#and there are good questions regarding robbie himself

[ittybittyremy]

Robbie Daymond’s Fireside Chat is tomorrow, I better see some good questions!!

[huginsmemory]

Ford's Dreams; Attraction and Asexuality

In Bill's quips in TBOB on what the characters dream about, the quip he had on Ford caught my eye: "Sixer dreams about a pop quiz that asks him "what are you attracted to?" He usually writes "I'm attracted to logic and preparation." Not sure what to call that! Plansexual?". Immediately upon reading it, it made me question the implicit meanings of that small blurb, on Ford's sexuality (as someone whose aroace) and on the potential reason why such a dream was reoccurring, which I've explored below:

Extra addition added (Jan 6 2025)!

The first of two pages in TBOB on Bill's quips on characters dreams; this page includes Ford's, Dippers, Mabel's and Wendy's dream comments.

First of all, there are two types of quips Bill makes about the characters dreams. First, and the main type of comment, are negatively connotated, generally close to or even are nightmares. Dipper, about over hearing his parents fight about divorce, Mabel who has nightmares about waddles dying, Wendy who dreams about her Mom, who died, Stan's about Ford getting stuck in his science fair experiment, and Pacifica about the lumberjack ghost and blood that doesn't wash off her hands. Most of these are things that play off subconscious or conscious fears or grief (or memories in relation to fear or grief). The second type of quip, are goofs; such as Robbie's real hair colour, or Blubs and Durland only dreaming about each other (both on the other page, not depicted). So where does Ford's comment for in? At first glance, Ford's dream quip somewhat comes out as a goof (especially considering the horrible things he's gone through and seen). But for a central, serious character, and considering the context of the book, I really don't think this is a goof, but more of the first type of quip, on darker/nightmare sort of dreams.

But if it's is a nightmare, then why would a pop quiz about what he's attracted to be nightmare material?

First of all, regarding the set up of the dream, a quiz explicitly implies that you are being judged on your answer. There is a rubric for right or wrong answers, and someone, in a higher position of power, often in an academic institution, judges you by this. Ford is a character that's been clearly driven for the good first half of his life by excellency in academic achievement, and this implies that it's very important to him to get the quiz correct, to have the right answer, and that he fears being wrong.

Now on the subject matter of what the quiz entails; the subject of romance and attraction. Regarding canon, romance isn't one we get particularly clear images on with Ford, compared to Stan who flirts and literally goes out on a date during the series. We only really ever get two direct human interactions that could be implied to be considered romantic in nature (sorry fiddauthor's, there isn't anything from Ford's side of things that imply any extra feelings beyond cherished friend; Fiddleford in the other hand...). These are when he speaks to a girl at a dance and gets juice thrown on him, and in Journal 3 on the page that decodes on the page about himself to "LITTLE CATHY WHAT A DREAM HELD HER HAND AND MADE HER SCREAM". (There is also technically the one throw away line about Ford dating a siren in one of the Lost Legends comics, which would be the only time we know of Ford actually being in a romantic relationship; but that's something that never gets elaborated on, and when Dipper says that he's literally reading from the Bill page from Journal 3, so I'm unsure on the weight of such a statement). Compulsory heteronormativity aside as demanded by censors, both the implied attempts don't go well, and in the second one it directly implies Ford's six fingers are directly part of the reason why he's undesirable. Ford clearly deeply struggles with belonging around his 'weirdness'; case in point with the whole page about it in Journal 3. In this case, his bad luck in romance as a teen, possibly as a result of his 'wierdness', continues to alienate him from other people. As a result, a quiz focusing on romance may further remind Ford about his 'wrongness' as he doesn't have the socially expected romantic relationship.

Stanford's author pages in journal 3. The cipher on the right page decodes to what is described in the paragraph above. Note his emphasis on feeling alienated.

However, what's perhaps more telling about it is that the quiz asks what are you attracted too?, which is more sexual than really romantic in nature. And it's telling because what Ford puts down is logic and preparation. These aren't physical attributes as one may assume to answer these questions; neither is it gendered, or even really based on a person, but rather left open as the concepts (ie, he doesn't say someone who is logical and well-prepared). This Bill even jokes about, with 'plan-sexual'. And Ford's answer is not a typical 'male' answer (in the toxic sense, but also, just generally, since people experience sexual attraction) which Bill also notes with the joke. This 'incorrect' answer could be construed as another thing that's wrong with him, especially back in the day; emphasizing again Ford's wrong-ness and alienation.

Not to mention, beyond those two instances described above (interestingly, these occur previous to Ford's falling out with Stan, in which after he highly prioritizes academic achievement) Ford shows no interest in romantic relationships. This disinterest in pursuing romance is contrary to a lot of people who are still workaholics who have significant others/hook-up on the weekend in their meager time off. Ford's general disinterest in romance is also something that others him, with how our society puts so much emphasis on romantic and sexual relationships. And this is something that IMMEDIATELY caught my eye as someone whose within the general ballpark of aroace; there is a huge amount of alienation from society when you are disinterested in sexual/romantic relationships. Especially when toxic masculinity expects you to constantly be horny. So having someone ask you that question of what you are attracted too is awkward, and depending on the audience, socially difficult question to field. And often an answer to that comes out sounding exactly like Ford's, based on personality rather than physical attributes, if you don't decide to come out (not that Ford would know queer jargon anyways). So this question, posed in a quiz, with Ford being quite Ace-coded, would bring up these feelings of alienation, along with those about failure on not having the right 'answer' regarding attractiveness and the failure of not having a girlfriend.

The infamous Billford page in TBOB, of 'one thing led to another'. Also note Ford saying that Bill's "really got it all figured out".

Now, beyond that, we're also reading this in the context of TBOB. Even before the new info in TBOB, Ford openly worshipped Bill; and in TBOB it becomes clear that they certainly had something going on between them (cough, one thing lead to another, cough). This suggests that Ford found Bill attractive in some form of attraction, whether romantic, sexual or queer-platonic-ish. This especially so, considering the answer Ford puts down; logic and preparation. Bill, who corrected and furthered Ford's knowledge, who came to him as a being of pure knowledge (logic), and who helped him plan the portal, who ironically also had other plans of world domination beyond that (preparation). Bill fits the description, even if he's not human, but Ford's not bothered by that, Ford's a freak himself and it's clear in finding that acceptance he's ecstatic (freak4freak). And that attraction, that care Ford had/has for Bill? Now that's something that's horrifying, something that's filled with guilt, terror, and also embarrassment and fear of how others will react; case in point with Ford literally ripping those journal pages out so the others don't know about the extent of his and Bill's relationship, and in TBOB he acknowledges that. And that's not to mention the potential additives of negative emotions from failing to have attraction for the right person, from failing to meet toxic masculinity standards, and the emphasis of being a freak that made him fall for Bill. Now that's emotionally negatively charged for a fucking nightmare.

Like. Fuck. What are you attracted too? The being that I thought was a god of pure knowledge and thought that strung me along like a fish on line with bait of knowledge and companionship, and I ate that bait, hook, line, and sinker, so deep within my belly I fell in love with him; the being that betrayed me, that wants to destroy my world and used me to do it. The being I shouldn't even love in the first place, because you're supposed to love what's normal, but I've never been able to do that as a freak show. The being I've spent half my life hunting down to kill. And now here I am, with this fucking mess of my own making, after threats and torture and the world ending, and some small fucking part of me still loves him.

So, yeah. I don't think that's just a comedy line. I think that's a line that potentially has way more about Ford's feelings of alienation, of his failure to be attracted to the right person, of guilt and fear around his relationship with Bill, and especially so of others perceiving it.

EDIT (05/01/2025): Also for your consideration, as mentioned in the tags by @vespertin-y and @5p4ced-0ut, these DIRECT QUOTES BY FORD IN TBOB. ABOUT WHY ONE WOULD MAKE A DEAL WITH BILL.

All the scenarios listed by Ford apply to himself;

You're at a desperate low? Failing to find, or prove the universal weirdness theorum; but really, truly beneath that, being basically completely alone for all the years since college, and being desperately lonely and seeking affection and acceptance.

Lost something dear to you? A bit more abstract, but Ford's alone, and he's alone because he chose to lose Stan, to seek acceptance through academic achievement. And it's his loneliness that truly drives him to Bill; not academic achievement, even if that's part of the reason. He's trying to fill that void of love and acceptance thats been there since Stan left. That's something that's dear to him that he's lost. Although it could also just be a nod to Bill's magic, in that he can use it to fulfill things.

Throes of all-consuming monomaniacal ambition? Do I need to say anything about this? Ford caused the apocalypse (partly) out of his ambition.

Now of course these all lead up to the very last one: or perhaps you're just attracted to things that hurt you? This heavily implies Ford's felt, as I outlined above, some sort of attraction to Bill.

It's also a strong thing to say about their relationship. What's interesting about this one, is that at the beginning, their relationship wasn't a painful relationship for Ford; codependent as fuck, sure, but no one was actively hurting the other. It wasn't until they began to become jealous and petty with each other when Fiddleford began working that there is resentment and emotional pain, and then there's the big reveal, and all there is of their relationship for Ford is emotional pain and betrayal. In that manner, he wasn't originally attracted to Bill because of masochism in the literal sense; but rather due to rather an attraction built on genuine connection and companionship that ultimately ended horribly.

So basically, the 'attracted to someone that hurts you', is another line that falls under the heavy implication that Ford felt some sort of attraction to Bill; and that Ford struggles with shame and guilt around his attraction to Bill, especially as the comment is actually a lie (a common abuse victim lie) that minimizes their relationship, especially from Bill's side.

But he still says the sentence. So why is he lying/believing he's telling the truth? That comes down to what he's trying to diminish, and the guilt he has around attraction. The sentence, written of course post series when Ford is deeply jaded about Bill and his relationship, is written in a deeply bitter way. And it's a very self-directedly bitter way! Of course the being I fall in love with ends up betraying and hurting me; I never can do anything correctly. By saying that 'he's attracted to pain', he implicitly within the statement blames himself for the abuse, construing it as some way inevitable that this would occur due to his 'wrong' nature, especially around attraction as evident above. This self-blame and 'inevitability' is actually common to those who have low self-esteem and are victims of abuse, which Ford is. Ford already is shown to feel guilt and shame around his attraction to Bill for various reasons, such as the failure to be attracted to the right being, and doubly so with it ending up being an abusive relationship. This self-blame of 'i'm attracted to pain' denies that Ford was seeking genuine connection, and found it in Bill; it construes Bill as always having hurt Ford. Which is untrue! But this does function as a way to suppresses Ford's possible remaining positive emotions he has around Bill (by demonizing him as something horrible, understandable as he's been trying to kill him for 30 years) and also provides Ford an illusion of power over the situation; of course I had and remained in a relationship with Bill because I enjoy pain. It's easier to say (and delude yourself you like it, and you abuser may even encourage that, to avoid the pain) then admit you don't know how to escape, or fear escaping. And I think Ford did just that.

(Also, side note: What's also a kicker is that we are creatures of habit. So relationship dynamics we grow up in, are often ones we tend re-create later in life, because those are dynamics we are comfortable in, even if they are terrible dynamics. But that doesn't mean that it will always, nor have to be recreated. In some way, Ford did this; he recreated a dynamic from his father, in always looking up to Bill, and requiring praise from him to support his self esteem.)

Also, contextually, this negative recount of Bill makes sense as it's functioning as a warning for the reader within the page; informing the reader that no matter what, Bill will hurt you if you make a deal. This embarrassment and shame about Bill is contrary to some readings, in which Ford confesses to having cared about Bill; but this page is early in TBOB! It's before the pages all the rest of the family put in; it's possible this page was added 'before' the rest of the family read TBOB and Ford comes to acceptance with his feelings around Bill.

[itwasanangryinch]

To quote the Knebworth show: That was fucking brilliant!

Much has been made about the Robbie Williams biopic 'Better Man', now screening, from the US uninitiated questioning who the fuck Robbie Williams even is to European stalwarts questioning why one of the world's biggest pop stars would choose to portray himself as a monkey. All this blather is... simply that. Noise.

Much like Rob himself, you either get the film or you don't. From subtle inclusions like the Eternity melody playing orchestrally during his relationship with Nicole Appleton to the Northern Scum beanie Robbie wears while recording with Take That, the film is dotted with references for longtime Inner Sanctum friendlies.

When they first announced this concept, I was skeptical. The monkey, of course, made sense as a through-note: the allegorical connections with drug addiction, the perpetual feelings of being a dancing monkey (previously addressed in the documentary Nobody Someday), his cover of swing classic Straighten Up and Fly Right (used in the film as his audition song to Nigel Murray-Smith), and of course, his own feature-length song Me and My Monkey. But compared to well-loved biopics like George M. Cohan's 'Yankee Doodle Dandy' or Johnny Cash's 'Walk the Line', choosing to replace your lead actor with a CGI simian is... a choice. It's audacious. It's bold. It's... Robbie.

With a strong supporting cast including Steve Pemberton (Doctor Who, Blackpool), Damon Herriman (Justified, Lambs of God), and Kate Mulvany (Lambs of God, 'The Great Gatsby'), 'Better Man' largely plays off of the dual charisma of "Robbie Williams" as a performer and "Robert Williams" as the man performing him. And Jonno Davies easily remixes the physicality of Rob with what we've come to expect from movie monkey physicality. Thanks to motion capture, the expressions and eyes are pure Williams.

For those familiar, the scenes with cocaine, booze, heroin, and other sundry vices won't come as a surprise except perhaps in regards to the frequency with which they occur. On the New Year's Eve edition of Graham Norton, Robbie said the first bit of it is good fun while the back half is 'Trainspotting.' While not quite as bleak as the Scottish classic, 'Better Man' functions as an equally effective PSA on the toll addictions have on your personal relationships.

If there's one thing you can say about Robbie Williams it's that he's never been afraid of being seen as a twat. As he says early on, "It's not like they were saying anything about me that I wasn't already thinking about myself." And unlike certain sanitized life stories that set out to show their subject as the best versions of themselves, 'Better Man' leans into Robbie's flaws and self-destructive behavior.

In talking about the film's US box office takings, NME quotes back their own middling review saying: "This is ‘Rudebox’ on film." And much like that under-loved album, you'll either get it. Or you won't. (They didn't in regards to either.) But if the audience scores are anything to go by, those who have seen the film, definitely do get it.

-

10/10, now showing.

[youhavenoideahowbadiwantthis]

I've been waiting to watch The Outwaters since I heard about it a few months ago. I love found footage and I love cosmic horror. Mash them up and you've got yourself a stew.

I found a few days ago that it was available on VOD so I got it for $13. That's a pretty sick part of the COVID film release trend. Love when brand new horror comes out to own for the price of a movie ticket.

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

I'm going to just say the very common disclaimer: "this film is not for everyone."

A bunch of friends go out to the desert to film a music video, apparently. There are constant mysterious booms and shrieks. Desert animals exist around them. A bloody axe man chases them around and kills them. The cameraman/main character (Robbie) wakes up in a pool of blood and looks for his friends and there appears to be a time loop and maybe he's the axe man. There's an, apparently, big, practical effect creature that makes noise at him. Then he finds his dead friends' heads and cuts off his penis and disembowels himself with an animal tooth.

End.

So, if you're reading this, you're probably frustrated at how lazy and lackluster that synopsis was. Right? Now you know how I felt watching almost 2 hours of it.

I promise I will discuss WHY I feel this movie is one of, if not the biggest piece of shit I have ever watched in my life, but first, I want to dissect this movie through other people's words.

"Banfitch has a clear talent for character development, which is thrown out the window as soon as the true horror begins. Yet, getting to know his cast of characters only makes watching their annihilation more gut-wrenching in the end." - Grace Detwiler, Rue Morgue

If you think this character development is outstanding, I'm excited for you to watch literally any other movie, ever. He attempts to create the candid, real characters or Benson and Moorhead films, but they end up one dimensional, typical found footage characters. Think Paranormal Activity characters, but not even douchey enough to be interesting.

"...will likely be most effective for viewers who are strongly affected by the power of suggestion." - Grace Detwiler, Rue Morgue

Lol. I mean...yes. Correct.

"...[transforming] the found footage format into something far more transgressive..." - Meagan Navarro, Bloody-Disgusting

If the boundaries that are being crossed are "good overall filmmaking" into "bad", you're still wrong. Many found footage movies have done that. This is uniquely bad, however, so maybe there's a point there.

"...the film is more interested in immersing us than it is in answering any questions. In this regard, it completely succeeds as it spends longer and longer getting lost in the landscape that has become distorted." -Chase Hutchinson, Collider

Ok, let's talk about this, specifically.

At no point, was I immersed in this movie. The first 20 mins are the, supposedly incredible, character-building, that can really just be boiled down to the phrase, "hurr durr, you reminds me of your parents." I promise, you may relate to the dialogue between these characters, but you're better than them. Seriously. This entire build up is filmed with the tightest camera work I've ever seen. This man forgot to zoom out and he moves the camera quickly and often. You will get sick.

Then they're in the desert. The camera is slightly better because you have a vast landscape behind people most of the time, so it isn't as disorienting. But God help you, he will manage to examine every nook and cranny of a bush and the inside of their tent and the one girl's face, over and over again.

The night time shots are so much worse. Half the time, he's filming with a normal light source that illuminates a large enough area to provide tension so that you only recognize so much of what is on screen. The other half is lit by a gas station pocket flashlight using batteries from the early 2000s. I, like many other people in this day and age, have a large television. So when I have a 65" TV (1809 Sq. In.) and about 1/6 of the movie is filmed through a 3" diameter pinhole, I'm gonna be upset. The power of suggestion does not trump the power of wanting to watch a fucking movie.

Apparently, there was a large, maybe practical effect monster. Couldn't tell you, because it was filmed through this dipshit pinhole. If I spent the money to build a monster for a movie, YOU WILL FUCKING SEE AT LEAST 20% OF THAT MONSTER FOR A FEW SECONDS.

The story was run of the mill. The themes and characters were as deep as a teacup. The cinematography was fucking trash, even for found footage.

This was like a visual representation of a Chainsmokers song, but they were trying to make a black metal song, but the only black metal they've heard was Deafheaven, but the only Deafheaven they've heard was Ordinary Corrupt Human Love, but they recorded it in mono.

