#flying isn’t allowed on the server and yet this guy seemed to be doing just that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thanksjro · 3 years

Text

Bayverse: Treating These Movies with More Dignity than They Deserve or Contain, Because I’m a Goddamned Professional - Part One

TRANSFORMERS (2007) - UNCOMFORTABLE SEXUAL TENSION BETWEEN TEENAGERS THAT I DIDN’T NEED TO SEE

So.

This is a little different than what I usually do.

Clearly.

God, how did we even get here?

Oh, I remember.

The date was September 17th, 2020, and I was in a stream with nine or ten other people watching the first Bayverse Transformers movie. Why we were watching it doesn’t particularly matter- sometimes you just gotta watch garbage so you can refresh your palate for the good stuff, I suppose. Also, a couple of folks wanted to make goo-goo eyes at Blackout’s rotors.

...It’s not my thing, but I’m glad they’ve got something to make the journey worth taking.

I made some sort of comment about only using my brain for this blog’s content, and someone (you know who you are :)) suggested that I take a proper look at the film. Being who I am, I immediately latched onto this idea, despite it being technically outside of what I write about.

And then I quintuple-downed, because winners don’t quit.

Good to know that my BA in Film Production wasn’t a complete waste of time.

Fun fact, I broke my television trying to watch Transformers for this. I think the universe was trying to stop me, by making me perform surgery on electronics, and also aggravating my carpal tunnel.

This movie came out when I was 13, and it was the first Transformers thing I saw after Cybertron. Yes, the anime one. No, not the one that’s objectively terrible.

Anyway.

How did I feel about Transformers when I saw it the first time? Well… it was okay. I liked the robots. I thought Mikaela was pretty, not that I knew what that meant back then. I watched it a few times, if only because my oldest younger brother kept renting it at Blockbuster. It was fun.

Now I’m older, and wiser, and know feminist theory, so my opinion is less “this exists” and more “blind, murderous rage”.

Our film opens up with some claptrap about the Cube™, a MacGuffin of ultimate power that allows the Transformers to create worlds in their image and populate them. Which means this is how they reproduce.

It always comes back to baby-making, doesn’t it?

The narration goes on about how the Cube™ is very powerful, and some folks wanted it for good, and others for evil. The criteria for being “good” and “evil” isn’t established, and I’m not exactly sure how one would define such a thing, when all the Cube™ does is create life, but, well, we’ve only just begun. Maybe we’ll get some answers later on.

Haha, I doubt it.

So, the Cube™ is the catalyst for our 4 million year war this continuity, and that sucker was lost in the shuffle a while back. This is a problem, because, again, the Cube™ is how the Transformers reproduce. Now everyone’s in a mad scramble to find the thing so their species doesn’t die out.

Three guesses as to where it ended up, and the first two don’t count.

Smashcut to the shit nobody cares about- the humans. We see an Osprey fly over the Qatar desert, carrying a buttload of American soldiers. We get a taste of some good old-fashioned xenophobia, as several soldiers mock a guy for not speaking English and loving his mother’s cooking, going full “funny haha gibberish language” on him. We’re two and a half minutes into the film, and I already want to stab something.

Ed Sheeran breaks into the conversation, I guess because he was feeling left out, revealing that he is the New Yorker stereotype of the film, for some reason. The fellas ask their captain, Lennox, what he’s looking forward to most about getting home from their tour, and he reveals himself to be a family man. While he’s been away, his wife had a baby, who he hasn’t so much as held yet. His men respond by mocking him.

For loving his child.

We’re three minutes into the film, and the toxic masculinity might actually make me have an aneurysm.

The Ospreys land, the lads disembark, and we get a snapshot of what downtime during deployment looks like to Bay. There are a lot of kiddie swimming pools involved. Two men play basketball. We watch multiple men take outdoor showers. A young Qatari boy brings Lennox a camelback water pack with a smile on his face. This lets me know that he’s a prop and not a character in this film. I can’t wait to see how many horrors he’ll be put through to simulate pathos.

We get a shot of a helicopter flying over the desert, one that the US military doesn’t recognize as their own. They send a couple of planes to check it out, and said planes get their shop wrecked. The helicopter is revealed to be the same ‘copter that was shot down several months prior. That’s… not good. Ghost helicopter?

No. Not at all, actually.

Lennox gets on a video chat with his wife and daughter, who is wearing one of the most ridiculous baby outfits I’ve seen in a hot minute. And I used to work in childcare, so I’ve seen a good amount of those. The writing implies that normal bodily functions are unladylike and therefore undesirable… in an infant… and that’s when all hell breaks loose, thankfully saving me from more of Bay trying to make me give a shit about these characters.

The helicopter lands, we get a shot of the mustachioed pilot, who glitches (gasp), and the line “have your crew step out or we will kill you” is uttered. Not even trying to hide the nationalism, are you?

This film hit theaters in 2007, when the xenophobia from 9/11 was still heavy in the air of the general populace, so things like this were more tolerated, and in fact approved of. Of course, it’s not like America has really improved on that subject, or ever really had a point where we weren’t terrible about it, since we live in a world where the military-entertainment complex exists.

See, the Department of Defense and a good chunk of American entertainment industries have a little deal going, and have for the last few decades, and it goes like this: The DoD will allow the use of their vehicles, personnel, and bases, or the likenesses of such, for free, in exchange for their operations being shown in a positive/morally justified light. This is why you never see the armed forces portrayed in a way that makes them out as anything less than heroes- nobody would be able to afford the sets/likenesses without the DoD’s aid. This is also why you see straight-up advertisements for the military branches on televison, in cinemas, and online, and why both the Army and Navy have flirted with having Twitch channels.

It’s all a ploy to get you to join the military, kids. It’s propaganda.

But enough about that, it’s time for our first transformation sequence!

We get a lot of moving parts with this, since it’s realistic CGI in a live-action movie, and it still holds up. It’s hard to tell what’s actually happening, but it, if nothing else, feels alien, surreal, and horrific to behold. They even included the original sound effect in the cacophony, which is nice.

Our ghost helicopter reveals itself to be a Transformer, not that we get that terminology at any point in this film. This specifically is Blackout, a Decepticon. The soldiers start firing on him the moment he starts transforming, then are surprised when the thing they started shooting with several guns retaliates. This is the point where everything ever in this military base explodes, brilliantly and repeatedly, because it wouldn’t be a Bay film without it. There’s a lot of shouting and bright lights, and I’m positively certain that a great deal of people died during this fight.

It’s just a shame that I don’t care.

Blackout rips the top off of a building like it’s a tin of anchovies, and then snags all the hard drives he can, downloading everything. This is a problem, but it seems like nobody was prepared for a giant alien robot hack-attack, because in order to shut down the power to the servers, you need to be able to unlock the breaker box, and no one seems to have the key. They solve the problem with a fire ax.

Lennox is leading the Qatari boy through the base towards safety. I should mention that it’s night now, and several hours seem to have passed since the Ospreys landed, so I don’t know why this kid is still here. He’s got, like, a house and family to go home to.

We get some more tank-throwing action, Sergeant Epps almost gets flattened under Blackout’s foot, then the movie decides it’s going to try to make things more interesting by having each shot cut flash, for whatever reason.

Someone shoots Blackout with a rocket launcher, I think, and this is the point where he throws his tiny little man off his back to go do his job. Yes, Blackout’s got a baby, and that baby is Scorponok, his symbiotic pal who likes to dig into the ground and be a sneaky little bastard.

Blackout blows up a ton more military equipment and personnel, and then it’s time for another smashcut.

Now we’re in high school, just like all those dreams I’ve had where I’ve forgotten my homework. This is where we meet Sam Witwicky, our main character, and also the stand-in for our target demographic. He’s insufferable, and I don’t like him. Mikaela Banes, our love interest, is also present in this scene, but we don’t get to know about her character for, like, another 20 minutes, because who gives a shit about women, right? They’re just props, right?

Right???

RIGHT??????????

RIGH-

Sam is presenting on his great-great-grandfather, Archibald Witwicky, for his family genealogy report, in front of a class containing maybe three actors who are age appropriate.

I know child labor laws are a good thing, and that hiring adults to play teenagers is just the lay of the land, but I swear some of these students look like they’re old enough to be on their second mortgage and third kid.

Anyway.

Archibald Witwicky was an explorer, one of the first to traverse the Arctic circle, and apparently his crew was made up of folks from 2007, because I swear the clothing for a few of these dudes isn’t period-appropriate. We get a seamen joke, because of course we do, and a sextant joke, because of course we do. Sam is also hawking all this crap he’s brought in for the presentation, because he is a little bastard who has no idea what his peers would want to buy, or really how to relate to them at all. He’s selling these “priceless” artifacts so he can get a car. Mikaela finds this charming, for some fucking reason. Also, her boyfriend is weirdly stroking her shoulder blade with his knuckles the whole time this is happening, and I hate it.

Archibald Witwicky went mad after his expedition, talking about an “ice man” so often that his family ended up locking him in a mental asylum, likely to be forgotten about. Which is sad. But we won’t be getting into the medical mistreatment of the mentally ill in Bayverse, now will we? That’s just Too Deep™.

Sam’s teacher didn’t very much appreciate having his class be turned into an episode of Antiques Roadshow, but still gives Sam an “A” on the project, despite it being a very poor report that lasted all of two minutes. I suspect the teacher has tenure, and therefore no longer gives a shit about academic integrity. This “A” means that Sam’s father will buy him a car.

Which is nice, I suppose, if I gave a damn.

Sam’s father, Ron, picks up his son in a car he probably bought at the crux of his midlife crisis, in a green that reminds me of a school gymnasium floor, then plays a prank on his child by pretending to pull into the Porsche dealership. Sam isn’t getting a Porsche, which is good, because he doesn’t deserve one. As Sam gripes to his father, a yellow Camaro drives by oh so conspicuously. Wonder what’s up with that.

Instead of the Porshe dealership, they head over to the used car lot, which is being run by Bobby Bolivia, who spends his time yelling at his employees and wanting to murder his mother. Sam is incredibly ungrateful about the fact that his dad is helping him get a car, even though it’s his FIRST car, and nobody gets a nice one the first go around. Or, at least, they shouldn’t, given the statistics about accidents with young drivers.

“No sacrifice, no victory” is uttered by Ron, which is the family motto, or so he claims. Archibald Witwicky said the same thing when he had multiple people dying trying to get to the Arctic Circle, so there’s precedence for the phrase, but we’ll see how it holds up throughout the film.

Bobby Bolivia shows Sam and Ron the cars he has for sale, and Sam is immediately drawn to the yellow Camaro in the lot, though there’s a small problem- it’s too expensive for what he and his father agreed to. Also, nobody knows where the hell it came from, so paperwork might be an issue. When Bobby tries to show Sam the yellow Beetle they have right down the line, everything explodes, because this is a Bay film, and fuck the original material this movie was based on. Bobby lets them have the Camaro for a lower price, suddenly fearful of whatever strange powers have just visited his place of business. “The car picks the driver” is suddenly more than a bullshit line to spout off in order to sell cars, and I’m certain that’s shaken the poor man.

Over in Washington, D.C., the Secretary of Defense prepares to address just what the hell happened in Qatar, lamenting on how young the audience he’s going to be speaking to is. In particular, he’s referring to the two dweebs and the hot chick sitting in one of the rows. All the women in this movie who aren’t someone’s mom are made up to be very pretty. And not even in a realistic way. But we’ll get to that in a bit.

So, the military network was hacked. That’s bad. Nobody knows who did it. That’s also bad. The only lead the US has is a soundbite, which is the signal that hacked the network.

Everyone here at the briefing is going to be helping to figure this mess out. This is great, if you like looking at Rachael Taylor for a few seconds at a time, and can compartmentalize hard enough to make that worth the effort of watching this godforsaken film.

Back at the Witwicky household, we meet Mojo, a chihuahua with a cast that doesn’t seem like it’s actually doing anything. I wish he was the main character instead of Sam.

Sam arrives home from the dealership, and says “alright, Mojo, I’ve got the car. Now I need the girl.”

As if ownership of a person is something to aspire to.

As if women are property to be owned.

As if women aren’t people, but rather commodities.

We’re 17.5 minutes into this film.

We’re introduced to Judy, Sam’s mother. She’s shrill, and annoying. This is by design, because none of the women in this film are actually people, but rather archetypes to bounce off of the male characters.

Sam and his father have a moment of what some might consider banter, then Sam gets huffy with his mom over gender roles for the dog. I, for one, think Mojo looks positively dashing in his bedazzled collar, and to hell with whatever Sam says to the contrary.

Sam drives off to go be a misogynist, with the promise to be back by 11PM.

Over in Qatar, the soldiers and that little boy are running from the attack on their base, as Lennox’s wife watches a public announcement on the matter back at home. The Secretary of Defense lets us know that we’re at DEFCON Delta at this point. Lennox Jr. cries, and all I can think about is how they probably pinched that baby to make that happen. They pinched a baby for Transformers (2007).

The soldiers in Qatar talk about shit they have no idea about, Sergeant Epps going on about somehow having been able to see a forcefield around Blackout through his super special binoculars. I don’t know how, or why, he knows this. I don’t know anything anymore.

Ed Sheeran has his doubts about this whole thing, and Lennox is also present in the scene, because I guess he’s important. Through a bit of dramatic irony, Fig- the guy everyone was making fun of for being bilingual at the start of the film- says that this probably isn’t over, as the shape of Scorponok shifts through the sand just beyond them.

Epps is having a minor crisis over the fact that Blackout saw him, but we don’t have time for that, because we’ve got to get to cover. The lads decide to head to the little Qatari boy’s house. Again, I wonder why he was at the base at all, considering that it seems like they’ve been traveling for a good portion of the day.

Back with Sam, he’s picked up his friend Miles, and together they’re going to a lake party. Are they invited to this party? Yes, but also no. It’s public property though, so it should be fine. As they park, Sam notices that Mikaela is here, which is great for him.

Mikaela’s boyfriend, Trent- whose name I had to look up- is a massive tool, and starts pestering the two boys for daring to exist in his airspace. Miles climbs a tree. I’m glad he’s having fun, at least. Sam makes a joke at the expense of people with brain injuries, and this for some reason? Warrants a shot of Mikaela making the blank “pretty girl” face? In response?

Mikaela saves Sam from becoming a wet stain on the grass, which is very kind of her, and more than Sam really deserves. Trent, his boys, and Mikaela start to head off for another party, to get away from Sam and his tree-loving friend. Mikaela offers to drive, and Trent says that she can’t handle his truck, because she’s a ~girl~. This causes Mikaela to ditch him, and start walking home.

The script knows enough about misogyny to know that this would be a nice “take that”. Michael Bay, however, likely fails to see why everything he did with said script involving this character is a goddamned problem.

Because Mikaela, bless her heart, has a lot of problems.

Let’s start with the outfit: a croptop, a jean skirt that BARELY covers her ass, and a pair of wedge heels that are at least four inches tall. On a character that is, at oldest, freshly 18.

Look, I’m all about self-expression and the freedom to choose how you dress for yourself and yourself alone, but this clearly isn’t that. This is a character, not a person, whose wardrobe was designed for the straight male gaze. She’s wearing fucking STRAP HEELS to the lake. This is about oogling. This is about reducing a whole-ass person to the same status as a piece of meat. In fact, who was on wardrobe for this? I’d like to have a few words with-

A woman? Okay, well, what else has she worked on?

You can’t be fucking serious.

ANYWAY.

Miles just called Mikaela an “evil jock concubine.” I don’t like Miles anymore.

As Mikaela walks down the road, strutting hard enough that I’ve got sympathy pains in my hips, the radio in the Camaro turns on, playing “Drive” by the Cars, and giving Sam a hell of an idea; he’s gonna drive Mikaela home, so she doesn’t have to walk the 10 miles to her house. Why he knows how far she lives from the lake isn’t addressed.

Sam kicks Miles out of the car and goes to give Mikaela a ride, which she accepts after a bit of self-deliberation, and also him making an ass of himself. The shot here is framed with Sam like he’s a normal-ass person, and Mikaela from her breasts to the top of her waist. Because of COURSE it is.

She hops in the car and then goes off about her taste in hot guys. Which is weird, and out of left field. Sam is about as confused as I am, then continues to make a fool of himself. This is his nature as a person. Mikaela has no idea who Sam is, even though they’ve gone to the same school for the last 10 years and have multiple classes together. And the fact that she was staring him down all through his genealogy presentation. And at the lake.

This movie isn’t very well thought out, I feel.

It’s at this point the the Camaro turns the key on itself and starts to sputter out and die, as “Sexual Healing” by Marvin Gaye pops on the radio.

I don’t like how this car is trying to get Sam laid.

I don’t like how this car is trying to get Sam laid with a girl who didn’t even know his name five minutes ago.

I don’t like how this car knows what sex is.

The Camaro breaks down on a cliff, and Mikaela hops out to work on the engine, and also to get the hell away from Sam’s sputtering.

As Mikaela admires the sweet engine in this Camaro, showing off her knowledge of cars, we get several shots of her from her breasts to her thighs, while Sam is treated like an actual person. Don’t bother trying to play it off as an artistic choice, Bay, this is blatant horndogging. This adds to NOTHING, other than my ire.

Sam says more stupid shit, and Mikaela, who must be the nicest fucking person in the world, just tells him to fire up the engine so she can try to sort out the problem. Then he asks why she goes for jackasses like Trent, and she decides that she’s hit her limit for today, opting to walk the rest of the way home. Good on you, Mikaela. Don’t take Sam’s bullshit.

Sam, realizing that he’s put his foot in his mouth for the 80th time today, pleads with his Camaro to do him a solid and work, and this actually works out for him. Great. Sam, victorious, once again offers Mikaela a ride, which she, once again, takes.

He drops her off without further incident, and she thanks him for listening. Even though they didn’t really talk that much. I dunno, maybe they had a super deep conversation offscreen. Mikaela asks Sam if he thinks she’s shallow, because clearly all women need approval from the men around them, and Sam says that there’s more to her than meets the eye.

Which made me groan aloud.

Anyway, she gets inside without a problem, and Sam professes his love for his new Camaro for allowing him to talk to a girl. Or at least talk at her.

Back in Washington, D.C., at the Pentagon National Military Command Center, we’re making weirdly racist calls on who hacked the military.

Up with Air Force One, a conspicuous boombox transforms into a robot, and then runs off to hack shit. The President of the United States requests some snack cakes. A flight attendant goes down to storage to retrieve said snack cakes, and finds that boombox in the elevator with her. Considering this is Air Force One, you’d perhaps expect her to immediately be suspicious of such a thing, but this is Bayverse, and we don’t think here.

The flight attendant brings the boombox down with her and places it on the counter as she goes to get the presidential snack cakes. The boombox immediately disappears. Now, you’d perhaps expect her to immediately be suspicious of such a thing, but this is Bayverse-

The flight attendant opens up the snack cake package, for some reason, and drops the cake on the floor. She then proceeds to eat it, and then act shocked when it tastes like floor. There’s a robot in her fucking line of sight, and you’d perhaps expect her to immediately be suspicious of such a thing-

She leaves to go feed the President floor cakes, and our little robot friend gets to work stealing government secrets. He, if nothing else, looks pretty cool doing it. He’s a very pointy lad.

Back at the Pentagon, Maddie- Rachael Taylor’s character- can hear the hacking. This sends everyone into a panic, because, well, that shouldn’t be happening. The hacking noise is a direct match to the one from Qatar, so that’s obviously a problem.

Back on Air Force One, our little robot friend is looking for “Project Iceman”, which he very quickly finds, and downloads everything they’ve got on it, and also plants a virus. The process seems to be… doing things to him. It’s weird. This movie is weird.

The Pentagon cuts all the system hardlines, stopping the process, but it’s too late- he got what he wanted, just about. Two security personnel come into the room, and the robot kills them both with some spinning blade disc nonsense. Air Force One is forced to land for the safety of everyone on-board. More security detail comes in to deal with the little bastard, but he transforms into a boombox and sits on a shelf to avoid suspicion. Now, you’d perhaps expect-

With the plane grounded, our robot is able to walk his little ass over to a cop car. And when I say walk, I do mean walk; this fucker is in multiple folks’ line of sight and nobody notices a thing. When he enters the car, he’s greeted by the mustachioed driver- the same driver who was operating the helicopter at the beginning of the film. This mustache man is a holographic avatar, one that’s being used by all the Decepticons.

We get our first real taste of Cybertronian language, as our robot- it’s Frenzy, his name is Frenzy- lets everyone know that he’s found a clue to the location of the AllSpark, and, through the power of the internet, knows where to find the guy who’s gonna give them what they need.

Three guesses to who it is, and the first two don’t count.

Back at the Witwicky household, Sam’s car does a runner in the middle of the night. Sam, horrified that his property is being stolen, pursues on a bike, screaming at his dad to call the cops. Sam also calls the cops, as he tears through the neighborhood.

The Camaro breaks into an abandoned building, Sam follows, and we finally get a shot of our audience appeal character. Sam watches in disbelief as a giant yellow space robot shines a beacon into the sky, then makes a video on his flip phone recording the experience. He apologizes to his parents for owning pornographic magazines, and goes to face his probable demise.

However, death does not come from above, instead manifesting itself as two of the strongest junkyard dogs in the known universe, who break their brick-inlaid chains to get at this little dip of a man. Sam is chased through the yard, climbing on top of a couple precarious oil drums, even though there’s a ladder, like, right there. The Camaro rolls in, scaring off the dogs, and Sam bolts, throwing the keys to his ride at his ride. When he gets outside, the cops have arrived, and immediately arrest him.

Back with the US government, the Secretary of State is having a conversation about all the bullshit that just went down with Air Force One. He and his fellow cishet old white men discuss their options, until Maddie comes in to set them straight on some of the facts. They act all indignant about it, because women can’t be smart, right?

Right???

RIGHT??????????

RIGH-

Anyway, we get a weird little deflection of Maddie’s role in everything, because a woman is nothing without the men around her, then she brings up the point that the bullshit that happened on Air Force One went down in just a few seconds, which isn’t something that anyone can actually do. She brings up quantum mechanics, which everyone blows off as nonsense- not that I wouldn’t as well- and theorizes on a DNA-based computer, which is technically a thing, if not trapped in the realm of speculation. It’s at this point that the Secretary of Defense tells her to come back when she can back these wild claims up, and isn’t just clearly spitballing.

And then he snaps his fingers at her, and any point he might have had leaves my brain so I have more room for being enraged.

Back with Sam, we’re at the police station talking to the cops. His dad is here, and Sam is trying to explain that his car is a dude. Even though he took at a video (one that was likely crap, given how quickly he spun his phone around to show off what he was seeing) the cops, understandably, don’t believe him. Then one of them, not so understandably, starts… threatening Sam? With his sidearm? And daring him to try something? This isn’t any sort of statement on the corruption of American law enforcement, it’s just bizarre.

Back in Qatar, our soldier buddies have found a telephone line, and are going to try to use it to get in contact with the rest of the world. It’s just too bad that Scorponok’s decided to make an entrance, and knock said telephone line the hell down. Ed Sheeran has next to no reaction to this, despite it happening maybe ten feet behind him. Fig speaks Spanish, and Ed Sheeran makes a point to be an asshole about it.

Scorponok is about to stab Lennox with his very pointy tail, when Epps notices- finally, someone with peripheral vision- and starts shooting. Then everyone starts shooting, kicking up enough sand to blind themselves, as Scorponok scuttles away, buries himself, then reappears behind Ed Sheeran.

Ed Sheeran does not survive this experience.

The others bolt, not wanting the same to happen to them, and for the fourth time I wonder just why the hell this young boy was at the base in the first place.

Off in the distance, the community of a nearby town wonders just what the shit is going on out in the desert. Our soldiers run into the town, and everyone gets their guns and start firing on Scorponok, who retaliates, because why the hell wouldn’t he?

Lennox demands that the young boy take him to his father, and proceeds to borrow his phone. As shit goes down outside, we have a sort-of gag where Lennox is trying to contact the Pentagon, while a telemarketer tries to get him to buy a phone package. In order for this call to go through, he’s going to need a credit card. This is where the well-known “pocket” scene comes from, as Lennox searches Epps’ pants for his wallet as he fires on Scorponok. It’s probably the best-written thing in this whole film.

With the credit card acquired, Lennox finally gets through to the Pentagon, and tosses Epps the phone so he can talk. Maybe he’s got anxiety about speaking on the phone, I dunno.

Scorponok shows off his disregard for historical architecture, blowing up several buildings, and the US government just watches this all go down. One of the actors in this scene looks like my dad, and it trips me up every time he’s on screen. Anyway, now the Pentagon knows about the giant space robots running around in Qatar. They send over some air support about it. All this manages to do is piss Scorponok off.

So they try it again.

This time it works, sort of.

At the very least, he’s left now.

Tail fell off, though.

Also, Fig’s been grievously wounded. The others, for once, don’t make fun of his native language while they help him hold his blood inside his body.

Back at the Pentagon, Maddie’s looking to prove that the bullshit that’s been going on is of the sci-fi variety, and in order to do that, she’s going to need a little outside help. She takes the information from the Pentagon, slaps it into an SD card, hides that shit in her blush compact, and then runs out the door to Glenn Whitmann’s house. Or, rather, his grandma’s house.

Glenn is a hacker, and shouldn’t be seeing anything that Maddie’s brought him, but everyone knows that confidentiality is for nerds, so whatever.

Back at the Pentagon, Maddie’s immediately been caught. It’s almost like slapping the military network onto an SD card maybe wasn’t such a hot idea. But what do I know?

Glenn takes a look at the soundbite and figures out that there’s a code embedded in the thing in about two seconds. Good to know our tax dollars are being well-spent on the US military, that some dude in his jammies can figure this shit out faster than a whole team of analysts. They figure out that “Project Iceman” is involved with this somehow, and also the existence of Sector Seven. It’s at this point that the FBI busts in. Good. I kind of want Maddie to go to jail for this, because she was about as stupid as she could be handling the situation.

Glenn’s cousin goes through a closed glass door- don’t worry, it’s tempered- and there’s a weird cut before that exact same shot continues, and he’s tackled into the pool. There was no reason for that to have happened, but here we are.

Back with Sam, we’re treated to him in his boxers, shooting basketballs in his room. He goes into the kitchen, where Mojo is standing on a stool. It’s a very tall stool, the sort you sit on, and he’s just… there. I don’t know how he got there. There’s no one else in the room besides Sam, and I know he didn’t put him there.

Clearly this must mean Mojo is God, and being on that stool is his divine will. I will be approaching the rest of the franchise with this in mind, because it’s clearly the only answer.

Our merciful Lord Mojo jumps up on the kitchen counter and begins growling at something through the window. Sam looks out… the opposite window… to find that his Camaro has returned to him, and is less than thrilled about it, to put it lightly. He drops a jug of milk- luckily it was mostly empty, given the sound it makes when it hits the floor- and gives his buddy Miles a call. You remember Miles, don’t you? If you don’t, it’s fine, because he reestablishes his quirkiness with a single shot, as he sits in a swimsuit and bathes his huge-ass dog in a kiddie pool, and answers the phone with a headset he just happened to be wearing. He must get a lot of calls during Dog Washing Hours. 

After giving us one of the most intense voice cracks I’ve ever heard, Sam books it out of his house, hopping on a bike to escape his murderous Camaro. He’s not seen the thing commit any murders, mind you, but he seems pretty convinced that it would do the job, given half a chance. Also, this isn’t the bike he rode the night before; that one is likely being chewed on by those strong-ass junkyard dogs. No, for some reason, the Witwickys have a pastel pink girl’s bike, with the fun little handle tassels and the basket and everything. As far as I can tell, Sam is an only child, and if you think Bay’s going to allow for a teenage boy to have the vulnerability to own a pink bike, you’ve not been paying attention for the last 48.5 minutes.

The Camaro gives chase, rolling after Sam on his bike at a brisk 7 MPH down the friggin’ sidewalk, one of the only scenes in this travesty of a film to actually get me to crack a smile. Sam races through town until city planning puts a stop to him, through the magic of using chunks of cement to decorate the mulch around their trees. He crashes his bike, faceplants into the concrete in front of Mikaela, and promptly dies, thus ending the film.

