#i watched it with my siblings and when the grave scene was happening i yelled out 'heathcliff WISHES' like. my brain is wired to connect

[cadaverousdecay]

you r actually so crazy for the saltburn + wuthering heights parallels. ...im so happy you liked this film you can't even believe like I need to be weird and unsettling with someone about it so bad

zedfer i need to talk with u for 5 hours straight about this film im so serious u and nico and i NEED to get together to watch and discuss it it is so cruel that we're so distant,,,,, no one understands it like us freaks

[depressedbagpipe]

Silver (Prince Caspian x female!reader)

Chapter VIII - The Fall of Miraz

Words: 4034 Warnings: canon-typical violence, descriptions of war, injuries and blood. again, we've all seen the scene so we know what we're dealing with. reader being on thin ice. A/N: howdy! I'm not 100% I've proofread this, so just look out for any typos. also, only 2 more chapters to go :(

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Chapter VIII - The Fall of Miraz

Peter paraded decisively in front of us. The visor of his helmet was up, his shield strongly held in his hand. Edmund and I walked a couple of feet behind him, also dressed in full armor. Narnian warriors stood on both sides of the entrance, cheering for their High King. 

A black mass of Telmarine soldiers encouraged their king at the far end of Aslan’s How. Miraz and his advisors stood at the ruins that protected the fortress, staring at us as we came closer. Glenstorm received us with a bow of his head, guarding the stone where the duel would take place. 

I frowned when I noticed Miraz whisper something to the man on the right, holding a crossbow. As Miraz stood up, I too whispered something to the siblings. “Be ready for anything,” I knew they had heard me, even though we didn’t look at each other.

Peter freed Rhindon from its sheath in Edmund’s hand, the Narnians cheering at his action. I subtly looked back, seeing our army protect our fortress. I winced as I looked at the grand army at the end of the field, praying to Aslan that, whatever happened, Narnia would survive. Against better judgment, my eyes looked for Caspian, but he wasn’t there. I frowned in confusion, anger, and worry, but right then, I had to be elsewhere. Everybody was breathing heavily, the tension palpable as both kings stared at each other, a battle of looks before a battle to the death.

“There is still time to surrender,” Miraz spoke out loud, his voice muffled by his iron mask. Despite the Telmarine’s attempt at intimidation with such a mask, he looked like a caricature of himself. My hatred for the man only rose.

“Well,” Peter answered, his voice assertive and grave. “Feel free.”

“How many more must die for the throne?” Miraz’s second attempt at intimation was also in vain. 

“Just one,” Peter put his visor down, and the fight started.

Both crowds cheered their kings on as their swords clashed and collided with each other. They both expertly deflected their opponent, the fight unmatched. Despite their difference in age and combat style, they both continued to attack and defend without barely grazing each other. Minor injuries were inflicted on both kings, their yells and groans in pain indicating how much they were both tiring, but neither one of them was stopping. 

I felt helpless, simply standing there, watching my best friend fight for his life, and ours. Miraz managed to pin Peter to the ground, stomping on his shield and moving it to the side, causing Peter to shout in pain. Edmund winced, but his eyes never left Peter. 

Miraz was suddenly on the ground too, quickly getting up, before the sound of a horse on the side made the two turn their heads towards it. Caspian rode to us, with Susan behind him. I felt my eyes sting at the sight, but quickly turned back to Peter when I heard Miraz talking to him.

“Does His Highness need a respite?” 

Even though his mockery was clear, Miraz was too breathing rather heavily. “Five minutes?” Peter asked.

“Three!” Miraz corrected.

I scoffed. “Idiot.”

They both turned their back wearily at each other, and Peter, groaning, walked to us with difficulty. Edmund and I went to his aid immediately, helping him walk to where Glenstorm, and now Susan and Caspian stood. 

“Lucy?” Peter asked when he noticed his younger sister wasn’t present. My eyes widened in shock.

“She got through… with a little help,” Susan answered, sharing a look with Caspian. 

“Thanks,” Peter looked at the prince with thankful eyes.

“Well, you were busy,” Caspian said after staring at Peter. 

I bit my tongue as I moved to the side, helping Edmund with Peter’s preparations. I tried my best not to look at Caspian, but even I could feel his burning gaze on the back of my head. Edmund shot me a questioning look at my silence, but I only shook my head. This wasn’t the time. 

Peter looked at Susan with a somber look. “You better get up there. I don’t expect the Telmarines will keep their word,” Susan walked forward and hugged him, making him wince in pain.

“Keep smiling,” Edmund told Peter after glancing back at the Narnians. I followed his gaze, noticing how their faces were laced with fear and uncertainty.

Immediately, Peter, Edmund, and I grinned at them, Peter raising his sword in the air despite the pain as Susan went back to her assigned post with the rest of the archers. The Narnians yelled at our gesture, their faith returning with a big applause as we kept up our exaggerated charade. I chuckled at Peter’s face, drenched in sweat and pain evident in the way he was clenching his jaw, which made Caspian look at me. He wasn’t smiling like we were, but his lip did turn upwards slightly. I forced myself to look elsewhere, for I couldn’t bear the depth of his eyes. This wasn’t the time.

Peter sat down, and Edmund, Caspian, and I set ourselves to work. We gave Peter fresh water to drink, cleaned his wounds, and patched him up as best as we could in under a minute.

“I think it’s dislocated,” Peter said about his left arm. Edmund rushed to his side to check. “What do you think happens back home if you die here?” he asked out loud. I sharply turned my head to look at him, knowing he was losing faith. He looked at Edmund as tears gathered in my eyes. “You know, you’ve always been there, and I never really…” he doubled in pain with the sound of bones cracking. Edmund was gripping his arm, relocating his arm in place and effectively silencing his speech.

“Save it for later,” Edmund replied.

We all got ready once again, this time Peter refusing his helmet. Miraz did the same, walking once more to the center of the pillars with a newfound hatred in his eyes after seeing Caspian again.

They both charged strongly, slashing and crashing their shields. Everything happened too slow and too fast at the same time. Peter somehow lost his sword along the fight, using his fists to defend himself against Miraz’s shield, his hand also sword-less. Suddenly, when Miraz seemed to have the upper hand, Peter pulled a move I was too familiar with. He forcefully punched Miraz’s kneecap, making the older man grab his leg in pain, effectively dropping his shield. Too many times I had done the same to him centuries ago when we trained on the grounds of Cair Paravel and he overpowered me and got rid of my swords. He claimed it hadn’t been fair the first time, but when it later saved his life in a battle not long after that, it became our shared combat move. I grinned at him, proud of the man he had become once again, as Miraz desperately called for respite from his place on the ground.

“Now’s not the time for chivalry, Peter!” Edmund yelled beside me. 

The battleground fell silent, all of us waiting for Peter’s next move. Miraz had his hands before him, as if asking for mercy, but as soon as Peter turned around, he grabbed his sword from the ground.

“Look out!” I yelled, making Peter thankfully turn around before Miraz could strike him, and with a couple of moves and a swift lap, impaled the usurper with his own weapon. 

Miraz fell to his knees, breathing heavily. Blood poured out of his wound, and I had to look somewhere else. I grabbed my side, where the old wound stood as if I could still feel the pain. Peter had the sword up in the air, ready to end things. But he did not move.

“What’s the matter, boy? Too cowardly to take a life?” Miraz mocked him, hopefully for the last time ever.

Peter lowered the sword. “It’s not mine to take,” and with that, he grabbed the sword by the edge, extending the hilt towards Caspian, waiting for him to take it. 

Caspian walked forward and took the weapon, a fierce look in his eyes. Peter grabbed Rhindon from the ground and walked to us, watching the scene unfold.

Caspian’s hands positioned the sword right on Miraz’s head, and this time I couldn’t take my eyes away. His actions would be decisive, it would mark the king he would become. For a few seconds, gone was the charming naive young prince I had met that first day, which had stared at every creature in wonder despite residing with them for months, who wanted to do good to his kingdom and undo the wrongs of his ancestors. For a few seconds, the boy I had irrevocably fallen in love with was gone. 

“Perhaps I was wrong,” Miraz looked at his nephew one last time. “Maybe you do have the makings of a Telmarine king after all.”

Miraz lowered his head right before Caspian screamed. I closed my eyes in defeat, looking down at the deafening sound of the blade. I tear fell down my cheek and onto the ground, blending with the stone below my feet. 

“Not one like you,” I heard Caspian say. I opened my eyes to find Miraz alive, the sword embedded on the ground beside him. “Keep your life. But I am giving the Narnians back their kingdom,” he walked back to us.

Glenstorm raised his sword, signaling the Narnian victory as the crowd behind us cheered. Another tear fell down my eye, this time in relief. For the prince had come back.

Caspian wiped the tear off my cheek as he got closer without another word, and I smiled at him. Edmund even patted him on the back as we started retreating into our fortress when Miraz’s groans and fall alerted us.

An arrow stood on the now dead king’s back. I looked back at Susan, for we all recognized her arrow, but she quickly shook her head. I stared back at the corpse, realizing that, by the angle the arrow stood, it couldn’t have been any of our archers. 

The man who stood almost proud over Miraz yelled. “Treachery! They shot him!” he grabbed Miraz’s sword as he kept shouting at the army behind him. “They murdered our king!” He ran back to his troops. The Telmarines looked at each other in confusion but prepared themselves for war.

I stared at the man who was now nearing his horse, knowing it had been him the one to kill Miraz and frame us.

“Be ready!” Peter yelled at the Narnians. 

Caspian shouted behind us. “Peter!”

One of the Telmarines that had stood at the ruins with us attacked Peter from behind, but this time I was faster. With a quick movement, he was laying dead on the ground as I urged the brothers on, standing protectively in front of them.

“Go!” I yelled. Caspian quickly mounted his horse as we agreed, while Peter, Edmund, and I stood unmoving with our swords ready. The Telmarines readied their catapults, sending huge boulders flying over our heads. Many hit the ground around us, making me fear for the Narnians who stood below us, but thankfully, the ground didn’t collapse. Not yet.

With a scream, the Telmarines began their attack, thousands of soldiers running to us as the catapults kept firing. The ground rumbled with their hooves, making my heart race in both anticipation and adrenaline. 

“Archers to the ready!” Susan yelled from above, calling the archers to action. 

When one of the boulders landed near the entrance to the fortress, Caspian and Glenstorm made their way inside, galloping as fast as they could go. The ground below us shook with the Narnians running through the hidden tunnels, the sound of the war fanfare ringing in my ears. 

“One, two…” Peter counted as we kept our ground.

“Five, six…” I continued, knowing Caspian was doing the same thing underground.

“Take your aim!” Susan ordered once more.

“Stay with them!” I heard Trumpkin shout.

My heart beat faster than ever, the energy pumping through my veins, almost begging to be unleashed. I heard Winter behind me, growling fiercely as she commanded the Narnian wolves. 

“Eight, nine… Get ready!” Peter yelled, all of us adopting our stances.

The ground in front of us finally collapsed, sending many of the frontline soldiers down on their horses. The ones who remained unharmed were also quickly taken down by the archers per Susan’s order. 

For a split second, the scene remained silent, until the Narnians quickly ran to the Telmarine encounter. 

“Charge!” Peter screamed as we all ran to the fight, the underground Narnians suddenly appearing on both sides of the hole, fighting Telmarines left and right. 

Winter ran by my side and I hopped on her, used to fighting while riding the big white wolf. I heard many soldiers shriek in terror at the sight, knowing how deadly Winter’s eyes became on the battlefield. I stood next to Peter, protecting him for he was the only one of us fighting on his two feet. 

We both stared at the big army which still hadn’t charged, knowing our numbers were still low. With his hand raised, Caspian motioned the Gryphons to attack from the air, Narnians on their claws firing arrows from the sky. They quickly fell to the ground when big crossbows fired back at them. 

Peter turned around, desperately searching Susan’s eyes. “Lucy,” he called, for his sister was still missing. 

I caught sight of Susan shaking his head, before deflecting every attack coming Peter’s way.

“Back to the How!” Peter called, running back to the fortress. 

“Everybody, let’s go!” I shouted on the sidelines, making sure every single Narnian retreated out of the enemy’s fire. 

More boulders fell on us, destroying the façade of the How for the catapults were now much closer than they were before. One of them fell dangerously close to where Winter and I ran, but she quickly dodged it, sending me off her back. I rolled on the ground, unscathed, expertly landing on my feet as we had done many times before.

Part of the rocks supporting the entrance came down, effectively blocking our path. One of the trees fell on top of the archer’s post, almost sending Susan to her death had it not been for Trumpkin’s strong hand, holding her tightly. 

With one look at the Telmarines, we knew we were doomed. They had closed us in around the How with no escape, and barely room to fight. Peter, Susan, Edmund, Caspian, and I stood at the front, our swords ready, knowing that, if Narnia fell, we would fall with it.

We run towards them, immediately fighting on our feet against every soldier that came our way. I slashed every Telmarine on my path, my silver blades rapidly turning red. Pure adrenaline ran through my veins, my body moving on its own accord. I hit, punched, kicked, crashed, run, without registering anything. The Silver Knight had a deadly reputation, and it was because of battles like this. 

I took a few moments to breathe as one of my swords made its way into a soldier’s shoulder. I glanced to my right, seeing another man coming closer to Caspian. With a swift motion, I grabbed one of the daggers on my belt and sent it hurling to the soldier’s neck, who fell next to Caspian. He looked up, bewildered, nodding his head at me in gratitude before we both resumed our actions.

The Termarine soldiers were still closing in on us, different groups coming closer on every side, their spears glistening in the sun. Winter stood before me protectively, growling deeply to the soldiers who came my way. Caspian was sent to the collapsed ground, and I yelled his name as I saw him fall. A few centaurs and minotaurs tried to take down the formations but were also quickly struck down. 

A deep rumbling was heard on the battlefield, and I looked back to see the trees fighting on our side. I simply stood there, watching in astonishment as the large beings protected the baffled Narnians and took down every Telmarine soldier in their wake. It had been some time since they last fought with us, but it still remained a sight to see. Many Telmarines ran in terror at them, only to be easily knocked down by the tree’s roots, branches, and trunks, In yet another moment of distraction, one soldier grazed my face with the tip of his sword, really close to my eye, but before I could strike back, one of the tree’s branches grabbed the soldier by the leg and sent him flying to the side.

I exhaled, feeling the warm liquid trickling down my side, but sighed in relief when I saw Peter pull an unharmed Caspian up. The Narnians stood bewildered as the trees chased the Telmarines away. Winter nuzzled his head on my head affectionately, as we both looked at the retreating foreign soldiers. The trees’ branches took out the catapults, and at last, Peter yelled.

“For Aslan!” We ran after them, deep into the woods until we cornered them at the river Rush.

I jumped back on Winter, resuming my usual position at the frontlines as we reached the river. To my shock, I found a young Lucy Pevensie standing on the other side of the river, right at the exit of the wooden bridge Miraz had been so adamant to build. Lucy stood seemingly alone with a fierce expression, yet the warmth that spread through my chest told me otherwise. 

The rest appeared behind me, wearing similar expressions on their faces. I saw Peter sigh in relief at the sight of his sister. She simply grabbed her dagger from its sheath, standing tall against the Telmarines. It was then that the warmth on my chest took form, a golden mane appearing next to Lucy. Tears prickled my eyes at the sight of the big lion, yet the moment was short-lived when the Telmarine in charge yelled to attack.

“Lucy!” I screamed, fearing for the girl on the other side.

But then, Aslan roared. It wasn’t a simple roar, one belonging to a simple lion; Aslan was calling the magic around him. Wind and water moved and swayed at the strength of his voice, the Telmarines halting at the sound. 

The tide of the river started to lower, moving to the side. A big wave was forming itself in the fast waters, something powerful becoming right in front of our eyes. I extended my arm, motioning the Narnians to remain in their place and not come closer to the water. The River God, right before our eyes, quickly destroyed the bridge the Telmarines had spent months building with several soldiers in it. The Lord that remained in it, the one who killed Miraz, was swallowed whole, disappearing with a cool mist. A few seconds of silence happened before the surviving Narnians cheered for Aslan and our victory, some of them standing next to the now calm waters as the remaining Telmarines surrendered and dropped their armors and weapons.

The tide was, once again, low enough for us to walk to the other shore to where Lucy and Aslan stood, waiting for us with big smiles on their faces. The five of us kneeled before the big lion, as we had done many times before.

“Rise, Kings, and Queens of Narnia. Rise, fierce Silver Knight,” Aslan commanded. Edmund, Peter, Susan, and I stood up, yet Caspian remained kneeled. “All of you,” the lion added, as his eyes were fixed on the prince.

Caspian slowly raised his head, his eyes twinkling slightly. “I do not think I am ready,” he lowered his gaze again. I smiled softly at the boy.

“It’s for that very reason I know you are,” Caspian finally stood up at Aslan’s words, standing almost timidly between Peter and Edmund. 

Bagpipes suddenly played behind us. We all looked back to see Reepicheep’s funerary court approaching Aslan, their injured lord laying on a stretcher. We all stared at the scene confused, despite our worry for the beloved mouse. Once he was put on the ground, Lucy ran to him, quickly fetching her vial and with a single drop, Reepicheep was up again.

“Oh!” he sighed, bowing at Lucy. “Thank you, Your Majesty, thank you” he was about to turn around, yet he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Aslan standing in front of him. “Hail, Aslan! It is a great honor to be in…” he stumbled forward, quickly noticing his tail was gone. “I’m completely out of countenance,” he grabbed his backside in embarrassment, while Aslan looked at him with a funny expression in his eyes. “I must crave your indulgence for appearing in this unseemly fashion. Uh… perhaps a drop more?” he asked Lucy. 

She stared at her vial with sorrow. “I don’t think it does that.”

“You could have a go,” he offered before he was interrupted by Aslan himself.

“It becomes you well, small one,” he laughed softly at Reepicheep, who wouldn’t stop bowing at Aslan.

“All the same, great king. I regret that I must withdraw, for a tail is the honor and glory of a mouse,” he offered Aslan his sword.

“Perhaps you think too much of your honor, friend,” Aslan spoke with kindness.

“Well, it’s not just the honor. It’s also great for balance,” the puzzle fit in my head, recalling how he had almost fallen on his face when he first try to curtsey the lion. “and climbing. And grabbing things,” Lucy shared a look with Aslan at the mouse’s words. 

One of Reepicheep’s companions spoke. “May it please Your High Majesty, we will not bear the shame of wearing an honor denied to our chief,” he was holding his own tail in his hand, his little sword on the other, ready to slash it. The rest of the companions did the same.

Aslan laughed at their loyalty. “Not for the sake of your dignity, but for the love of your people,” and with just one blink of eyes, Reepicheep’s tail was once again fully grown, surprising all of us. 

“Look!” he turned around to show it to us, excitedly, as we all laughed at the endearing action. “Thank you, my liege. I will treasure it always! From this day forward it will serve a great reminder of my huge humility,” he stood there with his companions, gushing over the great lion and his kindness.

“Now,” Aslan called to Lucy, his deep voice making all of us center our attention back on him. “Where is this dear little friend you’ve told me so much about?” 

We all turned to look at Trumpkin, who was motioning the Telmarines where to put their weapons. When he noticed us, he slowly made his way to us, his head hanging low, in either embarrassment or nervousness. He too kneeled before him, his sword firm on the ground, staring at Aslan shortly before lowering his face down.

Aslan roared at him, making Trumpkin’s beard fly on his face at the force. 

“Do you see him now?” Lucy humorously asked him. 

Trumpkin grinned shyly, while Aslan smirked at him.

I stood there, watching all the Narnians around me joke and smile at each other, the glee of our victory hanging high in the air. The sun was shining brightly in the sky, and the river’s calm waters allowed a soft cool breeze on my face. Winter nuzzled her snout on my hand, and I kneeled before her, scratching her ears.

“You did well out there. As always,” I pressed my forehead against her, unaware of the little audience that had gathered around me. She licked some of the dry blood on my face, making me scrunch my nose in disgust. I looked back at Aslan, nodding in acknowledgment with my head at him, thanking him for everything. He winked at me, that same mischievous glint in his eyes as we all made our way back to Aslan’s How, the feeling of peace resting warmly on our chests.

Next chapter

[moongoddesskiana]

I'm just thinking about AU where you keep elements from different canons for maximum angst as well as maximum 'you done fucked up my fave' because the writers really don't understand my fave's origin story

So Jason recently left the Titans (have I ever watched more than the first 3 eps no but I've seen enough clips and fanvids) and is back to working with Bruce. They are working on a case where the criminal has diplomatic immunity, Jason goes to confront the dude who proceeds to fall off the balcony (also for kicks the dude said that no one was going to believe that Jason had nothing to do with it when Jason tried to save him and he shoved Jason off) and dies.

After this Jason is forced to go to therapy where Leslie (whom he already knows and trusts) helps him a bit though he is still very much struggling. Jason then over hears Bruce say that Jason is being too rough and is going to be taken off active duty, Jason then runs out of the manor and into Crime Alley. Bruce tracks him down and they have a conversation like the one in Titans and Jason asks Bruce not to give up on him and that he had nothing to do with the dude's death.

Not sure if I'm gonna have Bruce believe him or not, but Bruce thinks this is for the best and doesn't realize how much this fucks up Jason and worsens his feelings of being rejected. As Jason leaves the alley but is still in the neighborhood an old neighbor flags him down saying they have some of his family's old things. Jason sneaks back into his room and goes over everything in the box hoping to find some of his mom's old things, what Jason actually finds is his birth certificate. The mother's name starting with an S but otherwise unreadable. Jason doesn't feel like he has anyone to go to and tries to track down his bio mom.

Cross referencing Willis addressbook he finds 3 possibilities, I'm gonna be lazy and say that Sheila was in town for like enough time for Jason to find her in Gotham. Meanwhile Joker broke out of Arkham and Batman's on the case and thinks that Sheila's job's local warehouse known to not usually be in use is Joker's next move. Sheila tells Jason she has to go to a meeting but to meet up later when Bruce runs into Jason.

Bruce asks Jason where he's been and what is he doing on a Joker case (it's been like a week since Jason left the manor only leaving a note saying that basically reads I know when I'm not wanted don't do a obligatory search.). Jason for a second thought Bruce had been looking for him and that he actually cared until he asked what Jason was doing on a case, Jason's sense of rejection escalates.

Bruce says that Sheila workplace might be in trouble but that he was also checking out another lead. Jason tracks down Sheila to warn her that the Joker might be up to something using her work's warehouse, she's like sure kid uh huh until he shows he the Robin suit. Then Sheila says to help her search the warehouse before her meeting which was to happen at the warehouse so that they would know if anything bad was inside.

Jason says that he should call in Batman just in case when they round a corner in the warehouse and the Joker is there. Jason (in Robin suit) turns to Shelia to yell at her to run when she pulls out a gun and points it at Jason telling him "sorry kid looks like you trusted the wrong person this time."

Jason is then tied up and beaten with a crowbar, whilst Sheila sits back and smokes on a nearby crate. Jason goes unconscious and Sheila is tied to the warehouse while the Joker says there can be no witnesses. Jason tries to get them both out of there while he struggles to move, they make it to the door when he hears a timer seconds away from zero while Sheila tries to open the door. Jason covers her body with his own while resigning himself to death. The warehouse explodes.

First responders are already on the scene when Bruce gets there. Sheila is alive long enough to tell Batman that Jason was a good kid, a better kid than one she thought she would make. The first responders found Jason before Bruce did, Robin was pronounced dead on arrival.

Everything is happening in between season 2 and 3 btw, well at least until Red Hood arrives.

Dick hears about the explosion over the news and rushes to Gotham, team in hand. They miss the funeral. Dick finds out that Jason had been missing for a week before that and is pissed Bruce didn't tell him. A month later Tim forces his way into Robin and gets assistance from the Titans who welcome him with open arms.

3 months after his death Jason crawls out of his grave, Scarecrow and the League of Assassins are working together (don't ask why idk either) and Jason stumbles across a meeting. Someone notices Jason isn't responding properly and they began experimenting on him eventually realizing that one of Scarecrow's toxins makes him less fearful and respond to orders more. Talia grows to give a shit and puts him in a Lazarus Pit before she is sent away but still partly in charge. Ra's says to drug him before he wakes up and to make Jason reliant on the drugs and on the League of Assassins.

