonetheless, knowing you’d have fun whether the plot was brilliant or not.

After gawking an appropriate amount of time in the foyer, you realized you should probably check in for your group since you’d arrived first. Gliding through the Garden in search of the hostess booth, you found it hidden away beneath the shade of an almost prehistorically large fiddle leaf fig tree. You smiled up at the gargantuan plant, fingers tracing the edge of a leaf. If the millennial garden of Eden interior of the place hadn’t already been an indication, this alone reinforced what a miracle worker their main gardener must be.

Every fiddle leaf fig you’d ever owned had died many a gruesome death long before it ever even reached two feet, but this one almost brushed the exposed ceiling beams. You wished you could ask whoever was in charge here for some pointers, but they’d probably smell your plant mom failures on you from a mile away and decide not to waste their time. Plants just never seemed to like you back the way you loved them… oh well. That’s what plastic is for, you supposed.

Getting back to the task at hand, you leaned up on your toes to look for assistance, quickly noticing that the station was empty. Maybe they’re busy watering the crops, you chuckled to yourself wondering if this place really was pretentious enough to grow their own inventory-they certainly could- when you were suddenly greeted by the most stunningly handsome boy you’d ever seen.

“Hello, welcome to the Garden.” The living, breathing Adonis statue could speak apparently. You tried not to stare as he smiled back at you politely, his silky curls shagging about his face as he slid behind the hostess booth. Holy crap. Did they grow him in the back too?

He was beautiful- some undiscovered demigod with broad shoulders and a jawline so strong it could cut glass. He lifted his eyebrows pleasantly, waiting to assist. “I apologize for the wait—how may I be of service this evening?”

You couldn’t help the silly grin that spilled across your face when his wide chocolate eyes smiled your way.

“Um, Hi. I need a table for, lets see… 1,2,3,4...10 people I think?” You counted unashamedly on your fingers as the host’s lips quirked into a smile. “Oh! Actually, you know what? What am I doing—do you guys take reservations? My friend Beth might have called about us earlier?”

“Let me see…” The boy’s amused doe eyes drifted over a computer screen. You fiddled with the edges of a particularly plump succulent on the counter as you waited. “Here it is. Beth party of 10. Now usually when we have a group that big, we do offer the option of one of our private rooms. You guys would have your own separate narrative from whatever the main restaurant is doing….Would you be interested in that this evening?”

“Sure! Why not—that sounds amazing!” You answered, a bit too enthusiastically admittedly, but when his face lit up at your bubbliness, you found you couldn’t be bothered to feel embarrassed. Not when a boy who looked like that was looking at you that way, all soft around the edges. Will you be there? you wondered.

“Okay, then you’ll come right this way. Oh! And you’ll need this.” Dipping into a crystal bowl behind the counter, he fished out a crisp white piece of paper and slipped it into your hand, fingers brushing over yours as he did.

Something in your belly reacted sharply to the contact. Apparently, the electric crackle affected him too. His already round eyes widened, a nervous chuckle tumbling from his lips as your cheeks blossomed a warm, soft pink.

Suddenly, a ruckus erupted behind you, crashing into the tranquil silence. You turned over your shoulder to see your friends piling in the tall front door, laughing and smiling widely at you.

Tearing his eyes away from you with a self conscious gulp, the host cleared his throat before leading you all back past fountains, lush greenery and elaborate floral installations into yet another beautiful space. This room was just as intricate as the rest of the restaurant, with its warm terra cotta-colored walls dripping with ivy and orchids, lit with the dappled light of melting pillared candles piled atop the elaborate raw wood table spanning the length of the room.

As everyone happily clamored to find a seat along the banquet table, you noticed your friend, Erik, crashing along its opposite edge. Erik had been a football player in college, some defensive position you didn’t know the title of. He was a mammoth of a man, his blonde Nordic hair making him look like an off brand, out of shapeThor.

He paid little to no attention to where he threw his weight around like a puppy who didn’t yet know his size. So when he dropped himself onto the neatly slatted bench (gosh, every detail here was dripping in aesthetics) and promptly leaned against the wall, crushing the intricate orchid display, you couldn’t help but laugh. You heard the host’s strangled gasp and giggled at the beautiful boy's wide eyes as his horror-stricken face went pale across the room. Before he seemed to realize he was even doing it, his feet began to march across the floor to say something to your friend, until his politeness overtook him and he froze a few feet away. He grumbled to himself as your friend carelessly peeled himself off of the bench, annoyed complaining about something scratchy digging into his back. The host was positively fuming as irritation ticked in his jaw, but His big brown eyes betrayed his disappointment and downright bewilderment as the bedraggled orchids limped back into place.