Also, a lot of people are comparing this to Skinamarink. Stop. Both films are frustrating and work on the power of suggestion. However, Skinamarink actually leans into the suggestion. It gives you vague pieces to tell yourself a story. Outwaters gives you a story and then lazily slops out blurry garbage that has been done better many times before over the course of almost 2 hours and then just kind of ends. I was not a huge fan of Skinamarink, but in my opinion, it is far more worthwhile than Outwaters and it's insulting to Skinamarink to conflate the two.

I will not say that I could make a feature length film. I don't have the talent or creativity. It's easier to sit and judge than to actually do something. Maybe Banfitch should take a break to reassess his influences to see what makes them worth watching, because this movie is evidence that he has missed the mark.

I hope he gets better.

If you want to watch the movie, sure, go ahead. If you want to watch something that will actually entertain and/or challenge you, might I recommend the following:

Resolution, Spring and The Endless are all wonderful pieces of eclectic cosmic horror by Benson and Moorhead. Good characters and intriguing concepts without giving away every detail.

Banshee Chapter by Blair Erickson is an incredibly underseen cosmic/conspiracy horror film that predates Stranger Things by several years, and in my opinion, does it better (horror-wise).

Bellflower by Evan Glodell is not exactly horror, but is a film that I feel Banfitch to inspiration from. The character development is on point and organic and it has sort of the mumblecore feel that I felt Banfitch was trying (and failing) to develop in the first 20 mins of his movie.

These are just suggestions that I think all do a significantly better job in every respect than Outwaters.

Just my opinions.

Thank you for listening, though I'm not sure why you would.

[seehowsupplethespineis]

So...EARTHSPARK! Let’s talk about EARTHSPARK!

First of all, I HECKING LOVED IT! Pretty much binged it all the second I had free time.

I thought I’d feel indifferent toward it, in all honesty. I’m usually not a fan of new characters introduced to a long-running franchise. Also, Optimus’s design really threw me and his voice is just...not good. I am in no way implying Alan Tudyk isn’t an awesome voice actor; he just doesn’t fit how I think Optimus should sound. Plus, I am never a fan of OG voice actors like Peter Cullen being passed up for the roles they literally created. All in all, I figured Earthspark would be a vaguely amusing romp that I probably wouldn’t rewatch. HOW WRONG I WAS.

Here’s a breakdown (heh, Breakdown) of why I love this show:

- It’s a refreshing take on the story we already know! Outside of the comics, no Transformers media has explored the aftermath of the Autobot-Decepticon war or what that could mean for Earth. The introduction of the Terrans fits into this theme perfectly and I am so excited to see what future role they’ll play in Transformer-human relations.

- THE ACTION. Listen, that fight scene in Age of Evolution Part 1 was LEGIT. I especially loved how we got to see the fight from the humans’ perspectives; very reminiscent of TFP. It made the danger feel so much more real and intense! Plus, the fight choreography throughout the show was so well planned-out and served to showcase each Transformers’ unique skills (like Twitch’s wind tunnels or Megatron freaking pinwheeling himself through the air).

- The new characters are so lovable!!! I absolutely adore Twitch and Thrash and cannot wait to get to know the three Terrans introduced in the finale (they’re already so personable). The human Maltos were just SO wholesome and honestly some of the best humans introduced in the whole franchise (if not the best). Alex is my favorite; I love dorky dads!!!

- It’s got that good family content! I love how the terrans and Robby and Mo all regard each other as siblings, even calling each other “big sis” and “little brother” and so forth. Dot and Alex were also so welcoming to their new “terran babies” and it just made me so happy! More wholesome family content, please!!!

- Speaking of the terrans, I’ve got to shout out our first canon non-binary Transformer, Nightshade!!! Maybe I’m being optimistic, but I really hope this opens the door for further trans representation outside of the comics. We need more trans and non-binary Transformers!!!

- This version of Megatron might actually be my favorite. As much as I love the purely evil G1 Megan or the maniacal warlord TFP Megan, I appreciate when Megatron is given a motive beyond “Muahaha, I will destroy you all!” I love that he was shown to actually care about the Decepticons who used to serve him and that he questioned G.H.O.S.T.’s actions when even Optimus didn’t (or didn’t want to).

- The inclusion of fan favorites was well-executed! Swindle, Wheeljack, Arcee, Elita One, and Soundwave all contributed something to the plot on top of just being their lovable selves! Oh, and Starscream’s cameo was quite exciting (especially since I immediately recognized Steve Blum’s voice).

- There’s a lot that still needs explaining. What is the connection between Mandroid and Alex? What are G.H.O.S.T.’s true motives? What’s Soundwave planning? I need to know!!!

This is all just to say that I am impatient for more episodes! In the meantime, I will attempt some fanfic!

[luimagines]

Coul I request the chain reacting to meeting the reader who is Wild's sibling? (If background is needed shrieks science and them whatever purchase did so the reader is just sorta- 15-28 )

Masterlist

I don't understand the second sentence but I think I can infer what you're trying to say. And even then, I came up with a backstory that more less fixes it regardless so yay!

Wild is everyone's favorite chaotic creative sibling!

And I went for older sibling because reasons and just assume that sibling! Reader is in their early twenties.

Content under the cut!

You woke up one day in Hateno village, quietly aware of the silence that echoed through your house.

You miss your brother.

Not that he was here often with his Goddess given assignment nor did he even know who you were for the first half of it.

What a day that was.

Your little brother back from the dead, scars and all and then some... but he had no idea who you were.

It hurt to say the least. But you were told it would happen once the news reached you. He would wake up one day to finish his duty but he would not remember anything regarding his past life.

Even when he found you again, after he somehow remembered you, you didn’t know where to begin.

You just knew that you were so happy to be together again after so long that you hugged him as tight as you could and told him that your door was always open.

To say you both cried is the understatement of the century. It was wet and ugly and messy and neither of you really talk about it but it felt good that day.

And while you both knew he couldn’t stay for long with his adventure being no where near complete. He did come home for the night after he set that travel medallion of his by the front door.

But that was then- before the Calamity was defeated.

Now that it’s gone- so is your brother. Again.

On a different quest this time, it seems.

You don’t understand why your baby brother of all people has to be the one to do it and you would like nothing more than to wrap him up in a blanket and shield him from anything else that comes to hurt him- but he never let you do that as a child- let alone now.

You begin the day like any other and try to get as many mundane chores done as you can before you finally try and get the stable in the back fixed up.

You noticed Link had an affinity to horses and had checked in with the nearest stable to see that he had some lodged under his name.

There’s a place at the house, darn it. Lodge them here. It just needs to be fixed.

With your goal in mind, you lose yourself to the work and the time passes effortlessly.

It’s around noon by the time you hear it.

The familiar sound of activation that gets your heart pounding in relief and unbridled joy.

You drop your hammer and run to the front of the house with the largest grin on your face. “You’re back, you Rug Rat! Come here!”

You single him out instantly amongst the group and tackle him in a hug.

He’s long stopped trying to fight on you on this and has also returned your crushing hug with one of his own. “I’m back.”

“You brought friends too.” You grin and give the group a two fingered salute. “And here I was afraid that this loner child would end up dead in a ditch somewhere and I would be none the wiser. Thank you for looking after my little brother. I’m aware he’s a handful.”

“Ok thanks.” He says.

“Little brother?” Someone from the group asks. They’re lost amongst the sea of head but you nod regardless.

“Yup. I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday.” You grin and put your hands on your hips, introducing yourself right after. “Any friend of Link’s is a friend of the family. Come in, come in. Make yourselves at home. It’s not much but it’s ours. Been in the family since before the calamity struck. Let me wash up a bit and then we can get some food going, yeah?”

“I’ll start up the stove.” Link says and you’re about to disagree. After all, he just got home and should rest while he can but he ahs the most unburdened smile on his face that you can’t bring yourself to deny him.

 “Alright.” You sigh and head to the back where the shower is. It’s always been small and a bit cramped and the door stopped fitting correctly about ten years ago but now that’s it’s not just you anymore, you can go around into the giving the house the TLC it deserves.

But you’re starting with the stable in the back.

When you’re finished and you’ve dried yourself off, you get into the house to find it in a delightful array of colors and chaos.

Each of the boys seemed to have made themselves completely at home in the time you were gone and you leaned against the door frame, watching them all interreact.

Your brother didn’t waste any time with getting the stove up and running. You can smell the beginning of lunch getting cooked and it appears that Link has wrangled two of the boys to be his helpers. One appears to be the youngest with bright wide eyes and a similar blue tunic to that of Links and the other looks to be  slightly more timid in the process. He’s around the same height as Link but darker hair and a long white cape still clasped around his shoulders. 

You recognize the Master Sword strapped to his back.

Making a note of that you look around the room again. Three of them have made themselves comfortable at the table. One is easily the biggest guy of the group, red and blue tattoos on his face and scar over his eye as he watches the others go about the admittedly small house. The other two look to be the same size and you’re sure you can look them in the eye if you needed to. They’re talking to both each other and the group that’s cooking. One has a wolf pelt on his shoulder with more tattoos on his face and other is a knight if you’ve ever seen one with a bright blue scarf around his neck.

You’re not one to judge your brother’s friends but you make a mental note to watch him in case he tries anything.

Two of the boys- one with pink hair and the other have the most solid brown mane of the whole group have made themselves spares and are talking quietly to each other and not making a fuss.

The final one looks to be the smallest but he’s got an older glint to his eye that recognize well. He’s wearing arguably the most color tunic of the group with those four patches sewn together. He’s tucked himself away into a corner with a book out, not interacting with either of them outright but he has been looking up and adding his two cents to the older’s conversation at the table.

They don’t notice you’re back which is a testament to how tired they all must be.

They’re an interesting bunch.

But Link did always surround himself with interesting people.

So you’re not really surprised.

“Sooo...” Pinky starts off, calling your bother’s attention. “You have an older sibling?”

“Yup!” He answers, not looking up from the pot. “They were waiting for me the whole time, and even manage to keep the house. Up keep still needs to be done but we’ve been working on it together.”

“But they’re older.”

“Yes. We’ve established this.”

You have to hold back your snort.

“You were asleep for one hundred years.” Four Patches speaks up, closing his book silently. ”Shouldn’t they... ummm...”

“Be dead?”

“Or at least really old?” Mr. Brunette hops in, trying to lessen the blow of the sentence.

“You’re like one hundred and seven teen right? Wouldn’t that put them at being one hundred and twenty something?” Wolf boy offers.

“I guess so. Yeah. They were old at some point.” Link stops stirring and you can see him try to run the numbers in his head. “I know that much. The village talks about them being really old sometimes, but I guess that was years ago because it’s only from the older folk that live here.”

“But they lived through those one hundred years, didn’t they?” Blue Baby Face speaks this time.

“That’s what they told me.”

“So....” The knight tilts his head and tries to put his hands out as if that would help answer the question. “They’re like the Old Man then? Old in their head but young on the outside.”

“You can say that, yeah.” You say and take extreme satisfaction at the way most of the jump at your voice. “Unlike Link, I was alive the whole time he was asleep. I’ve got grandkids in Lurelin and they visit from time to time but someone had to at least keep the house up and running, might as well have been me.”

“I...” Link starts as he takes the food off the burner. “I never asked you how you stayed young, did I?”

“Nope.”

“Oh.” He looks away and deflates a little. Link looks a little disappointed with himself and that won’t stand in this house.

“I didn’t realize it was that important. And I’m going to assume you’ve explained most of the situation Rug Rat.” You laugh a little with a raised eyebrow. “You can blame Purah. You know she wanted to find a way to keep the old from aging, right? It’s why she’s in the body of a little kid again. But when she tried the second formula she realized that if she tried it on herself that it might as well but poof her back into a baby and she wanted to contact Robbie but he’s too far and too old to make that trip. I volunteered.”

“Really?”

“It still didn’t really work, I was transformed into a teenager instead of a child- a horrible time to exist really. But I suppose it was a blessing in disguise. By the time this one-” You step into the house fully and ruffle Link’s hair. “-came back, it left us with the same age gap as before. So in the end I can’t complain.”

“Why’d you volunteer?” Cape guy leans on the wall. “There’s only so many times you can test it, right? Who’s to say it wouldn’t have been worse?”

“Yeah, what if it did transform you into a baby again and you forgot everything?” Four Patches stands up and comes to stand by the table, putting his book on top of it. 

“I wanted to take the risk.” you shrug and pull your brother into a hug. “Is it a crime to want to see my baby brother again not matter the cost?”

“Get off.” He whines.

You laugh but do as he asks. “It was never said when he’d be back. Only that he would. I was willing to buy as much time as needed to be there for him.”

“I didn’t remember you...” He mutters to himself.

“You now, don’t you?” You punch him gently. “We’ve talked about this. It’s ok. I knew it was going to happen. It wasn’t going to stop me. Ganon himself couldn’t properly get rid of me. I’m not leaving your side anytime soon.”

He smiles and turns to hug you.

“Now where’s your wolf friend?” You ask. “Are you still traveling together? There’s something I wanted to give him.”

Wolf Pelt shimmies in his seat for a second but you don’t think much of it.

Link shakes his head. “Not right now but he has been coming by every now and then.”

“Well it’s good he’s still around to look after you then in my stead.”

“We have a horse though.” Link tilts his head up to grin at you. “It’s not the same but her name is Epona.”

Familiarity stabs you in the heart and you know it’s something that Link even remember even if he lives another one hundred years.

He was too little when she passed.

“...Like dad’s old horse. Can I see her?” You say with a light constriction in your throat. “How crazy would it be if they looked alike?”

“Dad had a horse?”

“You wouldn’t remember her, you were too little. I barely remember her as it is but yes, he did.” You take a step back and motion back towards the door. “Maybe after lunch you show me. We can bring her to the back and measure up how the stable is. I’ve been fixing it up.”

“Really!?” Link blinks, an excited glint appearing in his eyes.

“Yes. That’s what I was doing when you first came in. But let’s eat first.” You put your hand to the small of his back and push him gently in the direction of the table. “And then you can tell me about your friends and this new adventure of yours.”

[fallen-gravity]

Fightin’ Back Ch 2

That's why I'm so tough on Dipper. So when the world fights, he fights back

or,

five times Stan helped Dipper recover from a rough encounter with the supernatural, and one time Dipper returned the favor.

~

Here’s Chapter 2: Fight Fighters, this time around!

bit of a content warning for this one: this chapter takes place following Fight Fighters, and I like to think the injuries Dipper sustained are a bit worse than just "get up and walk around fine". Sometimes the need to comfort hurt overrules cartoon logic in my brain.

No hospital scene in this chapter, but lots of conversations regarding chest and rib injuries in this chapter. If you're squeamish to that sort of thing, proceed with caution.

AO3

Maybe the reason Stan recognizes the truck pulling up without even seeing it is because of all the time he’d spent memorizing car types by the sound of their engines back in Colombia. When you’re on the run from a mob boss, it does wonders to differentiate similar looking cars from each other when you’re trying to figure out if the coast is clear when your life depends on it.

He still remembers the pattern of Rico’s car, the way the engine would make quiet tut tut tut tut sounds when he was driving real slow along the path of a dirt road. 

Or maybe he just recognizes this car, since he’s heard it pull up to the Shack parking lot every day since its owner turned sixteen and could finally drive himself, even on the days when he wasn’t scheduled to work. Stan would always try brushing him off with fake annoyance, he’d try sending him home to no avail, but deep down Stan really appreciated that there was someone in town that chose to be in his company for something other than necessity. 

Either way, Stan can recognize Soos’s truck pull up without even getting up from his recliner, and boy does he have a story to tell. He can already picture the stars in Soos’s eyes as he embellishes his tale of how he rescued Mabel from the water tower as it came crashing down, and how the adrenaline from saving his grand-niece’s life cured his fear of heights. He straightens his posture up in his chair, takes a sip from his soda, and waits for the inevitable moment Soos is gonna walk in and sit down on the living room floor like he lives at the pace. 

...but that moment doesn’t come, because Soos never walks through the front door. Stan can hear the muffled sound of Soos talking to Dipper, though he can’t really make out what they’re saying. Soos asks Dipper a question, going by the change in the inflection of his voice, and there’s a long pause before Dipper replies. 

Another long minute passes before the door opens and Dipper walks in by himself. Stan’s about to question him on it, but his mouth closes when he sees that Dipper’s favorite vest is nearly torn to shreds, and his shorts have identical holes in each leg that reveal his scraped knees. Most of his face is blocked off by his pine tree cap, and even the color of that has faded from a pristine white to an unpleasant shade of light brown, caked with dirt and grass stains.

That’s right. The whole reason he’d been hiding out at the arcade all day is because that obnoxious teenage boy with the horrible singing voice had challenged him to a fight over....what, Wendy’s honor, or something? Stan doesn’t know, he usually avoids petty teenage drama like the plague. 

Stan settles for a shrug of his shoulders, and raises his soda can to Dipper as if it were a chalice. “How’d it go, Hercules? You win the girl over, or what?”

Dipper’s laugh is weak in response. He removes his hat to wipe some dirt and crushed leaves from his hair, and it’s when he finally meets his gaze that Stan notices that one of his eyes is swollen and bruised shut. 

“Hah,” Dipper tries for cocky, and it fails miserably when his voice cracks. “You should’ve seen the other-” 

He’s suddenly overcome with an intense coughing fit before he can finish his sentence, keeling over and gripping tightly to his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping his little chest from shattering to pieces. His coughs waver in-between wheezes as his breath hitches like he’s about to start crying from the pain of it all. 

Stan’s up to his feet as soon as he recognizes the motions.  He’d had his fair share of experiencing the same thing Dipper’s going through back in his boxing days. When you fight in an underground ring that once stood as an abandoned speakeasy, your competitors never really followed the standard guidelines of a clean fight. You can only get hit in the chest with a boxing glove underlined with sharp rocks or brass knuckles so many times before you’re bound to crack a rib or two. 

But...there’s no way, right? That Robbie kid that’s always coming into the gift shop to flirt with Wendy looks as though he couldn’t weigh more than a pound heavier than Dipper, and for all his tough guy talk and bleeding heart hoodies he still won’t look Stan directly in the eyes when he addresses him.

“Kid…” Stan takes a knee, and Dipper flinches when Stan gently touches his shoulder. “What happened to you?”

