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whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump · 3 years

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Febuwhump - Buried Alive

It’s 2 am on February 1rst in NZ, so I can post my first Febuwhump drabble! It centers my superhero whumpee Icarus. The rest of his story will take place a few years later when he’s an established hero, so this is kind of a prequel I guess.

Masterpost here.

CWs: whump of a minor (17 yo), manhandling, burying alive

Icarus is so excited he can barely sleep. It is his first night in the HQ, the big house where all the “Boys Club” heroes live together. The most famous and powerful heroes in the country, and now Icarus is a part of their ranks.

Jordan, their leader, had shown him around the house, and introduced him to the rest of the team. There was Lee, who could start fires in the palm of his hand. Matthew, the healer. Tyler, the telekinetic. And Jason, the speedster.

They had all eaten dinner together, cracking jokes and sharing stories, and Icarus had felt his heart grow warm at the feeling of belonging. It felt like a family. After dinner, Jordan had bench pressed the couch with Icarus and Tyler sitting on it, showing off while Icarus dissolved into laughter. Lee had shown him to his room and bid him good night, and now he lies in bed, thrumming with excitement and already imagining how tomorrow will go, his first day as an official superhero. Eventually, he nods off, a smile on his face and bright dreams in his head.

He wakes when he feels a hand clamp over his mouth.

His eyes fly open, adrenaline surging through him in an instant. Instinctually, his body shoots up, trying to fly away from the unknown threat. Before he can get more than a few feet off the bed, a hand lands on his chest and pushes, and Icarus is slammed back down so hard the breath is knocked out of him.

He gapes, lungs struggling to pull in air, unable to cry out for help or even move. A hood is pulled over his head, and when he’s yanked off the bed he can’t get his feet underneath him in time and ends up being dragged out of his room.

When they reach the hall, he can breathe again, and he fights, yanking against the arms holding him from either side.

“Help!” he screams, and his heart plummets when there is no answer. Oh god, what have they done to my friends?

He plants his feet, pushes up, willing his body into flight and hoping to dislodge the attackers holding him. Before he can escape, an unseen force slams him back to the ground. He groans from the impact, and the attackers take advantage of his confusion to pull him further down the hall.

He hears a door open, and the realization that he is being taken somewhere sends renewed energy through him. He struggles, lashing out with his elbows and feet, but the people holding him don’t budge, and he’s pulled outside with his bare feet scrabbling on the grass.

All of a sudden, he’s spun and thrown down, landing on his back on a hard surface. Before he can get his bearings, he hears something slam down above him. Under the hood, his vision darkens, and it suddenly feels harder to breathe.

He brings his hands up, and to his horror, feels his palms push flat against something, barely five inches from his chest. His hands push out, and collide with wooden walls.

His mind whites out with terror. He is in a coffin.

The claustrophobia and hood combined make it impossible to breathe. He rips off the hood, blinking his eyes to adjust and panting for air. He can barely make out anything, just the shadow of the lines on the planks above him.

His hands come up automatically, pressing with all his strength against the lid, but it won’t move and oh god, oh god, he’s trapped, he’s trapped—

Something lands on top of the lid. Over the thundering of his heart, Icarus thinks he can hear the sound of a—a shovel, and there it is again, the sound of dirt hitting the lid—they’re burying him alive, no, no, no, please no—

Unbidden, a whine slips out of him, high pitched and frantic with terror, and he slams his hands against the lid, pounding his palms against the unrelenting wood over and over.

“HELP! Somebody please help! Let me out! Oh god, PLEASE!” he screams, his voice breaking on the last word. But no one responds, and Icarus is alone, alone and trapped, and he’s so scared he doesn’t know which will kill him first, the fear or the lack of air.

The lid still isn’t moving, and his hands slide down it in a panic, nails catching in engraved paths. They are scratch marks, Icarus realizes with horror. He is not the first to be trapped in here, not the first to die in here, and oh god he doesn’t want to die.

Already, his breaths are coming shorter, and he whimpers, tears sliding down his cheeks at the thought of dying like this. It can’t be like this, it won’t be, he won’t let it, and as he lets out another sob, he feels fear-driven strength surge through his veins.

With a desperate scream, he slams his hands against the lid, levitating his whole body to add to the momentum.

It moves.

It’s just the slightest shift, but it is enough, enough to keep going, so he does it again. And again, and again, until the whole thing has come loose, and dirt starts to trickle in through a crack.