“No.... They’re ruined. Now what am I supposed to display?” You heard him attempt to mutter under his breath, but his anger seemed to make his volume louder than intended. He was so flustered—it was oddly...kind of adorable. You couldn’t help but laugh. You knew your friend had meant no harm. He was a sweet guy, but generally oblivious, so things like this seemed to happen a lot. Chuckling under your breath, you couldn’t help but notice the strain in the host’s angular jawline, not to mention how good he looked with his eyebrows furrowed like that. Intense. It made you want to kiss the creases to relax him. Man, this guy was really getting to you...

Maybe it’s time to have some fun, you thought.

Leaning over the edge of the bench, you whispered surreptitiously, “Hey, maybe you should consider wheatgrass instead.” You sent a quick wink in the host’s direction, a thick cloud of giggles falling from your lips. Lashes fluttering , the poor guy seemed startled by your comment. He had been so wrapped up in blinders over his restaurant being ruined that he hadn’t realized anyone had been watching the entire interaction. For a quick second, embarrassment flashed over his features. The sudden chagrin on his face as he nervously ruffled his hair softened him. The Greek god of a man suddenly a soft, flustered boy. He looked so... sweet.

The whole scene gave you the oddest urge to pinch his cheeks and tell him how cute he was. But just as fast as it had appeared, the innocence in his wide eyes was gone, his composure swiftly resettling itself as his shoulders rolled down, his posture lifting him back up to full height. His confidence was back, and so was a lopsided smile that you decided you quite liked. “Might not be the worst idea.... certainly less overhead,” he sighed resignedly, hands hanging low on his hips as the tick in his jaw loosened, replaced instead by the beginning of a smirk.

“Much less upkeep. Less horizontal space. Equal level of pretension. I see no downsides,” you shrugged nonchalantly. You felt your own smile bloom wider the longer your gazes stayed fixed on each other. His eyes were dazzling- coffee brown and deep- as they glittered back at you. “I’ll look into it...might be a solid option. Have,” he hesitated. “Have you been here before? I don’t think I’ve seen you... I get the feeling I would have remembered you.” His face was so soft and unguarded, his pretty mouth just a bit too open as he searched his memory for a glimpse of you. You pulled your lip between your teeth as your smile threatened to grow.

“No,” you shook your head, hair bouncing around you. “It’s my first time here. First time for all of us actually. Hence, my friends lack of good graces with your horticultural displays.” you offered an apologetic shrug.

“May my orchids rest in peace,” he sighed with a shake of his head. “Not your fault though. You guys, uh, celebrating something?” He was suddenly too close for a stranger, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Oh, no. We just work in that massive upstart down the block. Kept hearing about the place, and Instagram kept hacking our feeds with ads for it so we finally caved. Figured we’d try it out. ” You waved across the table gesturing to everyone. There were all so deep in their own side conversations that no one seemed to pay any mind to you lingering oddly with the wait staff. “Glad to see the marketing is working out,” he chuckled. “Well...if it’s your first time, then you’ll need a proper guide through the story.” A glint of mischief sparkled deep in his chocolate eyes, and you felt something effervescent glitter up your spine in excitement. “I suppose we will.” With a bow from his hip and a nod, he turned on his heel with no explanation, leaving you to smile down at your menu like an idiot in his absence. Trying to read was pointless honestly. The letters might as well have been in Arabic as they swam across the page- you weren’t processing anything. Far too lost in a dreamy eyed splendor over the boy you’d just met until a bony elbow nudged its way between your ribs. “What was THAT all about?” Eileen’s eyebrows bounced with curiosity. “ I don’t know.” You answered honestly as your head shook. At this point, you were smiling so much your cheeks were beginning to hurt. “But my God, isn’t he CUTE?” You hid behind your hands. “Cute??” Eileen shoved you in the shoulder. “He’s not a corgi, y/n. He’s a grown man.” She bit her lip. “A GORGEOUS, full grown man....did you see him when he walked away? God, what a view.” You pressed your forehead into her shoulder and whimpered, “I knowww. His smile, those thighs, my god...and his butt. Did you see it? It’s better than mine.” You both fell into a fit of giggles.

“All I know is that if you don’t give him your number then he’s definitely getting mine tonight. Or anything else he’d like for that matter.” Your jaw fell open at her brazenness. “Hey! slow your roll. You can’t call dibs before I’ve even gotten his name!” you laughed.

“Then you better work fast, babe. Cuz butts like that don’t stay single for long.” She tipped her head to the side matter of factly.

“Oh my gosh, shut up! You don’t know when he’ll come back. He might hear you.” You breathed.

“Let him. It’ll make my job easier.” She bit down seductively on her red straw. Swatting at her, you both giggled before back into the table’s office gossip.