“Oh, you know…” Dipper rolls his eyes, subtly avoiding eye contact with Stan. “Robbie and I were gonna fight, but then we, uh, overheard these two other really tough guys duking it out with each other, and, uh, we didn’t wanna get them in trouble with the police!” He flashes a grin. “So we put our differences aside and...tried to tear them off of each other. But wouldn’t ya know it, these guys thought we were attacking them, see? So, uh, they started beating on us, but uh...we eventually got them to stop so we could explain everything, and we all had a good laugh about it” 

Stan raises a skeptical eyebrow. He’s not sure how the kid’s even related to him, if he’s that bad a liar. He honestly would’ve been more convincing if he’d said he’d given himself the black eye, or just said that Robbie just stuck his foot out and tripped Dipper before walking away. But before Stan can question him again, Dipper’s coughing fit returns, and he drops to his knees, gripping his chest like he was suffering a heart attack. 

Whatever Robbie did to him, he clearly doesn’t want to recount it. For the briefest of moments, Stan’s vision goes red, and the half-full soda can he’d been holding suddenly bursts from the sudden pressure of Stan squeezing it like a stress toy.

...What the fuck? What kind of sick freak thinks it’s funny to beat on some poor kid like he’s a punching bag? And for what? Because he has a silly crush on Wendy that he’s probably never going to act upon? Was he never twelve years old? Did he never go through that phase of crushing on every girl that gave him the time of day? It’s not like Dipper was threatening him, or anything, and even if he had, what kind of coward would Robbie have to be to respond this violently? 

Stan sighs, and the sound of it is gruff and lined with anger. He’ll deal with that kid later.

For now…

He reaches out to place a reassuring hand on Dipper’s shoulder, but catches himself and retracts it to his side. He stands to his feet with a grunt, and awkwardly scratches at the back of his head.

“Y’know, I can...help you out with that”

Dipper stops in his coughing for a moment, if only to ask, “Help me with what?”

“Your chest?” Stan puts his hands to his hips and rolls his shoulder. “You think your Great Uncle Stan got so good at fighting and punching things naturally? I’m flattered, kiddo, but I can recognize a damaged rib when I see one.”

“Damaged?” Dipper whispers in horror, grip on his shirt tightening. 

“Whoa, whoa, easy there” Stan’s back to his knee in an instant, resting a large hand on top of Dipper’s frail arm. “These kinds of things happen all the time, see? They ever tell you how easy it is to break someone’s rib when you’re doing CPR?”

Dipper, who’d started chewing anxiously at the collar of his shirt, spits it out, “Y-yeah, we talked about in health class” 

“See? They just snap easy, is all. All you gotta do is follow a few simple home remedies and you’ll be good as new before you know it.”

Dipper raises an eyebrow. “Grunkle Stan, I’m not sure I trust your definition of a home remedy” 

“Ha!” Stan laughs loudly. “I like you, kid. Nah, home remedy just means you don’t need any doctor to charge you hundreds when he’s just going to tell you things you could’ve figured out yourself.”

He stands again. “Find somewhere comfy to sit, kiddo, you’re gonna be there for a while. I’ll run into the kitchen and grab a few things for you that’ll also help with that black eye of yours, while we’re at it”.

“Okay,” Dipper mumbles, his voice sounding closer and closer to a whimper, and he sits down on Stan’s recliner. Just before Dipper can settle his back against the rest, though, Stan gently reaches behind Dipper’s back and hands him the extra cushion. 

“And, uh, if you start having another coughing fit, which you probably will, try holding this to your chest instead of clawing at your chest with your hands. It’ll hurt a lot less” 

Dipper doesn’t respond with words this time, just with a small smile as he reaches for the remote on the recliner's armrest, and that’s all the response Stan needs. He disappears into the kitchen and opens the fridge to look around for something that could suffice as an ice pack. Stan curses under his breath at himself for not picking up a box of gel packs the last time he was at the store, but chalks it up as a mental note to just buy double what he thinks he needs next time he’s there just in case. 

Stan eyes fall on a half-eaten bag of frozen corn forced closed with a hair tie, and places it on the counter beside him. That should suffice for his chest, since Dipper could just place it between the armrest and himself so he doesn’t even have to bother trying to hold it in place. Humming to himself, Stan continues to rummage through the fridge to find something...softer for Dipper to hold over his black eye. 

He freezes when he comes across the large steak packed away with the other meat cuts. Does he dare live up to the stereotype? He’s not even sure if it was ever proven whether or not using a steak for a black eye even did anything, and he was never able to afford one when he was younger when he needed something to take care of his own black eyes.

As a matter of fact, it’s a miracle he can even afford the steak now. He remembers purchasing it after a particularly good sales week, and how he told himself that it’s for special occasions, and that he’d only buy it just this once, because he knew if they became a regular purchase he’d bankrupt himself before the end of the tourist season. He holds the slowly defrosting package in his hand, weighing his options, when the sound of Dipper laughing weakly at something on the TV rings into the kitchen from the other room.

...Screw it. 

He closes the fridge door, and rips open the plastic packaging surrounding the steak cut. He takes the roll of paper towels off of its stand, and uses it to wrap the bag of frozen corn, and carries the two makeshift ice packs back out to where Dipper’s still sitting in front of the television.

“Uh, bon appetit” He says, offering the two makeshift ice packs to Dipper. He laughs, squishing the cushion against his chest as he takes them.

“I know you’re just trying to help, but I think it’s low even for you to expect me to cook my own dinner after this”, he smirks. “You could’ve at least asked if I even wanted steak and…” he shakes the bundle of paper towel in his hand “...whatever this is.”

“Hardy har har” Stan replies sarcastically, and takes a knee beside the recliner. “Look, I know a lot of these are gonna sound contrasting, but you have to follow my advice very carefully.” He holds up the bundle of paper towels. “This one’s for your chest. All that coughing you’re doing is gonna hurt your rib even more, and in a little while you’re gonna see some bruising. Try to keep this ice pack on the places where the bruising looks the worst. You’re gonna wanna keep it there as long as you can handle it the next couple of days. If it gets too cold, you gotta adjust the paper towels, and if it stops feeling cold at all you have to replace your pack” He scratches at the back of his neck. “Right now that’s corn, because it’s the first thing in the fridge I could find, but I’m sure there are a lot better things in there you could use in case it defrosts”

He holds up the steak. “This one should be pretty obvious. I made sure that frozen bundle for your chest was small so you could use it without holding it, but this one’s another story entirely. This one you’ve got to hold up to your eye, but don’t push on it. Just sort of...squish it up to your face.” He shrugs. “You gotta keep at it until you’re sure the swelling goes down, and then you’re gonna need to switch to a hot compress instead”

Stan just knows that one day, once Dipper's better, he’s going to corner him and ask how he knows all of this medical information. He just knows he is. Better not dwell on that now, and as soon as the kid doesn’t need his immediate attention he can always sneak off so he can think of a good excuse that’ll convince the kid to get off his back about it. 

Oh, and while he’s on the subject of sneaking off…

“Now listen to this last part, and listen good. This is the most important rule, and if I catch you breaking it I’m driving you to the hospital and leaving you there”.

That came out a lot harsher than he intended, but Dipper’s frantic nod is enough to tell him he got the picture. 

“For the next couple of days, I don’t want to hear a peep about you running around in the woods trying to solve some spooky mystery. I don’t wanna hear you jumping into the passenger side of Soos’s truck, and I don’t want to hear you running into Wendy’s arms even if she suddenly decides she wants to marry you, or something”

Dipper’s face goes beet red. “Uh, actually, that last one-” 

“Doesn’t matter” he cuts him off. “You go running off into those woods and you’re going to make it all worse. Got it?”

Dipper looks hurt, but Stan can tell it’s not him he’s upset at. 

“Yes, Grunkle Stan” he murmurs, and Stan grins as he stands to his feet, ruffling Dipper’s hair.

“Ah, cheer up kid, it’s not gonna be as terrible as you think it is. You get to sleep down here in the recliner instead of walking all the way up those creaky stairs, and I bet if I even mention the idea of a slumber party to your sister she’s gonna bring your whole bedroom down here to keep you company” 

Dipper huffs in quiet laughter. “Yeah, yeah, I guess that doesn’t sound too awful” 

“See?” Stan snaps his fingers. “You’re sounding better already.” There’s a pause, as an idea comes to him, and then, “You think you’d be okay if I stepped out for an hour or so? Your sister should be around here somewhere if you need anything”

Dipper blinks. “You’re leaving so soon after you told me I couldn’t?” 

Stan laughs. “Just gotta run some old man errands, kiddo, I don’t think they’d be up your alley even if you could come with” 

“...Fair enough” Dipper shrugs, and slumps back into his chair. 

~~

Once Stan pulls his car into downtown, it doesn’t take long to find where Robbie had disappeared to. The old car he definitely borrowed from his parents based on the bumper stickers is parked right out in the open in the lot of the arcade, almost as if he was acting like nothing had happened between him and Dipper at all. 

Stan parked his own car beside his, and with a quick glance in one direction he could see that Robbie’s car was empty, which meant he must be inside, and a quick glance to the other direction told him that there weren’t any cops around. 

Perfect. 

Opening his car door as quietly as he can, Stan slips out of the door of his car and crouches as low as he can towards Robbie’s car, lest anyone in the arcade catch onto what he’s doing.  From his suit he pulls a pocket knife, and in one, two, three quick motions he slashes the wheels of the car, leaving only one perfectly intact.  With a grin on his face he slinks back into car and speeds away from the arcade as fast as he can, screaming out the open window that nobody messes with the Pines family and gets off scot-free. 

[makemeabeliever]

He moves slowly, deliberately, giving him time to move away. When he doesn’t, he gingerly sweeps a few of the droplets away with the pad of his thumb before pressing his mouth to Johnny’s jaw, catching the tears that seem to deteriorate and melt away at the warm embrace of his lips.

Daniel and Johnny talk it out. aka, the Daniel Apologizes fic that everybody wants, including an emotionally fucked up Johnny Lawrence.  Really proud of this one! Very dialogue heavy, 

[krat395]

Laughing With Integrity (Chapter 1)

Happy early Mother's Day, everyone! :) And to celebrate, here is a story featuring Izzy (Integrity) and her adopted mother, Heidi (the Snowdin Innkeeper)! :D Yes, after all this time, Izzy, a character that's only been mentioned up until this point, is finally making an actual appearance in one of my stories! ;P Same goes for her adopted mother, Heidi! To everyone that read my "Rabbits! X3" journal on DeviantArt, I told you she would appear in a story before Grillby! ;) She's so underrated! She and all of those other rabbit monsters are so underrated! Though especially Heidi (my headcanon name for her)! And after all this time, she's finally receiving the attention she deserves! She and Izzy both! Haha! Enjoy, my friends; and don't be afraid to leave feedback! :)

Undertale(c) Toby Fox.

******************************************

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

******************************************

LAUGHING WITH INTEGRITY

Chapter 1: Izzy (and Heidi)! :D

 It is a Friday afternoon; early November; and on this particular afternoon, a little human girl named Izzy is currently resting in her home on the Surface after a productive day of school. Izzy; short for Isabella; possesses a blue Integrity soul, which symbolizes her trait of Integrity. As for her personality and appearance, she is a kind-hearted, fun-loving, flirty (like Frisk), and tomboyish 10-year-old girl; Caucasian; with long, straight, and naturally blonde hair whose hobbies consist of things such as dancing, bicycling, gaming, painting her nails, and throwing/attending slumber parties. As for her everyday attire; she doesn't wear a pink tutu and ballet shoes everywhere she goes contrary to popular belief. She mostly just wears those when she does ballet, which she took up due to her love of dancing. But outside of ballet however, she is often seen wearing tank tops with jeans and flip-flops; her most common attire being a pink and blue striped tank top with dark blue jeans and pink flip flops. One thing worth mentioning about Izzy is that she LOVES showing off her feet to everyone, especially when her toes have nail polish on them! Blue nail polish is her favorite and to show off her feet, she wears flip-flops, which she has at least five pairs of but the pink ones she’s often seen in are her favorite. But if her feet were more durable like that of most monsters however, then she'd go everywhere with bare feet instead. The only thing Izzy likes more than wearing flip flops is wearing no footwear at all and she sure does a splendid job making everyone fully aware of that every time she announces that she's removing her footwear; saying things such as, "Get off my feet, flip flops!" and "Freedom… for my feet!" XD It's the first thing she does upon entering her house and/or others' houses; usually when arriving home from school or just after being outside in general. She's a funny little girl like that and a real cutie too. A real cutie! X3 One look at her and you wouldn't believe that she was one of six humans that had their souls taken from them in the Underground!

 Another thing worth mentioning about Izzy is that she is Brad and Justin's cousin; Brad (Bravery) by adoption and Justin (Justice) by blood; and like her cousins, she was one of a handful of humans that was miraculously resurrected after the destruction of the Barrier one month ago. Also like her cousins, she was immediately adopted by rabbit monsters; in Izzy's case, Heidi, the former SNOWDIN INNKEEPER, and her husband, Harvey. After hearing so much about Izzy from Brad during the three months he spent as a member of her family in the Underground, Heidi dreamed of one day adopting Izzy if she had survived after being separated from Brad and Justin. Izzy was not fortunate enough to survive during her time in the Underground though, much to Heidi's devastation. But once Izzy was miraculously resurrected however, Heidi became overjoyed with happiness and immediately took her in as part of her own family; just like her sister, Harriet (the former Snowdin Shopkeeper), did with Brad and Justin.

 Ever since last month, Izzy has been living happily with a family of rabbit monsters on the Surface and her new family members consist of adopted mother Heidi, adopted father Harvey, and 3 adopted siblings; an older brother named Bastian, a younger sister named Bekah (short for Rebekah), and a baby sister named Bebe; and over the course of just one month, Izzy managed to win all of their hearts; even the heart of one particular family member she wishes she could bond a little better with. Yes, in Izzy's new family, there's one family member that she hasn't properly bonded with yet; and that family member is her adopted brother, Bastian, who is four and half months older than her. Bastian, an 11-year-old rabbit monster with all-white fur, is the youngest student in Toriel's 6th grade class. He's a nice boy; getting along with almost everyone he interacts with; but is someone that has difficulty accepting major changes in his life. An example of this was when he and his family moved to the Surface a month ago. Bastian was one of the few monsters that didn’t want to move to the Surface after the Barrier was destroyed. But not just that though; he was also one of the few monsters that actually didn't mind living in the Underground; and during his time there, he often accompanied Heidi whenever she was running her inn. He loves his mother very much and is a bit of a mama's boy himself, which Heidi doesn't entirely mind. Heidi loves him back with all her heart and soul and if it wasn't for her patience, guidance, and kind and loving nature towards him, Bastian would not be the happy child he is today on the Surface. But not everything is perfect however. After moving to the Surface, Bastian has had difficulty making friends with human children, whom he doesn’t appear to realize aren’t all that different from monster children in terms of personality, and his cousin, Heather, Harriet's daughter and a lavender rabbit monster who is in the same grade as him, can only do so much to help him in that regard. So, that's where Izzy, a human girl, comes in. If Bastian can bond better with his adopted human sister, then there's a chance that Izzy might be able to help him feel more comfortable around humans as a whole; and Heidi believes that she knows just the thing that will help Izzy win him over. It can't hurt for Izzy to try, anyway. But unfortunately for her, she's going to have to wait until tomorrow since Bastian currently isn’t present in the house, which is connected to an all new Inn that Heidi runs for a living. Instead, Bastian is out with his father and sisters meeting his father’s new human friend, Elwood, who Izzy and Heidi have already met, and won't be back until tomorrow. That's right; the majority of Izzy's adopted family isn't home during this particular afternoon; nobody except for Izzy's adopted mother, Heidi, a thin 36-year-old female rabbit monster with pink fur and always bare 3-toed feet, who is often seen wearing sleeveless knee-length dresses; primarily a yellow one with 2 blue stripes (one at the top around her neck and one in the middle around the waist). X3 Not that Izzy minds. She loves her adopted mother very much and this afternoon will provide her a perfect opportunity to ask her what she can do to bond better with Bastian.

 4:00pm, Friday, early November...

 Heidi: Ah. Good to be home. *said Heidi to herself as she entered her home; from one of the side entrances (the one that leads to her inn)* Hmm… Is Izzy here?

 Not even one second later, Heidi's question was answered the moment she saw Izzy's pink flip flops on the floor near the front entrance, indicating that Izzy was barefoot somewhere in the house.

 Heidi: (Heeheeheeheehee. She most certainly is.) Izzy! *shouted Heidi, seconds before hearing a little girl's voice in her living room*

 Izzy: In here, Mom! I'd come out and give you a hug but my toenails need to dry first.

 At this very moment, Izzy is sitting on a couch; in an upright position on the middle cushion; in the living room watching television with her bare feet resting on a footrest, which Izzy covered with a towel before she began painting her toenails.

 Heidi: Heeheeheeheehee. Oh, Izzy; painting your nails again? *asked Heidi with a smile as she walked into the living room to greet her adopted daughter* Didn't you paint them last night, sweetie?

 Izzy: Heeheehee. Yeah; my fingernails! A while ago, I painted my toenails! Heeheeheeheeheehee! Aren’t they pretty? *Izzy asked cheekily while wiggling each of her ten little toes slightly; being careful not to ruin her nail polish while it was drying* Heeheeheeheeheehee~!  

 Heidi: Heeheeheehee! They most certainly are! Pretty just like you! *answered Heidi, pinching Izzy’s left cheek*

 Izzy: Heeheeheeheehee! Mooooooooom! Heeheeheeheeheehee~!

 Heidi: Heeheeheeheeheehee! Oh, you know you love it. Heeheeheeheehee! So, what would you like to do tonight, my dear? We have the house all to ourselves. Any ideas?

 Izzy: Yes, actually. I was thinking that maybe we could chat a little. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.

 Heidi: Oh? And what would that be, my dear?

 Izzy: Well, first off, I just want to say how grateful I am to be part of this family. You’ve all been so wonderful to me… and Justin and Brad; you, Dad, Bastian, Bekah, Bebe, Aunt Harriet, Benny, Robbie, and Heather; all of you. We couldn’t ask for better adopted families. *stated Izzy sincerely, causing Heidi to tear up a little and hug her*

 Heidi: Oh, Izzy. *sniffles* The pleasure is all ours; and we all love you kids very, very much.

 Izzy: Awww! And we love you, Mom. …Oh, but I just wish I could bond better with Bastian though! After one month, I’m still not entirely sure that he loves me the way you, Dad, Bekah, and Bebe all do!

 Heidi: *shocked gasp* Oh, Izzy; please don’t ever say things like that! Of course Bastian loves you the way your father, sisters, and I do! *assured Heidi, shocked after hearing what Izzy just told her*

 Izzy: A-are you sure? *asked Izzy, somewhat doubting Heidi*

 Heidi: Of course I’m sure! I know that boy better than anyone else! Just give him some more time, all right? He’ll come around.