Jason is trained up for a year before they put him on the scene as a figurehead but not really in charge of anything Red Hood. Jason tries to keep civilian casualties as low as he can, tries to keep things centered on ending Gotham's crime and criminals. He makes his number one rule no drugs to kids, no harm to children, no exceptions.

Two lackeys who drugged Robin were made as examples. Jason himself was still force fed Scarecrow's toxin every day.

The code name Red Hood was one of the few things that he had been given control over a nice little Fuck you to the Joker (still alive and kicking) which he had a do not engage order for so he couldn't kill the guy himself (not that he thought he would be able to even with the toxin). Jason tries to use it as a force of change, a force of good for Gotham. Sometimes when the drugs were wearing off he wondered how much harm he was doing compared to good, and how easily he killed criminals.

The league of assassin's pulls out of Gotham for reasons Jason doesn't know about, Jason tries to get clean while an imposter with meta abilities impersonated Red Hood in order to get to Hank and does Gotham harm. The titans have been in town for most of the time btw. The meta, a telepathic shapeshifter, bumped into Jason read his mind and figured Jason Todd would be a good cover for them while they did this and they could implant memories into Jason later and no evidence would lead back to them especially because of Jason laying low and trying to detox alone.

So yeah Jason still murders people but the stuff in the show making someone snap their neck, civilian casualties that shouldn't have happened and killing Hank, that was a meta in this because I can't see even a very fucked up Jason doing those things.

Everyday the meta tracks Jason down reads his mind and implants new memories. Jason tries to get help but that keeps getting stopped or people refuse to help him for the things they think he did.

The meta is taken into custody when someone realizes that that isn't Jason because either he called one of them or one of them saw him one the street collapsing. This leads to so much confusion epically since Jason has two sets of memories the stuff he did do (duffle bag of heads) and things he didn't do (kill Hank). In the process of sorting his memories the Titans realize how much they fucked up with Jason especially when they hear him say 'Arkham is to good for me, I need to be put down, I'm poison.' After hearing him whimper in his sleep begging Bruce not to put him in Arkham, to not leave him with the Joker.

Jason and Tim mostly get along and become siblings, but Gar is the only Titan who didn't really hurt my fave from what I know. The rest didn't really treat Jason as one of them and didn't try to understand him or empathize. I heard that Kori was also okay with him but then I saw a clip from 3x08 and I was like :/

Don't have anything else currently for this idea

[bellemorte180]

Darkness Becomes Thee (working title)

Okay, so I am working on this one shot. I just finished the opening scene and am going to share it here. This is the only glimpse you will get of it until it is finished. I am very excited about it and am proud of how this opening scene came out. Granted details may change from now until the finished produce but let me know your thoughts:

Hungary 1302

The rolling hills of Hungary burned brightly in the afternoon sun. In the distance, a stone castle appeared almost serene against the clear blue sky. Birds could be heard chirping in the distance, their songs holding a sense of melancholy that hung in the air. A cool breeze brushed the trees aside, sending a few floating to the ground, landing softly on the banks of the river that flowed uninterrupted. The river was wide and massive, a wooden bridge having been built a mile south in order to cross it.

The river served many purposes. People from the village used it as a means of catching fish for their evingin support or to sell in the small market that was located just in the middle of the town. Others gathered the water to drink from or to even bathe in. Children would skip rocks on the shallow parts near the bank. Some of the braver children would sink their toes into the sand and wade out into the water until their feet could no longer touch. For the river had heard at least a hundred years or so of laughter, children playing and the splash that came alone with such happiness, but it had also heard at least just as many screams. What the river had rarely heard was such silence that fell over its waves.

A small girl no older than eight sat on the bank of the river, gazing out into the crystal blue water. She was a pretty girl with long blonde hair and blue eyes that mirrored the color of the sky. She wore a long pink muslin gown that was made of fine fabric, for her family was clearly wealthy. She sat on the patch of grass just before the bank turned to sand. The branches of the giant oak tree beside her blocked her from the heat of the sun, allowing her to enjoy the cool summer breeze as her eyes never left the water.

Upon first seeing the scene, the man thought that the young girl was alone and enjoying the day. At first he wondered where her chaperones were and how could anyone leave her alone in such a manner. For awful things happened to pretty girls who found themselves alone. It wasn’t until the sound of splashing drew his attention from the small girl. In the river was another young girl but the man could not see much about her, whether she was pretty or well bred was a mystery. All he could see was that the girl was struggling to keep her head above water.

The second girl splashed her arms, causing a small ripple in the waves. Her arms would go up, flaying out as though she was signaling that she needed help. Her mouth would open, only to be filled with water and unable to scream. The man assumed that if he stumbled upon the scene moments earlier, he would have her yelling for help; begging to be saved from the current that was threatening to take her under. If someone did not act soon, this young girl would drown.

Instead of rushing into the water in order to pull the girl from her fate, he turned his gaze back to the first girl. This girl just sat upon the grass, her eyes never leaving the sight of the drowning girl. It was obvious that she saw the other girl but had nothing to provide any sort of aid. She did not appear to be running to the castle that was about a mile from the river or screaming for help, praying for someone to come and help this poor girl. She didn’t attempt to wade into the water in order to save this poor girl herself; most likely daming them both to a watery grave.

Instead this girl just sat upon the comfortable grass, watching.

The man was intrigued and stepped forward, slowly. His boots made a light sound in the grass, making his presence easily known. However the girl did not turn to look at him, her focus refusing to be broken from the scene. Once he reached her, the man lowered himself  to the ground next to her and gazed out at the girl who was still struggling to breath. After a second, the first girl turned her head, causing her blond hair to flow softly in the breeze. Her startling blue eyes looked at his irises that had flecks of gold lingering in them.

“She will die if you don’t help her.” The man replied, an accent that was unfamiliar in the village flowing from his cherry lips. Not an ounce of worry or concern flowed across her small petite face. The man gazed into those blue and found a void in them that he only saw when he looked into the mirror. For a second he thought it was his own damaged soul gazing back at him. The illusion was shattered the moment the girl laughed.

It was cheery and happy, a laughter that could only fit a beautiful child. It was a laugh that made it easy to adore this child, one that would have any adult wrapped around her finger. The man studied her and could see that she was well cared for, loved even. Yet, he could see something in her that he saw in very few, something he didn’t see in even his siblings.

A reflection.

“I know.” The girl chuckled, giving her shoulders a slight shrug. She turned back to look at the drowning girl whose struggle was becoming slower and slower. The man had experience with drowning and knew that this child was in pain; her body rebelling as it struggled to breathe. He knew that within the next few moments, her lungs would fill with water, her limbs would go stil land and her vacant body would float down the river banks, only to be discovered by someone whose remaining existence would be scared by that moment. “But I’m curious. I’ve never watched anyone die before.”

The man could almost feel a chill run over his skin. He was old and very little scared him but how this small beautiful child spoke about death was something that was rare and void of any hint of humanity. He could not help but have his interest peaked, curious as to who this girl was and what she would one day become. He was already preparing the ways he could study her from afar, getting to know exactly who this girl was.

“I have a feeling Sweetheart, that her death will not be the last one you bear witness to.” The man told her sweetly, imagine all the things he could show this young girl when she was just a bit older. She still held such little innocence that even a monster such as himself didn’t want to stamp that tiny bit out just yet. His eyes flickered to the girl in the river, noting that the sound of splashing had ceased and saw that the girl had stopped fighting. “Who was she?”

The blonde girl whipped her head to look at the river again, gazing at the now floating body in the river. Her head cocked to the side ever so slightly, engaged at what she was seeing. Slowly, she stood from her spot in the grass and walked towards the edge of the bank. The man could feel the bubbling excitement that she was feeling. There was a rush of adrenaline within the young girl and given the fact that she had not appeared to have a hint of remorse at her actions made him all the more pleased.

“Sweetheart?”

“Sorry. I got distracted.” The girl replied, but her tone told him that she was not paying much attention to him. Her blue eyes could not look away at the girl whose body was slowly floating down the river. The man decided to give this moment to her because he could sense that she was not about to answer him any time soon. So he waited until the body had floated so far down the river that neither of them could see her anymore. Only then did the girl turn back to him, making her way towards him, only stopping just before she reached him. “She was the daughter of my mother’s handmaiden. We played together often. She was going to be my personal handmaiden when I got older. I suppose we will have to find a replacement.”

“I suppose you will.” He searched her face for a hint of sadness at the death of her friend and yet he found none. If anything she seemed annoyed at the prospect of having to find a new friend to play with. Human life clearly meant little to her, only useful when it benefited her end game. “Tell me, whose idea was it to play in the river today?”

“Mine.” She gave him a look as though she was challenging him to say a word, a challenge for him to tell her she was wrong for what she had done. The man remained silent, providing the acceptance the girl needed. “She didn’t want to come, not at first. Not really. But I made her. I wanted to see what it was like to watch someone die. Have you ever watched someone die?”

“Many, many people.” The man replied and he leaned in close to her. “And can I tell you a secret?” The girl nodded eagerly, causing him to chuckle at the sparkle and curiosity in her eyes. “I killed my own mother. Tore her heart from her chest and watched as she bled out on the ground.” The man reached out and tucked a stray lock behind her ear, looking at how bright her smile had become. He could see she thrust to know more but knew that the one question that most would ask was not lingering in her mind. Why? The reason didn’t matter. Not to her. “Go on now. Go back to your castle. I’m sure that we will see each other one day again.”

The girl gave out another happy chuckle and skipped around him, heading in the direction of the castle. The man looked over his shoulder, watching as she weaved through the fields alone. He waited until she was out of sight before standing and walking alongside the river, knowing full well that one day he would come back to Hungary just to see what that young girl becomes.

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales Reviews: The Battle for Castle McDuck!

How to sum up how I feel about this episode.... 

Yeah that’ll do it. This wasn’t a BAD episode. It flowed nicely, had two great new additions to the cast.. but after weeks of really good episodes, warts and all.. this one was just.. okay. Part of the problem isn’t the episode’s fault as I went in expecting the answers to scrooge’s immortality, the answers to hortense we didn’t get last week, and you know donald and della actually getting to interact with their grandparents. I got.. pretty much none of that, though I did get some answer as to how Hortense lived long enough to have donald. But we’ll get to that. Point is part of the episodes baggage is on setting my expectations too high, the same happened with “Astro B.O.Y.D.” earlier this season and in hindsight, that one is really excellent even if it wasn’t the fenton episode I was hoping for, it’s still really damn good. THis one... even if it’s not what I was hoping ofr, while not bad it’s still pretty medicore. Let’s get into why shall we? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- We open at Castle McDuck, where Webby’s narrating for people who didn’t see the last episode set here and aren’t obsessive about watching the show like you or I. And also because this time she’s not so starstruck that she can’t actually speak or function, so she can actually get all the lore she wants in. The family is here because while the Druid stones seem to be working, the mists protecting the castle, and keeping it out of lockstep with reality every 5 years, have suddenly vanished.  Naturally Fergus blames Scrooge for that. I’m mixed on this version of Fergus. While i’m fine with chanigng things up from life and times, having him live and having him resent scrooge on some level, it worked better last time as there was emotional weight and a reason behind it: Scrooge and him didn’t get along becasue Fergus missed his boy and resented that his sucess lost him a son and made him cold and bitter like Fergus himself. It fit both men to just be too damn proud to talk it out. So while Fergus being a bit crotchety still isn’t ENITRELY out of character him still being a dick to his son for no real reason and given no new one for being an asshole to him just annoys me. The character last time was three dimensional, understandable and likeable. This one is just a bitter old man constantly yelling at his son and doting on his daughter. More on that bit in a bit. 

Downy meanwhile is just as lovely as last time: Since she lived long enough to see her grand children this time, I love seeing her as a wonderful doting grandmother to her great grandbabies. She’s wonderful and I’m thrilled to see her again. It does however bring up one of this episodes biggest issues: Donald and Della are absent and this time for no good reason. Last time, it was fair enough to exclude Donald as there was no real space for him in the narrative, and he likely , even if he loved grandma and grandpa, didn’t want to have to explain his estrangment with scrooge to them and break his poor gram-gram’s heart. That’s fair.  This time though? Their not there because.. frank didn’t want to use them. That’s.. literally it. They could’ve fit fine into the family fued narrative epseically since we’ve seen them sibling squabble, and unlike other adventures they’ve been absent, where they clearly just wanted scrooge to have time with the kids, or in the case of rumble for ragnarok scrooge had valid reason for not using them, this time? There’s no good excuse. Della would want to see her grandparents, Donald would get drug along. They only appear every 5 years. WHy the hell wouldn’t they be here?! I get trying to have character ballance but we’ve had several episodes this season of just scrooge and the kids. We DIDN’T need it this time and the lack of characters dosen’t really change anything. It instead wastes plots like getting to see what Donald and Della’s relationships with their grandparents is like, or their aunt, or finding out how their mother died or at least fucking MENTIONING hortense outside of one word and a photo. YOu think the fact their sister is dead would be important to Scrooge and Matilda but it just.. never comes up. Their niece and nephew never come up and my patince comes up short. I’m fine with character ballance but i’m not fine with wasting a golden opportunity for character interactions we haven’t gotten. I get we just had two weeks of donald and della I do, but it dosen’t make this any less frustrating or nonsensical. Having characters appear two episodes in a row dosen’t magically make them irrelevant or we’d be seeing less of Huey or Louie or Dewey and outside of last week, we REALLY haven’t. If they can show up once an episode why can’t their parents?

Point is a mystery’s afoot, and so is THE PHANTOM BLOT.. to no one’s suprise as he was both in the episode’s description and frankly magic being drained is his mo, this time using a portable generator. Webby dosen’t catch on to this.. but  I let it slide as while she’s the only one to have really met and fought the blot.. she’s also busy with mc duck family stuff and frankly while a missing mystery is here, given how deep the mcduck rouge’s gallery goes, it’s not a stretch to say it could be any one of them. Especially Glomgold, who while not magic is willing to pay for rediculous shit why would “dispersing scrooge’s family castle’s mists to bug his parents” be any diffrent. Or possibly replace them as their son because he’s kind of nuts and entirely made of stupid and that’s why we love him. And Magica has the obvious motives of revenge on scrooge, as this isn’t her first set of dead parents, and a castle full of mystic wonders. It’s plausable to wait and see who it is first instead of just assuming it’s one guy. 

And yup there’s a mysterin town:A set of mystical bagpipes of the clan mcduck that can bring life to where there is none. We don’t know if they can raise the dead but they can bring inanimate objects to life so there’s that. But seriously Donald should take them to his parents graves just to be safe. But before we can get to duck necormancy we have to find them so we get... (checks notes) a Louie and Huey team up again where Louie is an abrasive jackass to his brother for planning ahead, despite the fact he’s been proven wrong on that front twice now, and is entirely insufferable and has learned nothing about trying to find a quick and easy way of doing things depsit elearning this lesson 80 times already. 

As you can tell I hate this subplot and am getting it out of the way NOW because it’s not good and treads ground we’ve tread THREE TIMES ALREADY. and you did it right the first time, you did it okay if sloppiily with let’s get dangerous. Why this ? Louie learns nothing, Huey learns nothing and it’s not funny.The two just search for the mystery, and Louie is impatient. Though talking with a friend in a ducktales server, i’m in one now and it actually really helps with these, did make me realize that Louie’s character development has stalled like I thought... it’s simply a Marco Diaz situation. Like the third season of star vs the forces of evil, it’s basically a coin flip if your getting a well developed verison of the character that’s been built up over multiple seasons.. or a jackass whose learned nothing and treats other people badly. Their different FLAVORS of jackass but jackass still tastes awful no matter who it is. It’s not as BAD as it was there as while it’s not helpign the character, it’s not actively having him do the worst things possible, but it still makes Louie’s plots a chore to sit through at times as when he’s not well written like with split sword, rumble for ragnarok or tickening, he’s just a 2 dimensional greedy jerkhole and I don’t want to spend time with him. And the other brothers have had times of being written one dimensional, not going to lie, but all I get from Louie in these plots is this:

After almost getting his family killed, after getting scrooge’s fortune overnight with minimal effort and having everything he wanted only to learn, suprise, it takes a lot of work to maintain.. and he still just dosent’ get that the easy way isn’t always the way, and after the trickining and let’s get dangerous hasn’t learned his brother is usually right when he’s being anal retentive. This was fine in the last 2 seasons but too much has happened for him to get away with this shit and not come off as obnoxious. It just drags any episode it’s in down with it. I”ll leave the rest of the review under the cut. 

One more subplot before we dig into the main one: The Phantom Blot and his new partner, Pepper! If you don’t remember her it’s fine as she wasn’t named but she was the egghead voiced by Amy Sedaris who showed up for one scene back in the Blot’s first apperance and who frank said they had more plans for. Well we see those plans now as Pepper has been paired with the Blot for this mission as Bradford’s policy for missing mystery missions now is the buddy system. No going solo, despite the Blot really not liking any of this. Which honestly both fits Bradford, as he’s endlessly practical, and is just a good idea: most of his agents are kind of wild cards and have their own agends so forcing them to work together not only gives them better odds with scrooge, but prevents them from working their own angles against FOWLS better instrests. IN this case having the peppy, energetic and talkative pepper go with the closed off and dogmatic blot keeps him from going overboard, as Castle McDuck is basically one large magical nightmare for him to destroy and Blot keeps pepper on task and on stealth since, as we learn now we get to know her, she’s a bit overly excitable and not all that subtle, if not to dewey or della levels. She can stealth when necessary. She’s also DETERMINED to get the blot to bond with her and work with her, and is delighted to work with him, getting the job because.. no one else wanted it becasue the blot scares people and puts them off with his intensity, which he’s shocked about but really shoudln’t be. 

IT’s just a nice dynamic, he helps her be a better agent and she helps him realize he can’t do EVERYTHING alone and that blindly destroying all magic in his path, as much as he’d like to isn’t the option, using some runes to track them. Sure pepper makes their presence obvious once or twice, btu she’s also essential to the mission more often than not and by the end, even if they loose, we’ll get to that, Blot has fully accepted his partner. It’s.. honestly heartwarming when you think about it: The blot’s probably closed him off from personal relationships of any kind because A) his family got brutally murdered by the person he’s hutning and B), he has a mission he can never rest in. He likely wanted to work alone because it’s how he rolls nad i’t sonly through seeing someone who genuinely WANTS to be around him and wants his missiong ot succeed that he realizes he dosen’t have to push everyone away and allies are more useful than none. It’s a warped way of thinking but for someone with as much baggage as blotty, it’s progresss and it’s a really sweet story. HOpefully this relationship will go farther.. I mean strange relationships have happened than a dogmatic dog who hates magic and a peppy go getter both working for an obliviously evil businessman. 

So onto the main plot: Turns out Scrooge wasn’t the first person Fergus called this episode as we meet the DT17 version of Matilda! Horay! She’s voice by Michelle Gomez who like David Tennant and Catherine Tate before her is a doctor who alumnus.. though this time she’s past my time watching the show. I really gotta get on catching up. She played Missy, the female regneration of the master. Gomez is spectacular in the part here, and while I have no past experince with her I certainly want to see more of her work as she’s a delight.  Matilda is Scrooge’s sister. In the comics she was the duitful sister who looked up to her big brother as he left Scotland to make his fortune, sending money and mementio’s back she scrapbooked. She eventually went with Scrooge to america with him... but this didn’t end well as Scrooge took advantage of his sisters as help and when he finally did take them along on an adventure, it was his lowest point, going from an honest buisness man to a cruel robber baron for one moment and left him and his company. She and Hortense TRIED building a bridge with a suprise party.. but by that point while Scrooge had backed away from being a monster, he was still such a dick things blew up. As far as we know he never saw hortense alive again, and he only saw matilda in her old age with the two reconcliing. I’ll get more into ALL of this when I get to those pieces of life and times obviously. Point is she’s a good character.  And so is her reboot version.. but the reboot version did catch me off guard as, much like her dad she’s not really much like the sensible sweet woman from the comics. But given DT17 tends to really play fast and loose with previous versions of characters, and it often works out i’m not going to gripe about it: what  they did here works. As for what EXACTLY they did here, this version of Matilda is more flighty: not incomptient or lacking in charm, but due to sort of bouncing from one improable venture to the next and staying at her parents between ventures. She’s sort of a female version of Jubal Pomp, an itallian duck comics character who modelded himself after Scrooge, but dosen’t have the common sense or work ethic scrooge does. That’s really matilda here minus the looking up to scrooge part: she dosen’t seem untalented, just a bit footloose. She also likes needling her brother and is unsuprisingly her dad’s faviorite since she’s around more.  The two naturally get under each others skin, and we get our main conflict... not just because of their fighting.. but because Webby can’t help but mettle. She’s what makes this plot work: Webby can’t help but try to interfere because she dosen’t get siblings sometimes fight and have long standing resentments, something I relate to, and that stepping in or trying to end it sometimes just makes it worse. Granted sometimes’ it’s necessary, but in this casey Dewey, whose trying to inch her away is right on the money and after the awful plot with these two in SPlit Sword, it’s nice to see Dewey be in the right, but for actually good reason instead of just because the episode says so. Here he’s right that her getting involved will only escalate and her attempt to do so only reveals Matilda kidnapped scrooge’s pet hair clump and died it. She also has something resembling an emu.  This only makes things worse and starts to escalate tensions leading to some between both sides, as Fergus takes Matilda’s and Downy takes scrooges. Again REALLY could’ve used the twins. We do get a nice bit where Webby coaxe Dewey, who understandably dosen’t want to help her further spiral into her own issues by helping mend family issues she really isn’t qualified to solve.. because she’s you know... 13. I mean granted Steven Universe did this sort of thing at her age.. but given he eventually repressed his issues so much he had a mental breakdown and turned into a giant angst monster, and only got better with therapy.. maybe get some therapy instead Webby. Just saying. Therapy everyone? Therapy? But yeah she coaxes Dewey with a statdew, and yes she says that exactly.  This gets the family breifly united, as Dewey fakes an injury.. but finding out it’s fakkkke combined with Huey and Louie coming in just causes the enitre family to spiral into squabbling and webby to shut down a bit, with Scrooge planning to form his own clan after bickering iwth his parents and sister. Oh and it only gets worse when Pepper accidently brings some statues to life, and they get in on it too while Webby’s convinced the families over and she just wanted a place in it. And even if this isnt’ the BEST episdoe the show’s ever done, i’ll get to why in a second, I do like this. Webby’s nearly LOST this family once, way back at the end of season 1 when no one but beakly thought of her feelings about her best friends and surrogate uncle all leaving her after her other surrogate uncle you know.. said some pretty unforgivable things. She’s trying SO hard to force it to fit, so hard to fix things because she can’t stand them being broken, something I PAINFULLY relate to given my own personal issues with not being able to stand people being upset with me. She just wanted a family and i’ts gone.  Of course it isn’t and webby’s sad words coupled with some house crashers get the clan mcduck statues included to kick Blot and Pepper out and get the bagpipes back, while Scrooge points out it’s the good families that can withstand a squabble. So the mystery’’s gotten, Scrooge and Matilda are squareish... and this episodes thankfully over. Happy day! Final Thoughts: This episode is okay. I very clearly have my problems with it.. but it’s a fine half hour of television and funny enough to bounce through it with some good character stuff. It’s just after the last few weeks, and really this whole season.. I expect more. There was no real emotional core besides webby this episode and her issues wer eboiled down to “Families fight but it’s fine”.. which itself is a pretty uncomplicated message when family dyanmics can be complciated messy and painful. My family is thankfully fairly stable, if not without issues because hey no one is, but given other people watching might come from far worse homes where the bickering is far worse and far more toxic.. yeah maybe have some nuance here.  And this is from a show that usualy does that WELL: We saw it with Fergus last time before he was hollowed out for this episode and reduced to an angry dick. We’ve seen it with Donald and Scrooge’s estrangment or Donald and Della’s relationship: Family is complicated , messy and even good ones have problems. That should’ve been the message: family can squabble or even have serious issues but they come back together. Instead we just got a bunch of bickering for a cheesy message that dosen’t quite fit with what the series done. It fits for thanksgiving: family , the good kind, can last arugments and is there for you regardless.. and I know my family is. I just feel they could’ve done the message better. Basically the episode was fine... it just wasn’t up to the high standard this season has set even in it’s down turn and is easily the weakest epseically since Matilda really dosen’t feel all that fleshed out even though what we got of her was great. Basically not a BAD episode.. but it could’ve been a great one, and i’m disapointed the series didn’t try harder.  NEXT TIME: regular coverage for the year concludes as we go back a few months chronlogically to find out why Santa and Scrooge hate each other. IT’s christmas time ya’ll! Until then if there’s an episode of ducktales or another disney series you’d like me to take a look at, suggest it in the comments or comission it outright for give bucks via my direct messages on here or send an ask for my discord. Until we meet agian, there’s always another rainbow. 