He sobs again, because it’s not over, but he takes a deep breath, holds it, and shoves the lid away from him. Immediately dirt pours on top of him, and it’s everywhere, weighing down his legs, spilling across his face and blocking his nose. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut and forces his arms up, desperately clawing up until he finally feels his hands break the surface. He shoves his arms apart, forces his head up, and then, finally, surfaces.

He gasps, spitting out dirt and coughing, struggling to pull air in as he lifts his head. His eyes are still shut, eyelids covered in dirt. He digs his fingers into the ground, straining to pull the rest of his body free as he pants harshly. Finally, when his feet come free, he lies still, exhausted and shaking.

Then, with a jolt, he remembers. His head shoots up, adrenaline surging through him as he prepares to fight his attackers. He is halfway to his feet, when he freezes.

The faces he sees are not the known ones of the city’s most wanted villains. Nor are they shadowy strangers.

They are his teammates.

As he sways, shellshocked, Jordan looks up from a stopwatch in his hand, grinning.

“Two minutes and twelve seconds!” he exclaims, his voice cheerful. “That’s almost a new record!” He laughs. “Beat Matthew’s time by more than half.”

Icarus looks over at Matthew. The healer is sitting nearby, staring at the ground.

“Wh…what?” he croaks out. His voice shakes.

“Aw, come on man, it’s all in good fun. Can’t be a superhero without some life or death training right?”

Lee snorts. “Oh, it’s training now?”

“Training, initiation, whatever you want to call it. Either way, you survived, so you’re officially a part of the team!” He throws his arms up in celebration at the end of his statement.

Icarus doesn’t know how to respond. He’s crashing, coming down from the adrenaline and the fear that feels like it will live in him forever. He cannot fathom the reality he is being shown, so far removed from his ideas of family and friendship and heroism. His breath hitches, and he swallows back a whimper.

“Oh come on dude, don’t be a baby,” Jordan scolds, no longer smiling.

Icarus recognizes the emotion that creeps through him when Jordan meets his eyes. It’s fear. It freezes his tongue in his mouth, so all he can do is shift his eyes demurely to the ground. It’s enough to appease Jordan. He yawns.

“I’m beat. You put up a hell of a fight.” He shoots Icarus another sly grin, then heads back into the house.

The rest of the boys follow him in, drifting off to their separate bedrooms, until only Icarus and Matthew remain outside.

The healer lifts himself off the ground and comes over to Icarus, who stands still, blank eyes fixed on nothing. Matthew lays a hand on his arm, doesn’t react to Icarus’s flinch. Slowly, he guides him to the ground.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

Icarus blinks. Yes, he thinks, but it is not the kind of hurt that Matthew’s powers can heal.

“Your hands,” the other boy says softly, and only then does Icarus feel the pinpricks of pain radiating from his palms. He looks down. Splinters of wood poke out of the soft flesh of his palms. Blood trickles from a few of the punctures, and several of his nails have broken.

“Oh,” he says dully. He hadn’t noticed.

Gently, Matthew takes his hands. Icarus inhales sharply as he feels the healer’s powers start to take effect. A slow tingling spreads across his hands, and he watches as the skin reforms, pushing the splinters out so they land harmlessly on the grass below them.

“It’s not usually this bad,” Matthew says quietly, not looking up from his work. “Just try to keep your head down. They’ll find a new target eventually.”

He turns Icarus’s hands over, checks that they’re completely healed, then stands and goes back into the house.

Icarus watches him go. He is shaking, even though it’s a warm summer night. He shifts, dirt falling off his pajama pants. He has a feeling they won’t ever feel clean again. He thinks he could stay crumpled out here forever, or at least until the sun rises and there’s a chance of feeling warm again. But that is not what heroes do. Heroes…heroes get back up. So he does, swaying only slightly when he stands, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other to get back into the house.

He freezes at the threshold of his room, taking in the blankets he scattered when he was pulled from his bed. He can’t imagine just pulling them back into place, falling asleep in the bed as if he wasn’t just robbed of his safety in it. Instead, he pulls a comforter to the floor, strips his filthy pajamas, and lies down on the padded cover, pulling it over himself as tight as possible, as if to protect himself from an inevitable attack.

He tries to sleep, he does, but the tears rush out and don’t stop, and even as he tries to choke back his sobs, terrified someone will hear, he can’t stop crying.

He wants to go home.

Another sob forces it’s way past his lips, and he bites down on his fist to muffle the sound.