 Izzy: But what if he never does though? Mom, there has to be something I can do to get him to like me more! There just has to be! *shouted Izzy, tearing up a little, which in turn made Heidi stop acting so defensive*

 Heidi: Hmm… Well, there is one thing that might work, sweetie; actually 3 things.

 Izzy: *excited gasp* There are?! Really?! Oh my gosh! Could you tell me, please? I’ve been trying to figure out this mystery for a month! An entire month!

 Izzy is feeling rather insecure about herself this afternoon. It's not like her to feel so insecure but who can blame her? Bastian is her adopted brother and he's never himself whenever he interacts with her! Around Harvey, Bekah, Bebe, and especially Heidi, he's very enthusiastic and quite the joy to be around! And pretty funny too; telling jokes and pulling harmless pranks on others; all with a big smile on his face! "Why doesn't he act that way around me?" Izzy often wonders to herself. It could be because he's shy around Izzy. It could be because he's still having a difficult time adjusting to having an adopted sister that isn't the same species as him. Who knows? But whatever the case is, it doesn't stop Izzy from wondering what she can do to fully earn his trust and after one month, Heidi feels that it's finally time to suggest something that might just do the trick. To earn Bastian's trust, Heidi feels that Izzy should TICKLE HIM. Lots! If there's one thing that Bastian loves almost as much as his own family, it's being tickled; and the spot he always wants to receive the most attention is his feet; his white, always bare three-toed feet. He absolutely loves having his feet touched despite how immensely ticklish they are and no matter how much someone tickles them, he won't ever beg them to stop; provided that whoever's tickling him is doing so with good intentions of course. But tickling alone might not be enough to fully earn Bastian's trust though. To really seal the deal, Heidi believes that Izzy should also pet him and consistently tell him that he's cute, which will be easy for Izzy to do since cute is exactly what Bastian is and that she used to have a pet rabbit when she was younger. X3

 Izzy: R-really?! That's all?! *asked Izzy all surprised* I wanted to do all three of those things the moment I saw him! But I didn't because I felt that it would’ve been inappropriate… you know, due to my… condition. *she added, referring to her tragic past and miraculous resurrection*

 Heidi: Oh, I feel you, my dear. That also happens to be why I didn't suggest that you do those things sooner. I wanted to give you enough time to adjust to your new life here on the Surface with us.

 Izzy: And I appreciate that you did too! Thank you!

 Heidi: Heeheeheehee. Of course, my dear. *said Heidi lovingly, giving Izzy a kiss on her left cheek*

 Izzy: Heeheeheeheeheehee! *Izzy giggled in response*

 Heidi: ...So, Izzy, now that you've taken some time to get to know us, I have to ask… are you ticklish yourself? *asked Heidi cheekily, causing Izzy to perk up*

 Izzy: *excited gasp* Oh my gosh, yes! Yes, Mom! I am sooooo ticklish! Heeheeheeheeheehee! Oh my gosh! Heeheeheeheeheehee! I'm giggling just thinking about it! Heeheeheeheeheeheehee!

 Heidi: Heeheeheeheehee! You are, indeed. And do you like being tickled?

 Izzy: Heeheeheeheehee! Maaaaaaaybe! *answered Izzy, teasing Heidi and wiggling her toes slightly in anticipation* Heeheeheeheeheehee~!

 Heidi: Heeheeheeheehee! Well that sounds like a yes to me! Brad told me you did but I wanted to hear it from you.

 Izzy: Heeheeheehee! Oh he did, did he? *Izzy then asked, feeling nervous all of a sudden*

 Heidi: Heeheeheeheehee! Oh, yes. There's lots of things he told me about your ticklishness when he lived in the Underground with us; such as where to tickle to REALLY get you squealing!

 Izzy: Eep! Oh my gosh; that little devil! *Izzy shouted in response, pretending to be offended* Well, I can tell you right now that I am most certainly going to punish him sometime for telling you about that! *she added, implying that she will tickle torture Brad sometime; playfully*

 Heidi: Heeheeheehee! I bet you will! But can you blame him? *asked Heidi, placing her right hand on Izzy's stomach* You're an incredibly adorable little girl; and I bet you have some of the absolute cutest reactions to tickles in the entire world. *she added, seconds before lightly scribbling her fingers against Izzy's stomach on the outside of her tank top*

 Izzy: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEK! *Izzy squealed, taken completely by surprise* HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *she then laughed adorably, quivering her stomach with every passing second* MOHOHOHOM! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! JUST WHAHAHAT DO YOU THINK YOHOHOHOU'RE DOOHOOHOOING THERE, MOHOHOHOM?! *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!

 Heidi: (*gasp of delight* Oh my g-god! Her reactions are even cuter than I thought! X3) Heeheeheeheehee! Why, I'm tickling you, of course! *Heidi answered with a giggle, right before ending her ticklish assault on Izzy for the time being* Heeheeheehee! And I would very much enjoy doing so some more after your nails dry and after we eat some dinner together; if that's ok with you, Izzy.

 Izzy: Heeheeheeheeheehee! Silly rabbit! Of course it is! Heeheeheeheeheehee!

 Heidi: Heeheeheehee! Fantabulous, my dear! Heeheeheeheehee!

 Heidi is very pleased to find out that what Brad has told her about Izzy's ticklishness is true so far and that she will be tickling Izzy again real soon. From the moment she heard that Izzy was ticklish, how ticklish she is, and that she loves being tickled, Heidi dreamed of one day tickling Izzy herself if she ever met her in person and now that she finally has an opportunity to do so and now that she feels that she's waited long enough, she's going to be sure to take full advantage of it! Plus, it'll be a nice little warm-up for Izzy before tomorrow; because if she tickles Bastian and does a great job of it, then it's very likely that he's going to want to tickle her back. Hehe. ;)

TO BE CONTINUED...

[trickstercaptain]

JACK, MASCULINITY & BISEXUALITY.

          so I’ve made absolutely no secret of the fact that one of the big things I love about Jack as a character ( among plenty, plenty of other things ) is how he challenges traditional ideas of masculinity, and I’m gonna use this meta opportunity to elaborate on that and hopefully connect it to Jack’s sexuality ( mostly within his canon verses, though a lot of this does also apply to his modern verse ). the long and the short of it is that Jack is simultaneously allowed to be a badass and admirable to the audience and display selfishness, cowardice, his own quirks and his desire to avoid violence wherever possible. the first two demonstrate the perks of being an anti-hero, but it’s the last one that I’m going to talk about first: Jack does not like violence. he will choose methods of solving a problem that avoid, where possible, the use of brute force, even when it puts him at a disadvantage. he chooses not to shoot Will in order to escape the smithy in CotBP despite that proving to be the easiest way out, and he is told by Barbossa in that same movie that it’s likely the mutiny would not have happened if he hadn’t been such a merciful captain. we are encouraged to like him as an audience because he uses his wits to get out of trouble, and we are encouraged to like him in spite of the fact that he is the worst swordsman of the franchise, relatively speaking, and that he in fact loses every single fight he is a part of ( unless he cheats, which he does frequently ). 

        second, he is also allowed to be quirky. a lot of this links in with the idea that Jack is an archetypal trickster: he is transgressive on purpose because that is what a trickster does. he breaks the rules because it’s fun, he manipulates others because it’s fun, he gets bored easily and uses trickery and deceit to get ahead of his opponents while casting himself as a fool. tricksters also tend to have a very fluid attitude towards gender because, once again, it is another way to transgress boundaries, and there’s certainly an undeniable sense of androgyny to Jack. I’m not here to label him as anything because a) in Jack’s canon any modern ideals just wouldn’t apply and b) he is still a man and, more importantly, still benefits consistently in his narrative from being a man, so this androgyny is purely in how he outwardly expresses himself rather than the result of any internal struggle. he is experimental and individualistic and this is one of many ways in which Jack’s character draws on the rock star tradition ---- particularly the rock star tradition of challenging masculinity with the way they dressed on stage ( think Bowie, Jagger and Hendrix ).

         but this sometimes effeminate expression of his sense of self does make it more difficult to be taken seriously by others, both within his own social strata of fellow pirates and outside of it: he wears kohl that, while practical, accentuates his pretty boy, fey image, he wears his hair long and braided ( which isn’t necessarily a sign of “femininity” in itself, though he combines this with tying trinkets and beads and jewellery into it ), he sways as he walks ( again, a practical response to being on a ship for long periods of time, but isn’t something that Jack ever seeks to correct in order to appear more intimidating ) and is fond of theatrical gesturing which, yes, feeds into a stereotype but means that in no way does he carry himself in a typically masculine way. for instance, the way Jack sits: while yes there are times when he deliberately kicks his feet up on the table to occupy extra space and piss people off, he doesn’t consistently sit down in a way that emphasises his physical power or dominance ---- in fact, in the last multiple Jacks scene in AWE, when Jack is talking to himself in the brig, we see one of the clones crossing his legs with his hands on his lap as he sits on the bench ---- something I would argue is rather reserved and not overly masculine in nature.

        now there’s an argument to be made that Jack uses his effeminacy to his advantage, in the same way that a trickster would bend any rule that benefitted him, and that this isn’t the true him, but I’d argue that, while there is of course an element of using that behaviour to encourage others to dismiss him as a fool of no consequence, it is too consistent for it to be an act, particularly as it causes him as many problems as it does solutions. it’s absolutely in his nature. another great example I want to draw on is in The Price of Freedom, where Jack uses his “sexuality” ( I use this word loosely as it’s really the only way to describe what he does lmao ) to unsettle one of Teague’s lieutenants and jailors and throw him off, both while he’s been searched airport security style and while he’s trying to conspire with Christophe to break him out of Shipwreck’s cells.

“Roger, old chum, unless you want to cause me embarrassment—and yourself a lifelong case of envy—by demanding that I actually produce the goods for your delectation…er…inspection, I’d suggest you desist.” He batted his eyes at Teague’s lieutenant.

[...] Without answering, Jack abruptly turned to confront Mortensen, who was looming behind him, scarcely a handbreadth away. “I don’t care if you’re present, Roger, but must you breathe down the back of me neck?” He rolled his eyes. “Or are you trying to work up the courage to grab me backside and give it a squeeze?” He’d spoken loudly, and his voice carried to all Christophe’s crewmen. The cell-bound pirates laughed, whistled, and jeered obscene suggestions at Mortensen.

        I love this scene because it shows how Jack switches effortlessly between typically masculine and typically feminine behaviour and uses both to achieve what he wants. the seductive act of flirting with Mortensen ( despite the fact that Jack is twenty in this scene and is very likely half the age of the jailor in question lmao ) to throw him off is a very femme fatale sort of solution ( and that is an archetype that Jack plays around with a lot ), but being a man adds an element of what I spoke of earlier too ---- that he’s more likely to be dismissed as an irritating little shit and not someone who is conspiring to break someone out of the cells. he also relies on the hyper-masculinity he is surrounded by when he speaks loudly enough for all of the pirates in the cells to hear and jeer Mortensen in response, further embarrassing him and diverting his attention long enough for Jack to make his intentions to Christophe clear.

        because this is the thing about pirates, friends. yes, they were largely accepting of and/or unbothered by homosexual behaviour, and had crews who operated in a far fairer way than many merchant or naval ships of the same period, but they are still male-dominated environments. female pirates are rare as far as historical records show purely because we only know for sure that a few were women. women would, for the most part, have to adopt masculine traits in order to exist in the same space, and many would and did disguise themselves as men in order to achieve this. Jack is therefore something of an anomaly in his challenge of male gender norms ---- he could act more like your typical brutish, violent male captain and have a far easier time of it because that’s ultimately the sort of behaviour that is rewarded in this hyper masculine space, but he doesn’t, and this is where he stands out and positions himself as an outsider even in the profession he had literally branded into his arm.

        Jack has also been directly hurt by this culture of hyper masculinity, too. it’s clear that his grandmother sees him as an easy target for her abuse because he both struggled to and didn’t want to conform, and he faces similar criticism from Teague because of his non-violent personality. in his attempt to not become like Teague, too, Jack internalises his own anger and aggression which makes him self-destructive as opposed to outwardly destructive to others. Christophe is the most similar pirate in the franchise to Jack in terms of the flamboyant way in which they both present themselves ( and Jack is no doubt influenced by Christophe in that respect, though that’s another meta entirely ), but Jack does not share his ruthless, amoral personality. and he is mutinied against by Barbossa because people are easier to search when they’re dead. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, but it speaks to the strength of Jack’s character that he remains a largely good-hearted individual when it ultimately comes down to it, and did not contort his sense of self in order to make his life easier.

        so linking all of this into his sexuality, while Jack is bisexual by modern definitions of the word and does not have any shame associated with it due to the openness of pirates to living outside of the established norm ( and the fact that Jack grew up among these pirates, so would likely have not realised the extent of the prejudice that existed until he joined the merchant service and entered into civilised society ---- and I mean, when he did he was called a molly at one point by Mercer ), he was never properly taught how to have a healthy relationship with another man, whether romantically/sexually or not. Jack doesn’t really have many positive close relationships with other men to draw on ( Robby and Gibbs are of course the exceptions, and they are both extremely important ) and all of the betrayals in his life until Elizabeth come from men. moreover, just because pirates were more accepting of homosexual relations between men, doesn’t necessarily mean that pirates should be held up as paragons of healthy behaviour lmao, both in general and in regards to male on male relationships. ships are male dominated microcosms in the same way that all-male prisons are. and this is why Jack does develop one toxic male trait: the inability to express his emotions in a constructive and open way.

        Jack therefore, for the most part, just doesn’t like men. he knows how to get along with them, he certainly has a brothers-in-arms approach to his crewmates and isn’t beyond liking the odd one or two, like Robby and Gibbs ---- and it is certainly a theme that Jack is drawn to those soft, non-threatening, nurturing sorts of men ( to fill a void of nurturing behaviour in his life, imo ). of course he has trashy taste too thanks to the lingering damage of his crush on Christophe and living and growing up in the sort of environment that rewards hyper-masculine behaviour, but his most successful relationships with men are those he doesn’t perceive as threatening, and those who are happy to compliment rather than challenge him in his position as captain.

       meanwhile, he loves women. absolutely fucking adores them, and I don’t mean this just in a sexual way, but in a genuinely appreciative way too. he craves their company and prefers their company to men ( he is honestly so much happier sat at a table with five other women than he is sat with five other men ), and I think this is because he’s more likely to find acceptance with them than he is men, and historically speaking in his life has found greater understanding and affection and care from women than he ever has from his own sex. and I think in turn, because he too is a very non-threatening sort of man, absolutely a woman’s man like my god, is why he is generally adored so much by the women in his life in spite of his flaws and lesser traits lmao. why do Giselle and Scarlett constantly let him back into their lives?? because yes he’s fun and  good in bed but, if Jack’s list of corrected lies to them at the end of AWE is any indication, he also spends a considerable amount of time just talking to them, spending time in their company and getting to know them.

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 15 (NSFW)

Read on AO3

Read chapter fourteen (NSFW)

Title: Come to Me

Words: 8300 (I... apologize greatly)

Summary: Yeah, maybe that wasn't the best decision after all...

Warnings: Bloodplay-ish, verbal abuse, humiliation, violence, light bondage.

ST Rambles: Well, well, well. With twelve minutes to midnight, I did get it up. I've been writing this thing all day (given I'd been avoiding writing it all week, buuut), and I think it works. I apologize for the length omg. Literally the longest thing I've ever written.

I didn't expect last week's response to be so... grand? I loved last week's chapter and I'm so happy y'all did too. Now, to work on next week's!

[Masterlist]

The bruising was nearly imperceptible after a week, even so you concentrated on your reflection, trying to rest Mason’s shirt over the ghosted mark splayed over your larynx. Mason’s apartment was never well lit anyway, acting as an additional cover for what had once required a skilled hand at concealer and powder. Pulling back on the shoulders of the borrowed shirt, you mussed with it until an exasperated sigh dropped your hands to your sides, a flat face staring back at you as you reluctantly surrendered after five wasted minutes of meticulous staging. Mason was always over-observant, a skill necessary for every physician, but only currently serving as a foundation to your overthinking.

“Hey, I threw your uniform in the washer while you were showering,” Mason called beyond the bathroom door. “It just finished drying. I’m gonna put it on the coffee table. Is that okay?”

Mason had always been a genuine person, always showing his affection in addition to saying it. After months of chaos, his little act of kindness warmed through your heart, a sense of home you had only ever felt when he was around. It had been so long since you’d got to spend quality time with him – gosh, it had to have been before graduation, before careers and superiors came into your lives – and it was nice having him near, feeling safe for the first time since returning to Starkiller.

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” you called back. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. How’re those clothes working for you?” His voice carried closer to the door. “I made sure they were from my pre-jacked years.”

A laugh snuck something that resembled a smile into the mirror. “Yeah, okay, Mr. Tough Guy. I’m sure your gigantic arms would shred this shirt to pieces by now.”

“Oh, so you think I have gigantic arms, huh? Why don’t you come out here and I’ll give you a ticket to the gun show?”

You shook your head in the mirror, rolling your eyes and smiling. “You are ridiculous, Mason McCarty. Sometimes I can’t remember why I’m friends with you.”

“Oh, yeah right. You know you love me.”

With one last primp at your collar, and a tug at the tied drawstrings hanging at your hips, you pulled the door open and leaned onto the threshold. Mason was doing the same, only mirrored, looking down to you, crossing his arms across his chest. He was wearing a rendition of what he’d given you, only less worn. He wasn’t wrong, though, his arms were impressive. He’d gotten bigger since you’d met with him before the Finalizer.

“I tolerate you,” you teased. “Don’t get it twisted.”

He tilted his head, his face falling into an exaggerated pout. “Is that how you speak to someone who got your favorite for dinner?”

The question made you aware of the familiar aroma that filled the room. You looked behind him, spotting the take-out bag atop the coffee table, your uniform neatly folded next to it. This was all so nice, like a sleepover, though you suspected this arrangement would last at least a week, long enough to scout out your apartment and get the locks changed.

“Fine,” you shrugged, “maybe I do love you. But only for your food.”

The two of you bumped each other’s sides and laughed your way to the couch. Mason unpacked the bag, handing you a utensil and a handful of napkins before opening the take-out containers. You curled up into the corner of the couch, resting your food between your chest and legs, facing him as he dug in with you.

