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docholligay · 3 years

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The Green Knight: A Ramble Through the Field of Honor

So I talked in an earlier post very glancingly about the line “Why greatness? Is goodness not enough?” and how it fits into the idea that Gawain has no idea what true greatness looks like, and I think, dovetailing into that, we kind of have to talk about how Gawain is...not a great guy.

And I’m not even talking about the way we begin the movie with him in a brothel, though I am going to use that to spring off here and talk about his conduct toward Essel. Knightly stories are full of these ideas of chivalry particularly around women, and I think Lowery is using Essel to make the point that Gawain is not doing that, not even remotely. Essel is a working girl, sure, but she’s also, as its shown throughout the movie, devoted to him, and cares for him far beyond his ability to provide for her. She even tells him that she has his gold, when she asks to be his lady, but she wants very simple things--to sit by his side at the fire, and have his ear, and be his lady. In full fairness to Gawain, I suppose, he never pretends even for a moment that he has any intention of doing that. Gawain is not interested in whatever he might owe her, because in seeking his greatness he utterly passes by this goodness.

We see this again in “A Kindness” where he repeatedly tells the scavenger that he is “Just passing through” when asked if he is a knight, not dodging the question, exactly, but allowing the scavenger to think this untrue thing. The scavenger talks about how he has brothers out there, the wide field of bodies like the fallen trees, showing us the lumber that Camelot is built upon, but Gawain does not have a moment for sympathy or pause. He fails to see this kid as a human being, and the narrative allows us to glance over it too, fixated in the same way Gawain is on the destination and not the journey.

Even when he is given instructions about how to get to the Green Chapel, when it’s been shown he has only the roughest sketched ideas of the way--and we can argue that the instructions may be false, but I’m not sure I think it matters--all he offers this scavenger, this BOY, is his thanks, despite being told he’s lost his family, was almost lost himself. He has to be shamed into offering a single coin, when Excalibur itself was offered to him when he needed the help.

This goes back to the idea of a test, and of Gawain’s repeated failures to have honor, to be great. He can’t see that mercy and generosity are a part of what it means to be a knight, to bear that mantle of goodness that I would argue underlies the knightly ideal.

This is why, when he’s captured and his things taken from him, he asks for the GReen Chapel and is told, “You’re in it.” This is a test as surely as kneeling before the Knight himself, and he’s failed, not only the test of generosity, but of courage, as he pleads with them that he’s not a knight, and he never said he was, and it’s true, that he isn’t, and so he’s stripped of all the trappings that make him a knight--his horse, his arms, his shield--because if he will not behave a knight, if he will not meet the world with the courage and honor he’s meant to have, then he may as well have none of it at all.

Gawain is pretty much a world-class fuckboy until the Tale of St. Winifred, until he truly connects with the natural impulse within him in the form of the fox (More on this in a much longer later post)

The tale of St. Winifred is his chance to begin his redemption, really the first time that he’s been willing to take any real instruction on the nature of becoming a knight--he sure as shit could not be bothered to listen to Arthur--and so this is where he earns back the axe. He earns back the right to even have this quest in the first place.

I don’t know how much the audience knows about the tale of St. Winifred, but the details are changed from the usual telling of the story in order to support the themes of the film. St. Winifred is also, in one sense, a tale of beheading and of virtue. That in upholding her ‘purity,’ she lost her life and her head. This is why I think it’s not actually a foregone conclusion that Gawain is spared at the end--I think Lowery makes the point that sometimes our values must be paid for in blood.

The flexible nature of honor is addressed directly in Winifred’s story. From the beginning, when she tells him not to touch her, that “a knight should know better,” there’s a sort of restarting the clock on his ability to be that knight. He just failed the last test, but as people, we are not who we are in one moment, whether that is terribly virtuous, or terribly cowardly, but the accumulation of who we are in all the moments. Each story is the chance to start again, and that’s why you’ll see so much menton of his being a knight at the start of each ‘section.’ It’s his chance to begin this anew.

In that way of, just tell the audience what’s going on, when Winifred is telling her story, of a man who came and desired to lay with her, and says, ‘Perhaps he was thee,’ that’s not just speaking to the sense of circles and repetition of nature in the movie--though not unrelated--but the idea that Gawain could be that man, could still, in a sense, choose to be that man. That he can always fail this test, too.

“If I go and get it, what will be my reward?”

It takes you aback, just for a moment, when he asks her that, until we realize that we were all asking ourselves that too. Reading into the traditions behind knights and saints, I think we’re used to the idea that a boon will be received for dong the right thing, and Lowery asks us to evaluate all that in Winifred’s reply:

“Why would you ask me that? Why would you ever ask me that?”

Harkening back to when he didn’t give the kid more than just a single coin, and telling him, “my thanks”--does he really have the right to ask for such a thing when he couldn’t manage to reward kindness himself-- but also the idea that honorable tasks should be taken up for their own sake, and not in order to have a reward. Can you truly be said to be acting with chivalry and honor if you’re doing it for a reward, or even notoriety?

Going back to my larger theory that Lowery is trying to bring forth the idea in all of this that there is no such thing as being a “knightly” sort of person at rest, while still holding that the decisions of a moment can cement the sort of person we continue to be, it makes sense that he would ask if we can say Gawain passes this test, if Winifred regards him.

“Now I can see thee,” she says, because this is a baptism of sorts, and being a saint, she can only see a soul in clarity. This is the direct opposite to the moment that Arthur tells him he has mud on his face, this is in direct opposite to his behavior with Essel, this is him doing the right and kind thing for a woman, without a thought to reward, and in that, he is cleaned, and Winifred can see what’s underneath, the sort of man he can be under what he’s accumulated.

ANd this is why he gets back the axe. It gives him leave to continue his quest, even though just a bit earlier, when asked where he was going, he simply said, “home.” But the show of the axe let him know that honor was not yet lost to him, that there was still a chance to be the sort of person he might have been.

WHich, by the way, does not makes things clear to him still. Life is not that simple, and I am very very resolute on my idea that a lot of what this movie is about is about the journey of our own lives to meet death and live with honor inasmuch as we can overcome our own cowardice and shitty behavior to do so, and even at the end of it all, about to meet the Green Knight, asked why he’s doing it, expressing that honor is why a knight does what he does, and then, pressed, says:

“Honor is a part of the life I want.”

This is Lowery pretty firmly taking aim at the old Arthurian texts, wherein honor very often good be a sole raison d’etre, saying that for most of us--and I would argue the whole reason Gawain is a fuck up is that he’s meant to represent most of us--that isn’t enough. There needs to be something more.

I also don’t think, for all I’ve talked about tests, that Gawain’s cowardice with the Green Knight had to be the end of the story. I think Essel’s pregnancy, and his cruelty, was a test. I think lying about what happened in the Green Chapel and accepting a knighthood was a test. I think there are multiple tests in that little interlude, but you see, the problem is, the more you do something, the more you’ll do it. As he makes these choices, this more and more becomes the man he is, as these choices stack up like stones, it gets harder and harder to knock down that wall. This is why his green sash--his cowardice--has become a physical part of him by the end of that interlude, bleeding as he draws it out.

Honor isn’t set, and it isn’t enough. Life is a confusing journey, rife with difficulty to do the right thing with consistency not because of outside influence so much as ourselves. Gawain’s great antagonist in al of this is not the Green Knight, but himself. Such as it is for all of us, as we TRY to be good people, and risk sometimes redefining honor, or greatness, what it means to be “a knight” in order to convince ourselves that it might be true.

“Is this all there is?” Gawain asks, before the axe is laid down, and I want to give Dev Patel a lot of credit here, though I’ve mostly been focusing on imagery and story. I’m not sure this would work as well if he hadn’t made it feel quite as human as it does, when he says it. It’s the question I think all of us ask, as we contemplate our own deaths, our own struggles to even up with what was right. Is there no way of knowing what comes next?

Life is a series of tests. A measure of honor. And what else ought there be?

On Doc and The Green Knight

#Green Knight shit #hi please enjoy two thousand words where I'm still not sure I said all I wanted to

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kellyvela · 3 years

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Has GRRM ever said in any interview or on his blog that he hates Sansa's complete storyline after 4th season? I dont really follow all of his fan/media interactions but from what I can recall he has spoken abt how LF in books wont give sansa to ramsay or how noone had issue when Jeyne was given the Ramsay storyline in books etc. Asking this question to you bcs you rightly point out how ppl misunderstood his interviews/posts ( sansans/targ stans etc) & I cant recall him ever saying he 'hates' sansa's story in the later seasons of the show ( not s5 in particular but even s6 to s8).

Capclave 2013:

A change that has repercussions for season 4 is Marillion’s tongue removal from the first season. Martin said that the change was made (from an anonymous singer being the victim of a de-tonguing) because they wanted Joffrey to maim someone the audience would recognize. He believes this is an issue because of the part the singer plays in Sansa’s storyline, how he affects her interactions with others in the book, and he doesn’t believe another character will be fulfilling that role on Game of Thrones.

—GRRM talks season 4 & beyond - Winter is Coming - October 13, 2013

2014 Fan Reports about Capclave 2013 (*):

In a convention panel this year, George said on the record that he had no idea what they were doing with Sansa or where they’re taking her storyline, which now makes sense perhaps. He was not pleased when he was talking about it, so who knows what’s going to happen with her! Knowing GRRM, that could mean they’re going off the canon reservation, and/or that they’re going to be making a lot of shit up

I have notes I’ll be responding to (thanks!) but enough people commented about Sansa that I thought I’d share that tidbit, since it happened back in September iirc (was the same panel where he criticized the exclusion of Tyrell brothers)

—starkalypse - June 3, 2014

GRRM’s comments at capclave about Sansa (which I was in the third row for, for those asking about legitimacy) were among others during the panel that had a general theme of dissatisfaction with show changes. He was not in good spirits for that con and didn’t really have anything positive to say regarding the show. So take it with a grain of salt; there are deviations away from the books in the episodes he gets writers credit for, so maybe they’re doing something stupid or they really don’t have a gameplan!

—starkalypse - June 4, 2014

(*) These reports were posted in June 2014, during the airing of Game of Thrones Season 4, about Capclave 2013 that happened in October 2013.

Just after the rape episode:

How many children did Scarlett O’Hara have? Three, in the novel. One, in the movie. None, in real life: she was a fictional character, she never existed. The show is the show, the books are the books; two different tellings of the same story.

There have been differences between the novels and the television show since the first episode of season one. And for just as long, I have been talking about the butterfly effect. Small changes lead to larger changes lead to huge changes. HBO is more than forty hours into the impossible and demanding task of adapting my lengthy (extremely) and complex (exceedingly) novels, with their layers of plots and subplots, their twists and contradictions and unreliable narrators, viewpoint shifts and ambiguities, and a cast of characters in the hundreds.

There has seldom been any TV series as faithful to its source material, by and large (if you doubt that, talk to the Harry Dresden fans, or readers of the Sookie Stackhouse novels, or the fans of the original WALKING DEAD comic books)… but the longer the show goes on, the bigger the butterflies become. And now we have reached the point where the beat of butterfly wings is stirring up storms, like the one presently engulfing my email.

Prose and television have different strengths, different weaknesses, different requirements.

David and Dan and Bryan and HBO are trying to make the best television series that they can.

And over here I am trying to write the best novels that I can.

And yes, more and more, they differ. Two roads diverging in the dark of the woods, I suppose… but all of us are still intending that at the end we will arrive at the same place.

In the meantime, we hope that the readers and viewers both enjoy the journey. Or journeys, as the case may be. Sometimes butterflies grow into dragons.

—The Show, the Books - Not A Blog - May 18, 2015

Report about the last Game of Thrones Script that GRRM wrote:

No Wedding for Sansa and Ramsay: Without question, one of the most controversial changes the show made in trying to streamline the books was by slotting Sansa into the role of Ramsay’s wife and rape victim in Season 5. In the books, Ramsay marries and assaults Sansa’s best childhood friend, Jeyne Poole—who is being forced to impersonate Arya—instead. (You can actually see Jeyne briefly sitting next to Sansa in the show’s pilot.)

At the time Martin wrote this script, though, substituting Sansa for Jeyne was not yet the plan. Martin has Roose Bolton tell his bastard son: “We have a much better match in mind for you. A match to help House Bolton hold the north. Arya Stark.” It should be noted, however, that in Martin’s script, Sansa isn’t free from menace either. At his own wedding-day breakfast, Joffrey still threatens to rape the older Stark sister—once he’s “gotten Margaery with child.”)

—Game of Thrones: The Secrets of George R.R. Martin’s Final Script - Vanity Fair - December 7, 2018

A month before the Game of Throne S8 Finale:

Sansa’s story, in particular, has really deviated from the books. Ramsay Bolton — that marriage obviously was with a different character. When they start deviating like that, did you initially have any emotional reaction, even though you worked in Hollywood for many years yourself?

GRRM: Well, yeah — of course you have an emotional reaction. I mean, would I prefer they do it exactly the way I did it? Sure. But I’ve been on the other side of it, too. I’ve adapted work by other people, and I didn’t do it exactly the way they did it, so ….

Some of the deviation, of course, is because I’ve been so slow with these books. I really should’ve finished this thing four years ago — and if I had, maybe it would be telling a different story here. It’s two variations of the same story, or a similar story, and you get that whenever anything is adapted. The analogy I’ve often used is, to ask how many children did Scarlett O’Hara have? Do you know the answer to that?

I know it’s different in the book and the movie …

GRRM: Three children in the book, one by each husband. She had one child in the movie. And in real life, of course, Scarlett O’Hara had no children, because she never existed. Margaret Mitchell made her up. The book is there. You can pick it up and read Mitchell’s version of it, or you can see the movie and see David Selznick’s version of it. I think they’re both true to the spirit of the work, and hopefully that’s also true of Game of Thrones on one hand, and A Song of Ice and Fire on the other hand.

—George R.R. Martin on the Stark Sisters and Ending ‘Game of Thrones’ - RollingStone - April 22, 2019

James Hibberd’s Book:

GEORGE R. R. MARTIN: Jeyne Poole was included in the pilot—she’s shown giggling next to Sansa—but she’s never seen or referred to again. I actually wrote Jeyne into “The Pointy End,” my first script, when Arya killed the stableboy. I had some stuff with Jeyne running to Sansa being all hysterical and dialogue in the council chamber with Littlefinger saying, “Give her to me, I’ll make sure she doesn’t cause any trouble.” That was dropped.

DAVID BENIOFF: Sansa is a character we care about almost more than any other. We really wanted Sansa to play a major part in that season. If we were going to stay absolutely faithful to the book, it was going to be very hard to do that. There was a subplot we loved from the books, but it was a character not involved in the show.

GEORGE R. R. MARTIN: I was trying to set up Jeyne for her future role as the false Arya. The real Arya has escaped and is presumed dead. But this girl has been in Littlefinger’s control for years, and he’s been training her. She knows Winterfell, has the proper northern accent, and can pose as Arya. Who the hell knows what a little girl you met two years ago looks like? When you’re a lord visiting Winterfell, are you going to pay attention to the little kids running around? So she can pull off the impersonation. Not having Jeyne, they used Sansa for that. Is that better or worse? You can make your decision there. Oddly, I never got pushback for that in the book because nobody cared about Jeyne Poole that much. They care about Sansa.

—Fire Cannot Kill a Dragon: Game of Thrones and the Official Untold Story of the Epic Series by James Hibberd - October 6, 2020

GEORGE R. R. MARTIN: My Littlefinger would have never turned Sansa over to Ramsay. Never. He’s obsessed with her. Half the time he thinks she’s the daughter he never had—that he wishes he had, if he’d married Catelyn. And half the time he thinks she is Catelyn, and he wants her for himself. He’s not going to give her to somebody who would do bad things to her. That’s going to be very different in the books.

—Fire Cannot Kill a Dragon: Game of Thrones and the Official Untold Story of the Epic Series by James Hibberd - October 6, 2020

I hope it helps you.

Thanks for your message.

#sansa stark #grrm

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lucisfavoritedemon · 3 years

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The Black Dove

Pairings: Bucky x reader, Steve x reader (no Stucky), Sam & Dean x Winchester!reader, Castiel x reader

Summary: All you have ever known was how to fight and hunt. Your world and all you have ever known is thrown through a loop when you are sucked through a portal, and forced to adjust to this new reality. Will you leave the life you knew for so long, or will you decide to go back home, leaving the ones you loved behind?

Squares Filled: Crossover @marvelfluffbingo Free Space @spnfluffbingo

Warnings: some angst, fighting with siblings, super fluffy conversations, happy Steve, homesickness, fluff, and more fluff

Word Count: 4954

A/N: All mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!

I used to be a normal girl, who lived a normal life. As normal as life as a “criminal” could be. My name is Y/n Winchester, my brothers are Dean and Sam. We are hunters of the supernatural. We have been hunting for as long as I can remember. I was only a year old when my mother died, and Sam was only still a baby.

Though we knew what was truly out there, not many people did. That’s where the life of fake credit cards, and run ins with the law come in. It wasn’t an ideal life, but it was a life that we wouldn’t change for the world. At least that’s what I always thought.

Sam and I were looking through books at the bunker library. We were trying to find a way to open the portal to the other reality where our mom was stuck in with Lucifer. We were getting no closer to finding a way to open the portal.

“I’m getting so tired of all these books. Don’t get me wrong, I love books, but this is just exhausting that we aren’t any closer.” I said, slamming my book closed.

“I know. We can’t just give up though. We don’t have that option.”

“I understand, but why can’t Dean help us too. We shouldn’t have to do it all ourselves.”

“I know, but he is seeing if he can find cases for us while we look. Maybe hoping to give us a break.”

“Are you sure? He hasn’t left his room. I even made dinner, and he hasn’t come out.”

“Maybe you should go check on him?”

“Why is it always me.” I stand up, playfulling stomping my foot. I walk down the hall to his room. I knock before walking in.

“Hey, I just started it, wanna watch it with me?” Dean said, eating a slice of pizza.

“No! You’re supposed to be looking for cases! Not watching movies.” I grab his remote and turn it off.

“Sorry, but I haven’t found anything.”

I grab his computer. I begin to look for mysterious deaths in the area, or in nearby states. “There. Found one. Was that so hard?”

“Cas will stay here and keep you company while you finish finding that portal thing.”

“Fine. Get dressed. I’ll go tell Sam.” I walk out, and head back to Sam, “lazy ass was watching movies and eating pizza. I found a case for you guys. Call Cas for me. Dean apparently thinks I can’t handle going out on a case, and I also need a babysitter.”

“Yeah I’ll call him.” Sam chuckles.

“Thanks.” I go to the kitchen, and get another plate of food. I sit at the table and take a breather. I hoped that we would find how to reopen the portal, but I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take.

“We’re heading out. Cas said he would be here soon.” Sam said.

“Okay.” I just look down at my plate.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. We’ll be back before you even know we’re gone.” Dean reassured.

“It doesn’t matter. I just hate it when I can’t go.”

“If we didn’t need to find a way to open the rift again, you could come with us.” Dean smiled, trying to be positive.

“Sam and I should be the ones going. You have done nothing.” I snapped.

“Y/n, please calm down.” Sam tried to diffuse the situation. He knew Dean and I couldn’t stand each other sometimes.

“Sorry, but it’s true. He was in there watching movies, and eating pizza after I worked for an hour to make a homemade dinner for us.”

“It was kind of rude Dean. She did find a case for us quickly.”

“No. We both talked about this.”

“Talked about what?”

“We feel like after the last hunt, you need to stay benched.”

“Fine. But I don’t always need a babysitter.”

“Yes you do. To make sure you don’t find a hunt, and take off.”

“Why do you care?”

“In case you get arrested? There is still a warrant out for your arrest.”

“Like you two should talk.”

“Thing is, we are ‘dead’. They realised you’re not.”

“Okay, you have a point, but it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yeah, but it should be the last.” Dean says, walking away.

“We’ll call you when we get a motel.” Sam gives a small smile.

“Be safe please.”

“Promise. You stay out of trouble.”

“I’ll try.”

Sam walks out, and I’m left alone again. I finish eating real quick and go back to researching. It wasn’t too long before Cas showed up.

“I brought snacks.”

I smile kindly, “thanks Cas.”

“I know you don’t want me here, and all, but I feel like we don’t hang out much on our own.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you here, it’s the fact my brothers don’t trust me enough to stay here.”

“I agree with them though.”

“Of course you do.” I go back to reading, already wanting the small talk to stop.

“I don’t want anything happening to you. Believe it or not you and Dean are very similar in that aspect.”

“Don’t compare us. I want to be NOTHING like him. I at least do some real work around here.”

“You both are strong headed. Both have the will to help people no matter what it takes, but right now, you need to stay here for a while. Just till this blows over.”

“And what if it doesn’t? I’m not going to continue to be sidelined.”

“I know. If this doesn’t blow over in a month, I will talk to them.”

“Fine, but don’t think I’m letting you off easy. You still agreed with them.”

I smile, and finish scanning through the book I was reading earlier. On the very last page there was a spell that could open a hole to another reality of our world. “I think I found something. It seems a lot easier than we thought it would be.”

“It may look simple, but that could change.”

“We have half the stuff here in the bunker. All we need are these last few ingredients.”

“We will wait for them to get back then. I’m not letting you out, and I’m not leaving you alone.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Now we can hang out and enjoy each other’s company.”

“For someone who wants my attention, you haven’t made a good case for yourself.”

“I’m trying. I’m new to this whole relationship thing.”

“I know, but usually if your girlfriend is complaining about someone, you don’t agree with the person they’re angry with.”

“Then I would be lying, and I’ve read that you will always figure out when I’m lying.”

“Okay point.”

He pulls me onto his lap, “I may not know a lot about relationships, but I do know that I never ever want to lie to you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere with me Cas.”

“I’m not trying to flatter you. I’m being honest.”

“Fine,” I lean in to kiss him, but I’m interrupted by my phone ringing, “hello?”

“Hey, we made it to the motel for the night. Is Cas there?” Sam said, and I could tell he was smiling.

“Yeah, he’s here. I wish you two would have waited just a little longer before leaving. I found something.”

“You did!? What is it? Is it complicated?”

“No. We actually have a little over half the things we need here at the bunker, and the rest we can easily obtain.”

“Sounds good. Get done as quick as you can.”

“We will do our best. See you in a few days.”

“See ya.”

He hung up quickly before I could say anything else. I just wish that I was able to do more than to stay here. I understand that I screwed up, and they didn’t want me to pay the price like they had to in the past. I couldn’t be too mad, but I still wanted to help. Not just sit here with my hands tied.

“You okay?” Cas spoke up, tearing me from my thoughts.

“I will be. I just hope that this works. If not, then it’ll be my fault for giving false hope.”

“Don’t blame yourself. They won’t blame you.”

“They may not, but I will blame myself.”

“Y/n, don’t say that. I promise everything will be okay. This is going to work, it has to.”

“Which is why you have to let me gather the ingredients. I need to test it. If it works, then they can go through, but I have to to test it.”

“And what if it doesn’t?”

“Then maybe I could be used for something good for once. Make Dean see I’m not just a screw up.”

“He doesn’t think you’re a screw up.”

“Yes he does. I’m going out to get the rest of this stuff. I’ll go in a disguise. I will be careful. You just have to trust me.”

“Okay. You have an hour. If you’re not back, I’m coming back to find you.”

“Fair enough.” I change, then head out. It doesn’t take me long to find the rest of the ingredients. I get back and start working on the spell.

“I hope this works.”

“Me too.” I finish mixing everything together. I began to read the spell, as the room began to glow bright. I finished reading the spell, and there, in the middle of the room, was a red lightning bolt thing. I had a feeling it was the portal we needed.

“There. It worked. Now, we wait for Sam and Dean.”

“No. I have to test it.”

“We don’t know how stable it is.”

“Doesn’t matter. I have to try. If it closes, you have the spell and the ingredients to pen it back up.”

“Y/n, please don’t.”

“I’m sorry Cas.” I hug him tightly, and kiss him before I head to the portal. I walk through as everything goes black.

3rd Person POV:

It was the end of the battle, and the Avengers were sent to scan the streets of New York for anything that remained of the battle. They were about to leave earlier, but they saw a flash of light, and thought there were more aliens coming. As they scanned near the source of the flash, one of them spotted a girl who was unconscious, but was completely untouched from the debris and dust around them.