This place is the closest thing he has to one.

taglist: @whumpinggrounds :) (please let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

#my writing #of heroes and villains #icarus the hero #whump #whump writing #febuwhump #febuwhumpalt1

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swinging-stars-from-satellites · 2 years

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Top five fics you’ve written? :D

I lied, I'm still awake

there must be something in the water 'cause every day it's getting colder, one of my favorite pieces I've ever written for any fandom — 759 words of relationship and character study through the lens of an ice/ocean metaphor. I'm exceedingly proud of the style I managed to use for it, which is probably the most poetic and melodramatic I've ever been lol. (for some fun added context if you don't go to the AO3 page, the title is from Bruises by Lewis Capaldi, I wrote it while listening to We Fall Apart by We As Human on loop for about three hours, and I took major inspiration for some lines from Gravity by Sara Bareilles.)

Though The Truth May Vary, the introduction and opening piece of an ongoing, WIP AU that @fortes-fortuna-iogurtum and I are writing. it's our baby, our brainchild, my beloved.

til' the hospital or american embassy, which is pretty recent. MSR cancer arc ANGST, it's an AU of this one episode where Scully spends the entire time trying to pretend like she's fine when she's Not, just bc she struggles with being vulnerable, so I added some extra whump to it based on a gifset that got me thinking, and it turned into... honestly one of my longer oneshots, bc I don't usually pass 2k lol.

still know your heart and still know both your eyes, my first X-Files fanfic!! I'm proud of it both bc I think I did well with characterizations and relationship stuff, but also bc it's a little bit of a peek into my own world; it's set entirely in the Anchorage Alaska airport, which I've spent a good amount of time in lol and in VERY fond of it there. it's a very liminal fic.

The Kids Aren't Alright, which was... I believe the last Newsies fic I wrote before I ended up with some major writer's block for quite a while. it makes more sense if you've read at least the first fic in the series tbh, but the story is basically just the canon events of the stage musical (the filmed Broadway one with Jeremy Jordan, not the movie with Christian Bale) but like, through the POV of Race, and if the background character of Smalls was more fleshed out. still think about that dynamic i came up with all the time hdjssnsnsk

Honorable mentions:

you can't un-break a heart (I'm sorry, I'm sorry), my prose narration of a pivotal, poignant scene in a series of Doctor Who audiodramas.

In Books Written By Rabbits, my second fic exploring an extremely underrated platonic relationship in one of the Doctor Who spinoff audio series. I worked quotes from The Last Unicorn into more than just the title, which I'm VERY pleased about as it had been something I wanted to do in that fandom for a while.

ask me my top 5 anything

#Lu rambles #asks #Lu writes #ask games

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whumpasaurus101 · 3 years

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Be a Good Guest & Pheonix Collab! Part 3

the amazing Walter and Gabriel belong to @jordanstrophe !!!

Jordan's Masterlist / My Masterlist

CW: drowning / beating / belt whipping / parental whumper / creepy whumper and as Jordan says, *takes a deep breath* parental, overprotective, possessive and intimated whumpers

“So,” Mateo said, running his hand through his grey hair and blowing air out of his cheeks, “Let me get this straight; you two decided to run off and have your little ‘fun’. And please correct me if I'm wrong here!” Pheonix gulped, and closed his eyes, “I told him t-to come, he.... He didn't want to, but I made him I-” He was quickly cut off when Walter backhanded him harshly across his face. Pheonix looked up at him, holding his hand up to his red cheek. His mouth was open from shock. Gabriel let out a whimper.

“Bullshit!” Walter grabbed Pheonix’s collar of his shirt and yanked his head closer to his, “Let me tell you something young man, I can tell when someone lies, and boy can I see bright flashing warning lights coming from you!” Noah grinned a he stood in the hall, back against the corridor wall, arms crossed. He could relax now since Mateo could step in to save Pheonix.

Mateo cleared his throat, “Alright, that's it, Pheonix I don't know what the fuck has gotten into you. Get the fuck into our room.” Pheonix glared at Walter but was interrupted when Mateo grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to their room, calling behind him, “I do apologise, Walter, I’ll make sure my boy is punished. Noah, make sure you get everything my dear amigo wants while Pheonix and I are gone.”

“Si jefe por supuesto.”