“So, now that I’ve provided you with food, water, and shelter, are you ready to tell me what the hell is going on?” He took a bite, looking over at you beyond your knees.

Life had looked so different since you’d last seen him; between Kylo Ren and your career, you were nearly an entirely new person. Though, instead of wisdom you had obtained an overwhelming amount of complications in your time away from Mason. Service between Starkiller and the Finalizer was only approved on official First Order equipment; your cell reception disallowing communication through space, keeping you from seeking Mason for gossip or encouragement when you needed it most.

Chewing the last of your bite, you quickly swallowed and rested your arms. “How long have you got?”

“All night, if that’s what you need. I’m worried about you,” your name was genuine on his tongue, true concern edging his tone.

“Jeez,” you sighed. “Where do I even start?”

The confessional acted as a refresher, a reminder of just how bizarre life had gotten while away. Mason had slowed his bites after you told him about your living situation, stopping completely after you walked him through the patient seizing and bleeding out. As you described the egregious scene, you subconsciously traced your hand over your throat, as if mentioning the events that had led to your bruising would make it obvious to him. When you told him about Talia, he seemed to have a peace come over him, like knowing you had a friend away from him had been a concern in your absence. He shared in your disgust over Hux, obviously angered at how much of a show he’d made of parading you through the communal area to his office.

“You called him Armitage? To his face?” He was stunned, at this point his food was getting colder, his hunger sated by your words instead of his meal.

“I will admit that it wasn’t the best choice. But, Mason, let me tell you… it felt so good.”

His brow creased. “And he just let you off the hook? No suspension?”

Your stomach curdled, the sight of food making you sick. Setting your meal back on the counter, you took a breath. “Well, not for now, but… at some point.”

He followed suit, putting his food down and leaning in. He sat crisscross before you, his elbows resting on his knees as he listened to your explanation of the circumstances surrounding your career. His face fell as yours had when you brought up the Board of Physicians, realizing just how deep the hole you had dug yourself had become. He said nothing, only listening as you recounted last night in more detail, still shivering at the memory of the damaged door, the faded pain at your back reappearing when you mentioned the winter that was the assessment room.

“And right after you hung up, he appeared out of nowhere, like some ghost.” Robbie’s voice vividly replayed as your recounted your run-in from earlier.

“But… I thought you said he’d been demoted. Why – how was he there?” He was expressive now, angry with Robbie as you were scared.

“He wasn’t supposed to be there. He left his station because he knew the Command Shuttle had returned.” Absentmindedly, you rang your hand around your wrist, the shadow of his clutch reappearing, the violation he’d wrought overwhelming even in the dim light of Mason’s apartment.

“And where is your – what was it – your master in all of this? You’d think he’d care more about the wellbeing of the care provider he picked himself.”

Though Kylo Ren was the root cause of everything you’d just shared with Mason, you had purposely left out any detail that mentioned him; you knew it was necessary to stay with Mason, understanding that any video evidence of you coming or going to your superior’s quarters at this hour would only expedite the Board’s judgement, but you still felt unease over disregarding the commands of your master. In an effort to put him off your trail, you’d left your watch in the assessment room, hiding it in his spare uniforms and hoping he hadn’t also pulled Mason’s file. Here was where you were safe from everything – Robbie, the Board of Physicians, and the manipulation of Kylo Ren – and you kept repeating that thought, trying to drown out the blaring reminders of just how unsafe you truly were.

Mason’s inquisitions had successfully torn down your efforts not to breakdown. His face twisted into shock before yours fell into your hands, tears that had been welling up since this morning falling without will, spilling over your cupped fingers and down your wrists. Mason scooted over to you, pulling you from the couch and into his arms, your wet eyes pressed against his warm shoulder. He ran his hands up and down your heaving back, your breath shattered as sobs hiccupped through you. It was a release that your body hadn’t felt safe enough to let out, only breaking when it knew someone would be around to hold you together as the torrent decimated your outward façade of apathy.

He shushed you, one of his hands smoothing strands of hair behind your ear. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“Mason, it’s not. It’s never going to be okay again.” The words left in broken spurts of muffled sobs. “I can’t fix this. I – I did this. All of this is my fault.”

He lulled your name, pulling you closer into him, seemingly keeping your chest from shattering. “You saved him, shh. If you believe that in your heart, you have to know that you did the right thing. And the Board will see that. I promise.”

He held you, his arms an anchor, keeping you from drowning in sorrow. Time was foreign, never considering its presence as your heaving lungs fell into gasps, and then into stillness. Eventually the only sound that you were aware of was how his heart thumped in his chest, strong and even – seventy-eight beats per minute, you regarded, mindlessly counting them out of habit. When you grew tired of his pulse, you focused in on his breathing, the clear sounds of his lungs matching the tide of his chest, leading your head with him. He’d rested his chin atop the crown of your head, his index finger continuing its tracing over your ear’s helix, the gentle touch the basis for your return from crisis.

Letting the security of his touch sink in for one last moment, you sighed and pulled back, his arms permitting your journey back to self-support. He kept a hand on your hair, his thumb tracing over your temple, his fingers splaying towards the base of your skull, an additional support as your puffy eyes sought his through hazed vision. Before recently, Mason had been the only person to see you cry; he never made you feel wrong about it, always riding out the storm and sticking around to help you rebuild. And nothing had changed, his presence right now only proving just how permanent a fixture he was in your life.

“How can you promise something you have no say in?” Your words were quiet, cracking at the ends.

“We were taught to never make promises we can’t keep,” he said, the dim light casting a heavenly contour over his cheekbones. “I know that you’re going to come out of this stronger than before. You know why?”

You sniffled and swallowed, looking between his eyes. “Why, Mason?”

“You won’t have to convince the Board of your character. They’ll know. Just like I do.”

“You know me.” The words were so simple, yet they swelled in your chest as you stared back at him, your eyes falling down to his lips for the smallest fragment of a second.

“I know you.” He followed in your glance, nearly imperceptible in its speed.

In the warm light, your heart seemed to glow at this exchange. Mason did know you. And you knew him just the same. He had been your safety for so long, a physical embodiment of protection whenever you needed or wanted it. Here he was before you, an incandescent reminder of the boy you’d yearned for, but knew was too unavailable to build anything with. Now, though, there was nothing stopping you from reaching out and taking hold of the energy surging between you; there was nothing to stop you from manifesting all that you’d pined after for all those years before settling on companionship.

You brought your hand up to his, matching your fingers over his and wrapping them across his palm. There was an influx of fluttering between both of your glances, a silent inquiry of are you sure shared in the proximity. Another hand came up to grasp the other side of your face, landing with the intent of stability; his lips parted, yours following suit, and he brought your lips towards his. It felt foreign as you followed into his hands’ slow path, chin quivering as your felt the warmth of his breath brush over your mouth. With a final glance of consent, he closed his eyes.

With a swallow, you steeled yourself and let your lids fall, breath stalling as you waited for the feel of his undiscovered lips; when his forehead met yours, you searched for the intensity you’d once known for him so long ago, regarding the salient lack of want even in his nearness. This was the farthest thing from how you’d always imagined this moment before; in school, you had dreamt so often of being with Mason McCarty, imagining how it would feel to be chosen by him, to be the golden girl he’d end up with among all the others you’d witnessed leaving his dorm at all hours of the night. Something felt empty in his hold, though, like you’d grown to want more than the boy next door.

His nose pressed into your face, his lips only millimeters from yours, completely unaware of the inward turmoil consuming you as he drew ever closer. Before you could shove it all down and give in to what you had sworn you’d always wanted, the door to Mason’s residence hissed open, the sound ricocheting through the silence. For a fragment of a second, you were relieved, accepting the interruption as a way to delay confronting the lackluster of Mason’s touch. That was it, though, the fragmented moment of peace shattering when Mason’s hands tore away from your face, the rest of his body following as he flew away from you, crashing against the back wall, the collision’s volume suggesting his frame was now permanently indented behind him.

Kylo Ren stood at the threshold, masked, gloved, and fuming. One hand was held out, compressing Mason’s body and keeping him suspended; the other hand was balled at his side, gloved fingers coiled around a band of loose-hanging metal. In the fractioned second you spent analyzing him, you looked closer, noticing a red glow emanating between his fingers. It was your watch; you could hardly believe how small his hand made it appear, nearly imperceptible in the distance. It was a doomed and pointless effort to begin with, purposely leaving the tracker behind, though you’d hoped – however fruitlessly – that maybe it would have deterred him from hunting you down.

Mason struggled against the wall as you stumbled from the couch and onto the floor, your elbow slamming against the coffee table on your way down. Kylo marched forward, hand still extended, grip twisting into a fist. You heard the struggles of your friend, eyes squidged shut in pain while you rubbed your arm, listening as he fell victim to a suffocation you knew all too well. It was unclear in the chaos if the trembling you felt was your own or if Kylo Ren’s modulated growls were reverberating through the room. The footsteps drew nearer, opening your eyes and finding two black boots pointed parallel to your knees.

“It’s up to you how much he suffers.” Behind you, Mason stopped fighting for air, his lungs sucking in just enough to fuel the thrashing cries of pain that followed.

Jumpstarted by the blood-curdling shrieking, you bolted up, hopping over the couch like it was the natural thing to do, wanting to reach him as quickly as possible. His cries faltered, dying into quick pants as his body fought to find equilibrium. Unfathomable rage enraptured you, twisting your face into a snarl when you met the chrome visor behind you.

“Let him down! Stop this!” The words shredded against your throat, your face burning with new vehemence.

There was no response, at least not from your Commander; the next sound to escape Mason was inhuman, like glass getting compacted and magma getting cooled. You turned again to him, looking up to his face, finding it twisted to match the noise which shuddered your spine; his arms and legs were splayed out, sweat collecting at his collar as he suffered through a torture you were sure you’d never known.

“Why – stop! I can- please! He can’t take this! He doesn’t deserve this!”

“No, he doesn’t. I agree,” he barked, the words drowned in feigned sympathy. “This should be you.” His hand turned over, Mason screaming out with new volume behind you.

“Then stop! Please, just leave him be, whatever you want, just stop!” The only reaction your body had left was to spark seething tears, one falling over your cheek as you begged for mercy.

“Your word means nothing. This”—he waved your watch into sight— “solidified that fact.”

The endless cries ripping through the room were fraying your nerves, evaporating your wrath and replacing it with a deep, burning sense of desperation. A choked whine left you, air leaving in staccato and urgent gasps. “God,” you screamed, “please just stop. I promise! Just please, please stop this!”

“Promise,” he spit the word, it’s existence a mangled sound of putridity. “Your virtue has even less value than your word.”

The howls of pain rang on, your patience for Kylo Ren’s torment wearing thinner with every new octave of his cries. Your back was cresting with each full breath, your head spinning in mayhem as you tromped over to him and gripped onto the arm twisting into Mason. Kylo’s visor bent down to you, the reflection of your heated expression a hyphenated portrayal as you caught view of your wet cheeks, the tears frenzied instead of solemn.

“Kylo,” you whispered, “just tell me what you want and you can have it. Just, please, let him go.” The words were buried, barely audible over the injury leaving Mason’s lungs.

He considered you, staring down at your pleading expression. You squeezed his arm, your face breaking into a desperate grimace beneath his stare. He’d taken your absence as a personal attack, completely disregarding the target on your back, like you hadn’t learned not to defy him at this point. And in groveling for Mason’s relief, you accepted that no matter if you deserved to be punished for disregarding his instruction or not, this was the only way you could ensure that Mason wouldn’t end up as collateral damage.

“Please.” Your lip quivered, a tear streaking to the corner of your mouth as you shook beneath his glare.

His arm flexed beneath your fingers, a final surge of terror ripping through Mason before he collapsed to the floor. Without thinking, you clambered down towards him, brushing his hair from his face, your fingers slipping over the sweat that had amounted. “Mason, Mason?” His name escaped in breathy gulps, your heart racing harder when his eyes weren’t opening. “What did you do to him?” you roared, fingers pressing into his carotids.

“Collect your things. We’re leaving.” Kylo’s voice was apathetic, unbothered by Mason’s limp body in your hold.

His pulse was there but weak, nowhere near the high seventies like earlier. His breathing was even and equal, coming slowly. The sweat that had gathered on his back acted to shift his posture, his weight taking you with him as you rushed to protect his head from the floor on his way down. His arm fell to the side, his lips parting and his jaw falling limp with exhaustion. Your fingers were smeared in his sweat, twisted into his nape as you smoothed over his features, hoping your touch would act as a salve while he laid beneath you.

“I can’t just leave him like this,” you sniffled, a tear landing on his chin.

“You will, or he won’t leave here again.” There was no hint of threat in the statement, only truth; a promise in the harsh modulation.

You blinked, two tears falling with the movement. “I’m sorry.” His brow was sweat-laden, too, your thumb gently brushing the moisture away as your eyes blurred, so ashamed of roping him into this. With a sweep of his hair from his forehead, you pulled his arm across his chest and stood at his side to face your master.

“After you, officer,” he said, the hand holding onto your watch motioning towards the door.

Sucking your teeth, you slipped your shoes on without breaking contact with his masked glare. Even as you meandered towards the coffee table to collect your uniform, you stayed locked into him, quaking with anger with each charged step. The animosity which laid within both of you was suffocating, only breeding more hostility as you walked past him with anger-twitching eyes. Kylo placed a hand on your shoulder, his grasp eliciting a short wince as it bit a bruise beneath Mason’s charity of clothing. Before the door hissed shut, one last shriek came from the room as Kylo popped the indented metal into its original unmarked condition, your shoulders shuddering at the echoed cries of the durasteel.

“How can you treat people like they’re expendable? Like they don’t matter?” He began leading you down the hall, his boot cutting into the back of your ankle when you weren’t keeping up with his stride.

Kylo didn’t respond, only digging into your shoulder to indicate a turn. With the length of his legs, you were half-jogging to keep him from running into your feet. You didn’t know whether to keep your head down or to keep a lookout for any cameras, feeling an unease being seen like this – baggy pajamas, work shoes, damp hair – with the Commander of the First Order attached at your back.

“I didn’t disregard your request to spite you, okay? If I came to you and I got caught and it was even suggested to the Board that I was sleeping with my boss? With my Commander? That would be it. That would kill me,” you explained, cataloguing the halls he led you through.

Still no reply, only an increased pace with every new sentence, more pressure dipping into your clavicle. His grip was nearing a fracture, sweat collecting at your nape as you fought to silence the pain. In your periphery you spied the red indicator of a camera, flying out of sight as he propelled you down new halls, wider and taller as his quarters grew closer.

After one final turn, a door appeared at the end of an expansive corridor, completely alone in its existence. His fingers bit down further, the doors sliding apart at the gesture while you winced inwardly. Before you could step past the threshold, his hand unhinged and you flew past the door frame, landing with your hands braced and your knees skidding across the glossed floor.

“It seems you’ve forgotten who you work for, officer,” he said, the doors latching shut behind him. “I can have whatever I want without your offering. The only reason your friend is still breathing is so I can use him as leverage, as it appears the only way to get you to listen is to threaten what you value most.”

In your crash, your chin had collided with the floor, your teeth gnashing into the back of your tongue. As you gathered yourself off of your hands, a drop of the iron that flooded your mouth fell between your bent knees. The colloid pooled under your tongue, slithering down your throat as you sat back on your heels.

“What is so hard to understand about me not coming here?” He stepped closer as you continued to regather yourself, steps calculated and quiet.

“I understand you’re being watched. I know that your life is on the line, and for half a second I believed that you valued it”—he tore your chin up to his visor— “but that can’t be true.”

His grip led you to your feet as he stared down at you. “If you truly held any stock in your life, you would do as you’re told without question. Without doubt.”

Blood dripped over your lip and onto your chin as he anchored your jaw open, his thumb bending over your bottom teeth, depressing the tip of your tongue. “Tonight’s lesson was centered around this incorrigible mouth, but I think you need to learn the true consequences of your actions. Nothing less.”

Below, he kicked your fallen uniform to the side, walking you back so your knees gave way to the arm of the couch, your hands reaching back to support you along the black leather. A low hum left his helmet, his visor tracking over your laid-out body. “Now, to turn these into what they really are”— both of his hands took hold of your shirt collar— “rags.”

The thin fabric of Mason’s old shirt gave way to Kylo’s will like the threads had never been bound together, splitting apart down the center of your chest, past your naval, and through the bottom hem. The shredded article hung open over your abdomen, your chest tiding quickly as you watched his shoulders drag along as coarse breaths left his helmet. His knee anchored itself between your legs, his visor pointed at your face. He kept your eyes in his while his thumbs tore the tattered garment down your arms, leaving raised red trails in their forceful paths; with the fabric bunched over your wrists, the only covering left over your torso being your bra, he yanked it past your hands.

At the motion, your support gave out and your head fell against the stiff cushions. In his hectic maneuvering, once the shirt moved past your waist, his fingers gripped into the waistband of Mason’s sweatpants, their warmth leaving you with begrudging ease even as the drawstring was double knotted above your hips. The thick fabric skated past your toes, every hair on your body stick-straight as the frozen air punctuated your skin’s search for warmth. Staring down at you, the leather sticking to your shoulders, he let the shirt fall, keeping hold of your pants, turning them over as his visor pinned you in place.

“These, though, seem to possess an asset of my benefit.” Out of your view, you heard more ripping, only much shorter of a sound. Before you had time to question what his intentions were, he began wrapping the drawstring from the elastic around his gloved hand, pulling it until the opposite aglet met his palm. “Sit up.”

There was no life in his command, frozen as the atmosphere. With a swallow, noting the blood didn’t replenish itself when you did, you sat up straight, looking up to him with seething defiance. His boots echoed as he paced towards you, stopping before he passed behind. The string-wrapped hand dragged two fingers along your sternum, stopping as they tugged down on the bridge of your bra. “Take this off.”

“And if I don’t?” Your brow raised in challenge.

The hand over your chest quickly shifted its attention to your tongue, pinching it between two tight fingers, a pitiful whine leaving when it did. “This has never been a negotiation. Do as I say and maybe you’ll have use of this—” he pulled your tongue forward, scraping the undersurface with his gloved nail “—after tonight. Do we have an understanding?”

Denying your want to roll your eyes, you nodded. Though, he wasn’t pleased with this response, pinching down harder. “Use your words.”

Flames bit under your cheeks, furious with his intent to embarrass you. A heated breath fled from your nostrils. “Yeth, Commanther.”