No, he doesn’t die. I just told a fib. I’m sorry.

Instead, he does a flip and lands on his back, likely receiving a concussion, in front of Mikaela and her friends. Her friends laugh, because everyone hates Sam, as they should, and Mikaela says that what he just did was “really awesome.” Don’t try to be nice, Mikaela, this is Sam we’re talking about; you could stick the dude in the freezer overnight and he still wouldn’t be even remotely cool.

Sam gets back to the whole “running away from a car” deal, and Mikaela decides that this is the sort of thing she’d like to do with her day, so she ditches her friends in the middle of their scheduled Burger King™ time to go see what the hell Sam’s on about.

As Sam is chased by the Camaro who is being chased by Mikaela on her motorized scooter, a cop becomes involved, tearing through the streets to join this ridiculous game of tag. Now, we’ve seen two different flavor of cop so far- the mustachioed avatar cop car that picked up Frenzy from the airport, and the dude who threatened a teenage boy with a gun after accusing him of being under the influence of drugs. Either way, I don’t think this is going to turn out well for Sam.

Sam’s cornered himself under one of those really wide bridges where people can park their cars, which wasn’t terribly smart, but it’s Sam, so this is about par for the course. The Camaro manages to miss him, but the cop car does not. Sam is actually pretty cool with the cops being here, as if they could do anything about “Satan’s Camaro.” I guess he didn’t see the decal on the side of this car that says “to punish and enslave…”

Sam attempts to approach the car for help, and gets clotheslined by a car door for his troubles. He hits his head on the pavement, certainly exasperating the brain injury he received not ten minutes ago. Still, he continues to try to talk to the holographic avatar through the windshield, revealing that the bike he’s been riding is his mother’s. Mystery solved, I suppose.

The cop car doesn’t much appreciate being slapped on the hood, and begins to rev violently at Sam, threatening to run him over several times. Then it explodes into being a robot. Sam, who’s seen a lot of really weird shit in the last 24 hours, nopes out of the situation. It’s at this point that I realize he’s wearing a shirt for the band the Strokes. I don’t know why that stuck out to me, but it did. Guess my brain needed something to latch onto during all this.

Sam is running as fast as his little legs allow, as our newest robot friend takes up a leisurely jog to keep pace. Then he kicks Sam. He kicks Sam’s body like the football. This, of course, instantly turns Sam into a bag of jelly and kills him, thus ending the film.

No, he doesn’t die. I just told another fib. I’m sorry.

Sam somehow survives being punted by a giant metal leg and lands in the windshield of a car that doesn’t turn into a robot. Then he gets yelled at by the cop car. This is Barricade, a member of the Decepticons, and Sam’s got something he wants. Or, should I say “LadiesMan217” has something he wants.

LadiesMan217 is Sam’s Ebay username. This is both stupid because no teenage boy existing beyond the year 1985 would have ever called himself that, and also because it’s just stupid.

Barricade wants the glasses Sam presented for his genealogy report, and he wants them NOW. Seeing as the thing he wants is for sale, and nobody had been bidding on it, one would wonder why Barricade and his associates didn’t just try to purchase them like upstanding citizens. Perhaps Decepticons don’t understand the concept of money, or perhaps they don’t have a stable address to have the glasses shipped to. Or perhaps nobody considered that angle when the script was being put together. Who can say?

Sam gets back to running away from Barricade, we see where Mikaela got to, and the two of them collide. Sam rips Mikaela off of her scooter, and they both fall to the ground. Mikaela, who did not buckle the clasp on her helmet, asks Sam what his fucking problem is. Then his problem shows up, and they take a very long time to get up so they can run. So long, in fact, that the Camaro has to swing in to save them. After much pleading from Sam, Mikaela gets inside Satan’s Camaro, and the two of them are whisked away to safety. Barricade pursues, and then the butt rock starts.

There’s a lot of screaming and yelling, the Camaro busts through a window and several shelves in an abandoned building, there’s some drifting, and then suddenly it’s nighttime. Barricade somehow got in front of the Camaro, and is circling like a shark. The Camaro locks the two teenagers inside itself, though I suppose they could climb out through the still-open windows if they really wanted to. The Camaro cuts the engine off, then cuts it back on and bolts for the exit, and this somehow tricks Barricade long enough for them to get past.

The Camaro dumps Mikaela and Sam out one of the doors and then transforms into that yellow space robot we saw a bit ago. It’s Bumblebee! Nearly an hour in, and we finally get a proper look at the little bastard. I guess that’s what happens when you spend the first 20-something minutes on being xenophobic and appealing to the focus groups that think it’s fine sexualize high schoolers.

Bumblebee- no, he’s not introduced himself yet, but I just can’t keep calling him “the Camaro” anymore- comes out of his transformation ready to square the fuck up. Barricade throws himself at Bumblebee, they roll around on the ground for a bit, then things start sparking and exploding, because this is a Michael Bay film. Frenzy jumps out and starts chasing down Mikaela and Sam, while Bumblebee and Barricade murder death punch each other. Frenzy manages to grab Sam by the ankles, drag him to the ground, and rip his pants off. Not sure how that happened, considering he’s still got his shoes on.

While Sam’s busy being chased by a sentient pile of safety pins, Mikaela’s taken it upon herself to be proactive about her survival, and is raiding a nearby building for power tools. She sprints out holding an electric jig saw and saves Sam by decapitating Frenzy. If you know anything about Transformers, then you know this doesn’t actually kill Frenzy, but good on her for being a badass. Why couldn’t Mikaela be our main character again? Oh, right, because she’s a ~girl~.

Sam punts Frenzy’s head, like, 50 yards, which seems like something he shouldn’t be able to do, given that he’s a massive weenie, but there you are. With that out of the way, Sam takes Mikaela’s hand and they run off to go watch the giant robot fight. The bottom of Frenzy’s head turns into a spider and he crawls his way over to Mikaela’s purse. He’s gonna steal her gum, the fiend!

Mikaela and Sam have, unfortunately, missed the giant robot fight, which means that we, as the audience, have also missed the giant robot fight. Which is unbelievably stupid, seeing as everyone who has ever watched this movie came for the GIANT GODDAMN ROBOTS.

Mikaela asks just who the hell the yellow robot is, I guess because she’s finally had a second to process what the hell’s going on. Sam claims that he’s a super-advanced robot, “probably from Japan.” Whether or not this is a reference to the Japanese origins of the original toy line isn’t clear, though somehow I think it’s more xenophobia. Sam also makes the claim that if Bumblebee had intended to hurt them, he would have done it by now. This is quite the jump from a few hours ago, when he was calling the poor guy “Satan’s Camaro.”

Sam finally, finally asks Bumblebee what his deal is, and we get our first taste of the Bayverse Bumblebee Gimmick. The Gimmick here is that, due to an injury to his vocal processing, Bumblebee cannot communicate through traditional means, i.e. speech. Because of this, he instead strings together sentences by flicking through the radio frequencies and choosing key words. This can lead to some interesting audio design, like describing his fellow Autobots to “rain down like visitors form heaven, Hallelujah!” because a radio sermon fit what he was trying to say best.

This gimmick is one that has been used in other pieces of Transformers media, at least in part. Bumblebee is unable to speak traditionally in Transformers: Prime, and instead communicates in beeps and clicks that his teammates can understand, but not so much the humans, save for Raf. In Bumblebee (2018), the idea was used whole-cloth, with the injury resulting in his inability to speak happening on-camera within the first 10 minutes of the movie, and the idea of “expressing oneself through music” being introduced by his human companion Charlie Watson.

All in all, I rather like the idea going on here; it’s an interesting part of his character that opens up for a lot of interesting and creative moments.

It’s just too bad it was introduced in fucking Bayverse.

But yeah, anyway, the other Autobots are coming to Earth. Shit’s gonna be lit.

Bumblebee turns back into a Camaro, and Sam uses the power of FOMO to get Mikaela to go in the car with him. We get a shot of Barricade fucking dying on the side of the road. Frenzy murders Mikaela’s phone, and then steals its identity, including the little bejeweled heart stickers. Good thing Mikaela remembered to go get her purse, otherwise he probably would have felt very silly doing that.

Mikaela refuses to sit in the driver’s seat, seeing as she now knows Sam’s car is sentient, and sort of feels weird about this whole thing. Sam suggests that she sit in his lap instead, as the camera angles to give us a peek at the cup of Mikaela’s bra. When asked why the hell she should do such a thing, Sam says it’s a concern about her safety, given that the middle console of the car does not have a seatbelt. Sam either fails to recognize that seatbelts going over two layered bodies won’t save either of them in the event of a crash, or he’s just trying to make an excuse to have a pretty girl in his lap.

Given what movie this is, I’m going to guess it’s the latter.

Mikaela has a similar line of thought, but scoots over anyway, saying that the seatbelt line was a “smooth move”. It wasn’t, but if I picked apart every single bad line Sam had in this film, I’d be here all day.

Mikaela questions Bumblebee’s taste in alt-mode, which offends him to the point of dumping both her and Sam out in the street and driving away. He returns, moments later, as a sleek new Camaro, that I’m sure some car aficionados would call “sexy.”

Bumblebee’s alt-mode is a 2009 Chevrolet Camaro, of which there were none during the time of filming. It was put together for this movie in roughly five weeks. Sam is blown away by the fact that he now owns a car that does not currently exist in his universe. Mikaela is impressed, or at least she would be, if women were allowed to show that emotion in a non-horny way in a Bay film.

Judy doesn’t count.

As Bumblebee breaks into yet another restricted area, we get a shot of the Earth from orbit, as several objects rocket towards the planet. Sam and Mikaela watch the Autobots burn up in the atmosphere, and Mikaela tries to hold Sam’s hand as they do, and it’s at this point that I have to address how much I hate these two’s dynamic.

I don’t give a single solitary shit about this romance, because A) it’s poorly written, B) Mikaela could do infinitely better than Sam, C) I dislike Sam so very much, D) Mikaela, who is a way more interesting character, got placed on friggin’ love interest duty because ~girl~, and E) it’s useless padding to try and make me care about what’s happening here, and I just DON’T. I do NOT care about whether these two get together or not.

We see the Autobots crash-land, three out of four of them causing massive amounts of property damage and possibly killing at least one person. Their stasis pods crack open, and they each climb out, completely naked and in desperate need of clothing to hide their shame. With a quick scan of nearby vehicles, they’re once again decent to be seen in public.

Bumblebee drives the kids out to what I can only assume is the warehouse district he sent that beacon out in, as our collection of good guys finally come together at long last. A massive Peterbilt semi-truck stops directly in front of Mikaela and Sam.

We’re over an hour into this film, and we’re just now getting to the quintessential Transformer, Optimus Prime himself.

In the original cartoon, Optimus’s alt-mode was what’s known as a cabover truck, one where the cab- where the driver sits- is seated directly over the engine. These were popular during the days when maximum truck-lengths were much shorter than they are currently. This is why when you look at height charts for Optimus over various continuities, his G1 cartoon counterpart much shorter than his other iterations.

Modern trucks are longer, and don’t need the cab to sit on top of the engine to save on space. The designers chose to use a Peterbilt to make sure that Optimus would have an imposing stature when compared to his fellow Autobots.

Because heaven forbid we not have heightism come into play in this film.

Our Autobots transform, and say what you will about these bastards being visually incomprehensible, the transformations themselves are cool as hell. My personal favorite is Jazz’s, where he does a cool windmill into his root mode.

Optimus crouches like he’s looking at a cool bug on the sidewalk and addresses Sam by name. He doesn’t even acknowledge Mikaela, which I find to be a bit rude, but whatever. He then introduces himself as the leader of the Autobots.

Peter Cullen is back as the voice for Optimus Prime, sounding wonderful as always. He almost wasn’t brought on for this project, because Michael Bay didn’t want him. If the fans hadn’t thrown a hissyfit, who knows who we would have gotten to be our space dad for the next hour and a half?

This is actually an issue that’s recurred several times in the last few years, and not just with Cullen; Frank Welker, the voice of Megatron, as well as many other Transformers, has been refused roles within Transformers properties. In general, this is because both Cullen and Welker are union actors, and Hasbro would prefer to hire sound-alikes than pay more money for the originals. This isn’t to shame the non-union actors, goodness no, just to merely point out less-than-fantastic business practices.

I realize there have been a lot of tangents, but you have to understand that I am suffering as I do this.

Optimus then introduces his team- there’s Jazz, whose first line is “What’s crackin’ little bitches?”, Ironhide, who incorrectly quotes Dirty Harry, and Ratchet, who calls out just how obnoxiously horny Sam’s character is. We also finally get Bumblebee’s name.

Mikaela asks the very good question of why the fuck the Autobots are here on Earth. Optimus explains that the AllSpark is here, and they’ve got to get to it before Megatron does. He then goes on to explain who Megatron is, stating that he “betrayed” the Cybertronian empire.

No, how exactly he did that isn’t addressed. We’ll just have to take Optimus’s word, I suppose.

If you’ve sussed out by this point the the AllSpark and the Cube™ are the same thing, congrats! You win. Megatron followed the AllSpark to Earth, where he promptly was neutralized by the cold of the Arctic circle. This was 110 years prior to the events of this film, and where Archibald Witwicky came in to the story.

When the expedition was happening, Archibald fell through the ice during a collapse, and ended up finding Megatron’s frozen body in an ice cave. He went poking around on this strange metal giant, and ended up activating Megatron’s navigation systems, which imprinted the coordinates of the AllSpark onto Archibald’s glasses.

Don’t ask how that works, it just does.

So, the Autobots need the glasses, so they can find the AllSpark before the Decepticons do, so those guys don’t use it to build an army out of Earth’s machines, which will destroy humanity.

Sounds simple enough, let’s go get that vision correction device!

Back with the military dudes, everyone’s taking a gander at the tail that Scorponok left behind. They theorize that the metal that makes up these giant murder-robots reacts to extreme heat, but elaboration on that point will have to wait, because the tail has begun to flail. They quickly strap it down, then call the military to let them know to strap anti-tank guns onto anything that’s going to be approaching any giant robots.

Meanwhile, in an interrogation room, Maddie and Glen have been left to sweat a bit. Glen takes to stress-eating, while framing it as a psychological tactic to subconsciously prove his innocence to the FBI.

This is a fat joke, with the added nasty layer of Glen being a black man about to be interrogated by one of the most intimidating white cops I’ve seen in a hot minute.

Glen immediately folds, pinning all the blame on Maddie, and claiming that he’s been a perfect angel his whole life. We get some weird purity culture out of him, before Maddie lets the FBI know that she needs to talk to the Secretary of Defense, NOW.

Over at the Witwicky household, Sam’s parents are watching the news, trying to find out what all those loud crashes were about. Optimus Prime drives down their residential street, the rest of the gang in tow, then they all park to wait for Sam to go get the glasses.

For about 20 seconds.

Sam has to physically hold the door shut to prevent his father from coming out and seeing several very tall robots from outer space tip-toeing around his freshly-landscaped yard, I guess because they got antsy. Optimus plods around on the grass and breaks a fountain, and our benevolent god Mojo comes out of the house, assuredly to smite the leader of the Autobots.

Mikaela runs onto the scene, and Sam chastises her for not controlling the robots who didn’t even acknowledge her existence, outside of pointing out Sam was sexually attracted to her.

Mojo pees on Ironhide’s foot, which prompts Ironhide to threaten to shoot the creature. This is why Ironhide isn’t getting into heaven. Sam, one of Mojo’s chosen few, claims that the mortal shell of his god is seen as a beloved pet by many humans. Sam runs into the house, before Mojo can incur his divine wrath on the Autobots.

While Sam goes to get the glasses, the Autobots decide to do a little peeping on the house, watching his parents watch TV. Sam tears his room apart trying to find the glasses, and Optimus thinks that it would be helpful if he brought Mikaela up to help look. It’s at this point that I realize that Sam has an utterly bizarre fish tank.

I mean, legitimately, what the fuck is this? No filter, no plants, might not even have any rocks on the bottom. Is this a comically oversized bong Sam threw a couple fish into? What the fuck.

Mikaela starts looking for the glasses, running into what is likely a box of porn mags, then they both look out the window to find that the Autobots have decided to hide in plain sight by transforming... in the middle of Sam’s backyard. Amazing work, gentlemen.

Sam finally convinces the Autobots to go sit in the alley and wait, only for Ratchet to run into a power line and trip into a greenhouse. The resulting impact is interpreted as an earthquake. Judy does not have the reaction one might expect from someone who’s lived in California for at least ten years.

Ratchet’s fine, by the way.

The power cuts out, and Ron goes up to check on his son, because he’s at least a halfway-decent father. Ratchet’s shining a light to aid in the search for the glasses. Sam’s parents notice this bright light, and bang on Sam’s door to see what’s up.

Sam quickly hides Mikaela and then attempts to salvage the situation, answering the door and trying to control the narrative. Unfortunately, Ron is far too inquisitive for Sam to do this, and then Judy asks if Sam was masturbating.

Judy, is privacy just not a thing to you? Because if not, it really ought to be.

She keeps going with it too, trying to come up with code words, until another one of the Autobots trips and causes Ron to panic again, climbing into Sam’s ancient claw-foot bathtub to protect himself. He looks out the window to check on his beloved yard, lamenting that the earthquake tore it up.

Ironhide is strongly considering killing Sam’s parents. Optimus tells him that they don’t harm humans, and also begins to wonder if he made a mistake bringing this guy along.

Back in Sam’s room, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that Sam is an absolutely terrible liar, and Mikaela reveals herself, if only to prevent Judy from trying to talk about self-pleasure again. Of course, now she gets to be subjected to both of Sam’s parents objectifying her, so this might be a lose-lose situation.

Sam is reminded that his backpack is in the kitchen, just in time for the government to show up at his house. Mikaela makes a comment about Judy being nice. I suppose on a surface level, yes, being told that you’re gorgeous by someone’s mom is nice. I do have to question the context that compliment took place in, however.

Sam’s about to hand the glasses over to the Autobots, when someone rings the doorbell. It’s Sector Seven, and they’re here to talk to Sam about his stolen car being part of an issue involving national security. Ron and Judy are more concerned about their yard being torn up, Judy yelling that they “need to get their hands off [her] bush.”

We still have another hour of this movie.

The agent leading this mission asks Sam to come with him for questioning, which his parents are very much against. Mojo also voices his displeasure, but it would seem that Agent Simmons is not a follower of the Tenets of Mojo. Sam gets geigered, and his readings are high enough for Sector Seven to take him and everyone in this house into custody.

As Sam and Mikaela are riding in the back of the car, Simmons brings up Sam’s Ebay account, and also the phone video he took of Bumblebee earlier in the week. Mikaela is rather unimpressed with Sam at the moment, probably because he’s gotten her arrested. She still tries to help him out though, because she really is just the nicest fucking person on the planet.

Alas, the combined efforts of these two teenagers isn’t enough to fool the long arm of the law, especially when it’s a branch of said law that deals with extraterrestrial activity. Simmons threatens to lock up these literal children for life if they don’t start talking. Mikaela isn’t taking the bait, so he goes after her father’s parole hearing instead.

Yep! As it turns out, Mikaela and her father stole cars to get by, and she’s got the record to back that claim up. Simmons calls her a criminal, then says that criminals are hot. Mikaela looks like she’s about to cry, and I don’t blame her in the slightest.

Optimus, I suppose because his dad senses were tingling, takes the opportunity to place his leg in the road for the car to run into, then grabs said car like an unruly cat and lifts it until the roof rips off due to stress. The agents in the other cars pile out and point their guns at the giant space robot. The rest of the Autobots quickly relieve them of their weapons.

Optimus notes that Simmons doesn’t seem surprised that a bunch of giant robots just took all his guys’ guns, and demands that he exit the vehicle, posthaste. Simmons obliges, after a bit more prodding. Mikaela undoes Sam’s handcuffs, and he gets fucking pissy about it, as if this girl he’s had a grand total of three (awkward) conversations with should have told him something as personal as “hey, so my dad’s in jail and I’ve been to juvenile detention.”

Luckily, she doesn’t let him get away with it, calling him out as the spoiled, self-centered, privileged little shithead that he is.

Of course, we don’t get any sort of real acknowledgement from Sam, having to move on with the plot. Perhaps, if we hadn’t spent the last hour and 20 minutes faffing about on drivel, we could have had Sam get an actual moment of self-reflection, and potentially even character growth. However, this is Bayverse, and everyone knows that personal accountability is for fucking sissies.

Mikaela and Sam ask several questions, but get no answers from Agent Simmons. And then Bumblebee pees on him.

I hate that I had to write that. I hate it very much.

Anyway, I don’t know why that had to happen, but it did, and I’m nothing if not thorough.

Optimus tells Bumblebee to cut it out, and with that the Sector Seven agents are cuffs and left on the side of the road. Mikaela orders Simmons to strip, as punishment for threatening her father, then cuffs him to a street lamp.

...Yes, that does sound like a bizarre sexual fantasy, doesn’t it?

Unfortunately for our teen heroes, they forgot to confiscate everyone’s phones, and Sector Seven knows what’s up, thanks to the power of speakerphone. More cars and a couple of helicopters show up basically immediately, and the Autobots decide it’s time to dip.

But not before Ironhide fires off a pulsewave into the ground that causes a five-car pileup.

Optimus, I suppose because he knows he chose a ridiculously flashy alt-mode that is in no way practical, just picks the kids up in and places them on his shoulder like a couple of parakeets, then takes up a leisurely jog to get away from the eyes in the sky. He runs through the city, racking up what is likely millions in property damage, as the helicopters pursue. He passes by a “Legalize LA” billboard, which feels odd to see, given what movie this is.

The ‘copters somehow manage to lose Optimus, despite him being relatively slow, and having a notable radiation level that they’ve been using to track him. He hides inside the scaffolding of a bridge, only for Mikaela and Sam to slip off of his polished body to their deaths, thus ending the film.

No, they don’t die. I just told another fib. I’m sorry.

Bumblebee snatches them up just before they hit the ground, the impact of his metal body catching them at 75 mph, killing them instantly and ending the film.

Nope, that doesn’t happen either.

Mikaela and Sam are fine, some-fucking-how, but Sam’s dropped the MacGuffin glasses. The helicopters swing back around, having noticed the sound of a car crashing into the ground and the screams of two whole adolescents. They break out a fucking harpoon gun and fire on our kid appeal character.

Repeatedly.

They wrap up Bumblebee in a series of cables, as he screams like a moose. Mikaela and Sam are held at gunpoint by what is honestly far too many dudes, and are then arrested for the second time in ten minutes. Bumblebee is smoked... because he’s a bee? Sam, not liking this one bit, finds the strength in his weenie body to push a cop off of himself, run at one of the dudes with the smoke guns, throw him to the ground, and then start smoking him. He’s immediately tackled, but points for trying.

Sam and Mikaela are placed back into custody, and the rest of the Autobots regroup with Optimus to see what the plan is. Optimus says that they can’t save Bumblebee without hurting humans, so I guess Bumblebee is just a POW now. Well, at least they got the glasses. That’s cool.

Back at the Pentagon, things are getting dicey, as the other world powers are starting to suspect that something’s up. The Secretary of Defense is approached by a man with a mustache and a briefcase. He’s from Sector Seven, but the Secretary gives not a fuck about mysterious organizations. All the computers in the room suddenly go down, the virus from earlier working its magic- only this time, the blackout is global.

Mr. Mustache opens his briefcase, while explaining that Sector Seven is something known as a “special access” sector of the government, which is why nobody’s ever heard of it; it’s beyond top secret. Commissioned by President Herbert Hoover 80 years prior, it deals with alien life.

When the Beagle 2 spacecraft was lost on the way to Mars in 2003, the mission was declared a failure. This was a lie. The Beagle 2 recorded several seconds of Mars before being crushed to death by a Transformer. This tidbit is pretty funny, given that the Beagle 2 was rediscovered on Mars in 2014, seven years after this film released. Not a terribly mysterious death anymore, is it?

Comparing the footage from Mars to the footage from Qatar has Sector Seven thinking that these are the same species. Which they are. God, it’d be so fucked up if there were two species of giant robots in this film.

Mr. Mustache theorizes that because the Transformers now know that they can be harmed by human weaponry, they’re being proactive about their safety and shutting down all forms of communication technology with that virus that keeps popping up. It’s only a matter of time before the shit hits the fan for humanity.

Mr. Secretary tells his guys to try going analog with comms, breaking out the short-wave radios, to tell their ships to return home.

Over at an Air Force base, Lennox and the gang have landed, only to be scooped up by a bunch of dudes in suits.

Back with Maddie and Glen, the two of them have fallen asleep in the interrogation room, Maddie still wearing her friggin’ four inch pumps as her legs are propped up on the table, crossed in a way that seems rather uncomfortable. Glen gets to sleep like a normal human being, with his head resting on his forearms. Why this place doesn’t have a holding cell for these situations is beyond me.

Mr. Secretary comes in to bring Maddie on as his advisor. Glen can come too, I guess, considering he’s the one who actually figured out the sound file virus.

We get a little military glorification, and then it’s revealed that Mikaela and Sam, as well as Maddie and Glen, are aboard this helicopter. Their paths cross at last. Our heroes are transported to the Hoover Dam, where Bumblebee is also. They are still smoking him.

Meanwhile, the Autobots are figuring out where to go, with the power of Archibald’s glasses. Ratchet, who I guess is omnipotent, senses that the Decepticons have also figured out the location, and that this is going to be a race against the clock. And I mean, he’s right, but the phrasing is a bit odd.

Jazz wants to know when they’re going to save Bumblebee. Optimus says that they aren’t, and that Bumblebee’s sacrifice is noble, and that he would want the Autobots to leave him and complete the mission. As this is said, we get another shot of Bumblebee getting smoked and trapped in a lab. Yep, this is totally what he would want. He absolutely signed up for this, giving himself up to the government and not at all fighting like mad to not be captured.

I don’t think Bayverse Optimus actually knows what martyrdom is, which is bizarre, given that it’s a major trait in a lot of other iterations of the character.

Ironhide isn’t even sure why they’re bothering to save humanity, given that humans are violent and awful, his point being hammered home as Bumblebee is tortured for scientific reasons. Ironhide seems to have forgotten that Cybertron has been at war for literally millions of years. Optimus has faith in humanity, however, stating that we’re “young”.

And then he says that he’s going to end his own race, by destroying the Cube™, which is how they reproduce, because that’s the only way to end the war.

Which is arguably one of the most hardcore fictional applications of eugenics ever conceived.

Being advocated for by Optimus Goddamn Prime.

We still have another 50 minutes of this movie.

Optimus then proves that he does, in fact, know what self-sacrifice is, stating that, if all else fails, he’ll shove the AllSpark into his spark, which will destroy them both. He’s pretty chill about it, too.

Up on top of the Hoover Dam, Frenzy has fallen out of Mikaela’s bag.

Mr. Secretary is also at the Hoover Dam now, as is Lennox’s team. Oh, and Agent Simmons, who is thankfully wearing pants. He offers to buy Sam a coffee, as repartitions for threatening his family, arresting him, and being a complete creep to a teenage girl. Sam gives not a fuck about caramel macchiatos with extra foam and chocolate drizzle, however. He only cares about his car.

Mr. Mustache, who is also here, needs Sam to spill the beans on all these friggin’ giant robots that are running around. This is where Sam realizes he has the upper hand for once, and he starts making demands. One such demand is having Mikaela’s record scrubbed clean, which is an actually very nice thing for him to have done for her. We’ll see if his intent comes to fruition. For now, it’s time to talk about Bumblebee.

We get a shot of all these folks heading into the secret base hidden inside the Hoover Dam, and it’s at this point that I notice that Maddie’s shirt is basically see-through.

Inside the Dam, we see that Sector Seven′s been keeping Megatron this entire time, keeping him neutralized with cryo-stasis since 1935. Cryopreservation was invented in the 50′s. This isn’t a nitpick, I just thought it was a neat little fact.