“JARVIS check vitals.” Tony Stark stated.

“Vitals are normal sir.” Tony’s computer system, JARVIS, stated.

“We should send her with Fury. Have them contain her in case she is not human.” Tony suggested to the others.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. What if she is just human, and she wakes up with people watching her. That could be terrifying.” Steve stated.

“I agree with Steve. You never know what she really is. Come on let’s just take her back to the tower, and wait till she wakes up.” Natasha stated.

“That won’t be necessary. S.H.I.E.L.D. has taken upon itself to monitor her in Washington. If she is human, we will figure out how the hell she got here. We have targeted the source of energy, and it isn’t like anything we’ve ever seen, but she seems human.”

“Told ya Cap.”

“Fury, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea sir.”

“It is, if I say it is. You are welcome to escort her if you want Captain.”

“No thanks, but I do want a call if she wakes up. No experimenting.”

“Did he just tell Fury what to do?” Clint whispered to Natasha.

“Yep.”

“Fine. She wakes up, you’ll be the first contact.”

Steve just nods and walks off. He didn’t know why he was taking this so personally. Wasn’t like he knew her, but something about her said she has already been through a lot. He couldn’t risk her being questioned, and overwhelmed.

“Will she get the proper medical treatment she needs?” Tony asked as he carried the girl to where Fury’s helicopter was.

“Now you’re worried about the girl? She’s not staying here, if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

“I’m just making sure that she is treated like a human until she is proven not to be.”

“Let me guess you want a call too when she’s awake?”

“No. Sending Cap in will overwhelm her enough. I just want to know if you determine human or other worldly.” Tony said, laying her inside the helicopter, as Agent Hill straps her down in a gurney.

“Fine,” Fury walked to the pilot’s seat, “man you’d think they knew her or something.” Fury mumbled, taking off.

Tony walked back to meet the others, who were all sitting around waiting for him. They all sat in silence for a bit. Everyone could tell they all had something to say about the girl that just randomly showed up out of, seemingly, thin air.

“Fury said she’ll get the proper treatment she needs until she wakes up and they can figure out her story. Figure out where she came from.”

“That’s good. Maybe she really is just a human, who just happens to be super lucky?” Natasha suggests, not very convincingly.

“We all know that isn’t very likely.”

“Barton’s right. She is the only explanation of the flash of light. It explains how she was almost completely clean. She had no other injuries, so she most likely bonked her head on entry, and that explains why she was passed out cold.” Tony stated, trying to sound rational.

“Look, if she is human, we can’t overwhelm her with questions. Imagine how she would feel. She may not be able to think straight and tell us something that she doesn’t mean. One of us has to go and be there with her. Make sure she isn’t overwhelmed by all the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.”

“Glad you already volunteered yourself Cap.”

“Someone had to. If not me, then who?”

“I think you’re the perfect one to do it Rogers. You have that welcoming look to you.” Natasha spoke up.

“I agree with Nat.” Clint spoke.

Everyone was in agreement. Steve was the best person for the job, but Tony wasn’t very pleased, he wanted to make sure that no one got hurt. He would have volunteered had Steve not done so already. He couldn’t risk losing anyone to whatever she could be.

Reader POV:

I don’t remember what happened, but the next thing I knew when I opened my eyes was that I was in a hospital. This was unusual for Sam and Dean. We always treated our injuries at the bunker before we resorted to going to a hospital, but this place wasn’t anywhere that I recognized.

I heard voices talking outside, but I just played it off as the doctors and nurses talking about what happened to me. I saw a blonde haired man out of the corner of my eyes, and thought that maybe the voices were Sam and Cas.

“Dean?”

The man looked over at me, “no. My name is Steve. I’m part of the team that rescued you.”

“R-rescued? Where am I? Where are my brothers?”

“Hey calm down, it’s okay. You’re in a hospital in Washington D.C. We found you in the streets of New York after an alien invasion. As far as your brothers, we didn’t know whether you were human or not.”

“That better explains the restraints. Are you sure I’m not being arrested?”

“Is there a reason you should be arrested?”

“No. Just saying this is a lot like what they do to people who are hurt who they are arresting.”

“They usually handcuff, and use restraints, but guess that proves you’re human.”

“Yes I’m human, how did I get to New York, the D.C. from Kansas.”

“Where in Kansas do you live?”

“Lebanon, with my brothers Sam, and Dean Winchester.”

“Okay. It’ll be okay. We’ll find your brothers. We’ll get you home. We don’t know how you got to New York, we saw a flash of light, and there you were untouched by all the debris, and you had no other injuries, other than you were unconscious.”

“Then the portal kind of worked.”

“What portal?”

“I found a spell in a book to create a rift in reality. My mom is trapped in another version of our world, but we haven’t been able to find something that works. Until now, sort of. It took me to New York, but it possibly proves that with a little tweaking, we can get our mom back.”

“I’m sorry about your mom, but that doesn’t explain why we can’t find you in any system.”

“Well you kind of need my name for that don’t you?”

“Not with facial recognition.”

“That is advanced technology, and they only use it for criminals. Unless you were lying about me not being arrested.”

“No, you’re not being arrested. What is your name then so maybe we can properly identify you.”

“My name is Y/n Winchester. I grew up in Lawrence, Kansas, and have been all over the country,” I shake my head at what I just said, “I shouldn't have said any of that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m wanted for murder. A crime I didn't commit, but I can’t prove that i didn’t because you wouldn’t believe me.”

“She isn’t anything Captain Rogers. She’s just human. But the thing is, Miss Winchester, we don’t have anything on you. No date of birth, no address, no nothing.” A man with an eye patch announced, as he walked in.

“My name is Y/n Winchester, I live in Lebanon, Kansas, I was born October 13, 1981. My parents are Mary and John Winchester. I have two brothers named Dean and Sam. Dean was born on January 24, 1979. Sam was born on May 2, 1983. My brothers, and I live in Lebanon. Please, please, you have to believe me.”

“Y/n, I believe you, but it doesn’t make any sense how you are here, but it’s like you don’t exist.”

“What year is this?”

“2012?”

“May I ask your names? And where you’re from?”

“I’m Steve Rogers. I’m from Brooklyn.”

“Nick Fury. And that’s classified.” The man in the eye patch stated. He seemed very secretive, and I didn’t understand why. Guess he didn’t trust me. Which was fair.

“So Steve, Brooklyn. When were you born.”

“That is also classified.” Nick Fury said.

“So many secrets.”

“I don’t want you to get overwhelmed.”

“If you knew my field of work you would know that I don’t get overwhelmed easily. My grandfather came from 1958 through a closet in our motel room. I saw my mom’s father be resurrected. I’ve seen my brothers die and come back as if nothing happened. Whatever you have to say , it won't shock me.”

“Fine. I was born July 4, 1918.”

“Wow. I mean it isn;t impossible, but I’ve never heard of a human staying alive for that long.”

“Look, I know you two want to chat about how it’s possible for the captain to have survived so long, but we need you two. Steve, I want you to train her.”

“What? Train me for what?”

“You’re not serious about this.”

“Dead serious captain. I’ll let Stark know that you have taken on this task, and that he has nothing to worry about.”

I sat there looking between the two men. I wasn’t going to be trained like a circus monkey. Whoever these men were, they were very odd, yet oddly familiar. I began to struggle in my restraints to get them to loosen up.

“Help her out of those, I fear we have a lot of work to do.”

Steve nods and comes to help me. As soons as my first hand was free, I landed a punch to his face. I loosened my other hand and began running. I ran into a bathroom and changed into my clothes. I had to get out of there, but just when I thought the coast was clear, I ran into a group of guards, and they dragged me out to a car. This was it. I was probably actually going to jail now.

We pulled up to a big building, and they let me out. I was surprised they actually trusted me to not run off this time. The men make a circle formation to probably make sure I don’t take off again. They lead me to a big open room, and they guard the door. I look around seeing if maybe Nick Fury, or Steve, were in the room. I noticed a man at the far corner window in the room looking out. I looked back at the guards thinking maybe they left a hole for me to escape.

“Don’t even try. They will kill you if I order them to, so don’t even think about trying to escape.”

“Who are you?”

He turns to face me, “My name is Alexander Pierce. I’m the director here at S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Isn’t that the thing that you use to protect yourself from enemy attacks?”

“Yes, but this organization is called S.H.I.E.L.D. It stands for…”

“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.” Nick Fury interrupted.

“Thanks for that Nick. I just wanted to meet the girl that the whole world is talking about.”

“Because of how you came to this world. It wasn’t natural.” Alexander Pierce said.

“Nothing in my life is natural. What makes this situation any different. The fact that it’s like I don’t even exist is unnatural.”

“We were able to locate the bunker in Lebanon, but there was no sign of anyone having ever lived there. It’s an old storage warehouse.” Nick Fury stated.

“Did you go inside?” I asked no believing him.

“I didn’t, but my men did. All they reported was cobwebs, and boxes that were filled with old machinery parts.”

“That’s not possible. I mean maybe the men of letters bunker might be a little dirty, but there should be something there. I mean Sam and Dean wouldn’t have found it yet, but there has to be something.”

“Men of Letters?”

“Um, they are an organization that is made of men who help protect society from threats, but no one really ever knows about them. It’s a lot safer that way.”

“We aren’t aware of any group out there like that.” Mr. Peirce spoke immediately.

“That’s kind of the point, but they were killed off back in the 50s. So, there is no one left to carry the legacy other than me and my brothers.”

“I think we should get her settled in. Get her a place set up where she can rest and gain her thoughts.” Nick Fury said, pushing me gently towards the door guarded by the men.

“Why the rush? I think she should be able to get a tour of the facility.”

“If she wants a tour, Steve Rogers can show her around. I don’t think anyone other than an Avenger should be escorting her around outside of her apartment.”

“Alright. I guess you have a point.” Mr. Pierce didn’t seem too happy about that decision.

“Mr. Rogers will show you to your place. It’s all set up for you. He has the key for you.” Nick Fury stated, ignoring Pierce.

“Thank you. I hope we get all of this straightened out soon. I don’t want to be a bother to anyone, or cause any more trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. Trust me, and we could use someone with your spunk.”

“Because I did. I'm trying to learn how people talk nowadays. It was that obvious though, huh?”

“Just a little. What do you mean how people talk nowadays? What are you like a hundred?”

“Pretty close. Like 94.”

“I was kidding.”

“Wish I was.”

“This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

Steve and I walk out of the building, and he leads the way to where I would be staying. It was a tiny little apartment complex, but it looked cozy. This was where my comfort level was. In tiny cramped spaces that seemed like they wouldn't be big enough for one, but you fit 4.

“I'm on the floor just above you, so if you need anything, or just need a friend, you can come find me.” Steve smiled.

“Thank you. That's very kind of you.” He nods and goes to walk away, “Steve?”

“Yes?”

“Will you tell me how you look so young? What's your secret?”

“Super soldier serum, and being frozen in ice for 70 years.”

“I see. Very interesting combination.”

“I didn’t mean to completely catch you off guard with that.” Steve apologised.

“Don’t apologise. If you heard what I dealt with on an almost daily basis, then you would know that is not the weirdest thing, or most bizarre thing I have ever heard.”

“Good. Now go get some sleep. Fury wants to see how you train. He wants to see what makes you special.”

“Nothing. There’s your answer. I’m not special, the life I believed I lived for so long is no longer. My brothers somehow don’t exist, and I’m stuck here. I wish Cas was here right now. He would know what to do.”

“He was my boyfriend. He may go by another name, he used to be known as Jimmy Novak?”

“I’ll see what I can find, but I think you should rest.”

“Goodnight Steve.”

“Night.”

Steve walked out, and I shut the door behind him. I wasn’t used to such a nice place to live in, but here I was. Sam and Dean would have been so jealous if they saw this place. I really missed them, and I wish they were here with me. I didn’t get the chance to fix things between me and Dean, but I guess I did tell Cas I was okay if the portal closed behind me. At least I would be one step closer to finding our mom, and getting her back.

The next morning I woke up, and hoped that all of it was just a bad dream. That I had never opened that stupid portal in the first place, but alas, that was not the case. I trudged out of bed, and was going to take a shower when I heard knocking on my door.

“Y/n, it’s Steve.”

“Hold on. I’m coming.” I yelled/loudly talked back. I walked to the door and opened it letting him inside.

“I would have thought you have been up and dressed by now.”

“I would have, but I needed my beauty sleep, and time to process all of this.”

“Well, I have some good news for you, we found this Jimmy Novak guy. Fury tracked him down.”

“I really appreciate that Steve, but let me guess, he has a family.”

“That was going to be the bad news.”

“Look I really appreciate you trying, but even if Jimmy didn’t have anyone, it wouldn’t be the same.”

“Look, Fury gave me permission to take you to Lebanon to see that bunker you were talking about.”

“That would be nice. I want to see for myself that what he said he saw was truly nothing. I mean I know it probably is that way, but I have to see for myself. I have to know that my brothers truly don’t exist in this world.”

“Go and get ready. I’ll meet you downstairs when you’re ready, okay?”

“Sounds good. Thank you so much Steve.”

“Of course. I want to bring you peace for whatever is going on. I just want to help. I want to be a friend to you.”

“You have really proved that Steve. Let me go get ready, I’ll be down in an hour okay?”

“Sounds good.” He smiles, and sees himself out.

I go and take a shower quickly and dress in some of the clothes that Fury, or Steve, must have bought while I was still in the hospital. He was a really nice guy, and I really appreciated everything he has done for me. It just felt so weird to be in a place that didn’t have my brothers in it.

I got dressed quickly, and headed downstairs to meet Steve. He was standing outside in front of a nice sedan. Nicer than any car I have been in other than the back of a police car. Though, the Impala was a nice car, it still had that old timey feel which I guess is why Dean liked it so much.

“You ready?” Steve asked, opening the passenger side door for me.

“As I’ll ever be.” I smiled, and climbed in.

Steve got in the driver’s side, and started the car. He drove off heading to Kansas. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared that I wouldn’t find any answers about whether or not the Men of Letters actually existed. I didn’ know what I would do if the life I lived before waking up in that hospital was gone. I guess I would just have to wait and see.

#marvelfluffbingo2021 #spnfluffbingo2021 #dean x sister!reader #sam x sister!reader #bucky x reader #steve x reader #castiel x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #bucky barnes #steve rogers #castiel #natasha romanoff #tony stark #bruce banner #clint barton #thor #the black dove

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kilyra · 4 years

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Eric Northman (True Blood) One-Shot

A/N: Well, absolutely no one directly requested this, but I’m carrying on with the Eric Northman arc because...I wanna - so this is following “You Will”, “You Did, Sweetheart”, “You a Fangbanger, now?”, and “You Shouldn’t Have Come”

Training with Jason Stackhouse leaves you pretty banged up, a fact Eric is not happy about when he shows up to find you on heavy drugs for the pain.

Warnings: Racy bits kinda, bit of gore I guess, alluding to events in the show. But not out and out spoilers. (I myself am only on S3 or 4, so this is an early Eric style fic…also, please don’t send me any spoilers).

If you want to be on my tag lists, (all or just a character) just let me know! (Credit for this amazing gif goes to @bonniebird. Thank you SO much!)

The pain meds were strong. Knowing Jason got them from Lafayette, you didn't ask many questions so all you really had were the basics – don't drive and don't mix with alcohol. That, and they were guaranteed to let you breathe a little easier without the throbbing and sometimes stabbing pain shooting down your side.

It wasn't until after taking a couple and immediately being hit with a wall of unstoppable drowsiness that you realized just how strong they were. But at least you weren't in pain. You may not be forced to see a doctor after all.

Focusing was impossible, but you didn't mind staring blankly at the TV and zoning out. It was better than flinching every time you moved. As you sank into the couch, letting the waves of relaxation take over, you eventually became aware that something seemed different. A breeze maybe? Did something shift? Not that it really mattered but...

Slowly, your eyes drifted to the couch beside you and you were vaguely aware there was a set of legs. Which was odd. There wasn't usually legs beside you. With effort, you followed the legs up to see Eric Northman perched on the back of your couch, passively staring down at you.

Apparently, the pills were not only strong, but they had completely knocked you out.

“Huh, well I didn't expect that.” Smiling to yourself, you let out a soft chuckle.

Eric's eyebrows creased at your greeting before swiftly falling back into place. His eyes swept over you like he was trying to figure out what he missed, but his features stayed neutral. “Yes, well, I thought it was time to have a talk about what happened at Fangtasia.”

His velvety voice was flat and unimpressed, but your heart still fluttered as it reached your ears. Although some of your dreams have started with conversations, it was a little surprising that he wanted to talk. “Is that what you thought?”

Pulling his gaze away, he focused on his dark pants, absently picking at something that you couldn't see. To be fair, focusing on something as small as a bit of fluff was next to impossible since everything seemed to have blurred edges anyhow.

“Pam did, actually. And I got tired of arguing with her about it.”

There was something oddly sensual about how he pinched at the loose thread, his nimble fingers making short work of what irritated him. Lightly biting your lip, you suddenly wanted those fingers on your skin, skilfully giving your body the attention he was wasting on fabric.

And why not? It was your dream after all.

Lightly humming a reply, you shifted your weight so you were facing the pale vampire. Taking your time, you let your gaze wander over his body. His shirt clung to him so perfectly that you could see his muscular physique almost as clearly as if he were naked. Almost.

As your eyes floated up to his, you saw he was carefully staring at you with a sidelong glance as though he didn't want to bring too much attention to the fact he was watching you. But his ice-cold eyes were so piercing, it was impossible to not be drawn in. Were they that stunning in real life, or was your mind adding that?

Tilting his head, he studied you more obviously and pulled you from your stupor. Offering a lazy smile, you shrugged playfully. “And why would Pam insist on you talking to me, hmm?”

Sighing, he smoothed his hand over the spot he had been picking at and straightened. He broke your eye contact to stare across the room before he spoke. “According to her, ever since you defended me to your roommate I-”

You hadn't expected him to actually continue talking. Normally, in your dreams, he would have responded by sliding off the back of the couch, smoothly claiming your mouth with his as he wrapped his arms around you in an unyielding embrace. Warmth was already spreading through you at the mere thought of him holding you possessively and pressing himself against you as he eased you back onto the cushions...

But instead, he was talking. Still.

Reaching over, you set your hand on his knee and, to your surprise, his words sputtered to a stop.

Clearing his throat, he tried to continue even though you already missed half of what he said. “...And while I don't exactly agree, she mi-”

Running your tongue over your lip, you circled your fingers over the top of his leg and stared up at him through your eyelashes. You couldn't help your smirk when his words suddenly died out again and his eyes darted to your hand.

The corner of his mouth tugged downward in a faint frown as his eyebrows quickly dipped low before settling back into his usual blank expression. “What...are you doing?”

Your dreams had never had so much lead-up before and you had to admit, it was a little fun to toy with him. Using him for support, you pulled yourself forward, getting your legs under you. Easing yourself closer, you were only mildly surprised when his knees opened wider with very little coaxing. Watching you with curious eyes, he gave in to your touch without resistance. You doubted the real Eric would ever let you direct him so easily, allowing you to sit up on your knees between his legs.

Although to be fair, you'd never do anything like that with the real Eric anyhow...

“I'm listening, is what I'm doing. To what I'm sure will be a lecture that I can't seem to escape even in my dreams," you finally replied with an air of smugness as you sidestepped his question.

“A lecture? In your...dreams?” His words were only slightly hesitant as he forced his stare up from your hands to meet your eyes. You thought you saw a heavy swallow, but he gave no other indication of being caught off-guard.

As you spoke, you started massaging your fingers along his thigh, steadily moving them higher. Your fingertips dug into the fabric of his pants and you distantly wondered if he even really felt the pressure. “You know, about how I can't go to Fangtasia like I did. How it's not safe for me there.”

His eyes dropped to your hands one last time before slowly dragging up your body and finally, the ice in his eyes seemed to melt. The slight change in his gaze sent a spark through your chest and down your limbs as you gripped his leg tighter.

A smile slowly etched its way onto his lips as his moment of confusion seemed to pass. When he spoke, there was an undeniable purr to his tone. “Mmm, well I suppose part of that is true. You can't go there, not like you did.”

“Not like I did? And how should I be going there?” Your breath hitched as he seemed to finally get on the same page as you. Letting your wandering hands settle on his hips, your heart jumped as his fingers traced their way along your arms. If this was like any dream before, it would only be seconds until he stopped with the pretenses and pulled you in close. Your whole body hummed in anticipation.

Instead, his hands came to rest on the sides of your shoulders as his eyes narrowed slightly. Leaning forward, his face was inches from yours as his lips curled back in a wicked grin. With a flick of his wrist, his hand shot up from your shoulder to grip your hair, holding you in place. “As mine.”

A sharp gasp ripped from your throat as a cold rush raced through you. But it only added to the flame in your core. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you ran your hands up, under his shirt and let your nails graze his skin as you pulled yourself closer.

Quietly, a dull pain that started swimming in from the edges of your mind protested the movement. But you were far too distracted.

With a growl, he brought his face almost close enough to kiss but paused, his eyes scanning your face as though he were looking for answers. Your hand flexed from the torture of denial, digging your nails into his skin. His grip on your hair tightened and you found yourself pressing your thighs together, trying not to squirm under his grasp. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you nodded. “Yes..y-yours.”

His growl grew deeper as he closed the gap, his lips hungrily seeking you. Within seconds, his tongue dominated yours, not that you put up a fight, your lips willingly parted for him. Moaning into his mouth, you easily gave up any false idea of control, letting yourself fall into the haze of his passionate kiss as he held you in place. Under his shirt, your hand ran up his muscled torso, resting against his solid chest. Taking your hint, he pulled away and quickly yanked his shirt over his head, tossing somewhere in the room before finding your lips again.

As your hand traced further up his body, you quickly nestled your fingers in his hair. Your pulse was racing so wildly you were glad you didn't have to try and stand as you kept your balance by tightly clinging to the Adonis in your arms.

Subtly he shifted, dancing his free hand along the small of your back as he tugged your hair, forcefully breaking the kiss. Gasping, you didn't have time to mourn the loss before he dropped his head to the crook of your neck. His teeth grazed your skin as you felt him sucking a dark mark into you. Had you been awake, you would have been terrified that he was about to bite you but...since it was just a dream...the thought was shamefully exciting. Letting your face nestle against his neck, you relished the idea that, at any second, his teeth could pierce flesh and he would truly claim you as his.

Drawing the moment out, his bites were firm but not enough to break skin, quickly followed by his tongue swirling along your neck. Burrowing your face against him, you quietly moaned, enjoying the cool woodsy scent that seemed to float up around you.

As he tucked you against him, gently devouring your neck, his hand trailed down your body seeking the bare skin of your leg. A deep throbbing turned into an ache and you desperately wanted your legs wrapped around his waist, letting you grind against him for a breath of relief. Like in so many dreams before.

But as his fingers pressed into your leg, screaming pain shot through you with such force, your stomach lurched and black stars danced across your vision.

Crying out, your body went rigid except for the instinctive flinch of your leg in an attempt to pull away. Dropping your hand, you moved to slap him back but as you wrenched yourself, more agony ripped through your torso, completely stealing your breath.

You suspected before that a rib had slipped out of place, but as you were blinded by white bursts from each breath, you realized it might be broken. And the pain meds were already apparently wearing off with the rush of adrenaline.

It didn't occur to you that dreams weren't ever so painful...

Letting your hair loose, Eric continued to cup your scalp as a deep furrow formed in his forehead.

“I'm fine...it's nothing.” It tumbled out through grit teeth before you could even question why you lied.

The muscles along his cheek popped as his jaw clenched. His nose flared slightly, the only warning you had before his hands clenched around the back of your head, holding you in place again. Hissing, you tried to slip out of his grasp, but it only brought more pain as he drew his hand along your leg, pulling up the bottom of your shorts.

It seemed impossible, but his body tensed even more as he exposed the large, deep bruise that covered most of your upper thigh. Pulling them up until they drew tight, it was obvious the bruise went higher than he could see with the shorts still on. As you grimaced from the pressure, he let the fabric slip from his fingers before grasping the edge of your top.

He was determined to see just how high it went.

As he lifted the back of your shirt with surprising gentleness, you focused on your shallow breathing. The last time you looked in the mirror, you saw the bruises that covered most of your side were almost black and accompanied by a long set of deep scrapes starting near your spine and fanning out to the side of your ribcage. And you doubted it looked any better now.