“Hm, now do as you’re told.”

You reached behind your back, never leaving his stare as he kept hold of your tongue. The hooks popped behind you, the flat sound too loud in the silent room; the straps hung loose over your shoulders before you hunched forward to remove the rest of the garment, letting it fall between your parted knees. The leather left your tongue as he knelt down, his hands ripping your arms behind you and gathering your wrists at the base of your spine.

“Not that I can’t do this myself,” he said, voice tinged with sly, “but it’s more poetic if you’re bound by your own defiance.”

“For the hundredth time, I didn’t do it to defy you.”

He worked masterfully behind you, the string unwinding from his palm and wrapping around and between your wrists in that same pattern. “Keep talking, it’s making me eager to shut you up; making me hard with anticipation.”

The thin string grew tighter as he wound it to its end, finishing the restraint with a tight pull and a final knot. He stood again once he’d completed the task, taking grasp of your binding and pulling you up to your knees. His hand came to the back of your neck and pushed you forward, your face falling into the firm cushion as your hands struggled to protect you from the collision, finding no give in the ties. The position – face to the side, hips high, shoulders bearing your weight – offered no view of your master, only allowing you to hear his intentions.

The couch shifted behind you, your body swaying to the side as his weight shifted the cushions beneath your knees. The texture of his gloves came between the bend of your hips, your skin emblazoning at the contact. He hummed, following the low sound with a breathy, barely vocal laugh. “I could light you on fire and you’d still be dripping wet for me, wouldn’t you?”

It was a rhetorical question, one you didn’t want to answer even if it hadn’t been. A pressure came over your entrance, the friction of taut leather revealing the erection residing behind it. The sensation caught your breath, your resolve stifling a moan before he could revel in your pleasure. “Really? Nothing to say?” His hips left you, followed by the removal of one of his hands.

“Maybe this’ll make you speak up.” A cold, unyielding object stung at your entrance, your hips bucking away from it only after your core throbbed in remembrance of the weapon.

A pathetic whimper came unbidden from your throat, your face burning in embarrassment that every part of him, even those not physically attached, could draw a reaction from your body. “Did this make an impact?” The metal pushed against you, your walls simultaneously screaming for more yet clenching away from it. “Mm, it did.”

The unforgiving solidity of the weapon made you wail as Kylo pushed it into you, using his hips to nudge it forward while gripping your thigh and pulling you back along its unbroken width. Your core fluttered around the injurious girth, every muscle below your abdomen flexing in response, your breath nonexistent as your body internalized the pleasure-pain its presence incited. While he pushed it further into your center, he twisted the hilt, your walls buzzing around the scraping ridges which resided along the handle. Though you could barely register it, when his flexed knuckles met the skin of your ass, you finally breathed, taking a moment of peace before he pulled it from you.

But he didn’t, standing from behind you as your walls achingly thrummed along the stagnant object. He walked out of view, passing your head and walking further into the room. “Come to me,” he said, modulation cold once more.

A laugh of disbelief left you. “Yeah, okay. Just let me situate myself.” He was insane to think you could move like this.

“My patience is wearing thin, officer. I suggest you don’t test it more than you already have.”

This was his way at asserting his power over you, making you complete various tasks of humiliation. He knew just as well as you did that you were in no shape to move, let alone cross over to him. It was dehumanizing, and all you wanted to do was scream, to throw a Kylo Ren-sized tantrum. But by the new shadows in his voice, and how he was obvious in proving his point, you knew to release the retched sound burning over your axons would never work to your advantage.

Thinking it over for a minute, you decided to try and slide your leg down, thinking you could easily lift yourself from the sofa. As you attempted to execute the maneuver, though, you grimaced, the weapon biting into your cunt with new pain as it indented into the tissue it bludgeoned. Containing a whine, you bit your lip, face growing slick with sweat against the leather. Away from you, you heard the familiar sound of his strokes, ensuing more rage as he drew pleasure from this sight of you.

In a second attempt, you used your shoulders, rocking into the back of the couch for leverage and support. With one too-ambitious shove, you catapulted onto the floor, landing on your back, your hands aching below your weight in their awkward placement, the crossbars of the lightsaber biting into the backs of your thighs. The fall knocked the wind out of you, the frozen floor stealing your breath for ten seconds before the facilities for oxygen returned.

Behind you Kylo grunted, the sound of his gloved hand sliding over his shaft quickening. “I never knew my whore could be so graceful.”

A week ago he’d stained your body with blood, but the wrath you’d felt then couldn’t be compared to the ardent resentment he was eliciting with his blatant enjoyment of your suffering. Using them to your benefit, you pushed off of your bound hands and sat up, your back to him, taking a moment of rest before shoving against the couch and getting to your feet. The weapon shuttered your breath, your legs barely permitting movement in the presence of the intruding object. A sharp set of yelps came as you took your first step towards him, your face twisting in pain as the stride caused friction against your walls.

He'd positioned himself against the wall opposite of you, making the journey to him long and strewn out, allowing him to watch your hobbled venture as long as he wanted. You’d matched the sound correctly, watching him drag his thumb from his head and down his shaft, his back resting against the wall with infuriating nonchalance, like this was any other day for him.

“That’s it,” he said, modulation thick with need, “one step at a time, officer.”

To keep from tripping forward, you stayed close to the furniture as long as you could, legs flexing when your balance faltered. Eventually, though, there was nothing to steady yourself with, your strides shrinking in their reach as you walked in the vacant distance.

“Is this what you enjoy, huh?” you gasped, his lightsaber cutting into you as you stumbled forward. “The Commander of the First Order, so big and strong as he fucks his hand to the sight of his own nurse? Seems a bit fucked up to me.”

“Fuck, I’m going to enjoy this.” He thrust into his hand as you tripped forward once more.

“I didn’t defy you, Kylo. I was safe with Mason,” you said, closing all but a pace of distance between him and you, your legs trembling with exhaustion.

He slowed his strokes, staring into you past his visor, his breath audible through the helmet. After a long pause, his chest came down in a heavy sigh. “Kneel.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

His hand came up and twisted, the weapon shifting between your legs and causing the crossbars to shred over the sensitive tissue. Your weakened stance couldn’t tolerate the electric pain, your knees buckling beneath you, cracking against the glass-plated floor. Before any pain could leave your lungs, he rammed every thickened, throbbing inch of his cock past your teeth and down your throat; you gagged against him, a mechanical seethe leaving his mask at the hiccupped pressure.

“Finally, some peace and fucking quiet.” His hands framed the crown of your head, fingers stretching to the base of your skull and guiding you into his thrusts.

Tears sprung at your eyes, the sudden pressure shocking your sinus tracts into defense. “I get to decide when you’re defying me,” he tilted your head further back. “I decide what you deserve. And yes,” he growled, “seeing you like this, broken for me, by me, pathetic and pitiful as you obey my every command – not because you want to, but because you have to – I obsess over it, your resentful compliance to everything I say; it’s what makes your defiance so maddening.”

Your arms began to strain, the pain trickling from your shoulders down to your tailbone, his weapon shifting with every thrust, making you wince onto his cock. “Shit. This is exactly what sluts like you deserve,” he roared, voice frenzying. “Leaving me to go fuck some physician who can offer you nothing, let alone safety? Yes, you deserve this completely.” He was yelling now, the modulation garbling his words.

A hand left your head, the other gripping into your hair as drool poured down your chin and collected in the earlier dried blood. A loud crash came from behind you, the noise forcing a flinch, your core clenching around the metal, another whine leaving you, your hands throbbing as your blood attempted to bypass the cutting ties which constricted its flow. He thought you’d been with Mason. In the chaos that had entailed since, you forgot how he’d first seen you at the residence, face pressed against Mason’s, your lips so close they may as well have been touching. This was barely about your compliance and wholly about what he’d perceived as your infidelity. And even then, was it even cheating if there had been no set rules? Not that he’d ever seemed to be conscious of his double standards, but it was ridiculous for him to assume you knew this was a monogamous arrangement. The only thing he’d ever ensured you were aware of was the fact that he could have you whenever and however he wanted, never that there was any agreement of mutual exclusivity to be respected.

“And to have you – a nurse, a nobody – continually disregard everything I ask,” his voice was natural now, raw and aching without the heavy modulation , “it drives me insane; the knowledge that you truly believed he could protect you is infuriating.”

His breath was heightening, your jaw straining as he kept fast, unrelenting thrusts into your throat. The strokes were erratic, losing pattern as he began to lose himself. “Even when it’s for your benefit you still choose to defy me, fucking – fuck – fucking whore.”

He pulled out from your throat, forcing you back on your heels, the weapon tearing deeper into you at the pressure. “Never tell me you what you think you deserve,” his hand was chaotic over his shaft, nearly colliding with your face in its ferocity. His breath stalled, and he growled, teeth clenched as a spray of spit veiled over your face, hot ropes of cum to join it, collecting onto your eyelashes and debilitating your sense of sight. “This is what you fucking deserve.”

He stroked himself through his release, breath coming in fast pants, dying into slow and separated sighs. A gust of air blew your hair over your ears, and the sudden feel of gloved thumbs swiping over your face permitted your sight once more, meeting the red face of your master, but also introducing you to the shocking sight of light, glinting over the rivulets of tears which streaked over his cheeks. It was disturbing at first, processing that his red eyes were for you, realizing that your decision had actually affected him and enraged him to this extent.

He shoved his thumbs into your mouth, not registering the taste as the expression which resided over his face haunted you with its familiarity. Once more he thought you’d abandoned him. Like those months ago when you’d come home late on the Finalizer, his eyes were ignited with that same sense of desertion. He was not justified in his actions, not that he ever needed to be, but you could acknowledge that this reaction wasn’t one foreign in its nature, but the only way he knew to reassert himself.

His hands left your mouth and reached behind your back, his eyes never leaving yours as he blindly unbound you. When you fell forward, your face pressed into his chest, his hands lifted you below your thighs, your breath seething as the movements caused the jagged weapon to shift within you; he placed you on your knees, one hand unmoving to stabilize you, the other clasping over the crossbars, gearing up to rip his weapon from your core.

The hand at your thigh gripped into you as he dragged the hilt out, your breath wheezing into his chest as it left, every inch leaving an immediate emptiness in its wake. A pain-sodden tear fell from your face to his skin, a gasp leaving as he pulled out the last of it.

“Kylo,” you said into his chest.

“That’s not how you should address me,” his voice wasn’t empty, instead guarded and rasped with the ghosts of his earlier rage.

You licked your lips and placed your hands on either of his shoulders, pulling away from him as his other hand came back to support you. “Kylo,” you repeated, watching his face, aching as he looked at you with so much betrayal.

It was an impossible thing to choose how to express your sorrow while also preserving your earlier explanation of why you didn’t come to him. Though it felt unfair, you couldn’t help but feel a piece of your heart break as you looked into the shattered face of the person who had given you a purpose. Words continued to evade you, the only thoughts processing being this is your fault, this could’ve been helped, what kind of nurse abandons her patient? They burgeoned in your head, capitalizing your indecision in how to say the right words without betraying your own beliefs.

“I didn’t – I’m… I can’t,” you grunted, your thoughts clamoring your words into stuttered nonsense. “I will never abandon you.”

It seemed like the best way to get to your point, maybe not encompassing everything you needed to say, but emphasizing on the highlights. His lips parted, breath falling out before you. His eyes twitched, no response coming to him as you analyzed every tiny change, watching as the wetness which plagued his cheeks dried as time passed.

“I didn’t kiss him,” you said, realizing what else may be haunting him. Every feature on his face stopped. Bingo. “I was going to… I thought I’d want to, but…”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze drifting between your eyes and down over your lips. “But what?” It was a whispered, raspy sound, so new and surprising.

“Something’s changed. Different.” Your looked between his eyes, over his freckles, and down to his lips.

“Something’s changed.” He repeated.

And as your energy charged into his, you found yourself completely yearning for his lips to be on yours, for his hands to be in your hair, or on your face, or his touch anywhere on your body at all. That was it. It wasn’t something that had changed. It was someone. And though you knew you had felt something for him before, accepting that you’d lost the last piece of whatever it was when you left the stars that night, you never knew how focused that feeling had become until you were forced to recognize that you no longer felt that way for anyone else other than the man before you.

His hands ghosted over your curves, trickling electricity in their trails until they buzzed in place over your cheeks. He brought your face to his, his lips enrapturing yours in the kiss you didn’t know you’d been seeking. It was powerful, how his mouth moved in rhythm with yours like he knew your every thought. He began to stand; as his legs straightened, he kept his spine bent, his hands unmoving from your face. You threw your hands up to his neck, teasing the coil of hair at his nape as your thumbs traced along his jawline.

He moaned into your mouth, his tongue gliding over yours as his hands moved down your curves before he bent down and took you from the floor, prompting your legs to wrap around his waist while he walked you through his quarters. You collected the remaining tears from his cheeks, either with your thumbs or dragging them along your own face as you kissed down to him, your hands brushing through his thick hair, reveling in the closeness which flourished between you both.

Distantly, a door hissed open and shut, and before you had opened your eyes, your back was against an expansive mattress. Kylo pulled away, your neck following him as long as it could before he was too far. He kept his honey eyes focused on yours, his hands working hard to remove his outer robes and padding. Even in this small distance, your body ached for his, the seconds burning beneath your skin as your core pleaded to be filled by him. Only him.

He threw his shirt off and loosened the fasteners of his pants, letting them fall and kicking them off before he climbed back on top of you, trailing kisses up your sternum, into your breasts, and up your artery as he made his way back to your face. He whispered your name into your mouth, legs positioning himself so the head of his erection slid between your folds, a moan leaving you as the sensation sung through every vein in your body.

“Kylo,” you whispered back, legs locking over his back, fingers treading through his locks, binding him to you in their hunger.

He took your hands from his hair, pinning them above your head beneath his own. He gazed down to you, his fingers winding between yours, his eyebrows raising as a means of readying you. In response, clasping your fingers into his, lifting your face and pulling his lips down to yours. He thrust into you, sating the void his weapon had incited. A cry left your mouth, the first one that wasn’t inspired by pain, but instead by need. By want. By completeness.

The grip on your hands tightened as he pulled his hips back, a groan leaving him, the vibration of his chest buzzing through your own. The friction of his body over yours was other-worldly, feeling simultaneously familiar and new. He rocked into you, his lips falling down to your jawline, sucking new bruises in their path, feeling heavenly when his teeth would scrape against your skin with urgent want. Without saying anything, as he knew everything you felt, the Force engulfed your aching clit, never having felt as powerful as it did now, your back arching into his chest as you cried out against his hair.

Everything combined to create a sense of celestial wholeness – the smell of his sweat-damp hair, the taste of your dried blood washing from his tongue to yours, his skin igniting atop your own, the way his cock made your walls chorus with sublimity. His thrusts came faster, the Force quickening and increasing in its pressure, his hands tightening further; he had constructed your release in minutes, sending you soaring into a limitless reality only he knew how to create.

“Oh, Kylo. Kylo. Kylo, Ky…” His lips pressed against yours just as he fell in line with his own release, moans ricocheting through his mouth and yours.

The hands which strangled yours loosened, staying in place as his pulse jostled into yours, his head falling just below your chin. He stayed there, his weight bearing over you, his breath brushing over your forearm as his bare chest tided with yours. Though it seemed misplaced as only minutes ago he’d tormented you, with him now, here in his sated state, you felt a protection you’d never expected. None of this was ever planned, and even if he didn’t feel a fraction of what you felt right now, you knew you’d never willingly trade it for anything, basking in every part of himself that he offered.

Kylo took a final breath before rolling off of you, keeping one of his hands with yours momentarily as the other peeled the blankets from above his head. His arms gripped over your shoulder and pulled you against him, the sheets gliding beneath and eventually encapsulating your body to his. The breaths that fell from his parted lips blew over your hair, tickling the stray pieces which framed your face before you nuzzled into him and placed your hand on top of his chest.

“The Board doesn’t have any say over what happens to you,” he said, voice tired and absent. “I do.”

Not quite believing he even thought that was true, considering he might be using your technique of saying something in order to make it true, you didn’t feel like ruining this quintessential moment. “Okay.”

And as you lied with him, listening to his heart – sixty-one beats per minute, strong and steady – you felt your own working to heal itself, coming back together as you promised yourself – inwardly, and however hopelessly – that this wouldn’t be temporary; that this had even the slightest chance at surviving the incoming monsoon life promised. And as you kept repeating that thought, you realized that your earlier dream – the one of falling asleep in Kylo Ren’s arms – was no longer a dream at all, the reality of his strength coiled around you being what lulled you into unconsciousness.

[mitchintille]

2021 Mock Draft 1.0

Super Bowl 55 is just a few days away, which means draft season is looming in the rearview mirror. In a class that is expected to produce an abundance of offensive talent, several teams could benefit from this year’s crop. With a reported possibility of 18 teams looking for a change at the quarterback position, there is quite a bit of ambiguity as we approach the draft, and this year could shape up to be one of the wildest drafts we’ve seen in recent memory. Without further ado, here are my early first round predictions for the 2021 NFL draft....

1. Jacksonville Jaguars: Trevor Lawrence, QB, Clemson

From the moment he set foot on campus his freshman season, Lawrence has always has shown the capabilities of being a future NFL star. He took no time bursting onto the scene. After a dazzling freshman season, in which he lead the Tigers to a title in blowout fashion over an absolutely loaded Alabama team, he followed it up with two more trips to the playoffs, including another trip to the title game.

The former No.1 overall recruit in the country offers everything one could wish for in a franchise quarterback.  He is a gifted, natural thrower of the football who is wise beyond his years at the position. Even new head coach Urban Meyer feels that he has the potential to be the best QB ever. Jaguars fans, your savior has come. Rejoice. 

2. Houston Texans: Zach Wilson, QB, BYU

Houston receives: 2nd overall pick (2021), 23rd overall pick (2021), 3rd round pick (2021), 1st round pick (2022), 4th round pick (2022)

New York receives: Deshaun Watson, 6th round pick (2022)

Let’s get weird. Deshaun Watson being traded has reached inevitability status, and the Jets are stockpiled with draft picks over the next few years. It has been rumored that Watson would prefer to play for the Jets under the tutelage of new head coach Robert Saleh. The Jets have the firepower to make this pick happen, and in this scenario they pull off the mega deal and get their guy. So where does that leave Houston?