Megatron being on Earth has resulted in most modern technology. This sort of plot point always bothers me, because it takes away agency from the entire human race. We didn’t use our own ingenuity and work ethic to advance society, we plagiarized from a more advanced species. I dunno, it just rubs me the wrong way.

We get the part of the movie where info is hashed out, so that everyone is on the same page, Sam spouting off Autobot propaganda. We can forgive him for this,considering he’s 16, and no one is immune to propaganda, especially when they have zero way of doing their own research to form their own opinion with.

Sector Seven also has the AllSpark, kept in the room next to Megatron’s, like the chumps they will soon find themselves to be. It’s about ten stories tall and the reason the Hoover Dam exists. With so much concrete suppressing its alien energies, surely no one will ever find it!

Except for Frenzy, who came in through a mouse hole. Whoopsie-doodle!

The AllSpark zaps the nasty little man, restoring his body with its weird MacGuffin powers. Frenzy tells all his coworkers that he found what they were looking for, and everyone starts heading over.

Maddie asks Mr. Mustache what exactly he means by “energies”, perhaps worried that this whole thing has been some elaborate ploy to get her to invest in magic healing stones. Mr. Mustache brings everyone into a testing chamber, since the best way to explain how the AllSpark works is through a demonstration.

There’s a big fish tank in the middle of this testing chamber, in which Agent Simmons places a donated device from the crowd- Glen’s Nokia phone, specifically. Simmons makes a geologically-confused comment. When this is pointed out by Maddie, Mr. Secretary hushes her, simply saying that Simmons is a strange man. The tank is locked down, and then the show starts.

Cube™ energies are shot into the tank, and the phone explodes into life, transforming into a gorilla-shaped gremlin creature. Happy birthday, little dude!

Little dude starts shooting at the tank walls, cracking the glass until Simmons pulls the trigger and ends it. Happy deathday, little dude!

The Decepticons are making tracks towards the Hoover Dam, but Starscream- yeah, he’s in this now, don’t worry about it- arrives first, because he is a very fast jet. He transforms, showing off his ridiculous Dorito body, and fires on the base’s generators. The resulting explosions can be heard all the way down in the testing chamber, and Mr. Mustache calls upstairs to see what’s up. Looks like Megatron may be getting warmed up, seeing as his ice bath has been cut off. Lennox asks if there’s an arms room in Sector Seven, which sort of feels like asking a bakery if they have any flour.

Frenzy has entered the room that houses the controls for the cryo-stasis and set that whole system to “no, thank you”.

Mr. Mustache runs through the base, screaming for everyone to get to the Megatron chamber. Off in the distance, the Autobots approach. Could probably used some fliers on your team, huh Optimus?

Back with Frenzy, he’s decided to just straight-up raise Megatron’s core temperature directly. Hope he doesn’t do it too fast; rewarming hypothermia victims recklessly can do some serious damage.

Outside of the base, Lennox and the boys are loading up with weaponry, along with what’s the entirety of Sector Seven′s cannon-fodder department. Oh, and all the main cast. Yep, just got a couple of teenagers chillin’ in the munitions room.

Sam wants Simmons to take him to his car- he hasn’t used Bumblebee’s name in a hot minute, not sure what’s up with that- even though Simmons is currently busy loading a very large gun. Simmons doesn’t want to do that, because he’s got no idea if what Sam mentioned earlier is even true, and he doesn’t want to pin the fate of humanity on a single Camaro. Lennox takes this opportunity to tackle Simmons, despite likely not knowing that Bumblebee is one of the “good guys”. A Sector Seven guy very much doesn’t like that, and points a gun at Lennox, which prompts all of his guys to also start threatening folks with guns.

Mr. Mustache walks in on the scene, but doesn’t do anything, since he isn’t armed and knows better than to tangle with someone who’s packing. Simmons tries to intimidate Lennox, because he must have missed the day of boot camp where they tell you that guns kill people. Lennox is fully committed to shooting this dude in the lungs before Mr. Secretary suggests he give the people what they want, before things get ugly.

Simmons takes everyone to the robot torture department of Sector Seven, where they are still smoking Bumblebee. Geez, you’d think they’d have something in place for if they ever came across another giant robot after Megatron, but I guess not. The gang gets everyone to stop smoking Bumblebee, which allows him to stop moose-screaming and strongly consider murdering everyone involved with his forced captivity. Unfortunately, revenge with have to wait, as we’ve still got to deal with the AllSpark, and the fact that the Decepticons are here.

They take Bumblebee to the AllSpark, where he makes direct contact the thing, causing the AllSpark to transform, compacting itself down into a far more reasonable size that Bumblebee can carry in one hand. It doesn’t seem to weigh more than a grown adult, if his body language is saying anything. I’d make a joke about the conservation of mass being ignored, but since this is Transformers, I can’t really say much. Conservation of mass doesn’t exist for this franchise.

Bumblebee would really like to get this show on the road, and Lennox agrees, quickly formulating a plan to get away from Megatron and taking the AllSpark to Mission City, which is relatively close to their current location, so that they can hide it there.

Lennox, I know this plan is a first draft, and we don’t have a ton of time for revisions, but the whole point of building a whole-ass dam around the Cube™ was because it was very difficult to hide, given its magical MacGuffin powers. Regardless of this flaw, Mr. Secretary agrees. Lennox also asks that the Air Force be involved in this, I guess because the U.S. military wanted more screentime.

Of course, that whole “global blackout” thing is still going on, so we’re going to have to get creative with how we’re going to contact the Air Force. Mr. Secretary and Simmons make a break for the WWII-era radio Sector Seven has, while Lennox and the boys head out to shoot things, and Mikaela and Sam hop into Bumblebee with the Cube™.

This is about the point that Megatron wakes up. The first thing he does is introduce himself, which I thought was very polite of him. Then he breaks out his flail and starts bashing shit around. Not so polite, that.

Over with Bumblebee, we’re shown that the AllSpark, all-powerful object that can create life and is the whole reason this conflict is even happening, is just chillin’ in the back seat by itself. It’s not even buckled up.

Megatron escapes the base, and it’s actually super easy. He just transforms, goes through the tunnel, and he’s free. I feel like we could have at least attempted some security measures for in case the cryo-stasis failed, given that we’ve had this dude in containment for the last 70-something years, but okay.

Starscream comes over to say hi to his boss, not that Megatron gives a shit. He just wants to know where that fucking Cube™ is. When Starscream tells him that the humans have it, Megatron makes a comment about how Starscream has failed him yet again. This is their first interaction in this movie, and Starscream’s been in the story for a grand total of five minutes at this point. I know that this is a reference to their dynamic in just about every installment of the franchise up to this point, but it doesn’t feel earned in the slightest. Even if it’s going to be expanded upon in future sequels, this is a shit-tier way to set their (awful) relationship up.

Not that anyone should ever bank on getting a sequel anyway, but that’s a discussion for another time.

Megatron tells Starscream to retrieve the AllSpark, and then we cut over to the radio plotline. The radio, which is so cobweb-covered I feel like Sector Seven needs to have a serious discussion with their custodial staff, has its nobs and buttons fiddled with by Simmons until it crackles to life. But where are the microphones? Everyone starts looking for the mics, as Simmons pushes Glen into the seat, I guess because hacking modern computers and using Depression-era radio tech are similar enough.

Maddie asks Glen if he can hotwire a 90′s-era computer to transmit a tone through the radio, so that they can send a Morse code message to the Air Force. Which sounds ridiculous to me, but I don’t know enough about radios or computers to know if that sort of thing would be possible. Maybe it’s fine. Or maybe it’s Hollywood bullshit. Who knows?

Back over with Bumblebee, we get a bunch of car commercial shots, of both him and the other Autobots. Aww, the gang’s back together again! Nobody tell Bumblebee that Optimus was completely cool with leaving him to his fate.

Optimus and the gang whip around to join the convoy, and everyone makes their way towards Mission City.

Back at the radio subplot, someone’s bangin’ on the door, trying to get in. The others try to block the intruder, while Glen does his hacking stuff. Mr. Secretary breaks a case and pulls out a gun that’s about as old as he is.

Glen gets the computer working, and Mr. Secretary gives him the Super Secret Military Codewords™ to use to talk to the Air Force. While he does that, Simmons finds a flamethrower and starts burning Frenzy as he attempts to enter the room. The Air Force receives the message for an air strike. Oh, goody.

Over with the convoy, it appears that the Autobots and Lennox’s boys are being pursued by the Decepticons. It’s difficult to tell, seeing as the cameras have gone full Bay-mode, but I’m guessing that’s what’s up. One of the Decepticons flips over a minivan, likely killing a family of five. another causes a multi-car pileup.

Bonecrusher transforms, then Optimus transforms. Bonecrusher iceskates across the highway, slamming into a bus so hard it just straight-up explodes. He is on fire. He tackles Optimus, and they proceed to fall off the side of the raised highway they’re on. Then they beat the shit out of each other, until Optimus decapitates Bonecrusher with his arm-sword.

Yeah, space dad is a little intense in the Bayverse.

Back at Sector Seven, Frenzy’s decided to leave the door alone, and instead is crawling through the ventilation shaft. Mr. Secretary and Simmons fire off shots into the duct above them, as if bullets would do anything against this nasty little pile of needles.

Frenzy bursts through the bottom of the duct and crash-lands into a glass case, taking cover behind a pillar and fires on the humans on the other side of the room. While this shootout is happening, Glen receives a response from the Air Force, just in time for Frenzy to accidentally decapitate himself with one of his own spinning blades of death. This time, he does not survive losing his head.

The Air Force will be sending fighter planes to Mission City, and to establish this, we get several shots of what some might call “military porn.”

Over in the city, the convoy has arrived. Lennox hands several short-wave radios over to Epps, telling him to use them to direct the Air Force when they arrive, so they can take the AllSpark... somewhere, I guess. Above, an F-22 zooms across the sky. It is not one of the Air Force’s F-22s.

Ironhide recognizes Starscream, and gets ready to throw down. Bumblebee grabs a nearby Furby truck and hoists it up to use as a shield. This marginally works, as the missile that hits the truck doesn’t immediately kill him, though it probably did all those Furbies inside.

The resulting explosion throws all the humans around, Mikaela getting weird heaven lighting as she lies unconscious on the pavement. Sam gets it too, though, so I suppose I can’t complain too much about this particular shot. They touch hands. I really wish that I could take this moment of vulnerability as being anything other than an attempt to set up a romance between these two teens who have known each other for maybe half a week. This movie has so starved me of genuine human interaction I'm jumping at the smallest of scraps.

Bumblebee actually didn’t get out of that missile-strike unscathed, his legs having been blown off. All those Furbies died for nothing. Tragic. Sam asks Bumblebee if he’s alright, and immediately tells him to get up. Sam then remembers that Bumblebee’s legs are off, so he yells for Ratchet.

Over with Lennox and Epps, they’ve realized that the plane they saw wasn’t one of theirs. Which, you know, has already been established, but points for getting caught up, fellas. Sam is crying and still telling Bumblebee to get up. Bumblebee is dragging himself across the pavement and whimpering. It’s awful. Where the fuck is Ratchet? This is basically the only reason he’s in this film, and he’s nowhere to be found.

The actual Air Force calls on the radio, asking for their location. Brawl, who is a tank, starts firing on Lennox’s gang. Jazz and Ratchet race through the city streets. How they were separated from the rest of the team is anyone’s guess.

Sam takes a little sit on the pavement to be with Bumblebee, while Mikaela decides to problem-solve and heads for a nearby tow truck. Bumblebee hands Sam the Cube™ because, as the designated protagonist, it’s his job to handle it in the climax of the film.

Ironhide is shot at several times by Brawl, narrowly avoiding being hit each time. This, of course, means that the people he drives by in this shot are almost assuredly dead, since they’re right next to the explosions. He transforms and does a flip, as the film goes slow-mo on a shot of a woman in a low-cut dress watching him flip. She screams. Ironhide screams. I scream, though probably for a different reason.

Jazz jumps on Brawl, managing to kick off a couple pieces of kibble before Brawl grabs him and throws him into the side of a building. Ironhide, Optimus, and Ratchet descend on Brawl, and so does Lennox’s team, Brawl losing a hand and getting thrown into his own building as a result.

Mikaela breaks into the tow truck and starts to hotwire that shit. Wow, a relevant back story that culminates in her being able to save the day, thus completing her arc and staying on-theme for her character. Why isn’t Mikaela the protagonist again?

Oh, right, because ~girl~.

Megatron lands in a nearby alleyway, and Ratchet, knowing this dude is bad news, tells everyone to head for the hills. Jazz isn’t fast enough, however, and gets shot for his troubles.

Mikaela drives the truck over to Sam, who is still sitting there with the Cube™, and tells him to get his ass in gear.

Jazz gets taken to the top of a nearby building and is ripped in two by Megatron, who acts like a bird of prey the whole sequence. Down on the ground, Brawl is starting to get back up from his smackdown. Blackout appears on a nearby skyscraper. Things are looking grim for humanity.

Mikaela and Sam hook Bumblebee up to the tow line as Lennox approaches them. Sam has left the AllSpark out of his line of sight, like a fool. Despite seeing this, Lennox still gives him the flare to let the military know where to pick up the AllSpark. Doesn’t even acknowledge Mikaela. He tells Sam to head for the white building with statues on top of it and set the flare on top of the roof. Lennox can’t leave his men, because he’s the head of his operation. Why he can’t send literally anyone else who isn’t a 16 year-old boy isn’t made clear.

Sam really doesn’t want to do this, probably because he’s a child, but Lennox has recruited him to the military against his will, so he must. Lennox then attempts to make Mikaela leave for her own good, but she tells him to fuck off, because she’s gonna save Bumblebee. Clearly, this is a win for feminism.

Epps radios the choppers coming from the Air Force to let them know they’ll be picking up a package from a teenager, thus locking Sam into the job. Ironhide and Ratchet vow to protect Sam from the Decepticons on his way to the pickup point. Not one single person has pointed out how fucked up this is.

Sam starts to run off, when Mikaela stops him to let him know that she’s glad she got in the car with him roughly an hour ago. They don’t kiss goodbye, which, honestly? Good. This fucking movie hasn’t earned that. Sam for sure hasn’t earned that, even if he did clear her juvie record. No word on that having actually been done, by the way. Sam never got confirmation, and I feel like he’s not really the type to follow up on things.

Brawl fires off some shots and makes things explode. Ratchet and Ironhide provide cover fire as Sam sprints down the road. Yep, they’re making this idiot WALK to the pickup point. Sure hope the elevators are working today, otherwise this is going to take forever.

Sam carries the AllSpark like a football, and in a better movie, this would have been foreshadowed by Sam having actually been a football player prior to the events of the film, perhaps removed from the team for some character flaw he’s since grown from/accepted. However, this is Bayverse, and well, men don’t have to justify their existence in the story with things like themes and having even an ounce of thought put into their character.

Back with Mikaela, Lennox has refused to learn her name, calling her “girl” as he screams at her to get Bumblebee hooked up to the tow truck. Which she was already doing when he got here. Lennox, dude, you’ve got a daughter now, you’re super extra not allowed to treat women like this.

Optimus Prime pulls through an alleyway and crashes into a pile of garbage. I can forgive him being late, seeing as he is a big rig, and probably had to take the long way into town so he didn’t get stuck in too-low tunnels. Don’t worry about how we briefly saw him during the Brawl take-down. This is his for real entrance into the climax.

He whips around and transforms, ready to throw the fuck down. Megatron spots him from his perch and descends.

Y’know.

Like a vast, predatory bird.

Megatron shoots at Optimus in his alt-mode, and Optimus catches him like a frisbee. Unfortunately for Optimus, it would appear that the horsepower on a Cybertronian flightcraft is hella intense, and he’s carried away. The two of them crash through an office building, then roll around in the streets punching each other in the face, debating the worth of humanity as they do so. Wish I actually gave a shit about either of these people, but alas! The film spent most of its runtime objectifying women and insulting minorities. I know nothing about Optimus, and even less about Megatron.

Megatron transforms his arms into a laser gun, and Optimus does the same. They shoot at each other. Optimus gets thrown into a building, then lands on the sidewalk below, definitely crushing a dude underneath him, but I guess we didn’t check that the shot was clear for where the CGI was gonna go, so he’s fine.

Sam’s still running through the streets, while Blackout murders, like, so many people behind him. Starscream lands in front of Sam, running into roughly 30 cars as he skids to a halt. Ratchet and Ironhide fire on him, as Sam takes a breather behind a car. Starscream transforms and blasts off. He was here for about 15 seconds. Sam begins running again.

Megatron is now following Sam, because he wants that Cube™. Sam is hit by a car- not an evil one, just a regular car- and trips. The impact makes the AllSpark activate, which grants several machines in the vicinity the gift of life, including the car full of bitchy women that just hit Sam, who are upset that hitting a human being might have scratched the paint.

I get it, you hate women, can we PLEASE stop beating this dead horse?

Sam finally gets to the pickup building, which turns out to be abandoned and fenced off. Good thing the gate was open, otherwise things could get really complicated. He heads inside, Megatron crashing through a floor-to-ceiling window shortly behind him. Megatron makes the claim that he can smell where Sam is. I’m going to choose to believe that he isn’t lying here, since Ratchet did something similar earlier.

Sam finds the stairs, and Megatron calls him a slur.

He doesn’t, really, but the voice modulation certainly makes it sound that way.

While this is happening, Mikaela is driving the tow truck down an alley, dragging Bumblebee behind her with the tow cable. She stops for a moment to have a short breakdown, seeing as she is a teenager in what is currently a warzone.

Sam is still running up the stairs. Outside, the military shoots at one of the Decepticons. It is, of course, doing absolutely nothing to the giant metal space robot. Mikaela concludes her moment, looking back at Bumblebee, who gives her the okay to keep going with dragging his ass across the pavement. She whips the truck around and tells Bumblebee “I’ll drive, you shoot.”

Mikaela then proceeds to speed down a main road of this sizable city backwards, running into cars and more or less shoving Bumblebee along to his destination.

The military has finally realized that their efforts have been pointless, but it’s okay because Bumblebee is here with his superior firepower. Bumblebee proceeds to shoot Brawl in the chest, which kills him. After this, he tries to act cute, lifting up his battle mask in a very “did I do that?” way, as if he’s not the same guy who ripped Barricade apart earlier.

Sam, meanwhile, has finally reached the top of this dilapidated building. Helicopters are approaching his location, but will they make it to him before Megatron does? Honestly, I’d be more worried about Starscream on the building just due East.

Sam is just about to hand the AllSpark over, when Starscream fires at the ‘copter, causing it to crash and nearly chop Sam to pieces. Optimus Prime runs towards the scene, on a roof that I refuse to believe could actually support him. Megatron punches thought the roof from the bottom and asks Sam some philosophical questions. Sam can’t answer, given that he’s hiding on the edge of this building, his flimsy grip on one of the angel statues being the only thing keeping him from falling.

Megatron tells him to give him the AllSpark, and in exchange he might not kill him immediately. Sam tells him to fuck off, and Megatron flails the chunk of building he was hanging on to, causing Sam to fall to his death, thus ending the film.

I’m lying to you. Michael Bay is making me into a liar.

No, Sam is, instead, caught by Optimus, very likely breaking several ribs on impact. This is the point where I realize that they’ve given Optimus fingernails. Sam clings to him like a baby koala, as Optimus parkours down the sides of two buildings, Megatron in pursuit. Megatron actually lands on Optimus 2/3rds of the way down, causing the both of them to fall onto the pavement below. How Sam survives this is a mystery.

Megatron recovers from the fall first, flicking a human away from him for having the audacity to exist in his space. The flicked person hits a car, and is almost assuredly dead. At least, I sure hope so, given that this is the director cameo by the Bayman himself.

Feminist icon Megatron?

Feminist icon Megatron.

Optimus comments on the fact that Sam almost fucking died to get the AllSpark out of dodge, and we get the return of “No Sacrifice, No Victory”. Which, I mean, I guess he’s allowed to say that, since he’s actually had to do something that warranted it. His dad doesn’t get to, though.

Optimus then tells this teenage boy, who has already had a hell of a day, to kill him by shoving the AllSpark into his robot-soul-heart, should he be unable to defeat Megatron.

I dunno, I just feel like it’s a bit of an ask.

Sam climbs off of Optimus so the Prime and Megatron can rumble. He runs through the ruined infrastructure of the city, so he’s less likely to be crushed. Optimus tells Megatron to square the fuck up, stating that “one shall stand, one shall fall.”

Then he gets ragdolled around a bunch, so maybe he should have saved the talk for later in the game.

The military is running around some more, stopping in an alley to see Blackout transform to root mode. Yes, the goo-goo eyes were indeed made by several members of the watch party that started this whole thing. People went wild for Rotor-Cape Johnson.

The fighter jets from the US military are arriving in a minute. Epps warns them to aim for the robots that aren’t evil. Lennox and the gang spread out, reminding each other to aim for the underboob, since Transformers’ armor is weak there. Epps marks Blackout with a little green light, which Blackout almost immediately notices. Blackout fires on the military.

Lennox has stolen a motorcycle and is driving through the streets to circle back around and jump off of the bike, sliding on his back to shoot Blackout directly in his underboob. Wonder what his uniform is rated for for road rash.

Sam is watching as Optimus gets his ass handed to him. Up in the sky, Starscream commits identity theft, and then attacks the Air Force. The Air Force can multitask however, and light Megatron the fuck up. Sam has, for some reason, come out of hiding, and Megatron uses this to his advantage, trying to take the AllSpark from him.

Optimus tells Sam to put the AllSpark in his chest, but Sam has a better idea. He shoves it into Megatron’s chest, which has been basically shot open at this point. Megatron makes a Space Invader noise, convulses a bit, then falls over dead.

Congrats on your first murder, Sam.

Optimus tells Megatron’s corpse that he got what was coming to him, then implies that they’re brothers. What flavor of brother isn’t established, but neither was basically anything between the two main faces of the franchise in this film, so it’s fine.

Ironhide walks up holding the two halves of Jazz. Optimus informs Sam that he now has a life-debt to this child. Whether or not Sam is absorbing any information at this point is up in the air. Mikaela shows up, with Bumblebee in tow.

In tow.

In tow-

Sam stares at her blankly. Mikaela stares back, making the pretty girl face. Man, what a great dynamic these two have.

Jazz is dead. That sucks. Optimus is handed his corpse to hold, while he thanks his new friends for helping out.

Then Bumblebee talks and he’s fucKING BRITISH.

Sam is obviously shocked by the fact that Bumblebee is British able to talk now, since not talking has been his whole thing up to this point. Optimus doesn’t let it phase him. Neither does Ratchet, despite having been working on Bumblebee’s throat injury for centuries at this point.

Bumblebee wants to stay on Earth with Sam. Optimus is just like whatever. Sam agrees to have a sweet Camaro from outer space.

Optimus pulls what is left of the AllSpark out of Megatron’s chest. I’m sure that’s not a setup for potential conflicts, not in the slightest.

Over in Washington, D.C., the US President has ordered Sector Seven be terminated, and all the Transformer corpses be disposed of. And by “disposed of” they mean “thrown into the ocean.” Dang, sure hope Earth signed some sort of agreement with the Transformers so that they never come to Earth again. You know, just be proactive about our galactic safety.

The Linkin Park kicks on, as Optimus gives us our bookend narration, telling us what the Autobots plan to do now that their race is at a genological dead end. As he does, we see Lennox reunite with his wife and child, who I had genuinely forgotten were in this movie.

Optimus is pretty chill with Cybertron dying out, because now they know about Earth. We get a shot of Sam and Mikaela making out, a shot that becomes more and more horrifying the further they zoom out, because they’re making out on top of Bumblebee. Who they KNOW is a sentient creature at this point.

And then it gets even worse, because the shot changes, and oh hey! Turns out that the rest of the Autobots were just chillin’ off to the side while this went down. Optimus continues his monologue, just walking around in his root mode as he tells all of Makeout Point how they’re “robots in disguise” now.

The monologue is actually a transmission he’s sending out into space, inviting any of his leftover pals to come kick it on Earth with them, because Earth is pretty cool.

And that’s where they leave us.

IT TOOK THREE PEOPLE TO WRITE THIS SCHLOCK.

So. Bayverse 1. A film showcasing xenophobia, misogyny, and toxic nationalism. It’s rough. Is it the worst film I’ve ever seen? Not even close, but it’s bad, and it was a huge deal at the time of release. Everyone was seeing it, everyone knew the actors and robots, everyone had a scene that they liked. Everyone was exposed to Bayverse, and as a result, a lot of people entered the Transformers franchise thinking that it was all like this.

And really, how far off would they have been in 2007?

When a franchise refuses to introduce female characters until years after being established, when all those female characters have the exact same body type, when a franchise hires misogynists to write stories, when it allows shit like “Prime’s Rib!” to be published- no wonder Michael Bay was approached to direct.

What a mess.

--------------------------

COMING SOON:

TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN (2009) - MEGAN FOX I AM SO FUCKING SORRY

TRANSFORMERS: DARK OF THE MOON (2011) - WILL YOU JUST STAY DEAD

TRANSFORMERS: AGE OF EXTINCTION (2014) - SHUT UP ABOUT THE LAW SHUT UP ABOUT THE LAW

TRANSFORMERS: THE LAST KNIGHT (2017) - ACTUALLY, FUCK CONTINUITY

#transformers #bayverse #part one #maccadam #Hannzreads #Hannzwatches #text post #long post #film analysis #off topic

205 notes · View notes

talesofphantombandits · 4 years

Text

Zero to Six ~ The Death of Six - Edited version.

Greetings and salutations! So I know this isn’t what everyone wanted but people are still reading Zero to Six and I’m honestly so grateful that a year on, people are still loving this series. But I never felt like I wrote it properly, the chapters where always too short and I felt like they were never detailed enough so I wanted to bring to you an edited version (that probably still won’t be perfect.) one that I’m more satisfied with. I will be keeping the original version up just in case people prefer that one, maybe one day I’ll take it down? who knows but yeah so enjoy! <3 P.s I’ve missed you all so much and I’ve really missed this series. Hopefully sometime soon the Prequel will be out which I have started and named ‘Before there was Six, there was Zero.’

Characters: Four X Zero (OC) Summary: Zero was the first person to be ‘saved’ by One, she was his first honorary Ghost. Her knowledge in tech meant she got the role of ‘Hacker’ she recruited new team members, looked for missions and locations and made sure every security measure was looked at. You know normal hacker spy stuff. But her tough up bringing meant that if needs be she could fight, she was maybe even better than some people on the team knew. But due to One’s protectiveness over her she had to stay hidden, she was more of an actual ghost than the rest of the team was. This didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun though, over the months of being with the full team she had formed quite a passionate love/ hate relationship with the handsome Four. Who knows what sparks would fly if they were ever to meet. Warnings: Slight swearing, some suggestive flirting in later chapters.

Tagg list: (I know this is a edit of my original story but if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.) @raylan-c

Zero to Six ~ Part 2. Edited Version. Masterlist.

“You’re stalling.”

“I’m not stalling.” Zero could practically hear the smirk in Fours voice over the coms. “I’m simply just working myself up to it.”

She laughed. “You always say that, and you’re always stalling.” She was playing on his last nerve, she knew it but this would be good for Four and entertainment for her. He always worked better when he was frustrated and no one stressed him out quite like Zero.

Four had been doing parkour for most of his life, or that’s what he told them. Yet he was still fearful every single time, still I guess that’s what made him great at it the fear of always falling gave him the adrenaline he needed to make the jumps.

Another breathless laugh fluttered through Zeros left ear. “Don’t test me darling.” Now it was his turn to make Zero sweat, this always happened. Zero would insult and tease and Four would flirt right back, although most of the team were used to it by now they still broke them up from time to time.

“Whatever monkey boy, just be ready for when Six gets his ass in gear!” She clicked her tongue. “I can hear you mocking me asshole, remember I hold the key here I can make your life a living hell with just one click of a button.”

“You already make my life hell darling, But I live for it everyday.”