---

Pheonix flinched as the hotel room door slammed shut. He took levelled breaths. He had only gotten threats from Mateo. He has seen Mateo mad, oh boy, he had. But never at him. His shirt was yanked and he was dragged into the bathroom. “Kneel,” Mateo ordered. Pheonix, knowing better, knelt, feeling the cold, stone tiles through his baggy tracksuit bottoms.

His heartbeat started racing as he watched Mateo turn on the shower and bath tap. Cold water ran into the bathtub and Pheonix squirmed uneasily on his knees. Mateo turned to Pheonix and put on a fake sympathetic smile, “Now now, don't look at me like that. I'll be honest, you did well, mi amor. I mean, I thought you would break your ‘buen chico’ phase.”

Pheonix looked down at the grey tiles, studying the perfectly aligned squares, “ ‘m sorry.” Mateo scoffed, “Mmhmm, oh you will be.”

---

Walter looked at Gabriel, “Oh Gabriel, whatever will I do with you? I thought I strictly instructed you to stay in our room.” Gabriel gulped, “Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-” Walter held up his hand, silencing him, “Ah-bah-bah-bah, I don't want to hear it, now, let's not waste time, go into our room.” Gabriel looked up at him, “But-”

“-Room, now.”

Walter slowly closed the room’s door, letting out a sigh. Gabriel shifted awkwardly between his two feet. He looked up at Walter with tears in his eyes. Walter tilted his head and cupped Gabriel’s tear-stained face, “Now, now, don’t look at me like that. You know that I’m doing this for your own good. So, what were you think when you decided to try to run off?”

Gabriel gulped, fidgeting with his hands behind his back, Pheonix had taken the blame, if Gabriel told a different story and both of their stories didn't match, Pheonix would get into so much more trouble than he already is in.

He sighed, “I told him to-” He was backhanded. “And now you're lying as well! Jesus Christ! I have done so much for you! I brought you into my house after your car accident I- I took care of you and gave you a roof over your head! And you repay me with this?” Gabriel opened his mouth but didn't dare say a word.

“I wanted to do one thing, one thing for myself, and you had to go and be selfish. Anyway, that's not what’s important. What's important is that you understand that you need to stay with me all the time. I mean, can you imagine what would happen if you were left all by yourself out there all by yourself?”

Gabriel looked at him, “Wh-what?”

Walter shrugged, “I mean, all those mean people out there, and then the manipulators! You shouldn't trust Pheonix, you know?” Gabriel’s eyebrows furrowed, “But-”

“Ah-ah-ah, you don't know him as much as I do.”

No, this couldn't be right, Pheonix had seemed so nice earlier! Walter circled him slowly, arms folded, “But, those stories can wait for later. I mean, as much as I hate doing this, I will have to punish you. I mean, could imagine if I didn't? You would probably try and run away again and again!” Gabriel sighed. He was still so confused about Pheonix, it was all too much for him.

“Kneel for me and put out your hands.”

---

Pheonix thrashed as his head was once again is head was shoved underwater. He had inhaled gallons of water at this point. He could feel as if his lungs were filling up with water. When Pheonix tried to push his head up, Mateo shoved it hard, back into the water, making him bang his head hard off of the bottom of the bath.

Finally, Marco lifted Pheonix’s head up by his hair which hadn't been cut since his capturing. Pheonix coughed and spluttered, heaving for air. “Okay mi amor, feel like talking now?” Pheonix gasped for air, “I-I told him t-” His head was back under the water before he could finish his sentence.

His hands were tied behind his back from earlier when he had hit Mateo by accident from struggling. Just when Mateo felt Pheonix starting to go limp, he lifted his head back up and threw him back on the tiles. Pheonix’s head hit the tiles again, ouch.

“Okay rebelde, I don't want you passing out on me, but I’m not finished either. Pheonix groaned on the floor. He was too tired. Too tired for all of this! Just as he was drifting off, an almost burning sensation lit fire to his skin. He let out a yell and snapped open his eyes.

There was a knife plunged into his arm. “AGH! WHAT THE FUCK!” His voice was hoarse from all of the water. Mateo chuckled, “Calma, calma. Don't mind me, I’m just simply… doodling!” He dragged the knife further down his arm, almost… snake-like. Oh fuck.

---

Gabriel knelt, back facing Walter who stood behind him. His hands were tied to one of the bed’s legs with a zip tie and his shirt had been ripped off. His breath was uneven as the unknown lurked and haunted him. He heard the sound of a belt being unbuckled and he gulped.