[thecosmicjackalope]

It’s probably not gonna happen but you know what would be amazing for next episode?

Kiteman leaves without saying anything to Harley or Ivy, who are then left comforting each other about the situation. Both feel like pieces of shit and both are confused about how to move on. Days pass. Weeks pass. As the city rebuilds itself, Kiteman is nowhere to be found and there’s a wall between Harley and Ivy. Everything between them is awkward now because Harley still wants to pursue Ivy but Ivy is riddled with guilt and is still confused about her feelings for Harley and for Kiteman. The crew suffers through the tension, moving between helping them get through their shit and trying to find Kiteman. Ivy wants to find him and so does Harley, but there is still an undercurrent of jealousy from Harley because Ivy’s focused on finding Kiteman and won’t even talk to her about the future and “what happens now.”

During all this, Gotham’s abuzz with gossip about what they have seen and everyone’s taking sides (like how we all are in the comments sections). There’s a good portion of the population that are hounding Harley and Ivy about their “new relationship”, some people are spitting on Harley and calling her a home wrecker (especially Kiteman’s parents, which would kind of be a nice little way to nod at the fact that despite being assholes they do still stand by him), Ivy has people who are talking about how glad they are that she’s dumped “that loser” which fills her with even more guilt, and everyone is laughing about Kiteman, with some wondering about where he is.

The scene shifts and we find Kiteman out of his costume, grounded, without his kite, blending in with everyone around him and succeeding because no one sans Ivy has seen him without his get up. He wanders from place to place, never really going anywhere, sometimes dropping by old spots where he and Ivy had some moments together. He’s not eating, he’s sleeping too much, living like he’s already dead. He walks by a wedding venue and sees the happy couple kiss and look into each other’s eyes lovingly.

He forces himself to look away.

Eventually he wanders into THE PIT or somewhere nearby, feeling low as dirt, lost, confused. He still hasn’t said a line since the episode started. He’s hanging out in the wreckage and the waste, he sees a kite, or perhaps a little harlequin doll, or something that reminds him of what he’s lost. And he snaps, and starts stomping on it and having a breakdown when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns to see that it’s Bane. Expecting Bane to attack him or do worse, Kiteman - or, “just Chuck” at this point - welcomes death. Bane refuses. In fact, he sits down with Kiteman and the camera and the audio pans and fades away respectively as they begin to have a long honest talk.

Back in the city of Gotham, Harley and Ivy have one big argument with a lot of their ugliest feelings bubbling up to the surface and bursting out. Very harsh words are exchanged. They separate, leaving behind the crew, lost, confused and hurt that three people they care about are suffering so much. Ivy goes to be alone in a place she loves, maybe an old greenhouse. Harley goes to a carnival or maybe some batting cages to practice her swing. Each of them respectively are confronted by different people who have something to say - Ivy is approached by Catwoman who “had a feeing she’d be at her usual spot” and Harley is confronted by Batgirl and Batman. They all talk.

Batman talks to Harley about relationships and responsibility and knowing what you want and listening to other people, going off of his own failed romances with Talia and Catwoman respectively, possibly even acknowledging a budding relationship with Wonder Woman or Superman (or both, as, in a hilarious twist, their incident with Ivy’s pheromones lead to them questioning their relationships with each other and trying to be a poly throuple). Batman closes the convo off with saying that Harley has to face the music for the people she’s hurt, but also says that he’ll be happy to see her with someone who treats her right and encourages her to listen to her heart. Harley admits that she feel like she doesn’t deserve love and Batgirl argues that yes she does. She thanks Harley for some of her good deeds, and especially for inspiring her to stand up for the person she loves (her dad) and be his hero, the hero that Gotham needed, while Batman was out. And she closes her end of the conversation by telling Harley that no matter what she chooses, she will stand by her decision. Harley smiles and hugs her, and humorously, Batman gets dragged into the hug and hates the whole experience.

In their own space, Catwoman and Ivy talk. Ivy vents to Catwoman about everything that’s gone down and all of her feelings and guilt and confusion about it, and for once, Catwoman listens, without fuss, without sarcasm, without a word at all. When Ivy admits that she thinks it’s over between them and that maybe it was doomed from the start, Catwoman talks about her romance with Batman, how she always expected it to be doomed, caused it to self destruct and how very deeply she regrets that she let him get away and didn’t try to actually fix the problems in their relationship. She admits that she’s lonely and that she lives her life alone and that she enjoys it, but that it doesn’t come without problems. It comes with regrets. It comes with emptiness. It comes with too heavy a price sometimes. And she encourages Ivy, in her own aloof, standoffish way, that if Ivy really feels like she has something special with Kiteman and Harley, she should pursue it. She should be honest with her feelings about both.

So Ivy and Harley run into each other, and they apologize and tell each other what they want. Harley wants Ivy, and also to take responsibility for how she did Kiteman dirty and wants to mend her friendship with him. Ivy admits she loves Harley and Kiteman both and wants to talk to them both to see if they can all pursue something together, namely, if Ivy is romantically with both, and if Kiteman and Harley are okay with that.

But first they have to apologize and take responsibility for what they’ve done.

At that moment, Kiteman enters the doorway. He’s wearing his uniform, he’s got his things. Ivy and Harley are relieved to see him, but somethings wrong. They can tell something is wrong. He walks past Harley like she’s not even there and he talks to Ivy and tells her that he’s leaving Gotham for another city, somewhere where he can start over, somewhere with lots of wind to soar majestically or something or other. Ivy asks him why and he finally finally lets out all his hurt feelings. Without yelling or raising his voice, he calls her out on all her bullshit, stating that if she had just respected and loved him enough to be honest, they could have worked through it. But she didn’t. And to him, that was unforgivable. He says something along the lines of “ive been a joke to everyone around me since the day I was born. But I thought, for once, I found someone who saw me for who and what I really was. A person. When I met you, I finally thought I found my match, my partner in crime who I could spend the rest of my life with, who would be with me no matter what. But I was wrong. In the end.... I was just a joke to you too.”

Ivy is hurt by this and tries to apologize but Kiteman says he’s made up his mind and he just came by for closure and to give her a proper goodbye. Harley tries to apologize, Kiteman ignores her but does tell the others he’s out of the crew and flies off.

He takes one last look behind him, but he doesn’t look at Ivy. He looks at Harley, not with hate, or anger, but bitter disappointment and betrayal. And it’s at this point that Harley truly realizes what she’s done.

Since You’ve Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson, aka Harley and Ivy’s trademark wedding song request, starts playing in the background as a sequence starts to play. Ivy and Harley drift apart. The rest of the crew - Frank, KS, Clayface and Sy - all struggle with the loss of Kiteman. If Harley was the brains of the group, Kiteman was the heart, and without him everything feels colder. Life in Gotham goes on. Villains fight heroes. People rebuild. College kids graduate, and Joker and his new girlfriend witness the kids perform at a school play, with all of his goons in the audience cheering them on. Bane continues helping others. Nora, Jennifer and Catwoman pay their respects to Dr Frieze and leave flowers on his grave before going out to dinner together as friends (and yes, they all have Cobb Squad tattoos on their arms). Riddler still does his riddles but has started teaching a class for cardio at a local gym and is deeply enjoying it. The only job Dr Psycho can get is running and operating a Ferris wheel ride at the local carnival, which, ironically, he’s good at and he actually kind of enjoys, if only because it’s easy money. He watches as a short little girl JUST misses the height test...and uses his powers to alter the sign so she can ride, just so she doesn’t know the crushing disappointment he felt when he was a kid. (Humorously, When she inevitably falls off the Ferris wheel later, he casually catches her with his powers and sets her back down on the ground without even looking up from the porn mag he’s browsing.) Batgirl and Gordon play videogames together until something comes onto the police radio, after which they race to the roof to meet Damien and Batman waiting for them in a jet. Damien shows a flicker of jealousy towards Barbara, but there’s clear implication that the two will form a strong sibling like bond. Batman smiles at Gordon and Gordon smiles at Batman.

Gotham rebuilds. Life goes on.

But in the very last scene, as the song comes to a close, the crew disbands, and Harley and Ivy separate, with heavy hearts and too much baggage between them for anything, even their friendship. King Shark goes back to the ocean, ready to throw himself into his loveless marriage. Clayface leaves for Hollywood, ever hopeful that maybe someday he can become a true thespian. Ivy takes Frank and Harley takes Sy. As Ivy and Frank look on with teary eyes, Harley gets into her car and drives off into the sunset, and leaves Gotham city limits while crying her heart out.

And that’s how the season ends.

[gamesofmuggles]

Steve Harrington x Reader - Part 1 : Code Orange

Prompt: The scene takes place after the events of season 3. You are Erica and Lucas babysitter and you find out the kids are sneaking out of the house to spend time with Steve Harrington.

Disclaimer : we don’t own any of this gifs/photos (credits to the owners)

Enjoyyyyy :) 

It was the end of the summer. 1985, a hell of a year. Weird stuffs had happening during the past few months. Dead people, chemical leaking, and the mysterious  destruction of Starcourt in only one night. Hawkins had become the center of attention of all Americans after that. But it didn’t last for long. The reporters were already packing their stuffs and leaving the town. Soon children would go back to school and no one will remember anything. Like Always. It wasn’t a problem for you, peace and quiet were all you ever wanted. You were trying to make money before going back to college, by keeping an eye on your neighbors’ children, the Sinclair. To be honest, Erica was a pain in the ass sometimes, she couldn’t stop talking and complaining all day long saying she was too old for a babysitter. How old was she exactly? 7 years old? And her brother, Lucas, was a weird little kid, playing with his talkie walkie 24/7. Annoying af, or maybe you’d just forget how it was to be a kid. Now everything was all about money, having a car and a job. Yeah, maybe talkie walkie was better finally...

On this hot day of August you were listening to Fresh by Kool & the Gang with your brand-new walkman. Your feet were following the rhythm, skating on Sinclair’s carpet with your rollerblade. Being paid for this was not that bad. The children were spending half of their time in their bedrooms, not bothering you. Four hours left and you could go to the roller rink to skate for real, you thought, looking at the clock on the wall. 

Suddenly above the music you heard a strange sound upstairs. You stopped the music and took your headphones off.

- Erica, Lucas, is everything okay? you called

Please, please tell me they haven’t broken anything, not again, you silently prayed. But no one answered your question.

- Hello, I am talking to you!!

Still nothing and now you had to go upstairs to check if everything was okay. God, you would never have children. You knocked on Lucas’s door, but once more no one answer.

- I am coming in. I swear if you...

You stopped talking. The bedroom was empty. A comic book was opened on the bed, but Lucas and his bloody talkie walkie were gone. Same thing in Erica’s bedroom. Were they trying to play hide-and-seek with you or something? 

- Hm, okay. I bet you are under the bed, you said

You kneeled but found no one under the bed. No one in the wardrobe. No one behind the door. You moved to the window and checked the curtain. No one. But wow interesting, the window was open and here they were, running on the grass of their garden. A car was parked a few meters away and a man you couldn’t identify was waiting for them. 

- What the hell, you mumbled as the Sinclair was getting in the car

What the hell? WHAT THE HELL? The car was now leaving and you couldn’t move from this window. Who was this bloody man? What if he was kidnapping them? You started to panic. But the car was gone. Now, you were screwed.

You spent the worst two hours of your life after this. You had the phone in your hands, shaking, but it was like you couldn’t move, like you couldn’t do anything but wait. Obviously, the perfect babysitter would have called the cops. But you couldn’t admit to yourself that you’d failed that much at your job. The Sinclair, the cops, your mom, every soul in this town would know you as the girl that let two innocent children in the hands of some kind of rapist or total psycho and didn’t do anything. 

And then, like in a magic show, the car reappeared. Lucas and Erica ran back to the house laughing, safe and sound. You heard them climbing to their window distinctly and then it was the silence again. You could still hear the beat of your heart, tho. But your hands weren’t shaking anymore. Damn kids. They better talk.

                                                             ***

The Sinclair was looking at you, both worried and amazed.

- Come on take a sit, I made waffles for you, you said with a bright smile - But aren’t we going to eat with mom and dad in less than one hour? asked Lucas confused - Don’t worry. You can eat whatever you want. I won’t tell your parents.

After a second of hesitation, the siblings started to eat voraciously. 

- It’s good, isn’t it? you asked - Delicious, answered Erica with her mouth full of food - So delicious that I deserve a reward, don't you think? - Sure... - Okay… So you better tell me where you’ve been all afternoon. In details, you said with a deep and sinister voice.

Both of them choked with their waffle before turning to each other, with a grave and troubled glance. Wow, you were actually scaring those kids, you thought proudly.

- Did you saw us?  - Well yes. And I need an explanation, right now. Or maybe you prefer talking about this with your mom... - No, no, no, please, said Erica

One more threat and they were done.

- Okay, hm don't worry we were just watching a film at Mike’s. In his basement, said Lucas trying to calm the situation.

His sister nodded.

- And I guess you can’t watch a film at home? And you can’t ask me permission? Can you imagine how worried I was? I almost called the cops! you screamed  - Sorry, mumbled Erica  - Yeah sorry, and who was this guy in the car? - Steve Harrington, he works at Video Family and he gives us such cool film every week. This is so... - Every week? What do you mean every week? This is not the first time?

Lucas was now having trouble swallowing his own saliva. This situation was insane. These two had been sneaking out for weeks… with Steve Harrington. Like Steve Harrington from high school, the popular guy that all the girls wanted. 

- Well, you two saved your ass for this time. Tomorrow I will go to Video Family and talk to Steve. But I warn you, if his explanations don't satisfy me, your mom will know.

For a more dramatic look, you took back the waffles from the table. The look on their faces was hilarious. Damn, having so much power was cool. 

The next day you kept your promise and went to Video family. The children didn’t lie, Steve was there at the welcome desk with another girl from your high school, Robin.

- Hello...

-... Welcome to...

-... Video Family...

-... How can we help you?

Robin and Steve looked pretty proud of their intro. You struggled to contain your laughter. 

- I would like to have a moment with Steve please. Alone, you asked gently

Robin opened two round eyes, a little surprised, even shocked. But she stepped back.

- Good luck, dingus, she whispered. - Hm, so what is happening Y/N? asked Steve. - Oh nothing crazy, you know. Just you, stealing MY kids to drive them to some random house the other day.

Boom. There it was the same look on his face than the one of Lucas and Erica the day before. You caught Robin looking at you but she quickly turned her head.

- At first I thought you were some kind of pedophile, but…  - Holy hell, no, no, no. I can explain, I swear, said Steve interrupting you - Steve, what kind of person goes to a basement with little kids? - The way you phrase your sentence make it weird... But we were just watching a film. You know, star wars the one with the little bears.

Steve started to imitate the sound of a laser sword, without success. 

- Okay, well I should have told you, he finally admitted - Yeah indeed. I am sorry, but I have to tell Mrs.Sinclair and I am pretty sure you won’t be allowed to approach her children after that...nor any other child in this town. - Wow, wow, wow wait a second. I am sure we can find a deal, said Steve with a bit of panic in his voice

To be fair, he sounded honest and Steve Harrington was not the kind of person that was dangerous for children. It was just strange. And a bit funny, King Steve wasn’t usually struggling to get his way.

- Go on, impress me, you said - Okay, okay let me see... I ask you on a date. Saturday night, you good? - What do I win? - Well a date with me, duh, said Steve pointing at his chest

You rolled your eyes. That was presumptuous. You were about to tell him to shut up and when a bunch of kids entered the video club yelling.

- CODE ORANGE! CODE ORANGE! CODE ORANGE! screamed a teenager with a cap - Henderson what is... - Code orange Steve let’s go!! said the kid once more

You noticed Lucas and Erica behind him. 

- Y/N, what are you doing here? asked Lucas - Making a deal, you answered

But Steve wasn’t interested in you anymore. He caught his keys on the desk and started following the troop with Robin. 

- Hm, excuse me, where do you think you are going? you asked - Listen, Y/N it’s urgent, can we talk about this later? - Hm... No - CODE ORANGE! CODE ORAN... - I KNOW, yelled Steve at Henderson - You are not going anywhere with the Sinclair, do you hear me? you added - Ok, fine, come with us then. But I don't want to hear you complaining, said Steve reluctantly.

You gave him the finger but followed him. That’s not exactly how you wanted to spend your afternoon but after all it was a code orange. 

[elizabethrobertajones]

14x08 watching notes

This episode is the Worst I had to lie to my mum when I came downstairs trembling and tear-stained to get a cup of tea to recover, and play it all off as cold symptoms, and now I feel complicit in some sort of deceit with the episode and like Meredith broke the fourth wall through sheer pain.

Good morning, I slept in until seven after they started digging up the road outside at 9pm at night, so I still kinda have a lingering headache from that, but I'm pretty sure Meredith is about to make good on the Dean n Jack murder pact or something else of that level of awfulness so... *deep breath*

-

YAY it is Lily!! I mean it was pretty obvious from the costuming because wow she's a distinct person but idk maybe some people thought it was her mom?

Anyway getting a recap just of how terribly Jack is doing and then also a reminder of Lily Sunder is just.. Good recap. *kisses fingers*

(*curls up in agony*)

In all the drama I never noticed Rowena being among those who yelled "Jack!" when he went down and to be honest she knew him five minutes and I'm crediting all that panic in her voice to his absolutely ridiculous powers of being the most adoptable creature in the cosmos. You take one look at him and you want to make sure his shoelaces are tied properly and he has a glass of milk.

Anyway he totally caught Rowena off her guard and made her express an Emotion(TM) that was not spite and a good chunk of that is new and improved Rowena of the last year or so, but also just... She bonded HARD :P

-

Ironically I left the spoon in my coffee in my haste to get up here and start watching so now I will drink it like that and possibly exit the episode also wearing an eye patch

-

I watched a second and tucked the largest, most comforting stuffed toy this family owns under my arm. Yes, not my personal stash of friends, the family heirloom squishy guy who has been with us through all the worst stuff D:

-

The framing is Sam sitting at Jack's bedside, Dad no.1 as season 13 firmly established for us, and the dad with the closest traditional relationship of father/son to Jack. Then Cas hovers nearby, struggling to be as close but still Dad no.2 with the ongoing and uncomplicated connection to Jack in the sense that both just sort of accept they're now father and son without any debate or internal wrangling, and that's always been Jack's in with the family and the way he inadvertently got Cas to vouch for him from beyond the grave when he said Castiel was his father and Sam immediately just flipped to Team Jack, not, of course, that he'd not been giving him a huge chance and trying to reach out to him already, but that was his "oh shit this is now my son because Cas is dead" moment.

Finally, Dean fills the foreground, face in shadow, the conflicted Dad no.3 who can't even face his dying son, taking it personally because this is literally the fourth smol child he's taken under his wing who he then lost, from Sam, Ben, Emma, a truly tragic collection of lost children. He resisted adopting Jack because he couldn't be a parent again, not after what Sam put him through as a parent, and yet Jack, the most adoptable boy in the cosmos, eventually wormed his way under Dean's skin too, and by the end of season 13 Dean was acting fatherly towards him and by this season Dean's been opening up the doors and letting Jack be his son. And. Whoops. As SOON as you took him on a hunt for one on one father son bonding time, look what happened.

And so Dean will lurk in the foreground, not looking at Jack, peering moodily into some dark empty box that metaphorically is his soul or his remaining ability to cope with losing children or some such nonsense. The pandora's box of parenthood. He's full on dark romantic hero brooding.

-

OH  NO  IT IS A RECORD PLAYER NOT A BOX

-

I need our family to retroactively adopt a larger, squishier friend to hug in this trying time

-

Having archived every single one of my watching notes ever between last episode and this episode, I'm more than usually pained by Dean's "not meant to be crap" line because he's been resisting it the entire frikkin time, when Sam kept, even long long long before they knew their real destinies, musing if HIS own personal angst was meant to be and Dean was like don't give me that destiny crap. I swear there's lines about this back in season 2 or 3 when Sam is musing on his powers and the grim lot fate had dealt them. This is a callback line to Dean dealing with his own sense of unravelling control and pure panic about what was happening to Sam, back when that was a thing in the very early seasons and he was having to face the kid he raised from a baby amongst all that tragedy now recklessly declaring all sorts of horrific things about not being able to resist his destiny. Oh, also, in season 2, while under a murder pact from John about killing him if he couldn't save him.

Honestly, it's barely a relationship worth mentioning if you don't have a murder pact going with Dean. Ben is literally the only one of all 4 children AND CLAIRE who hasn't had one with Dean.

-

If this episode involves Dean bringing any of his records in to play for Jack I'm gonna go out in my pyjamas and take a long walk to the sea and then keep walking once I reach it

-

Dean you did not walk nearly far enough for Jack to not hear you thump the wall outside his room

-

PS: totally figured the promo scene was an early emotional beat between Dean and Cas which utterly delights me because the earlier that came in the episode the better as it meant less and less chance it was about anything other than Dean and Cas having an intense relationship over this whole thing.

-

Jack is the absolute worst about dying. He's this saintly angelic little boy from like, no later than 1900s literature, who exists only to bravely suffer and love with his whole heart. He's snatched out of an era when kids needed morality tales about how to die politely of consumption with the least amount of fuss for their parents and 300 siblings.

How dare you fucking die selflessly. Humanity is at its Bithc This Isn't Fair stage. Throw a fit. Go walk into the sea out of protest.

-

Okay you're in Kansas I understand how that is an unrelastic option and I grew up spoiled by the immediate location of the sea should I ever need to walk into it.

-

This show has never made me cry before the title card before.

-

This is the Pippin and Gandalf scene from Return of the King with the whole Into the West thing that they wrote for a sick fan who died before the movie came out and literally Annie Lennox sings what would be Jack's THEME for this scene.

-

Sam is horrified that Jack didn't even live long enough for a LotR marathon to explain the reference that's making him bawl.

-

I LOVE that this scene with Dean n Cas is just about Dean being a wuss about watching his son die because that's so much worse than Jack having asked for a mercy kill or anything. And this all before the title card. Cas tearing Dean a new one about going in and watching your son die smiling beautifully like a little cherub who can't wait to find out what happens next.

-

Jack's gonna be dead before the title card, isn't he?

-

Oof.

-

Hey, Dean, one more reason to hate yourself :) :) :)

-

Also robbed Cas of watching him go.

-

But I think tbh they could have done this if Dean wasn't being a coward about watching Jack die that they would leave Sam to sit at this side in the last moment.

-

Ugh, my eyes are leaking too much to type. What the hell is all this wet stuff coming out of them.

-

I've never seen a TFW shot where Sam was the shortest but he is slumped over like someone cut all his strings.

-

"Your brother's in pain" AND WE'RE NOT? YOU'RE NOT? CAS ISN'T?

-

Dean stopping Cas going after Sam with just a catch of his shoulder... Ugh. The two of them are still connected through all this in a way where Cas and Dean are connected whether Dean's in the most obvious pain or Sam is.

-

Cas, pls be selfish and in the most obvious pain at some point this episode.

-

Oh please don't make me watch Dean telling his mom that Jack died

please

I beg you

-

They put a photo of Kelly next to Jack's bed D: Or has he always had that?

-

That's not even the photo that Cas had pinned to his board in 12x10 and yes I went and checked, I'm leaking tears too much to watch because Cas is standing over him and this is going to be the worst while Dean's answerphone message lays over the top.

I'm so not here to watch TFW mourn their son.

-

They had him for like a WEEK this SUCKS.