Straightening, he looked deep in your eyes, not masking the quiet fury that laid deep in his stare. “Who did this?”

“No one,” you said quietly, trying not to shrink away.

“Do not make me glamour you.” His stony expression hadn't changed, but his voice dropped dangerously low.

Swallowing heavily, you fought to keep from snapping your eyes shut. Forcing a hard exhale through your nose, you pushed out each word until it got easier. “No one, alright? Jason Stackhouse was there, but I just fell off an obstacle course and hit pretty much every piece of equipment on the way down.”

For a moment, his eyes silently studied your face as though he were trying to decide if you were lying. Finally, his eyebrow flicked upwards in faint quirk. “And what were you two doing on an obstacle course to begin with?”

Immediately, your pulse spiked and you felt heat rush to your cheeks. You didn't owe him an explanation, but you did throw Jason's name out there and that suddenly felt like a bad move. But it had to be better than what you might say if you were glamoured...right?

“You were right, you know...at Fangtasia? There are things I can do to protect myself and I had heard a bit about Jason's time in Dallas so-”

Eric's sudden scoff cut you off cold. When he spoke, there was a new hardness in his tone and you knew you crossed some invisible line. “Right. And those? Did those come from him too?”

Both his eyebrows lifted, gesturing past you and without looking back, you knew he was talking about the painkillers sitting out on the coffee table. Desperately trying to keep your breathing calm as you looked up at him, you shrugged. You didn't want to give him another name. “I don't...know where he got them.”

“I think we both know it's pretty obvious, sweetheart. But what matters is, you should have come to me with this.” He spoke with a dismissive tone as he freed his grip on you.

His mood swing threw your rush of adrenaline into confusion. The bewilderment that dropped over you was so thick, and likely still drug-ladened, that you didn’t even try to move away from him even though he had set his hand down on his knee. There was simply no desire to put space between you and being tucked between his knees somehow made you feel protected. Even if he did scare you.

“I...I should...come to you for pain meds...or...?”

There was no hint of humour on his face as he continued. "Both. I can better teach you to defend yourself against my kind, more so than Stackhouse ever could. But especially for your injuries. I can't have you walking around like this, it's embarrassing.”

“...Embarrassing?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you echoed him, trying to piece together what he was talking about.

“Yes. Since I had to publicly declare you as mine, there is a certain standard to uphold. And having my human limping around, half-broken is simply unacceptable.” His silky voice contrasted the insulting words as he brought his wrist up to his lips.

Your stomach flipped as he snarled, giving you the perfect view as his fangs dropped. Without hesitation, he bit into his own flesh and you were too stunned to back away. But you should have.

Eric's lips were glittering red as he pulled back and ran his tongue over them. Holding his wrist out to you, his speech was slightly different as he spoke through his fangs. “Drink.”

Horrified, you followed his gaze down to his arm and the blood slowly bubbling from his punctures. Finally flinching back, you felt the dull pain of your side roar to life as your heart thudded against your chest.

Before you could back off the couch, his arms were a blur as he grabbed your hair and forced your head to turn. Your repeated chorus of no, meant nothing as his arm wrapped around you and forced you to spin on your knees until you were facing away from him. Soon, you were trapped between his chest and his wrist that he pressed to your mouth.

Keeping your lips tightly closed, you felt them grow slick with his blood. Jerking away, your head met his collarbone and you had nowhere left to go as his arm pressed against you with more pressure. Whimpering a pitiful cry, your hands dug into his thighs as you tried to push yourself away. But all you did was brace your back against his chest. It was useless. He had you clamped against him, utterly immobilized.

“I'm helping you, don't waste it.” His voice carried the weariness of an exhausted parent dealing with a petulant child. As he sighed, he twisted his wrist enough to force an opening between your bruised lips.

As the copper taste flooded your mouth, your gut clenched and trying to take a breath through your nose didn't help.

You were going to vomit.

But just as the warm blood trickled down the back of your throat, something changed. On a primal level, your disgust turned to need. Squeezing Eric's thighs to brace yourself, you tried to process what was happening, but everything was moving too fast. You needed his blood like you needed air and your body greedily gulped it back. On its own, one hand lifted from his knee to clasp around his wrist as if you could hold him there.

“Good girl,” Eric cooed in your ear as he brushed your hair back from your face. A shiver ran down your spine at his praise and you found yourself writhing, trying to grind against him even though you were in too awkward of a position to be successful.

Staring out into the room, you noticed everything grow sharper as your heartbeat steadied. The fog of the painkillers dissipated as a new energy vibrated its way through your chest and yet the pain didn't return. There was a faint hint of discomfort remaining, but you could feel it recede like the tide. It was a renewal like you had never experienced. And you wanted more.

Gently resting his hand on your forehead, he kept you against his chest as he pulled his wrist away. Another whine escaped your throat and was met with a soft chuckle. “No, now trust me, that's enough.”

Twisting around to face him, you frowned, ready to protest more. Before you could, he silenced you with a fleeting smile before he wiped his fingertip along your chin. Holding up his hand, you saw the wasted blood and, without hesitation, you leaned forward and took his fingers in your mouth. His lips parted slightly as he watched you suck and eagerly sweep your tongue over his skin. Keeping your eyes glued to his, you suddenly didn't care what horror had just taken place...you just wanted to pick up where you had left off. You wanted him.

And then your phone rang.

As the loud ringtone cut through the moment, your floating sensation came crashing down around you. What was going on? What had Eric done to you?

Blinking, you retreated, leaving his clean fingers outstretched for a moment until he gripped the back of the couch. A soft frown touched his lips as his eyes darted to the screen phone.

“It seems Stackhouse at least has a conscious about the damage he's done,” Eric said flatly.

Everything was clear. Too clear. The whole evening flashed before you and a growing realization became too loud to ignore. “This...this isn't a dream, is it?”

His eyebrows faintly arched before his face fell. It was slight, but the muscles twitched around the corners of his mouth and his eyes grew dull as they looked past you to settle on the pill bottle. "A...dream. Right. It seems that Lafayette broke out the good stuff."

Pulling your hands to your chest, you didn't stop him as he swung a leg off the back of the couch. As he stood with ease, you were reminded again of just how big he was as he towered over you, but somehow it didn't scare you this time. Blinking rapidly and trying to ignore the sense of loss of that descended as he moved away, you failed to stop your eyes from trailing over his still-bare chest. His sculpted muscles were pale perfection and you couldn't help your stare as he leaned down and smoothly swiped his shirt from the floor.

Once he tugged it down over his head, he nodded towards the phone on the coffee table. “You'd better answer. You wouldn't want to keep your hero waiting.”

Although he said it lightly, as though he were cracking a joke, your stomach knotted. You knew if you didn't answer, Jason would turn up at the door and you weren't done trying to sort out what just happened. Pinching your lips together in a tight line as another shrill ring broke the silence, you finally glanced down at the phone.

And by the time you looked back up, Eric was gone.

Taglist: @foreverfaeries @flower-two @getlostinyourparadise @selfishkiddo @angelicshinigami @parkersbabey @thatchampagnebitch @mysteryoflovve @edweirdoddlepot @divadinag @crazy-fandom-girl1 @givemeabite @breanime @shondlenoodle @hermionesalvatore84 @dyingformyships @dreamers-wonderland @adriellej @sherrybaby14

#eric northman x reader #eric x reader #true blood #eric northman

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miracul0us-multishipper · 5 years

Text

Welcome to the back (Part 15)

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

- - -

Adrien had never felt this afraid. He‘d been in this building countless times before, as both Adrien and Chat Noir, but he’d either been guided or had simply followed his Lady’s lead. Now he wished he’d paid more attention to the the layout of the building.

He had reached the main studio a minute after the ads had started - this place was a maze! - just to find all his friends gone already. A confirmation of his worst fears. They were up to something!

He had to find Lila! She could get them out of this mess, she knew how to talk her way to safety. If she were to be exposed... Earlier that week, it had only been their class’s harmony that had been at stake.

Now, she would take Adrien down with her. What had he been thinking? Why had he helped her, why had he lied for her? He’d only made everything worse! Damnit, Marinette had been right. This was his own fault- Marinette!

His thoughts returned to their encounter earlier, and he ran even faster, searching for the others. He needed to find her. How she had gotten her hands on his Miraculous, he didn’t know, but the fact it was inactive and on a string meant that she wasn’t using it - yet. Maybe she was simply waiting for the right time to steal his place. He growled and ripped another door open, revealing the room behind it to be empty.

Marinette wasn’t fit to be Chat Noir. She didn’t have what it took to be Ladybug’s partner, and she hadn’t deserved his miraculous like he did! He would convince her to give it back. Marinette wasn’t unreasonable, she’d understand. And she had liked him, Lila had told him once. Maybe if he promised to be a better friend now, maybe even go out together, she’d realize this was his destiny.

His thoughts began to spiral down a slippery slope. He needed Plagg, needed his miraculous. He’d do everything that was necessary, for Paris’ sake, for Ladybug’s sake!

But no need to do something rash, he’d try it the nice way!

Adrien knew this would work.

Adrien knew that it had to.

Adrien-

“...really is a bitch.”, a familiar, although muffled voice declared from somewhere in front of him. Felix! With his last bit of strength, Adrien pushed the doors to Jagged Stone’s studio open. His eyes widened when he saw what had happened.

He was... too late.

Lila stood in the middle of the room, together with Felix and a man he didn’t recognize, even though he looked vaguely familiar. She was frozen in fear, and she had every right to. There were cameras pointed at her from every side, and her classmates stood at the walls like angry bulls. Jagged Stone was patting a smugly grinning Marinette on the shoulder, and Nadja Chamack held a microphone out to the unknown man.

“This is Nadja Chamack, life from the TV tower, 21st arrondissement!”, she almost screamed into her microphone in excitement. “We just witnessed Chief Editor René Bordeaux admitting to have actively and willingly spread false accusations about an aspiring designer, specifically to harm her career. Will you give us a statement about your conspiring with a minor in order to blackmail your son, famous model Felix Leanne?”

The man - René Bordeaux, he remembered him from the fashion show, now! - backed away, arms raising to simultaneously hide his face and gesture through the air

“Y-You’re not allowed to publish that!”, he yelled at her, panic and wrath merging his voice into a shrill shout. “I have not consented to any interviews! As your superior, I order you to stop!”

“Actually, since you are a public figure and I am a journalist investigating your case of corruption, everything that has just been published is perfectly legal.”, Nadja informed him with a wink. “And it doesn’t look like your position as my superior will last much longer.”

”Also, since Lila has signed a declaration of consent just this morning,” Alya chimed in, holding up a document, “she’s fair game as well! Maybe you should’ve read the damn thing, Liar.”

Lila was only now recovering from the shock.

“Y-You guys did so great!”, she tried to fake a smile. “We finally busted that evil producer! I knew you were there, of course, I was just acting to make him spill his deeds-“

“Oh, shut up.”, Felix rolled his eyes at her and walked over to Marinette. “It’s game over for you, so save your excuses!”

Tears welled up in Lila’s eyes, and this time Adrien actually believed they were real.

“I-It wasn’t my idea! He forced me to, René Bordeaux forced me to help him!”

“I deny any involvement in this affair! I want to speak to my lawyers!”

“Come on, guys, you know me! I-I did so much for you, didn’t I?”, Lila whined on. That’s when she spotted him in the door.

“Adrien!”, she all but sobbed. “Tell them! Tell them I’m innocent; I’m the g-good guy!”

He backed away, wishing she hadn’t brought him up. Now the others had noticed him too.

“Is it true what she said?”, Nino said, brows furrowed in frustration. “You knew everything? And you just... did nothing?!”

“What the hell, Adrien?!”, Chloé spat, towering over him like a hawk. “I thought I was the jerk between the two of us!”

He fell to his knees, exhaustion catching up with him. His legs were wobbly of shock.

“No! No, I... I only wanted... I was just trying to protect you!”

“Protect us?”, Alya snarled. “By leaving us at Lila’s mercy, completely unprepared?! I uploaded a shit ton of fake news on my blog thanks to her! If it hadn’t been for Marinette, this could’ve ruined my entire career!”

“I thought we were friends, dude!”, Nino agreed, looking as betrayed as Adrien felt. “But friends don’t lie to each other! And you sure don’t help others with lying to your bro!”

No, no! This couldn’t be happening, no! Not like this, not now, not him!

“Please...”, he whispered, his hand clutching around the lucky charm in his pocket. “I wasn’t... Lila just...”

He couldn’t think of any excuse that wouldn’t sound hollow now. His friends didn’t care as they turned back to Lila, ignoring his slumped figure on the floor as they continued their petty fight.

Adrien didn’t listen to them, too busy with his own despair. He had... failed. At everything.

At being a good friend in the first place. At being there for Ladybug. And now at stopping Marinette from exposing Lila. Everything he did went wrong, everything he put his mind to-

“Cathexis”, a deep voice called and a purple glow illuminated the darkness of his mind. “I am Hawkmoth.”

Adrien froze. The lucky charm beneath his fingers had grown cold, and he couldn’t lift a finger to throw it away. Its cool prickle travelled up his wrist, his arm, into every cell of his body.

“I will give you the power you need to achieve your goals.”, Hawkmoth whispered into his head. “To keep your loved ones close, and your enemies even closer.”

No. No, he was a hero. He couldn’t let himself be turned into another one of Hawkmoth’s monsters.

“You’ve been wronged, haven’t you?”, Hawkmoth continued sweetly. “Ah, you have tried so hard, yet they keep ignoring your advice.”

His fight with Marinette flashed through his mind.

“Rejecting you, even though you have done so much.”

Ladybug pushing him away, again and again and again.

“If they cannot listen...”

Lila had continued to lie, Marinette had kept on plotting against her, Felix just wouldn’t stop being rude...

“...they must feel.”

Adrien’s head lowered and his lips moved on their own, whispering a word he didn’t mean.

“Yes, Hawkmoth.”

His eyes closed as the purple smoke covered him entirely.

“I will reign them in.”

Cathexis smiled.

“And be the hero they deserve.”

“You did it.”, Felix beamed at Marinette and pulled her aside. “I don’t know how, but you did it.”

How had she gotten everyone involved? Their oh-so skeptical class, Nadja Chamack, even Jagged Stone! It seemed impossible, but she had succeeded. He was free, from his father’s lingering shadow and Rossi’s obsessive manipulations. Free, once and for all.

“Of course I did!”, she played it off, cheeks as pink as Rose’s shirt. “I promised you, didn’t I? Besides...”

Her eyes wandered to her classmates.

“It was more of a group effort.”

Felix followed her gaze to the others, who were gathered in the middle of the room. Alya eagerly assisted Madame Chamack in pestering Bordeaux with one cutting question after the other, Nino cheered her on. Chloé led the others in their rage against Lila, who had started to spout every lousy excuse in the book. Sabrina was calling her father at the Police to arrest Bordeaux, who would have a hard time getting out of this one. Juleka and Jagged Stone were comparing the hues of their hair dye, Rose being their obviously biased judge. They were chaotic and loud and ruthless and absolutely amazing.

“I guess I should thank them.”, he said, a smile creeping onto his face. “They’re not so bad, after all.”

Yes. Annoying maybe, but full of loyalty and love for their friends. For Marinette, and after some time, perhaps even for him.

“Still”, he insisted, not here for Marinette not giving herself enough credit. “You are the best. How do you want me to repay you? I could invite you for dinner!”

She shook her head, smiling ironically.

“I think we are past favors and debts, aren’t we?”

Favors and debts, like on their very first day. No, they really had moved on from there. He had moved on, from his obsession with owing nothing to anybody. When he thought back, he could only see fear. That Bordeaux had been right, and every nice thing done for him came at a cost. Now though...

“Then let’s not call it favor.”, he suggested softly. “Let’s call it... a date?”

Part of him was shocked to hear himself even propose that, but rest of him was tired of hesitating. He wanted every second of Marinette’s company he could get, to make up for the days of Lila-induced isolation.

He watched every movement in Marinette’s face, every minute twitch of her lips and eyebrows. At first, her eyes widened and her cheeks turned darker. (Was she blushing? She was blushing! That was a good thing, wasn’t it?)

Then her fingers bolted up to her face, as if to hide it, only to settle for brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I...”, she started, voice two octaves higher then usual. Until finally, her lips curved into a smile. “I’d like that. And I know just the place!”

A mischievous glimmer appeared in her eyes.

“You’ll see when we get there, it’s-“

A scream drowned her voice out and they jumped back. Felix felt his blood run cold. The door had been slammed shut, chained and locked. Where Adrien had kneeled when he’d last checked, a gloomy figure hovered over the floor. It was held up by heavy metal chains that crept over the ground like snakes, apparently not bound by any law of physics. Defying gravity, some of them simply floated next to their wielder, waiting for orders.

The wielder himself looked monstrous enough on his own. His skin was devoid of any color, lifeless and dull like bleached bones. Black stripes ran down his face, like tear stains from his wide, eerie green eyes. His hair shared the stripes’ unsettling color. On top of his head rested a spiked, golden crown that reminded him of a halo.

Knight-like armor adorned with an upside down paw-print protected his torso, and around his wrist was a beaded bracelet of some sorts. From a chain around his other hand dangled a heavy, spiked Morningstar.

The akuma - because what else could he be? - chuckled.

“Much better.”, he sighed. “Now, let’s see... who wronged me the most?”

Without any visible sign, his chains bolted towards Lila, who screamed when her waist was seized by the animated metal. Instinctively, Felix’ hand grabbed Marinette’s. Any fast movement might draw the Akuma’s attention to them, but he needed her to be ready to run as soon as there was a chance.

All eyes were fixed on Lila and her captor, who tapped his chin as the girl quivered before him.

“Oh, you look so scared.”, he gasped. “Poor Lila. It’s just me, good old Adrien! Or... Cathexis, to be exact. Why would you fear me?”

He hummed.

“Maybe... because you know that you used me? Or because you lied to me? Or because you stalked me?” His voice grew louder and louder, and his soothing smile turned into a malicious grimace.

“Or because you ruined my friendships? My school life? My everything?”

Cathexis laughed joylessly, eyes so wide they looked as if they might pop out of his skull.

“Please!”, Lila pleaded desperately. “It wasn’t my fault, I-I only wanted the same thing as you! I promise-“

“SHUT UP!”

Everyone in the room startled, frozen in fear. Marinette gripped his hand more tightly as the chain holding Lila started to glow in the same, cold light Cathexis’ bracelet radiated. It began at its root somewhere behind his shoulder, and slowly spread over the links towards its victim. Lila whimpered.

“See, I am tired of waiting for you to change.”, Cathexis lamented. “I gave you so many chances, but you just won’t listen! So I’ll have to make you a better person myself.”

He grinned, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

“Let’s call it one last emotional investment in you, okay?”

Lila trashed and trembled in her restrains as the glow came closer, tears in her terror-stricken eyes.

“Stop! I’m sorry, but whatever you’re doing, please stop it!”

Marinette twitched, but Felix held her in place. He wouldn’t let her endanger herself for Lila of all people! They could only watch as the light reached its prey. A white flash blinded them, then the chain dissolved and Lila dropped to the floor. She breathed, and her eyes were open, but her gaze was lifeless and empty.

Cathexis sigh broke the silence he’d shocked them into and he looked around.

“So...”, he said with an innocent smile. “Who’s next?”

Cathexis felt strong. He felt quick. He felt ready.

His chains dashed through the room the second he thought about giving the order, and as the people in the room broke out in panic, they seized them with ease. Nino, Alya, Chloé, all immobilized and chained to the ceiling with nothing more than a thought. The chain he had lost by fixing Lila was regrowing, and he directed it towards Marinette. His dear friend had started to guide the others to the back of the room and behind a curtain, cherishing the hope they might find safety there. Felix was next to her, but he could wait. For now, his ring was priority number one.

With a flick of his wrist he send the chain flying. It wrapped around Marinette’s wrist before she even noticed he was targeting her, and he had pulled her into the air in a heartbeat. Ignoring Felix’s scream, he retreated to the other side of the room.

Hawkmoth’s approval humming through his head, he sunk on eye-level with her, dodging the punch she’d aimed at his face. Another chain wrapped around her, fixing her arms at her side.

“Marinette!”, he rebuked her with a raised finger. “You should never react with violence, don’t you know that?”

“Let me go!”, his mannerless friend snarled. “What did you do with Lila?”

He knew the question sourced from fear for herself rather than concern for Lila, but he pretended otherwise for the moment. Soon, she’d care about Lila for real. And about him. And about any other person he chose to fix. They’d be a big happy family, with no problems or flaws under his watch. But first...

“You know what I’m looking for, Marinette.”

She froze and his eyes darted to the bump in the fabric above her collarbone.

“It’s fate that brought it back to me, so soon after I lost it.”, he whispered with a blissful smile. “You have it, don’t you? I saw it on you. My little secret, I want it back now.”

Marinette’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Lost it... wait, your secret?”

Her jaw dropped as her mind caught up.

“You!”

“Yes, me.”, he admitted happily. “You understand, don’t you? I need it back. Once Hawkmoth is done with it, I’ll be Chat Noir again. It’s my destiny! Surely, you wouldn’t want to stand in the way of a hero.”

Marinette looked absolutely shocked. Devastated even - hopefully at the thought of hindering Chat Noir. But the way her face hardened told him otherwise.

“It’s no longer yours!”, she hissed. “And you’re a fool if you think Hawkmoth would just give it back to you, once he has it.”

He sighed.

“The hard way, then.”

The chains tightened around her as he concentrated, focusing his energy on her. She was his friend. He’d done so much for her; he deserved something in return. But before he could conjure the light into his chains, pain flared in his right cheek and he was thrown sideways.

“Argh!”

More startled than hurt, he rubbed his cheek and looked around. The moment of distraction had been enough to make his chains go slack, enough to let Marinette free herself. His eyes fixated on the culprit. Felix stood in the middle of the room, arm still raised from the punch he’d given.

“Ah.”, the stubborn annoyance of a boy sighed, despite his obvious fear. “That was cathartic.”

“You!”, Cathexis growled, summoning his chains. “I’ll make you regret ever coming to our school.”

Oh, he wouldn’t fix Felix, no, no, no. The rude bastard didn’t deserve this mercy, and Cathexis wouldn’t invest his emotional energy in a guy whose akuma had cost him Plagg! No, Felix would meet a far harsher fate. Cathexis raised his Morningstar and swung it through the air to gain momentum. With a battle cry, he hurled the spiked sphere at his enemy, who threw himself aside just in time to avoid getting turned into a pancake. Again and again Cathexis took aim, using his sentient chains to block Felix’ path. Finally, when he had nowhere left to run, the Akuma called his weapon back to attack one last time.

“I should’ve done this sooner!”, he cackled gleefully. “It would have saved me so much trouble, you living nuisance!”

He swung the Morningstar, blind and deaf to anything except his target. A mistake, as it turned out. He couldn’t hear the creaking of metal over his own laughter, couldn’t see the beams for the cameras at the ceiling move. Only when they crashed down on him he realized he should have payed more attention to Marinette.

“No, no!”

Trapped beneath the crashed metal structure he could only watch as Marinette - the crafty pain in the butt - climbed down from the bars of the supporting column, pulling Felix with her. The two of them vanished behind the curtains at the back, and when he send out his chains to rip the fabric apart, he understood why.

“A backdoor!”, Hawkmoth growled. Of course, that’s why no one had been inside anymore. “Idiot! Now the girl escaped with the ring, our ring!”

Groaning, Cathexis pushed the beams and bars off of himself and stood up.

“I’ll hunt them down!”, he swore and called his chains back to him. “They can’t run from me!”

“No.”, Hawkmoth stopped him. “No, wait. The Cat Miraculous is already close, but Ladybug is still missing. Call her here, then go after the ring.”

Cathexis nodded as the violet glow faded from his face. His Lady would be here shortly! Until then, he could bring Chloé, Alya and Nino under his contr- supervision. They were still struggling with their restraints, but not much longer.

“Lila!”, he barked for his new ally and the brunette stood up. “Get the camera working. I need to alert Ladybug.”

“Of course!”, she obliged with a smile. “Then I can apologize to her. We’ll be great friends, with your help!”

Cathexis grinned and bared his fangs as she got to work. Soon, he told himself. His chained friends looked at him in fear.