 They luck into a talented, natural thrower of the football, with a very clean feel for the pocket. He has a rocket arm, and is particularly impressive when asked to go off script. The Texans rebuild will undoubtedly be a long one, but with Wilson, they have a fresh face of the franchise moving forward, and will look to continue adding more weapons around him to set him up for success.  

3. San Francisco 49ers: Justin Fields, QB, Ohio State

San Francisco receives: 3rd overall pick (2021), 5th round pick (2022)

Miami receives: 12th overall pick (2021), 43rd overall pick (2021), 1st round pick (2022), 3rd round pick (2022), 7th round pick (2022)

Between the Rams’ recent trade for Matthew Stafford, and Kyle Shanahan remaining noncommittal on Jimmy Garoppolo for the foreseeable future, it wouldn’t shock me to see John Lynch be aggressive and try to nab their QB of the future. 

Fields put up gaudy numbers in his first year as a starter, posting an absurd 51-3 TD/INT ratio. He showed a bit of regression in a COVID-shortened year two, but still displayed all of the tools you’d hope to see when searching for a franchise QB. 

Finding a way to get Jimmy G’s lucrative contract off the books, and adding a talented player like Fields would be a win-win for an organization whom I feel would GREATLY benefit from a changing of the guard under center. 

4. Atlanta Falcons: Trey Lance, QB, North Dakota State 

With the arrival of new head coach Arthur Smith, it is time for a rebrand in Atlanta. Matt Ryan is expected to make over $40m a season for the next two years, and while he is certainly not the main issue with this team, the Falcons need to move in a new direction. 

Lance is perhaps the most polarizing player in this year’s class. Similar to Fields, he too posted video game like numbers in his first year at the helm. The Minnesota product threw for 28 TD’s, while posting another 14 on the ground. He also didn’t throw an interception all season. He possess all of the physical tools that NFL teams salivate over, and while questions will remain in regards to the inferior competition he’s been exposed to over his career, the opportunity to sit and learn from Matt Ryan could serve both himself and the Falcons some good.

5. Cincinnati Bengals: Penei Sewell, OT, Oregon

If Sewell is on the board, he will be the pick for the Bengals. After breakout rookie quarterback Joe Burrow suffered a season-ending ACL tear, the sense of urgency to upgrade the offensive line should be at an all-time high for the Bengals.

 Sewell allowed just one sack over 1,376 career snaps and will spend the majority of his rookie season at age 20. He is a smooth mover with easy power, who is capable of playing on either side of the line. He is the exact type of stalwart that is needed for the Bengals to protect their QB of the future. 

6. Philadelphia Eagles: DeVonta Smith, WR, Alabama

I don’t know what to make of the Eagles’ current situation. They are in QB purgatory and have gaping holes riddled across their roster. With the recent hiring of Colts’ OC Nick Sirianni, I’d imagine adding offensive firepower would be at the top of his to-do list. Assuming they move forward with Jalen Hurts at QB, it is imperative to surround him with quality skill players. After drafting Jalen Reagor in the first round last year, they double dip this year and take the reigning Heisman Trophy winner.

 Smith is not the most conventional receiver, being that there aren’t too many 6′1, 175-lb receivers who have enjoyed prolonged success in the league, but Smith doesn’t care about your player profiles. Smith can make plays all over the field and beat you in a myriad of ways. He is a nuanced route runner with a seemingly natural feel for his position, and someone I can assume Sirianni will fall in love with as the draft process begins to heat up.

7. Detroit Lions: Jaylen Waddle, WR, Alabama 

If Lance were to have fallen to this spot, I’d have probably made him the selection. However, I’ll opt to give them a difference maker like Waddle.

 With Kenny Golladay’s impending departure and both Danny Amendola and Marvin Jones Jr. testing the open market, that WR room could get UGLY in a hurry. Waddle is essentially a supercharged version of his former teammate Henry Ruggs. He has legit 4.2 speed, and does a great job of tracking the deep ball. The Lions are desperate for speed on the perimeter, and Waddle would be an instant upgrade to what they have now. He’s a true, top-10 talent assuming he manages to stay healthy.

8. Carolina Panthers: Ja’marr Chase, WR, LSU

Now just hear me out on this. Curtis Samuel is approaching free agency and will likely be headed elsewhere. Aside from DJ Moore and Robby Anderson, the cupboard is bare. Chase put up record-setting numbers in his only year under current Panthers OC Joe Brady when they were at LSU, so a reunion would only be right.

 Chase is perhaps the best player in the entire class regardless of position. He is a physical route-runner who attacks the catch point with ease, and his RAC ability might be his best trait. He is very reminiscent of Moore, and pairing those two along with Anderson’s deep speed could perhaps create the most dangerous receiving trio in the NFL.

9. Denver Broncos: Caleb Farley, CB, Virginia Tech

After an heavy offensive draft last year, the Broncos buck the trend and refocus on rebuilding their defense. Farley’s size and athleticism are a perfect fit in Vic Fangio’s versatile defensive scheme. I believe Farley has the potential to be a star in this league very quickly. 

10. Dallas Cowboys: Rashawn Slater, OT, Northwestern

After wrestling back and forth with myself on this pick, the Cowboys settle on Slater. The once elite Cowboys offensive line has suddenly deteriorated into mediocrity. With both Tyron Smith and La’el Collins returning from injuries, Slater can serve as an insurance policy at either position, or kick him inside if need be. 

His versatility and strong lower half are both commendable traits that should allow him to see a long career in the NFL.

11. New York Giants: Patrick Surtain II, CB, Alabama 

Truthfully, this might be the most unpredictable pick in the first round. Dave Gettleman is tricky, but recently he has invested into the secondary quite a bit. After signing James Bradberry to a pricy extension last off-season, they also invested a pick into Xavier McKinney, as well as the addition of guys like Logan Ryan and Jabrill Peppers.

With Surtain, he brings a combo of length and savvy to the position, and would serve as the Giants’ other outside corner opposite of Bradberry.

12. Miami Dolphins: Kyle Pitts, TE, Florida

San Francisco receives: 3rd overall pick (2021), 5th round pick (2022)

Miami receives: 12th overall pick (2021), 43rd overall pick (2021), 1st round pick (2022), 3rd round pick (2022), 7th round pick (2022)

Yes, I’m highly aware that Mike Gesicki exists. But hear me out on this one, Pitts is more than just your standard “tight end” prospect. If it weren’t for a TE listed next to his position, I’d say that he’s the second best receiver in the draft. 

He is nearly impossible to match up against. He’s too fast for linebackers and too physical for corners. He’s shown the capability to play in the slot, flexed out wide, or with his hand in the dirt. Pairing him and Gesicki together will give Tua Tagovailoa (assuming he remains their guy moving forward), a plethora of weapons at his disposal.

13. Los Angeles Chargers: Christian Darrisaw, OT, Virginia Tech

Keeping Justin Herbert clean and protected should be the top priority heading into the offseason for Tom Telesco. After a breakout rookie season, it seems the Chargers struck a goldmine in Herbert. Being that the Chargers haven’t had a decent offensive line in years, a trip out west would make sense for Darrisaw. 

The Virginia Tech product is a very fluid mover, whose length and quickness allow him to reach the second level with ease as a run blocker. He will be an instant upgrade to their run game, and has the maturity to protect Herbert’s blindside from day one in LA. 

14. Minnesota Vikings: Gregory Rousseau, EDGE, Miami

After the loss of Everson Griffen to free agency, and Danielle Hunter missing most of the 2020 season due to a back injury, the Vikings should be looking to rebuild their pass rush. Mike Zimmer seems to have a knack for high-ceiling pass rushers with athletic upside. Rousseau fits the bill.

 The Florida native saw his star shine after a dazzling sophomore season, racking up an impressive 15.5 sacks. Rousseau has easy power off the edge. While he is still a bit raw from a technician standpoint, his natural power and length will be a nightmare for tackles to deal with from day one. If he can mature his game, he has the potential to be one of the most productive edge rushers in the league in due time. 

15. New England Patriots: Micah Parsons, EDGE, Penn State

After some recent concerns over Parsons’ character, he sees his stock slide and he falls into the lap of Bill Belichick. After being used in several different spots at Penn State,

 Parsons projects best as an EDGE, but has the necessary tools to develop his skills over time. Belichick has a fetish for hybrid linebackers that can rush the passer, and pairing the two together would do wonders for his development over time.

16. Arizona Cardinals: Jaycee Horn, CB, South Carolina

After adding Matthew Stafford to the division, and the Niners looking to upgrade at the quarterback position, it is time for the Cardinals to get better in the secondary. Quickly.

 Horn is an excellent press corner, with an alpha-dog type mentality that should fit in well in the Cardinals’ back end. He does have a tendency to be too grabby and aggressive at times, and his lack of size will hurt him against bigger receivers. He is not a perfect corner prospect, but the Cardinals don’t have much of a choice here. 

17. Las Vegas Raiders: Jaelan Phillips, EDGE, Miami 

Truthfully, I have no idea what to predict here. The front office is an absolute mess, and have proven themselves to be incompetent when it comes to drafting. After missing badly on Clelin Ferrell a few years ago, they have a chance to redeem themselves with the selection of Phillips. 

The former number one overall recruit had a late start to his career, after suffering several injuries and at one point declaring himself medically retired. After transferring to Miami from UCLA, Phillips began to improve his game, and vaulted himself into first round considerations after a breakout 2020 campaign. His injury history may force him to fall, but his combination of size, speed, and motor is very exciting, and he may be the exact type of player Mike Mayock falls in love with.

18. Miami Dolphins: Zaven Collins, LB, Tulsa

Brian Flores is one of the few Belichick proteges recently that has found success as a head coach. Much like Belichick, Flores places a large emphasis on versatility, particularly on the defensive side of the ball. This is why Collins would be a perfect fit on day one. 

Collins was truly a jack-of-all-trades in his time at Tulsa. He was one of the best players in all of college football last season, and did so in a number of ways. He can rush the passer, cover a runningback out of the backfield. Think D’onta Hightower type role for Collins if he were to head to south beach.

19. Washington Football Team: Mac Jones, QB, Alabama

With the trend in the NFL heading towards a youth movement at QB, it wouldn’t shock me to see Washington fall in love with Jones.

Although he’s not the most dynamic passer, Jones is a solid athlete with an incredibly comfortable feel for the game. He is a great processor with plus accuracy, and has shown impressive flashes of improvisation. He may not have a very high ceiling moving forward, but I can him instantly making that team better and elevating them into playoff contention on a year-to-year basis.

20. Chicago Bears: Rashod Bateman, WR, Minnesota

With Allen Robinson likely headed elsewhere in free agency and Anthony Miller’s slow start, the time is now to add playmakers on the offensive side of the ball. Insert Bateman.

One of the most forgotten men in the whole class, Bateman is silky smooth in everything he does, and will be the most physical WR on any field he steps on. He eats up intermediate routes, and is capable of being a vertical threat. His game reminds me a ton of guys like Keenan Allen and Michael Thomas, not the most physically gifted guys, but masters of their craft and play to their strengths.

Whether or not the Bears decide to move forward with Mitchell Trubisky at QB or not, it is imperative to give the man under center some more feasible options to work with in the passing game.

21. Indianapolis Colts: Kwity Paye, EDGE, Michigan

While the temptation was high to take a receiver here, I opted for the highly athletic EDGE with limitless upside.

Not having a combine will prove to affect Paye’s stock, as he was expected to test through the roof at his position. Once listed as one of Bruce Feldman’s “freaks”, Paye finally applied his athleticism to the field in 2020. He is very reliant on his natural power and speed, and has yet to develop any consistent counter moves. If developed properly, his size/speed combo alongside Deforest Buckner could prove to be deadly for an already improving defense.

22. Tennessee Titans: Azeez Ojulari, EDGE, Georgia

Being that the Jadeveon Clowney acquisition backfired on them, the Titans are still in search of a consistent pass rush opposite of Harold Landry.

Ojulari is young and lacks experience. But when his motor gets going, he could be the most explosive rusher in the class. He’d be perfect in their 3-4 defense, and has the potential to be a good player in space as he gains more experience. 

23. New York Jets: Joseph Ossai, EDGE, Texas

One of the staples of a Robert Saleh defense is consistent pressure off the edge. The Jets lack any and all types of pass rush at the moment, and Ossai’s intriguing upside in that defense could see him turn out to be a very productive player.

24. Pittsburgh Steelers: Liam Eichenberg, OT, Notre Dame

Man, Notre Dame just pumps them out, don’t they? With GM Kevin Colbert’s affinity for drafting players from big name schools, Eichenberg becomes the most recent, NFL product of the offensive line factory that is Notre Dame.

Much like any of the Notre Dame linemen of the past, Eichenberg is techincally sound in everything he does. He may not be athletic enough to play left tackle, but is a plug and play right tackle from day one.

25. Jacksonville Jaguars: Samuel Cosmi, OT, Texas

Although the temptation would be to select a receiver here, the Jags have $100m in cap space to work with, which can be spent on one of the receivers in what is expected to be an impressive free agency class. 

Cosmi may be a little undersized, but is very athletic and light on his feet for the position. If he can bulk up and maintain his athleticism, I can see him being the Jaguars’ left tackle for the next decade. 

26. Cleveland Browns: Jeremiah Owusu-Koramoah, LB, Notre Dame

A surprising slide leaves Cleveland with one of the most gifted players in the draft. 

JOK is a heat-seeking missile, who showed very impressive flashes in coverage. He is the prototypical, modern-day NFL linebacker through and through.

27. Baltimore Ravens: Kadarius Toney, WR, Florida

Eric Decosta recently hinted at his lust for the dynamic Florida receiver. Toney was used in several different ways over the course of his career, but really seemed to find himself as a slot receiver in 2020.

On a team desperate for playmakers on offense, Toney would fit like a glove on that intermediate/short game offensive scheme. Toney is a menace with the ball in his hands. He has incredible contact balance and vision. If he continues to progress as a receiver, he would be a very nice addition. 

28. New Orleans Saints: Christian Barmore, IDL, Alabama

In what looks to be a fairly uninspiring IDL class, Barmore’s stock rose in his first season as a starter. The Philly native has clubs for hands, and he proved himself to be un-blockable down the stretch. Ohio State had no answer for him in the national championship game, and he seems to only be sratching the surface of what he can become.

In this case, the Saints don’t reach for a QB and draft the best player on the board, which just so happens to be Barmore. 

29. Green Bay Packers: Dyami Brown, WR, North Carolina

The Packers failure to address the receiver position came full circle this season. After losing their second consecutive NFC Championship, the lack of talent at WR cost them in the end. Enter Dyami Brown, one of the best kept secrets in the entire draft. 

Brown is a budding star. Only listed at 6′1, 185-lb, Brown consistently plays larger than his frame. He is perhaps the best vertical threat in the entire draft. Brown displays freakish ball tracking skills, along with 4.3 speed. Pairing him with Rodgers could be the missing piece that gets them over the hump moving forward, and would show that the organization is dedicated to Rodgers as their guy until he retires. 

30. Buffalo Bills: Nick Bolton, LB, Missouri 

With Matt Milano’s future with the Bills in question, it would not surprise me to see them cut bait and go after the athletic and physical SEC backer.

Bolton is a bit undersized for the position, so pairing him with Tremaine Edmunds would be the perfect complement. He great sideline to sideline speed, and will be an immediate upgrade over Milano from an athletic standpoint.

31. Tampa Bay Buccaneers: Alex Leatherwood, OT, Alabama

With Donovan Smith set to become a free agent, I’d imagine the Bucs will look to replace him this off-season.

Leatherwood was a two-year starter at left tackle, but is capable of playing on the interior as well. Even if the Bucs were to bring Smith back, having a depth piece to the quality of Leatherwood could serve vital for a team who is destined ti make a run until Tom Brady’s retirement.

32. Kansas City Chiefs: Alijah Vera-Tucker, iOL, USC

An interesting storyline that has gotten lost in the mix of guys like Patrick Mahomes, Tyreek Hill, and Travis Kelce, the Chiefs have battled several injuries along the offensive line. They’re likely to play 3-4 backups in the Super Bowl this Sunday. 

Although the production remains elite and ultimately the deteriorating health on the line hasn’t bitten them yet, it is not a sustainable way to move forward. 

Vera-Tucker is a highly refined player, who has experience playing at any spot on the line. Much like the Bucs, adding quality depth and talent among the offensive line to protect your franchise should never be a move that is scrutinized.

[ba-hons-film-blog]

Film Narrative 2 - Week 1:

Our Fiction Project:

For this project we are to create a conversation piece between two characters that is three minutes in length, in groups of five (my group consists of Calum White, Euan Miller, Robbie Smith, Rosie Playford and myself).

Euan pitched the basic idea to the group of a film following a salesman who is trying to sell something. Euan deliberately kept the idea very basic so that we could expand the idea if we liked it.

We expanded the idea so it followed a weary salesman who desperately needs to sell his items to feed his family. He begins pitching his products to an elderly woman, who invites him into her home. However, it becomes clear she isn't interested in what he is selling, and, unable to face another door being slammed in his face, begins to turn to some more dubious methods to sell his product. What these methods would be, and how the film would conclude are both things we haven't settled on, but the current most obvious choices are:

He stoops to a new low to sell his item and leaves, ashamed in himself but content in the knowledge his family won’t go hungry

He has a sudden change of heart and can't go through with his plan

Some radically unexpected happens (anything from the elderly woman having a heart attack to turning out to be a former mafioso, although those ideas are unlikely)

Personally, I feel the first option works if the film is meant to follow the characters moral decline, but the ending is someone we shall discuss in more depth soon.

Characters:

As per the brief, our film would focus on two main characters:

The Salesman - Male, early thirties. He has been working as a salesman for some time and it is beginning to show - his suit is worn out, his fake smile is more strained than it once was, and his morals have begun to decline. Despite this, he is still generally a decent person, and cares deeply for his family, for whom he is the breadwinner. While he begins the film trying to sell his item honestly, he begins to turn to increasingly questionable tactics when faced with the prospect of another door being slammed in his face, which would see his family go hungry.

The Elderly Lady - Late seventies. A lonely widow with a rather mundane life, who is not all there in the head. When the salesman first arrives, she welcomes him in not because she is interested in the product but because she wants the company. Her need for company is something the salesman is initially dismissive of, until he realises that preying on this need could be the way to seal this particular deal.

Other Notes:

I think the idea has good potential for tension with regards to:

Will the salesman succeed in his initial attempt to sell his product?

What will he do after his initial rejection?