-

ALso I said "please don't make me watch" so they cut away to Cas mourning silently while Dean talks to Mary's answerphone because Meredith is an evil fairy who whimsically takes your wishes and twists them into even worse options.

-

*takes my glasses off and throws them aside angrily when Sam emerges carrying a duffel over his shoulder and wearing the fucking orange jacket he first met Jack in*

-

God, I don't even wear them for focus, just lack of headaches. Why was I bothering.

-

7x10 and this episode are probably going to be unholy companions in this show's canon

"She's come down with acute Tear Duct Blockage. The only option is head amputation or we make her cry, NOW" "Don't worry, I have just the thing."

-

Dean this answerphone message huuuurts

Also explains the Buckleming issue of not calling Mary, to just say, yeah, it escalated, rapidly.

-

Your brother is storming off and Cas is broken.

-

If I have to see Cas see a set of PB&J crusts and a glass of milk identical to what Dean saw in 9x10 I'm - well, I'm still here instead of walking off into the sea so my threats are starting to look a bit performative. BUT I'M THINKING IT.

-

Cas watches Sam go, while Dean is being dwarfed by the bunker and obfuscated by its maze of corridors.

-

*presses my hands over my eyeballs* STOP. STOP IT. GOD. You're not even sobbing or anything you're just lEAKING. This is so annoying! I'm gonna dehydrate and they'll find a shrivelled skellington here and I'll go with just a few quiet sniffs and a dumb smile on my face like fucking Jack did.

Now I'm just distraught about the first time ever in canon we see Cas drive, it's in his dumb blue car and Dean's broken and not up for driving even if Sam presumably hadn't stolen the car for his errand/driving until he finds the sea and walking off into it mission. All my myriad fantasies about Cas behind the wheel of the impala and Dean grinning at him like yeah that's my baby (which one is he talking about?), and nope we're getting Cas's little partymobile and Dean's mute expression of grief.

-

NEVER MIND THEY SHOWED ME SAM CURLED UP ON THE GROUND USING THE IMPALA AS A BELOVED FAMILY HEIRLOOM TO HUG AND I SOBBED OUT LOUD FUCK  YOU MEREDITH FUCK YOU

-

I need the tissues why were they not here in preparation for this episode

-

I need to avoid my mum all day on the ground of spoilers because my face is a walking spoiler

-

"TELL ME YOU DIDN'T  MAKE A DEAL" "wha- no, I'm trying to make a pyre"

Making a pyre doesn't usually involve curling up on the floor.

Cas is getting an accidental glimpse of 13x01's emotional landscape, not that anyone will tell him this was what it was like for Dean, that we now have Sam in the spot of. We're getting some mirror image missing moments, like we just saw Dean get the axe out but did see him begging God... in this one we see Sam go take it out on a tree.

-

Incidentally I re-read all of Terrible Coffee AU two days ago for Reasons and the scene where Sam is whaling on a tree while screaming into the sky is pretty much this. Which is fucking hilarious that 2 years ago I decided Sam taking out his feelings on the local trees was a Thing when he was depressed.

(I wrote that scene the day Eileen was murdered on the show and honestly at the time he was mostly just angry on canon!Sam's behalf and I figured I'd come up with plot reasons later.)

-

Oh, they weren't driving the party!mobile, they were driving something else. I'm not even gonna ask where they get these vehicles

-

Yeah I'm harping on Dabb vs cars because Cas is talking about Jack's story ending like this and certainty of death for angels and this is just... the worst.

-

the story line - Cas deciding how their stories go. Dean resisting the how it's supposed to be of Jack's death. TFW want to take the narrative into their own hands. We KNOW in this world deaths are stored in notebooks, potential ways to pass that you skate past until one claims you. They're free to write their own stories but the ending is always pre-written for them... It's just a matter of which one. But Cas especially... Jack was supposed to bring paradise, and maybe the emotional landscape between season 12 and 14 is a gulf of difference in their openness and bonds, largely facilitated by Jack's presence in the narrative and relentless open love for everyone who was nice to him and even those who weren't in Dean's case. He breezed through their lives, manic pixie dream girl'd them to emotional health, and mayfly'd out. But that's THEIR stories. That's not JACK's story. That's not the epic destiny something as cosmically powerful as him was due, and the potential he was shown to have... It abruptly gets into the territory of Dany having her whole Stallion That Mounts the World prophecy for the son she lost... I've not watched the TV show since it diverged so wildly I couldn't hack it any more, but the books with everyone wondering if, like, Jon Snow was this guy instead, etc, picking this that and the other guy... what if Dany's lost child WAS the only one it applied to and the prophecy just fizzled out? ASoIaF looms over Jack's narrative... He's literally been framed against an Iron Throne in the past, and his character arc for parts of season 13 was a sort of anti-Joffrey in many ways. And then in death, GRRM's unromantic look at fairytales and heroic narratives comes for him too, that maybe it doesn't always happen like the stories say...

... but of course, he also has LotR coding, and in THAT regard, Sam Gamgee has his good old speech about the heroes in the stories and how we relate to them and are inspired by them and become them. The stories that matter. And Jack's was supposed to be one of those. In a way, their lives have been so epic that Jack mostly having a personal impact rather than a cosmic one seems wrong to them. That he didn't become the great hero of his own story, but was a tragic hero who ran a dramatic but personal arc and burned out because his asshole father killed him and his asshole uncle presumably finished him off with an experiment in grace transfusion. At least if my dashboard is to be believed :P It's inconcievable to TFW, the "making it up as we go" people who tore up the script and threw away the pages, that they can't just make this happen or that Jack didn't serve some great purpose. Even men as weary of Destiny as they are, struggle. Just because that was their lives, so how could the son of all three of them not follow in all his fathers' footsteps?

-

"Jack being taken before his time... Being taken before *me*" Cas shut the fuck up.

But that is the speech from Theoden, and once again Sam is Gandalf, which is fucking hilarious that Sam's been Gandalf TWICE this episode.

Ever it's grown on the tombs of my forebears...

you have four bears???

-

God dammit that joke didn't stop me crying as they go knock their glasses together and hold Jack's lil 3 dads wake

-

3 Dads Wake is a great name for a whiskey

-

God, Cas is drinking.

-

CAS.

-

They need to give him like one bottle to every finger of whiskey they drink but dammit if they don't get Cas loaded.

-

Letting them talk privately about how aweomse Jack was and not letting us hear it is a crime

-

Listen you don't even know me if you didn't think as soon as the nougat appeared on screen I didn't hit pause and sob for a whole minute with my hands over my face

-

Officially worse than bobby and the goddamn licorice conversation

-

Cas laughing with caramel hanging out of his mouth is the worst thing the sho whas ever done and I'm suing for emotional damage

-

Imagine being one of the bitter stans who hates one or more of TFW or Jack right now watching this scene. God, are you even human. They're eating Jack's secret nougat stash they all pretended they didn't know he had.

-

I can't believe I'm now thinking that Lily showing up will probably be a lighthearted way to bring up the mood of the episode.

-

Cas is offficially wobbly! We have Cas tipsyness!!

-

Sam tapping out first. Oh no. Don't leave. Don't.

-

Fuck you Sam Winchester how dare you canonically be the most lightweight of TFW consistently for the entire show and need to go crash off the side of your bed and sleep on the floor while Dean n Cas are still drinking together.

-

Did Dean seriously outdrink Cas.

-

Well that's... something.

I am gonna cling to that like a rock in the churning sea I have walked out into.

-

Also I managed to calm myself down with walking around my room taking deep breaths so I could go downstairs pretending not to be a wreck, so I could get tea, and my mum made me finish the sudoku for her. I don't have the heart to show her this episode. She loves Jack more than anyone in this god damn fandom and maybe more than Cas does. Maybe I'll lie to her and say the show ended last episode and Jack was fine hahahahaaaa

-

OH FUCK I hit play and there was a single line of dialogue for the whole wake. Dean drunkenly slurring to Cas, I think, you know we did everything we could, right?

I'm...

*walks further out into the ocean*

-

"Here's to you Jack, wherever you are" I am not okay.

-

Oh fork you Meredith we did not need to see the boy in Heaven eating burgers.

-

Oh fork you Meredith we did not need to see the boy in Heaven eating burgers while on a case with all of his dads.

-

OH SON OF A BENCH THIS IS THE DODGE CITY CASE AKA 13x06 MEREDITH YOU DINK.

-

Oh dear, Heaven is broken. Who was the ashhole who was saying that Jack should die so that he can go to Heaven so he's well-placed to help deal with all this nonsense.

-

LOL Jack would be the sort of person who goes to Heaven and doesn't need more than a second of prompting to be  like oh wait I am dead and in Heaven, and just, like... Go open the door. Just pop his head out like cooee I wanna hang with my dads anyone here to replace the bulb in the sun so I can carry on hanging out here for eternity?

Like, seriously, I'm dead, this is when I am supposed to catch a break.

-

Let The Boy Say Fork.

-

Listen, secondary to his power to be adopted by everyone on sight, Jack is uncanny also with just walking into trouble.

-

And to try and be clam for a moment, this is Jack getting pulled back into the story, but not just by unfortunate happenstance, because he was the one with the sharpness, the cosmic awareness even on this level that Heaven just doesn't quiiiiite work for him in the way it's supposed to even if say it was at full power, that he is the one who voluntarily not just understands instantly that something is wrong, but then is fully snapped back to his old self, and chooses to open the door, and that is the moment of choosing to continue his story, at least for now.

It's like how the last time we saw Bobby chronologically was in Inside Man and Cas and Sam woke him from his repose and got the fighting spirit back into him enough to open his own door and rejoin the story for one last hurrah... And it was a choice there too, a moment of once more telling the natural order to screw itself, Bobby could step outside the proscribed ending of his narrative one last time.

Unless Jack finds him and is adopted on sight today.

-

Sam looks way too healthy.

Invigorated by having a Plan

-

Lils. Finally getting to see the Bunker filled with all her stolen research notes.

And no that wasn't canon before, but boy am I hoping she recognises her research amongst all the bunker's angel lore.

-

Men stealing fuckin everything

-

"We've never looked through Kevin's angel tablet translations"

HAVEN'T WE?

NO

WE HAVEN'T

THEY HAVE BEEN THERE

FIVE

FUCKING

YEARS

And every forking time something comes up where they might be useful I say, HEY WHAT ABOUT KEVIN'S ANGEL TABLET TRANSLATIONS?

and the show says

hey so we don't have the angel tablet but we do have the demon tablet

and I'm like I'm sure that won't have any dumb side effects that could be avoided by having the angel tablet translation just on hand in your archive

did Meredith hear me screeching

because I screeched very very loud after 13x14

13x13 sorry

that was Bucklemming handing her the wrong fucking tablet

-

this is bitter vindication but feels even better than her and Bobo remembering the grace extracting needle in 12x19

-

Glynn is a fucking gift.

-

On the other hand this episode now is pulling on 9x06 and 12x10 at once and that makes me feel woozy

I can't deal with a Glockeybo combo

-

Also waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah Kevin's handwriting. I can't deal with that AND Bobby memories AND FUCKING NOUGAT DEATH

-

Which I mean I do feel instantly better about once he opened the door and let himself back into the story and I stopped crying at once and cheered up and Lily is indeed providing much needed relief, wild as that all sounds.

-

Lily trying to explain her soul magic to Sam and Dean, rubes who haven't done a single enochian calculation in their lives.

Wait, no, Sam has done one, in ... 12x19 ...

But yeah, a rube and a completely self-taught asshole who knows like one thing about it.

And she's like oh yeah just use his soul and they're like AAH WTF LILY and she's like er this is the most obvious thing in the world what is the problem here

-

where are my cas reaction shots

-

Jack wearing an eyepatch for the rest of the show would be adorable and hilarious

-

"it won't cost much... he'll never miss it" trust me his soul is enormous and boated with sweet nougat love, he can spare it, guys.

-

Dean being able to say "Jack's dead" one day later, when he couldn't say it about Cas practically until he was BACK

-

Nice trade. TECHNICALLY nothing dodgy about it at all, at least in the sense that aside from resurrection consent issues from Jack, once he's back the choice is still on him to choose to grow old and die as Lily has done, or even to stop using the magic to sustain himself and die again immediately if he is squicked out by it... Or it all comes from trading on his OWN soul power.

Definitely better than demon deals or having any favours looming over them etc

And with Heaven in the state it's in, honestly sending Lily there might be easier than they think if NO ONE IS LEFT TO RUN IT.

Er, imminent ghostpocalypse issues aside.

-

We're in ghostpocalypse territory as of a minute ago show time, btw.

-

Cas has quietly observed all this chatter and we get back to him when he says, "Don't you think Jack should decide for himself" so honestly Cas is right there with me, and I always like when me and Cas are the ones agreeing on a thing in the episode.

-

Obligatory reminder that Sam is more aware than most about soul stuff

*takes another piece of coal off the pile I was going to send Meredith for ruining christmas*

-

HEY, ANUBIS.

Don't tell him about what they did to Osiris

Unless that would amuse him

Wait never mind Meredith is literally throwing in amusing snark about 7x04 which I think when Adam Glass disowned that episode (despite how I actually think it's really good and he was too hard on it) he never expected anyone would ever want to throw in amused references about it in canon ever again.

-

"When God left - sorry, long story - " Lily is one of the few people who seems able to conceptually roll with the nonsense TFW deals in all day.

She should join the squad. Always room for a 100 year old badass with deep enochian lore knowledge.

-

I'm sorry has Jack crashed Kelly's heaven or is this a rando little girl. I immediately thought she was Kelly in the long shot and they substituted a lil girl for POV when we got closer and actually had to go back and look again and she was the little girl all along.

-

This also conceptually looks so much like Cas's eternal tuesday afternoon.. A rainy, flower-filled garden.

-

Roosevelt looks SO much like the doggie in 11x20 aside from anything else

-

IT IS KELLY

-

This is horrifying since they never ever got to meet ever until now and I'm suing Meredith

-

I mean I'm already suing her but I'm just adding this to the list of complaints. My laywers are working overtime on this episode.

-

FORK!! THEY GOT HER BACK FROM LEGENDS OF TOMORROW FOR A DAY!!!!

-

Can Kelly and Jack go on a rampage around Heaven to fix things?

-

Her hair is suspiciously darker from the back which I think is her Legends look from the gifs I've seen

-

Wait, Bobby had a forking dog called Rumsfeld, and Kelly has Roosevelt.

-

"Hi mom you're dead"

".......................................................... NOooOoOooooOOoo No no no baby no"

Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

-

Dean resisting the spell and complainging "gotta happen, no other way" is making me feel like the Heaven Drama is going to smack them right before they can get it all done and give them a LOT MORE to worry about than Jack but also give them a roundabout way to see him again and also, of course, mean Lily might be useful for an entirely other purpose while she's here...

-

Dean right now is rationalising this through the lens of that all their terrible deals have been terrible and that this is just one more step on the Winchester life and death merry-go-round, and of course that Jack is about to get the full family treatment he deserves. But that's the Winchester lens of looking at things that even when deaths are brutal and lives cut unfairly short, there's going to be a way to bring them back if they haven't finished their stories. John finished his, in 2x22 seeing Dean get the revenge he needed to be at peace, but everyone else...

Is it ethically right to put Jack on that merry-go-round when he smiled sweetly and died with as much enthusiasm as he gave pretty much everything in his life?

-

The table lamps are out in the bunker D: them being dark is so ominous

-

And Cas shows up like shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit something worse going on guys

-

They're so casual about just summoning gods into their front room these days

Of course they're doing it in the spot in front of the door with the war room behind in one direction... The opposite end of the library to where they opened the rift.

-

Sam picks his way through the wet paint but Dean stands right in the centre of this circle for SUMMONING THE GOD WHO DECIDES WHO LIVES AND DIES AND WHERE THEY GO to have this lil chat with Lil?

-

And now Dean steps out of it and corners her with the obvious question - what's wrong with your magic and why are you risking going to Hell to stop using it entirely?

-

I'm so sorry you have to look at more dead angels, Cas

I'm also so sorry they were killed by black slime because wow after season 7 that was a laugh and a half for you

-

... Can you swear in the hallways of Heaven?

-

DUMA LIVES

(probably "for now" though hopefully longer than that)

Ma'am are you aware you have a Nougat on the loose too

I'd love it if Cas is like hi what's happening also have you seen my son

-

This actress needs to come back for a 3rd time to follow Dean around in a crisis moment.

-

OH NO now Cas is coming to the heaven memory and seeing what Jack considered his best memory

-

YEAH. I knew Naomi would show up, I just didn't know when :D

(She wasn't in the credits as far as I could tell but I already sort of knew they were leaving people off? Or maybe I was thinking lol I bet Amanda Tapping is in this episode and they won't tell us... On the other hand she mAY have been in the credits but I was WEEPING MY EYES OUT so didn't clock her despite my efforts to hold myself together and see who was coming up on screen)

-

Naomi doesn't have the most dramatic entrance on the show but she sure is racking up points for good entrances one at a time each time she appears. She never just, like... toddles onto screen normally.

-

"Perhaps the angel side of him knew he was in Heaven" honestly the most tragic thing I was trying not to think about is that he knew the entire time but he was willing to play along and enjoy hanging with his dads for eternity despite that.

-

Oh man it's another dispute over who owns Jack. Is this kid never going to be allowed to just sit and eat burgers and nougat? (Hopefully not at the same time)

-

Also based on last episode where it seemed like the Empty was awakening but had Lucifer's eyes and we were all NOOO fork that!! is there some more complicated forked up aspect to what's going on or is it just itself and awake and coming for Jack?

-

I love how Naomi just casually knows how many people are in Heaven

-

"What's one nephilim boy against all that?" "But he's MY nephilim boy!!"

-

OH NO NAOMI

-

NOT LIKE THIIIIIS

-

We better get an answer on her state by the end of the episode because she's my fave villain bar Metatron on the entire show and devouring her in shadow is just... yikes.

-

"give it a sec" *POOF* Anubis is prompt, okay.

-

He probably honestly is somewhat slighted that they're 14 years into their career and he hasn't clapped eyes on them.

-

"Yeah, we've died." "A LOT."

-

I honestly, at this point, do not blame them for their lax attitude towards the permanence of death. They need a lot of counselling they're not getting and until they do they really are going to always be terrible at this.

-

A brief moment where Anubis is like, am I going to get Flirty Banter with Dean Winchester?? and he looks at him and Dean's eyes are all dead and "my son is dead" and Anubis sighs like welp not today oh well better luck next time, if I survive this...

-

Getting flirty banter with Dean is a sign of high honour and takes you to some very interesting places.

-

Into Dean if you stick with it like Crowley did

-

And Lily's been standing there this whole time like wow these boys suck up all the attention in the room and I kinda hate them

-

Oh I LOVE this abacus. Is this some nerdy ass research that meredith did to know better than most what to expect here? Even I haven't heard this one, though I haven't really revisited Egypt lore after the expected Egyptology phase as a kid...

Anyway the half white half black beads are super interesting in a wider show symbolism way.

-

Oh deeear, Lily.

-

Of course that instantly makes you fascinated about what would happen if TFW stuck their hands over it.

-

What a good line on the show's philosophy about making your own fate - it's not destiny or a choice from above or anything like that. Your individual actions get you sent to Heaven or Hell in the natural course of things and it's weighed in such a way all he can do is use his equipment to read which way you're going... Everything else is down to you. Free Will, write your own story.

Of course, if Lily did some huge sacrifice I bet she could change things.

-

CAS LAUGHED

ugh this episode should be banned.

-

If you hug Kelly I'm rioting.

-

Everyone who ever hugs Cas slaps their hands firmly on Misha's broad shoulders like it's law and digs in and I don't know if it's because Cas has this wonderful presence about him that even when you're around Misha acting him in the moment you get swept up in it, or you just want to hug Misha like that, but Cas hugs look like the most amazing hugs in the universe and everyone just GOES for it.

Also I am typing this nonsense because I literally used up my box of tissues earlier and the next option is stealing a roll of toilet paper. So I will snark and try and ward off the sobbing.

-

"I'm so sorry. I failed you." Kelly, who has spent about 5 minutes in Jack's presence and understands his nature even beyond her blind faith in him from before but now gets to see the evidence of it: "You didn't. You didn't."

Yes, please can more characters tell Cas that he did a good job even when things don't quite go to plan. Dean's drunken slurring about how they did the best they could, this...

Kelly tells Cas how wonderful Jack is like Cas doesn't know and Cas breaks up.

And you know what this looks like and I'm not going to survive typing this and can already feel my eyeballs filling up with water... 10x20 and Jimmy and Amelia talking about Claire at the end of the episode oh god I hate it take it away from me.

-

Oh good Cas telling Jack we need you alive to fix Heaven but just in a passive way where you not being dead means the Empty backs the fuck off rather than you having to DO anything

-

Ooops the Empty is here as Dumas. I suspect she's not surviving this episode but MAYBE Naomi survives.

-

I am saying with full wishful thinking after seeing her completely consumed by black goo

-

I do like the concept of "THERE ARE MAJOR STAKES TO RESURRECT THE BOY. BRING HIM BACK THIS INSTANT. LITERALLY SAVE THE UNIVERSE BY BRINGING THE NOUGAT SON BACK TO EARTH." because that makes it so much different from "hey bring me back and maybe accidentally unleash some terrible evil in the process but we'll deal with it later  because that's what we do"

-

"HE'S OUR KID" Sam snaps

I hate it, thanks

For the love of god appeal to  her more as a fellow parent.

-

Dean DIRECTLY EQUATES Jack and May

Hold me

-

Equating no soul to not being human in front of Sam aka our no soul test case. Owie. Another reminder of just how hard Dean took it in season 6 until he got Sam back, all that skin crawling feeling of being around him...

You know what? Jack reminds me of the sort of example nice ensoulled Sam stuff we saw in 6x12 when Jared was allowed to play over the top sweet and uncomplicted for a few scenes, just to be a total contrast to how he'd been acting thus far in the season. Of course, we saw him for like 3 scenes of Dean smiling in pure relief when Sam did Nice Things before it all got complicated again, and Jack's been a long-time character :P But Sam does have a sweet street that when it emerges in the rare times it can be uncomplicated, is I think the closest equivalent to where Jack's innocent sweetness is drawn from. He's the son of Sam's puppy dog eyes specifically.

But yeah I think Lily just needs to have this resistance and anger about it all to make it so much more of a flip if she were to decide to do the spell, so that it counts as an even gooder good deed to MAYBE flip her chances. By giving her a good work to do.

And hey maybe if she meets Jack for a minute she'll love him and then be changed by the experience and go out and do more good things etc etc.

-

DUMAS IS SO GOOD AT BEING CREEPY!!

-

Misha hammed the FORK out of being the Empty and now she has to live up to it and she IS.

-

CAS don't fight the Empty by trying to stab it, fight the Empty by humming this is the song that never ends.

-

*makes a disgruntled sad noise about being forced to see Jack laid out on a table in his cute lil PJs with his cute lil socks*

-

Wait, if Lily does this spell does this mean she's using up the last of her soul to do it and going to the Empty anyway?

-

ANGRY LIONESS KELLY COMING TO YELL AT THE EMPTY AND GIVE IT A PIECE OF HER MIND

I've just paused after her yelling "STOP" but whatever happens next, she leaped in when Cas was getting kicked around and that's BAD ASS.

-

Hitting Kelly is like... probably a rage button Jack didn't even know he had so I would like to see how that goes over, but we cut to them trying to resurrect him.

-

I forking love how this is 2 seasons in a row where the message seems to be that you live to spite nihilism and the bitter end of death.

-

D'aw even though Sam said they'd pray it was Dean who used prayer to reach out to Cas in Heaven to give him that heads up. Like, totally practical rather than the sort of prayer he's made before to Cas that was all emotional appeal, but, let's save our son, huh?

-

CAS NO DON'T SAY THAT

The Empty might also really want to think about that because it knows you forking suck to keep around so trading yourself for Jack is like... really? do I really want that? :P

-

"Not for years. EONS, MAYBE." Cas, bud. I love you. I want you to stay alive that long. Do you really forking think that with the life you lead you have eons left? I mean it's really heartening to hear you talk about yourself this way. But I have to ask.