“Now remember, I am getting no enjoyment whatsoever firm this. I just hope you learn your lesson so this won’t have to continue.” Before Gabriel could say anything back, the belt was brought down hard against his back. He let out a torn scream as his back lit up with pain.

“Shh, shhh, don't get upset, this is just so you learn.” *crack*

How was this so sore?!

*crack*

This was going to be hell.

---

Pheonix sat on the edge of the hotel’s bathtub as Mateo wrapped a bandage tight around his wound. Pheonix was shivering from the cold water which was still soaked into his shirt, hair and face.

He yelped when Mateo tightened the bandage too tight. Mateo mumbled a, “Lo siento.” But it was more of a grunt. He was still angry at Pheonix. Mateo tucked the end of the fresh bandage and sighed, “I’ll let you sleep on our bed if you just tell me what happened.” Pheonix hung his head, “I told Gabriel to leave his room.”

“Jesús, dame fuerza. Forget it, you sleep in here tonight. Now, I might leave but you’ll be staying in here until tomorrow morning. We’ll see how Gabriel holds up. I bet he has told Walter the truth. No worries though, I'll tell Aurora all about it once we get back home!”

Pheonix gulped and nodded, “I’m- I'm sorry, I just saw how sad Gabriel was and I wanted to see him smile. We-we weren't going to try and run away, I promise! Just when he finished playing the piano. That was his escape from reality and when he stopped, his face just looked so… -empty.”

Mateo chuckled, “Alright, keep it in your pants puta. That's sweet actually, but it still doesn't make up for leaving when I didn't know. You don't understand what Walter is like with Gabriel, he doesn't want him out of his sight! So you better be careful around Walter, I’d say he’ll take any chance he has to punish you,” Mateo chuckled.

Pheonix took a few deep breaths, great, now two people had a strong hating for him.

---

After ten minutes, Gabriel was curled in on himself, sobbing and whimpering. His back felt torn and shredded. The pain was immense. He flinched at the cold hand on his shoulder. “Hey now, shh shh shh. It's alright, it's over. Have you learned your lesson?” Gabriel nodded quickly, taking a few shuddered breaths, “Y-yes! I- I’m so sorry! I won't leave again!”

Walter smiled to himself, “Good boy, and do you understand why I did it?” Gabriel gulped, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, “Be-because you are trying to protect me.” Walter grinned, “Exactly! Look at you! Now, sleep well tonight, you had a big adventure and it’s late. Can I trust you without tying you to the bed?” Gabriel nodded quickly and Walter smiled, running his hand through Gabriel’s hair, “Good boy.”

---

That night, Phoenix laid on the bathroom tiles. Mateo had taken all of the towels, leaving Pheonix soaking wet, shivering and very very uncomfortable. All that was running through his head was what the fuck was going to happen tomorrow?

---

taglist: @milk-carton-offical @jordanstrophe ehheh @kixngiggles @as-a-matter-of-whump @yesthisiswhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

#collab #!!#part three #whump #whump story #whump collab #Gabriel #Walter #Pheonix #Mateo #drowning #beating #belt beating #punishment #parental whumper #creepy whumper #possessive whumper

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 4 years

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Imprisonment - Jordan

oh hey Jordan long time no see

CW: captivity, muzzle, past starvation, past abuse, helplessness, defiant whumpee

[Other Jordan things] (he shares a masterlist with Mel)

Fourteen floors.

That’s how many where in this building; fourteen. Jordan sat on the back of the couch, looking out the floor to ceiling windows.

He was so high up, it felt like the world underneath him didn’t have anything to do with him. The cars that crawled past were like beetles, buildings and strip malls that laid around like scattered children’s blocks. It was a great view of the city, but that’s all it was.

A view.

Fourteen floors, but no one could hear him. The floor under him was storage for the building – at least that what he was told. He knew thirteen was supposed to be an unlucky number, but Jordan was convinced that fourteen was the real cursed number.

Maybe Dennin had lied. Maybe, but if there were people living undeath the studio, they had ignored his screams for weeks. He had tried everything. He had smashed stupid pretentious statues into the floorboards, screamed until his voice was hoarse, pounded on the floor. Nothing. Nothing but shards of ceramics jammed vindictively into his back, a sore throat, and wrists and ankles tapped together and secured to the coffee table.