“Swear to god Four, you’re a pain in my ass.” She mumbled as she typed away at the computer trying to figure out their next move so she could be ready with any instruction they needed.

“I’m sure your ass is pretty fine, I can’t wait to see it someday.” She could practically feel the smirk.

“Yeah? And I can't wait to punch the smirk off that pretty face one day, only you could be in a life or death situation and be thinking about my virtual ass.”

“Wait, did you just admit to fancying me Zero? Guys she called me handsome, I think I’m getting somewhere.”

“Go for Four!” Saved by the bell it seems, One’s voice rang through coms. Zero silently thanked god for she did fancy Four, who wouldn’t fancy that absolute Greek god of a man? With that honey voice and the moves he had! moves he could use on her, she shook her head hoping the images of him forming in her head would magically fall out of her brain never to return, but she wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Shut the hell up, stop thinking about ways to seduce Zero and get your ass down here we need you!” And just like that, it was go time. “NOW!”

Zero had been working with this team for a while now, but she was more on the surveillance side of the missions, which meant that she had never officially met the team face to face. The only person she had actually met was One, who had recruited her. He would visit from time to time, she liked to think they had a special bond. She was in fact the first person in need that One had found and ever since then he had become a sort of father figure to her.

Two was next who was sort of cold at times, Zero put this down to her CIA training but she had never been anything but caring towards Zero. Then she found Three, a hitman who she was reluctant to look into at first but she knew now it was the best thing for her and the team. Despite his past he was one of the most sweet and caring men she’d ever met, and he never failed to make her smile on a bad day. Ever since recruiting Four, she felt the atmosphere in the group shift slightly, there was nothing bad about him but they both couldn’t ignore the growing attraction between them, and this was just over cyber space. She then found her best friend in Five, she was different from the rest. Not as violent and rash but still amazing at what she did and protecting herself and others, Zero knew if she ever needed someone the first person she’d go to was Five.

Six was her latest recruit, one that she knew was extremely talented in not only driving but in all things mechanical too, they had chatting a few times about servers and bots and he’d promised her a round in their shared favourite video game once this mission was complete.

She’d be lying to herself and everyone else if she said she didn’t want to meet them all in person, they were the closest thing she had, had to family. However she knew that if she was to meet them nothing could ever come of her and Four. One would definitely not allow it, and most likely lock her straight back up.

Still they were sort of this dysfunctional family, and she was definitely the odd one out. She couldn’t remember the last time she had, had a normal conversation with someone who wasn’t ‘dead’ the only time she was allowed to leave the flat was when One said it was moving day. He didn’t like her staying in one flat too long, she must have moved at least four times this year already. While she was alone in her flat eating ready meals they were all back at base eating together, she sometimes pretended she was there eating with them. Three telling her some stupid story that no one else is listening to because they have heard it at least a thousand times, but she would just be so happy to hear his beautiful accent in person that she would listen to anything he was telling her. How she wished she could hug three in real life. The closest she had gotten to eating with them was over coms, sometimes they would leave the line open for debriefing but it still made her feel like an outcast.

“I’m coming down!” Everything was going wrong, Six had gone the wrong way. Which Zero wasn’t surprised to see as everyone in the car was shouting at each other, she sat there in her gaming chair drinking Dr Pepper and enjoying her fried chicken meal while everyone was losing their minds in the field. Maybe getting to stay in the comfort of her flat wasn’t so bad after all?

“Good boy.” She praised Four. “Finally putting those parkour skills to use, other than robbing some innocent person.”

Even before he started to speak she could tell he’d started to run because his speech came out in huffs. “Shut up, at least I can do parkour which makes me cooler than a girl who sits at her computer all day.”

She had to laugh. “What are you? Five years old? Try again when you can think up better come backs, I can’t take you seriously right now.”

Wherever One moved Zero was never too far away from where the team worked, the first time the rest of the team worked this out was when Zero first used the drone to help navigate them someplace safe. That was also the first time she finally got to see Four in action, the image of him running along the rooftops like a monkey in the jungle both amused her and impressed her. Hence the nickname she had given him. But there were also times when he would have close calls, where he had nearly fallen to his death that’s when the breath would get knocked out of her and she would only calm when she knew he was safe on the ground again.

“Right over you guys.” He said in a strained voice while leaping onto another roof.

“So guys, just look out for the flying monkey above you. That will be Four.” Most of the teasing with Four was just to pass the time while they were out in the field having fun and mainly it was just way too fun to hear him get so frustrated.

“Zero, that’s not helping us.” One said in a sing-song voice.

“Maybe it’s not helping you, but it is definitely helping me pass the time.” All she could hear was a disappointed grunt from One which just made her chuckle,it was also very fun to piss One off.

“Six! SIX! Wrong way god damn it!”

She cringed at how loud Four had screamed down the coms. “Come back! I’ve got an idea.”

“Ladies and gentleman, for the first time in his life Four has an idea!” She said mindlessly typing away trying to find the best route for them to escape by.

“You know what Zero, when we finally meet I’m going to run that fine ass of yours into the ground.” He all but growled.

“You can try monkey boy, but you’ll have to catch me first.” She smirked to herself, she secretly hoped that, that was more of a promise than a mere threat. “Oh, challenge accepted sweetheart. I’d love to have a game of cat and mouse with you.”

“You two do remember that we are on a mission right now, right?” Six moaned. “What with you two flirting, and these absolute idiots fighting beside me in the car. I’m finding it very hard to concentrate on driving!” With every word Six’s voice got more agitated and louder.

“We are not flirting!” Both Four and Zero exclaimed together.

“Aww they even said it at the same time!” Zero just rolled her eyes at One’s teasing. “No one cares, now both of you shut up so we can all get out of here.”

“That’s it Six, keep coming towards me!” The drone was filming just above the action, once she’d wiped her hands and they were free from the grease on her chicken. She finally realised what Four was about to do.

Suddenly the car that was tailing Six was being impaled by five metal tubes. “God, okay I’m definitely done eating now. That was so gross.”

Then the screaming started to fill the coms. “Guy’s, what the hell are you doing?” All Zero could make out was something about an eyeball.

“This is so stressful! Can everyone stop arguing and speaking over each other?!” Zero was getting agitated now.

“YOU THINK YOU’RE STRESSED?! I’M TRYING TO DRIVE WHILST ALSO TRYING NOT TO KILL ANYONE, DID I MENTION I ALSO HAVE AN EYEBALL ON MY LEG?!” Six all but screamed down the coms, loud enough that Zero had to remove her earpiece until she was sure he was done with his rant.

“Six sweetie,” she said as calmly as she could, trying not to laugh. “Are you okay?”

“DO I SOUND LIKE I’M OKAY ZERO?!” She knew he would say that, she finally let out the chuckle she was trying to hold as to not irritate him further.

“Sorry I was just asking. I swear I‘m not using your painful situation to make myself feel better.” She held her hands up in defence even though he couldn’t see her.

He just let out a huff. “I’m going to ignore you now Zero, you’re pissing me off more than these guys are.”

After the commotion things went quiet for a while, there was now a helicopter tailing them so all effort and concentration went on losing it. While there was little chatter over the coms the main sound that dominated the air was the gunfire, Zero silently prayed to herself while she watched the drone that everyone would make it out of their first real mission alive. One finally found a route for them, conveniently inside of a building that would shelter them enough to lose the aerial surveillance they were under.

“The drone will meet you on the other side, good luck and please try not to make too much of a mess in there Six. There are some priceless statues in there we would all like preserving.” Just as Zero finished her sentence she heard a loud crash.

“You were saying?” Six chuckled nervously.

“You didn’t.” Zero stared shocked at her screen, mouth wide open.

One was the one to respond to her though. “Unfortunately he did, don’t worry we’re all just as disappointed in him.”

“Okay we finally lost the chopper, Zero do you have a visual?” One asked surprisingly calmly.

“You mean the bright green car, kind of hard to miss. Good choice Six you really blend in.” Zero laughed. “I see you, there are two black vans heading your way. Shake them off then head to the arranged rendezvous spot where Three will be waiting for you.”

Six’s voice was strained when he spoke. “Listen, fast and convenient was what I was told to get. So that’s what I got.”

Zero would have responded but she was more distracted by the sight of Four on a skateboard holding a launcher. He jumped off the board and leaped up onto the stone wall just as one of the black vans passed, he aimed and shot, never missing the mark. She was impressed for a moment but then saw the smug smile on his face, he looked directly into the drone and winked at Zero. She just scoffed, what an absolute show off.

“Seems like we have a superhero on our team.” Six laughed impressed.

Zero scoffed again, but this time loud enough so everyone could hear it over the coms. “I wouldn’t exactly call him a superhero.”

“Then what would you call me darling? A Greek god?” This is the thing about Four, he’d never met Zero in person but he knew exactly how to push her buttons. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the banter from time to time.

“Hurm more like a vein asshole that thinks far too highly of himself.” She snapped back.

But he just laughed, the complete opposite of what she was expecting. “I mean everyone else loves me, might as well love myself too.” She rolled her eyes, She really couldn’t blame him though he was a very handsome man but no way in hell was she ever going to tell him that. “One day you’ll fall for the charm that everyone else falls for. I know you’re already obsessed with me.”

“In your dreams Four.”

“It already happens in my dreams, every night darling. I’d be happy to elaborate later on in a private chat.” Zero audibly gagged.

“Guy’s can we please cut out the flirting until after the mission? We’re nearly there and I don’t think any of us want to hear whatever this is.” One sounded tired and Zero just laughed at how much their fighting annoyed the other members.

“Yes boss!” She added in a salute even though One couldn’t see her, he could feel she was mocking him.

Just then the drone cut out. “Shit! Someone shot down the drone. You’re on your own from here guys.”

There was a commotion through the coms, one that didn’t sound at all good. Car tyres screeched, bullets rain down on the metal of the car Zero held her breath as she waited for anything. Even just a breath so she knew at least someone was still alive, her heart stopped when the line had been silent for too long she had to know what happened.

“Guys, come on talk to me. What’s going on? Why are you all being so silent? What happened?” There was another breath of silence and her mind went straight to Four, she shook her head. No! She wasn’t going to let herself think about that, she scolded herself for getting too attached to the little shit.

The was a crackle over the line, Five cleared her throat. “Six is dead, we’re in the van, the space is clear.”

Zero sucked in a breath, she felt like her lungs were burning. “What?”

“Zero listen to me, you need to turn off coms now.” One must have turned from the group, he was using his quiet, serious voice. “I’ll handle this okay, I’ll check back in with you later.”

Just like that he was gone, she clicked the switch to turn off almost absentmindedly. She sat back in her chair, only snapping back to reality when she felt something wet fall on her hand. She softly touched her face to find her cheeks were wet, when had she started to cry? Six wasn’t someone she knew in person, he had been the last member of the team but still a very important piece of their puzzle. She thought about the game he had promised to play with her after the mission, this would never come to pass now. Now he was really dead, and it was all her fault.

For the first time Zero started to think about the whole team and if One’s master plan of being ghosts to take down the world’s evil was such a good idea after all, why had it taken a real death in the team for her to even think about this. What if it had been Four, she didn’t think she could live with herself if anything ever happened to Four, maybe it was a good thing they had never met. Seeing him in person, hearing his deep honey voice, feeling his warmth would definitely make her fall deeper then she already was. He was just a voice over the coms but behind that was a real person, one that probably wouldn’t even share the same feelings towards her. So she thought ‘Yes, It’s a good thing I’m behind this computer screen and not with them in person.’ She had to try to distance herself from now on.

......

Just wanted to say one last Thank You! for the continued support for this story <3

#ben hardy #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy four #6 underground #6 underground fanfiction #6 underground four #6 underground fanfic #6 underground billy #four #four fanfiction #four fanfic #four x reader #four x oc #four x zero #billy x reader #billy x oc #billy x scout #6 underground x reader

116 notes · View notes

jhoudiey · 3 years

Text

Inspired by a convo in the writing server and by Mamo's salty Jade, I wrote some fluffy-ish Yoru and Floyd mountain "date" nonsense. No warnings except bad grammar.

_______________________________________________________

“Hey Fugu-chan do you wanna come fight a monster with me?” Floyd had pulled himself through Yoru’s window as usual to interrupt her studies.

“Floyd, it’s 1pm, don’t you have class?”

“Ehhh I don’t wanna go, its the same boring stuff every day anyway” He perched in her windowsill urging her to follow him.

“Where’s this monster?” She grinned and put her books down, Floyd had a point. Fighting was always more fun than studying.

“In the mines where we went camping! I wanna see if I can find another one!” he insistently waved for her to hurry up.

“Still mad you didn’t get to go all out last time, huh?” She stretched out her shoulders and joined him at the window.

“Mhmmm~ Now that I have my magical pen back I want to play some more ehe!” She laughed and hopped out the window behind him.

They landed at the mouth of the caves, Yoru letting him down from her talons before touching down on the ground beside him. He sprinted into the tunnels with a grin on his face, shouting for any monsters to show up to play. Yoru flew behind him trying to stifle her laughter, he looked like a kid on a sugar high.

“Eeeeehhhh Fugu-chan this is taking foreverrrrrrr” He whined after half an hour in the caves with no appearance of any monsters. “Can’t you use your magic and find one?” he begged. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

“That's not how my magic works Floyd, I can only see through crows, not through rocks. I’m the only bird in these caves so unless there’s a hidden crows nest somewhere I can’t help”

“Huh? Then what good is your unique magic then?” he complained, crossing his arms

“Says the guy who can only deflect magic, wouldn’t stop me taking your head off-” They were interrupted by a low rumbling coming from the path behind them. They turned to the sound, another Overblot monster materializing from the darkness. Floyd cheered, happy that his foe had finally appeared.

“Awe maaaaaan, Floooooyd, you never said it was an overblot monster! I can’t fight this!” Yoru complained as the monster descended on them.

“Eeeh? Why not? This is fun!” Floyd danced out of the way of the monster, hitting it with some magic of his own to keep it away from them.

“I can’t do magic, remember? All I can do is see. My hands and feet won’t do shit to that thing” She pouted, sitting on the ground with a huff, resigned to watch Floyd fight it on his own. He was clearly enjoying himself, hitting it with spell after spell. Yoru watched on in envy, how amazing would it be to be able to do magic like that. She watched him dance around the monster, attacking with reckless abandon, his own unique magic deflecting the attacks thrown at him.

Yoru sighed resting with her head in her hands, eyes following the battle. Floyd really was incredible, so much so it pissed her off. He made it seem so effortless. Fire, grass, water, ice, wind, dark… every kind of magic she’d dreamed of having Floyd was throwing out without a care in the world, this level of effort was nothing to him, when she couldn't even change the colour of a single flower petal. After what seemed like hours the glass head on the monster cracked, it’s ink splashing to the ground. It roared and the walls around them shook.

“Hey Floyd, you should finish up, if this thing collapses the cave around us we’re screwed” she said flatly, watching small rocks fall from the ceiling.

“Okay Fugu-chaaaaan~ Let me show you my special move, just look at how amazing I am!” He unleashed his strongest attack yet, Yoru wasn’t able to conceal her admiration for him. Her jaw dropped.

“Holy shit… you’re actually incredible…” she muttered, more annoyed than ever at how talented he was. The monster crumbled before them, disappearing into ink and sinking back into the ground. Floyd cheered.

“Yaaaayyyy!! That was fun!” he looked exhausted. His hair was a mess and he drenched in sweat, but the grin he wore was one of the biggest Yoru had ever seen. It was quite cute. She nodded at him and held out her arm in case he needed to lean on her, she wasn’t sure how he was still standing after expending so much magic in such a short time. He stretched his arms behind his head, not needing her assistance.

“We should have a fire too! Come on Fugu-chan!” He grabbed her hand and ran from the cave, staggering when they got outside and saw that the sun had already begun to set. “Uwaaahhh I’m tired all of a sudden, carry me Fugu-chan” She laughed. It seemed Floyd wasn’t invincible after all.

She flew to the shore of the lake, setting him down near an old decaying log. Somewhere along their flight he’d fallen asleep. She set to work gathering firewood, setting the wood in a way that would be easy to ignite once he woke up. When that was ready she wandered over to the lake to grab some fish, no sense not eating while they were out. They didn’t have any spices, but grilled fish was simple enough and delicious on it’s own. She wasn’t as proficient as catching fish with her bare hands as Floyd, but it still didn’t take her long before she’d caught half a dozen and brought them back to their impromptu base camp. The sun had fully set by the time she’d gotten the fish onto their skewers and shook Floyd awake so he could start the fire.

“Hmmm? When did I fall asleep?” He whined, confused by his surroundings

“When we were flying over here, you went limp almost immediately after we took off, I almost dropped you” Yoru grinned at him “Now can you get the fire going, I’m starving.” He nodded, using his magic to light the fire as she arranged the fish around it to cook.

“Wait, lemme see your pen” She said suddenly, able to see the once white gem clouded over with black ink in the firelight. She grabbed at it but he snatched it out of reach and shoved it back into his pocket. “Floyd, let me see it” Yoru growled at him, he pouted and handed it to her, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it from her if she fought him for it.

“Floyd… that’s a lot of blot… you need to be more careful. If you overblotted I’d have you kill you, I wouldn't be able to stop you with magic”

“Haaaah like you could, you saw how strong I am! Ahaha! What do you know about overblotting anyway, you can barely do magic!” He argued, turning the fish to roast their other sides.

“Hmmm? Didn’t I tell you? I overblotted once as a kid. It sucked”

“As a kid? Did you have magic when you were younger? What happened to it ehe~” He raised an eyebrow at her, curious at how she had lost her magic. She snorted

“No. I got my unique magic really young but I didn’t know what it was so I used it all the time since I didn’t know any better. Dad found me screaming in bed, said I had all these shadowy birds walking over and pecking at me, he still talks about it like it’s the worst thing he’s ever seen.” She rolled her eyes, thinking about Crowley's overly theatrical reactions to the lamest things.

Floyd cringed away from her, throwing his hands up. “Eugh that sounds so gross!” He sat forward again with a smile “But it’s funny knowing even without a lot of magic you can overblot”

“Yea, really funny” She glared at him. “How are you not ranked higher at school though? You’re so amazing it pisses me off”. He smirked at her

“Doing everything I’m supposed to is boring so I just do whatever I want and fail sometimes cause I don’t feel like doing it” He grabbed one of the fish, happily biting into it.

“That must be nice. I wish I could say I’m not jealous of your talent” She bit into her own fish, chewing it more fiercely than was necessary.

“Hmmmm why are you jealous though? You’re really smart too, Fugu-chan” He smiled and chowed down, very much enjoying his meal. Yoru groaned, she wasn't used to compliments.

“...Thanks. ...By the way, didn’t Jade say he wanted to come out here with you next time? Isn’t he going to be mad we came without him?” Floyd's eyes grew wide before settling back to normal

“Eeeehhhh probably, but I wanted to find that monster and Jade wouldn't come with me so it’s his fault anyway” he shrugged, carefully selecting his last fish.

“Maybe he won’t be that mad, it’s not like we really did much mountaineering up here anyway” Yoru shrugged, finishing her meal and throwing sand on the fire. “We should get back though, unlike you, I do have some homework I need to hand in because I’m not allowed to fail”

They landed back in the mirror chamber full of fish and tired from adventure.

“Hey, next time you find a monster make sure it's one I can fight too. I can’t help but want to show off what I can do without magic”

“Kaaaaay~!” Floyd sang, hopping through the mirror that would take him back to Octavinelle.

“Ahh Floyd, you’re back late, did you enjoy your date? You missed dinner, Azul was worried sick about you” Jade smirked at him from across their bedroom. Floyd flopped into his bed, exhausted. Fugu-chan was right, he’d used too much magic today and was still tired despite his earlier nap.

“Aha! Azul wouldn’t worry about something thing like that, besides he would have been mad at me for going to fight a monster and getting my uniform all dirty”

“Oya? A monster? You never mentioned there was a monster on campus” Jade chuckled

“Ehhhh? It wasn’t on campus, me and Fugu-chan went back to Mount Dwarf to fight with the overblot monster in the caves! It was really fun!” Jade slowly turned to glare at Floyd.

“Floyd… you returned to the mountains once again without me�� He exhaled dramatically. “You found yourself a girlfriend and completely forgot about little old me, all alone and mountainless” He let out an exaggerated sigh “I can’t believe my own twin would discard me so carelessly, how cruel” Floyd sat up in bed, a frown painted on his face.

“haaaaaaaaahhhh you said you didn’t want to come! You can’t complain about it now”

“Perhaps it is for the best, I wouldn’t want to be a third-wheel after all... I’ll just make you come with me next time I go...” he muttered to himself under his breath

“Ehhh what are you even talking about Jade?” Floyd laid back down and stretched out into his blankets.

“While crashing a date seems like it would be a lot of fun, I don’t believe Yoru-san is very fond of me, and she does have a habit of getting violent when she’s angry. I wouldn’t care to be on the receiving end of those talons.”

“It wasn’t even a date” he complained, rolling away to face the wall. He hadn’t told Jade about his failed confession at Vargas’s weekend camp so the insinuations he and Yoru were dating stung. “...and she’s not even my girlfriend” he muttered into his pillow.

“Fufufu not yet” Jade chuckled to himself as Floyd started snoring.

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #yoru crowley #floyd leech #jade leech #twst #twst fic #twisted wonderland #dumb and dumber

22 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Keeping Pets.”

It’s been a while since I have given you one of Krill’s rages. Plus I got up late this morning, so lol. Hope you like it

Discord server invite https://discord.gg/VSj2EC

From the Journal of Biology and Medicine

This research focuses primarily on the ability of the human to interact and bond with different types of species. All over the galaxy it has been seen that humans have the ability to interact with and understand different species around them in ways that are meaningful for both parties. However, a different and more interesting phenomenon witnessed on the human home world is that practice of keeping a “pet: an animal which is not considered sentient that is allowed to live and interact with the humans, sometimes sharing their houses, and even sharing their beds. No one knows what underlies this profound urge to bring other creatures into their homes, but it is a practice humans have been participating in for well over four thousands years, perhaps even, since the beginning of their existence.

Am I allowed o make a complaint! No no I am not asking. I was simply warning you that I am going to complain in a very round about way. I don’t really care whether you want to complain or not. I am simply angry at how everything humans do seems to be a direct attempt to make me angry, or scare e half to death. I honestly think it is on purpose, a species cannot feasibly be this reckless if that were not the case. I mean, they bring apex predators into their beds for Sanctum’s sake. Here, here let me explain.

The Dog. It basically just a fucking wolf. Yeah, once upon a time humans cuddled up to the most cunning pack predator in the world and thought it would be fun to bring them inside around their kids. I mean are you kidding me, this creature can grow to over one hundred pounds and has razor sharp K-9 teeth that can rip your throat out. It has a nose that can smell the adrenaline excretions…. It can flip the smell fear. IN fact humans say that this creature is domesticated, but may I point out to you that dogs are responsible for killing people all across the world. It’s a predator, it wasn’t to eat your face. And before you go saying , well that is only big dogs, the little dogs are worse. They are big killers trapped inside a tiny body and that makes them neurotic and angry and way more willing to just go ahead and chomp your finger right off. And humans LOVE these creatures, they love them. They will dress them up in little sweaters and little shoes, and they will coo over them constantly. It is HORRIFIC. They even give them to disabled people, some of the most vulnerable of their species, and they just hand them an apex predator like it’s no big deal!..... I’m getting worked up, aren't I?

The cat: So basically a tiny tiger that still has all the instincts of a tiny tiger. If it were bigger it would definitely kill you. Now luckily for us the domesticated ones only come in one size, and that size is rather small (for the most part) because if these suckers were big, they would be like tigers or pumas, and they would be more than willing to rip our face off. What is worse, at least with dogs you can argue that they are well tempered and loving, but cats. They hate you, they are using you and they know it, everyone knows it. They will come up to you to be petted and instead of walking away like a normal creature when they are done they will just claw you, just claw you no explanation to apology just claws. And what is WORSE is the people who own cats are even more delusional than the ones that own dogs because I bet you there is a human reading this right now that says well my cat is nice, or another human that thinks well yeah my cat does this sometimes, but he/she’s so cute and I love them anyway so there…. Humans are blinded by their need to touch and hold fuzzy things.

Horses: Ok, I know this one does not go inside, but hear me out on this one. It is a giant frigging deer thing that comes in as many sizes as dogs do, and one day some a hole human decided to hop on one’s back and go riding into the sunset, never mind that this thing could kick you into a state of internal hemorrhaging even “I” Would balk at. IT i to big put it away and let it roam free, but no instead humans decided to ride it.

Rabbit: Shouldn’t you be eating these things? Also, they have clawed back feet, and sometimes they bite. Why do you want one so badly

Rats : It's a fucking rat! Like boubonic plague! Is any of that ringing a bell. This thing is literally vermin, its job is to carry diseases and be nasty, and you want to keep one in your child’s bedroom

Guinea pigs/gerbils/ mice: See rats above, I am just saying these things are tiny rats and their job is to carry diseases. It is gross so don’t touch them.

Birds: Again with the disease thing. These guys are flying rats. Ok I get it humans love cute things that can make noise and talk, but these guys are super loud and expensive to take care of. Just do yourself a solid and let it go, it belongs out in the wild where it can be annoying outside and not inside.

Lizards: I mean ok…. Pretty sure these carry diseases too. Also, they will never love you and they are very expensive to keep.

Snake: it's a fucking snake! One of humanities the worst fears, and you WANT one. This thing has haunted the nightmares of your people for the past couple thousand years, and you want to cuddle it. Plus you have to feed it dead mice. Some of you have a snake so big that it is capable of swallowing medium-sized animals whole. This is literally the definition of a predator, some of them are even venomous. Why- why-why-why-why do you have one. WHY DO YOU HAVE A SNAKE. THE MIND BOGGLES!

Tarantula: *slamming noises* You guys are just fucking with me now right. Just straight fucking with me. This isn’t serious. Like we have come all this way, just for me to learn about this shit. This isn’t real, it cannot be real because that would mean that you guys are way stupider than I thought you were. I mean…. I can't…. Nope I am done I cant…. I draw the line at big ass spiders.

Why hasn’t god terminated your species yet. Surely natural selection would not encourage you to actively seek out creatures that can kill and eat you. Why, why, why are you still getting bigger. Why are you thriving. Why am I here with you, why did I decide to leave the safety of my own planet

*incoherent screaming”

“Why is the human need to touch other living things so damn strong!. What biological purpose is this!”

Rrrrrrrraaaaaaaaahahhhhhhh

441 notes · View notes

penname-artist · 3 years

Text

Back to Earth

Salutations, fans and freaks! Tis the morrow!

Well, I’m back now! A month of relaxing and writing/drawing my heart out without the pressure of needing to post really did the trick. I’ve made peace with a lot of things too in my personal life, dusted off my jeans, and kept walking. (I’m glad that this time, I can keep my head up and not fall prey to selfishly hanging onto the past. Been there, done that, got the tattoo to prove it! Time to do some good in the world instead!)

I have several things I’d like to announce, and it’s all new content coming very soon (that I can guarantee WILL come soon, because I have already made it. These are not empty promises!)

Volo Pro Veritas, a Planes fan Discord server, will go LIVE October first, open to all by request! We’ll have our own little Planes Discord server to geek out, it’s gonna be great! It’s going to be a really chill server, nothing too fancy or complicated. (DISCLAIMER: we strongly suggest you are 18+ for this server!)