-

The Empty telling Cas that it'll come for him when he finally lets himself be happy is forking hilarious. Cas hasn't been happy once in his life and he doesn't plan to start now. Eons, maybe.

Just like that, he's unlocked eternal, grumpy life. Take notes, Lily.

-

I mean on a practical level this is basically like, yeah, this is why Destiel isn't canon, because as soon as Cas allows himself to be happy, he's ALWAYS known he gets punished for it. In 4x20 he rebelled for Dean and was instantly dragged back by Naomi... This sense of another mission, never belonging, always being on the outside and not getting the emotional resolution he needs, and actively running from it at times or throwing himself in the way of danger to make Dean be happy without him... it's interesting honestly that the Empty is here as Duma and not Naomi as she's been the agent of hoiking him back from happiness enough times in canon... And that fear of losing everything as soon as you're happy? That's what first kept Dean from Jack and then as soon as he really truly fathered Jack, happened to him. Like, that's Team Free Will's entire life story, starting with Jess, to date, here with the Empty making this threat.

-

Duma survived!!

-

Cas... really could have just bought a few minutes to do the spell rather than given himself that burden >.>

But he's determined to make a more lasting sacrifice, one that ensures this won't happen again with Jack, that he can always die whenever he wants and go to Heaven and not be bothered here.

-

Oops Jack's angry now. Now he's seen a dad sacrifice for him, he's suddenly got a case of the Winchester Angsts. Dean in season 2, for starters. Not a good place to be D: Dean in season 2 is proportionately his worst season.

-

I'm not crying because I think I already died earlier in the episode, but that was... truly awful... to watch Cas tell Jack he's at peace with it and he loves him and everyone loves him and then Kelly butts in like I LOVE YOU TOO and mom him a bit with straightening his jacket and hugging him and... UGH.

-

Lily has either the start of a heart attack or loses her soul entirely in the background and wanders into a corner to die? Er.

-

OH HEY WE ALSO MANAGED TO GET THE WORST DEAN HUG SINCE 2x22 WHEN HE GRABS JACK. NEVER SEEN HIM HUG LIKE THAT BEFORE, DON'T WANT TO SEE IT AGAIN THANKS

-

Nope, she just dieded.

Let's hope she went to heaven and we get a super corny young Lily surprise Alicia Witt return moment at the end since this episode is just throwing everything at it.

-

It's Anubis' office!!!

Wow, that's a noisy annoying place to work

Still, I LOVE these visualisations of where the cosmic forces of the universe work

-

I called it super corny but I'm DYING to see Lily's fate change.

-

"Say hello to your daughter for me" DOn't make me cry about Lily please I beg you I am run dry

-

OH THANK GOD NAOMI SURVIVED. Hooooooraaaaay!!!!!!! Oh this is a wonderful ending to a perfect episode to not have to deal with her having being consumed and left dead off-screen somewhere.

-

LOL that slam as he realises what's up and even though she obviously can do what she wants, he's still protectively closing Kelly's door to put a barrier between her and Naomi.

-

"I'm here to thank you"

Oldest trope in the book, but I love when they look over their shoulder to see if "you" is someone else, and Cas, unflappable Cas, in Naomi's presence, still checks the infinite empty corridor.

-

*double checks*

"...... you're welcome?"

Wheee unlocked new plot for altrusim!

-

Ahahaaaahaaaaaaaaa Jack wrapped in a fluffy grey robe. Listen. I am

not

okay.

Jack with his burger and Dean's dead guy robe, spitefully living...

-

I bet Dean made the burger

-

WHY did I type that when I knew how likely it was to make my eyes burn.

-

I did not cry at the last scene of them all at the table so I am going to eat extra cookies at lunch as a reward.

And Jack and Cas sharing a little glance, knowing what Cas did. Father and Son's first dire family secret! :')

-

And gently roll the camera away to credits to leave them to their happy little scene.

-

Presumably with a slow fade so you can fumble for some more tissues.

Gyah.

[heterophobiclesbean]

15 Questions Tag Game

Tagged By: @allo-princess ily <3 <3

Are you named after anyone?

So funny story I’m white so my parents have been on that naming bullshit since day 1 but both of my older siblings have biblical names that my parents THOUGHT were uncommon that turned out to be common so my parents got to me and decided to get creative and did like a ~fun twist~ on one of the apostle’s names so i am named the “””female”””” version of an apostle’s name and it turns out its actually a boys name and thats why I’m gay

The name I go by on this blog tho (Bee) wasn’t necessarily after anyone except bees maybe because they are the true heroes

When was the last time you cried?

Today in class babes! We watched How to Survive A Plague in my public health class and the scene where people threw the ashes of loved ones they lost to AIDS really fucked me up it was hard to watch and also a reminder that Reagan’s grave is a gender neutral bathroom everyone should piss on

Do you have kids?

Nope and I don’t think I’d be a good parent so I’m waiting for my brother or sister to have kids so I can be the fun gay aunt that takes them to Drag Shows or whatever

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I am sarcastic like 90% of the time I talk but also I am REALLY bad at detecting sarcasm from other people I’m like a gullible little baby

What is the first thing you generally notice about people?

I don’t think I notice anything about anybody but probably their smile or hair

What’s your eye colour?

Hazel i guess.

Scary movie or happy ending?

I’m such a horror movie bitch I am an absolute BABY like I have to hold someone’s hand and shit but damn I love a good horror movie for a long time the only time I ever Felt Anything was when I watched horror movies and I will never stop loving them for being a surefire way to get me to have emotions again when the Depression kicks in

Any special talents?

My sister thinks I’m psychic because I can always tell when something bad is going to happen. It’s just anxiety but also like there’s never a time that something bad has happened that I haven’t predicted so. Also I think I’m really good at parking but I drive a small car so

Where were you born?

Good ol’ PNW of the US. Sasquatch country babey!

What are your hobbies?

I LOVE napping so I count it as a hobby, I like to make fancy pretty cards, I like playing video games (I’m such a Zelda hoe tbh, and a Pokemon hoe god I LOVE pokemon), when I can get myself into it I like reading, and I listen to music like 99% of the time so I consider it a hobby

(Fun side note when Spotify does that yearly music report for each person I literally spent a whole fuckin month listening to my favorite band last year. Like a whole 1/12th of my time was spent on ONE band so. It’s a fucking hobby to me!)

Do you have any pets?

There’s a family dog that my mom likes to pretend is mine because we got her when I was six and everyone used me to emotionally blackmail my dad into letting us get one, she’s an absolute goblin because she’s old and blind and deaf and very very stupid and won’t go up or down the stairs by herself, yells if she is left alone (alone as in not within 5 feet of a person) for longer than 30 seconds, and she has to wear diapers. This doesn’t sound like I love her I promise I do she’s just the absolute worst and complete pain in the ass and I DO LOVE HER but they should have just called Shih Tzus “Shits” instead because that’s what she is

I also have a cat who I would absolutely DIE FOR I am severely allergic to her but she is my Sweet Baby who I love and she has never done anything wrong in her entire life

What sports do you play/have you played?

My parents made me do all kinds of sports growing up despite the fact that I was NEVER good at any of them so I did softball, basketball, soccer, and gymnastics for like 1-2 years each when I was around 11ish and I played volleyball like 5th grade to 9th, and I ran track a few years in middle school. 

How tall are you?

I’m 5′2″ physically but people seem to think I’m taller than I actually am relatively frequently and I think it’s my abrasive personality 

Favourite subject in school?

Oh man I was and still am a huge nerd, I was a teacher’s pet growing up, I generally liked all the subjects but my favorites were history and physics I think. As much as I love English I think I just had too many shitty teachers. Surprisingly despite the fact that I’m a math major now math was never my favorite subject, but I was always good at it. Always hated biology though.

Dream job?

Okay so. My first dream job is an astronaut because HOW COOL WOULD IT BE TO GO TO SPACE also I’m a lesbian so like it’s my constitutional right but I’m not gonna be an astronaut lol so my second dream job is comedian because I think I’m pretty funny but that also isn’t going to happen so like if I had to have a realistic dream job it would probably be like working for NASA I think working for NASA would be super cool i don’t care what they want me to do as long as it has to do with space I’ll do it

Tagging: If u follow me and u wanna do this u should because I would love to see literally any of my mutuals’ or followers’ answers please talk abt urselves this was fun!!!!

[saints-row-2]

film watch day 31: Every Halloween Film

happy Halloween today i watched every Halloween film currently available to me. i couldnt get to rewatch Halloween 2018 but i already wrote about it a couple of weeks back so feel free to revisit that post. anyway, i watched ten Halloween movies today. It took around 17 hours. i started at 11:15am and im writing this now at 6 am.

so lets get to the post. for the most part i went in chronological order, except i chose to start with Rob Zombie’s remakes because i knew if i didnt id be finishing the day by watching them at the break of dawn and the idea of doing that was so fucking putrid to me that i decided to get them out of the way first.

Halloween (2007)

i hate this fucking movie. i mentioned in an ask the other day but im happy to repeat here, i dont hate the idea of expanding on Michael’s backstory. like the fact is we largely know his backstory, the issue is how this film chose to portray it. the original Halloween is frightening because its based around the idea that the seemingly safe, quiet suburbs are not as safe as they seem; you can be on a street youve known your entire life, only a few metres from your own home, and still at risk. the whole idea of showing Michael as a murderer when he was six is to tell us that anyone could be a threat, that our conventions that all killers are a particular kind of person is false.

Halloween 2007 says fuck that, we know what serial killers are, and theyre those poor kids who come from shitty neighbourhoods and have abusive parents and mothers who are sex workers. everything that Halloween brings to the table is fucking tedious, played out, and massively uninspired. it wants to bring us the truth about why Michael is like he is, but Rob Zombie’s only understanding of serial killers is in the cliche and exploitative. he has nothing honest about human nature to show us, only the exact same stories that have been fed to us by crime and horror movies past.

this film is incredibly loud and in fucking constant motion. even on steady shots of still scenes the camera constantly shakes, and in every other scene its always whirling around from tracking shot to panning over the scene to just idly zooming in and out of nothing. Zombie’s favourite shot is to have something large and out of focus in the foreground -- like some plants -- and to shoot the characters standing about six feet away muttering to themselves. every single fucking shot in this movie lingers too long, every scene drags a little longer than it needs to. this film moves with the pace that i would describe as “family guy gag”.

and this film is so loud. people are always talking or screaming, largely about nothing important or interesting. theres always music, but it never particularly adds anything; for reasons i fail to fucking understand the entirety of the original theme plays over mostly uninteresting tracking shots of a minor character walking around yelling filler lines about nothing.

the writing is horseshit. everyone in this film is vile, no one talks or behaves like real human beings. almost every exchange in this movie is the characters saying the exact same thing back and forth inanely, frequently punctuated by screaming FUCK as loudly as possible and talking about sex in a way that 40 year old men really really wished teenage girls talk about sex. Halloween (2007) is thoughtlessly gross and mean and nasty, disconnected from any kind of human sensitivity and empathy. it wants to be complicated and to be deep but its crushingly simplistic and stupid. the only thing that redeems it is that its not Halloween II (2009). speaking of which...

Halloween II (2009)

jesus christ this movie is so fucking boring. Halloween II is two hours long but feels like its about twenty hours long. i felt like i was watching this film for twenty days and twenty nights. i was trapped in an eternal purgatory with this movie.

i really cant fucking emphasise how boring this film is. endless scene after scene of nothing of consequence happening, uninteresting death scenes that add nothing, and Michael wandering around doing jack shit. Halloween II fucking made Michael Myers boring, and im saying this as someone who (as i repeat once every 8 seconds) has a tattoo of him. this film couldnt hold MY interest in two of my favourite characters of all time.

the big fun new addition from the first movie is the presence of Michael and Laurie’s mother as a kind of weird goth ghost guiding Michael to kill. i dont know why Michael had to be Jason Voorhees and be a mommy’s boy all of a sudden, but this addition brings absolutely nothing of interest to the film or to his character. its meant to be symbolic of fucking... something im sure, but it feels meaningless. somehow Michael and Laurie are both able to see and interact with this ghost and the ghost has an agenda to do... something? it feels about as intelligent and coherent as the bullshit cult of thorne shit from 6, but a lot less fun. at some point Michael Myers apparently has mind control powers?

not to repeat myself a hundred fucking times but this film is insanely unpleasant to watch. every scene someone is screaming, generally wailing “fuck you bitch” at anyone in their vicinity. this is two hours of people howling swear words at each other and not infrequently making rape jokes. Rob Zombie loves rape jokes! almost as much as he loves putting sexual assault in his movies over and over again for no reason.

there is nothing to enjoy in this film. theres nothing to gain. there is too much slow-mo and far too many strobe lights and absolutely nothing of any intelligence or grace. Halloween II is a thirteen year old boy in a korn T-shirt calling his mom a bitch while he draws zombies on  the back of his homework, which he will get an F for because the only thing he wrote was “reading is for faggots”.

Halloween (1978)

what the fuck can i say. this is one of the greatest horror movies ever made, if not the greatest. its one of my favourite movies. its forty years old and still just as chilling and frightening as it ever was. it has some shot composition and cinematography thats up with the best ive ever seen, all while being shot on a budget of $300,000. it does more with less than just about any film, launched the slasher genre, shot Jamie Lee Curtis to stardom and created a pop culture icon that stayed strong for decades. its a masterclass in tension and suspense, a lean-cut perfectly paced film with heaps of atmosphere and character.

i love this film with a frantic passion that makes me unable to talk about it in a particularly helpful way. i cant “review” Halloween. I love this film beyond reason and sense and you either get it or you dont.

Halloween II (1981)

Halloween II is largely one of the less remembered entries in the franchise; its a decent enough movie, neither matching up to the highs of the original or the lows of the later films. its a pretty enjoyable little film, created under the logic of ‘well the first one did well, lets do the same thing again’. Carpenter wrote the script but didn’t direct, and while the film has a solid story, the directing lacks his signature flair. its hard to pinpoint, because the film is generally fairly well-shot, but lacks a kind of eye for shot composition that Carpenter made look easy, doesnt have as much patience for suspense.

on its own merits, theres still some great shots and great scenes in the movie. and a lot of really cool kills; II got a lot more creative with what Michael was capable of, and i think the boiling water drowning kill is rightfully pretty infamous.

this was the last Halloween movie Carpenter wrote, and it was the film where the idea of Laurie and Michael being siblings was introduced. and believe me ill defend this fucking decision to the grave. adding the human connection between Michael and Laurie gives a whole other layer to their relationship thats so fascinating to me, and i love that other films try to expand on the themes of family. in general, deciding that this film would continue to focus on Laurie and not do what later slashers did with bouncing around between different casts was a great fucking move, ironically for a franchise that was intended to be an anthology.

quietly exploring the aftermath of the first film was a good idea for a follow-up, and i especially really enjoy Loomis’ role in this movie, and his discussion about who Myers is. the biggest disappointment for me personally is that Laurie lacks a lot of presence in this film. Curtis is great, as always, but the movie dawdles on some side characters who are too disconnected from her to get a sense of what shes going through.

all that being said, Halloween II is decent. the ending is really great, with some really powerful shots. Michael bleeding from the eyes of his mask after Laurie shoots him is one of the best fucking images in horror and him swinging blindly as Laurie and Loomis slowly orchestrate his death is a fucking amazing scene. i have an immense fondness for this movie, with all its flaws. it brings a lot of really cool concepts to the table, and i think it deserves some appreciation.

heres a question tho; where the fuck were Laurie’s parents. theres a suggestion theyre missing, but theres no explanation why and we never hear from them. did michael kill them too? hello? mr and mrs strode? your daughter just fucking killed a guy and all her friends are dead. where the fuck are you.

Halloween III: Season of the Witch

Halloween III is infamous as being the Halloween movie that isn’t about Michael Myers at all. when it first released it was wildly unpopular and remained so for quite a while, but has had a surge in popularity over the last few years. i think just about every horror critic i know now considers Halloween III one of the best in the franchise. and to be fair to it, its a great little movie. not a slasher at all but rather a conspiracy thriller, Halloween III is all about the mystery of what the Silver Shamrock mask-making company are really up to, and why people are disappearing. its a weird and creative little movie, with some really fucking great practical effects that turn it from just being a thriller to being an all-out horror film. it has a few too many ineffective jumpscares and some of the plot twists are kind of disappointing and feel a little too much like the easy option -- and then others are so wildly bizarre no one would see them coming because theyre fucking completely out there. but i kind of love that sort of nonsense in a horror movie. like lets just have a fucking good time in here for once in our fucking lives.

Halloween III is not a perfect or even a really great movie, but yknow, fuck it. the idea that only perfect films are worth watching is dumb. i appreciate the weird shit this film tried and i think it deserves a lot more respect than what it got; if it had been released under another title it probably would have gone down as a classic instead of being derided for years, you ask me.

now things start going rapidly downhill

Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers

Halloween 4 is when Jamie is introduced as the new final girl; Laurie’s seven year old daughter, after Laurie herself died off-screen in a fucking car crash. the decision to kill off Laurie came from Jamie Lee Curtis decided not to return to the character and instead of recasting her, they went with just having her… die. off-screen. in the franchise where the previous two movies were about her triumph and determination to stay alive. like its the casual thoughtlessness of this that, the idea no one would give a shit a character returned, that in my eyes epitomises how fucking little anyone cared about this franchise going forward.

man the idea of Laurie dying completely irrelevant to Michael… thats a lot. anyway continuing on his quest to erase anyone related to him, Michael starts targeting his niece Jamie for the three movies in the franchise. this is where the series started rapidly losing any grip on reality. while Michael always had some kind of superhuman elements to him (he took six bullets to the chest and survived in the first movie) these became increasingly wildly exaggerated. now hes crushing peoples skulls with his bare hands shit like what the fuck. first of all do that to me and secondly, it was this kind of slide into unreality that let the supernatural elements of the series creep in further until you end up with the shitshow that is Halloween 6. like it was the decrease in the impact of violence and human life that really fucked this franchise over.

this film is not great. its a definite decline in quality after 2 and was on the slippery slope downwards. it has some high points, primarily in Dr Loomis. Donald Pleasance is a better actor than most movies deserve and brings gravitas to a role that in the hands of a less capable actor would be laughable. his sincere plea to Michael at one point to just kill him instead of going after Jamie is honestly fucking tragic.

outside of that, the film isnt massively interesting. Michael himself isnt particularly threatening or engaging, and his mask looks like shit in this film. the characters in this film are largely very stupid, also, which doesnt help anything much.

Halloween 5: The Revenge of Michael Myers

if theres a Halloween movie people talk about the least, its this one. II has the sibling twist, III is the black sheep, 4 is the return, even 6 gets talked about for its troubled production history. no one has anything to say about Halloween 5. and thats mostly because there is fucking nothing to say about Halloween 5. it is a relentlessly fucking dull movie that pads out its 100 minute run time with endless unnecessary scenes of shit that does… nothing. this film is dull in a way that i find incredibly detestable. i cant even watch it through a haze of impassioned anger like i can with the also incredible dull Halloween II (2009). its just fucking boring. every single scene drags like its trying to walk on two broken legs. the plot is so bare bones its nonsensical. it constantly adds new characters and new elements but all that does is makes it more incoherent and confusing. watching this movie i literally found my fucking eyes glazing over in my skull. if this film was edited correctly it would be twenty minutes long. i cannot fucking emphasise enough how much of relentless slog it is. Halloween 4 was dull but even that had the lifeline of ‘some cool ideas’. Halloween 5 is nothing. Halloween 5 is puddle dirt water.

Halloween 6: The Curse of Michael Myers

if Halloween 5 is puddle dirt water Halloween 6 is just a fresh hot glass of piss. there are two versions of Halloween 6, the director’s cut and the theatrical release, and both are wretched. this film went full ham with introducing the supernatural elements, telling us that Michael was his whole life psychically controlled by a pagan cult called the Cult of Thorne in order to make Halloween scary again or summon the devil or who fucking cares. this movie is fucking insufferably dull, totally absurd, and wildly unsympathetic. i loathe Halloween 6 and every terrible, stupid plot decision it makes. Paul Rudd defeats Michael Myers by drawing druid symbols on the ground and Michael just gives up and lies down. theres a baby that does nothing and serves no purpose. Halloween is apparently banned in Haddonfield, which makes this more closely related to Footloose than Halloween i think. this film takes itself incredibly seriously while spouting nothing but total fucking bullshit drivel and i dont believe that anyone involved in this movie, from the cast to the cameraman to the guy who served the lunch had any faith in this movie outside of the vague hope it might make money and i wish this movie had been burned at the stake. also i hate Paul Rudd.

Halloween H20: 20 Years Later

oh thank fucking god finally some good fucking food. Halloween H20 took the decision to retcon all the sequels (except II) twenty years before Halloween 2018, proving that everyone knew 5 and 6 were fucking mistakes.

this film loses a lot of the Halloween feeling in favour of making a more generic late 1990s/early 2000s style horror. theres nothing particularly interesting about the way this movie is directed or shot, the music is largely very generic, it has a generally uninteresting glossy quality to it that studio movies always do. its very obvious this movie was inspired by Scream and it looks a lot more like Scream than it does Halloween. all of this makes me kind of sad, but other films in the franchise have proved that other directors generally are not capable of imitating Carpenter’s style so maybe its better they dont really try.

what H20 does so well, and the reason i love it so much, is that it explores the relationship between Michael and Laurie, which is something im endlessly fascinated with. this was the first movie to have Laurie shake off her fear and rise up against Michael, and while it doesnt do it with quite as much depth and intelligence as Halloween 2018, it still has a fucking good crack at Laurie’s character, and its still powerful watching her turn on the man who terrorised her for years. Michael is great in this movie too; while he has a terrible mask, watching him back on his shit as a furious force of nature who wants nothing more than to destroy anyone who gets in his way.

honestly i kind of enjoy having a Halloween in a different style; theres something fun about seeing characters recontextualised and done with justice and empathy. most of the Halloween sequels before this one (and after, looking at Resurrection) are shallow, unconcerned with any kind of emotional depth or personality. and while a lot of the stock filler characters in H20 who are lined up for the chopping block arent that interesting and dont particularly standout, watching Jamie Lee Curtis’ performance and seeing her interplay with Michael is enough. and most of the side characters arent particularly annoying, which is more than i can say for half this franchise.

this film also has what is one of my absolute favourite endings in a movie ever; the final confrontation between Michael and Laurie has a particular interaction between them that i absolutely adore and that alone is enough to make this movie one of my favourites.

H20 isnt perfect; it weirdly feels like a blueprint that Halloween 2018 would later refine into a better movie, but the idea its going to be completely disregarded for Halloween 2018 in the future makes me a little sad. in the face of so many fucking mediocre and awful Halloween sequels it did the right thing in trying to focus on what actually mattered; the connection between Michael and Laurie, although i dont feel like it succeeded in making Michael as scary as 2018 would much later. that said, the shot where Michael and Laurie just stare at each other through the glass of a window? that gives me chills every time. and hearing the Halloween theme kick in as Laurie marches off into the school with an axe looking for Michael is so fucking triumphant.

i love H20 even if Michael’s mask looks like his hair was dunked in a bucket of water and then gently blow-dried. i have no idea why it looks so fucking stupid in this movie. why is it so hard to get Michael’s mask right. you wouldnt think it was that fucking hard. anyway, i really fucking love Laurie Strode a lot, which didnt help to make Resurrection any easier to swallow.

Halloween: Resurrection

so whats the obvious thing to do after you have a movie where the power and emotion all comes from the emotional catharsis of seeing a woman get her vengeance on her tormentor? you, uh, make a sequel in which she is immediately defeated and pointlessly killed after its revealed her victory at the end of the previous film was entirely false, and then you never return to focus on her and instead introduce a horde of entirely uninteresting stock characters. yeah, makes sense.

Resurrection is fucking incredibly stupid, in the kind of fucking hysterical way only really bad horror movies can capture. theres absolutely nothing of Halloween in this other than the presence of Michael, who just as easily could have been replaced with anyone or anything. the story has a group of people on a reality show staying in the Myers house to… stay there? its not entirely clear what the challenge is meant to be, other than to just be inside the house, which i imagine gets to be pretty dull viewing pretty quickly. theres no suggestion theyre like, hunting for ghosts or something along those lines, theyre just… looking at stuff.