Apparently, Elliot had shown up to the office wasted again today- either from getting trashed the night before or from getting sloshed the morning of, no one was quite sure at this point. Either way, everyone was annoyed as hell that he’d never get more than a slap on the wrist for it since his dad managed their branch. Nepotism still alive and well. Clearly.

Popping an entire potsticker in your mouth, your belly ached with laughter as Sean told you all how his assistant had accidentally walked in on two higher ups making out in the supply closet this morning and how traumatized the poor intern had been. He described in detail how the poor slob had still tried to get around them to get the extra printer paper, and what a mess the whole ordeal had been. He owed you a clean fifty bucks now.

With your keen eyes, you’d been the first person to be suspicious of them- you’d called it a solid month ago- and had put your money where your mouth was. You’d started the office pool that they were in fact a secret couple- a bet you’d clearly just won if Sean bleak expression was anything to go by. Lunch on him all week. Potstickers til i burst? Don’t mind if I do.

It had been a great evening, full of unwinding and bonding. So great, that you’d completely forgotten about the mystery element of the dinner. That is, until a crystalline voice spoke above you, snapping you to attention.

“Pardon me, everybody. But it’s time for the mystery of the evening to begin.”

Surprised, your eyes darted up to see the cute guy from earlier. He was standing right behind you. Your pulse spiked as he sent a smirk your way. What were you supposed to do with that? He was so close now that you could hear the fabric of his dress shirt rustle every time he shifted or gestured above you. With every movement, a burst of his scent surrounded you. It was something citrus, something fresh. A dizzy smile tugged at your lips as it enveloped you like a cloud. God, you wanted to bury your nose in it. You were such a sucker for a good smelling boy...

And this one was so in your personal space. Which should have been off putting, honestly. Especially since you’d barely known him for half an evening. It was a bold choice on his part, to get so close to you. It should have been a turn off. Should have. But it wasn’t. Instead, you found yourself almost vibrating with excitement at the proximity of him. Whatever this gravitational pull was around him, you were perfectly content to get pulled straight into it.

If you’d had the nerve to, he truly was close enough that if you tipped your body back just a few degrees you could’ve rested your head against his lean stomach if you’d wanted to… which, of course you did want to do… but you’d only just met him. So instead, you bit down to stifle your smile, eyes flicking over to Eileen who was just as giddy on your behalf.

God he’s so cute, you thought. Wait- is he still talking? Crap-focus, you scolded yourself, tuning back into his monologue.

“As everyone knows, we all have the same five senses. But what happens when we lose one? How does it affect our instincts? Our gut? How does it change the way we listen to each other?” he paced around the edges of the table, hands clasped behind his tailbone. It made his dress shirt bunch deliciously in all the right places, and you bit back a smile. It was getting harder and harder to hide your little infatuation.

“When each of you arrived,” he continued, “you were each given a character and a backstory- No one should know it but you- but only one of you received the card that said killer. Someone at this table has committed a murder, but who? Often, our eyes can deceive us, so as part of tonight’s story, your sight will be taken from you as you try to decipher the truth. Can you rely on your other senses, your hearing, your intuition to solve this case?” A few other waiters approached the table with baskets in hand before the room went dark- completely.

Not the “the lights are off but we can all still see” kind of dark. It was the “it's so black in here that you can feel it” kind of dark. The kind of complete nothingness you never get with the ambient glow of street lights and screens everywhere. It was heavy and consuming, the absoluteness of the suddenly inky black room.

Swirling your own fingers in front of your face, you saw absolutely nothing. Not even the glint of your own jewelry, and something fantastic bubbled up in you. This is going to be so fun. Your heart began to race in anticipation- you didn’t even know what for yet. You felt your knuckles wrap around the bench beneath you, bracing, waiting, holding your breath, wondering when the night would finally be-

Only to have your thoughts stop. Completely.

Each individual one of them halted in their tracks by the sudden contact of warm fingertips against your skin. The gentle press of a large set of hands melted into the tops of your shoulders, thumbs bracing on the back of your neck. It was him again, wasn’t it?

He squeezed once, tense and hesitant despite his obvious strength, like he wasn't sure touching you was the best idea, but he couldn’t back out now that he’d started. The delicacy of it left you buzzing. In the silence, the pads of his fingers sunk deeply into your skin, and your breath caught. You’d never been this grateful for off the shoulder clothing in your life.

“May I?” he asked, tone honeyed and sweet.

You realized he meant the blindfold you’d heard so much about before you came and nodded your head just once, tension sticking in your throat as you tried to swallow it down. It was only then that you realized he probably couldn’t see you in the darkness. You’d have to gather your wits enough to verbally respond. You hoped he wouldn’t catch the way the “yes” that left your lips was embarrassingly breathless.