Soon.

#miramu writes #wttb #welcome to the back #felinette fanfic #felinette #ml felix #ml marinette #akuma!adrien #cathexis

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veronicamarsconfessions · 4 years

Link

I was hugely excited by the announcement that a fourth season of teen noir show Veronica Mars was going to be made, nearly fifteen years after the show’s initial air date (and cancellation after three seasons), and five years after the crowdfunded movie came out. As soon as the show dropped on Hulu (or Stan, if you’re in Australia like me) – a week earlier than initially slated, I rushed to watch it. And I was so distraught by the ending that it genuinely took two days for my mood to return to something even vaguely resembling ‘okay’.

For those of you who haven’t seen it *SPOILERS FROM HERE ON*,

season four has Veronica (Kristen Bell) chasing down a serial bomber who seems to be trying to destroy the Spring Break business in Neptune. It turns out that the first bomb was set by property developer ‘Big’ Dick Casablancas, trying to destroy the Spring Break business in order to buy the waterfront properties cheaply, and the subsequent bombs were set by a pizza delivery man, Penn Epner (Patton Oswalt), who fancies himself a detective and is out to find glory after he is initially ridiculed for his public accusation of an incorrect suspect. The season itself had several issues (one of them being some seriously murky motivations behind Epner’s behaviour, like, if he really was that much of a genius, why was he a pizza delivery man?, and that the people ultimately behind the crimes are more or less ‘hidden in plain sight’ all along, which is a disappointing departure from the way the initial seasons cleverly hid the villain until quite late in proceedings). However, the issue for which there is not enough therapy in the world to appease me is the season’s last-minute killing off of reformed bad-boy and Veronica’s long-time boyfriend, Logan Echolls (Jason Dohring), right after they finally got married.

Series creator and showrunner, Rob Thomas, justified this decision by saying ‘I know this seems crazy or harsh but Veronica is at her best when she’s an underdog and I don’t know that there’s much to root for if she’s now got a perfect relationship. I need to keep her fighting and I need to keep her a little bit uncomfortable in order to have a show. There’s nothing funny or interesting about perfection.’

Except that’s a deeply flawed understanding of how relationships function, and a deeply messed up thing to push on to people.

It’s fair to acknowledge that once the ‘will-they-won’t-they’ is resolved, TV shows often decline in quality, or at the very least, significantly depart from the original formula which made them into such beloved hits at their beginning. But there are two significant issues with this: First, the assumption that TV shows must remain the same in order to be good. There are some interesting observations that the job of the sitcom episode (in particular) is to return all characters to more or less their original starting points. While that is broadly true, TV shows, like life, need to evolve in order to stay interesting, and as across seasons, audiences grow alongside the characters they watch evolve and mature.

Nevertheless, it was fair for Thomas to note that the characterisation of Veronica is someone who is embittered and cynical about people’s fidelity and inherent goodness – after all, when we first meet her at the age of sixteen, her best friend has been brutally murdered, she’s been raped, her alcoholic mother has upped and left, and her adored father and moral compass has been socially ostracised for a) doing his job and b) being not super wealthy. It’s a lot. Veronica’s very understandable trust issues are compounded by the moonlighting she does as a P.I where, to she regularly sees people cheating on one another and generally behaving in unpleasant ways. So it’s reasonable to point out that for Veronica, the notion of the ‘happily ever after’ is a deeply uncomfortable one. But to keep her in the same mindset as she was at aged 16 is to deny her the capacity to grow as a character.

It’s fair that there was a desire to avoid repeating the pattern previously established (withdrawn/bitter etc), but – and here is my ultimate point – that could have been avoided.

Some of the most complex and interesting storylines come from couples who get together and have to navigate relationships; compromising to fit together, find a way to make it work. Think about the evolution of Niles and Daphne’s relationship in Frasier (and leave aside some of the aspects to his earlier infatuation with her that seem distinctly distasteful in a post-#metoo world). While much of the humour between them in earlier seasons was because of his unrealised ardour for her, after they became a couple, the hardships they navigated through being a couple, and the deepening richness of their relationship that was both romantic and based in friendship, produced some truly hilarious moments. Similarly, one of my (and our fabulous Chief Nerd, Elise’s) favourite TV shows, Chuck, *SPOILER* has the two leads get together in season 3. The show was no lesser for that fact because as Chuck and Sarah’s relationship deepened, they explored facets of themselves that they hadn’t previously shown – it provided more material for the writers, not less.

One of my favourite articles on the ending of Veronica Mars, season four, pointed out that Logan has the most interesting character development because he works to better himself – he has come a long way from the miscreant teenager who organised ‘bum fights’, and he had the potential to become an even more interesting character. How this interacted with Veronica’s cynicism could have provided significant fodder for more story.

But, giving full credit to Rob Thomas for a moment here, the show is called Veronica Mars, not Logan Echolls. So the decision to axe Logan was made to push Veronica’s character development forward, especially given the shows position as a gender-flipped noir which so often has the embittered, cynical detective dealing with the ongoing pain of a tragically killed love.

But the problem is that I can’t actually see how this is going to do anything but ossify Veronica’s primary characteristics: bitter, a hardnosed and reckless desire to catch the bad guy at any cost. Moreover, in most of the noir detective stories, this love has died before we meet the hard-bitten detective.

Thomas said to The Hollywood Reporter, “Moving forward, we’re going to really build around [the idea that] the case is the thing and less of the soap opera of Veronica’s life.” Except Veronica Mars is all about character. Her interactions with her father, Keith (Enrico Colantoni) and the genuine bond of affection between them evokes some of the show’s most poignant interactions. Her internal struggle when the pursuit of justice comes up against questions of morality is inherent grounded in her character. One of its most interest aspects across the years is that Veronica is often wrong. She falsely accuses people (including Logan himself), she behaves badly, she takes her friends for granted, and she can be reckless to the point where she endangers herself and someone has to come in and rescue her (case in point: wandering into the base of an Irish gang that had a particular grudge against her father). So to strip away the elements to the story that allow for depiction and consideration of those complexities would be to lose much of the show’s point.

There’s also a part of me that feels the way in which Logan was killed feels personal. Logan and Veronica were never initially meant to get together, but in the first episodes, the chemistry between the characters, and Kristen Bell and Jason Dohring was so profound that it was written in. I might be putting on my tin foil hat to say this, but it feels as though Thomas resented the manner in which LoVe became such a pivotal part of the Veronica Mars ‘brand’. What really underpins that for me is that the way the series sent off other characters was considered, and gave them a certain ‘exit’. The way in which Logan was killed off feels almost like an afterthought, made more so by some of the questions that arise from the manner. How did he know that she would be in it when it actually blew up? Moreover, the convenience of him leaving a voicemail for his therapist about why he wanted to marry Veronica (why exactly would he call his therapist to tell him about his epiphany? Who has that kind of relationship with their therapist?), and this woman’s decision to keep it from Veronica for a year seems weirdly contrived. Because it was.

However, to be fair, one could claim that the season mistreated some of its other characters, too. Tina Majorino who plays Cindy ‘Mac’ Mackenzie specifically noted that she did not want to return because she did not want her character to be sidelined. Similarly, the complexity to Eli ‘Weevil’ Navaro’s character was stripped away, as was the depth of his relationship with Veronica. What’s worse is that this could have been a really interesting storyline; why he decided to walk away from the court case which would have seen him awarded with compensation for what happened to him in the movie. While we are told that his wife left him along with his child, prompting him to return to his old gang-running ways, the depth of his grief and the reputable life he lost were never really portrayed. Honestly, I would have preferred that rather than the convoluted storyline that involved Mexican cartel hitmen.

But beyond my argument as a writer as to why Logan’s death was a totally unnecessary element to bring in, it also feels like a real slap in the face to fans. I’ve previously talked about the relationship this show has with its fans. Realistically, season 4…hell, the movie, only existed because of the love and support fans showed the show.

Any narrative material exists to interact with fans. Obviously, there is a fine line that can cross into blatant pandering, and there is also a trend that offers a ‘gritty’ or ‘sad’ end (ie the tragic death of the lover), but it’s a balance.

The Veronica Mars movie was very much fan service – it was, after all, fan funded. Much of the movie’s contents and storyline were determined by what Thomas was seeing from fan comments on social media, noting “I did have an idea of things people wanted to see, characters I wanted to get an appearance in, whether it felt extraneous or not.” He added, “there’s no way in the world we would have had a fan-funded movie and I would have killed Logan,” he added.

In the same interview, he said, “I fear that leaning into the high school soap that the show started out as is a losing proposition, that it will start feeling nostalgic rather than vital. If Kristen [Bell] and I want to make more of these Veronica Mars mysteries, I think it’s going to survive best as a true mystery show with a badass PI at the center of it, and I think that works better if the PI doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

Yet for a show whose who schtick was challenging the noir detective genre, it seems the prospect that someone fundamentally gritty and damaged can also have a relationship that the struggle to be healthy was simply a bridge too far.

And at the crux of it, what really frustrates me – as a fan, and as a writer – is that for Thomas, it simply felt too hard to give Logan and Veronica an enduring relationship, and it if wasn’t too difficult, then he perceived it destroyed some fundamental part of the show by making it emotionally sappy. If that’s the dichotomy in which Thomas thinks, then Veronica Mars is no longer the show which attracted its die-hard following of fans and may as well be a different show with a similar premise.

#Veronica Mars #Rob Thomas #Kristen Bell #Logan Echolls #Jason Dohring #news

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a-few-of-my-favorite-anime · 3 years

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Yesterday wo Utatte (Spring 2020) 12 Episodes

I wanted to like this... ultimately it was disappointing and unsatisfying.

Basically all the the characters are in 'love' with someone who can't return their feelings.

> Recent high school drop out Haru is in insta love with recent college grad Rikuo. > Rikuo has been crushing on his college classmate Shinako for the past few years. > Shinako first love died 6 years ago, and she still can't move on. >Rou, the younger high school brother of Shinako's first love, believes he is also in love with her.

I honestly didn't dislike any of the characters, Rikuo and Shinako are 22-23yo both stuck and finding it difficult to move on, him with finding a passion/career and finally moving forward in life (low confidence, low self-esteem?), and her using her dead love as an excuse not to risk emotional love and relationships again. In the anime you do see Rikuo start to finally make changes in his life and choose a career path, and it seemed like Shinako was also willing to start to move forward and try a love relationship again... but they just couldn't get comfortable enough with each other to make it work.

Shinako, for me was the hardest to deal with... she wants to wallow in her grief, but she also finally realizes she needs to move on, she accepts Rikuo's interest in her, even though she really isn't interested in him, only using him to help herself move on. To be fair, Rikuo goes in fully knowing this, they are at least honest with each other. He is willing to take the risk that it won't work and it doesn't because he knows her situation is too considerate of her feelings to ever push her, and she herself admits she wants someone to push/pull her out of her rut... I don't know, I couldn't help but feel like she was really wrong to use him like that even if he was willing. What she really needed was to have her friends set her up with a few blind dates, people who she could meet casually, with no feelings or expectations, and just start getting used to dating and realizing that there are other nice guys besides her ex if she gave them a chance... and if not, no real harm done just try again. But in taking it safe and using Rikuo, who is too inexperienced and invested to want to mess this up, it ends up going nowhere but awkward.

Haru and Rou are kinda similar as well, both are high school aged and very determined to make their feelings known and both fully expect to eventually win their loves if they just persist hard enough... I found Haku a little less grating, she is a little stalker like always popping up, but she also recognizes when Rikuo isn't having it and backs off to try again later. She is a simple girl for the most part, she is happy, independent and mostly well adjusted, she really just wants to be in love and decided that Rikuo was the one for her. Again, to Rikuo's credit I never felt like he lead her on, he was always telling her he wasn't interested, but just never strong enough for her to quit. She even acknowledges Shinako as her rival, but never stops trying to win Rikuo over. Often it seems like Haru should just give up and find someone who is at least interested in her, she is young and cute and should have no problems finding someone better and interested, but 'love' isn't always a choice? She is young and believes if she gives it her all she will prevail, I chalked it up to youthful enthusiasm.

Rou on the other hand was quite aggressive and possessive of Shinako to a point that makes you uncomfortable. They grew up together, she sees him as a little brother that he basically has been to her. He is at least 5-6 years younger, a 17-18yo in high school, even her actual student at one point! I had to keep thinking that, he is young and it is his first crush, he might just be projecting a lot on to her, he just needs to grow up. He just does a lot of questionable things, but then again he is quite young... I never thought his love would be returned by Shinako, that the point was for him to grow up and realize its not going to happen. It kind of happens at the end, but it seems to just work to win her over?

Just looking at Rou reminds Shinako of his dead brother, she is (unhealthly) dependent on his family, often going over to cook meals for them, even when they are not there and generally just mothering them... feels like she is her avoiding living an independent life of her own. At least that is where I thought it was heading, Rou has the least amount of screen time just finishing school and doing art (safety pin as an earring artist, like i said young, lol), and is never presented as a real viable choice the way Haru is. Haru is ever present in the story, she wants to win Rikuo's love fair and square. Rou seems to demand and expect Shinako's love, she just needs to stop seeing him as a kid. At the end, when he is moving out to his first apartment, he chooses a place where it will also be convenient for her to continue stopping by to cook meals for him... and she agrees to it... it felt like a step backwards for her.

Shinako personality is such that, she is too nice and comfortable just being friendly to everyone, but too pretty that all of her niceness just makes all the guys around her want more from her.

Then the ending happened... this anime really didn't feel like it was setting up for the ending we got, it felt like we were following 4 rather immature and inexperienced young people having to realize some hard truths about life and love as they finally move forward in life. They teased us with a Rikuo-Shinako potential romance, but it was clear it was going nowhere after a few 'dates'. But then out of the blue Shinako breaks down and acts like she can't handle hurting Rou (by not returning his romantic love) and not being apart of that family, she is too dependent on them, like they are her own family and she misses going there and mothering them...

So does that translate to she will eventually be with Rou (at least he is not her student anymore) just so she can continue to be apart of the family that she is comfortable with? Or that she really does love Rou? Is she again deflecting and sort of combining Rou and his brother into one as a way to compromise but also stay comfortable in her bubble? I'm not sure. Honestly, I never got the feeling Shinako was ever really interested or in love or romance with anyone, she just wants to be comfortable in non-sexual relationships and mother them, imo.

Rikuo on the other hand does a 180 when he realizes that he actually does 'love' Haru. The entire show I was at least giving him the credit for not giving her false hope. He is constantly telling her he isn't interested, that she should stop bothering with him, etc... she understands, but says it is okay, she does it for her own benefit and to not mind her. But now, after he and Shinako both realize that it isn't happening, he decides that he did like Haru and liked that she loved him so much, and that he wants to be with her now. Of course Haru, resigned to losing gave up her pursuit, is shocked when he confesses and of course the magic words 'i love you' was all it took for her to leap into his arms.

I'm not mad at the couple, they probably would be good together, at least both want to be in a relationship now and are low maintenance enough to work it out, but the lack of buildup and romance is perplexing and annoying. Rikuo literally never shows any romantic interest in her the entire series, the best you can say is that he isn't mean to her... and then immediatly he jumps to 'love.'

Sigh, this ending felt like to came out of nowhere, both 'couples' are paired up without a lot explanation and substance, it just felt lackluster and disappointing on the relationship and romance angle.

#Yesterday wo Utatte #anime

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readingwritingcrying · 5 years

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Hi, are you still taking prompts? If you are, maybe something like Heaven taking Crowley in order to hurt Aziraphale? Just some great whump 🙃🙃 love your writing

I might have gotten carried away with this oopsie,,, Here’s part one of this story! Thank you so much for sending in this prompt!!

Honestly, Crowley should have seen it coming.

He should have guessed, should have realized that they couldn’t possibly be let off the hook so easily. That they could just fool the rest of the powerful occult and ethereal beings in the universe by a simple swap and be done with it forever and ever.

Crowley should have sensed the strange angelic presence in Aziraphale’s bookshop when he was lounging peacefully on the couch.

He didn’t.

Crowley usually didn’t pay too much attention to presences. He couldn’t sense nice emotions like Aziraphale, so the whole thing just didn’t have much appeal to put any effort into, except if he was trying to locate his angel.

This is why he was completely unprepared when the bookshop door opened, the bell ringing to announce an intruder. Crowley glanced up, and he was honestly expecting some poor human customer he would frighten away with a flash of a much eviler face than the one he usually wore. (Aziraphale usually didn’t let him do this, but Aziraphale wasn’t there at the moment, and it was the human’s damn fault for ignoring the ‘closed’ sign).

However, Crowley was not expecting to see the Archangel Fucking Gabriel, a satisfied grin on his oh-so-punchable face.

“Crowley! Just the demon I was hoping to run into!” Gabriel said, his falsely-pleasant voice causing fear to ooze its way through Crowley. He sat up, every muscle tensed and ready to either run or if he had to, fight. His pose on the couch was still deceivingly sprawled and twisted, it might even pass as relaxed to the untrained or simply uncaring eyes.

“Not sure I could say you’re the angel I wanted to see,” Crowley gathered himself enough to sneer at Gabriel. To his credit, he only sighed, looking vaguely annoyed and bored.

Once, very long ago, Gabriel would have cared, Crowley thought. Before even the Beginning, and at least before Lucifer Fell. That Gabriel, however, was not something he would see any time soon, if at all.

It was too late when Crowley noticed the way Gabriel’s eyes flicked above his head, instead of looking down on him as if he were a stain in a crisp white shirt that just wouldn’t come out.

He looked up, only to see the blur of movement as Sandalphon brought down the blunt edge of a sword on Crowley’s head. Hard. He didn’t even have time to shout before consciousness failed him, and the bookshop turned to black.

…

When Crowley woke, he was in about the last place he would have ever thought he’d be. Heaven.

Of course, he didn’t feel very heavenly. Demonic nature aside, his head hurt like… like…

His head really hurt. Throbbing in a way that made his thoughts disjointed, which really wasn’t fair because he wasn’t even corporeal. Shouldn’t have to hurt so blessed much.

He was in what was most assuredly a cell, although it had the appearance of a boring plain white room. It was awarded heavily, Crowley found, as he tried to test the door. Against demons and angels alike, and went even so far as to have dissuasions for human souls as well.

Heaven, at the least, was still worried by the stunt him and Aziraphale had pulled after the apocawasn’t.

‘So they don’t believe they can kill me,’ He thinks. And it was a relief because at least he wouldn’t be leaving Aziraphale forever. And if they wanted him dead through means of holy water or sword, he would have been gone by now.

Crowley didn’t recognize where in heaven he was, although he suspected by his last visit he might not recognize much if any of it. It was too different from what he once must have known. That certainly put a damper on any escape plans, even if he did manage to squirm his way around the wards.

At the very least Aziraphale must know something had happened to him, or he would soon. Crowley could feel it in the very way his being ached that his physical body had been left at the bookshop; him instead being harshly ripped away from it by the Archangels.

Which, now that Crowley thought about it, was odd. Surely if they were getting rid of him, they would want to make it as clean as possible, not risk Aziraphale discovering it was heaven who had him?

Unless… that was exactly what they wanted, Crowley realized in muted terror. For his angel to try and rescue him.

He was bait.

If heaven couldn’t rid Aziraphale with hellfire, they must have wanted to find another way, since God didn’t seem to care enough to make him Fall, a fact Crowley might have admitted to thanking Her for if he was drunk enough.

He didn’t know if it was to punish his angel or control him or what, but it was the only option that fit all the pieces together.

He wasn’t sure how long he stewed on that realization alone in the blank room. It was impossible to get a real sense of time, but it felt like much too long. At the very least, Heaven didn’t burn him, not like consecrated ground or other holy things. It just filled him with fear of what might happen to him and Aziraphale, and gave him a dull sense of longing he refused to admit to even to himself, and probably wouldn’t even with all the alcohol in the world.

Just when he thought he might actually loose it from the pure nothingness, a door that had not been their before opened.

“Now Crowley, I’ve had to hear thousands of years about how wily you are, so you must have some idea why you’re here?” Asked Gabriel, voice patronizing. Crowley hissed, and the Archangel shook his head. “Really, there’s no use for that. It’s not like it’s personal – but if Aziraphale insists on remaining an Angel, we have to hold him in line somehow. Michael thought of it actually, a great idea. If his priorities lay with you and not heaven, why not make them match up? He does what’s needed of him, and you won’t get hurt,” he smiles proudly.

Of course, it was Michael, Crowley thinks. Gabriel wouldn’t have been so creative. “It won’t work,” he spits, “I’ve been through hell there isss nothing you can do that’ss worsssse.” He wouldn’t show any hurt for Aziraphale, wouldn’t give them the show they wanted.

But Gabriel just nods with disinterest. “But we can do better,” he points out. And Crowley doesn’t understand until Gabriel’s hand is on his shoulder, holding tightly so that he can’t pull away.

He lets out something in between a gasp and a sob because suddenly he was being filled with Grace and Love and it was too fucking much. Grace was something foreign to him now, and it burned through the very core of him. Love was less so, but the love he was feeling right now wasn’t the love he had for Aziraphale, or even the more casual feeling for his Bentley or music, it was Love with a capital “L”, something godly and angelic that he couldn’t possibly know being outside of the Host.

For all it burned through him, he grasped at it, craving it. He never meant to fall, to lose this along with a name he could no longer say. He needed it, even if it felt like it was tearing his very essence apart.

With a shock it was gone, Gabriel’s projection roughly pulled away from him with his hand and Crowley collapsed. Tears streamed down his face, and he looked up to Gabriel with all the weakness and desperation as he looked to the heavens when he first Fell.

There was only a slight flicker of emotion in Gabriel’s eyes before he blinked it away and left.

Crowley was alone. He felt so empty, so cold. He was a miserable sight, shaking and pathetic in a way Hell could not possibly draw out of him. He couldn’t even speak. Even if he could, what could he possibly say?

Scream, turning his pain into rage? Call for Aziraphale to get him out of here? Beg for Gabriel to come back, to let him feel Light like that until it destroyed him?

He couldn’t do any of that so he just pressed himself against a wall, pushing his hands into his chest in a vain attempt to fill the empty feeling he was left with.

When Gabriel returned, Crowley had not moved. He had tried to sleep, but when exhaustion (the mental kind, at least) tried to overtake him he was flooded with a mixture of dreams and memories of his Fall.

Silent, Crowley watched as Gabriel approached with cold determination. Crowley did not flinch away from his touch, did not want to give the Archangel that kind of satisfaction. He just braced himself for what he knew was coming.

Somehow knowing was so much worse.

“Bring him in.” he heard distantly over his own choked sobs. He was raw, cold, empty, weak.

“Oh, dear.” Aziraphale. His voice broke, murmured sympathy and guilt and Crowley knew that the Archangel’s plan was just this, but he couldn’t stop the desperate gasps coming from him as he reeled in shock from the loss of grace for the third time in his life.

As much as Crowley wanted to, he couldn’t look at Aziraphale. Not like this, not now. “What have you done to him, Gabriel?” Aziraphale’s voice was accusing, angry in a way that Crowley was not used to hearing. Focusing on his voice and his presence, he tried to calm himself at least enough to open his eyes without starting to beg.

“Only what was necessary, Aziraphale,” Gabriel stated without sympathy. “Since the world is still, well, here – thanks for that one by the way – you’re still going to be required to work for heaven. Little to no chance of promotion, I’m afraid.” His tone was dripping with sarcasm. Aziraphale looked like he was about to snap, ready to lunge at Gabriel.

Crowley sent a pleading look to him, begging the angel not to get himself into any more trouble. Aziraphale took a sharp breath. “And if I don’t agree?” He dared question.

��Well, you see,” Gabriel waved his hand, gesturing towards Crowley. “Unless you’d like to have a demonstration sooner than later, then I’ll let you watch as he is punished for your mistakes.”

Aziraphale looked from Gabriel to Crowley crumpled on the floor eyes wide.

“Zira. S’ fine, I’m-“ He can’t say he’s okay. He can’t even lie about it. Gabriel spun towards him, eyes cold. He was pissed. Crowley wasn’t supposed to be in any state to try and comfort the disobedient angel in Gabriel’s eyes, he guessed.

Gabriel took a step toward him, and Crowley let out a low whine.

“I’ll do it,” Aziraphale said hurriedly. “Whatever assignments you want me doing, I’ll do it, Gabriel.” The Archangel paused and sighed in almost disappointment before nodding.