Michael slopes around this movie like he doesnt fucking understand where he is or whats going on, an entirely out of place relic of better times past while the cast cavorts around him doing nothing of interest and having no plots or characterisation to speak of. the film has exactly two or three funny moments, including the legendary ‘Michael Myers getting electrocuted in the dick by Busta Rhymes’, but youre way, way better off just looking that up on youtube instead of watching this movie. there is an hour of pointless plot development about characters no one cares about until Michael starts fucking killing people. this movie shouldnt exist and we should all go back to pretending it doesnt.

and thats it. thats all the halloween films. i can die now.

[yukiwrites]

Surprise, Ryoma!

Thank you so much for commissioning me again, @xpegasusuniverse! This one was so much fun to write, I hope you like it! :D

Summary: Ryoma had been out of contact for months during his stay with the Chevois resistance. Now that everyone is together again, how is he going to react to all of his siblings’ choices in marriage partners?

Commission info HERE and HERE!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Dusk was finally covering Cheve like a blanket, a day of fighting over. The nohrian army had retreated thanks to the combined forces of the chevois resistance's knights, their concealed tactician and the hoshidan army, led by their lost prince, Corrin.

After the battle was done, Corrin approached the blonde wyvern rider who ambushed the nohrians, forcing them to retreat at the last minute. "Thank you stranger. I'm not sure what would have happened if you hadn't arrived."

The knight jumped off of her wyvern and grinned. "No problem. I'm Scarlet, by the way."

The woman named Scarlet then explained that she was part of a resistance against Garon's oppressive reach, despite them living in nohrian soil. The knight who helped her and guided their swords simply crossed his arms beside her and silently chuckled.

"Heh, heh..." He couldn't help himself -- everyone was acting as though he was a stranger and were all so polite: even his retainer Saizo was mostly keeping to himself, though his watchful eye certainly looked for his master.

Noticing the low laugh, Corrin approached the knight, feeling somewhat closer to him than before. "Oh, and you're the brave soldier who was first on the scene. You weren't scared at all, were you? I wish I could say we were as brave."

The knight laughed louder this time. "You still don't know who I am, do you?"

Corrin tilted his head to the side in confusion, though his siblings and servants behind him all widened their eyes and covered their mouths in surprise. Before they could voice their reaction, however, the knight took off his helmet.

"Haha! Thanks for coming all the way here to my aid, Corrin." Ryoma smiled, wiping the sweat off of his face with the back of his arm, huffing with delight for finally being free from that suffocating helmet.

"Ryoma!" He gasped in surprise, "boy, are we glad to see you!" He meant to hug his brother instinctively, but his sisters were faster.

Sakura threw herself into Ryoma's arms, tears fresh in her eyes. "B-big brother! We were s-so worried about you!" She sniffled. Hinoka put both hands on her waist.

"Don't go on scaring us like that, Ryoma." She scowled, but then smiled. Ryoma disheveled her hair with one hand as he patted Sakura's back with the other.

"Forgive me for worrying you both so, Sisters. However we now have our way into the nohrian soil, as well as trained guides! Come, let us head back to the resistance's base." He nodded to Scarlet beside him, who gestured back and turned to her soldiers.

"Men! Clean this mess up and let's meet back at our base! Tonight we eat and drink 'till we drop!" She laughed, raising her spear. That rared the men into a loud cheer.

"Hah, for a nohrian, it's surprising that she knows how to rally her men" Takumi remarked as he crossed his arms, following his brother's lead. He wasn't particularly worried about him, mind, but it's always good knowing that he was okay, after all.

"Ugh, too true. I don't even see what's so great about it all." Oboro concurred beside him, both talking in whispers as they started getting used to in the past few months. "Your leadership is never gonna be toppled, Takumi-- I-I mean," she blushed for a second, coughing so as to clear her throat. "Lord Takumi."

The prince covered his mouth with his hand, trying to hide his own red cheeks. "Gee, yell it all to the world, will you?" He looked away, slightly embarrassed. Their relationship wasn't really a secret, but they didn't go out of their way to tell everyone, either.

But Takumi knew he had to inform his brother, at least. As High Prince and all, Ryoma was the one responsible for his and his siblings' betrotheds.

Such thoughts occurred to every one of the siblings -- even Azura, if she might be so bold to think of herself as family as they insisted to -- for they all had already chosen their significant other.

Hinoka stole glances behind her back towards Silas, who was possibly the most nervous man alive at that moment: He was bright red and his entire body was stiff, making the walk a strenuous one at best. The eldest princess snorted after their eyes met, then turned back to her brother.

"Hm? What's wrong, Hinoka?" Ryoma asked, in the middle of his two sisters. The red-haired princess shook her head.

"I'll tell you later."

Sakura, being the youngest one, felt her palms sweat and her heart beat uncontrollably inside her chest. She didn't feel like she did something wrong, no, because she loved her Hayato very much, but agreeing to marry the future Leader of the Wind Tribe behind her brother's back? What if it was too big of a diplomatic measure? What if he didn't allow it because she was too young (despite already having had her coming of age ceremony)? What ifs, what ifs... Her head was spinning.

Suddenly, she felt someone grab her hand. "Forgive me, Lord Ryoma, but may I borrow Princess Sakura for a bit?" Hayato approached from behind, knowing his beloved too well. The moment she turned to him, his fears ended up being true: she was on the verge of an anxious attack, but seeing him filled her chest with warmth and strength.

"Of course. Hayato from the Wind Tribe, was it? I have heard how much you've helped my siblings and I would like to thank you in their behalf." Ryoma gave Hayato a head nod, which was reciprocated. "I am in your debt."

The young man smirked, glancing at the shivering Sakura before turning back to Ryoma. "We'll see who's indebted to whom later, my Lord. Now, if you may." He bowed and pulled Sakura by her hand.

Ryoma watched as they went to the rear of the march, then simply turned back to leading the way. They look like they're the same age, he thought with a far-off smile. I'm glad little Sakura managed to make a new friend.

"You weren't hurt, right, Rinkah?" Corrin walked close to the warrior, nudging their shoulders. Her entire face reddened.

"Wha- Don't get so close to me like that in public!" She whispered gravely, taking two steps back. "How shameless!" She coughed, turning her head away.

Corrin smiled, never getting tired of how ironically reserved a woman from the Fire Tribe was. "Forgive me, I was just worried."

"Well, worry no more." She crossed her arms, resuming the walk. "Do you think I'd lower myself to be hurt by nohrians again? I'm stronger than I was when we first met!"

"Of course, I believe you." He nodded, then slightly covered the gap between them, staying at a reasonable distance away from her. "I just can't help it."

Rinkah blushed ever more, unable to tear her eyes away from that stupidly cute and puppy faced prince she promised her future to. "A-alright, alright! But I'm fine, see? So stop worrying and... get... farther." She stuttered, pressing her lips into a thin line. "I can't concentrate if you're walking so close to me."

For someone so passionate when they were alone, Rinkah was very reserved whenever there were people anywhere near their sights. It was something Corrin had also grown to love about her, so he respected her wishes and walked a bit farther, the smile never leaving his face.

Azura walked in silence behind them, glad that her beloved didn't have a chance to battle that time. She held her lance with one hand, the other one tightly clutching her heart, a bubbly happiness filling it just from being close to him.

Though Kaden was walking amongst the younger soldiers (and just pestering Hayato in general, making Sakura laugh), it reassured Azura that his smile was so carefree. It somehow freed her from her own worries and anxieties; making her even dare to hope to live a life after the war alongside him.

As though being summoned, Kaden looked at her in the distance and waved, the big smile splattered across his face. Azura giggled, covering her face with one hand before shyly waving back. She would protect that happiness with everything she had, and hopefully Ryoma wouldn't pose a threat to it once he found out about all other proposals their siblings had accepted.

Unaware of the small hints of his brothers and sisters all around him, Ryoma led the way with a confident smile and a level heart. His family had been reunited and the wind of that war was finally blowing in their favor. Everything couldn't be better.

"Welcome to the Cheve Underground. This is where the resistance meets. We should be safe here for the time being." He opened the door to a well0lit and clean facility; it was made out of stone and covered in nohrian decoration. Both Takumi and Oboro groaned between themselves.

"If we stay here for more than one hour I might vomit." She said, then added: "No, if we stay here for more than one day I'll take it upon myself to redecorate this entire thing."

"I'll leave it to you." He nudged her arm, both of them smiling. Then they giggled amongst themselves.

"Hum. Not bad." Rinkah crossed her arms and looked up. "We have our share of underground bases back at the Fire Tribe, but this one looks like it could hold any attack from aboveground."

"Indeed it can, Rinkah." Ryoma turned to her after formally introducing himself to a stunned Scarlet who had been unaware of his royal status until that moment. "It is also connected to a myriad of tunnels, making our movements easier and unpredictable for the nohrian forces."

"That sounds pretty good." Hinoka nodded, then patted Silas on the shoulder. He had just walked in and tried to avoid her general location (since she was close to Ryoma), but she couldn't help it. "We also have someone who knows the territory deeper in Nohr, so I'm sure we'll put an end to this war even quicker now."

"Ah, so you are the nohrian knight who followed Corrin." Ryoma spared Silas a head nod, still not fully comfortable with the man's presence, but acknowledging his loyalty, at least. If both Corrin and Hinoka vouched for his competence, Ryoma could be more at ease, though still no less mindful of the man.

"Ah, um, y-yes, I'm Silas, my Lord." The poor knight blushed and bowed his head as Ryoma turned to lead them to the mess hall, then puffed his cheek as Hinoka nudged his arm. "That was mean, Hinoka! I'm still not ready for this..." He breathed out, putting one hand over his chest.

"Haha, it'll be okay, Silas. I'll hold your hand." She winked, then followed her brother.

Soon after, they were sitting around a large table with Ryoma at the leftmost corner, being able to watch how everyone chose their seats.

It was then that he couldn't help but find it strange how their siblings weren't just sitting around themselves, but had other people between them as well. Namely: How strange it was that Hayato and Sakura had their shoulders so close to one another and shared their sweet side dishes with each other. How odd that Oboro sat beside Takumi and not behind him as she usually did. She was simply his retainer, after all, right? And why was Corrin having so much fun putting his own sweet side dishes over Rinkah's plate and smiling so much after she scolded him with the reddest face Ryoma has ever seen?

Kaden sat so close to Azura he used the tip of his tail to take a bit of food that stuck on her face, as though that was the normal thing to do. Ryoma frowned at all these unthinkable displays of intimacy right there on the dining table, like they were used to it. But the most upsetting thing, apart from all of the others, was that Hinoka, as the elder sister, sat at Ryoma's left and somehow had pulled that knight from earlier, Silas, he believed, to sit right beside her!

What was going on?!

Sure, he had made an alliance with the chevois, who were nohrian people, but he didn't start sharing their table, their seats and the head of their families' inner circle! What was that audacity he was witnessing?

Ryoma felt his heart rilling up with these small gestures, his hand shaking the chopsticks he held, almost breaking them in half.

Hinoka laughed beside him, having fun at how Silas still haven't mastered how to eat with chopsticks yet. "We're in Nohr, you know. You can eat with the forks they have around here if you want." She teased, taking a mouthful of her own food. Silas' hands trembled as he tried to do the same, almost failing in putting the food into his mouth.

"I... must be able to do at least this... if I want..." He was so focused on the task at hand he momentarily forgot her was at Ryoma's earshot. "If I want to ask your hand and make you happy." He said, then smiled when he managed to eat without dropping a single rice grain.

"If you want WHAT?" Ryoma got on his feet, instantly disgusted at the words and the vile intention of that nohrian of simply considering asking for his sister's hand.

Silas dropped chopsticks, food and his chin altogether, the color leaving his face. "I, um, I mean, Lord Ryoma--" He stuttered, also getting up. Hinoka did the same.

"What is the meaning of this?! First you," Ryoma pointed to Silas, then gestured to the rest of the table, "then you, and you and you all." He huffed, feeling the rage go up to his head.

"Brother," Takumi got up, followed by Corrin, Oboro and Rinkah. Sakura weekly grasped at Hayato's sleeve, her eyes glued on her enraged brother. Azura avoided the scene altogether, looking at her food with her head down. Kaden wrapped his tail around her, patting her back, his smile never leaving his face.

"Stop this, Ryoma." Hinoka protectively put one arm in front of Silas. "You might be my brother, but I won't let you get in the way of my happiness."

Ryoma choked. "Your- happiness?! With this... nohrian?" He clenched his fists so hard his hands were trembling. "We're at WAR with them, Hinoka! This isn't the time for such bridge-gapping play!"

"This is EXACTLY the time for us to get along with them! Aren't we doing so at this very moment? We're under the care of good nohrians who also want this war to end."

"This and that are two unrelated things, Hinoka." His voice sounded deep and controlled, taking all he had not to jump at Silas' throat at that very moment.

"I know, and I understand." She returned his piercing gaze with fire in her eyes. "I know of my own responsibilities as a princess, as well as of our differences as hoshidan and nohrian. At first, I didn't know how to react to these feelings, but after we talked things through, we realized we could take it slow: we'll both get used to each other's customs, and we'll talk it over with our families -- meaning you too, of course."

"You're talking it over with me now, and my answer is no."

"And I won't accept it so readily." She took one step closer, lifting her chin. "I know you're the High Prince and future King of Hoshido, but you have no right to command my heart. We were never a kingdom to force marriage to their royals and I won't let you bring your duties as King as an excuse to do so."

Before Ryoma could breathe in to reply, Sakura shot herself up. "I-I also agree with big sister!" She said boldly, though no less shakingly. "I m-might not be the oldest nor the wisest, or even have any value as a marriage partner, b-but I still want to follow my heart, too!" She squeezed Hayato's hand with everything she had, her face bright red.

Ryoma felt the ground open under his feet. "Sakura?"

Hayato got up, holding her hand and showing the rings both of them wore as necklaces. "There's no debt between us now, is there, Lord Ryoma? I'm the heir to the Wind Tribe and even if you wanted to marry your sisters off to some noble house, mine would be near the top."

Ryoma couldn't disagree with that logic, but that was his baby sister. His brain started to hurt when someone else also spoke up.

"I might not be from a noble house, my Lord," Oboro lowered her head, "but I can assure you that no one else in the world will serve and love Lord Takumi better than I ever will."

"Hey, you stole my cue!" Takumi helped his beloved raise her head, then turned to his brother. "I wanted to let you know, too, Brother, and that I'm willing to fight to follow m-my own heart." He stuttered, holding the hand in which Oboro wore the ring he had given her.

Ryoma hadn't noticed it.

He hadn't noticed at all.

Dumbfounded, he looked carefully across the table and he could actually see them: Hinoka, Silas, Takumi, Oboro, Corrin and Rinkah all wore engagement rings on their fingers. Azura had a tribal kitsune necklace around her neck, alongside her usual pendant. Sakura and Hayato shared necklaces of the rings -- engraved with the Wind Tribe's seals, no less!

How... how could they? They schemed everything behind his back while he was simply trying to help his kingdom by undergoing a secret mission? True, he purposely avoided contacting them so his cover wouldn't be blown, but he didn't deserve to be bombarded with so many news all at once.

He couldn't use his authority as older brother to stop them; he couldn't use his authority as future King to stop them; he couldn't even physically fight them so they could win the honor of his siblings since he already knew how good of a fighter everyone in that table was.

The hole under his feet widened until it covered the entire room in black, his heart plunging deep into it as well.

First, his face was red with rage, but then as his siblings spoke, it started losing its color, until he was white as a sheet, the strength gone from his limbs and body.

However, he still managed to slam the table with his fist before turning his back to it, leaving the mess hall at large steps.

"Brother-" Hinoka reached out to him, but his voice rared from afar:

"I need some time alone." And then he left.

He walked all the way back up to the ugly nohrian sky, at least feeling the cold wind on his tired bones. He was devastated. He couldn't believe the GALL of his siblings -- how could they hide everything from him like that? "Ugh," he massaged the bridge between his eyes, sitting under a tree, close to a stream.

"Haha, rough night, huh?" Scarlet laughed from behind the tree, holding two bottles of sake.

"Scarlet, please." Ryoma tried to shoo her away. "I need to be alone."

"The hell you do!" She sat beside him, handing him one bottle. "You need to drink and loosen up! Let your siblings be happy, man! You seriously didn't notice anything?"

"What do you mean?" He was forced to hold the bottle, but didn't look at her, trying to focus on the moon hiding all the way up in the sky.

Scarlet snorted. "They were all lovey-dovey from the moment you all were reunited. You were just really that blind, huh? Well, not that it matters now, you just gotta live with it."

Ryoma groaned, taking a large gulp of the sake. "Even my baby sister..." He leaned his head on the trunk, once again clenching his fist. He would need to get used to it, she says? How could he even begin to? How could he even FATHOM the fact that his family grew up and are about to lead their own lives despite of the war around them?

He sighed. Maybe he would never get used to it, after all.

[helloandwelcometomariasblog]

Review #91: Sister

Written by Xiaoying You, Directed by Ruoxin Yin

Sister immediately caught my attention for two reasons: It's an Asian film, and it's about family. After watching the trailer, I knew I had to go see it at the cinemas. There seemed to be aspects of it that I really liked - family members unable to love each other with nobody specific to blame. I really wanted to know how the characters would resolve that. And so I went to see it.

I was disappointed and not invested maybe a third of the film. I was slowly won over during two-thirds of the film, then by the end, I was bawling. Really. And the film remained with me for a while after that too.

The reason I wasn't invested at first was, I think, pretty simple. The main character was such a biatch. Yes, I understood her - she had enough reasons to be that biatch, but nobody actually wants to see the main character really be one. We could all see why she hated her brother and why she felt she wasn't responsible. We could all see that she wasn't loved as much as her brother was while her parents were alive. We could all see that her family members were also inconsiderate, pushing her to take care of her little brother despite the abuse she herself had gone through. We could also see that her brother was being a pain from time to time, and that she had her own life and her own plans - she was smart and wanted to be a doctor and also get married to her long-term boyfriend.

BUT. But despite all that, the second most important character is a little boy. A child. Moreover, he's a child who has just lost both parents. He doesn't even know what death means, what grief means, and here he is thrown around like a soccer ball, from heartless person to heartless person. And nobody wants to keep him. I just couldn't empathize with the main character when here was a child who was being forced to live through grief and constant abandonment by himself. Like what the fuck? Maybe I was even more angry because I have a little brother with around the same age difference. I don't think I could ever give my brother up to adoption regardless of whatever happened between me and my parents. Hating parents is one thing, abandoning a child is another.

Also, that child just went through something incredibly traumatic that even adults struggle with. Of course he needs more care and attention during this time. But he doesn't get it (in fact he gets the exact opposite, right in front of his face) and you're surprised and angry that he's acting out? That's his way of crying out for help. And what does the sister do? Become a biatch, that's what.

I just honestly could not empathize with her. And this lack of empathy and relatability made it initially very hard to become immersed in the film. I constantly found myself empathizing with the little brother instead and feeling really sorry for him. It really didn't help that he was a child. Children already have the image of being helpless and weak, and the film put that child in an even more vulnerable situation with a sister who literally wants to abandon him and overtly hates him. Like, come on.

This sister slowly starts changing as the film progresses. It's true that the beginning of the film may have been more realistic than others. The sister had issues she had to resolve within herself and the film may have just shown that in the most dirtiest and realest way possible, with no sugar coating. If that's what the film intended, I gotta say it succeeded. I'm just glad I stuck with it because it was incredibly cathartic seeing the sister heal herself as the film goes on. It surely doesn't happen immediately though, which I loved. It took quite a long time (which is probably why the film is over two hours long), but it was time well-spent, and more realistic too.

The sister goes back and forth many times, but that makes it even more real. There are moments when she advocates for her brother and takes care of him, and then the next moment she's back to wanting her own life and giving him up to adoption. The back-and-forth movements become more and more dramatic as time goes on, and the sister finds it harder and harder to emotionally detach herself from her brother. The film does all of this gradually, which is one of its strongest points. It reflects real life better.

A standout scene for me is when the sister goes to visit her brother after sitting her exams, and she finds her brother playing mahjong with a damn cigarette tucked behind his ear. I honestly gasped at that scene, and would have reacted exactly the same way the sister did - yell and scream at the uncle and drag little brother out of there. We're then led to a really heartwarming scene where the sister bathes her brother at the apartment during golden hour, sunlight pouring through the glass. I'm trying to remember the dialogue during that scene. I'm sure it was something really warm.

What I also loved was how, even after this heartwarming scene, the sister still decides to leave to Beijing. It felt way more realistic than some other family movies where it doesn't take much for the person to give up their desires for the younger being. It's shown during another standout scene where the siblings lie in bed, having a talk before going to sleep. The little brother asks her if she still wants to go to Beijing and why. The sister answers honestly and we can all tell that she really dreams of this life that she's planned out. The sad thing is that the brother is included in that 'we'. I didn't know during that scene, but in the following scenes, I realised that he understood exactly what his sister wanted.

It was really crazy how the little brother left his sister on his own accord and gave himself up to adoption just so his sister could pursue her dreams. As much as I loved that beat, I found myself seriously wondering: is that realistic? That a six year old boy would be that deeply sacrificial? He's probably the most sacrificial and loving character in the film, even more than his sister. It was a great beat though, one of the best in the movie. It was heartbreaking seeing him cry, unable to tell his sister why he chose to leave her. It was like a drama scene where one of the leads forces themselves to leave their partner and be all noble and sacrificial. Still not sure if it's realistic for a six year old to do that though. It's kind of sad even thinking of it. A child doing something even most adults wouldn't do. The brother really had to grow up and mature at a super young age. It's sad. I wonder what kind of teenager and adult he will be in the future. I hope he gets to resolve the hurts inside of him too as he grows up.

And so the sister actually buys the ticket for Beijing and prepares to leave. Again, I loved this. I loved how the film took us till the very end of the end before resolving things. The film really made us believe the sister would leave. And to be honest, I understood her and didn't blame her for deciding to pursue her dreams. I sat there wondering how they would actually resolve things. The ending scene is definitely one of my favourites, maybe even the favourite. I loved how the sister was given an ultimatum: you can leave, but if you leave, you've gotta sign the paper to say you'll never come to see your brother ever again. It was a great choice. There was so much at risk on both sides. It was a moment where I genuinely wasn't sure what she would do - I knew she loved both her brother and her dream and held both of them dearly. Both of them were precious.

I held my breath when she hesitated, pen hovering over the paper. Then she throws the pen down and runs out to her brother, and when her little brother turns to her, his eyes are full of tears. My heart. My heart. My damn heart! I bawled there, the tears just flowed. The brother had been pretending to be okay and holding all tears back, thinking that his sister would feel bad if she saw him cry and she'd give up her dreams. That's just too much for a six year old, I swear. He finally lets it out when he knows she still wants and loves him. That was both incredibly painful and cathartic to watch. What an amazing climax and resolution.

I also liked how the sister resolved her own deep issues before finally going back to her brother. I believe it's shown in the scene where she visits her parents' grave on the rainy day and cries to them. There was a hint of the start of her healing when she cries and lets out her honest feelings during night in front of her parents' pictures. The rainy day she rips the paper and is again honest to her parents' grave, is a great scene. I also loved the part where she comes down the stairs, and it's a long shot with rainwater flooding down the steps like a beautiful waterfall. It made me want to film something like that in the future. Felt like things were being washed away.

So yes, I started off not liking the film because of how unlikable the main character was (they're allowed to have negative qualities, but I honestly believe there needs to be something that makes the audience identify with them or empathize with them, just something that makes the audience root for them) and her treatment of her brother. I know it was done that way to show her gradual change, but I still do think it could have been done a little differently. Because, even with her treatment of her brother aside, I didn't really like her as a person and had trouble understanding her. She seemed really tantrum-ey at points. But as the film went on, I warmed up to her and the gradual change took place. She was still herself with her own desires even while growing to love her brother, which I loved. She learned to balance things out, and I hope she continued to pursue her dreams even without going to Beijing, with her brother by her side.