Also, a special launch trailer will be going up for VPV in the coming days, and another couple of *special treats* I cooked up for my YouTube channel! I’m so excited to share it with you guys, you have no idea! :D

As well as all that, I’ll be adding tons of chapters into The Human Files soon, and a new WoC short series called First Light! I did several writing drabbles while I was away, and I’m proud of them all. And, a NEW mini-miniseries is coming out, mostly to my Tumblr but I’ll add them to my Tidbits too, I’m gonna post little snippets of information on my headcanons! These are gonna be TINY and on a whim, literally just as they happen, so there’ll be a lot of random flakes of information that I haven’t found the time or place to throw in yet. I’ll group them up in Tidbits to have an actual morsel of content, and it’ll go under the new [HC] tag (for headcanon). Finally, a way to mention Nick’s weird sleeping habits, how Dusty is taller than Blade and Nick is a midget, and my idea of shipping names! It’s gonna be great, I’m very excited. ;P

IvoryS-J and I are kinda-sorta collabing, too! We’re doing an A/B/O fic (as I think I teased in Tidbits before) with some other, similar drabbles around it! Bravo and Echo might also be making appearances in the future… ;)

Working on tons more stuff behind the scenes, including art, writing, and animations, but I’ll let that stuff speak for itself when it’s done and out. I didn’t forget about Emergency! It just decided to be a pain and my original idea for an ending went a little bit skewed, so I have to straighten it out the hard way. It’ll get done when it gets done!

And Though most of you don't seem to know what it is, NaNoWriMo is coming up this November and I am planning to partake in it! Here's to hoping I can crank out 50,000 words in one month!

Thank you guys for your kind words and support while I was out, too, that means so so SO much, I literally cannot express my gratitude enough to you guys. I’m so grateful that even now, having severed a bunch of ties out of necessity, so many other people have been able to be there for me and support me in that very thing, helping me push through my grieving, and find courage to do what I love again. I’ll be honest, I prayed over this server decision a lot, and I have been paranoid about it for so many reasons, more than I am allowing myself to say. But folks have reassured me (Ivory, I’m calling you out! And Tanel and Bobbly, as well as other friends) that even if this server isn’t big, isn’t flashy, isn’t more than what it is, it’s still perfectly allowed to just ‘be’, and we’re going to have a great time with it.

So, it’s been a crazy summer. But I’m rested and prepared now, and ready to be the best and realest shit y’all ever fucking SEEN! I hope you guys are ready, because I am fired up and ready to fly!

Enjoy the content coming in the next two and a half weeks guys, and until the ‘morrow!

PenName-Artist

#volo pro veritas #disney planes #announcements #personal update

3 notes · View notes

copias-thrall · 4 years

Text

The Band Onstage

Suey finally gets to go to a show

(Start at the beginning)

*public sex; rough sex*

Tonight is Mary’s gig at Regency. You’d put it in your calendar, but Mary still had texted you this morning.

Mary [6:12am]: Rgcy 2nite 8

Mary [8:03am]: Guitr 6 pls

You wanted to make fun of him for forgetting the most important thing, but the only reason it’s here in the first place was so he could see you while getting in some extra play.

And it allowed you some extra play.

It’s definitely one of your horny days. No matter what you do, it seems like every position you sit in presses on your clit in a delicious way. You usually just take a nap on your lunch break, but today you’re really going to have to do something about the fact that your focus is throbbing between your legs.

At 11:59am, you slam your laptop shut and hurry into your room. It’s a veritable minefield as usual—Mary always complains about tripping over your outfit detritus (“Can you not tread all over my shit, please?!” “Christ, if you care about it so much, why is it on your floor!?”)—but it’s a controlled chaos. You rummage around for your vibrator, which could be anywhere (Mary has the tendency to just toss it when he’s done with you), but should be on your small table. Or next to your pillow. Perhaps under the bed.

After a hasty search, you finally find it when you shake out your duvet. You go to settle in—then think maybe some porn, too? Which means you have to go back out to your laptop.

Ugh. Why is everything hard.

You shuffle back out to your living area and quickly get your viewing pleasure set up. The video starts, and you spread your legs, pressing the toy to your clit in morse code bursts. You’re just getting into it when—

bonk!

The neck of Mary’s guitar, which had been propped up on the other end of the couch, beans you in the temple.

“Ow, fuck!”

You set your vibe aside and, grumbling, begin to carefully maneuver his instrument out of the splash zone. You’re pretty worked up at this point—which will be your excuse to yourself later—so when your hand slides down the neck, you can’t help but think of the way Mary’s hands deftly manipulate it when he plays.

And, fuck—you love Mary’s hands.

Sliding your hand back up the neck, you pretend to be Mary pretending the guitar is you.

Doooown twang. Uuuuup, twang.

You hastily reach behind you and fumble around for your vibrator, pressing it in between your clenched thighs so you can grind against it as you stroke the guitar. Mary’s hands, hands on you, tongue in ear, on your neck, on your clit …

Fervently you rut against the buzzing toy, Mary’s guitar now clutched to you, as the stimulation finally sets you over the edge. You cry out—one hand shooting to grip at the couch cushion—as the continuous vibrations make you cum hard and then eke a demi-orgasm out of you before you can reach down to yank it away. You lie there for a minute—one hand still grasped around the guitar neck, the other pressed down on your cunt as you wait for the spasms to subside.

Taking in a deep breath, you stretch languorously … and notice how sticky you are now. Ugh—the crotch of your lounge pants is beyond hope, but you’re pretty sure you have a clean pair in one of the piles in your room.

You extract yourself from the couch and begin to shimmy off your pants; you realize you’re still pretty slick—fuck, are you going to have to shower or will a baby wipe do?!—when your eye lands on Mary’s guitar, now prone on the couch. Your lips spread in an involuntary grin. Clambering back onto the couch, you straddle the guitar. Tentatively, you lower your pussy onto the strings and start to slide up the neck.

Ok, you’re definitely going to need a shower.

It ends up feeling pretty weird, so you straighten back up, swipe your hand through your wet folds, and begin to smear that and what’s already on the strings the rest of the way up. You make sure to spread it out evenly all the way up, and—when you’ve exhausted what’s between your legs—you rub the crotch of your pants up and down the back. Only once you’re satisfied, do you climb off and gingerly take the instrument to secure in its case.

You decide to stretch out your lunch break—no sense showering now and then later. Turning on your email sound notifications, you hop into the shower, where you wash your hair with the good shampoo & conditioner and lose the fight against the patriarchy by shaving things.

A little bit of product in your hair, and you wrap yourself in an old, but comfortable robe. No use putting on clothes when you’re just going to take them off in a few hours!

You finish out the rest of your (long, boring) workday with minimal tantrums, though in your mind you’re already fucking Mary post show. Despite having already showered, you’re still running woefully behind to hand off Mary’s guitar to him at 6pm. You wrap your rain trench around you—you’d originally intended to wear your vintage one with the faux-fur collar, but you don’t want Mary seeing your outfit just yet—and head off to the club at a speed prance.

The door to the club isn’t locked, but when you wander in, it’s just a handful of staff—the bouncer leaning on the bar, the bartender counting his till, and some servers wiping down tables. The bouncer straightens.

“Doors at 7:30, honey.”

“Oh, um,” you stutter, “the band?”

“You can meet the band after, just like everybody else. For now ….” He starts to move in your direction, but then Mary appears—stiff and stomping towards you.

“What was it I said to you, Jimmy?” he snaps. “I said ‘A girl with a guitar.’ Does she look like a groupie to you?”

Jimmy rolls his eyes and puts his hands up before sitting back down. Mary practically rips the case from your grasp.

“You’re late,” he hisses at you. “It’s nearly 6:30!”

“Well ‘hello’ to you too, asshole. I was working til half past 5.”

Mary puts down the case, opening to check the contents—as if you’d bring him an empty case. Satisfied, he snaps it back shut.

“I said 6 for a reason! Soundcheck is in 5, and now I’m gonna have to do tuneups on the fly. Maybe next time skip on the primping, ok?”

You flick his ear.

“Fuck, ow.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Don’t be fucking late then!”

You snap your fingers in front of his face.

“I’m sorry—am I the one who forgot his guitar? Am I the one who begged me to be here with cunnilingus?”

“Well, if you don’t wanna be here, then leave. No one’s fucking forcing you.”

You glare at him, then count to ten.

You go to squish his face between your hands, realize he’s in full corpse paint, and instead rest them on his shoulders

“LOOK at me.” He does, pouting and eyebrows furrowed—your grumpy skeleton. “I do want to be here … but if you disrespect me like that again, I’m fucking walking. I don’t deserve to be talked to like that. Am I understood, Gorrey boy?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

You quirk your eyebrow at him.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he says more sharply.

“Good,” you say, giving him a quick, light peck on the lips. “You’ll do great,” you say in quieter tones.

“Thanks,” he says, leaning into you a bit. You push him away, playfully.

“Go! You have to go do soundcheck!”

He trundles off—muttering what sounds a lot like Pain in my ass—and when you look up you can see the hard eyes of the band on you from the platform stage. You form your hand into the bird and wave at them before sauntering out of the bar. With an hour to kill, you head to a cafe where you can nurse a tea and plug in your phone.

When 7:30 rolls around, you make your way back to the club. There’s a line, but when Jimmy sees you, he grins and waves you forward.

“You must have magic nipples or some shit to put ole’ Mary Goore in his place,” he says as he lets you in the club.

You wink at him. “They’re beer-flavored.” You hear him guffaw as you make your way in.

Now that the space is filled with people, it seems like a much bigger venue. It’s not at capacity yet, but there are enough patrons milling about for it to be lively. You luck out with a stool at the bar where you can easily see the stage. You shimmy out of your trench and grope around under the bar until you find a hook to hang it on.

You order a wheat beer from the bartender, who winks and tells you that the first one’s on the house. You beam in thanks, making a note to tip him extra when you settle up. As you sip your beer and do some people watching, you become aware of the two women sitting next to you. They’d been talking about “the band” (Mary’s is just the first opener) since you sat down, but you only tune in when it becomes clear they’re discussing Mary’s band.

“… totally slaps, of course, but they’re all so hot,” says the redhead with blond streaks framing her face.

“Ugh, right? But the lead guitarist especially can step on me,” says the bottled black-haired one with red lowlights.

Oh, you think, that’s Mary. It’s not like you don’t know Mary has fangirls. You’re not even particularly bothered by it—but reading comments on the internet is viscerally different than encountering it in the wild. It’s just: surreal.

You scoot your stool a little closer to the women.

“Hello? Hi. Yes, I’m sorry—but I couldn’t help but overhear you guys. That’s who I’m here to see too.”

You mean the band, but Black Hair says, “Oh! So you’re a Dead Girl, too?”

You squint. “I’m a …?”

Red Hair chortles. “Did you just get into them, then?”

“I—”

“I mean … they’re all hot, 10/10,” sighs Black Hair, “but ‘Dead Girls’ are Mary’s—that’s the lead guitarist—girls.”

Before you can say anything, Red Hair leans in conspiratorially.

“But don’t get your hopes up—I heard he’s got a girlfriend.”

Black hair tilts her head back and rolls it back and forth “Why. So unfair.”

You hide a smile behind your hand, wondering if you should say anything. Maybe you can get Mary to sign their … whatevers.

Red Hair pats her arm and leans in to stage whisper, “Don’t worry—I heard she’s fat and ugly. I’m sure you have a chance.”

“Ugh, why do they always go for the fat chicks? Is their self-esteem that low?”

“He probably feels obligated to her or something. Doesn’t know he’s got options now.”

Their casually cruel description of you leaves you stunned and feeling cold for a minute. And ok—your arms aren’t the firmest and maybe spanx are a lost cause

—which is as far as you get before you remember that you’re actually awesome and that this particular self-loathing train lost the caboose full of fucks a long time ago.

You scoot even closer to the women.

“Do you want to know something?”

The two of them look at you expectantly, heads tilted.

“It’s just—I know who his girlfriend is, and she’s such a bitch.”

You have their attention now, and they bring their stools in, too.

“Really?”

“Do tell!”

“OMG,” you say. “You are way skinnier, um … ?”

“Molly,” says Black Hair Molly.

“Katrina,” says Red Hair Katrina.

“Suey,” you say, introducing yourself with Mary’s pet name for you.

“So, what’s the tea?” asks Molly.

“Well … she thinks she’s amazing, and she bosses him around like whoa. I don’t think his bandmates like her very much.”

“Ooo,” squeals Katrina, “the salt!”

“Oh shit!” exclaims Molly. “Is she here?”

You exaggeratedly scan the room. “Hmm. I don’t see her in the crowd.

“So you think I have a chance?”

You scan her up and down, as if appraising.

“You can give it a shot.”

Katrina and Molly look at each other and start giggling.

Suddenly the lights dim, and everyone screams as Mary’s band takes the stage. The lead singer introduces them, yelling, and they dive into their first song. You don’t get to say much to the women after that—Mary’s band is loud, and some of the die-hard fans are screeching along in unison.

You’re not sure, but you think you can see Mary searching for you. You suddenly curse your spot at the bar. About 15 minutes in, however—as the lead singer is introducing the band members—Mary finally looks over your way. You give a small wave and he locks eyes with you; you give him the middle finger and suck it into your mouth seductively.

He doesn’t get a chance to respond before it’s his introduction, and he’s playing a complicated riff.

“OMG. Was he looking at us?”

“He was totally looking at us!”

You roll your eyes and turn around to order another beer.

Their set lasts about 45 minutes before they’re thanking the crowd and packing up their gear. The bigger bands will have roadies, but Mary and his bandmates have only themselves and the techs from the venue to rely on, so you know you’re in for a bit of a wait. Katrina and Molly are clapping and screaming their heads off, which—you can’t fault them for. People should appreciate Mary’s band.

“Do you think they’ll come out and mingle?” asks Molly.

“They’ll have to if they have a merch table,” says Katrina.

“Should we go wait there, or … ?”

“Just chill for a bit. You don’t want to seem so thirsty! Hit them up after the initial rush when they’re bored.”

Way sooner than he should be, you see Mary stalking over to you. You can hear the excited utterances of the women next to you as he comes close, but they fade into the background as Mary crowds into your space, leaving no room for the Holy Ghost. You gasp as he winds his hand into your hair.

“Fuck. Look at you,” he murmurs into your lips. “Look at this tight little number you’re wearing—I might have to ruin it later.” You’re wearing an electric blue halter dress with a neck collar. Your tits need a little help staying up these days, so instead of being backless, the lace of your razor bra is showing.

He steps back. “And what the fuck are these?” he says as he runs a hand up your stockings and under your dress. You’re wearing dark blue, wide-net tights that have felt flowers sewn on. They were a present from a college friend one Christmas, so they have a few holes due to the passage of time and chub rub—but you just tell people that makes them punk rock.

When his hand brushes between your legs, he feels your naked cunt. The pièce de résistance of your ensemble is a pair of crotchless panties you have on that were a gag party favor from an anti-Valentine’s soirée a friend-of-friend had thrown.

“Oh shit.” He crowds in close again and spins you 180º so that he’s between you and the bar. His finger traces your slit. “You make me so hot, do you know that?”

He takes your hand and presses it to the growing bulge of his crotch.

“Do you feel that? Do you feel how hot you make me?” He leans down to bite your neck as his finger slips between the lips of your cunt. Your head lolls to the side and you catch eyes with Katrina and Molly, who are quiet and looking pale.

Oh. Right.

You smile at them. “Such. A. Bitch,” you say at them.

Mary brings his head up, one hand still fingering you. “What?”

You smirk at him. “I was telling Kat and Molly over there that your ‘fat and ugly’ girlfriend is a fucking bitch.”

He looks over, seeming to notice them for the first time. He doesn’t even falter.

“She fucking is,” he says as he pulls his hand from your cunt and outstretches it toward them as if to shake their hands. “Hi.”

They don’t answer. They don’t return the gesture.

“No? Ok.”

He turns back to you and puts his other hand on your neck.

“You put your fucking pussy all over my guitar.” He squeezes a little. “I’m supposed to be doing fucking soundcheck and tuning my strings and shit, and the only thing I can think about is how much my instrument smells like sex with you.”

He leans in to whisper in your ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, little girl.”

To them he says, “Excuse me. I have to go fuck the shit out of my girlfriend now.”

As he’s pulling you down the back hall, you look over your shoulder to wink at Katrina and Molly. Mary follows your gaze.

“Thanks for coming out!” he yells back. “Buy a t-shirt!”

His grip around your wrist is insistent—sure to leave a bruise—as he leads you into the greenroom.

A chorus of “Mary, where were you?” and “Mary, what the fuck” ring out as he maneuvers you through the room. You grimace at them as Mary all but pushes you into the adjacent bathroom. He locks the door behind you and ignores the banging and shouts behind it.

“Come here,” he demands.

You move, but not fast enough to satisfy him, so he grabs your arm to pull you to him. He licks his lips before diving down to assault your mouth. You open readily for him as his tongue shoves its way in. He tastes like his bitter makeup.

“I’ve been on edge for goddamned hours because of you,” he says when he comes up for air. “Our big gig,” he continues as he molds your pliant body stomach down and sideways over the sink, “and I have to spend our entire fucking set smelling your juice on my guitar.”

You giggle and look over your shoulder at him. “You’re welcome.”

He rucks up your dress and gives your ass a swat. You gasp, and he swats you twice more.

“You fucking bitch,” he says, but there’s no heat to it.

He drapes himself over you and mouths at your ear.

“Tell me I can fucking have you,” he snarls as he ruts against you. “Tell me I get to fuck you now.”

You turn your head again, straining to have your lips touch his.

“Fuck me, Goore,” you rasp.

Magic words spoken, he’s spreading your legs wider and ripping another hole in your stockings. You hear him as he fumbles to undo his belt buckle and drag down his zipper—and then he’s pushing into you without preamble. You gasp at the sudden intrusion as he breathes an Oh fuck into your skin. He wraps one arm around your middle and the other he braces against the wall as he begins to pound into you.

You scrabble at the wall for leverage as you squirm to find the right angle. Mary doesn’t let up at all.

“You feel so good. So tight, so wet. Fuck, is this what you wanted? Me half-crazed out of my mind?”

Well yeah, you think, something like. What comes out of your mouth is a long moan, and you squeeze your muscles hard around him.

“Shit, fuck!” he cries out as he almost stutters to stop. You push back into him, your clit throbbing and desperate for pressure.

“You asked for it,” he growls, He grabs the meat of your hips—fingers digging into your love handles—and begins to slam himself into you faster and faster. The new angle is hitting your G-spot deliciously and you cry out,

“Oh fuck, yes Mary—RIGHT THERE DON’T STOP.”

He’s making little grunting noises as he slams into you, and you know you’re going to be pretty sore later—but right now you’re trying desperately to get a hand between your legs so you relieve the heavy pressure pooling between your legs.

He’s wheezing when he says, “I’m gonna—I’m gonna fucking cum. Ughn, take it, bitch.” And then he thrusts into so hard he hits your cervix and you cry out. He’s growling Uhn uhn uhn as he empties into you, thrusts slowing. When he’s done, he drapes over you, kissing behind your ear. The shift stings a little, and you flinch slightly.

“Shit. Did I hurt you?” he asks, as he straightens up and eases his soft cock out of you, petting down your back.

You turn your head so he can hear you. “Maybe a little?” you say. “But I’ll forgive you if you finish me off.”

He complies quickly, sprawling under you so he can lap at you with his tongue while a finger gently enters you and presses at your G-spot. You let out a loud, shaky moan at the sudden dual sensation—you’re still pretty worked up and you see bursts behind your eyes. He works you up to a full precipice—while you clutch against the sink and pant into your arms—until your climax sparks and breaks. You clench around his finger, and your pussy pops against his relentlessly flicking tongue.

He slows down when your body slumps and you start twitching at the feeling of his tongue on your now oversensitive nub; then he wraps himself around one of your legs—stroking your inner thighs—as he waits for you to come down from your orgasmic high. When you do, he stands up and peels you off the sink. After that, the two of you hurriedly clean each other up—there’s a green room full of annoyed people bitching at you through the door, after all.

“Hey,” he says as you allow him to kiss the back of your neck. “I’m in so much shit. I really need to pull my weight with the equipment … but I’ll see you back out there in a bit?

You turn to kiss him; his paint is smeared all to hell, which means it’s probably all over you. Smoothing down your dress, you spin around with arms wide.

“Do I look like I lost a fight with the makeup section of Hot Topic?”

He snorts. “You do, actually,” he says while crowding into you. “But don’t ask me to clean it off. I want everyone to know who fucked you.”

You push him away. “You’re fucking gross, Goore.”

He gives you a vulpine smile. “You adore it.”

(You do.)

You steel yourself to the walk of shame through the greenroom—more than just Mary’s bandmates are in there—putting on a devil-may-care attitude like a cloak. Head held high, you leave the bathroom, smirking at the men particularly like the cat who got creamed. There’s some eye rolling, a few wolf-whistles, and an ironic slow cap. A woman in another group raises her hand up, and you high-five it, before spinning around to curtsey as you leave the room.

When you get back to the bar, the two women are gone and there’s someone in your spot. You make your apologies as you retrieve your stuff, and you order another beer for yourself and a whiskey shot + chaser for Mary, before settling your tab. The next band has been playing for a bit and your beer is half empty by the time Mary and his bandmates materialize again. They’re smiling and talking to the fans who begin to mob them. Mary shakes a few hands and signs a few CDs before making a beeline to you.

“You’re a mess,” he says as you hand him his drinks. He shoots the whiskey immediately, slamming the shot glass down onto the bar.

“Well, someone, got impatient,” you retort.

He leans in close. “Can you blame me? Fuck. What did you do to my guitar. I should be pissed.”

“I did exactly what you think I did. Got hot thinking of you, decided to show my appreciation.”

“Fuck,” he rumbles in your ear. His free hand starts to slip up your thigh again. “Do you wanna—”

He’s interrupted when one of his bandmates comes over.

“Christ, Mary. Leave the poor girl alone for a second. We gotta man the merch table. Amps don’t pay for themselves.”

Mary sighs, his hand slipping from under your dress to around your waist.

“C’mon,” he says as he leads you to their table with his very put upon-looking bandmates. He arranges you on his lap, much to their consternation.

“The girls are our biggest fans, Mary! We need to keep up the fantasy that we’re available!”

“She should be with the other girlfriends!”

“I don’t give a shit,” Mary spits. “This isn’t a fucking K-pop group. They can deal with us having actual lives. If they only like our image, then what’s the point?”

You’d wanted to beg off at first—feeling a little like ornamentation for all to see—but you’re pretty pliant from the beer and the orgasm, so you let Mary keep you where you are. You have a few more shots and lite beer chaser as the night wears on, and you get into joking around with their fans and even one or two of his other band members—your ribald humor fits right in. You’re well into a lengthy discussion with the woman from the greenroom about pockets when Mary taps your arm for your attention.

“We’re gonna pack it in for tonight, Suey.”

“Ok. Do you wanna head back to mine, or … ?

Mary sighs.

“We’re apparently having a ‘band meeting,’ so I might not be able to tonight … but tomorrow?”

You feel a stab of disappointment before pushing it down. “No, I get it. Duty calls.” You lean down to whisper in his ear. “I’m going to go home and touch myself while thinking about you. I want you to think about that later when you’re alone.”

His hand squeezes your thigh hard.

“Can you do that for me? Can you be a good boy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says softly.

The next morning when you wake, you check your phone to find that you have a text from Mary: it’s a blurry picture of his half-hard cock drooling cum. You text him back full of praise.

When you get yourself set up for the day on your laptop, your first order of business is to make a folder entitled “SueysSpankBankFodder” next to Mary’s.

⬅️Previous | Next ➡️

#mary goore #ofc #feral cats fic #gutter punk #gritty girls

50 notes · View notes

izzy-b-hands · 4 years

Text

It Was Only A Kiss

Written for the DL server Bingo Card prompt-Kiss: Still Haven’t.

Poly!Queen because? Just because. Not where I saw this prompt originally going, but most of the time in writing I just sort of hang on for the ride and see where I end up, and here we are! In very NSFW land lol. Easiest way to sum this up is rehearsal gone smutty. Like really, this starts sweet and goes full smut (we circle back to sweet though lol.) Just...fair warning.

Title from Mr. Brightside by the Killers, because it’s what started playing in my head as soon as I realized how smutty and how much longer this ‘quick one shot’ was going to be lmao.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

“How long are you going to wait exactly?” Freddie asked.

“Long as he makes me,” Brian sniffed.

“...Correct me if I’m wrong,” Freddie said slowly. “But he hasn’t yet figured out that you like him in that way. That I know for sure. So how exactly is he making you wait?”

Brian shrugged. “I mean...it isn’t the right time to talk about it yet.”

Roger was across the room, chatting with John about something, his hands gesturing wildly, the sandwich in one hand seeming like it might go flying.

“Why not now?”

“He’s eating,” Brian said in a rush. “I can’t interrupt him.”

Freddie dropped his head into his hands. “Brian.”

“Freddie?”

“Please, just go kiss him. Just do it now.”

Brian looked shocked. “I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Would be rude!”

Freddie looked skyward. “And they say I’m a useless gay, with how long I take to flirt. Well, this one is in the running with me!”

“I am not useless!” Brian said. “I’m...”

“You’re afraid he doesn’t reciprocate,” Freddie said. “Look. I know I wasn’t going to interfere too much in all this.”

“Did you ever actually say that?”

“To myself, at one point, but I’m in this, so forget it,” Freddie said. “Without divulging all his personal business at home...let’s just say I know for sure he does. Reciprocate what you feel. And it would really make my nights quieter if you would do something about it today.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “...quiet nights?”

“I’m not giving you details of what he gets up to when he’s alone,” Freddie said.

“I think you did with saying that.”

“I...” Freddie stammered. “Well. Fuck. Will you go do something about this now? If I have to hear him moaning your name one more fucking time, I’m going to lose it...”

Brian blushed redder than the Red Special in his lap. “Every night?”

“Not every night, but often enough,” Freddie said with a roll of his eyes.

“And you’ve never done the same,” Brian teased. “With some other guy, I’m sure.”

It was Freddie’s turn to blush. “That is...neither here nor there. You’re interested in Roger, so go and get him. He’s literally ten steps away, not even. You have long legs; you’ll be over to him in no time.”

“I could be shared,” Brian said softly. “If Roger would allow.”

Freddie tried and failed to bite back a smile. “You haven’t even kissed him yet. Focus on that, and we’ll see about anything else.”

“Okay,” Brian said, and swallowed hard as he set the Red Special on its stand. “I will.”

“Good, then go!”

“I will, and I am!”

“All you’ve done is stood up!”

“I’m working on it!”

“What in the fuck is going on with you two?” Roger interrupted, through a mouthful of sandwich. “Are you alright?”

Brian stepped over to Roger, and stood impatiently in front of him. “Can you finish chewing and swallow that, please?”

Roger frowned, obviously confused. “That’s the idea, yeah.”

“I know, but,” Brian fussed. “Now. Quickly, before I lose my nerve.”

Across the room, Freddie squeaked, a hand over the smile on his face.

Roger smirked, but swallowed. “Okay. I’ve proven to you I remember how to eat. What is it you need now?”

Brian leaned down and kissed him, quickly, but hard.

Roger looked dumbfounded, then grinned. “Took you long enough.”

Brian nodded, then darted back over to Freddie. “Since I’ve got the confidence...”

The kiss was just as hard, but lingered for a moment as Freddie kissed back.

“He’s right,” Freddie said softly. “Took you long enough.”

“Think I should be the one saying that,” John piped up. “Fucking christ, I was about ready to yell at you myself. Do you know how frustrating it is watching you all make eyes at each other, and do fuck-all about it?”

“Very frustrating?” Brian asked.

John nodded. “Now we can get back to work, and you can go home with those two like you should have been doing for months already.”

“I don’t know about months-” Brian scoffed.

“You are the worst liar,” John said. “You’ve liked Rog since you met him, and same with Freddie. I know it.”

“Well,” Brian “As friends at first. Took about a month before some...other thoughts, came into my head.”

“Mhm, came indeed,” Roger smirked, laughing at Brian’s despairing look. “Don’t be like that. Tell me you aren’t thinking about tonight, hm?”

“I am,” Freddie murmured.

Brian blushed, and nodded. “Maybe I am. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would,” Roger said, and set the now-forgotten sandwich down on the equipment crate near him. “Why don’t we take a moment out in the hall and you let me know?”

“No,” Freddie said quickly, and they frowned.

“There’s another band recording tonight, you’ll just get caught,” Freddie said sharply. “Use the closet in the room, John and I will busy ourselves until it’s my turn with each of you.”