Jordan stood, the now familiar restlessness settling in his bones. He resigned himself to pacing, up and down along the white shaggy rug. The space was so much bigger than he was used to, bigger than his own apartment, but it was wasn’t big enough. His rinky-dink one-room apartment had been more than enough because he was so rarely there. He was in coffee shops, school, friend’s houses, sketching at the park. But this door was locked, and there was no way for him to get out.

Worse than that, the only other person that he saw was him. The fucker himself; Karl Dennin. Jordan looked at the clock; still nearly ten hours before Dennin was supposed to be back. He would pester and annoy and maybe rough Jordan up a little, but he would also bring food and the key to the damned muzzle still locked around his mouth.

He was so used to wearing it at this point, but he could never seem to forget it. It was a caramel tan fabric over wire and leather. It kept his jaw shut tightly, but didn’t restrict breathing too bad. Which was good, since he had to sleep in the stupid thing.

He missed being able to hurl insults at Dennin in real time, but he was saving up the best ones for a later date. He couldn’t keep the muzzle on him forever, and when it came off Jordan would be practiced and ready for the opportunity.

He paced up and down, hands in his hoodie pouch. Same place, same things. There was nothing to do. The studio was just the bare necessities; furniture, toiletries and some linens. The kitchen was totally empty, but again, muzzle, so it didn’t really matter. No books, no TV, no puzzles or cards or anything.

Just art supplies.

At one point, Jordan might have joked that this was a wish come true. No responsibilities, no distractions; all the time and supplies he would want. But fuck that. This wasn’t how you created things; not under threat of violence and starvation.

Sighing, he sat down against the wall. Dennin was expecting something, and not delivering would earn him just that. The guy had an insanely short temper, blowing up about the smallest of things. Not paying attention when he droned on and on about his day would equal kicks to the ribs, looking at the door too long would mean having your head smashed into the wall. Heaven forbid you flipped him off.

Jordan huffed to himself. God, he wished the days of hunger had been worth it. Maybe right after the next time he ate he would do it again.

Frustrated, he ran his hands through his dark hair. He wanted out, he wanted different, he wanted freedom. Freedom to go wherever he wanted, but also freedom to create whatever he wanted. Not for someone else to turn around and sell, but to express himself. To communicate on another level. He still wanted to create, but he wanted to do it on his say.

Jordan squinted, head cocking to the side as he considered the living room wall. An idea was brewing. He jumped up, grabbing onto the bookshelf to move it out of the way.

Karl got back to the apartment, take out bag in hand. He whistled contentedly as he locked the door behind him, before he stopped.

An elaborate, abstract design caught his eye immediately. Colors matched together in a way that only an artist’s eye would understand, scraped and swirled and patched together. Paint dripped down, not clearly part of the design or a mistake. There was texture and dimension there, not quite lost in the frenzy of the piece.

Karl bristled. Even he could tell that this was a good piece. Something worth some money – or at least, it would have been if it wasn’t painted directly onto the off-white wall. He turned to glare that the artist, perched on top of the couch again, infuriatingly happy with himself.

Karl swore he could see the smirk even under the muzzle.

(vague visual for what Jordan paints)

@whump-me-all-night-long @cupcakes-and-pain @panic-and-chaos @thehopelessopus @just-a-racoon-in-a-party-hat @starnight-whump @jo-doe-seeking-inspo

plz let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tags!

#whump #captivity #past starvation tw #muzzle tw #defiant whumpee #art whumpee #jordan #febuwhump 2021 #febuwhumpday3 #febuwhump

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omnomtonystark · 5 years

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Charmed 2x11

What a weird disjointed episode. All the plot threads started off promising but ended up either a bit odd in execution or making no damn sense at all. There were some good character moments, but the lack of dialogue tie-in between the two main plots made it feel as if I were watching two completely separate episodes. At no point did it seem as if Maggie knew what was happening back home and Macy seemed oddly carefree of the dangerous missions taking place while she was in Aspen. Were some lines accidentally cut out or something? Might be my least favorite episode of the season.

Say no to drugs, kids: Baiting the dealers in New Orleans was a great hook, but the way it played out in the club was underwhelming. Who cares if they resurrected the most accountant-looking guy I’ve ever seen? There hasn’t been enough narrative build-up in that plotline for the story to have any sort of suspense or tension. It didn’t help that all the club scenes were shot terribly, cheap-looking and like the camera guys hated the shaman so much they collectively decided to shoot him from the least imposing angles possible. Shouldn’t have cut in line at the craft table, Ed.