I find that this film presented a different image of 'sacrifice', and that it was saying that different image was okay too. You don't have to fully give yourself up for someone. You can still have your own life and that's okay. By the end, none of her family members guilt-trip her about looking after her brother, which I really liked. It's pretty rare for Asian families to not do that guilt-tripping thing. But her aunt did it. Her aunt, who seemed to be the most guilt-tripping person, let her go in the end and told her that it was okay, that not everyone fits that image of sacrifice perfectly, like the Russian dolls. I think that actually enabled the sister to go back to her brother later on. Sometimes you have to let people go to get them back.

[fuelgrannieinthefamily]

Don’t Speak

Over the years, a few of my friendships have ended because of one counterintuitive reason: the friend would have preferred if I would have not talked.

          This manifests when I ask them to listen to me and they find themselves incapable.

           It happens quickly: the relationship is instantly over because they are no longer getting what they want out of me and I, empty and resentful, check out of the rapport right along with them.

           I’ll then spend a period of time digesting, looking back at something which has now become newly quite flawed, inadequate and stunningly superficial. And I hate being had: I loathe wasting my time with someone who can’t stop talking while they simultaneously struggle to listen to even the most short sentences I try to sneak in.

           I find myself in these rapports because I had been initially charmed and then build a history with the person which I then use as the excuse to continue the connection. Until I simply cannot take it anymore.

           My not talking, my not being heard, is a theme in my life I have had trouble solving. It is one reason why I write: no one interrupts me when I talk on paper. It is also a reason why I speak to myself all the time when I am alone, a lifelong habit, a habit which I suspect may be universal.

           As a little girl, I talked to myself constantly because although I got yelled at all the time, no one really talked to me or with me. At night, when I sat up in my bed after I had been tucked in, I finally had conversations by the low hazy glow of an amber nightlight. I finally spoke. Using first person narrative, I told invisible people what I thought about things, what I had done for the day, what I thought was unfair. I wasn’t alone because I was listening to me, I was being heard.

           I am good listener, perhaps to a fault if there is such a thing. Even with strangers: many times, I find myself on the receiving end of a monologue streaming out of a person I just met as they ramble on to me, freely, endlessly, about their personal life, family history, internal struggles; the only place or role for me somehow becomes witness and audience. My presence has no worth other than my paying attention and not speaking myself.

           I never know how to politely extradite myself from this type of situation, other than enduring it, smiling, being supportive and positive and waiting for it to be over, so I can get away, so I don’t have to stand at attention and give 100% of myself to a person who could not care less about me in any way; my being used, being had, ends when the conversation ends. I could be rude: I could walk away; I could abruptly interrupt; it’s not like I don’t have autonomy and personal freedom in these moments. But still, usually, I just stand there and listen, observing the scene, like live-stream sociology: I watch, uncaged but somehow trapped.

                                                                       *

One friendship died as my mother did.

          I had known Abigail for six years. We had met via Queens social media, through our active and percolating community; our connection was geography, many of my newer rapports grew organically out of my love for my adopted borough and neighborhood.

           I wanted to have a closeness with Abigail because I thought a foundation was there for it, so I assumed an intimacy which wasn’t necessarily there simply because I liked her and she acted like she liked me back. But through that half decade, there were indications of disconnection and signs of trouble: the biggest sign was the time when Abigail had offered to be with me when my mother had fallen into unconsciousness one afternoon during a hospital stay just after Halloween in 2015, the day after my mom had undergone a simple surgery and some ten month’s before my mother’s eventual death.

           I had spoken to my mother on the phone earlier that morning but when I arrived later to visit, I found her unresponsive as she lay convulsing on her bed. Her head lolled unsteadily to each side and, between long breaths, she moaned gravely, guttural, raw gasps. Her arms, legs, feet and hands trembled and flexed: her body vibrated, never ceasing to quiver.

           I ran to the nurse’s station and pulled a Terms of Endearment: “What is the matter with my mother?!?” I hollered.

           People in white jackets came to stand around my mother’s bed.

           “I’ve never seen a reaction like this,” one said.

           “Is she dying?” I wailed.

           “I don’t know, I don’t think so,” was what I heard.

           “Well then what is the matter with her? Why is she doing this?”

           They took my mother’s vitals: her heart was fine; her body showed no symptoms of impending failure as it writhed and shuddered.

           “So, what’s the matter with her? Is she dying?” I tried again.

           “I don’t think so, maybe it’s a reaction to the anesthesia. Give it time, let her rest.”

           There wasn’t anything more the medical professionals could tell me, there was nothing they could do so they left, instructing me not to worry.

           Alone with my mother in her hospital room, I begged her to wake up: “don’t go, don’t leave me, please,” I whispered in her ear as she twitched, possessed and lost in her unconsciousness. I was not convinced she wasn’t dying.

           I called my family members. They should know what was going on.

           “But is she dying?” They all asked.

           It was a good question.

           “I don’t know!” I squeaked, watching my mother, our mother, flay about in her light blue hospital gown. “I don’t know! Nobody knows!”

           My Californian sister-in-law Leslie called from Los Angeles and asked to be put on speakerphone so she could say goodbye to my mom, just in case. I held the phone near my mother’s face where her nose jerked to the sky at the sound of her son David’s wife’s voice, she always delighted in hearing Leslie, but her eyes still remained shut.

           “I know she heard you,” I told Leslie after I put the phone back to my ear. I was raw witnessing this farewell; my sister-in-law, not a crier, was choked up as she told my mother how much she had loved her. It was a primal, intimate and wrenching moment, facilitated by modern technology: a bicoastal deathbed parting and, to me, a haunting foreshadowing of the lonely, disconnected deaths by covid19 in 2020.

           I could not believe my mother might be dying, I couldn’t believe it was happening so quickly; she had just been speaking, totally lucid, that morning. What was making her not wake up? What was making her shake?

           Hanging up the phone, I texted my friends. I was alone. I received texts back with support, with love, with “hang in theres” but Abigail had texted back: did I want her to come up here, to the Upper East Side near the hospital where my mother lay? Did I want company? Did I want to grab a drink?

           I looked down at my phone and had one of those moments where I pretended I was a normal person who was cared for like this all the time, like it was an everyday thing for someone to offer to be there for me. Here was this one “I’ll come up” text which was like gold to me that day. I was thrilled Abigail was turning out to be this person for me, someone who would show up when I was alone, someone who would be there for me. What a gift. How much I needed it.

           “I would love that!” I texted back. I was relieved, I was lifted, I felt lighter. I wasn’t going to be alone; it was so amazing; someone was going to be there for me. As I waited for Abigail to make her way uptown, I sat by mother’s bed, on a low stool, leaning into her ear, asking her to come back, telling her to please not leave: but now I had felt stronger, I felt loved, like it was all going to work out simply because I wasn’t going to be alone soon.

           “Come back, Mummy. It’s not time yet. Come back,” I murmured to my mother as she spasmed, as low breathy grunts came out of her mouth.

           The text “I’m here” from Abigail 45 minutes later excited me but, as I turned to behold my mother again, as I readied myself for an exit, I wondered if I would ever see her alive again. I was scared to leave her: if I left, would she die? But I couldn’t wait to see my friend, I couldn’t wait to be unalone.

           My mother’s ivory white arms and legs fluttered. Her eyes seemed to be rapidly moving behind their shut-tight lids. Her mouth stayed open, the gentle sound of deep breath peppered by grumbles, clicks and soft yelps. This is death?

           “Come back, Mummy. I’m going out for a few minutes but you need to wake up, you need to come back,” I said next to her cheek, bending down, my coat on. “I’ll be back soon. Wake up.”

           Out the door of the hospital, heading up to the corner where Abigail waited, I was more happy to see her than I was scared that my mom might not make it. My mom’s health had been declining for years, she was in her late 80s; my siblings and I had been in this situation before, so I was resolved about my mother’s future. What I did not expect was that this would be the way my mother would have expired: in a coma, twitching on a hospital bed, garbled cackles burbling from the back of her throat.

           I was thinking I had already lost her. I didn’t even bother saying goodbye, despite my having been right next to her, because I wasted none of my words on “goodbye” and spent all of them on “come back.” I wasn’t going to say goodbye until she was gone.

           I finally saw Abigail across the street as I ambled up to our designated meeting spot. When she saw me and we made eye contact, I was so relieved, so happy to not be alone, to see a familiar face, that I started to cry.

           What happened next explains our relationship and why it ultimately failed.

           As I released the tears out of my eyes at the sight of Abigail crossing the street to meet me, I witnessed a look of horror on her face.

           Abigail seemed appalled, shocked and troubled by my crying, as if my emotional response was not something she had quite bargained for when she offered to hang out with me on the occasion of my elderly mother being unconscious, convulsing on a hospital bed and potentially expiring. It’s like she hadn’t counted on my tears.

           I stopped crying instinctively. I knew instantly I was in the presence of someone who did not want me to cry, a place I unfortunately knew too well.

           The thought “why the hell even offer to come and be with someone whose parent is dying if sobbing appalls you?” was quickly pushed aside as I decided that it was much more important in the moment to make Abigail feel comfortable than it was for me to express my feelings.

           That moment when I suppressed my tears, when I vigorously pushed my friend’s needs way in front of mine, when I felt guilty and ashamed that my own grief somehow made my friend feel uncomfortable, is a moment now seared into my psyche.

           The memory of the expression on Abigail’s face, a combination of disgust and fear, is secondary to the memory of my kneejerk response to want to make her feel better, my pattern of Stockholm syndrome, my need to soothe people who are dismissive of, or even abusive to, me.

           Abigail’s horror confirmed my lack of deserving. Of course, she was perturbed: I had a need. I should never have needs: I should never need people; people should never be there for me just on my merit alone. I am not good enough for that.

           This was not a moment where she was there, unconditionally, to make me feel better: this was now a moment where I had to be there for Abigail unconditionally. Her need was her discomfort and I had to get rid of that discomfort immediately.

           The closest restaurant was half a block away: we sat at the bar.

           “Thank you so much for coming up! I appreciate it so much! Order whatever you want! Thank you for being here, it’s so nice of you!” I made myself happy and upbeat. I was here to destroy Abigail’s horror while I tried not to think about my mother twitching five blocks away, I tried to pretend I was a normal person, which I will never be, which I certainly wasn’t that night. I thanked my friend profusely for her time and bought us an artisan pizza, which arrived on its own elegant metal stand, along a parade of many Italian beers.

           Abigail talked for two and half hours straight: I listened to the full story of her relationship, a charming story, deserving of its length, a unique and enduring love. Hospital visiting hours were to end at 9pm and as that time drew near, I could no longer pay full attention to Abigail’s tale. I started to feel guilty that I wanted to get away from this incredibly generous person, who had come all the way up to the Upper East Side, to be in my physical presence, but I started to fathom with a thudding heaviness that my mother may no longer be breathing and that I may not even be allowed back into the hospital for the day even if she was.

           How do I end this conversation when I am not even participating in it? Is it rude for me to announce I’d like to get back to my dying mother? Is there any polite way to stop a person from talking?

           I did finally pipe up with the whole closing hospital aspect and asked the bartender for the check; I was glad to be the one paying, I would have hated to have ended the conversation as I had, so suddenly, with her then picking up the check; she was doing me a favor, after all. She didn’t need to be here, she had better things to do with her time, I was so lucky she had distracted me for a few hours, got my mind off things.

           But now, I was back to primal and raw, distracted as the clock ticked into 9pm and beyond. Gotta go, gotta go, echoed in my head. I yanked on my coat, tried to make Abigail not worry about what was going on with me, I’ll be fine and thanks thanks thanks thanks gosh thank you so much, signed my credit card receipt and hugged her outside.

           “Thank you so much!” I exclaimed. “You made me feel so much better!” I wanted her to know how grateful I was, how important her time was, how nice it was to not be alone.

           But at that point, I had to leave, it was 9:05pm and I had to see my mother. I ran away from her and back to the hospital.

           “Visiting hours over,” the security guard announced at the entrance.

           “My mother is in Room 1145: she’s dying, she may already be dead, she…” I started.

           “Go ahead,” he waved me past and I took an empty elevator up to my mother’s room.

                                                                       *

She was alive, thankfully, but her condition had not changed: her limbs flapped, her eyeballs tick-tocked rapidly behind closed lids and her thin cheeks stretched in grimaces. I sank back into the short stool and resumed my perch at her ear: “Come back, come back to me.”

           She made more noise. Could she hear me?

           “It’s not your time, Mummy. Don’t go.”

           My siblings texted asking for updates. I had none, I’d let them know if anything changed.

           Just before 11pm, two nurses came in to give my mother a sponge bath and change her gown.

           “She’ll be okay,” one said to me about my mother and, unalone, I started to cry.

           The nurses had rolled my mother onto her side, facing away from me.

           “Hey!” They both looked at me. “Her eyes are open!”

           I flew around the foot of the bed to my mother’s side.

           “You’re awake!” I put my face close to hers, those blue eyes finally open. She had the semblance of a freshly hatched chick, blinking and soft: new with life.

           “Hi, dear,” she uttered, using her oft-employed term of endearment, proof of life: she was back. It was extraordinary. She was alive, she came back: I begged her to come back and she came back. It was a moment I had wanted so badly and was overjoyed it had happened. She came back.

           It wasn’t until the next day, when my siblings began to gather in our mother’s hospital room, when it wasn’t just me, that we found out she had most likely experienced a delayed reaction to Dilaudid, a narcotic, administered for pain during her surgery. The dose had been small but still overwhelming to our mother’s tiny 90lb body: unlike many of her ilk and generation, she neither drank nor smoked so her system was uncommonly clean. An opioid withdrawal had shivered through her bones, muscles and organs as the Dilaudid worked its way through her frame. That’s most likely why she was unconscious, a doctor told us, that’s why she convulsed.

           Around my mother’s hospital bed, my siblings, all older than I, wondered, as they always did, if I had overreacted in thinking our mother was dying. I didn’t know what else to do other than be with my mother and let my family know what was going on. I hadn’t known what else to do other than act the way I had. Maybe it seemed unbelievable to them that she had been in the condition she was, now that she was so easily back to herself.

           I didn’t care what they thought and how they always viewed me as being irrational or dramatic. After all, I was the one who had been there: all by myself. I did all that I could and that I knew to do. I did all that I could fathom to do. I didn’t care that I was “wrong” about her dying. It was a drug withdrawal; it was a medical event and thankfully she survived it. She didn’t die.

           “I heard you,” my mother took a moment to grasp my hand, her light eyes on mine, not her usual style, her small, warm palm gripping my fingers tightly, squeezing for emphasis. “I heard every word you said.”

           I held her eyes.

           “I told you to come back.”

           “I know,” she nodded. “I heard you.”

           “And you came back,” I told her. “We are all so lucky: you came back.”

                                                                       *

In eight months, my mother will die. She will die a slow and quite painless death, the death of a healthy body which succumbs to age, like that rare elderly person like during Civil War times, who fades away on a pillowed bed, giving in to an eventual continual sleep; the demise of a disease-free body, no cancers, no infections or flus, a gradual collapse. My mother will die during the night following the hottest day of the summer, when it had felt like 113 degrees with the heat index: my mother had always hated the heat.

           There will no calling her back when her time finally arrives, when there will be nothing left in her body, when she will barely have the energy to eat, when her physical being finally fails. My sister Helen, who lived with and cared for our mother as she died, felt I didn’t help her out enough and believed I purposefully provoked my mother into fights as she reclined on her deathbed. After my mother had snapped at me to “get out!” one afternoon when she had been acting grouchy, Helen then forbade me from seeing my mother ever again, save one more session to say goodbye, stating I was harmful to our mother, maybe even dangerous. Although my brothers expressed to Helen that I most likely would not murder our mother, they agreed it was best I stay away; my sister did not want me there, who were they to disagree?

           I was commanded to deliver a farewell to my mother on a date during a 30-minute time slot which had been determined by my sister: Helen sat in my mother’s bedroom with us as I spent the last half hour I had been allowed by my family to be with my mom. My sister fumed quietly, playing sudoku on her phone, her socked feet protectively tucked on the side of our mother’s bed. She checked the time frequently, looking at her phone and craning her neck towards the ticking clock on my mother’s night table, making sure I did not steal any unjustified time. She needed to be in the room with me to prevent me from harming or killing our dying mother.

           Like I had waited all this time to finally do in my mom.

           I was unalone in that room as the minutes flew. I awkwardly stood behind the chair where my sister sat at my mother’s bedside, trying to narrow my body between my sister’s steamingly angry torso and my mother’s nightstand. My mother pressed my hand onto her chest, I felt skin on skin, I tried to memorize it as she lifted my hand up to her lips to kiss it: she didn’t understand this was our final goodbye but I was lucky she was at least conscious for it. At that stage in her decline, she wasn’t awake for long periods of time and although she was sporadically talkative, she was no longer lucid; she was lost in a place of memories, she slid further and deeper into sleep.

           “It’s time,” my sister barked. “Say goodbye.”

           I did, in my mother’s ear. I kissed her cheek, I squeezed her tiny forearm, I smelled her, I breathed her in, I couldn’t believe that would be the last time I would see my mother, but it was.

           For next almost month and a half, I tracked how many miles stood between me and my mother’s beating heart. The days I temped at a midtown hedge fund, her heart was two and a half miles away. When I sat on the waterfront in Queens staring at Manhattan’s panorama, her heart was three and a half miles away. Her heart still beat but I couldn’t see her, couldn’t touch her hand or cheek, couldn’t tell her anything in her ear. I was already dead to her but she wasn’t dead to me. Because she wasn’t dead. Until she was.

                                                                       *

My sister found my mother dead on that sultry summer morning around 8:30am. She announced the death on Facebook at 10:30am. I wasn’t told until 2:30pm that day when my brother David called me and asked me if I was ok. I was on the street at the time, in front of a sidewalk café.

           “I’m fine,” I chirped. I was running errands, I had just bought ice cream, I was heading home on a summer Sunday afternoon      .

           “Do not tell me that no one told you, do not tell me this,” my brother repeated over and over, in agony.

           I knew what he was talking about immediately. Every time my phone rang during those five weeks, I wondered if it was news that mother had passed away. I had thought it, fleetingly, just then, in fact, when I saw it was a sibling calling me but didn’t catch on immediately. I didn’t realize she was dead until I heard David say, “don’t tell me, don’t tell me you don’t know, don’t tell me, do not tell me no one told you.”

           No one had told him either: his friend saw the Facebook post and raced to the green where my brother had been golfing to let him know. David found out on a golf course and I found out standing on the street on 34th Avenue in Long Island City, Queens outside of Gastroteca Astoria, steps away from where people were eating brunch.

           My mother wasn’t coming back.

                                                                       *

I hold the night of calling my mother back from her coma in the hospital as a good memory, an extraordinary gift, a second chance. I did not experience many tender or nice moments with my mother, the way I would have wanted, the way I saw her have with her other children, with other people, sometimes even strangers, her easy charm, the shine of her light. For one night, after she woke up, after I had infested her ear, we had connected: we had a moment, a moment I will never forget. A moment that worked: where a dream came true. And I hadn’t really saved her, she really wasn’t going to die that night but it had been a pinpoint for us to connect, a primal flash of need; I was reduced to nothing but need, nothing but a child in need, my helplessness at its height. It was a story with a happy ending.

           But that night was also when I saw Abigail’s horror and when I internalized it and made it my fault for being too emotional. That was the night I blamed myself for offending my friend with who I was.

           I have retold the story of that night many times since: the sympathetic tale of Abigail’s heroic effort to spend time with me, as the night when she had happily distracted me from my pesky, inconvenient and discomfort-inducing sorrow. I created a narrative that Abigail had saved me that night with her describing the 10-year saga of her relationship to me, and that it had been so much more normal for us to talk about her and her past than it would have been for us to have discussed me and my present at that time. I praised her often for how much she had given me that night. I did this because I wanted the friendship, I wanted to compensate for it, I wanted to validate it. Maybe because she had texted to ask if she should come up and that text, the promise of someone actually attempting to be there for me, meant more to me than the reality of a friend who talked her head off and couldn’t handle my grief.

           This past year for my birthday, I spent another evening with Abigail. I had been so eager to share with her, to talk to her, about what I was writing, about work I wanted to do but despite it being my birthday, our conversation never turned to me.

           Because our conversations never turned to me.

           My mother had been dead for over two years and the “conversations” Abigail and I engaged in were still completely imbalanced. They were Abigail’s monologues, punctuated by my questions.

           I realized that birthday night that I had finally had it. Abigail’s look of horror from that night with my mother had defined our relationship, had cemented my pattern of Stockholm syndrome responses, my desperation to not be alone.

           But I was more alone with Abigail than when I was physically alone. All I did was listen and it was, at last, too draining to bear anymore: all I did was serve. I had no worth at all unless I was attending, hearing, nodding, agreeing, supporting, doting, affirming, validating and witnessing.

           When I was with Abigail, I was there but I wasn’t really. I was the audience. And because I hadn’t wanted to ever see her look of horror ever again, I literally changed myself when I was around her to make sure that look would never cross her face again. I changed who I was and what I needed so to suit her, protect her, maintain our connection. It was all about her because I allowed it to be all about her.

           The night of my birthday, for the first time in my friendship with her, I couldn’t wait to get away from Abigail; I couldn’t wait for the evening to end. I felt so alone, I just wanted to be alone.

           She could tell and we end up talking about it, talking together for the very last time, a few days later.

           She confessed then that she had talked a lot to distract me; she didn’t know exactly why she did it, she didn’t consider herself to be a real talker, per se, but it just sort of happened whenever she was around me. It wasn’t that she didn’t want me to express myself, she insisted; but she couldn’t come up with any reason for why she did what she did with me.

           She did, however, come up with many reasons why it was most likely my fault that she talked so much around me.

           “You’re too good of a listener,” Abigail dully explained at the Astoria bar where we had met that last time. “You ask too many questions,” she delivered.

           My jaw fell.

           “Are you kidding me?” I piped, maybe too loudly because in the corner of the happy hour bar where we sat, she shushed me.

           “You can ask questions, too, you know, Abbi: no one is stopping you. This is ridiculous logic.” I strained my neck and flexed my fingers in frustration. The concrete stone of the bar looked dangerously tempting: I was so upset, I wanted to smash my forehead into its grey smooth hardness.

           Abigail, embarrassed by my anger and frustration, snapped at me to sit up and gather myself together: she didn’t want the bartenders to see her with an emotional person. I replied the bartenders probably didn’t care and won’t remember us by tomorrow, but she didn’t believe me. I said we could move to a table to talk but she relayed that would draw even more attention to us. Nothing I did was right or valid.

           And I was too good of a listener who asked too many questions.

           I didn’t know who this person was all of a sudden: this Abigail who cared more about bartenders; who didn’t feel bad that I was hurt; who blamed me for the things she did.

           I didn’t know who this person was because I had been pretending that she didn’t exist. From that night with my mother and seeing that look of horror on Abigail’s face, I had made her and our friendship into entities they weren’t because I wanted the friendship. I wanted it to be a friendship which served me: I even often cited that very night as the ultimate example of Abigail’s affection towards me: I created a narrative to demonstrate Abigail’s selflessness and it wasn’t fully the truth.

           In all fairness, Abigail most likely did the best she could that night. She’s not an emotive person and for whatever reasons, my grief and emotion were too much for her to handle. But that doesn’t mean her effort didn’t mean something: it was a good thing for her to do, she did mean well, it still means something to me that she made this effort and she did it the only way she knew how to, by talking about herself.

           And I have to take responsibility for my own desperation, my own ability to let a lie thrive somehow, because it’s attractive, because I want it, because I covet what it means.

           I so desperately want to be cared for that I will take care in any form it comes and I will create a story to make it sound more care-y: I have to take responsibility for the inherent dishonesty which comes with that desperation. I have to manage my own easy slide into doing the other person’s work: I might be denying myself more satisfying rapports because I spend so much time and energy on cardboard flat relationships I am too desperate to leave.

                                                                       *

Abigail and I parted ways on the sidewalk outside the bar: we had already made tentative plans for that following weekend; we said to each other that we would reach out and firm up those plans but we never did.

           She may have felt it was my place to reach out to her and, of course, I certainly felt like if she really cared, it was high time she actually make some effort. But no one, between the two of us, ever made an effort again.