You heard him hum in response, holding whatever was left of your breath as his fingertips slowly fell from the tops of your shoulders, dragging across the edges your sleeves like he was in no rush to let you go. It was a strange intimacy from a stranger, but to be honest, you didn’t want him to let go either.

Until, quick as a whisper, his warmth was gone, leaving you alone in the dark. The shift so abrupt that part of you wondered if you’d imagined the last thirty seconds. His lingering hands had fallen away so abruptly at the end. Where had he gone?

It all felt like a fever dream you’d cooked up, like your own subconscious was mocking you for wanting him so bad. For a second, you wondered if you should be concerned by how obviously attracted you were to him. Should you be ashamed by how quickly you welcomed his touch? By the way your traitorous body showed no intention of pushing him away? Maybe you should, but he didn’t give you the time to overthink it before he was beside you again.

“Jungkook.” He whispered, only loud enough for you to hear.

“What?” You breathed, face turning toward his sound in the blackness.

“That’s my name. Jungkook.” He repeated, his voice airy and soft. You hadn’t realized how beautiful his voice was until it was the only thing you had to focus on. You could feel that he was bent low, his chest just brushing the tops of your shoulders. You felt dizzy at the sensation of his warm breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as a cool satin ribbon was draped over your eyes.

“In case you were wondering.” He whispered, pulling the edges of the fabric into a soft bow as he dipped to the other side of your shoulders. “But I’ll also answer to ‘guy with the butt that’s better than yours’ if you prefer.” His breathy laugh filled your ears, and you could practically hear him smiling. “Oh god, you heard that?” the back of your hand smothered your mouth, a smile emerging even as you cringed.

“Oh absolutely. Acoustics are insane in this place. It was kind of nice though... I mean, how often do I get to hear such a pretty girl compliment me ?” You could feel the rush of blood practically crashing into your cheeks. You knew the whole world would see you blushing if the lights were on. “I’m out of witty comments for that one.” “Don’t smile. You’ll mess up the blindfold,” he warned, the endearing softness in his voice undermining his words. “I’ll try. Don’t think I can help it though.” A satisfied hum left Jungkook’s lips as he pulled away and went back to the task at hand.

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And just like that, the mystery began with Jungkook as the narrator and weaver of your tale.

Your group had been given a story set in feudal Japan. Clashing samurai, feuding houses, forbidden love- Your friends all got surprisingly into it, losing their normal voices into the adopted lilts and pitches of their newfound characters.

It really was incredible the nuances you caught when you focused on your hearing. Jin’s voice, for example, was far more nasal than you realized. He had a tendency to react dramatically any time someone pressed him for details- clearly signaling how close they were to the truth the more he tried to hide it. Lina’s expressionless monotone was nearly impossible to read on voice alone, but it made her all the more fun to try to figure out. Despite focusing on the story, you couldn’t help but notice that while Jungkook had the entire table to canvas as he narrated, he still stayed suspiciously close to your side the entire time- like he couldn’t help himself. His fingertips would brush the fabric of your blouse when he’d pass. His taut arms would graze the swing of your ponytail as he walked by. He had no mercy on the fragile hummingbird flitting with wild abandon in your chest at each of his actions. In fact, you could hear the distinct note of something that sounded an awful lot like laughter in his voice anytime he gave instructions to your character specifically. Smug son of a gun. Soon, the story unraveled as it was revealed that Jin had, in fact, been the murderer. He was jealous of Lina’s love for samurai Hoseok and had killed him in a drunken rage but tried to frame Bobby for the dishonorable act.

With the crime solved, the lights were turned back on, a fuzzy halo emerging around the edges of your vision as a staff member came behind each guest to remove their blindfold. You were unsurprised when you were met with a gentle waft of clean citrus as Jungkook appeared once again to help you with yours. The warm pads of his fingers grazed your cheeks when he removed the satin ribbon. It was so quick- it was so hard to tell if it had been on purpose- before his touch was gone again far too quickly for your liking. “I must say, you were particularly clever.” He offered softly as he stood behind you. You dropped your neck back to look up at him, eyes wide. “Anyone paying attention would have known that wasn’t Bobby’s blade work.” “Still, most people don’t catch it on their first time through the story.” He tipped his head matter of factly. “Maybe I just had a good guide,” You winked, tucking your chin back to normal when you saw a faint pink color his cheekbones. He cleared his throat before addressing the table. “You’ll find your individual checks have been placed in front of you, along with a complimentary dessert. Thank you for dining with us this evening. It has been our pleasure.”

He bowed at the waist as he gave his farewell, making his last words spoken dangerously close to your ear. Adrenaline spiked in your veins at his proximity for the thousandth time tonight. As he returned to full height, another man approached the table, this one taller, leaner than jungkook, with a smile so innocent and wide it could have belonged to a child.