“Great! Glad to have you back,” said Gabriel, and Crowley never realized how easy an angel could lie.

After Aziraphale agreed, Crowley was left alone again. He felt hopeless, even if there was a way to get out of the blessed room, he didn’t have the effort to look for it anymore. Occasionally, he could sense his Angel visiting heaven, sometimes nearer to him than others, but he never saw Aziraphale.

At least when he had to experience his fall, he landed in Hell. There, demons easily took out their pain and anger on each other. Not exactly a healthy coping mechanism, but there was nothing for him here, and he was only stuck with his feelings festering. What he wouldn’t give for some plants to terrorize.

As time went on, he was at least allowed to get himself put back together. He was no longer a shivering mess on the floor, he was more of a somewhat mobile and very bored mess who only shivered a little when he felt a flash of Gabriel’s power. Which still wasn’t great, but he’d take it.

It was a long time before anyone decided to check on him. Long enough, at least, that if he were human he might be having some serious problems. Crowley, luckily, being a demon, could just sleep for a few days when the silence of his cell became overwhelming. He was starting to understand why his angel kept things so cluttered.

But still, being in heaven, with its holiness and light and love, twisted as it may have become, bad as the situation may be, made some part of him wish to stay. To belong, again. Which was confusing, because even if Crowley was offered a place again by God herself, he probably wouldn’t want it.

It was that conflicting nature he had been thinking about, pacing around his cell when a door opened, and in walked Aziraphale. Crowley turned, eyes brightening. “Aziraphale!”

The angel did not meet his eyes.

Gabriel entered after him.

Oh.

“Well, go on, explain why we’re here today,” Gabriel prompted. Aziraphale’s lip trembled.

“Crowley, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to, I just,” Aziraphale hiccupped, “I just messed up using a miracle, oh, please Gabriel. Let me fix this some other way,” he begged.

Gabriel tutted. “If there were any other way.” Gabriel approached Crowley, who bristled in defense. He was going to do this? Now, in front of Aziraphale?

He could feel himself start to panic, but tried to push it down. He would have to keep it together for Aziraphale. He’d like to have no reaction at all, not even a little bit of distress and encourage the angel to do things his way.

Heaven was a bag of dicks, and if anyone was Good it was Aziraphale.

But he wasn’t naïve enough to actually believe things would go so well.

Gabriel grasped his arm, and Crowley thought he might scream. Gabriel’s grace was projected through him, burning as it went. He clenched his jaw so hard that if he were a truly physical being it would have surely broken.

He didn’t scream.

His breathing was rapid, coming in pants and gasps, completely unsteady. He wouldn’t be standing if it weren’t for Gabriel’s tight grip holding him up. He felt like he would dissolve into ashes any moment. But he didn’t scream.

He refused to. Not in front of Aziraphale.

Not when somehow, Crowley must deserve this.

Gabriel must have grown frustrated because all of a sudden, Crowley’s head split open with a cacophony of voices. Prayers, angel communications, everything the Archangel could muster projected onto him.

“Please, please, please, stop, no, please,” he heard along with it. Vaguely, he knew it was himself. He still did not scream, but he was a mess of incoherent babbling and low whines as he begged for the quiet he had hated previously to return.

“Gabriel, Gabriel you’ll kill him!” Aziraphale’s panicked voice rang. The Archangel didn’t let up, and suddenly, Aziraphale’s voice powerful in an almost deadly, threatening way. “Gabriel, if he’s gone, I have no reason to be loyal to heaven again.” His voice had never contained so much Wrath.

Gabriel may not have been against a war with hell, but another war with angles was something he’d do anything to prevent.

The noise stopped. Gabriel’s grace, the Love, the Light was being pulled away so quickly that Crowley was sure some of himself must have been coming with it.

No, no not again, don’t leave me like this again. He tried to cling to it, the completeness that it offered, fighting it just as hard as when God had stripped it from him when he Fell. But it was a losing battle; this grace had never been his. He had just been allowed to feel it.

When it was gone, he screamed.

It was a tortured sound, not fitting of almost any creature, much less something close to human. Gabriel took a step back from him, shaken by the ordeal even as Crowley blindly grasped the air in front of him.

The painful sensation of his knees hitting the ground was the only indication he had collapsed, and he wrung his hands through his hair, pulling, trying to ground himself, his eyes tightly shut. He sobbed and keened and gasped and begged, although no words were close to comprehensible. Somewhere distant, his angel was crying for him.

The sound of the door opening again was the only thing that managed to break through to him; the sound of another angel whose Presence was overwhelming entering.

Crowley shoved himself backward, scrambling to press into the corner of the room away from the angels. His vision was blurry with tears, but the new face he saw was not familiar.

Waves of terror and panic crashed over Crowley. His eyes were blown yellow, his chest throbbing with stabbing pain, something like a hiss escaping him as a warning to the approaching Angel.

The Angel stopped, hardly looking at him. He was saying something to the other angels. Crowley’s mind couldn’t keep up with the words.

Pain, longing, terror threatened to overtake him. He found he couldn’t fight it.

The world went black.

part two HERE

#good omens #good omens fic #good omens fanfiction #good omens whump #whump #Ineffable Husbands #otp: ineffable #crowley #Crowley whump #Aziraphale #gabriel #fanfiction

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gaamagirl565 · 4 years

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Matters of the heart S2 Ep13

Matters of the heart Season 2 Episode 13 Lost Dreams

{OPENING CREDITS}

{Open to Isaiah opening his small pouch and counting out the coins; Benny walks by with a cloth bag} Isaiah: Find anything good? Benny: not really... a couple of moldy pieces of bread, an old turkey wing that looks like it was already eaten, and some old fruit. ‘Saiah, if we eat in any of this we’re gonna get real sick. {Isaiah doesn’t listen and keeps counting with a conflicted face} Benny: ‘Saiah?...Isaiah? {He still doesn’t listen and she leaps on him} Benny: ‘SAIAH! Isaiah: AH! WHAT!? Benny: what’cha doing? Isaiah: I'm counting out how much funds I have... it's not enough… Benny: Not enough for what? Isaiah: enough for a map and food... I can't get both. Benny: then it looks like you're in a pickle. Food is necessary and it's a long trip back to Corona on foot. Isaiah: and I can't leave without a map. I've no idea how to get back to Corona from the dark kingdom.

Benny: Well don't look at me I've never left the dark Kingdom. I was practically born here. Isaiah: Benny you were born here. I can't really afford to make this choice. a map or food. both are necessary. Benny: there's always another option. Isaiah: and what would that be? if I get a map I'll barely have enough money for food, and if I get food I won't have enough money for a map. but please tell me your grand scheme. Benny: don't buy food. Isaiah:... and here I was thinking you were some sort of survival genius Benny: watch it stinky! you didn't let me finish! don't buy the food... hunt for it! Isaiah: Hunt for food? I've never really killed anything before. Benny: well boo hoo! where do you think the leg of mutton that you eat for supper comes from? it's either that or starve on your trip your choice! {Isaiah looks back at his coins and sighs; Cut to Varian looking over the map of Corona with Eugene and Lance} Eugene: From what we've been able to gather from him The cult has multiple hideouts. they never stay in one place very long. Varian has told us this before but now we have it confirmed by an actual member. or rather a former member. Varian: I was able to find out some of the previous hideouts from him and under your order I've already sent some Scouts to the areas. perhaps we'll be able to find some members still lurking there. Lance: if that's true that means that this group is bigger than we ever thought. Varian: it's because they target those low in spirit. basically people who have been screwed over in life, people easy to manipulate. Eugene: like trying to train an animal to be violent. you can do the beating yourself or let Society do it for you. {a knock sounds through the room; Rapunzel walks in} Eugene: Sunshine! Rapunzel: I think I have an idea. Eugene: well do tell cause this is just getting depressing honestly. Rapunzel: from what Noremoth has told us the cult targets the weak, gives them false promises of Glory, and a better Society. we also know that Noremoth was one of the first to join. Varian: and? Rapunzel: he told you about his past. he was a child on the street. an orphan misanthrope. he may have been given a high rank within the cult but I think he's just another Pawn. and given the fact that he was one of my subjects I feel just as responsible for what happened. Lance: how do we know he's not lying? Rapunzel: the kingdom keeps a book of all subjects, homeless, and those passing through. I decided to take a look back at the pages during my father's reign. he's telling the truth. his name is written in the book. it looks like he came to Corona a little bit before I was found. Varian: I knew King Fredric was a control freak but… Rapunzel: the point is he was a member of Coronin Society. he was ignored and had to fight every day of his life. he never really got to see the true beauty of Corona or life as a whole. Eugene: so what are you suggesting? Rapunzel: we show him some Corona spirit. we show him what it means to be a true Society! to work together! Eugene: we integrate him into our kingdom? Rapunzel: exactly! we show him life doesn't have to be dark and depressing and a constant fight for survival. we teach him to trust again. Varian: I don't know if that'll work. Rapunzel: we have to try. The most beaten of dogs can become the most loyal of hounds if given the chance and a little bit of kindness. {Varian sighs} Varian: sorry but I have request. Rapunzel: Oh um...okay? Varian: it takes place in Old Corona. that way I can keep an eye on him. I’ll alert you if I see any funny business. Lance: sounds fair to me. this whole thing has been really hard on Akina. My girl lost a good friend and Varian lost a son. as long as we can get answers from this guy I don't care what has to be done. Eugene: then I guess it's agreed. I'll have Noremoth released within the hour. {Both rapunzel and Eugene walk out of the room; Lance looks at Varian who groans}

Varian: My wife is going to kill me. {cut to Isaiah being rung up by a cashier} Cashier: one map to Corona. that'll be twenty gold pieces. {isaiah hands it over} Cashier: thank you...you seem a little young to be venturing out. Isaiah: you seem a little old to still be working cashier. Cashier:... touche...now get! {Isaiah walks out of the store and Benny runs over} Benny: Did ya get it? Isaiah: Yeah and it cost me twenty gold pieces. Benny: ouch...how much ya got left? Isaiah: Well that was all my gold pieces. I have 10 silver and 4 copper. Benny: that'll maybe get one loaf of bread and some jerky… Isaiah: I had a sailor tell me the four days walk to Corona but I reason to believe that it's more than that. mostly because he was sleeping on some crates and was probably not in his right mind. Benny: oh yeah it's totally more than 4 days. also he was using a boat so his sense of time is probably a little..meh… Isaiah: Great!...just great...so I got the map but now I do need to hunt for food. how am I supposed to do that without any wea- OOF! {Isaiah falls back after bumping into someone} Isaiah: HEY! WATCH WHERE YOUR-..... {He looks up at Hector} Isaiah: ...Okay...N-Nevermind. Hector: don't I know you from somewhere? Isaiah:... I hope not… Hector:.... you're that kid that was passed out in the cave a few days ago. I told Juniper you were a kid from town. {Hector pulls him up making Isaiah yelp} Isaiah:...gah...A-actually... I'm not from this town I'm not even from this Kingdom I'm trying to get back to Corona. Hector: Corona? you're a long way from home. Isaiah: yeah I just practically spend all my money on a map to go back there. now I need to find a way to get provisions. Hector: you don't need to pay for Provisions around here. the forest has all you could possibly need. Isaiah: do you know how to hunt? Hector: did you really just ask a man with the fur cloak on his back if he knows how to hunt? Isaiah:... that is a very fair point and that one is on me. maybe I should be a little more clear do you know how to hunt when you don't have a weapon. Hector: Good lord kid, how are you not dead? I'll say it again the forest has all you need. break off a stick from a tree and then sharpen it with a rock that should make a pretty good spear. And as for traps.. your little friend hiding By The Fruit stand over there should know all about those. Isaiah: hiding by the-!? {Isaiah turns around to see Benny hiding behind a cart of apples} Isaiah: BENNY! {Benny ducks} Isaiah: I can still see you! Hector: she's always sabotaging traps in the forest trying to steal food. she should be more than aware of how to build and work one. Isaiah: this is some really useful information I don't know how to thank you. Hector: when you get back to Corona... if you could say hello to some people on my behalf it would be most appreciated. {Isaiah turns to leave} Isaiah: yeah I'd be more than happy to just tell me who they are. Hector: my sister Adira and my nephew Varian. Isaiah: Adira and dad!? {Isaiah turns around but hector is already gone; Benny runs up to him} Benny: well did you get an answer to your problem? Isaiah: yeah... but I also think I gained more questions… {Cut to Noremoth sitting next to Varian on the wagon; Cat and Keira sit in the back} Keira: Thanks for giving us a ride, V. Varian: really it's no issue. {Noremoth looks back at Catalina} Noremoth:...Cat? Catalina: I have nothing to say to you. Noremoth: please cat I just want- Keira: she said she has nothing to say to you. back off! {Varian motions Noremoth to turn back around} Noremoth: women will always continue to be a mystery to me. Varian: Noremoth... she's right there. {Catalina stares Angrily at him} Noremoth: nevermind. {She rolls her eyes; as they pull up to Old Corona a Villager runs up} Villager: Varian! Sir! Thank goodness! {Varian is immediately at attention and hopes down} Varian: What's going on? is everyone okay? Villager: it's Nathaniel! we're all worried about him. he went into the South Orchard some time ago and hasn't come out. we sent someone to go check on him and they came right back saying he was just striking a tree with a dagger. Varian: ugh...alright I'll go talk to him. Keira can you put the horse back? Keira: yeah no problem. {Varian walks off; Noremoth grins at Catalina and hmphs and turns away; cut to Nathaniel driving a dagger into an apple tree that is already covered with many holes} Varian: I think you about got that tree, Nathaniel… Nathaniel: AH! Mr.V-Varian!...I was just..I...um..it’s not what it looks like. Varian: well it looks like you're stabbing a tree I don't know how else I'm supposed to take that. {Varian holds out his hand and motions for him to hand over the dagger; Nathaniel hands it over} Varian: now tell me what this is about. recently you haven't been the one to be causing trouble. Nathaniel: I just...umm… {Varian sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose} Varian: Nathaniel you have to tell me what's going o.n this isn't like you. hasn't been like you for a long time. {Nathaniel’s shoulders heave and Varian jumps slightly but his face softens} Nathaniel: I-I’m sorry… Varian: you don't have to apologize Nathaniel I just want to know what's going on. you stabbed a tree it's not like you stabbed person. Nathaniel: me and Isaiah came up with this... it's a way to relieve anger...started off with a flour sack in a pumpkin head. B-but Isaiah started to do it to trees. {Varian bites his lip at the mention of Isaiah} Varian:...Okay... so you developed a healthy way to get rid of your anger. so tell me... what are you angry about? Nathaniel: I..I’m.. Varian:...C’mon buddy... I'm not mad at you I want to make that clear. Just tell me what you're mad about. Nathaniel: I’M MAD AT EVERYTHING! {Varian jumps at his shout} Nathaniel: I'm mad at everything! I was an idiot! I made fun of Isaiah and then he went blind and I got these burns on my arms! my dad betrayed The Village and killed Quirin as a result! A-and with Dad gone I have to put bread on the table by going out to the field every morning! Varian:....Buddy...thats- Nathaniel: and now my best friend is dead! he was murdered! And there's nothing I can do about it! I feel so useless and stupid, and...and tired. I just want everything to go back to the way it was. I want my dad back... I want Isaiah back. I want everything to go back! {Varian walks over, bends down and pulls Nathaniel into a hug; Nathaniel looks shocked at first but eventually hugs back and sobs out loud into his shoulder} Varian:....it...it’s okay...it’s gonna be okay… {Nathaniel continues to cry and unbeknownst to Varian he is crying to; Fade out to Isaiah walking into the forest with Benny} Isaiah: Okay... look for a stick and sharpen it with a rock... seems simple enough. and you little missy since you like to steal from people's traps you get to make some. {He hands over the bag of supplies} Benny: Or ya know we could just steal what’s out here. {Isaiah glares at her} Benny: Fiiinnnee! No Stealing I get it…. {She walks off to set up the traps and Isaiah jumps up and pulls a branch off a tree; He grabs a rock and strikes it a few times} Isaiah: Okay this is going to be a lot harder than I thought… {He hears barking and growling; Benny screams} Isaiah: BENNY! {He grabs his stick and runs in her direction} Isaiah: BENNY! WHERE ARE YOU!? Benny: Over here! {He runs towards her hiding behind a tree} Isaiah: Benny! Are you hurt? Benny: No...but look! { Isaiah turns and sees a thin canine of some sort with its leg caught in a trap} Isaiah: that was fast... did you-? Benny: no! That trap was already set up by a hunter! a professional Hunter! {The wolf lunges but yelps with its leg still caught} Isaiah: H-hang on...hold this… {Isaiah slowly walks over towards it} Benny: What are you doing!? {Isaiah shrugs and slowly inches closer; the wolf growls} Isaiah: Steady... Steady girl... it's okay.. {The wolf bites at him and he dodges} Isaiah:...Verbena... give me your apron. Benny: What!? Isaiah: just give me your apron! I have to trigger the release mechanism on the trap! Benny:... we're all going to die… {She unties it and hands it over; Isaiah takes it and moves to the side} Isaiah: Easy…. {he cautiously places the apron on the wolfs head and pets her side} Isaiah: good girl… {Isaiah reaches down and springs the trap; once the wolf feels that the Trap has been released it immediately moves its foot. the wolf shakes the apron off of its face and stares at Isaiah} Benny: ‘Saiah! Isaiah: Steady...easy girl… { the wolf inches closer and sniffs Isaiah’s face; Isaiah clenches his fists and try to remain absolutely still; after a few moments the wolf begins licking his face} Isaiah: Ah! Haha! Good girl! What a good girl! Benny: Huh!? Isaiah: see you're not a big bad wolf you're just a little puppy dog. Benny: we have very different ideas on what is a little puppy dog. {The wolf flops over for belly rubs} Isaiah: I've read about this breed of wolf it's native to the dark kingdom. a very lean and thin body perfect for running through the trees. a Sleek coat... perfect for blending in. looks like a dog but is actually a wolf. Benny: You're crazy… Isaiah: we could use a nice Guard Dog in Old Corona. Benny: you know what we can also use? some food! stop playing with your puppy and lets actually get some hunting done. Isaiah: all right all right! Benny's quite the Grumpy One! but you'll learn to like her. you need a name. hmm... I know! Gaia! Like the forest! {The wolf groans as he scratches her chin} Isaiah: Oh good girl… {Cut to old Corona; Zapada stares at Noremoth} Noremoth:...Can... can I help you? Varian your wife is staring at me. Varian: she tends to do that at people she doesn't like careful she also bites. Zapada:...grr… Noremoth: what the... anyway... thank you for taking me in. I know you didn't have to. Varian: you're right I didn't have to especially after everything you've done. let's make one thing clear I still don't like you and I don't have to like you. the only reason that you're here in my house is so I can keep an eye on you. the queen believes that you have the chance of being rehabilitated. and considering what happened with me...I want to believe her. Noremoth: what? Varian:.... I want to believe there's good in everyone. you've had it rough I'm not going to lie. you've been used and abused in many different ways. I just need one thing to be made clear. you may not like what I have to say. Noremoth: honestly what could possibly be worse and what I've already went through? Varian: I want to know...are you clear on the fact that the cult has betrayed you? I need to know this because we're giving you a straight shot here. I need to know if you'll take it. Noremoth:.. yes... I do know that. Varian: Good the-!? {Screaming is heard outside} Varian: never a dull moment! {Noremoth watches Varian grab his alchemy belt and sword and run out the door; He looks at Zapadawith concern and follows him; once he’s outside he sees Varian toss a goo bomb at a bandit} Varian: oh petty thieves back for round 2. Bandit 1: do you ever take a vacation? Varian: no not really... {Varian dodges an attack and clashes swords with one of the bandits; Noremoth watches from the road; Varian swipes the feet out from one bandit but is cut on the cheek but another} Varian: Augh! Zapada: Varian! {Varian is hit with the hilt of a sword and hits the ground harshly; Noremoth looks around for a weapon; one of the bandits prepares to bring his sword down on Varian; Varian looks up in shocked horror} Bandit 2: RAGH! {Just as he brings it down Noremoth jumps in with a wooden leg from a table and blocks it; Varian’s eyes widen; Noremoth pushes against the man, his body trembling; eventually he overpowers him and shoves him before smacking the man in the head with the wooden table leg} Bandit 2: AUGH! MY EYE! {one of the other bandits runs over and grabs him} Bandit 1: Fall back! Run! {They jump on their horses and ride away; the crowd of villagers cheer; Noremoth drops the wooden table leg and helps Varian up by the arm} Noremoth: You alright? they did quite a number on you there, you might need some stitches in that cheek..seriously those guys weren't even Petty thieves they were just bullies. Bleh… {Varian rubs his cheek and Zapada runs over and hugs him} Zapada: Iubirea mea! Thank the heavens...O, Doamne! Your face! Varian: I’m okay Zapada...just tired. Zapada: I go fetch the first aid kit! {She runs off} Varian: ...You... you saved my life. Noremoth: I couldn't just stand there and let them decapitate you. despite popular belief Varian I'm not heartless. Varian:...I...I um...thanks...thank you Noremoth. Noremoth: yeah. Don’t mention it. {Cut to Isaiah walking into town with Benny holding a rabbit by the feet and himself holding a bag of three fish; Gaia walks behind them} Benny: I can't believe you're actually keeping that thing. Isaiah: if the dog follows how can you turn it away? Benny: by saying no, go away, or shoo! Also, that’s not a dog. Isaiah: ... well we have a rabbit three fish and two loaves of bread. plus at least we know how to hunt now. we should be able to get back to Corona. Benny: I'm sorry… “we”? Isaiah: yeah! umm... I was going to ask you... I don't really feel comfortable leaving you behind it in the town where you’re scraping by for food every day. {something catches benny’s eye and she walks away from him} Isaiah: you know Coronas a nice place. big Kingdom, lots of people… I'm sure somebody there would be willing to-...Benny? {he looks over and sees her staring in a shop window; curiously he walks over and looks; in the window on a display is a silver pendant necklace with a blue gem in the middle} Isaiah: …. you like that? Benny:.. yeah.. I kept my eye on it every day. it was my mama's. Isaiah: what? Benny: after the fire people started looting around my house. pulling whatever they could from the wreckage. that was my mama's necklace. My papa gave it to her when I was little. Isaiah: and you just come here every day to stare at it? Benny: until the store owner chases me off with his broom… Isaiah:... you got to be kidding me. Benny: huh? {Isaiah walks into the store} Benny: ‘Saiah! Isaiah: excuse me? Shop keeper: how many help you? Isaiah: I was wondering about that pendant in the display window. Shop keeper: that piece of junk? I only put it out there because it looks nice and catches the eye, in reality, it's pretty worthless. Isaiah: Is that so? Shop keeper: quite. the pendant itself may be made out of silver but the gemstone is so comedy. a typical blue sapphire. Not as rare as beautiful as the other gemstones in my shop. if you want to go give you a nice deal on a pretty emerald necklace for a lady friend. Isaiah: what do you want for the pendant? I have 10 silver pieces and 4 copper pieces. I'll give you all I have for it. Shop keeper: hmm...10 silver and 4 copper. Isaiah: you could always smelt down the 10 silver pieces and make a new necklace. I'm sure you have plenty of gems in here to make a far more illustrious necklace. you said yourself it's pretty worthless. Shop keeper: I did. That I did...fine. Deal. {Isaiah throws his money pouch on the counter; The shop keeper goes over and takes the pendent and hands it to him} Isaiah: Pleasure doing business with you. {He walks out of the shop and over to benny} Isaiah: here turn around. {She does so and he places the necklace on her} Benny: ... Mama's.. necklace…Thank you! {She tackles him in a hug: he hugs back} Benny: Thank you so much ‘Saiah! Isaiah: trust me.. I get it. and I was wanting to ask you something. Benny: huh? Isaiah: I don't feel right about leaving you behind. I know the dark kingdom is your home and it's where you were born but you have to think about this. you're only seven and you're living on the streets eating scraps from garbage cans. you talk like you're a grown adult because you’ve been surviving like one. I want the chance to show you how to be a kid. Verbena... will you come back to Corona with me? Benny: what? Isaiah: there's plenty of warm homes and a lot of kind villagers! especially my Village! we're always welcoming of newcomers! I'm sure you'd be able to find a great home there and you wouldn't have to eat loves of moldy bread ever again! I swear it! will you come home with me? {She nods} Benny: mmhmm! Yeah! of course, I'll go! {Gaia runsover and licks them both; Isaiah laughs} Benny: EWWW! Dog germs! {END CREDITS}

#tangled #tangled the series #TTS #RTA #rapunzel’s tangled adventur #matters of the heart #MotH #Noremoth #Rapunzel #Eugene Fitzherbert #lance strongbow #Varian #tts oc #rta oc #fanfic

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jasonfry · 3 years

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Winter rolls along! No baseball! That means catching up with more classic movies everybody’s seen but me!