“You could come with us now,” Roger said.

“I could,” Freddie nodded. “But I want to save that for tonight. In the meantime...I have ideas for what I can do with each of you in the closet.”

John smirked and shook his head. “I’ll play loudly for the rest of rehearsal, how does that sound?”

“Probably a good idea,” Brian admitted, his face still a wonderful shade of pink. “I swear, this won’t happen every rehearsal.”

“I know,” John said. “Get it out of your system tonight; we can be more productive later this week.”

Freddie watched as the other two nearly skipped off to the closet, then turned to John, moving his chair closer to him. “So. Are we going to talk about you making eyes at the rest of us too, or is that being saved for a different night?”

John didn’t look up from his bass as he plucked at its strings. “I didn’t think I was the type for any of you. And I’m just...considering it. I know I love Ronnie, but you all-”

“Does she know?” Freddie asked softly.

John nodded. “Gave me her blessing tonight to do what I’d like, so long as it’s only with you three.”

“Okay. Do you want to do anything? You don’t have to, and there’s no pressure, but if you want-”

The bass was out of his hands and on its stand before Freddie could more than blink, and John was in his lap.

“Okay,” he laughed. “That’s a yes?”

John nodded, and looked nervously to the door.

“It’s locked,” Freddie said. “And you get to lead.”

---

“Fucking zipper,” Roger sighed. “Should just let you rip these off of me.”

“I’m not destroying your clothes,” Brian said. “Besides, how much can we really get up to in here?”

Roger gave him a look. “Is that a challenge?”

Brian shrugged, and smirked. “Maybe.”

He had an armful of Roger then, with lips at his neck and hands working at his zipper.

“I think you’ve won it already!”

Roger paused, and lifted his head up from where he was focused on leaving marks on Brian’s neck. “Shall I stop then?”

Brian frowned, and Roger grinned before resuming his kisses.

“Awful loud out there,” Brian remarked as he bit back a moan at Roger’s leg moving up to brush against his cock.

“They said they’d be loud for our sake,” Roger said breathlessly.

“Right, but with instruments,” Brian replied. “That...I know what a bass sounds like. I know what it sounds like to hear Freddie sing. He’s...well. That’s not singing.”

“They don’t sound in distress,” Roger murmured, whimpering at the feeling of Brian’s fingers ghosting underneath the tight waistband of his jeans. “Let them be.”

---

“Where on earth did you learn all of this?” Freddie smiled. They’d ended up on the floor (the chair was less stable than it looked) but it hadn’t halted anything. They were half undressed, shirts tossed aside and trousers unbuttoned and unzipped.

“This can’t be anything out of the world,” John said, his hand still working Freddie’s cock even as the kissing paused.

“Enthusiasm can be a great portion of skill,” Freddie sighed happily. “Am I being too loud?”

“Not for me,” John said. “I like loud.”

Freddie smiled. “But will anyone passing by in the hall?”

John shrugged. “Let them be jealous.”

Freddie kissed him deeply, and pulled him by the hip as close as he could. “Might need to be louder then.”

“I can help with that,” John said, his voice husky as his fingers moved to push down Freddie’s underwear and trousers.

The only reply he got was a very happy moan.

---

There wasn’t much in the way of words anymore, at least not much beyond each other’s names and soft murmurs. Most of their clothing had made its way to the floor, and if not for the lack of lube and condoms, more would have been going on.

Even so, what was happening was perfectly good as well.

“I think I fucking love you,” Roger whined, biting at Brian’s lip, rutting his hard cock up against Brian’s. “I know I love fucking you, for sure.”

“You’re a poet,” Brian smirked, and gave Roger’s ass a gentle slap. “But I wonder what else that mouth can do.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Roger teased, and dropped to his knees before Brian could grab his hips. He stuck his tongue out obscenely, and Brian sighed.

“That is...I wonder if Freddie would paint that, if we asked. He should. Absolutely gorgeous.”

“Show me how much you like it,” Roger hissed, and took Brian’s cock onto his tongue, eyes wide as he looked up at him.

They closed as Brian’s hand grasped the back of his hair at the scalp, and his cock slid down his throat ever so slowly.

“If this is what you’re willing to do in here,” Brian breathed softly. “What on earth do you have planned for later tonight?”

Roger opened his eyes only to quickly wink.

Brian slid his cock back out, then back in quickly, wincing as Roger gagged lightly. “Sorry. I’ll be more careful.”

Roger let Brian’s cock slip out of his mouth. “No. I like it. Not too deep, but like you just did...keep that up.”

He could feel Brian’s thighs shake as he rested a hand on one, and he grinned. “Now, where were we...”

---

“Don’t fucking stop,” John whined. “Fuck me.”

“I would if we had more room,” Freddie muttered in between kisses to John’s chest, his hand busy at John’s cock. The small bottle of lube from his pocket was just beside them on the floor. “Come back to mine and Roger’s tonight with Brian, and we can.”

“I’d like that,” John murmured, then gasped and dropped his head to Freddie’s shoulder, his cock throbbing as he came. “Sorry.”

“Don’t you dare be sorry,” Freddie said. “We can clean up.”

He scooted down to John’s thighs as John rolled from his side to his back, and licked at the streaks of cum.

“Fucking hell,” John sighed.

“I’d like to think it’s more like heaven,” Freddie grinned.

“Will be in a moment,” John said. “Get back in the chair.”

Freddie raised a brow, but did as instructed. “I could get used to that. What else are you going to order me to do?”

“I’ve seen how loud you can be,” John said. “For the studio, at least. But what about quiet?”

He dropped to his knees in front of Freddie. “Mind, I’ve never done this before, so be kind, but-”

“You’re going to do fine,” Freddie said, a hand running through John’s hair. “Don’t know that I’ll last that long anyway, with you like this.”

He moaned at the sensation of John’s tongue on his cock, echoing the moaning coming from the closet.

---

It was a wordless groan as Brian came, thighs shaking, his legs much weaker than he wanted them to be.

But it was hard to help, with his cock down Roger’s throat, pulsing against his tongue, which lapped ever so gently against him as Roger swallowed it all.

“...how long have you been able to do that?”

Roger let Brian’s cock fall from his mouth, and wiped at his mouth. “Dunno. Never really tried that till tonight, honestly. Just know I’ve always liked the idea of sucking cock, and now I know that I really, really like it. Especially like that.”

“Let me,” Brian said, and tried to get to his knees, legs still quaking.

“No,” Roger laughed. “You’ll fall. Besides, I want your hands instead.”

Brian smirked. “That’s why you watch me play so closely during rehearsal then.”

“Something like that,” Roger smiled. “Now are you going to show me what they can do, or what?”

“We don’t have anything for that though,” Brian said.

Roger winced. “Hang on, I know someone who does.”

---

He ducked out of the closet, cock half-tucked as best he could manage it into the side of his jeans, then stopped dead.

John had Freddie’s cock down his throat, eyes shut, moaning around it. Freddie was in a similar state, leaned back in the chair, eyes fluttering as his hips jerked up to meet John’s mouth.

“Fuck,” Brian whispered as he came up behind Roger, hand reaching to rub at Roger’s cock through his jeans. “We’re all going back to yours and Freddie’s then, aren’t we?”

“Better be,” Roger murmured, gasping and fighting the urge to buck his hips and cock into Brian’s hand.

In the chair, Freddie was losing control of himself, a hand balled up in John’s hair, hips moving erratically. John for his part, seemed unbothered by it, utterly in his newly discovered element.

Roger whimpered as Brian’s other hand pulled him close, and he could feel Brian was half-hard again at the scene in front of them.

“Come right as he does, and I’ll let you fuck me into the mattress when we get home,” Brian whispered, warm in his ear.

It was a blessing that Freddie came a moment later, with a strangled moan, because Brian’s voice set Roger off completely. There was no time to get his cock out of his jeans again, and he resigned himself to the mess as he leaned back against Brian, grinding his ass against his cock.

As he came back down, Freddie looked over to them, and laughed. “Should we head home?”

John pressed a few more kisses to his thighs. “Please. I want to see if I can do better at that.”

“Better?” Roger scoffed. “Then what do you call what you were just doing?”

“A decent first try?” John shrugged with a smile.

“Bless you,” Freddie sighed. “You have...a natural talent for that, I think.”

“Only fair to share with us,” Brian said. “Shall we plan to not practice till later tomorrow?”

“I don’t plan on sleeping when we get home,” Roger said. “So I think that’s for the best.”

It was a rush then to clean up, put everything away, and get outside. The only time they slowed was to ensure the Red Special and John’s bass were safely ready in their cases before heading out into the night.

“Thank god it’s dark,” Roger giggled as they walked. “Jacket isn’t long enough to cover the damned spot on my jeans.”

“Good,” Freddie teased. “I like seeing it.”

“Daring,” John said. “Hot, the idea that someone could see you out here like that-”

“Wondering which one of us caused it,” Brian interjected with a proud grin.

“Technically, it was both of us,” Freddie said.

“Bet we can cause another at home,” Brian said, and slipped his arm around Roger’s hips to squeeze him close for a moment.

“You wish,” Roger laughed. “All of this is coming off as soon as we get in the door.”

“Even better,” John said, and they all laughed at that.

It was just safe enough, in the dark of the late night, to be at ease and close, letting hands touch briefly, thighs bumping against each other every now and again.

A reminder that this was just another layer to it all, another level of closeness and love, and it was wonderfully, uniquely, theirs.

#text post #LeeH writes #Queen band fic

2 notes · View notes

prismarine-parrots · 5 years

Text

Tree of Life Pt.5 (1)

Originally posted: 20 Mar. 2019

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Part 3.5

Part 4

Part 5 (2)

"What is Doc doing again?" Mumbo asked out loud. His phone had been vibrating in his trouser pockets consistently for the past two minutes, most of the messages being from Doc, who had been doing something or another.

"Setting up a beacon on the roof so that there's regen up there for when we try to heal Grian. Most of the other trees have beacons around them and Ren went to go make sure those had regen on them too." Jevin replied, not taking his eyes off the brewing potions.

"He sure is chatty then," Mumbo grumbled and slipped his phone out of his pocket.

<DocM77> Guys, there's phantoms up here

<Rendog> you got it man? I'm too far to help

<DocM77> yeah I think I'm good

<Iskall85> tell me and I'll head back to help

<joehillssays> don't lead them into the base! We don't need any more catastrophes to plague our misfortune

<DocM77> ok maybe I don't got it

<DocM77> he

DocM77 was slain by phantom

DocM77 died.

Mumbo stared at the message on the screen.

"Doc is gone too," he said blankly.

Jevin looked over from setting up the next brewing stand. "No way!"

"Phantom got him," Mumbo informed. Jevin's shocked expression hardened and he silently glared at the potions with a misplaced fury.

There was a disparaging silence throughout the base as this fact set in.

Mumbo sighed wearily and looked out at the night sky over the ocean around Grian's base. He had stayed behind after the first deaths, both of which happened within the first twenty-four of Grian's. TFC has been in his bunker when he died, so no one had thought that he might have been in trouble until the death message appeared on their phones. Jevin had come in panicked halfway through a serverwide meeting saying that he was late because Wels had fallen ill and wasn't waking up, and just as soon as they got back to the medieval/industrial district border, their phones went off. False hadn't seemed to have been affected at first, but as the hermits were gathering supplies to go on a journey to look for a cure she had fallen to the ground, dropped dead. After that the remaining hermits had left across the ocean and Mumbo had been left to watch over the others. It had been depressing, watching his phone, because at any moment there could have been another death message meaning that they had lost another hermit. Zedaph and xbCrafted, who had joined the server randomly, both died as well. When this finally happened with Scar, Mumbo had been crushed, because then all the optimists were gone and it seemed like a hopeless mission. Soon after, Cub returned to Mumbo's base and the redstoner had been attempting to comfort him as well as keep and eye on everything else going on while the rest of the server was away. There were death messages for Tango and Python, and while that had been the last of it, Xisuma was now ill after Evil X (WHY did they decide to work with that guy?) died and the glitch started working on him as well.

Now the travelers had returned and they were all waiting around Grian's base, as it had the most space and was closest to the center of the server AKA the shopping district. They were occupying the upper floors of the wedding cake, as no one could bring themselves to disturb Grian's pale and still body on his bed among the shulker boxes, laid to rest there until they figured out if they could heal him or not and then bury him properly.

The strange bubbling noise from the first brewing stand stopped.

Mumbo and Jevin, the two operating the potions, looked to each other then to the brewing stands.

"They're done!"

"They're done?"

Jevin nearly bounced to the stands and took one of each of the two types of potion in his hands. A potion of harming, and a splash potion of regeneration. The other stands taken from Cub's war store were still bubbling away, but the one set was all they needed for now. The slime man slowly slowly turned with a soft smile and the first hopeful look Mumbo had seen in a while.

"We need to try this ASAP."

Mumbo nodded firmly. "Grian. I'll get the others." He jumped through the hole in the floor to the layer below. "We have something!"

"Have you tried it yet?!" Xisuma immediately demanded. He was slouching against one of the three pillars, helmet off and his skin was clammy and pale, but he was still alert and concerned.

"X, save your strength!" Joe scolded. X rolled his eyes and pushed against the wall, groaning but still able to move.

Mumbo helped X stand up and allowed him to lean on him and they made their way over to the water elevator as Joe called to the others on the other floors and flew up to the aviary as well.

Everyone was gathered around the tree.

"I think Grian's looks the worst of all the ones that I've seen..." Ren sighed worriedly. He had been flying around the server, checking on everyone's trees. He had returned just before Mumbo and Jevin has finished the potions with his report: that most the trees were at various stages of decay. It was only a matter of time before everyone on the server faced this same fate as well. What he found strange though, is that some of the trees of the dead hermits were healthier than some of the living. Zedaph's tree was healthier than Xisuma's, but X was still alive while Zed was not.

Joe was looking spooked. "I can't believe Doc got taken right at the resolution..." he murmured. "What a tragedy this has become, a massacre with no murderer, a-"

Ren huffed. "Joe. Now isn't the time for poetry. Do I look worried? No! When this works on Grian I'm going to go straight to Doc's base and fix him up as well. Everything will be a-okay."

Joe didn't look quite convinced, but stayed silent. There was an awkward moment of quiet as the survivors looked to one another, unsure of what to do next.

"Do we just try it?" Impulse asked.

Cleo shrugged. "I guess so."

Jevin kneeled down next to the decayed red maple and uncorked the potion or harming. The process they were using was basically the same as purifying a zombie villager- use something to weaken the tree, then something to heal it. Instead of a golden apple they were using the healing effect of a beacon and the most powerful regeneration potion they could make.

"I hope this works..." Stress murmured with Iskall nodding beside her.

There was a painful hiss as the harming potion hit the roots of the tree. The entire tree immediately shriveled, although there wasn't much left of it as it was. A few more discolored leaves fell off the barren branches.

Jevin backed up and handed the healing potion to Mumbo.

"I think you should," the slime man explained. Mumbo looked down at the potion before nodding.

"Alright then," the man in the suit uncorked the frail bottle and prepared to throw it. Mumbo looked determined at his target, but paused.

What is this doesn't work? What if it's too late for Grian? What will happen then? What will happen to the others?

"Mumbo, you alright?" Joe asked. Mumbo shook his head.

"Yeah, just... never mind."

The mustached man threw the potion and backed up, not wanting to take any of the effects of the potion. The potion shattered against the truck of the tree, dark pink liquid splattering into the crevices in the bark and the particles erupting from all over. They mixed with the dark red particles and quickly changed to a black, which made the gathered hermits panic, before they changed to a brilliant gold.

Just like that, life returned to Grian's tree. The hermits watched in fascination as brilliant red leaves bloomed from nothing on the branches and the peeling bark healed. The large branches that had fallen off started to regrow, although they also had the rings of scarring that trees had when a limb was cut off. The dead materials still littered the ground, but with joyous relief the humans' forms relaxed at the magic worked.

Where's Grian? Mumbo thought to himself in concern. This is for nothing if Grian isn't back. Please, let him be okay, I just want my friend...

At sea level, someone lurched into a sitting position from their bed and heaved in huge, panicked gasps of air. It felt as if he had been drowning, yet he last remembered nothing of the sort.

In fact, what he last remembered concerned him greatly.

What HAPPENED?!

Without hesitation he leapt onto his bed and bounced slightly, just enough air to launch a firework and shoot through the layers of his base.

"Grian?" Impulse was the first to say the name everyone had been thinking.

"His tree is revived, he should be too," Ren said uncertainly, "and so should every one else. They have to."

Please, please... Mumbo pleaded in his mind. If there is SOME power out there that has caused this, please let it stop. Let Grian and everyone else be alright.

Silence.

A quiet whisper.

Fireworks?

A blur zoomed past through the hole in the roof before disappearing for a moment and diving back down.

Mumbo held his breath, knowing who it was, but still scared that his eyes might be deceiving him.

"Guys! I'm here, what happened?! I remember being sick and then my tree was sick and then you guys- well, some of you- were there and then-"

"GRIAN!" Iskall and Mumbo yelled at the same time and the Swede hugged the builder. Grian laughed and returned the hug and quickly clasped Mumbo on the back.

"I'm here, but can SOMEONE explain to me what happened?? I'm very confused," he announced.

Ren was whooping and Jevin and Xisuma both looked relieved. Cleo hugged Grian as well and Joe was jumping around him, reciting fancy words excitedly so that while no one understood what he was saying, the emotion got across.

"Grian!"

Impulse marched over and punched the builder in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Grian yelped, now gripping his shoulder and glaring at Impulse. "What was that for?"

"One, for pulling this on us. Two, to make sure you were alive. And three-"

"Why wouldn't I be alive? I'm standing right here!"

Impulse clapped Grian on the back with a smile. "Glad to see you alright, man."

"Explain to me please?!"

"I'll explain," Mumbo offered, now smiling from ear to ear, "the rest of us, go grab some potions!"

"Already gone! See you on the other side!" Ren yelled joyfully and dived into Grian's base before shooting up only a few seconds later. The rest of the hermits weren't far behind him, rushing to grab the medicine to help their friends.

"Mumbo, what about Cub?" Iskall asked as he was heading out.

Mumbo gasped. "Right! I'll help him. He's going to be so relieved!"

"What's up with Cub? And Scar? They do everything together?"

"I'll explain on the way, Grian. We're heading to the Country Club."

"We going to go play golf?"

"Nah, I'm heading with the girls to go get False," Iskall informed the other two Architechs, "good luck with Cub! I hope he'll be alright when Scar is back!"

Grian gave Mumbo the most befuddled and mildly concerned look.

#hermitcraft #grian #joehills #mumbo jumbo #xisumavoid #ijevin #cubfan135 #renthedog #docm77 #iskall85 #zombiecleo #stressmonster #impulsesv #tree of life au #ToL #finale part 1 #becca writes

39 notes · View notes

nancywheelxr · 6 years

Note

Lena being curious about Brainy? (who he really is, how he functions as a techno-organic being, what his powers are/how they work, because I feel like she'd be interested in all of that.)

Look, I’ll start this off by saying you are the absolute best and I’m sorry, but this is an absolute cop-out of actually explaining anything about Brainy because all I know about his background are the basics and the lousy explanation on JL No Justice arc. That being said, Lena would totally have a billion questions about him and the future if she ever knew about that.

Lena is curious.

She can’t help it, really. She’s a scientist at heart, she will always be naturally drawn towards asking questions and seeking answers.

And the more she knows Brainy, the more fascinated she is.

It’s not that she wants to study him, dear god, no, it’s just that everytime they interact, she learns something new about him and his abilities and it’s all utterly brilliant. She wants to know because there is so much to learn– she can’t help it.

So it keeps happening.

They’re working on something to break through a particularly tricky force field, and so far all they agree on is that it’s definitely technological, if Maxwell Lord’s company logo being branded in one of the devices is anything to go by, and maybe deriving from some sort of changing frequency. It’s a theory, alright.

And without knowing precisely what they’re working with, there’s little they can do to counteract it, so Lena can’t see a lot of ways around it right now.

“Perhaps,” Brainy interrupts her thoughts, sitting in front of the computer beside her, a look of determined concentration on his face, “there might be a way. I’ll run a search on Lord’s old company files, there could still be something left.”

“Search his personal files as well,” she suggests. She knows enough about Lord and his obsessions to know he would not keep something like this on anything but his own servers. Which will most likely be under heavy cryptography.

Unbelievable. That narcissistic sociopath keeps making their lives more difficult, even after he’s gone.

“Done,” Brainy exclaims, sitting up on his chair with a victorious glint on his eyes, “you were right, I found this on his personal computer.”

He pulls up a set of specs on the screen, detailing a device that looks a lot like the force-field generator they’re dealing with. And it is working out of a frequency modulator– Lena allows herself a minute of satisfaction. “This is great news, now all we need is build something to neutralize the modulator.” Then, because layers of cryptography cannot possibly be breached in such a short time period, she asks, “but I have to ask, how did you do it so fast?”

Before any answer could be given, Supergirl’s voice rings through the comms, ragged and out of breath, ��guys? I hate to rush you, but,” something explodes on the background, “we’re kinda running out of time out here– Alex! Stay out of– I gotta go– hey, that tree never did anything to you, you–”

The line disconnects, and they get to work.

Supergirl is in a coma again.

It seems to happen more often than Lena thought possible for a seemingly invincible Kryptonian.

At the very least, she is stable this time, out of any immediate danger– for all intents and purposes, she is merely asleep.

Whatever poison is coursing through her veins, it looks like it was made to neutralize her, not kill her. And isn’t that a testament of how low the bar is for good news that not dying, only in a coma is considered one?

Either way, her eyes are beginning to hurt from looking through the microscope for so long and her back has long since gone numb, when Brainy bursts through the doors, a cloud of nanites trailing after him, “I have isolated the poison’s compounds!” The nanites titter, and he shushes them, amending, “I apologize, the nanites have isolated the poison’s compounds.”

“Did they just talk to you?” Lena knows there are more important things to worry about, but the question slips before she realizes. Last time they worked with the nanites, did he mean it literally when he said he asked them to eat the Kryptonite? She shakes her head, “nevermind. Good job, let’s get to work. It’s about time Sleeping Beauty wakes up.”

“It’s ready!” Lena shouts over the ongoing fight. It’s very stressful to calibrate a machine not previously intended to do so to send an EMP on a very specific wavelength, but at this point, Lena is used to stressful situations. God knows this isn’t the first time she’s needed to do something very delicate under heavy fire. “Supergirl?”

“Hold on,” she shouts back, before flying up after today’s villain. They’re too high up, out of the pulse’s reach unless someone else flies after them. Lena supposes she does own a jet, she could–

“I shall take this close enough to them,” Brainy is suddenly there beside her, the henchmen he had been forced to fight off unconscious on the floor. “Stay out of sight and you will be safe, Agent Danvers is almost here.”

And then the device is out of her hands and Brainy is off, flying up after Supergirl and their villain.

“He can fly too?” Lena asks the empty room. Sadly, dead men tell no tale, and neither do the knocked out ones.

It’s easy to forget that Lena Luthor is the CEO of L-Corp, or so it would seem if the number of times either Alex or Supergirl have called her to the DEO, expecting her to immediately drop whatever it is she is doing, is anything to go by.

This time, however, it is not Alex or Supergirl that walk into her office. It’s not Kara either, the more pleasing kind of interruption. It’s Brainy that marches in through the doors, Jess mid-complaint behind him. Lena waves her off apologetically, before smiling, “hi, Brainy, it’s been a while.”

“Hello, Lena,” he greets her, choosing to stay standing instead of taking the offered chair, “I will not take long. I’ve noticed you have questions about me, but due to circumstances I have not been able to answer them yet.”

She’s not sure if she should be ashamed, or if she’s offended him somehow with her inquiries, but Lena still feels like a child caught with her hand on the cookie jar. “I apologize if I ever made you uncomfortable,” she tells him honestly, “I assure you, I only ask out of harmless curiosity.”

“Oh, I know, do not worry,” Brainy smiles, hands clasped behind his back, “and I would have replied had we not been otherwise distracted. Which is why I’m here today. There is no immediate threat as of now and I calculate the odds are low on the situation changing in the near future, so would you like to have coffee? You can ask your question and I will answer them as best as I can, and in return, I would only request the caffeine.”

Her eyebrows raise, “you want coffee as payment?”

“Alex has prohibited me to bring any more caffeine-based substances to the DEO for at least twenty-four hours. She says she will not drive me to the hospital if I need to get my stomach pumped and would not change her mind, even after I explained it is impossible for me to overdose on coffee.”

Somehow, Lena doubts that is a certified fact, but then again, she supposes she might add it to her list of questions. “Make it a latte and we have a deal.”

“Very well,” he offers his hand for her to shake, “shall we go?”

Lena Luthor is the CEO of L-Corp, but if forced to choose between paperwork and a chance to sate her curiosity, she will always be reliable to invariably choose the latter, especially when enabled by a friend.

“Lead the way.”

#look an ask #lena luthor #brainy #querl dox #brainiac 5 #supergirl fic #the science duo also has my heart #also this is late and im sorry #brainy and lena brotp

16 notes · View notes

obscurewatch · 6 years

Text

The Ilios Butterflies

Even with your graphic settings on low, Overwatch is a great looking game. But there are some fine details that won’t show up unless you’re on high settings. For example, something magical happens if you have your “effects” setting on medium at least.

“Hey guys did you know there are tiny butterflies flying around the flowers of Ilios Well?”

That’s something I must have said hundreds of times at the start of the game, in match chat (the orange text chat both teams see) whenever the game sends me to Ilios Well. It is thanks to the Ilios butterflies that I fell in love with all those obscure details in Overwatch. I noticed them a year and a half ago and haven’t stopped loving them since.

They’re pretty cute. They don’t do much. They just fly around flowers. Not all the flowers mind you, only select spots, for some reason I haven’t yet figured out.

Click here for an imgur ALBUM of ALL the spots where you can see them on Ilios.

and

Click here for a short video of the PINK butterflies

and

Click here for a short video of the YELLOW butterflies

Now the wonderful thing about those butterflies isn’t how cute and tiny and amazing they are. No, it’s that they’re an easter egg !

Quite a nerdy one too.

Turns out they’re not a made up custom model loosely based on what a butterfly is supposed to look like but they’re exact copies of a real life species called papilio ulysses.

Papilio ulysses is huge with its wingspan of 14cm (some of its sub-species are smaller and other bigger) and the males have the upper side of their wings (the part that’s on their backs) a bright blue and the lower side brown whereas females have both sides brown.

So you can only see the bright blue wings when a male is flying, when he’s resting or feeding, his wings are “closed” and you only see the brown part.

The Ilios Butterflies, yellow and pink and in the middle : papilio ulysses

(needs more JPEG)

So yeah this is clearly a 100% match.

Papilio ulysses, that’s the easter egg. Ulysses is the roman name of Odysseus, the hero of the ancient greek epic poem by Homer, the Odyssey.

Long story short, in the Odyssey the greek army is at war with city of Troy and they manage to capture Troy using the stratagem of the Trojan Horse , which was Ulysses/Odysseus’ idea. Also, Ulysses/Odysseus was the human champion of the goddess of wisdom Athena at that time (she likes having human champions that she helps as long as they remain virtuous) and Overwatch’s Athena seems particularly worried about what is happening in Ilios, Ilios being the only map (the other two being Nepal and Lijiang Tower) where she lets players know a bit about why they’re here. On Ilios, we’re here because of Talon activity in the area, Athena thinks they’re after the recently unearthed artifacts (the statues of Athena, Hera and Aphrodite).

Now what’s the link between the Trojan Horse and Ilios? Well, another name for the city of Troy back then was Ilios.

*mindblown gif*

The Ilios butterflies, modeled after a species with bright blue wings (aka, the anti camouflage color), are the same color as the plants they fly around, making them really hard to notice (they’ve been around since launch, I’ve checked old footage, but no almost no one knows about them). Almost like they’re camouflaged, waiting for the right time to strike, like the soldiers inside the Trojan Horse of old, ready to take the city of Troy. Which has me thinking the future greek hero of Overwatch could have some kind of camouflage ability, nothing like Sombra’s, more like actual camouflage that only works as long as you’re static even if you’re hiding in plain sight, Trojan Horse style. Idk, this is wild speculation.