“Good evening everyone! How was your experience with us tonight?” His voice. It boomed like a clap of thunder. It was oddly deep for someone who looked so young. Everyone at the table chattered with random superlatives about how amazing the night had been as the man's smile glowed brighter.

“I’m so glad to hear it!! You had a real treat tonight- guided by our finest story teller.” Pride swelling in his eyes, the man clapped an embarrassed Jungkook on the shoulder. “Such a shame it might be the last story he tells here.” The baritone lamented. “What am I supposed to do without my partner?” The man used his other hand to clutch at his chest dramatically, face scrunched in distress, as you felt your heart free fall into your shoes.

Last story? “Calm down, Taehyung. You make it sound like I’m dying.” Jungkook rolled his eyes and swatted at the man. “You might as well be!” Taehyung huffed. “He’s leaving us tomorrow to start his new life! Off galavanting in the mountains somewhere with flowers and goats. Leaving all his old, true friends behind.” He wrapped an arm around jungkook’s shoulder, dragging him against his will into a side hug jungkook vehemently tried to escape. “Quiet down, bro. You’re making a scene.” Jungkook balked, face pale at the unwanted attention.

He’s…. leaving? Your stomach took a swan dive. No. But I just met him. How... where was he going? Your eyes fell back to the table as you steadied yourself.

You’d been so excited about where this all might go. It was hard enough to accept that you’d already gotten this attached to him. Let alone invested enough to be this disappointed…..but, you’d felt something so strong around him. The kind of glittering spark you hadn’t felt with another person in a long time, if ever.

Every time his eyes had lingered on you or his body had brushed against yours, a supernova had ignited in your chest. You’d spent the whole night going mad with the electric possibility of him- just to what? Feel like a fool for being infatuated with a stranger? Look like the naive girl you were, pining over a daydream?

This was ridiculous. You shook your head at yourself. This boy didn’t owe you anything. He was a stranger two hours ago, he’d stay a stranger when you left twenty minutes from now. But no matter how you tried to convince yourself, your poor heart still felt sick about it all. He’d just seemed so— you don’t know, special. So magnetic. And You’d thought he’d felt the same pull bringing him to you too.

Because why else would he have flirted with you half the night? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to lead you on if he knew it was going nowhere. An assumption you realized was a heck of a leap. You didn’t actually know anything about him, but somehow, something about that narrative just didn’t sit right with you. The look he’d had in his eyes each time he smiled at you tonight had seemed too sincere to be a lie. But from the way his loud friend was still talking, he made it sound like Jungkook was moving to the Alps.

So even if his sweet eyes had genuinely meant every smile tonight, was it really all for nothing? You knew the night was ending, and it was a long shot, but you’d really been holding out hope it might go somewhere beyond this. Apparently not. In an instant, he reappeared by your side, having broken free from the grip of his affectionate friend’s grasp. Jungkook dipped beside you once again as you stumbled to rearrange your now troubled features into something resembling disinterest.

“Hey, Sorry about that. But, I um, really do hope you have a great night. So your uh, your check is on the table.” His poise seemed a bit more rattled than before, but you were too glum to give it much notice.

You sent an out of focus glance in the ticket’s direction and nodded. He’d already told everyone that. Most of the table already had their debit cards out for their tickets. You didn’t know why he was bothering to mention it again when all you wanted to know was where he was going and if it was far.

“I um...didn’t get to catch your name earlier,” the smile he offered you was gentle, hopeful, as his wide brown eyes looked down at you. You felt yourself sigh withought meaning to. You’d have found the sheepish look in his eyes hopelessly adorable just a few minutes earlier, but now all it did was make your chest hurt. “Not a detail you need if you’re moving away though right?” You asked, a sadness creeping in your attempted smile. God, you weren’t fooling anyone. This was pathetic. His brows dipped at your response, confused by the shift in your demeanor. “I’m... I mean, i told you mine.” His gentle eyes tried to salvage the situation. The confidence he’d exuded all night was slipping away, a boyish vulnerability taking its place. There was no harm, you supposed. “Fair enough. It’s y/n.” you conceded. “Y/n.” He repeated, like he was trying to make the shape a new habit for his mouth. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

The smile you gave him back was a limp, pitiful thing, but it was the best you could give. Half an hour ago, you definitely didn’t think him calling you pretty would have made you so sad. Compliments didn’t usually send you into a craving for solitude and halo top ice cream, but this one certainly did.

“Well, y/n, I may not be as far away as you think. Have a good night.” And with that he was gone.