Sergeant Vera and her sidekick: The best part of the New Orleans plot was Jordan fully committing to the insanity he’s been thrown into. He’s proving to be a really admirable guy. And Maggie’s blossoming here in the second half of the season, kicking ass and taking names like a slightly shorter incarnation of Buffy. They’ve got a warm chemistry. I like the idea of them just being good friends but if they end up being romantic, Jordan’s an infinitely better choice than Parker.

Whump whump whump: In a continuing theme of this episode, what started off strong ended up lacking. There was never any doubt that Harry would be alright—either by being cured or dying and then resurrecting again—but that’s fine because stories like this are usually about the characters reacting to the situation. Mel was great but Abigael was confusing and Macy's good moments were marred by the Plot of Contrivance. This thread would be better served if it didn’t hang all tension on what either Abigael or Macy were going to do. Throw some lore in, some intrigue. Whitelighters can’t heal their own wounds? Why? Why does a malignant demon’s poison turn the victim feral? Was the attack more than it seemed? There was so much potential for this storyline.

Butch and Sundance return: Harry and Mel’s friendship in season one was the best and I’m so happy we got a little bit of that in this episode. I wish we’d gotten to see them on their rescue mission, but Mel’s concern and protectiveness over Harry was probably the strongest thread in this plot. More Harry and Mel, please!

Something wicked this way comes: The mistake the writers made with Abigael is making her too ambiguous. I appreciate that they made some effort to develop her character more--bonding with Mel over their mothers was a pretty good moment and her reactions to Harry throughout the episode actually made her seem like a real person--but I always have to stop and think, "Is this real? Is she just acting? Can I believe any word she says? Did she set this all up so she could come to Harry’s rescue?" The uncertainty makes it hard to invest in her character, either as a true villain or someone redeemable. We need to peel this onion, see what makes her tick, get a glimpse of the core to see if it’s rotten or not. She’s as confusing as every mixed metaphor I can throw at her and while that adds mystery, that also detracts from whatever point the writers are trying to make. Her witch side seems to be the key to her motivations so I hope we get more of that.

Days of Our Plot Contrived Lives: Julian and Macy in Aspen started off fine and then quickly devolved into a soap opera. They’ve literally been on two dates (sort of) and suddenly we’ve got Julian’s aunt trying to break it off between them like this is some telenovela/k-drama star-crossed romance? What am I watching? I feel like we skipped several chapters ahead in this story and the writers are ignoring how nothing about this plotline makes sense. Macy getting with Julian while she and Harry are figuring things out away from each other is absolutely fine. It makes sense. Manufacturing the Aunt of Contrivance to push them together doesn’t. This weird melodramatic left turn to insert weight into a relationship that’s literally only existed for one episode really detracted from the main plot. Either the writers are just terrible at their jobs or it’s another indication that Julian is, indeed, evil and manipulating the whole thing.

I think he’s evil: The backstory makes me even more suspicious of Julian. Never trust flashbacks from an Unreliable Narrator. Too many shows have revealed them as outright lies or largely misleading. And I was recently reminded of 2x04 where they encounter the facility with captured supernatural creatures. That was very lab-like, wasn’t it? Very technological. Scientific. Just like the lab where they were experimenting on black amber. Just like the magical devices we’ve been seeing. Just like what Julian’s company is about. I’m leaning more and more towards Julian being Jimmy’s master. Who else but a billionaire would collect supernatural queens?

Favorite shot: Mel throwing the portal between Abigael and her family, literally putting a barrier between them and her. I really liked how Harry walked away from Abigael to stand with the sisters and how Abigael didn’t take her eyes off him until the portal literally obscured her vision. The look on Abigael’s face as she was watching him go almost made me pity her but again, I can’t be sure if she’s just putting it on. And I have absolutely no idea how to read her expression once they leave. Poppy Drayton is too good at being ambiguous.

Favorite moment: A toss-up between Macy telling Harry she’ll kill him if he dies and Mel/Macy combining their powers to revive Jordan.

Funniest part of the episode: Harry shouting “Bollocks!” was hilarious. Rupert Evans’ delivery was perfect. And Julian’s aunt telling Macy to break it off with Julian literally had me rolling. It’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever seen in this show.

#i didn't think i had much to say about this episode #but apparently i do #a bit rambling but i'm too tired to edit this down #charmed 2018 #charmed spoilers #harry greenwood #mel vera #maggie vera #macy vaughn #hacy #jordan chase #abigael caine

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