There are pink, yellow and red flowers on Ilios, but only pink and yellow butterflies, no red butterflies for some reason.

Ilios is based on the greek island of Santorini and the pink flowers we see everywhere on the maps are very likely based on the real species bougainvillea which is found everywhere on Santorini. However bougainvillea is not native to the island, it comes from the rainforests of South America, Santorini being an arid volcanic island with 90% of its flora being dry bushes. Papilio ulysses isn’t native to Santorini either, it comes from the rainforests of Australia, Indonesia and other nearby tropical islands, it wouldn’t survive in the arid climate of Santorini (almost no native flowers on the island and way too dry anyway).

I think the developers picked this species solely for the easter egg, unless it’s a clue about the state of climate change in the world of Overwatch, allowing tropical butterfly species to survive in the dry mediterranean climate. Who knows...

Phew that was a lot of links to click on, I hope you’re not too mad about that :3

I hope you clicked on the first three links, they’re kind of important, if you haven’t, go do it now :D

That’s all I have on the Ilios Butterflies, I hope you liked it and will spread the word about them (and remember that you need to put the graphic setting called “effects” on medium at least, they don’t appear at all on low) !

They’re cute, they deserve to be noticed :D

If you’re open minded and if you enjoy wasting time hunting for the many obscure things the devs have put in the world of Overwatch, I have an all new discord server :D

https://discord.gg/Eg8pZdn

#overwatch #ilios #butterflies butterfly #easter-egg #greek mythology #ulysses #odysseus #odyssey #trojan horse #troy

20 notes · View notes

wannawrite · 7 years

Text

If Voices Could Kill...

Wanna One's Kim Jaehwan

The 'Our Two Lips' flower boys LDH PJH PWJ wanna one masterlist produce 101 masterlist

fluff word count: 2342 • Jaehwan is really excited about his new job • especially when he finds out you're the niece of the branch manager • but his efforts may be washed by his new flower boy persona jfosjskdjs i'm sorry i had to do you so dirty Jaehwan you know I love you 😘 I love Jaewhan and he kinda is a mess bUt THERE'S SO MUCH MORE TO HIM THAN THAT I LOVE HIM SO MUCH thank you for requesting anon, youngmin's flower boy will be up soon!! - Admin L PS: this is such a mess i am so sorry, experimenting with my writing a bit, I want to improve but ofusodjsis idk

"Kim Jaehwan?" You mused in puzzlement, an amused smirk dancing on your lips. "Uncle, are you serious?" You had to stifle your laughs from pouring out of your mouth. Your hands smoothed the paper out, eyes scanning the paper and taking a good look at the man's application. Your uncle furrowed his brow, he neatened another stack of applications. "Why not? He seems like a hard worker and a good kid. Not to mention he's young and... goes to the same college as you. Have you seen him before?"

You groaned in frustration and buried your head in your hands, allowing the paper to float away. "That's the thing," you muttered. "You probably should never see him." The air conditioner was set to one of the coldest settings but that was not the cause shivers than ran down your spine. Just the mere thought of Kim Jaehwan working as a waiter or barista - let alone a flower boy - made you shudder in the worst way possible. You held nothing against Jaehwan and in fact, you shared a class with him. He was a good-hearted person, always offering to help and a smart student. The thing is, he did more damage than help..... "Why? Is something wrong?" Your uncle asked again, chuckling. "Do you like him?" You threw your hands up, eyes widening significantly. "What? No! Uncle, why-why would you ever think that?" You protested, shooting him a disbelieving look. I came here today to help you sort out the papers of applications, not to be attacked. You spun a few rounds in the cushy office chair, sighing and considered slamming your head - or your uncle's head - onto the wooden conference table to knock some sense into it. "If you don't explain the situation to me, I have no reason not to hire Jaewhan. He is very handsome, what a bonus. Aren't you glad Aunt is making you help out a bit?" He teased, eyes twinkling. "You could really use a boyfriend, Y/N." I regret agreeing to help out with this stupid thing. Who is their boss? I just want to talk. If Uncle is one of the upper-class board members- "Ahhh, I get it. You like Kim Jaehwan and you don't want him to act nice to anyone else." Your fist hit the table the second you heard that, the slam was hard enough for the piles of documents to fly but your uncle only laughed. You blushed furiously and opened your mouth to retaliate but no words could be formed. Yanking the cap off the pen, you scribbled a rough tick mark next on Jaehwan's application. "Happy?" You growled out, face still hot. "Very. All I did was ask you to explain but you got so angry Jaewhan now has a job." Realisation set in and you let out a gasp. You had ruined the damn company running these stupid cafes and your aunt and uncle had pretty much lost their jobs. "No no no no no no no." In one swift movement, your uncle bundled the documents and packed them away into a cupboard. He grabbed his coat and gestured for you to follow. "C'mon. Your aunt is waiting for us. Cheer up, you didn't do anything wrong. I'll let you sob with ice cream later," he said, a smile on his face. I suppose seeing Kim Jaehwan almost every day this Summer wouldn't be terrible. The thought floated in your mind. He is really good looking. Let's hope he doesn't screw up.

Jaewhan was bursting with joy when he received the email about his new job. Well, partially because his best friends, Daehwi, Woojin, Jihoon, Sungwoon, Ong and Baejin, pretty much his entire clique had also been hired to work at Our Two Lips. Unfortunately, Minhyun, Youngmin and Justin ( wink wonk hint hint ) were posted to another branch further away but within walking distance. He raced to call his friends about the good news. Jihoon was the first to answer this call. "Jihoon!" He yelled, unable to hide his enthusiasm. "Uh, yes, hyung? Are you okay?" Jihoon asked worriedly. If he pressed his phone really close to his ear, he could hear the footsteps of Jaewhan running. "What's happening?" Jaewhan puffed and panted, clearly out of breath. Damn, I really need to work out more. Another day. "I'm fine!" He yelled as he pushed himself to run faster. "I will be outside your house in a few!" Jihoon jumped in shock, he clutched the phone tighter. "Wha-" "See you!" Jihoon glanced at the tall, Taiwanese boy who lounged on the bean bag of his room. "Uh, Jaewhan hyung coming over. What do you think he wants to tell us?" Jihoon wracked his brains but could not think of anything. Perhaps he wrote the lyrics to a new song? No, he would go to Daehwi for that. Guanlin shrugged in response, not taking his eyes off his phone. "Not sure, but we both need to tell him about....." He was abruptly cut off by the hammering on the front door which Jihoon answered reluctantly. "Hello, hyun-" " "I've been hired as a flower boy!" The older man blurted out loudly, hopping up and down. Guanlin nearly fainted in surprise, he tried to cover up his shock by half-heartedly letting out a cheer of congratulations. "Wow! Isn't that great? We're both going to be working at the same place!" Other than MNet, Jaehwan was sure he had not encountered a faker person - in that moment - than Lai Guanlin. He smacked his chest lightly, protesting. "Yah, hyung will make a better flower boy than you." Guanlin raised an eyebrow, threaded to perfection and crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh, really?" Jihoon genuinely did not need that drama, he rubbed his temples and pushed his friends further away from each other with a huff of frustration. "Guys, let's not fight," he pleaded before turning to Jaehwan. "But... how did you even get hired? Sorry, just curious." With his ego on the line, Jaehwan bragged about how his good looks and talent made the cut with ease. "The boss was probably impressed with me," he purred. "No offence hyung but you are literally the clumsiest, messiest hyung I have ever befriended," Guanlin retorted but not in a mean manner, just a... you-know-it-too kind of way. A part of him was genuinely worried for his hyung. How was he going to survive this? Hmph! Why is everyone doubting my abilities? Am I not the perfect flower boy material? Ahh, my dongsaengs are so cute, worrying about me for nothing. Jaehwan pulled the two younger boys into a hug which they happily returned. "Ahh, don't worry about me. I'll be the best flower boy there, the fan favourite. Hyung will teach you two." The boys exchanged glances which each other, faces screaming 'eek!' but they said nothing and simply hoped for the best.

You observed the current state of the cafe closely, picking at every little detail that others might have brushed off. Technically, this was your uncle's job to boss the workers and take care of the place but he was not the most articulate person and many things slipped past him. In fact, he was not even at the front counter but inside the kitchen, idling. You stationed your Summer work, laptop and a free cup of coffee in the cosiest corner of the cafe, bathing in the lukewarm sunlight. So far, all seemed to be brilliant. Daehwi and Jihoon seemed to be crowd favourites. That, you definitely took note of. They were cute but not your type. Perhaps, you did not even have a specific 'type'. It was confusing and it was not like you were interested anyway. It was a busy late morning at the cafe. Heck, there was even a queue for the place and you really wondered why. What was so great about this place? It's literally a regular cafe, just with cute, aegyo filled servers. You wrinkled your nose at that but supposed you would not boycott it since it was a business your extended family was involved in. The whole concept was intriguing and fun, you would admit. A different kind of fun... for some people.... A groan slipped past your lips and you squeezed your eyes shut, head starting to throb at the mere thought of him. Kim Jaehwan is going to be the death of me. Someday, hopefully, before finals come. The Jaehwan you knew in school and the Jaehwan that worked here were the same person yet he behaved differently. Yes, he was a mess in school sometimes but only with his friends. Other than that, he was a model university student who studied hard but played harder. The Jaehwan you knew was a considerate and helpful classmate even if his help was somewhat half-hearted. He was a joy to be around. Bonus! He was pretty cute too, chubby cheeks and all. Jaewhan was adoringly nicknamed 'boiled dumpling' by a couple of his fangirls. However, the flower boy persona of Kim Jaehwan took a 360 spin on who he was in school. Unbeknownst to the 'boss' - your uncle -, you had already received a total of two complaints from customers. They complained that flower boy JaeK ( wink wonk ) - you nearly punched someone because of that name - had uttered explicit and appalling words directed towards them. When you confronted the flower boy, he only smiled sheepishly. "What? I was learning from Ong," he had defended, keen on winning the debate. You had run a hand through your knotted hair, sighing. "What exactly did you tell them?" "Well, Ong had used 'If I were a gardener, I'd put our two lips [ tulips ] together'. So I did my own spin on it and said, 'If I were a gardener, you'd be my hoe." ( if someone actually uses that I might fight them wh00ps ) He had replied, mildly proud of himself. "Jaehwan, did you actually read the rules of working here?" "Yes. More than the pile of notes that professor dropped on us." "Can...you like....be more polite next time okay? It was rude. That was inappropriate," you had scolded. "There are other things you could say you know. Cute things? Actual pick-up lines?" I still don't understand this concept. It's so cringeworthy and creepy. It's okay. Only a few more weeks of being in this damned place. You would never forget that suave smirk Jaehwan shot you as he casually leaned against the counter, nearly messing up the decorations Woojin had painstakingly set up that morning. It made your eyes waver until they locked with his own. His compelling gaze bore into you, inevitably charming you. "You know, darling," he had begun. "I'm only saving those for you." Just remembering that incident made your face burn. JaeK was one charming asshole that you felt like you were falling for.

The more you saw Jaehwan at the cafe, the more he stuck to your side like a leech at school. "Y/N!" You could hear him from a mile away, those vocals weren't trained for nothing. The boy had an angelic voice, you had to admit that. Also, you were starting to think that his clique despised you because of a number of times he had ditched them in favour of you but he was a nice person to talk to. A good listener, only interjecting when he felt it was needed. You enjoyed his company. Often, he would walk you back after a night shift when your uncle and aunt had left in a haste. They were in on it too. It was nice to see Jaehwan in two different lights. Stripped of his makeup and flower crowns, he walked you home after school or work - even if you did not live far from both. Sometimes, he would put his talent to good use and sing a catchy pop song or one of his self-written ones. That relaxed you and made you feel at ease. Other times, a serious student yet a playful friend at university. And of course, being a messy ass flower boy. You were not even sure why he picked that job. When you asked, he simply shrugged and replied with, "I'm not even sure myself. Perhaps I wanted to try something new." The whole situation brought you two a whole lot closer. To the point where you were comfortable with falling asleep on his shoulder on one late night bus ride home. The next morning, you awoke to find a pink flower crown on your bedside table. Your hands clasped around it, brushing over the faux petals. It had to be Jaehwan's. You wore it to 'work' later on, planning to return it but as you approached the counter, you realised he had already worn a spare one. Ong chuckled and ruffled your hair. "Ahh you guys are so cute," he said. "Almost like a couple," Jinyoung snickered as he carried out another tray. "I would support it," Daehwi added, grinning smugly from his spot next to the coffee machine. Your cheeks reddened but the thought of you and Jaewhan as a couple made your heart flutter madly. "Yah, don't go around and make people uncomfortable," Jaehwan chided at his friends, shaking his head which caused his flower crown to loosen. "Oh!" You echoed, leaning forward to fix it. "It's loose. Let me help." Simpers flittered around the two of you but you paid them no mind. Just as you were lowering your hands, beaming proudly at your 'handiwork', ( me, at my C5 graded art welp ) Jaehwan's hands wrapped around your wrists. He smiled and looked you straight in the eye. "Y/N," he murmured softly, his sweet voice seemed to lull you into a dream. It felt as if his voice or presence alone had entranced you into this bubble where a universe with only the two of you existed. Disregarding the pairs of eyes trained on you, you stared back into his beautiful orbs.

“Yes?”

"Let's be a couple for real."

#wanna one #wanna one scenarios #produce 101 #produce 101 scenarios #ong seongwoo #kang daniel #yoon jisung #ha sungwoon #park woojin #park jihoon #lee daehwi #lai guanlin #bae jinyoung #hwang minhyun #kim jaehwan

102 notes · View notes

cwdcshows · 5 years

Text

Supergirl - S5 E3 - Blurred Lines

I'm begrudgingly considering watching Batwoman, mainly because I'm OC'd and I'm watching the other DC-CW series, but God damn, I catch glimpse of it whenever I cue-up Supergirl and the DVR has recorded the last few minutes of the preceding Batwoman episode, and it's not inspiring me with any confidence. It apparently takes them 3 episodes to give her, her God damn hair - the hair we saw Batwoman sport nearly a year ago in the crossover, meaning at least part of this season is set in the relative past, presumably. But then we get this bullshit commentary about "the bat being back, but curvier and sexier," like fuck you. How the hell can you tell what this person looks in this suit? And so much for the urban legend angle. More importantly, how dumb is it that they have work so hard to come up with her name? Are we supposed to believe anyone was seriously considering calling her "Batchick"; while "Batwoman" flies under the radar? Moving on.... So at the end of the last episode, we see Billy-the-Kiss ass volunteering at a shelter; now he's hassling some guy at a night club about playing ball?

Of course Kelly gives random people she meets on the street unsolicited advice about their lives; because nothing makes someone more sympathetic than someone who likes to stick their nose into other people's business. And it seems this show has once again tricked me into walking into a double entendre. It's her job to listen to people? What is Kelly's job? She's so boring and last season seems like a lifetime ago, I have genuinely forgotten. Is she supposed to be a therapist or something? I suppose that explains her guiding J'Onn through this ordeal in the previous episode; I was wondering what made her qualified to do that, but it seems completely incongruent with the high tech coporate setting they've put her in. And Alex going from Kelly giving advice to her barista to being kidnapped by a shape shifter is a hell a segue. I have a feeling Alex has been waiting hours to find the right opportunity to bring that up; and it would seem she cracked under the pressure. "You don't want a world full of robots, you just want better people."

Oh.... Idiot Jed..... How does Brainy even function? Data was more adept at picking up behavioral cues. Wait, do people really like reading about death? I mean, I'll read the obits in my weekly hometown newspaper; I try to make it a point of at least paying respect to he recently deceased by reading their name and age at the time of death, but I'm don't go out of my way to scan for newspapers with a corpse on cover. Interesting aside, I was reading said newspaper just last night and noted how a local woman had died at the age of 44 - certainly a tragedy for a family to lose someone at such a fairly young age - and then I also saw that it noted her "husband of 30 years" and now I'm left wondering if one of those numbers was a typo or if this woman got married at 14..... So she hears Billy's heart beating fast and has to use her x-ray vision to confirm it? What else did she think it could have been? Okay, so Kelly is a Doctor. Yet the place she works doesn't remotely look like a hospital; and the staff don't look like medical staff. They (and the set) looks like they're trying to audition for a future JJ Abrams Star Trek film. So Kara is going all over the world to get lunch and coffee, but are any of these items going to still be hot by the time she gets back to the states? For that matter, how the hell does manage to carry all of this shit? I have a hard enough time carry my order from McDonald's from car the dozen or so yards into my house; especially if I have to also carry in anything else besides the bag of food and my drink. The couple of time I had my niece with me also got her something I absolutely asked the server at the drive-thru to put it all in one of those plastic bags they normally put salads in, because they have a handle - a fact I learned not because I have ever previously ordered a salad from McDonald's, but rather because I asked them if they had a bag with a handle they could put my order in to make it easier to carry and they responded, "you mean like a salad bag?" and I respond, "yeah, whatever." I'm just picturing Kara rigging up some sort of harness or something she can wear to help carry things around as she flies internationally; thumbing her nose at all of the customs agencies and international trade violations she's willfully causing. Also, now that Brainy has set it up so her suit materializes as soon as she takes the glasses off, shouldn't she get more clear of the doorway before doing that? That also raises the question of what happens when she just wants to lounge around without her glasses or is going to bed. Does she have to sleep in her suit now? Is it bonded to her skin? Is there a snooze button that allows her to take off her glasses and not activate the suit? What if she just needs to remove her glasses to get something out of her eye or to clean the glasses? Or those times like earlier in the episode when she just brings the glasses down just slightly to use her x-ray vision? What's the point of no return her glasses have to pass before the process starts? Can it be immediately reversed when she put the glasses back on; or is it something you have to wait until it's all the way done before you can go the other way? There are so many questions..... Seriously, Kara, Lena would be the only person interested in Lex's journals and there'd be no other constructive use for them other than therapeutic? Wait just a damn minute, she took her glasses all the way off to x-ray the dead body and didn't generate her suit. What the fuck? You lied to us Brainy. You lied and that can't be forgiven. What, the boy being called J'Onn might be J'Onn? Whodda thunk it? Although I suppose J'Onn might be a common name on Mars, like John, Jacob or Jingleheimer Schmidt. I can buy that children on Mars or other planets even might develop games similar to hide and seek; it's a basic concept that seems fairly plausible. What doesn't seem plausible is that children on Mars would play this game as humans. So in the last episode, J'Onn hit a wall in trying to recover his memories; and it was suggested that trying to use the Q-wave technology to go any deeper could do damage to J'Onn. Now this episode J'Onn barely has to try, with the help of a woman who isn't even a telepath. Kara can fly halfway across the world to get lunch for her and Lena, but forgets to put in an delivery order for dinner with Alex - come on Kara, strap on your harness and go get dinner, chop, chop! You know, if Terrible-Boss gets and more terrible, Kara could probably make bank moonlighting with GrubHub. Or start her own food delivery service - SupperGirl Should Brainiac have a clapper, as opposed to say, Alexa? Now that I think about it, why is Brainiac using his appearance filter when they're home alone or when he's sleeping for that matter? Surely these devices don't have an unlimited supply of power; and Brainiac shouldn't be concerned about his appearance in private. Guardian: "Yeah, I came prepared." With what, a glow stick? Seriously, is this supposed to be not-Spider-woman's not-Kryptonite? Did I miss a whole big schpiel about this alien thing have some special weakness? And why didn't Supergirl likewise come prepared? Also, who looped James into this? Was it Kara? "This device uses magnetic resonance to attract the heavy metals in their ink." You really could have just said "this device des magic" and it'd make about as much sense. Especially since it's not really ink, but rather some type of alien life form that only mimics the appearance of a tattoo. Are we supposed to be surprised that it was actually J'Onn who did the mind wipe? Like I mentioned with the last episode, I'm fairly certain he's wiped other people's minds without the permission; and we definitely know he's done it with their consent. In the last episode, Kelly was able to use her contact lenses to enter J'Onn's mind and interact with him in real time. Now it appears on a computer monitor and there's a time delay. In spite of this apparent de-evolution of the technological ability to merge one's mind with technology, this is still some next level shit that the characters just seem to be glossing over as no big deal. So if this...shadow... could kill bug-lady so easily, why even need her at all as an assassin? Was it for the plausible deniability of the target seeming to die of natural causes Is this going to turn out to be the Shadow Thief? Maybe Shade? I kind of hope it's not Shade. I know he (or sometimes she) has been a villain, but I kinda liked the run in the comics when he was an immortal good guy. Come on Brainiac, there's a fucking difference between "operating at 100%" and the fucking nuance of going overboard with things like food and poems. It's the sort of difference between being able to open a fucking door and ripping clear off the hinges; or holding someone's hand gently or crushing it. It's unrealistic to suggest that this quasi-organic-AI doesn't realize you can't go "full thrust" on every conceivable thing, because nothing in nature could function that way. And if he really needs things in those terms, then it's a matter of variable comprehension of where those critical thresholds are; because 100% maximum food consumption in a meal is not dozen whole pizzas. That is more than 100% of what one person can physically eat in one sitting and therefore should exceed his logical behavior. On the flip side, mazel tov when things turn physical and Brainiac brings this type of mindset to the bedroom....

youtube

"You were right, I was too open and too trusting. It's all my fault." Fuck you Supergirl Writers, for trying to bring this back to the opening bit between Kelly and the random person she was offering advice to on the street. J'Onn's brother manipulated Kelly by appearing to her as someone she knew and had at least enough of a past history with as to have a photo of him in her home. Had he appeared as the street barista or was just walking along the street not even looking for Kelly when Kelly came along, randomly zapping people with Q waves to help make them feel better, whether they asked for that help or not, sure, that would be "her fault". But this was a sneaky fucking telepathic shape shifter was determined to get your to do what he wanted; and while admittedly it barely took him much effort to convince you, it was only because you were legitimately doing what would have been the right thing under any other normal circumstance. "For a friend like you, there are no boundaries." Alright, now the writers are just fucking with us with these two. So Kara evidently didn't just pop in and grabbed the books, but also the watch too; seems she decided that so long as she was committing a felony, she might as well get her money's worth - and I suppose that makes sense. Is stealing some journals and a watch worse than just stealing the journals and not the watch, if you've only had to break into the one place? Next we'll see that she just cleared out the whole evidence lock-up, because you never know when you might need something else that's being held in Federal custody, and that way she's only had to break the law once; anything after that is just curation.

0 notes

lodelss · 5 years

Link

Leah Sottile | Longreads | July 2019 | 25 minutes (6,186 words)

Part 2 of 5 of Bundyville: The Remnant, season two of Bundyville, a series and podcast from Longreads and OPB.

Bill Keebler dumps a sugar packet into his coffee and calmly explains that the government is after him. They’re always watching him — constantly surveilling his every move, he says. He’s even at risk here, inside a Denny’s attached to a Flying J truck stop, about a half hour outside Salt Lake City.

He’s also pretty sure that Bundyville producer Ryan Haas and I are federal agents, posing as journalists. “I’m gonna be honest with you, it wouldn’t surprise me if both of you pulled out a badge,” he says.

Just after 4 p.m. on a frigid February day, Keebler, 60, shuffles toward the back corner table we’d staked out for the interview. He’s about a half hour late, uttering his deepest apologies for getting the time wrong. He’s never late, he says.

Keebler is a raspy-voiced Southerner with skin that looks brittle from working in the sun all his life as a horse wrangler, ranch hand, hunting outfitter, and construction worker. At Denny’s he’s wearing a sandstone-colored canvas work jacket, and his hair sprouts from underneath a khaki Oath Keepers hat, which covers a shiny bald spot on the top of his head. He smokes a lot. Drinks a lot of coffee.

On the phone a few days before, I told him that I’d read the court documents for his case and was surprised by what I saw. I wanted to hear his version of what happened in June 2016 on the day three years before when Keebler believed he was detonating a bomb at a building owned by the Bureau of Land Management, only to find that the bomb was a fake given to him by undercover FBI agents embedded in his militia group.

The bombing itself was shocking. But the part that surprised me at the time was that, despite having pleaded guilty, serving 25 months in jail, and being released on probation, most of his case was still under federal protective order. Keebler’s attorney told me he’s not allowed to say why. I’m at the Denny’s hoping Keebler might be willing to tell me anyway.

In reading about what happened that day in the desert with the bomb, I learned — through the few court documents available — that Keebler was close friends with LaVoy Finicum. He’s the rancher who was a leader at the Malheur occupation, in Oregon, and was shot and killed by authorities after fleeing from a traffic stop.

But before we can talk about that, we’ve got to calm him down. He nudges his head in the direction of a young waiter, walking in a loop around by our table. Under his breath, Keebler says, “We’re being watched.”

“Right now?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“By who?”

“A fed or an informant,” Keebler says.

Haas asks if he means the Denny’s server, who’s walking by to see if we need any refills on coffee. That’s the guy, Keebler says.

If there’s so much at risk, why meet us? Why tell your story?

“Because if I don’t it’s going to die with me,” he says. “I’ve been on borrowed time for years.” He says he survived cancer, a massive heart attack, and “four heart procedures, looking at a fifth.” That’s not to mention the other stuff — things much harder to believe but that Keebler swears up and down are real, like the federally organized hits on him by the gang MS-13 while he was behind bars.

So I assure him: I’m not a fed. Google me. And I tell him he’s in control of what he says. If I ask something he doesn’t want to answer, something he thinks might get him in trouble, he doesn’t need to respond. He agrees, and for three hours, Bill Keebler gives his side of what happened leading up to that day in the desert with the bomb — a version of the story in which he is the hero, the government is the enemy, and where America is so rapidly nearing its demise, he can almost taste it.

***

In the three years since the Bundys mobilized a force to take over the Malheur National Wildlife refuge in Oregon, the world has morphed in ways I couldn’t have imagined. For one thing, Donald Trump became the president of the United States. He has increased his attacks on media, stepping up from calling the very newspapers I write for “fake news,” to neglecting to hold the Saudi Arabian government accountable for putting into motion the murder of the journalist Jamal Khashoggi.

In June 2019, Trump — in a meeting at the G20 Summit — laughed with Russian president Vladimir Putin about journalists. “Get rid of them,” he said. “Fake news is a great term, isn’t it? You don’t have this problem in Russia. We have that problem.” And Putin responded: “Yes, yes. We have it, too. It’s the same.” They both laughed.

Oft-cited research collected by the Southern Poverty Law Center has shown that since 1996, anti-government activity surged when Democratic presidents were in office. Militia groups that claimed to see proof of tyranny thrived in the 1990s — specifically when Vicki Weaver and her teenage son were killed during a standoff with federal agents at Ruby Ridge in 1992, and when the feds stormed into the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas, in 1993.

In President Obama, the anti-government movement saw the embodiment of tyranny: someone upon whom they could project their worst fears. They called him a socialist globalist Muslim who, after ascending to the highest seat of power, would bring Sharia law upon the people. There was no proof or evidence to support this. But that didn’t matter to them.

Under Trump, suddenly, anti-government groups are pro-government. Nearly everything about Trump’s rhetoric — from questioning Obama’s nationality, to draining the swamp of elites, to building a border wall, to pushing for anti-Muslim legislation, to zealous nationalism — is lifted from the anti-government handbook.

“It blows my mind. The Patriot militia movement, anti-government movement — however you want to refer to them — under Obama was so concerned about tyranny and executive power … and yet they’ve been some of the most vocal advocates for Trump unilaterally grabbing and exerting executive branch power,” said Sam Jackson, an assistant professor in the College of Emergency Preparedness, Homeland Security, and Cybersecurity at the University at Albany-SUNY. Jackson researches the militia movement — he wrote his dissertation on the Oath Keepers.

“If Obama had talked about declaring a national emergency … they would have been up in arms in a heartbeat,” he said.

So what gives? How do the anti-government go pro-government?