Bummed, you looked over your shoulder as he disappeared into the kitchen. “Shoot. Well, that was a fast track to nowhere,” you sighed to Eileen, slouching in your seat. “I know. Bummer. Seemed like he liked you too.” Eileen commiserated. “Right? So it wasn’t just me? You could tell too?” “Oh, he was totally obvious about it! He also gave you more ice cream than me. Shameless. Boy has no subtly.” You chuckled at her accusation, but sure enough, you did in fact have one scoop more ice cream in your jadeite bowl than the rest of your friends. This boy already knew the way to your heart.

“Still. Why act interested if you’re disappearing the next day?” You pouted. “Why show interest when he’s just a server you’ve never met before?” She asked pointedly, eyebrow arched as your eyes fell away. “People react when they feel something- and clearly you two were feeling something the entire night. His eyes didn’t leave you for a second....We don’t get to pick the timing of when we’re attracted to people, y/n. Nobody’s working with that kind of control.” Flopping onto her shoulder, you heaved a heavy sigh. “Again... you’re right. I just, I don’t know. There was just—something about him. He felt... special.” “He looked special in that outfit. Those buttons were crying.” She mockingly bit her lip as you swatted your napkin at her. “Eileen! Unhelpful! I’m aware.... I guess you just don’t always get to know where things could have gone.” You shrugged, wilting into her warmth. “I know, babe. Sorry.” She patted your head comfortingly. You turned to your ice cream to heal the wound, accepting that beautiful Jungkook would just be a passing meeting and a quick deadend to nowhere. After polishing off your dessert, you pulled out your cash to at least leave him the memory of a good tip when your eyes caught on scribbled handwriting in the top corner of your receipt. Hey, I don’t normally do something like this, but there’s a place around the corner that stays open super late. Meet me for crappy coffee + good conversation at 11? -jungkook xxx-xxx-xxxx You choked on nothing as you processed what was going on.

“Eileen! Eileen!!” You grabbed at her sleeve. “What?? What is it?! Calm down.” She pried your clutching hands off her cropped leather jacket, brushing off any damage you’d done.

“He gave me his number!” You nearly shouted.

“What?” She almost spat out her cocktail.

“He gave me his number!!” You waved the receipt wildly in her face. “He invited me to coffee and gave me his number!!!” You squealed, shrieking at an octave usually reserved for wild piglets. “Shut up! No way!!!” “Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!” You rambled ecstatically. “But wait!” your face fell,“ we’re supposed to go out for drinks with everybody after.” “And? Is that a joke??? You see us every day! What are you doing talking to me?? Text him! Go meet your man, honey. I’ll cover for you.” She winked as she swung her purse over her shoulder. “Really?? I love you! I owe you!” You yelled as she made her way to the door. “Um, You really don’t, but I’ll never turn down a favor. Let me know how it goes. See you on Monday.” She waved back at you, flipping the platinum ends of her ebony hair over her shoulder. “Hey! Where’s y/n? Isn’t she coming with us,” Jin seemed to be the only one alarmed by your absence. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, dear. I’ll fill you in later.” She grabbed him by his shoulders and nudged him out the door frame. “Ooo, bulking up are we, Kim? Feeling solid these days.”

“Yes actually!” His face glowed. “I have been! But you know, muscle tone is 80% genetics anyway. You cant just make yourself handsome, you know.You have to be born this good looking to start with and work from there.”

She knew there was no quicker, sure fire way to get Jin off topic than to ask him about himself. Once that train had left the station, there was little hope if any of ever turning back.

Eileen really took one for the team there. “Call me” she mouthed back at you as they slipped off into the night. You chuckled to yourself at the scene, finally realizing the turn your own evening was about to take. You plugged his number into your phone and shot him a quick message. [10:35pm] Hey, how did you know I was always down for quality conversation? Moments later, your phone began to buzz. Jungkook [10:36pm] Just went with my gut ;)

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rachelbethhines · 4 years

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Rapunzel Day One

This is decent episode, and one of the few that isn’t filler in season two, but because there are problems with the over all character acs, there’s problems here with episode too.

Summary: Rapunzel and Cassandra come across an abandoned magic stall while searching for parts of their destroyed caravan. The stall contains a wand of forgetting. Cassandra impulsively wishes that Rapunzel would "just forget about everything" when she was tired of her trying to patch things up between them, which results in Rapunzel regressing to when she was still in her tower with Gothel.

The Episode Order is Confusing

So this and The Brothers Hook aired on the same day. Now in the production order listing, Rapunzel Day One is suppose to come before The Brothers Hook and that’s how it’s ordered on Disney Plus. Which is where I’m watching this marathon and getting all my screen caps.

However The Brothers Hook did air before this episode according to Wikipedia. Also Hook Foot is nowhere to be seen with nary a word. So placing The Brothers Hook before would indeed make more sense in that regard.