           I replayed moments from our friendship as the next weeks passed: I mourned a friendship I knew was dying and instead of sadness, I felt anger for a couple of months. And after that anger eased, the sadness never came; instead, I felt distance, clarity and relief, a full detachment. I even felt gratitude: Abigail and I had had fun times and even though that was not enough to sustain the connection for me, those times still happened, we still enjoyed each other, there was still something there.

           But it wasn’t enough, not for me.

           And I am too good of a listener and I do ask too many questions so it’s a gift to recognize how much of a doormat I can be and to forgive anyone who takes too much advantage of that. My lesson is to be honest with myself, to not make excuses for other people, to carry my own load, not carry the load of both parties in the rapport. To open my mouth. To ask, even to demand. To see what is there, not what I want to be there.

           I am my own best friend but that only goes so far. Part of my self-love, especially now that my charming, abusive and neglectful Mummy is gone, is cultivating a better support system. To maybe one day get a text from someone who really wants to be there for me and who would just listen to me; to feel more normal by love, the way I think other people are, people like Abigail, partnered people, people seeming to be surrounded by large circles of other people, typical people, people whose mothers easily loved them. I define myself as not normal: maybe that is a defense mechanism, maybe no one is really that normal. Maybe with relationships, it is more about fit, more about deep comfort, than it is about anything else.

           I had a lousy teacher in all this: my mother. Her narcissistic personality disorder mired her maternal strategies. She was competitive, manipulative, subtly domineering, withholding, playing favorites, thinking solely of herself. She knew no better. She didn’t understand relationships, it was all about control for her; it was all about keeping the attention of all the people around her. It was about fighting, complaining, purposefully not feeling joy, purposefully denying joy to those around her.

           She fought with me the most: it is likely she loved me the least.

           And yet I was the one who called her back that night when I told her hundreds of times not to leave, to come back to me.

           It was love I felt. But it was also severe attachment. And fear. It was safe to love my mother even though her love for me was conditional and sporadic: it was still all I knew and all I wanted. It was almost intoxicating when it arrived and disappointingly familiar when it flew away again, as it always did. It was all a game to my mother, a beautiful and beloved woman: she had more than enough love around her, she couldn’t spare more my way, I needed it. It was a deliberate game to deny it to me.

           I don’t see it immediately, when someone uses me, when a charismatic and gregarious person takes me under their wing; sometimes I get enchanted too quickly, I conceive of something which isn’t there, because I am charmed by the idea of appearing attractive to someone else. I don’t know how to parse that all out because I did that every day with every situation with my mother: I just wanted her to like me and there was a power she held over me because she did not fully like me. She even joked that she loved me but didn’t like me.

                                                                       *

I know this much: if someone loves me, they’ll want to listen to me. If someone likes me, they’ll want to listen to me.

           My ache to be normal can no longer blind me from my pattern of picking people who prefer my silence. My own silence is no longer acceptable to me when I am in the company of other people. My solitude and independence are separate from my silence: just because I am good at being alone, good at listening, good at asking questions, doesn’t mean I don’t want or need to express myself to other people. To be needy, to ask, to talk, to talk a lot. To be brave in my abbynormality: to be finally speaking about it.

[taetomysoob]

FAME||JOE SUGG IMAGINE

Thanks to the person who resquested this imagine This is the first time ever that I am writting a sibling imagine with Joe. I hope you enjoy it, also I’m sorry for what you’re about to read. xx

“Thanks for your time. I'll see you next week. Bye.” The dark blonde boy nicely said, sending a last wave to the team he had worked on for the day. He grabbed his jacket and sent a few nods to different members present in the Gleam office before he walked through the exit, letting out a long exhausted sigh. Joe put out his phone to check the time and realized how late the meeting had lasted. He waited for a few minutes before getting into the back seat of the Uber he had ordered. A short while after, he was walking through the elevator, pressing the button to his floor as he leaned onto one side of the lift, fighting back a yawn. It had been a long busy day for him and he simply wanted to eat and get into bed as soon as possible. He looked up to his phone again and noticed that a few of his friends had texted him about a night out but he didn't feel like it and typed a quick reply before locking his phone again and stepping out of the lift.

After Joe had had dinner, he was settled onto his couch, a random movie playing in the background as he was trying to keep his lids opened but they felt too heavy. Just as he was starting to slowly fall asleep, his phone started buzzing, signaling that someone was calling him. Joe let out an annoyed groan, rubbing his eyes like a child before taking hold of the phone. Joe frowned at the screen as he noticed it was an unknown number and he wondered who could call this late. He picked up on the call, still trying his best to stay awake. “Hello?” Joe replied, he hoped it wasn't a prank call because at this point, he would have been so annoyed. “Hello, is this Mr.Sugg? Royal London Hospital here.” An unknown voice asked and he suddenly sat straight up. Something was definitely wrong and there was suddenly a tight knot in his stomach. “Yes, it's me. What's going on?” He asked, a wave of concern hitting him. “Your sister Y/N got into a huge car accident, she's actually in critical conditions. You were referred as the first person to call in case of emergency.” The guy explained but his voice was far away from Joe's ears after he had heard the first sentence. “I'm on my way.” Joe stated before he hung up, grabbed his keys and ran out of his flat. He didn't need to hear more, he had to leave.

As Joe was getting closer from the hospital, his grip tightened on the steering wheel. Even if he was trying his best to stay focused on the road, his mind was out of this world. He wandered through the possibilities of what could happen but there was one particular possibility stuck in his mind and his heart only kept pounding more and more. Once he was there, he ran out of the car and to the reception. He always thought these kind of scenes looked ridiculously exaggerated in movies but he wasn't so sure anymore. “I'm here for my sister, Y/N Sugg. Where is she? Is she okay?” Joe rambled, gasping for air as he was trying to stay calm. “They're still trying to do whatever they can, we'll let you know as soon as we have news.” The woman said, sending him a reassuring smile but all it did was give him more nerves. Joe started pacing around the waiting hall, taking in some deep breaths in order to stop himself from freaking out but he couldn't, his sister was gravely injured and he was hit by a wave of guilt. There were so much things that he hadn't gotten around to tell her and she was so young. He couldn't believe something could happen to her, not now. And after a few minutes, he finally sat down, getting ready to wait for hours.

Two hours later, Joe was sat by his sister's side, his chin pressed against his joined hands as he watched her being connected to loads of cables. The beeping repeating sound echoed in his ears, it was the only thing that let him know that she was still alive. And if that sound ever stopped, his heart would too. Joe jumped out of his thoughts ad he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, he hadn't paid attention to the footsteps coming near him. As he looked up, he met his older sister's eyes full of tears  and he put his hand on top of hers, letting her know that he was there. Another man walked to the edge of the hospital bed, putting both his hands on the board and it took Joe a moment to realize that is was Zoe's boyfriend, he sent him a nod. This heavy silence was still hanging in the air, until Joe broke it. “Zo, what if she doesn't make it?” He asked, not taking his eyes away from his other sibling. “She will be fine, I know it. She always makes it.” Zoe affirmed, a voice crack escaping her throat as the words flew out of her mouth. “But what if she doesn't this time? What if she doesn't wake up and she leaves us? How are we gonna tell dad? How are we even going to be able to breathe still?” Joe rambled, his panic only growing as he looked up to meet her eyes. Zoe opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out as more tears ran out of her eyes. Joe closed his eyes for a moment as a memory flashed his mind.

Joe was organizing one of his livestreams when a call came through his phone, which he annoyingly picked up. “Too busy for my calls, now huh?” Y/N asked, the anger evident in her tone. Joe frowned. “What are you on about?” Joe replied, trying to hide his annoyance. “Oh well, I just tried to call you about fifty times this past week and you completely ignored me. But I'm fine, how are you?” She said, sarcasm in her voice and he rolled his eyes. “Listen, Y/N, I have really important stuff to do righ-” Joe started but he was cut off. “I can't believe you! Since when did the fame got to your head? Is it that 8 million thing? It's the million that gets you big headed, isn't it? So much that you can't even answer my fucking calls.” Y/N snapped on the other hand of the phone and Joe was surprised, she never used that tone with him but the words she used hurt him on a way. “You know I'm not. It just means a lot to me and you know that too. Stop being so self-centered, I also have a life.” Joe snapped back, his own anger growing, even if he hated so much when they argued. It went silent between them for a moment and he sighed. “I'm sorry, I'll just call you later, okay?” Joe suggested, wanting to get away from this as quick as possible. “You know what, don't even bother.” She replied before hanging up on him.

Two weeks after that, Joe stood by her side in a hospital room. He suddenly wanted to punch and yell because he was mad at himself. “I fucking yelled at her.” Joe said, barely above a whisper. Zoe frowned at her brother's words. “What?” She asked, watching him intensely as if she was trying to read through his mind. “The last time we spoke. I yelled at her, it was our last conversation. I'm such a fucking prick.” He snapped at himself, the chair he was sat on flying against the wall as he got up violently. He passed his hands over his head, he couldn't even remember the last time they had been able to hang out. They used to see each other at least two times a week but soon enough, it became once a month, until he couldn't even reply to her texts anymore. Zoe took a step back by his sudden action, she had never seen him being so violent but she knew he was dying inside to see their sibling like that, especially since they were all such a close family. Joe turned to watch Zoe and Alfie, his stare completely blank. “I don't even remember the last time I told her I loved her. What if we can't hear her voice again? She's only 21, the world doesn't have the right to take her.” Joe admitted, his voice barely audible. He sent a look towards Y/N, fighting back the tears stinging at the back of his eyes.

And as he looked back to his older sister, his cheeks were already wet and Zoe walked closer to him, wrapping her arms around him as their sobs were the only sound left in the room. That and the beeping reminding them that she was still here.

[littlepurinsesu]

In Regards to Hugs: No

Title: In Regards to Hugs: No Fandom: Yuri on Ice Characters: Yuri Plisetsky, Yuuri Katsuki, Jean-Jacques Leroy, Seung Gil Lee, Emil Nekola, Michele Crispino, Sara Crispino, Victor Nikiforov Relationships: Yuri Plisetsky & Yuuri Katsuki, Yuuri Katsuki/Victor Nikiforov Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Swearing

*Read on AO3*

Summary: The pork cutlet bowl goes on a hugging spree. It’s disgusting and traumatising and Yuri Plisetsky could have sworn that he saw his life flash before his eyes, but he thinks he understands.

Author’s Notes: The hug scene in Episode 9 has always been one of my favourite moments in the anime. It’s so hilarious and adorable, but there’s also so much potential for some friendship feels between Yuuri and Yurio. So this went from a simple fanfic-isation of the hug scene to a full-fledged fic that got a lot more serious than what I had in mind when I started the piece. Mostly canon compliant, but lots of filling in the gaps to really bring out the relationship between the two Yuris. Because Yurio is an angry tsundere who will never admit how much he cares for his Katsudon.

Silver.

Whether it was the colour or its symbolic value or simply the word itself, Yuri Plisetsky was not happy with it.

He had worked his ass off and almost busted his lungs to execute a perfect free skate performance. For fuck’s sake, he’d even earned himself a new personal best. Yet apparently none of that was enough to stop that Canadian sucker from pushing him to the right side of the podium again. Second for the second time, and Yuri could not be more displeased—with himself, with that jackass, and with practically everyone, because there wasn’t a single person who didn’t piss him off right now.

I’ll destroy that shithead at the Finals. Fucking watch me. Knife shoes or not, I’ll fucking end him.

Yuri’s brows were knitted tightly together and his heavy steps reverberated menacingly as he tramped down the hallway. The aura he was radiating was enough to keep any unwanted people at bay.

‘Unwanted people’ did not include a certain pork cutlet bowl, though. After that frustratingly underwhelming free skate, Yuri had come to the conclusion that he probably needed to give him a good talk (complete with a kick or two) to get him back on track. Maybe he’ll yell at him about this later before the Japanese skater returned home the next day or something.

Yuri rounded a corner in the maze of corridors, hoping to bump into absolutely no one, when lo and behold, who should he chance upon but Yuuri Katsuki himself. The fourth-placer was standing near the wall in a daze, eyes seemingly fixed on nothing in particular as he stared absently into the distance. It was almost odd to not see the balding man-child draped around his shoulders, trying to cheer him up or talk some sense into him. But then again, if that man-child had been present, Yuuri wouldn’t have placed fourth to begin with. Yuri knew this for a fact, because goddamnit, Yuuri Katsuki was better than this.

He was pondering the possibility of giving that pep talk right here and right now when the Crispino twins approached, occupied with some small disagreement that Yuri didn’t care about.

‘Yuuri!’ Sara called suddenly as the pair neared the pork cutlet bowl. She speed-walked the final steps to close the distance, leaving her scowling sibling behind. ‘Congrats on qualifying for the Grand Prix Final! I knew you’d make it.’ She extended her arms warmly, as though welcoming a friendly embrace.

Oh, boy. That obsessive freak of a brother is not going to take this well.

Sure enough, within milliseconds, Michele Crispino had marched right up to them, mouth set in an angular frown. ‘Sara!’ he complained.

Had Sara been asking for a hug? Or had she simply been holding her arms out as a strange gesture of congratulatory pride? Yuri had not quite wrapped his head around the mixed social cues when he saw Yuuri fling his arms around the woman’s slender frame.

‘Thank you,’ he breathed.

Congrats on qualifying for the Final? More like congrats on digging your own grave, Katsudon.

Yuri had to press his lips together to suppress his vindictive snicker as Michele visibly bristled, before squawking out an exclamation of the utmost rage. The flower bouquet he had been holding moments ago went flying as he raised his fists in the air. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?!’ he demanded, with perhaps a little too much passion and force in his voice. If the disturbed Italian man had yelled any louder or harder, Yuri was sure he would have ruptured a vein in his neck.

Yet no horror movie Yuri Plisetsky had mistakenly watched while curled up on the couch in the wee hours of the night could have prepared him for what happened next.

Yuuri Katsuki opened his eyes—if they could still even be called eyes—revealing one of the most terrifyingly lifeless expressions Yuri had ever seen. It was dark and vacant and enough to send an unnerving chill slithering down his spine.

This dangerous gaze was slowly pointed at Michele as Yuuri let go of Sara and latched himself onto her fuming brother instead.

‘Eh?’ Michele spared less than two seconds comprehending his situation before completely losing it. He flailed his arms uselessly, eyes swirling and shoulders practically vibrating as he released a shriek so high-pitched that Yuri had to wonder if it were even possible for a person with a Y chromosome. It was one of the most hilarious cries of distress Yuri had ever been fortunate enough to overhear, and the teen had no shame in his lack of guilt as he mentally thanked the deities for granting him the privilege of witnessing such a spectacle. By now, Yuri was unsure whether he was watching a horror movie or a comedy show.

His amusement was short-lived, however, as a concerned voice rang out from around the corner of the hallway. ‘Was that Mickey screaming?’

A bearded face and a head of chestnut brown hair came into view as Emil Nekola emerged, voice as gallant as a knight’s, ready to sweep his comrade away from danger.

Your comrade has fucking bubbles coming out of his mouth.

Yuri wished he had been joking, but there was no mistake in the scene unfolding before him: Yuuri clutching a mass of glittering purple as Michele lay limp in his arms, eyes blank in a traumatised stupor and a steady flow of froth gurgling at his mouth. The predator now turned those same soulless eyes in Emil’s direction. He put an end to Michele’s misery and freed the foaming man from his grasp, ignoring the dull thud as his body hit the floor and his sister rushed to his aid.

Yuuri’s steps were frantic as he sprinted into Emil’s arms, and Yuri was not so preoccupied with the Italian siblings to miss the ease and amicability with which the Czech man returned the embrace.

‘What’s this? A hugging competition?’ he questioned, cheerful and relaxed as he held Yuuri snug in his arms.

Does the idiot not realise that he currently has a fucking zombie hugger hanging off his shoulders?

Ignorance is bliss, Yuri decided, and he really would feel bad for Emil’s poor cluelessness if he had known the bearded sunshine a little better. But alas, hugs and sunshine really weren’t the Ice Tiger’s forte, so Yuri was content to stand away from the commotion and assume that Emil’s smile was of genuine mirth and not, in fact, a disguised plea for help.

Emil’s beaming face was so bright that Yuri was beginning to feel the need to whip out a pair of sunglasses, so he was quite relieved when the apathetic Korean man appeared and restored some much-needed balance. Seung Gil Lee approached as silently as a skulking cat, but even his phantom presence didn’t escape the hugging maniac. There was an ominous glint in Yuuri’s eyes as he ended the hug with Emil and rounded on his fellow Asian skater instead, tackling him in an unsolicited embrace.

The poor man had no idea what hit him.

Seung Gil failed to register the situation enough to utter some hostile remark about wanting to be left alone, instead only managing to choke out a feeble noise as his face darkened in a manifestation of revulsion and fright. Yuri watched on with a strange mixture of both hilarity and sympathy as Seung Gil’s hands hovered awkwardly about Yuuri’s shoulders, clearly wanting to place them anywhere but on the Japanese man’s body.

At this point, Yuri, being the graciously kind and angelic soul he was, considered stepping in to rescue poor Seung Gil from his predicament and officially putting an end to this mayhem. Agape, right? Unconditional love for all, including those who were suffering. And these people were definitely suffering.

But then Jean-Jacques Leroy sauntered idiotically down the hallway, his unwelcome entrance topped with an equally unattractive smirk as his gold medal flashed obnoxiously from around his neck. The image itself was enough to set Yuri’s teeth on edge again, and the Ice Tiger of Russia internally swore for the umpteenth time that he would wipe that repulsive grin off the fucker’s sorry little face when he knocked him off the podium at the Finals.

And suddenly, the idea of demonstrating his agape didn’t seem like Yuri Plisetsky’s top priority anymore.

Ah, what the fuck. Who am I to deprive Katsudon of another hug? Jean-Jacques fucking Leroy, it’s your time to shine.

There was an irritating swagger in JJ’s gait as he breezed towards them, no doubt engaged in some unintelligent conversation (or monologue, Yuri notes) about his supposed superiority.

‘JJ is—mmph!’

What exactly is JJ? The world may never know. And Yuri had never felt so eternally grateful for the hero that is Yuuri Katsuki, the awe-inspiring saviour who had just rescued humanity from the agony of having to hear JJ speak more than two words at a time. The Japanese skater had thrown his arms around JJ’s build and effectively silenced the lanky idiot, whose mouth was now stretched into the most ridiculously hideous expression Yuri had ever laid eyes on. It was so ugly and so stupid, and it brought Yuri so much joy.

Oh my god. Yuuri Katsuki, you are the light of my life. Holy shit you amazing—

He had spoken too soon.

Yuuri turned.

Huh?

His soulless eyes bore into his final target.

The fuck are you staring at, asshole?

As though in slow motion, Yuuri began to move in his direction.

What the actual fuck? Wait, no. Don’t you fucking think about it, you—shit, no. No! NO!

‘HUHHH?! STAY AWAY FROM ME!!!’ Yuri could hear the cry tearing from his throat as he turned on his heel and fled for dear life.

This is it. This is how it all ends. Yuuri Katsuki was closing the distance with his arms outstretched, and Yuri, the poor deer caught in the headlights, stood no chance against that man’s damnable stamina.

Yuri could have sworn he saw his life flash before his eyes. All the laughter and tears, blood and sweat, love and loss. Every promise he had made to himself and every dream that had yet to come true.

It was all over for Yuri Plisetsky, and at such a young age, too.

What will happen after he is gone? Will the world remember him? Who will feed Puma Tiger Scorpion? His final performance on the ice had suffered a maddening defeat, and he didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to his grandfather…

The image of his grandfather’s smiling face faded and reality gradually shifted back into focus. Yuri was now acutely aware of his surroundings: a dimly lit hallway, the stares of puzzled onlookers, and a pair of arms wrapped tightly around him from behind.

He could not recall when his legs had finally stopped scissoring through air or even begin to fathom why he wasn’t struggling, but Yuuri’s grip was unrelenting as he held the teen’s body firmly against his chest, face buried into his shoulder. Yuri felt a slight tremble in the unsteady rise and fall of the older man’s breathing, and the fingers squeezing even tighter around his upper arms made him swallow the aggressive protest that had been stirring at the base of his tongue. There was a certain sense of unhappiness in the embrace, a kind of loneliness, as though Yuuri was trying desperately to seek out something that he just couldn’t find in any of his previous victims. And from the way his frenzied breathing was failing to slow or even out, Yuri knew that he wasn’t the one, either.

‘The one’? Fuck, sounds like some kind of shitty romance story. That kind of crap belongs in the gross ass world of you and Victor, not—

That was it, wasn’t it? That’s what Yuuri was longing for.

Yuri was no fool. He was very much aware of the reason behind Yuuri’s less than stellar free skate earlier on. The pork cutlet bowl could do so much better, like those times when he had captivated the proud teen prodigy with his entrancing step sequences and flawless spins. Today had obviously not been one of those days, and everyone in the audience and their dogs had probably figured out why.

Silly Katsudon. You won’t find what you’re looking for here… Not even with me, because I’m not him.

Yuri wondered briefly if his part in this sordid hug fest was longer than the others’, or if he had simply lost track of time while fighting between the impulse to kick and shout and the strange urge to reciprocate this one-sided hug. But even if the angry Russian boy were to swivel around and uncharacteristically wrap his arms around Yuuri’s drooping body, it still wouldn’t change anything, would it? He wasn’t the one Yuuri needed right now.

There were many things in this world—perhaps too many, if he was willing to admit so himself—that provoked Yuri Plisetsky’s anger, but never had he considered that this could be one of them. The Yuuri Katsuki he knew could often be a flustered ball of anxiety and insecurity, or sometimes a sensual skater oozing enough sex appeal to rival Christophe Giacometti, and always a kind and simple boy who was sincere, hardworking, and charismatic. Not… whatever this was. This mopey, depressed loser who couldn’t get his shit together and act like the fucking champion Yuri knew he could be. And although this time it wasn’t the Japanese champion’s own fault, it was an infuriating reminder of the cowardly sobs Yuri had heard in the bathroom stall at the Sochi Grand Prix Final, and he hated it. He hated it with his guts, and if he could do something within his power to bring Yuuri back to normal or raise his spirits again, he would fucking do it. Heck, if he could give the pork cutlet bowl something to make him feel warm and safe, to make him feel at home again, then goddamnit, he would give him anything.

But he couldn’t do what Victor does best, nor could he give Yuuri the sense of security he craved, and that upset Yuri even more than the silver medal he had taken off immediately after the ceremony. And before he even realised that he was slowly raising his hand to offer Yuuri a gentle but awkward pat on the arm, the pork cutlet bowl had released him and begun to shuffle away.

Yuri was joined by an assembly of hug victims as they stood, united in their mutual confusion and concern for Yuuri’s behaviour. Michele was wedged between Sara and Emil as they supported his weight (the dumbass still couldn’t even stand on his own); Seung Gil had deigned to situate himself with actual people, risking the possibility of further human interaction; and Yuri himself was miraculously standing less than half a metre from JJ without the temptation to claw his ugly face off.

And as he watched the zombie hugger’s retreating form, slumped and downcast and in desperate need of… of something, Yuri Plisetsky made up his mind. He may not be a certain silver-haired old man, but someone needed to be there for Yuuri right now, and Yuri swore on his skating career that he would fight anyone who dared to jump in for the job before him.

The brown paper bag would probably be slightly soggy and the contents cold by now, but Yuri had many fond memories of his grandfather handing him the steaming pirozhki when he needed a bit of comfort or love. Plus, the ones sitting in his bag weren’t just any ordinary pirozhki, they were katsudon pirozhki—an affectionate invention of his grandfather’s to remind him of the unforgettable taste he had experienced in Hasetsu. And they would serve just as well as a small token of home for the lonely Japanese man as he spent his final night in this foreign country.

‘Where are you going, little Yuri-chan?’

Under any other circumstances, Yuri would probably have grabbed his skates and hurled them at JJ’s face for that wording (not really—his knife shoes were precious and expensive), but tonight, Yuri had more important things to do. The pirozhki were getting soggier and colder with each minute he wasted, but he was sure that they would still taste absolutely divine and hopefully put the smile back on the pork cutlet bowl’s dumb face.

And anyway, it’s not like he had marked Yuuri’s birthday on his phone and had been saving the pirozhki for him in the first place, thank you very much.