“It makes it really hard to take them at their word,” Jackson told me. “It really makes it seem like all of that was just rhetoric that they deployed in pursuit of other goals that perhaps they perceived would be less popular amongst the American public — whether that’s Islamophobia or anti-immigration or whatever else they’re really interested in. It seems like perhaps now they’re willing to talk about these other things more blatantly than they were in the past.”

***

Bill Keebler tells us he was born in Mississippi and grew up in Georgia the descendant of a long line of military veterans. During the Cold War in the early 1980s, Keebler says he enlisted in the Army and served in Aschaffenburg, Germany. There, he says, he was on the frontlines of the fight against communism. And it was also during this time — he claims — that he placed third in the 1984 World Championships in Kung Fu.

It’s clear that he’s not the guy he used to be — or at least that the person I’m seeing before me at Denny’s isn’t the fighter he is in his head. Keebler claims that, after winning that championship, he created his own style of martial arts, called “Jung Shin Wu Kung Fu” before a “board of masters,” but the Bundyville team wasn’t able to confirm this.

After years of working on farms and ranches, Keebler found himself in Utah — far, far from home — where he worked as a hunting outfitter, trained horses, and says he became a member of the Utah Oath Keepers. Around Tooele County, Utah, he was so well-known as an ardent prepper and varmint hunter that the Salt Lake Tribune ran a story on his coyote hunting skills. In one scene in the story, Keebler crouches in underbrush and wears camouflage that’s been drenched coyote-urine scent.

In 2011, he was running a hunting outfitting business called Critter Gitter Outfitters and often posted photos on social media of his excursions into the wild. In one, a muscled, tanned Keebler poses with a baby deer he’d rescued.

Keebler spends a lot of time on the internet — has for years. Online, Keebler makes lots of dad jokes and even more jokes where a woman’s demise is the punchline. In one video he shared on his Facebook page, a blond woman in a white robe pleads with her husband until he hands her the keys of a black SUV with an oversize bow on the hood. When she starts the car, it explodes, the man smiles, and the words Merry Christmas, Bitch fill the screen.

By 2013, Facebook had become a place for Keebler to vent about Obama — “I call him O-bummer,” he told me during one phone call — where he openly shared his belief in an encyclopedic number of conspiracy theories. “FEMA camps are everywhere, Muslims and illegals are taking over, Obama is the biggest Traitor this country has ever known, No Jobs, 16 trillion in [debt] and no relief in sight,” he wrote one February morning. “Anyone protesting Obama is assassinated and turned into a monster by our own media.”

None of this is true — his sources are websites that are notorious for generating fake content. His words dipped in and out of coherence, in and out of overt racism. “Our jobs have all gone over seas to other country’s as they get Fat off our money and we send them aid, weapons and anything else they desire for free. Jets, food what ever they want because we OWE it to them somehow,” he wrote in one such post. “I have been patient, tolerant and offended too much for any more. I am an American, have lived as I will die as my ancestors did, As A FREE MAN. I speak fucking English and you can press 1 and kiss my ass ya muslim, communist Jackasses! If this offends you then I have succeeded in my intentions.”

He signed off on another post: “Stay safe, armed to the teeth, prepared and with God. Bill Keebler.”

Later that month, he wrote that “Someday SOON chit is gonna happen and this country will l;iterally EXPLODE, and when it does it will be a very messy situation… soon BOOM, we will explode. Hope you are prepared.”

Keebler hunting coyotes in 2011. (AP Photo/Al Hartmann – The Salt Lake Tribune)

By spring 2014, Keebler seemed to have a new personality altogether. He wrote near-constantly about what to do when SHTF (prepper-speak for “shit hits the fan”). He signed his posts “th3hunt3r.” He breathed in false information about the Bureau of Land Management killing endangered species and exhaled posts about the hypocrisy of not letting Cliven Bundy graze his cattle.

Much has been written about the algorithms employed by sites like YouTube, which keeps users on the site — generating more and more advertising dollars — by directing them toward more extreme content. Reporters and analysts often reflect on how this affects young people. But the algorithmic drive toward extreme content has taken hold with a much older generation, too, with guys like Keebler. Online, they can fantasize about who they’ll be when the end finally comes. They water their ignorance and hatred at an online trough with others who think just like them.

In April 2014, Keebler sprung into action after seeing a video on Facebook of a confrontation between Bureau of Land Management agents and protesters who’d assembled at the Bundys’ side — that video I mentioned way back at the beginning of this story, of Ammon Bundy being tased in the midst of a chaotic confrontation. Keebler loaded up his camper and drove several hours south to Bunkerville, Nevada, where he says he set up a mess hall and provided supplies.

“Well, I made it to the ranch, all is well, getting settled in, been intersting so far, and I aint shot no one, YET! lol” he wrote on his Facebook page on April 10 after he arrived.

Once there, Keebler solicited money online to help pay for supplies. He claims he kept hot tempers under control.

“I stopped some people wanted to shoot people,” he says to me at the truck stop. “One of them got mad about it and put a gun in my face. He wanted to start the war. … He said, ‘I’m gonna fire a shot just to get it started.’ … Things were that close. Volatile.”

Keebler also takes credit for ejecting Jerad and Amanda Miller — who would go on to murder two police officers in Las Vegas and die in the midst of a shoot-out with officers inside a Walmart. He claims that if it wasn’t for him, Bundy Ranch would have been a bloodbath. Less than a year later — according to Keebler’s defense attorney’s presentencing memo — an undercover FBI agent was embedded in Keebler’s own militia and then began to regularly talk about stepping into action, about blowing up federal agents and federal properties, and scouting a mosque as a potential target alongside Keebler.

And yet, Keebler never kicked that guy out.

II.

After the militias assisted in preventing the BLM from seizing the Bundy family’s cattle, Keebler left feeling excited about the movement. He lived on Bundy Ranch for about two weeks. “To me it was one of the biggest events in this country … short of the Boston Tea Party,” he says. “It was a wake-up call.”

“After the standoff and everything, we had momentum,” he says, offering his mug to the waiter for a refill. “It started because Cliven Bundy, but we started a movement that had the potential to be tenfold what it was.”

When he came back home to Utah, he quit the Oath Keepers. He proudly recounts a story about trading heated words at Bunkerville with the group’s founder, Stewart Rhodes. Keebler claims he asked whether Rhodes would accept “radical Islamic Muslims” into the group; Rhodes said the Oath Keepers doesn’t discriminate. Back at home, he started his own militia: Patriots Defense Force (PDF).

At the height of its membership, PDF had just seven members including Keebler. They held “field training exercises” where they’d shoot targets. They’d talk about raising “backyard meat rabbits” and chickens, and living off-grid. Mostly, they were a bunch of preppers.

But before PDF was even formed — even had a name — the FBI began to monitor him, according to court documents submitted by Keebler’s defense team. They began immediately upon his return home from Bundy Ranch. The Bureau eventually embedded three confidential informants in his militia and three undercover agents, including two men who went by the names Brad Miller and Jake Davis. Miller and Davis — people Keebler believed to be other God-loving Patriots — were sworn into PDF in May 2015. Excluding Keebler, the FBI agents, and informants, there were — at most — three members of PDF.

According to the defense, one informant was paid $60,000 for his undercover work inside the militia. The stories the FBI agents gave to Keebler must have seemed like he found a gold mine: Davis told stories of his expertise in hand-to-hand combat; Miller positioned himself as an expert in mining and explosives. Another FBI agent played the part of a successful business guy interested in funding a militia.

Unlike all the other times Keebler imagined the government conspiring to snoop on him, this time they actually were — but he was so focused on the “deep state” that he didn’t seem to notice what was happening right in front of his face.

As the FBI surveilled Keebler, he frequently spoke about martial law. “Under marshal [sic] law, Mr. Keebler expected the federal government to turn against the people…” His attorney wrote in his sentencing memo, “He envisioned house-to-house gun confiscations and the government putting ‘undesirable’ and ‘unsalvageable’ people in FEMA camps.”

By fall 2015, Keebler was meeting with LaVoy Finicum. Finicum, too, had been excited by what he had encountered at Bundy Ranch: a group of citizens who believed in Cliven Bundy’s conspiracy theories about the federal government coming to get him.

Finicum, after seeing Cliven Bundy successfully get away with shirking his grazing costs, had recently violated the terms of his own BLM grazing permit — accruing fines for grazing his cattle out of season. Finicum spoke to Keebler about fortifying his property in case of a situation like Bundy Ranch — or maybe even Ruby Ridge or Waco.

“At the Bundy’s we got there after the fact. If we knew it was coming, we could be there prepared,” Keebler says. Finicum was expecting the same. He’d stopped paying his grazing fees after going to Bundy Ranch and assumed the BLM would come get him, too. “We were going to stop them from taking the cattle,” he says. “Now I don’t mean ambush assault and kill and shoot. None of that crap.”

Keebler walks Haas and I through the plan: When the BLM came in, apparently the group planned to dig out the road the agents came in on with a backhoe — making it impossible for them to leave. Miller pushed for the group to instead explode the road, he says. Keebler said that was crazy, and the two traded words over it.

The group, without Finicum, drove toward Mt. Trumbull, where the government says Keebler got his first view of a building owned by the BLM — the remote property that, months later, he aimed to destroy with a bomb.

Over the course of our interview, Keebler mentioned several arguments with Miller. But he always let him stay.

If he was so extreme, such a loose cannon, I had to wonder, why keep him?

Because Miller, Keebler says, paid for gas to go to Arizona to meet with Finicum, and Keebler alleges, even to Washington State for a secret ceremony in which he was inducted into a Coalition of Western States militia by Washington state representative Matt Shea.

According to Keeber and his attorneys, federal agents were basically bankrolling his militia. And the way Keebler sees it, those same federal agents forced him to blow up a government building.

“The FBI covered Mr. Keebler’s expenses on many similar trips. The FBI also made repeated and timely donations to … keep it (and Mr. Keebler) afloat,” defense attorneys wrote. “In the end, Mr. Keebler did exactly what he was induced to do: he picked a target and ‘went on the offense.’”

“They were hell-bent determined to do something, and I guess I kind of let it get in my head,” Keebler says. “Maybe if we did something to kind of let them know that it’s kind of like a warning signal.”

***

Central to the Patriot movement are many, many theories about people its members believe are involved in a vast conspiracy against the American people. In my reporting, the most common names that came up in Patriot conspiracies (aside from Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama) were BLM agent Dan Love, who led the Bunkerville round-up at Bundy Ranch in 2014, and Greg Bretzing, who was the special agent in charge of the FBI’s Oregon office during the occupation of the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge.

After the events at Malheur, Bretzing retired from the FBI, and he now works in security, safety, and corporate affairs for a private company that builds barges and railroad cars. “So, are you plotting a conspiracy with Dan Love against the Patriot movement?” I ask him one morning last winter, sitting in his office.

Bretzing laughs. “No, no. I do know Dan Love.”

Bretzing worked for the FBI for 22 years, for much of that time on terrorism cases, both international and domestic. I want to know how the FBI views and defines international extremist groups differently than domestic ones. The biggest difference, according to Bretzing, is the law.

“There’s clear statutes against violent acts for political purposes or to overthrow a government,” he tells me. The FBI has squads devoted to domestic terrorism — but Bretzing said membership in any group isn’t what will get the feds on your trail.

“Anybody’s political beliefs, religious beliefs, First Amendment rights — none of that is an issue,” he says. “You can be a member of any group you want to be, and it can be a pro anything or an anti anything group. That’s fine. It’s when those groups then take steps to commit violent acts or to break the law or to defraud — that is when the FBI or other law enforcement starts to look at them.”

Someone has to break the law — or look like they’re going to break the law — to get the attention of the FBI. Bretzing is clear: The FBI does not go on fishing expeditions of people it doesn’t like.

I tell Bretzing about the Keebler case; it didn’t ring a bell. But when I tell him more about it, he says it reminds him of a notorious 2010 case in Portland involving the would-be “Christmas tree bomber.” In that case, a young man named Mohamed Mohamud believed he was detonating a bomb that would have caused large-scale fatalities of civilians attending the city’s annual Christmas tree lighting ceremony in the center of the city.

When Mohamud attempted, twice, to ignite the bomb — which was provided by an undercover agent — it didn’t go off. He was arrested immediately. Mohamud’s attorney argued his client was entrapped. Prosecutors argued the violent religious extremist ideology was already in place; they were preventing him from acting on it. He was convicted in 2013 for attempted use of a weapon of mass destruction and sent to prison for 30 years.

“Having undercover agents inside is important to both effectively gather the evidence and to ensure that nothing violent actually does take place,” Bretzing tells me. “If you look at the tapes on Mohamed Mohamud, many, many, many times the undercover agents say, ‘We don’t have to do this. This is not something that has to be done, we can put it off … Are you sure you want to do this?’ Constantly ensuring that this is something that the individual is pushing, not the government. But the reason it’s important to have an agent inside is if an agent wasn’t there with this individual, then [they would] be taking these steps on their own.

“The public would rightfully be unhappy if then a violent act occurs and we didn’t do all we could do to stop it,” he says.

But, how can law enforcement agencies be so sure people will go on to commit acts of violence? And what’s the right way to go after domestic terrorists?

I ask Karen Greenberg, the director of Fordham Law School’s Center on National Security these questions. For years, she’s been examining cases that show an intersection of national security, policy, human rights, and civil liberties issues.

Greenberg is extremely cautious of creating overarching laws that target domestic terrorists. “Washington is looking for is a domestic terrorism statute — that will be a federal one, which we don’t have. We have one for international terrorism, and it’s quite broad in its application,” she tells me. “Part of the reason is they want to be able to have greater surveillance powers.”

To apply that to domestic terrorism cases, she feels, is “a very dangerous road.”

Kickstart your weekend reading by getting the week’s best Longreads delivered to your inbox every Friday afternoon.

I call up Michael German to get his perspective. He’s a fellow at the Brennan Center for Justice now, but in the 1990s, he was an undercover FBI agent inside militia groups in Southern California and the Pacific Northwest. I want to get a sense from someone who’s been undercover why the feds might home in on a guy like Keebler.

German says that in the years after 9/11, successive attorneys general amended guidelines that gave the feds greater flexibility. They were allowed to open investigations into people they might not have bothered with in previous years. They might look into a guy like Keebler even if they weren’t sure he was committing any crimes. That sounds like the opposite of what Bretzing told me, I say.

“It sounds like from what you’re telling me after 2002 and after 2008 it became maybe a little bit more permissive to go on fishing expeditions of people that you don’t ideologically agree with,” I say to him.

“Right,” he says. FBI agents want to believe they don’t do that, “but clearly evidence shows the opposite.” German rattles off a list of cases and explains to me, “There was a case in Southern California where an FBI informant eventually got sideways with the FBI and came forward acknowledging that he had been directed to probably target Muslim communities in Southern California.” The agent “used listening devices to record people’s conversation when there was no suggestion they were actually involved in any kind of criminal activity,” he says. “So the difference is now that’s allowed.”

German says the FBI doesn’t need an indicator of criminal activity anymore in order to watch a person. All they had to show was that an individual needed to be watched because they fit into the parameters of an established FBI’s mission to stop terrorism. That is, maybe they could commit a terroristic act someday in the future.

“They have continued using that tactic and initially it was mostly used against Muslims but has broadened out because it’s a successful tactic as far as the FBI is concerned,” he says. “My concern with that is you’re targeting the lowest-hanging fruit.”

“I know from my own investigations that there are actually people out there plotting serious attacks who have obtained weapons, who have recruited people who have violent pasts, who are willing to commit violent crimes,” German adds. “Why we’re focusing on people who were so incapable and using the resources of the government to improve their capability of doing harm, rather than focusing on people who are engaging in violence, it’s hard for me to understand that that’s a legitimate use of government resources.”

For years, Greenberg has kept a close eye on international terror cases unfolding in U.S. courts, often with elements that feel similar to Keebler’s: A person believed to be associated with al-Qaeda is surrounded by informants and undercover agents, and the person of interest is given a bomb to ignite in the name of an international terror group.

“So the FBI’s defense on this, and it’s worth thinking about, is ‘Look, I could have been al-Qaeda. I could have been an al-Qaeda operative trained and on-message. … If I could get him to do it, don’t you think an al-Qaeda guy could have gotten him to do it?’ And it works with a jury. It works. Because they say to the jury, ‘Would you have said yes to this guy?’”

III.

In February 2016, one month after Finicum was shot by authorities after fleeing the traffic stop in Oregon, the members of Patriots Defense Force met at a Carl’s Jr. near Keebler’s home. One way this meeting had been viewed was as a planning session for the group’s next steps — ones that could have potentially led to violence.

Put another way, entirely: Keebler’s defense attorney framed this as a meeting at a fast food restaurant with two FBI agents — one of whom taunted him as a coward and pushed him toward action — and a government informant.

According to court documents, at that meeting Miller mocked Keebler, saying that the Patriots and PDF were just a group of “Facebook fuckin’ Nazis” who have a lot to say on the internet, but never take action in real life.

Keebler, in response, suggested the group do some reconnaissance of potential targets in Salt Lake City. Miller — who, don’t forget, was there as an undercover FBI agent — suggested targeting Muslims. According to his attorney, Keebler told Miller he didn’t how to find any. Miller then offered to google a mosque, and the group drove there in two cars.

Keebler says that once outside the mosque, agents asked him why he wouldn’t bomb it. Keebler claims he pointed to the buildings around it. “I said, ‘I’ll tell you why you can’t. You see that big-ass building behind you over your left shoulder?’” he recalls. “I said, ‘That’s one reason you can’t. You’re never getting out of this place. Second: Look at the terrain.’

“People were walking around coming in and outside, and started playing basketball. And I said, ‘You see that? Those are kids. There’s women and children playing basketball and shit.’ Like, y’all have lost it.”

So, the group moved on. The caravan drove past an FBI building and a Bureau of Land Management office. Miller suggested that they send a mail bomb to it, or use a truck bomb to blow it up. Keebler, again, resisted — and the recon mission ended.

Around this point, even Davis, the other undercover agent, was unsure about the tactics he and Miller were using with Keebler. In text messages presented in court by Keebler’s defense, Davis wrote to his handler, Steve Daniels: “So I was thinking on the drive home. I hope we didn’t open Pandora’s box in a way by taking [Keebler] to a mosque he might not have found on his own. With the case winding down on our end I am worried about our liability if he happens to go back sometime on his own.”

In another message, Davis wrote to Daniels: “I’m all for pushing him, but we can’t sound more radical to him.” Davis expressed concern that it seemed like he and Miller would leading the recon mission: “To me, that’s what it sounds like we are doing,” he texted.

In another text, Davis noted that pushing Keebler was “grinding” on him. “I wanted to push [Keebler] outside his comfort zone to take his temperature, not lead him to something,” he wrote. “I am not down with giving him all the ideas like when [Miller] told him that we would have to mail a bomb to the BLM office … or drive a car bomb up to it. We can’t be putting crazy ideas into a crazy guy’s head.”

Daniels said he’d listen to the recordings. “I haven’t got the mail bomb stuff. (Yikes),” he wrote.

Illustration by Zoë van Dijk

If it sounds like Bill Keebler was pushed to an act of domestic terrorism by the government itself, that’s certainly what defense intimated during court proceedings. And I tried to get the government’s side of this — filing a FOIA request for the full context of these text messages. But after half a year of waiting for those documents, I still haven’t gotten a response. So I’m stuck with what Keebler tells me, sipping his coffee as he worries our waiter is watching him.

After 26 months of surveilling Keebler, he was handed an improvised explosive device by one of those undercover officers — the same one who said he had an explosives background — and a detonator. Together with the agents, they made the long drive from Keebler’s Utah home, several hours south in the rough desert of Northern Arizona, to an empty BLM building.

Arguably, along the way, Keebler had plenty of opportunities to say stop, turn around, let’s not do this, I can’t. But he didn’t. And when the bomb was placed at the building near Mt. Trumbull by the undercover agent — near where the Bundy’s ancestors once tried to make a home — Keebler’s finger was the only one on the button.

Court documents show differing views on what Keebler was willing to do if people were inside the building. In sworn testimony, Daniels told the court that Keebler and Miller discussed what to do if BLM officers were inside, and Keebler “made a comment of: ‘fuck ‘em.’”

He hit the button three times. An explosion went off, but Keebler was too far away to see that his “bomb” was actually a fake, and the sound he heard was a concussion grenade deployed by the FBI. His lawyer called his intent to destroy the place a “serious property crime.” The government called it a bombing.

***

I ask Keebler what the federal government, ideally, would look like to him. After Bundy Ranch, what did he decide he’d like to see change?

He says not only does he want the federal government to stay out of the business of individual states, he wants it to be purged of the people he believes are ruining the country. The “deep state,” he says.

“Everybody knows they’ve outlawed prayer in school,” he says. “You can’t do the Pledge of Allegiance in our schools, but now we got Muslims praying in the hallways in our schools and in our classrooms, and teachers are now making kids dress up like Muslims. And —”

“Where is this happening?” I stop him.

“A number of places. Yeah. They have taken over whole cities.

“They want to stop prayer, they want to stop all the American stuff. The Boy Scouts and everything. Make it Islam. They’re out there on the streets right now with hundreds of them bowing, they’ve shut down whole roads, and the cops are standing over them making sure nobody interrupts them. Are you serious? It’s what Bradley tanks are for. You get about 50 rednecks with four-wheel-drive pickups and we’ll end that problem.”

Keebler is advocating for something that sounds like intimidation at best, and slaughtering Muslims in the streets of America at the worst. And it’s all informed by his conspiratorial worldview. Maybe this is the kind of talk that brought the FBI to him.

“They have their own cops now,” he says. They’re arresting Christians, he says, and I’m shaking my head at him. It’s on the internet, he says. “You need to do your homework.”

“Do you think the federal government is involved in that?” Haas, my producer, asks.

None of this is based in fact, but that doesn’t matter to Keebler. “I know damn well they are,” he says defiantly.

It should be no shock at this point to tell you that Keebler is an ardent Donald Trump supporter. He loves him.

“Obama’s not even a black. He’s not African American, he’s Muslim — Kenya or some shit,” Keebler says. “The agreement that they put him in as the president is that he would make way for more Muslims to be up again in the United States. That’s what’s actually come out recently.”

“But who says that?” I press him.

“One of the news — some reporter somewhere,” he says.

“Soros is financing a lot of it,” Keebler says, calmly, like this is a normal thing to believe and I’m thinking, again, about how people can pick ideas like these up from Trump now.

It seems like this is what happens when conspiracies become the language the powerful use to communicate to disenfranchised people aching for a target — an explanation and a reason — for their discontent.

“A lot of this is about the New World Order. Look at the pedophilia going on right now. … It’s all over the internet.” Keebler looks from Haas to me and back again, shocked at our ignorance.

“I can’t believe y’all don’t know none of this stuff,” he says.

But what would be the point of “knowing” something that isn’t real?

****

Before we leave Keebler, I ask him about the bylaws of Patriots Defense Force — which were presented as evidence against him in his case.

I was particularly drawn to the “alert levels” that spell out how members should react in various stages of emergencies. In the worst-case scenario — a level 5 or “black” situation — the bylaws tell militia members to prepare for the absolute worst: “Get gear, family and haul ass to pre-arranged rendezvous point, or bunker down,” it reads. “THE BALLOON HAS GONE UP!”

“What is the shit hits the fan scenario?” I ask.

“During the Obama administration,” he says, “if he calls martial law I’m not gonna wait till he comes to my town. It’s too late. That would have been a shit hit the fan.”

“So what’s the difference now?”

“I think if Trump declares martial law, it would be in a more controlled manner. He’s not coming after Patriots. He’s not coming after militia,” he says.

“Do you mean he’s not coming after white people?” I ask.

“No. No, see there you go pushing the racist bullshit,” he says, despite the fact that, for two hours, he’s been talking about Muslims in the most hateful terms I’ve ever heard in an in-person conversation.

“What do you think happens if the Democrats impeach Trump or some kind of charges are brought?” he asks us. “What do you think happens? It’s over. All bets are off,” says Keebler.

“What does that mean?” Haas asks him.

“All bets are off,” he smiles. “Take that for what it’s worth. People are wanting retaliation. They want revenge, they want payback for a lot of things. This abortion crap. What happened to LaVoy. What is happening to our children. What has happened to our streets. What is happening in our schools. People want retribution.”

***

Bill Keebler says he’s never even heard of Panaca, Nevada. Never heard of a Jones, or a Cluff or another bomb in the desert the summer he tried to bomb the BLM building. I’ve learned tons about the Patriots from talking to him, but nothing more about Panaca.

We spend the next week driving through the mountains, through deserts, through towns built by polygamists and pioneers. I see the appeal of life out here. Of disappearing into the wild and forgetting about the rest of the world.

But no matter how many times I use my job as an excuse to disappear into parts of the West I wouldn’t otherwise go to, I always end up feeling a sense of relief when I’m back, sitting in traffic in a city again.

I’m thinking of Keebler the next day, at the TSA checkpoint inside McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas. Where people say goodbye to their family members and start to weave through a long, snaking line, there’s a man who looks as rumpled as Keebler — but isn’t white — seated with three police officers standing around him.

It’s a busy Sunday, there are people and kids waiting in line, watching this scene. Things seem calm, albeit weird. And then the man raises his voice. I’m close enough to hear him yell something about the Constitution, about liberty. And the officers stand him up and restrain his wrists behind his back, then lead him away. The line slithers on.

But something’s different. At the front of the line a TSA agent barks orders: Stand side by side. Walk slowly. As we progress two by two, a thick black dog led by a Homeland Security agent sniffs everyone in a circle. I hear the guy being led away shout something about “We, the People.”

The orders continue. Show your ID. Put it away. Shoes off? No, shoes on. Take out your laptops. Use two bins for all your stuff. Stop. Walk. Wait.

It’s a language we all seem to speak in a dialect that’s always changing, for reasons we don’t know — but what we understand is that this language doesn’t include the words that guy was saying. Or, what he is now likely still saying somewhere else in this airport, in a secret place or room we also know, but don’t really.

I think about Keebler, how I could see him in that same situation here, and how he’s been called a terrorist, and yet still, there’s all these things we don’t know about the government’s role in his story. His case is sealed tight. Why are they keeping it so opaque?

I’m still not convinced a guy like Keebler really could carry out an elaborate bomb plot without ample help. But even so, there’s one thing in court documents that I kept coming back to: that in the hours after Keebler believed he detonated a bomb, as he drove back to Utah, amped up on what he’d just done, he offered a declaration. According to the government, Keebler said after the bombing, “This isn’t about LaVoy, it’s what he stood for.”

In Panaca, police reports said Jones mentioned LaVoy Finicum in the same breath as his bomb. And now here, with Keebler, there he is again.

All these years later, the ghost of LaVoy Finicum continues to push the Patriot movement forward. And yet all this time I’ve been reporting on this movement, I know so little about him. He was the guy who was killed by police, who no one heard hide nor hair of before Bundy Ranch. But what did he actually believe and why is it so persuasive?

I can understand how people who have questions, who never get answers, form their own explanations. How out here in the West, so far from where the decisions are made about how this society works, people can’t figure out how to access the information they need. Everything about Keebler’s case feels Orwellian. He’s a racist, and it’s easy to write him off. But I see now how writing him off means patrolling what he thinks, and that policing certain thoughts — no matter how gross — means a denial of certain rights.

At the airport, I don’t ask questions about which of my liberties are being violated when I go through the security line. I don’t scream and shout about the Constitution when I’m loading my laptop into the bin. Or when I take off my shoes. Or when I put my hands above my head in a machine that seems to suggest it can see through me for things maybe even I don’t know are there.

***

Leah Sottile is a freelance journalist based in Portland, Oregon. Her work has appeared in theWashington Post, Playboy, California Sunday Magazine, Outside, The Atlantic and Vice.

Editors: Mike Dang and Kelly Stout Illustrator: Zoë van Dijk Fact checker: Matt Giles Copy editor: Jacob Gross

Special thanks to everyone at Oregon Public Broadcasting.

#IFTTT #Blogger

0 notes