The Sugarland Express (1974)

This is Steven Spielberg’s first big-screen feature (1971′s Duel was made for TV), and it’s amazing to think it arrived just a year before Jaws, which would change American movies forever.

It’s impossible to watch The Sugarland Express without analyzing it in terms of Spielberg style, which is too bad, because it can be enjoyed perfectly well if you don’t know who the director is. Yes, there are some trademark long takes and inventive camerawork -- the most famous bit is a tricky 360-degree shot inside the getaway car that’s particularly impressive because it’s so easy not to notice -- but this is also a great character movie.

Goldie Hawn’s Lou Jean is simultaneously conniving and childlike, ruthless and clueless, and Hawn brings a frantic intensity to the part. Her husband Clovis is doomed the moment Lou Jean puts her half-assed plan in motion, and William Atherton (of Die Hard fame) does a superb job with an understated role, in which Clovis’s real tragedy is how timidly he navigates the constrained possibilities of his life. They’re joined by Michael Sacks as a kidnapped state trooper, and the three make for a compelling ensemble -- people who understand each other and grasp that their circumstances could easily have been switched around by a chance here or there.

The movie’s ambitious and thoroughly modern -- it’s a chase movie and a marital comedy and a slice of social commentary, and it switches lanes with skill and self-confidence. Maybe it doesn’t quite stick the landing -- there’s a little too much movie blood and the sun-soaked last shot feels like a stylistic departure -- but the ending is gripping even though it unfolds the only way it could, and that’s a hard trick to pull off.

Extra credit because even a relatively uninformed movie fan like me will have a blast moving both forward and backward from The Sugarland Express -- it wouldn’t exist without Bonnie & Clyde, but Raising Arizona wouldn’t exist without it, to identify just two beads on an intriguing string.

Rio Bravo (1959)

Westerns are my comfort food -- give me the right proportions of dusty streets and swinging doors and cacti against sunsets and I’ll overlook a fair number of cinematic/narrative sins. And Howard Hawks’ Rio Bravo whips up the classic ingredients with the nonchalant skill of a veteran short-order cook in a beloved diner -- a tumbleweed even rolls into one of the leads in the first reel, as if to say, “What? It’s a western!”

Rio Bravo is usually framed as a rebuke to High Noon and 3:10 to Yuma, which Hawks and John Wayne despised because those movies dared to depart from the western tropes of flinty-eyed, self-reliant sheriffs and frontier folk banding together. The film Hawks and Wayne made in response is rock-ribbed in its values, unfolds at a languorous pace, and is often mawkish. (It also jerks to a halt for back-to-back duets with Dean Martin and Ricky Nelson, while Wayne stands there and smiles.) It shouldn’t work -- and, to be clear, I don’t think it’s nearly as interesting as the movies it’s arguing with -- but it does.

For one thing, there’s immense skill brought to the storytelling and filmmaking. There’s a self-confidence behind that languor that draws you in, and while the characters are hoary stock figures, their interactions rarely if ever ring false. The actors are solid, too: Martin is a lot better than you might guess as Dude, the deputy with an alcohol problem; Nelson holds his own as a young gunslinger who doesn’t want to get involved but of course eventually does; Walter Brennan has a grand time bouncing off Martin and Wayne in their shared scenes; Angie Dickinson brings some shade and nuance to the role of a gambler’s widow trying to extricate herself from a checkered past; and the bit players are all threatening, comedic, hapless and helpful in the proportions you expect and want.

But unsurprisingly, Wayne is the secret weapon -- the story treatment for Rio Bravo didn’t bother giving his character a name, just calling him “John Wayne.” Imitations of Wayne focus on the swagger and the tough-guy talk but miss that his performances turn on the moments when his characters’ weaknesses undermine their strengths. Wayne’s Sheriff John T. Chance is gentle with Dude’s struggles, knowing well-chosen nudges are the best way to keep his troubled deputy on the right path, and he’s utterly at sea navigating his feelings for Feathers, Dickinson’s character. The Wayne-Dickinson pairing is yet another of those May-December romances that movies of the era were always foisting on actresses, but Wayne wisely leans into the problem, letting Chance be tongue-tied and awkward as the more confident Feathers steers him through uncharted emotional terrain.

Wayne became more cranky and reactionary as he aged, but he never lost the insight that strength is only interesting if paired with weakness. That dynamic sells Chance and Rio Bravo wonderfully. And hey, the Martin-Nelson duets are actually pretty good.

Hawks and Wayne would essentially remake Rio Bravo two more times, first as El Dorado and then as Rio Lobo, and while I’ll tell you now that I don’t feel the need to see either one, jump ahead a couple of years to a late night where I think, “a western would be fun right now,” and I’ll probably wind up watching one of them. Because I bet they’ll work.

That Thing You Do! (1996)

The story of a one-hit wonder band, written and directed by Tom Hanks. The cast is terrific, particularly the luminous Liv Tyler; the title song (written by Adam Schlesinger of Fountains of Wayne) is not only good but also pitch-perfect for its era; and the giddy whoosh of the Wonders’ sudden rise to fame carries the movie along effortlessly for quite a while.

There are only two problems -- but unfortunately, they’re pretty big ones.

First of all, the movie jumps the track completely in its last 20 minutes or so. Tyler’s big speech to her self-obsessed boyfriend feels completely out of character; Tom Everett Scott’s drummer hangs around the most accommodating studio in music history and has a miraculous chance meeting with the jazz musician he idolizes; the hotel’s magical concierge uses the same gag twice and then breaks the fourth wall ... and all of this happens in such rapid succession that I thought I’d hit my head. The movie’s humming along pleasantly enough and then WHAM! everything stops making sense and it never regains its footing.

Second, after a couple of hours it’s already fading from memory, leaving behind the title song, the fun of life on the road and Tyler. I think that’s because while That Thing You Do! is invariably pleasant, it’s also utterly bloodless.

Nothing is played for any stakes. Giovanni Ribsi breaks his arm and loses his spot in the band to Scott, but never seems bothered that he missed out on his friends’ rocket ride. The Wonders’ first manager excuses himself with nary a peep once Hanks arrives to take over. The veteran bands on tour with the Wonders brush the newcomers off at first, but pretty soon they’re all friends. The Wonders’ bassist is infatuated with a Black singer, which would have raised eyebrows in 1964, but the relationship barely makes a ripple. Despite ample warnings that it’s coming, the conflict in the band is mild at worst. Even the love triangle involving Tyler is resolved simply and with no particular fuss -- the Wonders’ lead singer breaks up with her, the drummer takes up with her, and all is well.

The movie presents an attractive surface -- despite all of the above, when I heard there was an extended cut I thought, “I’d hang around with these characters for 40 more minutes” -- but there’s absolutely nothing underneath it. Given the talent on both sides of the camera and the obvious care with which it was made, that’s a shame.

#movies

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hollenka99 · 4 years

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The Mediary

Summary: Jameson suddenly arrives in the next century and is caught between a feud.

Jameson kisses Madeline goodbye as she wishes him good luck with his audition. On the calendar, showing November somewhat prematurely, a wedding date is marked. He heads out the door, oblivious to the fact he'll never walk though it again. At the audition, he is tasked with demonstrating how to carve a pumpkin. Nothing intricate, just a test to see how he'd go about instructing others. Jameson feels it goes well until he accidentally nicks his finger with the knife provided. Those observing offer him a tissue to help staunch the bleeding. He gladly accepts. However, he feels himself spacing out for a few moments. Odd. He was never affected by the sight of blood before. For god's sake, he'd been a soldier long enough to reach the rank of captain. So why had he experienced such a reaction to a small cut? Never mind that, he had an audition to finish. He mentally brushes himself off and carries on as if there was no accidental injury. He tried his best. However, he doubted he'd hear from these people again. Oh well, there was always another role he could try for. There is no reason for him to be suspicious when he steps out of the exit. He is expecting to be greeted by cuboidal automobiles. The street outside the studio had been rather teeming with pedestrians when he'd entered too. His main concern had been avoiding accidentally getting in someone's way as he left. The gentleman doesn't quite understand how he found himself at an unfamiliar doorstep instead. He should not be here. Best to leave before the occupants noticed his trespassing. He is spotted before he get the chance to make his conspicuous escape. "Hey, are you new?" A man who shares a remarkable similarity to him approaches. 'I may be.' A screen appears, startling the both of them. 'What-?' "Don't worry, you're fine. Just talk normally." He speaks again but the screen intrudes the space between them once more. What on earth had happened to his voice? It was simply... gone. This made no sense. He had only been speaking aloud minutes before. Now suddenly the ability had vanished as soon as he'd left the studio. He begins signing but the stranger returns a slightly confused look. Alright, he supposes that was fair. He only knew the language himself because of Eddie. Jameson opens his palm and acts out the motion of writing on his hand. The man understands he's asking for a pen and paper yet apologises for not having any at his disposal. Damn it all. Fine. As much as he hates it, he resorts to allowing the floating screens to transfer his speech. The sooner he could find himself in a position where he could communicate via British sign language or writing, the better. 'I'm sorry for intruding. I don't know how I got here.' "No, you're cool. I don't live here. But I'm here to collect you. I'm Jack, do you have a name yet?" '...Jameson.' It's intended to be spoken warily but the most his message does to convey this is place an ellipsis directly in front of his name. "Well, great to meet you, Jameson. My house is that way if you'd like to talk more without us freezing our asses off out here." Jack points behind him with a thumb lifted over his shoulder. Jack tells him to make himself feel at home once they arrive. He introduces his Danish girlfriend, Signe. Jameson gets the sense she does not exactly want him in her home. Perhaps she is being polite and hospitable for the sake of humouring her partner. Jack provides a notebook for Jameson to write in. He asks his guest about his life and seems fascinated by the little Jameson discloses. As he and Jack chat, his host explains how there were characters known as the egos. They all shared the same face, albeit how they expressed their appearance varied. The problem was that the majority of the egos harboured great animosity towards Jack. He'd made some mistakes he'd rather not delve into which caused them to feel that way. Unfortunately, these misdemeanours had cost him everything. This was why he had created Jameson, who himself was another ego. Jack had decided to challenge himself by attempting to create someone who was even more fleshed out than the others. So, that was all he was, a work of fiction? All his memories were falsely implanted and never truly happened? No, Jack assures him with vigour in his eyes, he was as real as anyone else. In fact, he was further ahead in that regard than any other of the egos. The following day, there is a forceful knocking as Jack shows him where to find potential sandwich fillings for lunch. Jack seems to have an inkling as to who the visitor may be. With a frustrated sigh, grumbling about requiring more time, he heads to the front door. The visitor sounds unhappy from the fragments of speech Jameson overhears. Despite this, Jack lets the stranger in and directs him to the kitchen for introductions. "Chase, this is Jameson. Jameson, Chase." "Great. Progressed to kidnapping the newbies now? Just when I thought you couldn't screw us over any more." The moment Chase lays eyes on him, bitterness begins to infect Jameson's new life. He berates Jack, calling him Sean, for intercepting Jameson before he could enter the egos' house. Ah, so that's who lived in the building he had appeared in front of. After a brief argument, broken up with Signe's intervention, Chase is granted permission to take Jameson where the aggravated stranger believed he belongs. It is not surprising when Jameson is returned to the house. "Asshole said he was Jack and took him home." Chase announces as they pass through the door. "He what?!" A man with shoulder length hair dumps the cat he was cradling back on the sofa at Chase's return. Chase rants to the other ego about Sean. The tour of the building he gives is rushed, as if Jameson wasn't worth the time it took to provide a decent one. There was the living room, kitchen and the bedrooms which were scattered around the building. Jameson stops him to furiously scribble on the notepad. 'Why do you despise Jack so much? He was more than happy to accommodate me.' "Accommodate, my ass. You wanna know why we all think he's a prick? I'll show you." Chase grabs his arm roughly. Through hallways, they travel to a section of the building he can tell is some sort of infirmary. Laid on a bed is another ego. Around his mouth is a mask which presumably aided with breathing. The only part of him that moved was his chest, steadily inflating and falling along with his lungs, which was only just visible under the bedsheets. "This is Jack. He's a prime example of what happens when you keep trusting Sean and believing he actually cares. We're not shitting on Sean for the hell of it. We do it because he's a dick and we'd rather not force anyone else to lose their friend." Jameson has been here before, caught in the midst of Us versus Them. The gentry against the rest of the population, a son who behaved desirably and his less favourable brother, the British against the Arabs. He has been told which side to be loyal to for the entirety of his life and he is tired of it. He will stay in the middle if that's where he wants to be. And as such, there was someone whom required a visit. Sean sounds defeated when he lets him in. "Let me guess, they told you all about how I'm a terrible guy, worse than Satan or whatever." 'They certainly didn't paint you in a good light.' "I bet they didn't." Sean grumbles. 'There is one thing I cannot understand. Why deceive me regarding your identity? It would not matter whether you were Jack or Seán, I would not know the difference. Or, in fact, that there was a distinction to be made in the first place.' "Yeah, I know." He sighs. "I guess I got so used to them acting as if Jack came from above, I assumed the very mention of his name made you lot trust him immediately. To her credit, Signe did tell me it was a stupid idea." 'It certainly was.' "The only thing I lied about was my name. I can promise you that. And I only did it because the rest of them act like they're hardwired to instantly listen to him. Besides, I was known as Jack long before he ever came to exist. I gave Jack my nickname and he made it his own." 'A manipulation tactic then?' "I... I wouldn't go so far as to call it manipulation." There is a pause where he returns eye contact to Jameson. "Listen, once again, I messed up in a big way. It keeps happening to me but I am doing my best to do right by the egos, which includes you now. It was wrong of me to try force you to side with me without hearing from the other half of the argument. For that, I am sorry." 'As I understand it, you feel you are frequently at a disadvantage when it comes to them?' "Constantly, yeah." Jameson considers his next comment thoroughly. 'As it turns out, your welcome was much warmer than your reputation would have me believe. So, for now, I am willing to accept your apology and move on from this bad start.' And with that, Jameson lets bygones be bygones. He did not have it in him to expend such nonsensical energy on that cause. He has a room in the egos' house and therefore makes himself comfortable. There was a window to allow a good amount of natural light in. A model of radio he was familiar with was provided, as was the clock hanging on the wall. He could certainly admire the craftmanship of the wooden pieces of furniture. This was his last remaining slice of the era he once knew. An Irish painter of dolls who went by the name of Shawn Flynn naturally gravitated to him as they both came from the 1930s. As with all of them, there is a language barrier between the two men. However, with enough ink on paper and newly learned yet limited British sign language, they are able to sufficiently communicate. Shawn even had a television like used to make them in his room. In addition to this, a projector and camera to show Bendy cartoons. They spend an afternoon going through the catalogue Shawn has. Sean recruits a reluctant Chase to his side in November. The two of them co-operate on the channel's videos. Apparently, second in command had once been Jack's role. This also allows for Chase to soften slightly towards Jameson as he gets into the swing of his new schedule. It's a good thing too, given that Chase's friendships were negatively affected by his new affiliations. It hadn't taken long to discover any positive affiliation to Sean caused a demotion in the house's social hierarchy. At the top were those like Marvin, Chase and Jackie whom had a specific introductory video, not to mention were popular with Sean's fans. Then came those who mostly owed their existence to the audience and remained in the good graces of the others. And at the bottom were those like himself who didn't care for this feud with their creator. Perhaps their should be a Tier Zero which solely housed Marvin, apparent ringleader of the anti-Sean cause. It's during the middle of Adventide that Jameson has his first indirect introduction to Anti. It is astounding to see the difference fear could cause in everybody. Jackie, who frequently had a hint of venom about him, was trembling in a manner akin to that of a shell shock sufferer at the sound of Silent Night. Marvin follows Chase's lead as his protective instincts express themselves through comfort rather than defence. This was madness. As far as Jameson could see, it was simply a case of malfunctioning pictures and the carol playing faintly in the background. Chase takes a moment to check Jameson and anyone else unfamiliar with Anti were okay. He was largely unaffected personally by tonight so yes, he was fine. Except... there was a common enemy that seemed to surpass Sean on their antagonist scale. And somehow, deep within himself, Jameson knew that unnerved him more than anything else that happened that night. Christmas is a calmer affair than the charity stream of a fortnight prior. Marvin and Chase had discussed Jackie's wellbeing between themselves. Following explaining their intentions to the rest of the household, they surprise the youngest ego with the generous suggestion. A service dog could be beneficial to the young man. However, there would be a lot of preparation and organisation before this idea could come to fruition. It is wonderful to see everyone do their best to maintain high spirits after what sounded like a dreadful year. When Dr Jacksepticeye finds himself becoming corporeal, Jameson and Shawn are the only ones who welcomes him warmly. It is a bitter household to be brought into. Any alliance this doctor could form would serve him well. The others made it clear they would accept only one doctor as their kin. It went without saying that this doctor was the one Jameson had never met. The outcasts had to stick together. God forbid those against Sean spared any kindness to those who held anything less than hatred towards him in their hearts. The doctor quickly sets off on his duties as the new resident medical professional. He is soon referred to as Jase in casual situations, derived from the JSE abbreviation. This naturally transforms into Jason. Chase wins a personal victory in March when it is agreed that he would see his children during the weekend. Given that this aspect of his life had caused him much strife, there is all the more reason celebrate the good fortune. He volunteers to prepare pineapple upside down cake for the party, to which none of them seemingly object. Chase is completely flattered by his friends' gesture. With the table filled with a variety of good food, they all enjoy the afternoon together. The father deserves it. In early May, Shawn opens the door to a dishevelled man in blue scrubs and a white coat. Jameson witnesses their exchange as he happened to be stood in the hallway. It was him, the missing doctor. The painter of toys offers to lead Henrik upstairs to where his friends were. Jameson, meanwhile tasks himself with procuring water for the new arrival. At the appropriate moment, he delivers the drink to the doctor. As the days pass, Jameson gets the opportunity to acquaint himself with Henrik. There is an obvious language barrier but it is easily resolved with Shawn's presence or, failing that, writing his responses by hand. He comes across as a decent man. Even better, he does not seem so hostile against those whom didn't share his views. Given the evil he'd survived for the past 9 months, potentially instigated by a significant lack of judgement on Sean's part, Jameson appreciated that openness. To the surprise of most, Henrik harbours no animosity towards Jason either. In fact, he is relieved there had been someone even remotely qualified to care for Jack during his absence. The tension the others had felt towards the second doctor gradually reduces after this point. It is little over a week later that the renewed happiness amongst his housemates is shattered. Chase leaves to return his daughter's toy to her then Jackie is discovered to have secretly slipped out. Only one comes home that night. Marvin is too beside himself to properly chastise Jackie for worrying them. Jameson heads over to Sean's home to check in on him. He and Chase had been more than professional collaborators, after all. Unsurprisingly, he discovers the egos' creator is beside himself with stress. As much as Jameson tries, he cannot console his friend. Anti had broken into the home of Chase's children and kidnapped the father. That was plain to see from the video evidence. Sean looks Jameson in the eyes and admits he has no control over the demon. Likely never did. He needed to work out how to rescue Anti's third victim and fast. Jameson had faith that the creator could figure something out. However, he did secretly agree that this whole bleak affair seemed hopeless. Marvin is rarely seen outside of his room. Henrik, who also shared a close friendship with Chase, struggles noticeably with these turn of events as well. The 17 year old superhero acts like a delinquent which certainly doesn't help matters. Jameson knows his parents would have never tolerated such unacceptable behaviour from him when he was that age. Still, everyone reacts to tragedy differently. Marvin, Henrik and Jackie may have been the worst affected by Chase's disappearance but they weren't the only ones missing him. An odd newcomer arrives in June. Sean had been playing a game set 30 years into the future in Detroit. Due to this, an automaton enters their lives. It takes a lot of getting used to on Jameson's part. First he had to accustom himself to the 2010s. Now a piece of the 2040s was showing up too. He's fascinated nonetheless. Chase is a shell of himself when they see him again in July. Whatever had happened to him during those three months, it had caused him to retreat within himself. Worse than Jackie ever did, Marvin claims. Chase's only motivator for leaving his bed is to restock his supply of alcohol. The state he is in can only be described using words such as abysmal and disgraceful. While the rest are mourning on the anniversary of losing Jack, Sean doesn't help his cause by playing a guessing game. He starts off with fictional characters from video games. However, the video's last round centres around Jameson himself. When Sean answers yes to questions such as 'Is your character real?', he is able to brush it off. After all, he is fictional in Sean's world. And if Sean believed he'd enjoy the game, he would have to introduce Jameson to Minecraft. That said, the way Sean obfuscates while answering two certain questions is a major cause for concern. Now, Jameson could understand Sean wanting to respect what his friend did while serving was private and protect that privacy on the internet. However, Sean could have easily picked no and moved on. Furthermore, he was not a puppet. His days of serving a purpose for others were long over. Oh, but it's all for show, isn't it? That is what their lives are, entertainment for the masses. He was different from the others though. While all the rest had fragments of an identity pre-creation, he had 28 years worth of memories. It was what set him apart from the others, regardless of personal ties. As terrible as it sounded, he had hoped his status as Sean's most detailed creation would provide better protection from threats such as Anti. He considers speaking to Sean about it. The part that doesn't want to know if his concerns were valid wins. A German Shepherd joins the household in late August. As far as Jameson understands, she had spent her formative years being trained to help those in need of it. Those like Jackie, to put it plainly. It takes time to adjust to the dog being around. However, she dutifully stays by Jackie's side. In the coming weeks, she gets used to her ward's individual habits and needs. Despite remaining distant from most of his neighbours, Jameson is happy to see potential improvement on the horizon for Jackie's wellbeing. Months of Jackie and Henrik debating the matter between themselves comes to a conclusion. Jackie was to lose his legs. Whatever was below his knees, at least. Jameson joined the rest of the egos in wishing their youngest member good luck with his surgery. The hours drag as they await news of success. It does eventually come. Jackie recovers well from the procedure. However, this was apparently far from the end of it. There were still the matters of physical therapy, prothesis and the teenager adapting to his new life as an amputee. The rest of them vow to support him every step of the way. As Halloween, and for that matter his birthday, approached, the atmosphere in the house grows increasingly wary. Sean promises there will be no pumpkin carving video that year. In fact, he'd really gone off of the concept since the past two attempts had only resulted in disaster. Jameson doesn't see what all the fuss is about. They couldn't permanently die. There was no risk in celebrating the holiday. Should any harm come to one of them, the effects would only be short term. Besides, surely the others could focus on other things that day if they so wished. He hated bringing unnecessary attention to himself but well, his birthday was a source of positivity, wasn't it? "Okay, if we're going to let shit slide on any day, your birthday seems like a good one. We wanna hear about your past life." Jackie unexpectedly announces at the dining table on the last day of October. Well, he'd be happy to oblige. Why not? He could certainly tell them about his family. There were his parents, the British military man and his resentful Irish wife. He had a brother and sister too. Eddie had been 4 years older while Jameson recalled being 7 when Rose was born. For a short while, he deviates on tales of Eton before brushing over his path to becoming a captain. He'd love to talk about Madeline but they didn't need to know every detail. The long and short of it was, he'd been of higher birth, obeyed the path his father had encouraged then planned to be a civilian peacefully following his discharge. His arrival in the present had severely affected those plans of a quiet domestic life. With the arrival of November comes the 100th anniversary of armistice. If the majority of the others had limited respect for him due to his friendship with Sean, then so be it. However, he was not prepared to stand by and allow them to disrespect the significance of this occasion to him. He wants a quiet day of reflection alone. He may not have been old enough to serve during the Great War like his brother, nor did he live through its sequel. However, he still had been in the military and had personally known others who'd chosen that path too. Jackie interrupts his time alone but for good reason. He leaves him speechless once more, pulling up a Wikipedia page about a woman named Madeline Grant. "This is her, isn't it?" And oh, it is. The photograph attached to her profile is from 1954 so she's older than he once knew her but there is no doubt about it. That is his Madeline. He dedicates a portion of his afternoon to reading the article in its entirety. She'd managed to be a successful journalist, written a handful of novels and travelled to far off lands. She'd also found someone else to marry. Most importantly, it sounded like she had been happy. And that was all Jameson could have asked for. He attempts to thank Jackie for his thoughtfulness. The most he gets out of the young man is a non-committal shrug and mumbling. The day after, he tells Sean about Jackie's gesture. Sean's certainly had an eventful 2018, allowing him very little time to allocate to learning BSL. It's not much of a bother to Jameson. So long as Sean is willing to learn, he's happy. As he talks about how he wouldn't mind trying to locate some of Madeline's books, it is clear Sean is a little uneasy. "You... do understand she doesn't exist here, right? On this side of the doorway, nobody you knew personally was ever born. You weren't either. I'm sorry for sounding so blunt. I just thought you already knew that." 'I do! I simply must have gotten carried away.' "No, you're good. Maybe you could do some searching over on your side." Sean's mood perks up suddenly. "Hey, you know what? I don't think I have much else to do or prepare for today. I wouldn't mind learning more about her if you're cool with that." On the morning of Sean and Jack's birthday, the egos collectively agree to confront Sean. When the five of them arrive at his doorstep, they are invited to share cake. The discussion results in their creator agreeing to wake Jack up for their joint birthday. The other egos are not subtle with how much they cannot wait to see their friend conscious once more. It is wonderful to see their joy. Angus, as fatigued as he often was, had run when Chase informed him of what was occurring. Jameson spends the whole day astounded. It's almost like he's surrounded by people slightly different to those he usually knew before this. Jack shows signs of becoming overwhelmed numerous times over the course of the day. It is, however, subtly hidden for the sake of the others. Rounds of both cake and pizza slices later, the sky has long grown dark. Jameson signs throughout the entire evening, talking to Jack while Chase acted as translator. The original ego is fascinated by his memories of a life prior to official creation. Jack offered insightful contributions to the conversation. It is incredibly refreshing to be listened to, free from the other party's grudges. He wonders whether Jack would judge him for his connection to Sean. Then again, it would appear the temporarily conscious man was unaware Sean was the one to orchestrate his coma. A few members of the group have retired to bed by the time Jack begins feeling peculiar. Henrik takes charge of the situation immediately. He is soon escorting his patient back to the medial bay. It is a shame for the night to end with such a low point. At least they can be confident that he is in good hands. The mood the following day is understandably low. A number of the egos had kept him at arm's length since his arrival over a year prior. Then there'd been this enigma, the one everyone talked about and was on their minds frequently. He had accepted Jameson without any hesitation. For the limited hours he'd been granted, it had been a pleasure to get to know the original ego. This home had finally known tranquillity for the first time in too long. If only it could last in Jack's absence.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye egos #jameson jackson #creator au #my writing #writersofjack

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geraltcirilla · 4 years

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Your latest daisy/sousa gifset ? Gorgeous, is the quote you used from a showrunner chloe or is it like from someone in the fandom also ie agent carter, everyone was white like the two main female characters were right and so was everyone else, and I don't think it had anything to do with the time period there are shows set way before that are 1000% more inclusive like anne with an e or black sails also no lgbtq characters although that's an issue aos had as well

Thank you!! :’) The quote I used is from Maurissa Tancharoen from this interview with Hypable. I’ll go ahead and give you the entire Daisy portion of that interview because it’s filled with gold.