Yet Raps and Cass aren’t fighting in The Brothers Hook, so I don’t understand how this was supposed to originally work. What’s the correct viewing order here? Is Hook Foot just off screen with Fidella this episode, or is Cass and Raps ignoring their big fight in The Brother’s Hook?

For Someone With a Disability Now, It Doesn’t Seem To Affect Things

Ok, to be fair, they do show Cassandra practicing here and later in Mirror, Mirror trying to relearn how to use her hand, and indeed physical therapy for injuries is a thing. Yet, two scenes isn’t enough to establish that. She regains usage of her hand really quickly and far too easily, given the type of injury it was.

Disabilities, even unseen ones, still impact your everyday life. Yes, they don't ruin your life; you can still do things. But they don't just go away and you have to deal with it.

Finding that balance between not making a character useless, while still recognizing that there are things that they struggle with when writing disabilities is a line that writers have trouble with. But if you’re not going to put in that effort needed to pull it off tastefully then don't introduce the concept.

One Step Forward; Two Steps Back

Rapunzel recognizing that there is a problem, and wanting to fix it before it gets worse, can be viewed as progress. After all, avoiding the issue is why things got so bad between her and Varian. But, she’s still failing to see why Cassandra is upset and so goes about things the wrong way.

And keep in mind, Rapunzel does have every right to be mad at Cassandra, just the same that Cass has a right to be mad at Rapunzel. Both girls screwed up.

Yet, it’s only Rapunzel’s side of things that Rapunzel cares about, and therefore nothing actually gets resolved.

This could have been a decent conflict for season three, but that’s not where the writers take things so we’re just spinning our wheels here.

It’s also kind of shitty that Cass is the only person that Rapunzel is willing to put effort into righting things with. She still doesn’t give a crap about Varian, nor any other villain in the show.

Well I Guess This Has to Come Before The Brothers Hook

They have the caravan in Brothers Hook, don’t they? I mean how else did they meet up with Hook Hand? But if that is the case then where is Hook Foot now? I don’t know.

Cassandra’s Hurt Hand Only Matters When It Concerns Her Relationship With Rapunzel and Not How It Affects Her Character as a Whole

An extension of what I was saying before, but it shows the fundamental problem with the writing for Cassandra. The writers only think of her as a conflict for Rapunzel and not as a person with like her own life and shit.

Long Time, No See Owl

As soon as Hook Foot goes unceremoniously missing, then Owl shows up. I don’t think he’s been seen since season one, yet they act like he’s always been here with the group.

Why is continuity and consistency so hard for this show?

The Saporians Are Indeed Homeless, But Don't Expect That to Ever Be Brought Up

So things to note.

This isn’t a village. It’s an encampment. What we see here are destroyed tents and caravans. The only permanent structure is a short stone wall.

Secondly, the magic book they find has the Saporian symbol on it, and indeed the Saporians use the wand of oblivium to take over Corona in S3.

What we can gather from this is that the Saporians were driven out of Corona after the first war. They’ve been living as nomads for centuries without their homeland.Yet their most recent settlement was destroyed by the black rocks sometime before season one started, along with most of their possessions and means of living.

All of this would explain their motivations, goals, and why they picked now to try and take over and not just any other time.

But don't expect any of that to be brought up or remembered by anyone come season three. We can’t have any po the bad guys, save for Cass, being sympathetic now can we.

Also, just a side note. It’s funny how apothecary is treated as magic and alchemy as a science in this world, when in reality it should be the opposite way around.

This is Not an Apology

If you gotta throw a ‘but’ in there, then you haven’t really apologized.

Rapunzel’s not sorry for Cass getting hurt. She doesn’t recognize nor understands why Cassandra feels the way she does, and she’s even attempting to try to. All Rapunzel cares about is how Cass being upset makes herself feel. She’s putting in this effort to ‘talk about it’ because Cass being outwardly angry at her is inconvenient to herself and nothing more.

Rapunzel Still Hasn't Learned Boundaries

Didn’t we already have this conversation back in season one?

And like, yes, it’s not good for Cassandra to ignore her feelings, but what Rapunzel does here by pushing isn’t a good thing either.

What's most frustrating though is that neither learn anything from this. Just like they didn’t learn anything in Under Raps or Goodbye and Goodwill.

It’s aggravating to see the writers give us an actual conflict that’s worth having the mains fight over, only to be undermined by previous episodes and then thrown away altogether.

So How Come the Wand Only Erases Part of Rapunzel’s Memory and Not All?

Like, this is suppose to be set for season three with Frederic and Arianna losing their memories. Yet despite Clementine using a similar wand, it doesn’t have the same effect on them as it does on Rapunzel here. They lose all their memories and sense of identity, while Raps just forgets a few years.