On the romantic side of things, Chloe Bennet (and several of her co-stars) couldn’t be happier with Daisy’s choice of Daniel Sousa as her partner.

“He’s so stable, and so supportive, and so willing, and so understanding of who she is,” Bennet says. “[Daisy needs] that kind of stability in her life, and that support. And I think it doesn’t hurt that he’s a strapping young man!”

“She has become such a kind of a power house, physically,” Bennet continues. “I love that he kind of brings her down to Earth a little bit.”

For Enver Gjokaj, Sousa’s relationship to Daisy’s power was a crucial factor in their developing bond.

“They don’t seem to have a lot of [things] in common,” he notes, “But the fact that he’s attracted to strong women, and that he’s worked with strong women in his past, and that’s who he is — I think that becomes the foundation for a relationship. The fact [that Daisy’s power is] not threatening to him at all, that that’s actually a positive, that… made total sense to me.”

“And [Gjokaj] played it with such a quiet confidence, and just you’re so grounded,” Bennet continues. “Sousa is so grounded in himself, and he’s not threatened by her as an entity and by Quake, and it actually finds it slightly amusing. which I think is really sweet, actually.”

Clark Gregg also expressed a certain relief at Daisy’s choice, which he feels reflects maturity on the part of friend and castmate Bennet.

“One of the things that happens, especially when you do play a character for 200 years as I have… is that the life and art blend together,” he says, noting that it was challenging to repeatedly “watch Chloe/Daisy go through these various things and get her heart broken, and have people die.”

So “to have Enver show up and create — recreate — the new version [of Sousa], dealing with different kinds of stuff, was just cool!” Gregg says. The character’s new incarnation on Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. was “tough. Not calling attention to himself. It felt so real, and I love so much what he did, and the way that [he and Chloe] just kind of quietly backed into this thing that everybody has been rooting for. [It’s] such a testament to their work in the chaotic final season, and how lucky we were to get Enver. It’s just facts!”

For their part, showrunners Jeff Bell, Maurissa Tancharoen, and Jed Whedon felt it was critical that their cast of female characters be seen as much more than partners in relationships, regardless of how matters concluded.

“They’ve had relationships [but] we never defined them by that,” says Bell. “But Daisy hasn’t had great luck in the past, bad things that happened or it hasn’t worked out. And so when Enver showed up, it was more than we could have imagined. We’d hoped that they would have chemistry, and the fact that it worked so well was great.”

Bell also observes that even more significant than the romantic developments was Daisy’s re-formation of a new kind of family for herself.

It was important, he says to let Daisy’s sister “Kora come over at the end and [give] Daisy family to continue. So it wasn’t just ‘Now I have a boyfriend!’ It was like she had a new unit. I think that was something that happened organically through the force of the storytelling that was a nice thing that we hadn’t foreseen.”

“The whole drive of Daisy’s character arc was, she was in search for her identity. She was in search for her family and where she came from,” agrees Tancharon. “And what she stumbled upon was new one, and so at the end, it’s very clear that she is actually starting her own little family in space, with the man she loves and her actual sister.”

I really love this interview and I’ve loved EVERY interview the cast has done post-series. I don’t think I’ve ever shipped a couple quite so beloved by every single cast member, even people totally uninvolved like Clarke Gregg and Elizabeth Henstridge. This interview was especially sweet because Maurissa confirmed that Sousa and Daisy are in love, which we all though but it’s nice to get the showrunners backing that.

Re: Agent Carter, even when it comes to the female characters Peggy Carter was the only one listed as main cast. Peggy, Jarvis, Jack, Sousa, and Dooley are main cast, Angie, Dottie, and Ana are credited as reoccurring. And Angie was only in s1 (she made a brief cameo in s2 in a dream sequence), and Ana was only in s2. Only Dottie was in both seasons 1 and 2 and she was a villain. So I don’t think I can even give Agent Carter credit for having white women in the show. It’s really bad if you can’t even have white women in your main cast.

Agent Carter had an issue with lack of women, lack of BIPOC cast, and lack of LGBT characters (like you said AOS also has that last issue). The writers of the show actually claimed at the time (because even back then people were calling them out for this) that they were just being “truthful to the time period”, which we all know is a crock of shit. As you said BIPOC and LGBT didn’t suddenly spring into existence in the 2000s and lots of other period piece shows include them as characters.

Also as I said in my previous post, the writers have this unsettling need to woobify and coddle bigots because “they’re a product of their time” and the writers are constantly justifying their behavior and actions and trying to make them seem sympathetic.

But not only that, the feminism felt incredibly shallow and performative.

For example, one of the famous “feminist” lines of the show was “I know my worth. Anyone else’s opinion doesn’t really matter.” Peggy said this after Jack Thompson took all the credit for her work and effort in s1. I remember at the time people were livid because that was a terrible message to be sending women and girls. It’s okay if a man steals your work so long as you believe in yourself...? No. Hell no. That’s not how society progresses forward. Peggy should NOT have accepted that outcome and should have FOUGHT Jack to demand he give her her proper credit. But she didn’t. She rolled over and took it, and we as an audience were supposed to applaud her for it.

Another “feminist moment” is when Sousa catches Peggy helping Howard Stark and the SSR think that she’s a terrorist. So after they arrest her they all take turns interviewing her and she calls them out, saying: “I conducted my own investigation because no one listens to me. I got away with it because no one looks at me, because unless I have your reports, your coffee, or your lunch, I’m invisible.” Except this isn’t exactly true. She wasn’t invisible to Sousa and she didn’t get away with it because he literally caught her. Since episode one Sousa was investigating a strange blonde-haired woman with a scar on her right shoulder who he believed was helping Howard Stark. That woman was Peggy. And he actually figured that out in episode 1x05 and tried to arrest in her 1x06. Given that this is only an 8 episode season Sousa knew about Peggy for almost half the season, but was hunting her for technically the whole season. How is that you being invisible? How is that you getting away with it? How??

Peggy continues and says: “You think you know me, but I've never been more than what each of you has created. [At Dooley] To you, I'm the stray kitten, left on your doorstep to be protected. [At Jack] The secretary turned damsel in distress. [At Sousa] The girl on the pedestal, transformed into some daft whore." This statement was also weird as fuck to me because Sousa never thought she was a whore, never called her a whore, and never accused her of being a whore, etc. When the SSR found out Peggy was helping Howard Stark they were trying to figure out why she would do it. A working theory was she was in love with him (a fair theory given Howard’s a bit of a womanizer and actually has hit on Peggy in the past). So Sousa (along with literally everyone else interviewing her) accused her of having an affair with Howard. But somehow only Sousa received that scalding drag, when technically it was true of everyone. Also how was he viewing her on a pedestal when he called her out all the time (during their “quirky banter”) and once again, investigated her for terrorism. Some pedestal huh. (This quote actually bugs me a lot because some people to this day will reference it as a reason to hate Sousa - “He was obsessed with her and then when he thought she was with Howard he called her a whore!” That never happened, that’s Peggy’s false version of events. I have eyes and a working brain and I watched the season myself and it’s simply untrue.)

Peggy will just say stuff that sound Cool and Empowering but if you break it down and analyze it, make no sense and mean absolutely nothing. It’s just cringey.

And let’s not even get in to the ableist implications of Peggy fantasizing about Sousa suddenly having two legs and being able to walk perfectly. That was her romantic vision of him. A version that could not only walk, but dance. Who throws aside his cane like it was just an accessory. Okay.

I really did not like Agent Carter at all (problematic stuff aside the actual plot sucked) but I watched the whole thing because I was a fan of Peggy Carter and Jarvis and I really wanted to make it work. When it was cancelled I didn’t cry about it, I was actually relieved I wouldn’t have to watch a third season. That show was just such a cringey, embarrassing mess.

Sorry for the long rant about it. It’s been a long time since I talked about this show and it still bothers me to this day because people reflect on the show so fondly and are still making petitions to bring it back as if it’s wasn’t a heaping mess.

Thank God Sousa was saved from that show. lol

Disclaimer to anyone reading this: Me hating the Agenter Carter show is not me hating Peggy Carter. Obviously I love my mans Sousa, and I also love Jarvis and Angie. I loved a lot of the characters and my issues with the show has to do with the showrunners and the writing.

#ask #anon #long post #Anonymous #mine #text

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iblamemikegreen · 3 years

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nobody talks about the destruction that being sexually abused as a child actually causes

ramblings by a survivor fighting to survive: pt 7

narcissism (noun) - selfishness, involving a sense of entitlement, a lack of empathy, and a need for admiration, as characterizing a personality type.

my mother was beautiful. it’s true. a real bonafide beauty queen. armed with poise, grace, talent, natural beauty, carefully practiced soft spoken words, and a constant polite smile.

so shiny and perfect and wonderful. on the outside.

on the inside, however, she was one of the ugliest people to have ever stepped foot on this earth. she was mean, vindictive, manipulative, vain, narcissistic, cruel, selfish. ugly.

another doll in the dollhouse. fooling everyone she came in contact with, having them all think that she was so demure and innocent.

when I was 11 and finally came forward about being repeatedly sexually abused for 6 years by my own grandfather (my mother’s father), my mother decided to sacrifice my safety and well being in order to protect her “Christian reputation.”

“this is embarrassing” “what will the rest of the church think of us?” “Lindsey don't say anything to anyone about this, it’s shameful and gross” “I cant believe this is happening to me”

she never told me that it wasn't my fault. because she blamed me for ruining her perfect world. her perfect family. her perfect image.

instead of blaming my abuser, she blamed me, the terrified and lonely 11 year old victim.

she made the abuse that I had to endure, about herself. her permanent victim mentality bled through into everything, even her own daughter’s sexual abuse. she decided to stick her head in the ground like a coward and pretend like the abuse didn't happen, and if I ever tried to bring it up or exhibited a behavior attributed to PTSD she would cry and make it all about herself. because everything was always about her. always.

more often than not, I find myself wishing that I had a mother that loved me. but she never did, and she never will. so I've decided to lay it all out in the open here and write a public letter to her in order to obtain the closure I need to move on with my life:

Dear Stephanie,

I would like to start off by saying that you lost the right to refer to yourself as my “mother” the second you decided to protect the man who destroyed my childhood instead of protecting me. because of you, the monster that ripped away any sense of safety, happiness, comfort, trust, and humanity from me didn't go to jail. he wasn't even registered as a sex offender. a cretin that sexually abused his own granddaughter from when she was the ages of 5-11 wasn't even registered as a sex offender because YOU and your wretched family cried to the judge and prosecutor because you wanted to protect your false pious reputation. what you did was beyond the realm of evil, and I hope you feel shame for it for the rest of your empty pathetic existence.

when I was 13 I overheard you while you were talking to your morally bankrupt mother on the phone. you were complaining about how I “wasn’t getting any better.” and how “it was embarrassing that I couldn't just let the past go.” well, while you tried to pretend like the abuse just never happened, I couldn't. you don't know what it’s like to have someone hold complete power over you. you don't know what it’s like to live in desolation as a child, fearful of being trapped in a room alone with your grandfather because you know he takes pleasure in hurting and destroying everything that you are. you don't know what it’s like to have your innocence and childhood completely ripped from your tiny fingertips before you even know how to spell your own fucking name. you never even bothered to try and understand the pain and suffering I had to endure. you didn't care about anything other than yourself, and your public image.

you never apologized. and you never will, because you’re too far gone to even being to understand the calamity of your shitty parenting, and your heinous decisions. you created your own false reality, and separated yourself from the true world because all you wanted was attention. me being the victim of sexual abuse was just too much of the “spotlight” not being directed to you, so you decided to make yourself the victim in all of this. any mention of what I had to endure and you’d cry, asking why this happened to you. your reputation, your family, you you you you you you you.

a few years after the “scandal,” as you so gracefully put it, happened, you and I were shopping at the mall. all of a sudden you pulled me aside into a store, giggling as you did so. when I asked what was going on, you pointed across the hall and there he was. the monster that tortured and molested me for six years, walking with his enabler of a wife, hand and hand, shopping at the same mall as us. you were treating it as if it were some kind of innocent game of hide and seek. acting as though me having to see the embodiment of detrimental and ground wavering fear and pain was no big deal. you got angry at me when I started crying, because I was ruining your shopping trip.

you’re impossible to reach, because you don't even exist anymore. you just don't get it. you’re not even human. you’re just a phantom, remnants of some washed up beauty queen who was so narcissistic and vain that she couldn't stand her own daughter surviving life destroying trauma at age 11 because it drew attention from you.

you were my biggest bully throughout the entirety of my life. no matter what I did, it was never good enough for you. or maybe it was, and you just thought it was fun to build me up one step, then cut me down five steps. I was always too ugly, too fat, too smart, too stupid, too untalented, too poorly dressed, too bad at makeup, too this, too that, not enough this, not enough that. it was exhausting, talking to you. being around your suffocatingly negative and jealous aura. you were so insecure about yourself and your fading beauty queen looks that you took it all out on your only child, like a miserable old hag. and yet you wondered why I never wanted to cultivate a relationship with you.

I still vividly remember the moment I realized that you never loved me. it was June 2010, I was 15, and you and my dad were in the midst of a stressful divorce. it was stressful because you refused to leave the house, even though you weren't welcome, because you just loved to make everyone around you completely miserable; but I digress. we were sitting in your car in front of the house, and I told you that when the divorce was finalized I wanted to live with my dad full time, and for him to have full custody of me. it was then that you turned, looked directly at me, and said, “Lindsey that’s not fair. I don't want to have to pay child support.” you truly a miserable monster, just like your mother, and just like your father.

there aren't enough words in this galaxy to explain how much you completely and utterly failed me in every aspect of being a mother. and honestly, I just don't have the time to waste on you anymore. I'm writing this to fully stop all of these thoughts, all these words left unsaid, from continuing to circle around in my brain. you aren't worth the stress, you really aren't. I cant even remember the last time I spoke to you, or saw you, because I cut off all contact years ago. maybe once upon a time I needed you as my mother, but when I realized that you were never one to begin with, that need faded. I grew strong on my own. I am who I am because I made me, and I did a hell of a good job. you don't get to take any credit in my successes, in my life, in my survival, because you are nothing to me. congratulations, Stephanie. you finally get what you’ve always wanted, the unwavering heat of the spotlight, because I'm exiting your stage for good.

I don't forgive you, I'm not sure I ever will. because you don't deserve it. saying, “I'm sorry for whatever I may have done to upset you,” is NOT an apology. it’s not even a small step in taking actual accountability. but I don't expect much from someone as selfish and fake as you.

before you try to pretend to cry and say that I'm being mean to you, just know this, you aren't a victim. I'm not your true adversary here. you are your own worst enemy. these are just the consequences to your own narcissistic and evil actions, and you have to live with them forever in your empty, loveless, fake life.

you’ve always preached about how much of a “good christian” you are, and threw me away in order to protect that precious reputation of yours, so I'll end with this: I hope you’re somewhere praying.

Sincerely,

The Daughter Who No Longer Thinks Of You

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years

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A/W 2020 Fashion Month: Before Vogue Went Blank (Part 2)

Hi to anyone reading,

I was going to start this post by jumping straight into Dion Lee and part 2 in general but there's been a lot going on the past couple of days-although this blog is primarily fashion, it wouldn’t feel right to start talking about designers without acknowledging all the shit that’s been going down.

^Photo Credit to @spiltcoco on Twitter

Yesterday, police footage came out of US police murdering yet another black man in broad daylight-George Floyd. He joins Sandra Bland, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Freddie Gray, and Alton Sterling, plus hundreds more named and god knows how many more unnamed African American citizens in the ever-growing list of victims of police brutality.

The majority of these are just people going about their daily lives, a majority of them doing absolutely nothing wrong; even those we know to have committed crimes have been unarmed and non-violent offenders. That being said, their offences are beside the point when we’ve seen the white perpetrators of mass shootings be calmly cuffed and escorted into the backs of police cars as if they were the ones selling cigarettes without permits. American police, given the amount of them that are armed, regularly become judge, jury and executioner trained for 8 weeks by an institution that originated from slave patrols. I cannot imagine how terrifying it is just to walk around as a PoC in America. I cannot imagine the collective trauma that has been suffered because of recent events on top of the intergenerational trauma that most likely exists because of centuries of oppression. I cannot imagine what it’s like to live in a country that was built to suppress you and was by law allowed to do so until very recently, those original structures still in place. I cannot imagine what it’s like to be made to feel like this is your fault. I mean, Boris Johnson is a useless, cold-hearted twat and I won’t defend him or this country for a minute (we have much blood on our own hands, and racial profiling is just as much a thing here as it is in America-I read earlier that you’re 28 times more likely to be stopped and searched in London as a non-white person compared to a white person), but I still can’t imagine him publicly advocating for the mass murder of groups he knows to be primarily made up of black people via Twitter. This whole situation is so unimaginably fucked up; anyone who still sees America as one of the world’s most developed nations needs to take a long, hard look at what is going on and reconsider that opinion.

Whilst we can’t fix everything, we can all speak up and make our voices heard, and it is our duty to do so. It’s not good enough to just “not be racist”, you have to be ANTI-racism, even if that means constantly reflecting on your own privilege and challenging your assumptions. Neutrality is complicity. Signing a petition isn’t going to change the world, but it’s a start:

https://www.change.org/p/mayor-jacob-frey-justice-for-george-floyd?recruiter=false&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=twitter&utm_campaign=psf_combo_share_initial&utm_term=psf_combo_share_abi&recruited_by_id=7ba70000-a127-11ea-87fb-d1ff0bf6ea96

As I publish this, there’s less than 50,000 signatures needed to hit the target of 6,000,000 so if you happen to see it, get signing! There are lots of other petitions online but Change.org seems to be the only major one you can sign in the UK as the other are US based and require a zip code. I never thought I’d close a paragraph by quoting Macklemore but the line “no freedom 'til we're equal, damn right I support it” is at the forefront of my mind right now. Again, neutrality is complicity. We’re never going to achieve a fair society by sitting on our asses and hoping things will improve. Let’s all do the best we can.

Sorry if that intro wasn’t what you came here for, but I just think it’s so important to talk about. I know I’ve said in the past that fashion is supposed to be an escape from everyday life but there are some times when real life needs our attention and this is one of them. Feel free to unfollow if you disagree.

Anyway, onto the fashion. If this is the first post you’re reading, welcome! There’s a part 1! But I don’t wanna be pushy so start here if you wish!

If you read part 1, welcome back!

I ended that post by practically falling at the feet of Dilara Findikoglu, and I so wanted to start this post by regaining a sense of dignity and go straight into what-the-fuck-ing at Dior, but I know breaking chronological order would really piss off those “OmG I’m SoOo OCD, tHis BuzZfeEd aRtiCle WiTh DiFfereNt SiZed TiLes ToLd Me!” which is basically me minus claiming liking things to be organised means I have OCD-no, just dermatillomania and the denial that a compulsive skin picking disorder has anything to do with OCD because the neuroses club that is my brain doesn’t have any space left. SO, I have to continue where I left off and star the post with Dion Lee, whose collections I am a big fan of.

I could ramble a bit more but I did enough of that at the beginning of part 1 and am sure I’ll do more than enough in this post anyway, so here it is, Dion Lee:

Considering we ended with the maximalism of Dilara Findikoglu, sliding back over towards the other far end of the scale with a designer that tends to pitch their tent on the borders of the minimalism camp feels correct. Dion Lee, fortunately, seems the perfect collection to open with. There aren’t many other brands who do edge in such an understated and masterful way. If you want to be ready for combat and look like you’d fit right in at Vogue at the same time, look no further. This season’s collection is full of perfectly placed cut outs and immaculate tailoring and subtle street fighter-esque details as ever, and that’s why it pains me to say it:

Not that this is enough in the way of critique to restore my dignity by any means, it’s not a patch on last season.

I don’t think there was a single bad look in that show, and at times it felt like I was weeding through them here. When the looks were good, they were GOOD but a lot I found to be disappointing. Plus I have no idea why you’d put tie-dye in an A/W collection. I appreciate that it’s an Australian brand and that our winter is their summer, but they’re presenting to the rest of the world at fashion week and anyone in Paris, Milan, London and New York is going to be freezing their tits off and looking like a twat in an orange tie-dye sundress. There wasn’t much of a dip in quality for the menswear compared to last season, but honestly womenswear left a lot to be desired. That’s what happens when your expectations are high.

I used to think that if you assume the worst, it’s impossible to feel let down. And then I saw Dior’s A/W 2020 collection. Did a full 180 on that statement.

I suppose it’s a step up from haute couture, but then at least the styling in that was simple, and it just didn’t look like anybody had tried at all; here it’s clear Maria Grazia chucked everything she could at this collection, every headscarf, every gingham print, every shallow feminist undertone, and it was still a fucking mess. At first you think some of the individual pieces are cute but have just been ruined by the styling, and then you begin to look, and realise that even those individual pieces could’ve easily been bought in a New Look Boxing Day sale.