Speaking Forgetting How Things Work

Where did this handy dandy book with the cure go when Frederic and Arinna lost their memories? Why didn’t Raps go looking for it then, or force the Saparoians to give her the cure while they were in her custody?

So This Plot Point Kind of Back Fires, and Winds Up Undermining Everyone’s Relationship with Rapunzel

First off, just repeating New Dream scenes from the movie, but with Cass in Eugene’s place is ill advised given the direction that the show went in. Whether you ship Casspunzel or not, it’s important to recognize that ‘sisters’ is what they are intended to be in canon. That’s the direction that Chris went with them, whether we like it or not. So either no one on the show knows how to write platonic female relationships, or this is gay baiting. Take your pick.

It’s also lazy.

But most damaging is that this only shows that Cassandra only liked Rapunzel when she was naive and stupid, and not the Rapunzel we have now. Tie in how her friendship with Rapunzel is based off of validation to begin with and we got a very unhealthy relationship, and not one that should be rooted for, despite the show wanting you to do just that.

They even go so far to repeat the lines from the flashback in the last episode, as if this was a positive thing in their dynamic, instead of recognizing it for the really mess up thing that it.

Then there’s the Eugene side of things that this calls into question.

We know Eugene loves Rapunzel through thick and thin, but how much of their relationship is based off their first adventure together and not about how they work together in the here in now?

Did Rapunzel just simply latch on to Eugene because he’s the first person that she met who wasn’t her mother and wound up being nice to her? If anyone else found her, would she be in a relationship with them instead? Is it healthy for her to never look for anything else? How much does Rapunzel actually like Eugene, for himself?

Then throw in Eugene’s over idealization of Rapunzel in season three, they’re lack of communication issues, and Rapunzel’s crippling need to always be right, and I can’t say if New Dream should be what we’re rooting for either.

This isn’t a Casspunzel vs New Dream thing, nor is it a personal dislike of Rapunzel herself. Rather, it’s a very serious question about the nature of Rapunzel’s interpersonal relationships vs her character development, and how that has to change things on some level, and if it’s still worth having those relationships now that she herself has changed so drastically.

Is everyone being fulfilled? Is everyone getting what they need still? No? Then, why are any of these people still together?

That needs to be addressed by the narrative now, and it never is.

So Why Would You Say That Cass?

Rapunzel doesn’t know where she is and therefore has no idea what direction the tower lies in. If you’re heading south back to the camp then just say the tower is south. In fact it actually is south because you’ve been traveling northeast to the Dark Kingdom for months now, according to the map in Rapunzel’s Return. So what was the point in lying about that?

In in effort make Rapunzel look smart, they had to make Cass look dumb and that’s not good writing. If you needed Rapunzel to suddenly not trust Cass then there were other better ways. The drawing she placed in her pocket should be enough on its own to tip her off, and all she has to do is reach into her pocket to put like a rock she found in there and then find it that way.

So When Did Rapunzel Have Time to Build This Elaborate Mousetrap?

This would have taken hours, it’s not even been minutes.

There’s making Raps competent and then there’s turning her into an overpowered invincible heroine.

Now Pascal Is Missing

Oh is he with fucking Hook Foot now?

He was right on your shoulder Eugene.

If you’re going to have characters conveniently missing then establish that first, preferably in a visual way and not with exposition.

So Rapunzel is Treat As In the Right Even When She’s Not

So Cassandra opening up about her feelings is treated as the solution to the problem, but it’s really not, or it shouldn’t be anyways. She can recognize she lied about the wand without having to doing something she finds uncomfortable, and it’s not like Rapunzel right now has any frame of reference for what Cass is talking about.

All this amounts to is giving Rapunzel a free pass on her earlier bullshit.

Also if Cass repeating a phrase Rapunzel said earlier was all that was needed to jog her memory enough to trust her, then why couldn’t Eugene done the same? He was right there.

This Doesn’t Resolve Anything

Ok first off that’s not what friends do. Friends actually work through shit. Friends make sincere apologies. Friends forgive each when they do.

If you’re not doing that then you’re not friends and you should just leave.

No one, not Raps, not Cass, ever apologizes for what happened in the Great Tree. They never try to understand what either of them did wrong, nor do they put effort into fixing themselves or addressing their issues and flaws.

And you know what? That would be a valid reason for their falling out in season three. But it’s not used as such, so any resolution to their conflict there winds up feeling hollow.

Conclusion

This episode, like with the Great Tree, gave me hope that this was all leading somewhere. Now it’s just a bitter reminder of how screwed up the writers’ morals are in this show, and how poorly planned everything was.

#tangled #anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #anti-cassandra #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure

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