THIS IS CHRISTIAN DIOR, SUPPOSEDLY ONE OF THE MOST LUXURIOUS BRANDS OUT THERE. WHAT IS GOING ON!?

I don’t know, I included as many looks that I didn't mind as I could, but it’s like there always has to be a crappy, unnecessary detail in there. Everything is so literal. Of course the collection based around the divine feminine has the models dressed like basic ass Greek goddesses, so of course the collection based around the modern woman and equality has women walking the runway in ties and ill-fitting shoes too. Maria Grazia, here is a box:

Think outside of it.

Next is, thankfully, Elie Saab:

No, not exactly a trailblazer of a collection, but executed with poise and elegance as always. I mean, the styling is spot on. It looks like each part of the outfit was made for another, to contribute to a whole clearly envisioned look, similar to what we saw in the Alberta Ferretti show. Elie Saab is known for its haute couture shows where all the tiny details, the sequins and the silk and the embroidery come together to make something beautiful, and this is just that on a larger scale, with less “wow”s and more quiet admiration, more wishing you were the one wearing that outfit. If you’re gonna play safe, do it this well. The night dresses are stunning of course, but not even my favourite bit of the show. It’s the casual looks, the pussy bows and the ruffles and the neck scarfs and the private girls school monochrome colour palette with the occasional pop of red or purple, a toned down version of what we saw at haute couture, any of which deserve to be worn whilst eating macarons in front of the Eiffel Tower before trip to Musee D’Orsay. It’s Poppy Moore’s school uniform grown up and made fit for a fashion magazine editor:

Somehow managing to cram an Emma Roberts early 2010s fashion moment into every post is my talent, who knew. Wild Child was really a gem.

Erdem was a mixed bag:

With a lot of the outfits, I can’t tell if I actually like the garments that much or if I just like the look as a whole. I mean, without sounding too gluten-free Callie from the Valley, I like the VIBE, but there was a lot of outfits I almost included before I had to ask myself “LAUREN, do you ACTUALLY like this or do you just like the walking-into-your-sugar-daddy’s-will-reading-to-claim-his-fortune DRAMA of it all!?”

It happened a couple of times, where once I took off my black and white, theatrical violin accompanied entrance filtered sunglasses, I realised that the actual print was ugly. A collection so cohesively ornamental and kitschy is going to lean too far into that at times, and they were a few overly-fussy moments where it seemed less nudge nudge wink wink and more like Erdem Moralıoğlu fell into his grandma’s wardrobe, stole some fabric, and called it a day. I don’t want to sound like I’m not a fan of the collection because overall it’s gorgeous, I just thought it was a bit much at times.

Continuing with the theme of clever seasonal continuity that weaved its way throughout this year’s A/W offerings, Ermanno Scervino kept the core of his summer collection and made it just that little bit darker, added some weight to everything, and this is one of the rare occasions where I like the winter incarnation a lot more. I’m not huge about either but there’s a lot of things I’d love to wear here, the coats especially.

Up next is a reliable favourite of mine:

Etro.

Was it REALLY necessary for you to include ALL those coats I hear you ask?

Alaska Thunderfuck as Gia Gunn voice: Absolutelyyyy.

When it comes to bohemian fashion, Etro is unbeaten. Everything is always exquisitely coordinated and styled. Like I usually fucking hate aztec print but I love the way it’s done here. I’ve never known a brand to make belts seem like such an integral, tasteful part of the outfit in a field where they so often seem like a last minute addition for the sake of accessorising; it pains me to say it, but Elie Saab, I’m looking at you. It’s your only fault.

Yes for bringing back embroidered jeans! Yes for all those high necks! Yes for the tapestry print! Yes for the Afghan waistcoats! Etro will keep fedoras cool forever and I love them for that; I don’t know if she ever actually wore any of their stuff but I just know Stevie Nicks was in her prime would’ve ate this shit UP and she is my style icon for the ages. Plus, I might be way off base here but a lot of the collection seems to be inspired by traditional Romani style and it’s a beautiful direction to take things, a treasure trove of layers upon layers and rich textures and opulent prints.

I can’t wait til the phase of my phase of my life where I can swan around in maxi dresses and ponchos. I just hope those maxi dresses and ponchos are Etro.

Onto another brand which hasn’t had a bad show since I started my reviews: Fendi. This season, they took their late 60s/early 70s wild child aesthetic and gave a millionaire’s high maintenance wife spin on it, and what’s not to like about that?

I mean, Fendi is a brand which is always going to excel in its F/W presentations-the rich, bohemian prints (pro-tip: if you can’t already tell, me mentioning the word bohemian in a review pretty much guarantees I like the collection), the furs, and the warm colour palette all perfectly translate into clothes suited for walks through a city going through a post-summer burnout, where it rains red and orange leaves. You can tell Silvia Fendi is in her element when she’s got texture to play with, something that comes across in the gorgeous coats Fendi consistently puts out, and this season continues that trend. Plus, there’s a lot of adorable details here-shoes that show off the decorative socks underneath, the cube shaped bags and those furry ear muffs which I hope bring about a high street muff renaissance because they’re the equivalent of slipper socks for my ears and THEY’RE ACTUALLY REALLY PRACTICAL. The only thing I’m not in love with is the mirrored glasses, and I can’t help but think how replacing them with a pair of grandad style aviators would be the icing on the cake for the collection. Maybe I just need to see Miss Robyn Rihanna Fenty wearing them and then I’ll get on board. Usually works.

Ah, GCDS. I got so excited for it after last season but this time round, it was a bit of a disappointment. There were a few outfits that semi-matched up to how cutting-edge I saw their last collection, however a lot of the pieces looked pretty low quality. I get that streetwear is in the name, but it’s supposed to be a high fashion take on that, and a lot of the looks were quite pedestrian. Stand outs are the top 2 rows and the leather motocross style jumpsuit on the far right, third row down, but the quality of these pieces wasn’t consistent across the board and I feel like I ended up having to convince myself I liked some of the others just so I had enough photos to justify including the brand. It really sucks when I look back on how ahead of the game last season’s collection was-we’re talking outfits that wouldn’t be out of place on Instagram’s Tokyofashion page and as far as I’m concerned that’s the fashion holy grail. Some of these looks, especially the menswear, could be from a Boohoo TV ad and that makes me sad.

Meanwhile, Giambattista Valli put out a collection that looked like a virtual postcard of Parisian fashion; if a St-Germain-des-Prés streetwear themed Instagram doesn’t exist already, someone should capitalise on that, stat, because if my typical vision of French feminine fashion is correct it would be full of outfits like this. I feel like this is what a fashion novice EXPECTS Chanel to look like. Trust me-these days the reality is much more disappointing.

There’s many things I'm happy to see here besides the tulle and florals and prettiness I expect of the brand. Obviously the berets and the bows and the elbow length gloves are the kind of off-duty ballerina style touches I’ve become accustomed to but there are also some nice surprises here: the military style white jacket, the unexpected snake motif on clothing that’s otherwise overly delicate, and to my delight the return of the boater hat. IDGAF, this is the summer where I’m buying myself one off Ebay and making this happen for me whether they become a “thing” or not. I shouldn’t squander having this little of a double chin; the opportunity may never present itself again.

I haven’t watched Killing Eve in a longggg time since there’s only so much of two women attempting to kill each other and then miraculously avoiding death you can watch but I’d love to see Vilanelle prancing round a city in this kinda shit slitting some necks again. I hope that doesn’t make me sound like too much of a sadist; only in a purely fictional world is this something I want to see, I assure you.

Givenchy was really, really great this season too, imo. Definitely a step up from the last RTW anyway. Aside from the drama of the exaggerated floppy brim hats and the quirky tassle detail dresses a la Schiaparelli, a lot of these outfits kinda remind me of something a Miranda Priestly/Cruella De Vil type would wear, and you know me; I’m all for that kind of intimidating, about-to-either-slap-you-or-fire-your-ass bad bitch energy. The gathered leather gloves with the androgynous subtly checkered power suits feels CORRECT and if Giambattista Valli is the bottom in this relationship, Givenchy is the top. Am I allowed to reinforce sapphic relationship stereotypes as a bi girl? Probably not. I’m sorry. Won’t do it again. Just this once. And you know I’m right really xoxo

And OMFG Gucci. Another impeccable collection for me, honestly. Once again, it’s probably my favourite of the season. How it is that Alessandro Michelle gets it SO right for me despite his vision being so bold and different every time? He has this specific brand of strange, conceptual beauty which blends past and present trends in a way so supreme it should be considered art. It’s not a term to throw around loosely but the man is a genius, and tbh I’m still not over the human head props from the 2018 F/W winter show.

In my Haute Couture week review, I talked about the Viktor and Rolf collection (which I loved, don’t get me wrong!) and said that pretty meets grunge is my fave thing ever-this is that, but much even more substantial and intelligent. The Wes Anderson-esque pieces or that late 60s/early 70s hipster aesthetic that I loved in last season’s show hasn’t been done away with either-be it the level of detail or the colour scheme, it all somehow fits together. Never did I think I’d see dresses fit for porcelain dolls through the lens of Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen seamlessly slotted in between outfits that could’ve been put together from the clothing rack of Dazed and Confused’s costume department. I want it all-opulent fur-trimmed coats, crucifix jewellery and pilgrim hats I’m sure both Edgar Allan Poe and modern goths would approve of, and the tiered skirts that wouldn’t be out of place in a Westworld saloon. The models were delightfully sad and almost creepy looking and I wouldn’t change that for the world. To say 10/10 doesn’t do it justice, so I’m gonna have to open a reviewer’s can of worms and say 100/100.

Gucci is a tough act to follow, and I’m sorry it has to fall onto the shoulders of Halpern. In the nicest possible way (as if there is any nice way of saying it), I don’t think I any expected anything but a downgrade, so if anything, my standards will be lower so...Michael Halpern, you can thank me I guess?

That was really mean, I’m sorry. It’s not a bad collection, and I definitely like it more than last season’s. It’s a slightly garish colour palette at times but an exciting one in spite of that, which when paired with the animal print dotted throughout makes this collection the perfect fit for a tropical beach party or at the very least, a semi-decent night at the Caribbean themed bar in your local town centre. The sequins and silk, a Halpern trademark, are as tastefully done as ever, and seeing them on the models, I can’t deny these are some power fits-the kind of clothes you are bound to look and feel confident in; if you wanted to play queen of the urban jungle for a night, this is what you need to be wearing.

Ah, Hermes.

Generally not one to stoke a fire inside me. In all fairness, the tailoring here is really, really nice and French biker chic, and the pieces are perfectly crafted-it’s not that I don’t like the outfits because I think that if I saw one of them individually in a natural, messier setting I’d probably be impressed. These are classy, elegant winter looks and what more could you want when you’re looking for outfit inspiration for this season? It’s just that it’s always a little too neat and uniform for me, and on the runway I like my fashion to be risky. This could almost be the sophisticated mother to a Tommy Hilfiger collection and whilst that’s something I would probably wear if I wanted to look put together, it’s not what you get excited to see at fashion week. Primary colours all together aren’t where it’s at for me either, the infamous colour scheme of the cheap plastic playhouses you’d find in the garden of every working/middle class British household back in the day. Yes, I had one. So did the after school club I was forced to attend whilst my mum was at work. Apparently the negative connotations are still too much for me (a boy I went to the after school club with did once fall off the back of one and crack his head open so maybe it’s justified).

Isabel Marant was pretty much exactly what you’d expect from Isabel Marant; if the Etro bohemian woman is one who rolls out of bed and chucks on the first thing she sees, the Isabel Marant bohemian woman is the one who claims she’s done the same thing but who actually planned it all out the night before. She designs for the gluten-free, bikram yoga Kourtney Kardashian style “hippy” who claims to be a free-spirit but would definitely not do acid with you. I was gonna say it was a collection for the Gwyneth Paltrows of the world but then I remembered Gwyneth proudly released a candle she claimed smelled like her vagina and changed my mind-she’d definitely do acid with you.

It’s definitely a cohesive transition from the summer collection; both have that seemingly laid-back, clean-cut vibe, and cater to the rich, impeccably groomed scented candle loving woman everywhere. Obviously the pieces are a tad more suited to an alpine lodge in Switzerland than a beach in Malibu this time round, but that same mild colour palette, pretty, naturalistic patterns, and generally relaxed fit persists. It’s cute enough.

J.W Anderson is a bit of an enigma.

Despite the experimental silhouettes and the kooky details that you think would very “look at me!”, the collections still seem to have a chilled, easy-going feel to them. They toy about with the strange but remain entirely sophisticated whilst doing so-I think it’s because aside from the little quirks that make the garments J.W Anderson, they’re otherwise fairly reserved and simple; even the quirks themselves mostly tend to be exaggerated, more conceptual takes on more typical stylistic motifs anyway. Anderson has a knack for producing statement pieces that don’t look like they’re trying too hard to be statement pieces, a talent he expertly deploys at Loewe as well. Whilst Maison Margiela collections are like the fashion equivalent of that Jughead “I’m weird, I’m a weirdo” speech, J.W Anderson’s refusal to conform is quiet and modest. I like it. It’s not generally my personal style but I can admire the thought behind the work, and there are still some things I’d love to try. I have a few standouts-the shoes with the hoop detailing dancing from the ankle straps, the dress on the bottom right with what appears to be art nouveau typography on, the trench coat with the cape detailing and the gossamer dress to its right are all stunning, especially that dress. If I ever want to dress as the bubble Glinda the Good Witch descends in when she meets Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I know where to go, though I don’t suppose there’s going to be an occasion that calls for that any time soon. Can I just have the dress anyway?

Kim Shui is another new designer I found through blessed Twitter screencaps-thanks guys for doing my research for me. Much appreciated.

But anyways! Like Charlotte Knowles, it’s clear she’s still establishing her aesthetic as a designer, and thus far I love it. The whimsical, throwback prints on urban silhouettes that range from the androgynous suits of city dwelling cool girls to the amped-up sex appeal of nightclub dresses is gorgeous, especially twinned with dainty headscarfs and opera gloves-all in all I think this a very cool and wearable collection and I’m looking forward to the next collection she puts out.

Next up is Lacoste, and IDK why I always include their collections to be honest, considering they’re not really known for “high fashion”. I guess it’s because my dad has collected Lacoste shirts since I was little so I kinda have a soft spot for it and feel obligated to include it every time presentation season comes around. Yes, the outfits are unbearably preppy and the colours are garish but I feel like that’s kind of the appeal? So what if some of the tracksuits look like they could’ve been pulled out of a bad mafia movie? I see the argyle jumpers, with a bit of wear and tear, as a charity shop gem my sister would come across (she has the #Y2K Depop girl knack for finding old designer pieces in the shittiest charity shops without the audacity to try and sell them at a 70% markup) that I would then steal from her wardrobe to wear myself, contrasted with a ripped mini skirt, chains and and docs. I see the POTENTIAL of a look that is very fuck you to the rich middle age tory styling we see here. It’s punk, okay?

Lanvin was STUNNING this time around. Maybe it’s because I’ve been watching Mad Men recently and it reminds me of the fashion on that-which I hope somebody won an award for at the time BTW, it is SO fucking good-but I just adore every look here. I can’t even remember if I reviewed Lanvin’s SS20 show, and so clearly if I did it wasn’t that memorable (no shade intended), however this collection is a different story. Every single one of these outfits is iconic movie moment worthy, a 60s Cher Horowitz plaid two piece equivalent that would get screencapped and replicated ad-nauseam, all the best looks of Betty Draper and Peggy Olsen and Joan Holloway and Megan Calvet brought together and refined for the modern day woman. I might even consider sacrificing my anti-royalist principles if it meant I could transport myself back in time and switch bodies with Grace Kelly so I could make this collection my princess-off-duty wardrobe and drive around Monaco in that Bella Hadid look, roof down, all the drama of the fur trim and the gloves and hair whipping about in the wind (but in this unrealistic vision I can actually see what I’m doing and I’m not choking on random strands and swearing at Mother Nature as if she is a real entity with a personal vendetta against me).

Loewe! More J.W Anderson! I’m gonna try not to repeat myself by arsekissing too much all over again and get the good points out of the way quickly! So rapid fire: elegant! Delicious colour palette! Interesting shapes! I think I’m seeing a Victorian/Edwardian influence there! Correct me if I’m wrong! I like it! The coats are strong! Remind me of the suffragettes! But lets pretend in this case these Loewe style coat wearing suffragettes are not raging classists!

AH. Apart from that, it was a bit too austere for me. I definitely preferred Anderson’s eponymous collection; there were a fair few recurring details in this show that I couldn’t get behind that I didn’t include, in particular this bib-like black panel that just kept popping up on everything. Sorry J.W Anderson. But a 50% success rate is still good! And at the end of the day, having 2 collections on Vogue Runway at once is more prestigious than the accumulative total of every accomplishment I’ll probably ever have achieved in my life by the time I’m on my deathbed so what do I know anyway? Sigh:( At least I’ll always have the honour of having the largest head by circumference of my class in year 4, right *sweats nervously*!?!?!

Louis Vuitton was definitely a downgrade on last season for me. There were for sure elements I liked-the Vera Wang-esuqe mixing of the tulle bustle skirts with the rougher, more masculine biker inspired vests and jackets was a cool choice, reminiscent of Gucci’s mixing of the lace dresses with harnesses. I enjoyed the baroque jackets and subtle nods to steampunk style too. Though we’ve already seen it a lot this season, the wet look coat with fur trim I can’t help falling in love with, and I’m immune to the potential ugliness of the muted blue monotone look purely on the basis I can picture Ripley from Alien in it. So like I said-it’s not as if I hated it. I guess when it comes down to it, the collection wasn’t bad so much as I just had higher hopes. I will say though, the staging was INCREDIBLE. As a history nerd, I never thought I’d see the day when a Henry the 8th lookalike actor was part of the backdrop of a Paris fashion week show-and I always thought there was no interesting career path for me in the subject!

And another big name I don’t tend to be so partial to, Maison Margiela. IDK, I did like last season but I wasn’t a fan of haute couture and it took me a while to warm to this. Call it deconstructed, experimental, whatever, but you know when you can’t decide what to wear and you’re in a rush so you kinda just throw all the shit you decided against into a pile? Well, my initial thought was that this season Margiela is kinda that, on the runway.

I will say, once I let go of my need to see a clear shape, a lot of the individual pieces were stunning (NOT the puffed up tabis though, I still can’t even get behind the regular ones). I guess I just wish they’d go for less is more with the styling because as it currently stands, it makes it hard to actually take the clothes in.

Ultimately, one thing you can always say about Margiela, like their clothes or not, is that it has a monopoly on being effortlessly bold.

Marc Jacobs I really liked again, though I will say it doesn’t stand out quite like the S/S collection did. That was absolutely STUNNING-I can’t remember specifically where I ranked it in my top ten but I know it was at least in the top 5. This, on the other hand, is...pretty. It’s very pretty, and very put together, so I’m not saying at all that I don’t rate it. I suppose it’s just a lot simpler than I expected it to be-I don’t have a problem with simplicity, at all, especially if it’s what a brand is known for but I feel like part of the appeal with Marc Jacobs is that it’s pretty kooky. I mean, not Thom Browne or Margiela kooky, but commercial kooky at least. I feel like the kookiness is lacking here? And that’s where this feeling is coming from? And also, the fact that Lanvin tackled the same era and did it a lot better? So there’s that, too. Plus, I adore Miley Cyrus but...why? Random celebrities waking the runway just doesn’t do it for me-it always comes across as a publicity grab, as if the designer isn’t confident enough in their collection’s ability to get people talking on its own, and I suppose in this case that says it all really.

Margaret Howell was...well, Margaret Howell. She’s known for her basics, and they’re always pretty non-offensive “regulation hottie” in the words of the icon that is Damian from Mean Girls. It’s been, what, four years? More? Since I last watched that film but I’m pretty sure watching it about twenty times between the ages of 9 and 15 tattooed it on my brain. I include her because even though they don’t get my pulse racing, I like these pieces; considering the fact that expecting straight white men to ever have style on the level of barbiedrugz (his instagram is my favourite thing ever) or Rickey Thompson is ludicrous, Margaret Howell’s menswear looks are probably are the best, realistic goal for any future partner. Because I like my men dressed like Paddington bear/a depressed Brown University English lit lecturer, okay? Or in other words, Will Graham from Hannibal.

Marine Serre had a few good moments-the looks that I liked were the ones that stayed within her lane of blending the weird with the visually appealing. There were a lot of cool things going on, and I like the utility vibe (the boot with the pouch detailing and the mask are perfect examples of this done well), but outside the fits I picked out a lot of it went over my head tbh.

Marques Almeida is a show I was looking forward to-it has such a youthful, experimental quality to its collections (it’s no surprise the designers said they were influenced by the HBO show Euphoria this year!), similar to Central Saint Martins, and you can tell the designers (Marta Marques and Paulo Almeida) are based in London too; we are talking about the birthplace of the punk fashion movement, and as a designer it’s probably almost a rite of passage that you incorporate elements of that into your work. Marques Almeida does that with a flair and consistency you can count on. Their clothes don’t have the wildest silhouettes or anything like that but the fun they have playing around with print and colour and the ease and confidence with which they settle on those combinations always comes through-the black and white coat with the yellow furs trim is one of my favourite pieces from the entirety of this season’s offerings.

I wasn’t so fond of Max Mara’s SS20 collection and I'm not gonna lie, this isn’t THAT much of a step up for me personally. It’s just one of those brands I feel obligated to include because it’s talked about quite a bit but I’m not totally sure if it’s for me. Too monotone, but I’ll give it another season! And I mean, there is a slight improvement here-this collection is a lot more laid back than the stiff, austere feel of the last, and there are some very well fitted and structured pieces. A lot of the looks kinda remind me of a 2020, fashion take on The Breakfast Club’s “Basket Case”, which is kinda cool, and just from looking at the clothes, the high price tag is palpable. Also, scruffy hair club unite! Though obviously it’s intentional here! That’ll be my excuse for the next time I turn up at work looking like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards-Max Mara made me do it.

Ending on those words of wisdom, I’m gonna bring this post to a close, because I can’t fit any more photos in! I’m desperately hoping that I can fit this all into 3 parts like I did with my last RTW review but even if I do have to make 4 posts, I still include my top 10 shows as I did before. I hope to get that post up within the next couple of weeks! After that, I’ve shot a Lana Del Rey inspired by each of her different albums and “era”s though given last week’s events I’m on the fence about whether to post it or not, especially given her silence over the last couple of days. I’m really proud of what I’ve put together and I’ll always love her art and music (I have 2 bloody tattoos, for fuck’s sake!), so I’m trying to think how I can reconcile that with those awfully worded posts and just the general lack of awareness of bigger issues that she’s displayed the last week. JFC, being a Lana stan has always been so chilled up until now. All the very valid and important takes aside, that “Lana pls delete that post and apologise, we can’t fight the barbz all your stans are depressed” tweet is the only good thing to come out of this shitshow. He got a point. Breathing feels like effort lately:( IDK, if you’re also a Lana stan and you have any opinions on the matter, feel free to DM me, because I’m feeling pretty conflicted rn.

Most importantly though, are the issues I opened this post by talking about, and I thought I’d finish by including the thread of petitions I saw on Twitter. Like I said, a lot of them aren’t available to sign in the UK but to anyone who read up until this point (thank you!) idk where you’re reading from so maybe some of them will apply to you:

https://twitter.com/yericvIt/status/1265801832930045953

Also, while we’re at it, because every tory voting twat seems to treat our country as if it’s some beacon of hope where racism is non-existent and love to tell PoC to stop moaning about their experiences, here’s a thread of black British men and women who have lost their lives to police violence:

https://twitter.com/illh0eminati/status/1266441604170223617

Thank you for reading until the end. I hope that you enjoyed the fashion part of the post but also that if you did read this far, you read the other bits too if you didn’t know what was going on already. It seems like everyone does but you forget that Twitter’s a bit of an echo chamber and that outside of it, there’s a lot of ignorance, whether intentional or not. I know Tumblr has a similar audience to Twitter so I imagine there’s loads on here about everything going on too, but ya know. I wanted to talk about it just incase.

Stay safe, keep fighting the good fight, and again, thank you for reading!<3

Lauren x

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