Will the salesman disregard his morals to make this sale, or will he manage to suppress his more dubious ways?

How will the elderly lady react to all this? Why has she let him in and what does she want from him? Additionally, due to her not being all there in the head, there is the additional issue of whether she is even following what is being said. It could be quite amusing to see the salesman going through his usual flamboyant pitch, only to pause to wonder if the lady is even following what is being said.

As for what he is selling, we liked the idea he would be seeing something trivial along the lines of a clock - this would allow him to make a big exaggerated speech about the significance of what he has to offer, only for it to be revealed as a simple clock. Hopefully, this would be a funny anticlimax. However, this might not feel like it's substantial enough that forcing this woman to buy it would be that big of a deal.

While we have not thought at all about cinematography, I did have one idea I thought would be worth sharing. I suggested the opening shot be something like this:

(The orange lines are for the walls between the front gardens. The shaded green areas are the paths. Please excuse the crude nature of this sketch.)

The salesman would start by being pushed out into the neighbouring garden and having the door shoved in his face. He would then walk into the next garden, stop in front of the camera, take a moment to compose himself, before knocking on the door. I thought this was a nice bit of visual storytelling that, within one scene, establishes his life as an unsuccessful door to door salesman.

Next Steps:

Euan volunteered to make a first draft based on our current ideas, so we could then begin to work out what worked, what didn't, and then, as a group, begin revising the script to our satisfaction. We also set about making a moodboard.

So far, I am happy with our progress. Everyone got along well and contributed to the discussion in equal measure. I think our idea is simple but effective, has a good main character and the potential to generate some solid tension.

[mittensmorgul]

I rewatched 15x07 today and I just couldn't stop seeing how much Eileen was Chuck in 15x7. Her personality, the "ew" when Cas said some part of Sam's soul is in Chuck, her reactions to any talk of Chuck, how she was standing behind Sam and sort of side eying him when Sam said he had been in Chuck's head... Well, even when she propositioned Sam, they were supposed to be looking for ways to *stop* Chuck. Why do you think the show chose to focus on that instead of developing Saileen's relationship?

omg, okay... so you see this exactly the same way I do, and I really wrestled with whether to post this publicly or not, because every time I bring up these extremely valid points, confirmed in canon by Chuck, I get told I’m either a horrible person for thinking this way or I’m delusional or a moron for feeling uncomfortable ignoring this stuff just for the sake of a ship. And I just... can’t ignore it. Because it’s canon.

One of the Big Questions of the entire season is “what is real, and what is Chuck.” Eileen returned ONE EPISODE after we learned the extent of Chuck’s ability to fuck with them directly, via Lilith. The notion that Chuck would just drop that lesson on them and then peace out is just... idiotic to me. We were supposed to see Sam’s statement at the beginning of 15.06, and Dean’s reply, as the huge flashing neon warning sign it was supposed to be:

Sam: No. I haven't had a vision since Colorado. I think maybe they stopped.Dean: Oh, I doubt it. Not until Chuck gets His end game, you know? The Winchester Bowl. Cain and Abel 2.0. This is God we're talking about. G-O-D. Wouldn't be too worried about finding Him. He'll find us. 

LOLOLOLOL I mean, yes? He doesn’t even have to look hard to find you? He knows exactly where you are and how to manipulate you. He’s been doing it basically forever.

and then all of a sudden *random dead character we haven’t seen or even MENTIONED in three years* just suddenly appears specifically needing their help? And we’re supposed to think it’s an unproblematic win all around?

Sure Jan.

Chuck honestly couldn’t have chosen a better lure to send them. Someone the Winchesters would be thrown off by, someone they felt guilt over not having been able to save. Someone they’d be willing to drop everything else to help, and wouldn’t question remaining present in their lives. Someone they would trust without question. And specifically someone who had the kind of connection to Sam that Chuck could exploit to further the divide between Sam and Dean. Exactly as we saw happen... Dean made assumptions about their relationship and retreated even further into his own issues, leaving Sam alone and open to Chuck using Eileen in exactly the way we saw play out in his Vision of the Future in 15.09... driving Sam into her arms only to kill her off in a horrific, tragic situation in order to manipulate Sam into the reckless nihilism that engulfed their world by the end. Sounds exactly like what Chuck failed to accomplish with the whole BMoL plot in s12, which we ALSO know was orchestrated BY HIM, thanks to 14.20. Same story, different turn of the wheel.

Because Chuck needed all of that to get around the effects of that wound and lay down a trap that would eventually be sprung at the end of 15.08. If Cas hadn’t gone poking around in Sam’s wound, compromising Chuck’s plan, theoretically I believe he would’ve continued to use Eileen as his eyes on the Winchesters. The whole “lure Eileen out of the bunker and ensure she brings Sam along for the ride” thing felt more like a scramble to find a faster solution to his bigger problem and eliminate the compromised middle-man in his ability to directly mess with the Winchesters, which brought us to 15.09 and his desperation to force Sam into “breaking the connection” by his own choice. Since it was Sam’s will that fired the not-a-bullet that wounded them both in the first place. He literally had to break Sam’s will that generated that connection in 14.20.

As far as Chuck knew, his plans for Eileen to seduce Sam had failed, repeatedly. Between Cas’s cockblock entrance in 15.07 (which I still struggle to see as Sam ready to accept her proposition, for SO many reasons... I mean just look at his face in the first moments after it registers that she’s propositioning him. Those initial reactions are absolutely not undiluted romantic interest and passion, much as some creatively edited gif sets would lead you to believe.

I appreciate this one, with the further context of 15.09 to support my tag on it from the day after 15.07 aired.

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/189512551075

The look Eileen gives Cas is just screaming come on you believe me right? I’m completely innocent in all of this! Just nice little sweet resurrected Eileen! Like Chuck hadn’t expected Cas to show back up and interfere with his Seduce Sam for Manpain plan.

But that seduction scene actually hurts to watch... I mean, Sam is still feeling the guilt and pain over having killed Rowena, only to discover all of her worldly possessions and magic had been entrusted to him (and not yet knowing that specific spell to resurrect Eileen had been planted by Chuck as a deliberate manipulation in itself...).  LOOK AT THIS SERIES OF FACIAL EXPRESSIONS AND EXPLAIN HOW THIS IS ROMANTIC INTEREST AND NOT GRIEF AND SHOCK:

https://canonspngifs.tumblr.com/post/189663948344/adaav-sam-winchester-15x07

Okay, now that’s out of the way, back to Eileen.

Why did they make this particular choice for her character instead of developing a real relationship with Sam and Eileen? Because she was never written with the intent of becoming Sam’s endgame love interest.

Full stop.

Anyone who says otherwise is either choosing to believe that because it props up their chosen ship or they’re unaware of the numerous times that Robbie Thompson has contradicted that statement.

I mean, I don’t usually quote this source, but this is Robbie Thompson speaking recently (within the last year) specifically about the creation of Eileen’s character:

Next up: Eileen and Shoshannah. Did they specifically want a woman hunter?

Robbie: No, it was just, they were looking for standalone episodes. So what will happen is the showrunners will come around and say, “Hey, we need a myth-arc episode. Please deliver X, Y, and Z, but build an episode around it. Or [do] a standalone.” I had this idea for this character and I had worked with Shoshannah, sort of tangentially, because I was the writer’s assistant and I wrote an episode of Jericho. She wasn’t in the episode that I wrote but she played Bonnie on that show and (this is a spoiler if you haven’t seen Jericho) her character has an untimely death. But Shoshannah was so good in the series, and she was so terrific in that episode. She’s a badass in that episode, with a whole infiltration thing and she’s blowing dudes away with a shotgun, and I was like, “Oh, I wanna see her kick some ass.” I always wanted to work with her again. So I pitched the episode with that character in mind, and then I was like, “I’d love to work with Shoshannah again.” They reached out and she fortunately had a window in her schedule; she was available.

Then I reached out, I think originally through her manager, to say, “Hey, can you put us in touch because I’m not deaf and I want to make sure I’m getting an authentic experience for the performer.” So she and I exchanged a bunch of emails. She’s since gone on to be a showrunner and a writer in her own regard. She’s a really, really brilliant writer and a brilliant actor as well. It was great being able to get her the script early so she could help me fix the parts that didn’t work. Then, on the day, she and Jared had really great chemistry and John Badham, who was the director of that episode ("Into the Mystic" 11.11), they really played around and found a lot of fun moments that weren’t scripted at all. That was just them having fun and building moments.

All those cute chemistry moments... were never even scripted. She was intended to be a one-off character that was unsurprisingly very well loved by fandom, and who was brought back when the overarching plot made her MoL connection relevant to the story in 12.17. Unfortunately for her, that meant her ONLY purpose for returning to the story was literally to be killed for Sam’s manpain. They gave her just enough cute chemistry with Sam to imply they had the potential for a romantic connection, and then killed her in one of the most brutal and horrific ways possible. Which was literally exactly what Chuck used her for in s15.

I’d like to suggest that, knowing the full truth of her entire situation, that the sinister parallel being suggested in 15.07 is not between Cas and Eileen, but between Eileen and Lee Webb. Sam’s history with her is similarly tragic to Dean’s history with Lee. And Lee represented a version of an apple pie life that tempted Dean-- the prospect of having food, fun, health, and happiness instead of the grind of hunting. Only it was a lie, because Lee hadn’t made that life for himself, he’d built it off the magic of a creature he sacrificed an endless stream of human lives to in order to falsely manipulate his own circumstances. The cake is a lie, in other words. Just like the cheerful hangover breakfast Sam and Eileen were preparing at the beginning of the episode. It just... wasn’t real. We were being urged to consider this parallel. And not seeing it for what it was required having some heavy duty ship goggles glued on.

This was doubled-down on in 15.08, with Sam being a bit overbearing and nearly getting himself killed in the opening hunt, pushing Eileen to their “agreement,” which additionally foiled Chuck’s plans to push them together romantically. Eileen couldn’t spy on Sam for Chuck if she still retained enough independence to set boundaries like that, you know? If she didn’t have eyes on the Winchesters, she wasn’t useful for what Chuck was using her for, and she was punished for that failure as much as Sam was, being forced to hurt Sam in 15.09.

Heck. This is how I’ve always seen all of this. If folks enjoy assuming some Grand Romance between Sam and Eileen, more power to them. But honestly I just can’t personally see the justification in canon for that read on things. Not to say that Sam and Eileen won’t choose to come to a different understanding in the future, or that their relationship couldn’t develop into something more once Chuck has been dealt with, but I can’t see it as romantic yet. I’d be totally down to ship them in that eventuality. And in fanon, I’m totally here for it even now.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer II: Chapter 3: Sons of Raj

“You’re not bad!” Robertson passed me the basketball. 

I caught it easily, dribbling in place. “I’m used to people being taller than me, it comes with the territory of being short.”

I wasn’t supposed to be outside, but I’d made so much headway on the translation project, that I could afford a day off. Ielia rapidly corrected EVA’s errors and clarified context. We were more than halfway through and it had only been ten days. 

The tale was an epic one. An Indian warrior who was strong and deadly, but wise and compassionate so that he gathered a huge following and spread his rule throughout the land of India. His name was Raj Yamir. The text praised him for his handsomeness, his humility, and his intelligence. The entire text seemed to be about him.

Master List

Robertson made sure everything was safe, before allowing me outside where he’d jerry-rigged a hoop on a tall oak tree.

“You play basketball with Johann yet?”  He asked.

“Yeah a bit, but,” I wrinkled my nose. “He’s too nervous to be competitive so… it’s not very fun.”

Robertson laughed. “You understand though. Can’t get too rough with your girlfriend out on the court.”

“Yeah well, that means we don’t play.” I put the ball under my arm, sticking out my tongue. “I play with Lu. He’s not as good though.”

Robertson looked up at the hoop, running his hands through his hair in nostalgia. “Yeah, me and Tianjiao Chu used to play all the time, all the time.” He wiped his brow. “He ain’t as good as his dad, that’s for sure.”

“You knew his dad?” I caught my breath, not expecting this.

“Oh yeah! Me and Chu go way back!” He knitted his brow.

“Hold the phone! Tell me! Tell me! What was his dad like?” I ran up to him.

“He was like Johann… but more fun. Guy liked Irish music, sappy ol’ movies. Serious about his work but … not much else. Dude was hilarious.” He laughed at a memory I couldn’t see. “In fact, Lemme show you somethin’”

We went to go sit on a concrete bench. He pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled for a while through it. “Ah… here it is. Here’s your boy.”

As soon as I took a look at it, I inhaled sharply. It was Johann as a child in a beanie and little mittens and coat, looking overjoyed at a snowman. “It’s a baby JOHANN!” I squealed, snatching the phone. “He’s so CUTE! OH MY GOD!”

Robertson was cackling at my reaction. I couldn’t help myself. “Look at his cheeks! And his cute little smile. Awwwwwwww! He’s cuuuute!” He looked at Robertson, holding the phone to myself. “Can you send this to me? Please?! Please?! I won’t show it to anyone else!”

“Sure… sure, sure, sure…” His chuckle turned mischievous.

I handed him his phone back. “Johann said you were with the Executive Department for a long time but I did not put two and two together that you worked with his dad!” I looked up at him. “He had a lot of good things to say about you.”

He blinked down at me.

“I mean, Johann did. I didn’t know his dad.”

“Oh… right…” He cleared his throat. “Uh… Do you have any questions for me?”

“We don’t… talk about our parents very much. I know his dad died.”

He sent the picture to my device. “Yeah, I was really shocked about that. The man was unbelievable with a blade. Super experienced. So… it really caught me off guard. Even after all these years. Can’t quite believe it.”

“What happened is… probably classified.”

“Very.” He gave me wide eyes. “But… I can tell you. Johann was there when it did.”

“He saw it happen.” I whispered, my brain imagined what it must have been like, empathy growing in my heart, along with my horror. 

“My only thought is… whatever happened, Tianjiao probably had to put himself in an impossible situation to save his boy… that’s all I could think of that would make sense.”

I turned away. That made a lot of sense. I didn’t know all the circumstances, but it reminded me of a lot of children in foster whose parents died, or nearly died of overdoses. Even though they were young and they were unaware of their parents’ deadly habits, they blamed themselves for what happened. Johann couldn’t be any different.

Indeed, I blamed myself occasionally for my Robbie’s death, for skipping too far into the future and not being there to save him. It was ridiculous, but that was just the way the mind worked.

“Thank you for telling me.”

He moved to pocket his phone when it buzzed. He held it to his ear. “Robertson.” He stood up. “Carli, go to the saferoom. Now!”

His commanding voice jolted me and I stood there a second, registering the sudden urgency in his voice.

I ran inside, shoving the door open so hard it swung into the wall with a bang. I ran upstairs to retrieve the laptop.

The safe room was an underfloor bunker that was resistant to all forms of scanning and explosive devices and had enough food for three days. It also had two wall mounted monitors patched into the camera equipment outside.

The property was being swarmed in broad daylight by a dozen masked motorcyclists. They were armed with automatic rifles. The images cycled and I saw Agent Lavigne standing there to meet them, two dead men at his feet. He was wearing what appeared to be a blue bandana around his neck.

EVAs voice emerged from the monitors. “Agent Lavigne has gone rogue. You are not safe here.”

I saw Robertson jogging around the large house. He was going to Lavigne. My blood ran cold. He didn’t know.  

I focused on the monitor image of Lavigne. I stood up. I closed my eyes.

I vanished into the dark. 

When I emerged, Lavigne was standing over the bodies of his two fellow agents, raising his automatic rifle towards Robertson. He recognized my presence from the corner of his eye and turned to point the gun at me, but it was too late. I pushed him with everything in me.

But he only staggered. 

He smashed the rifle into my chest. I felt the strange sensation of something inside me caving under the blow. I fell to the ground, breathless, nauseous, pain like fireworks going off. I wrapped my arms around myself, gasping.

Robertson was roaring, firing his pistol. But the bullets embedded in a wall of thick water, like jelly. It splashed to the ground, taking the bullets with it. Robertson ducked behind the corner of the building. The other gunmen had arrived.

Lavigne turned his cold, golden eyes on me. On his bandana, I saw a clear symbol of a serpent, forming the letter S followed by an R.

I squeezed my eyes shut and vanished. I appeared again, staggering with the agony, where Robertson was hiding. He looked at me, stunned. I couldn’t talk to tell him how I could do this. I grabbed his hand. I vanished with him into the dark.

We re-emerged into the hotel room I had stayed in, the one Anjou had booked for me. Fortunately, it was empty. I collapsed to the floor, raising my voice in anguish. Crying hurt, breathing hurt. But I couldn’t stop doing either.

Robertson held me down, swearing repeatedly.  He still had his phone which he dialed cradling it between his ear and shoulder. He ripped my flimsy shirt down the middle, examining my injuries.

“Schneider, we’ve been compromised. Lavigne was a traitor. Meixiu was injured. Looks to be two… maybe three broken ribs.”

A pause.

“Sir. I’m not one to make excuses but she popped out of thin air and tried to tackle the guy!”

His eyes were glittering with fury. “I told you to go to the safe room…” He hissed at me. But that was the extent of the scolding. He immediately calmed. I’d saved his life and he knew it.

“We’re… in a hotel. Sir. I…” He fought for words. “...again, I don’t know. You don’t know she can teleport? Well she can!” He looked at me. “Where are we…?”

“I can’t remember... “ I sobbed and moaned at the same time. 

He stood up and left me. I heard him reading off the name of the hotel. He returned, still on the phone, picking me up and settling me on the bed. “It’s just a matter of time before someone finds out we’re here. I’ll put a notice on the Night Watch to get this room.”

“She’s in a lot of pain. We need to get a doctor here before someone comes in asking too many questions.”

After a few more moments, he hung up. He regarded me, kneeling next to me. I held my breath, tears rolling from my eyes.

I felt his hand on my bare shoulder, lightly rubbing my arms. “EVA uploaded your work and wiped your PC. Don’t worry, we got what we needed.”

I nodded, experimentally breathing in slightly. I was shuddering, pale, and sweating. I wanted to throw up.

“We’ve got a doctor comin’... You’re calming down… good…”

The twenty minutes it took for the doctor to arrive felt like a lifetime. In the meantime, Robertson continued to massage my arms, keeping me calm, talking to me. The doctor administered morphine and the horrible aching was whisked away. Breathing never felt so good.

The men’s voice sounded distant as they performed an X-ray right on the spot. I tried to listen but they were speaking French. Eventually, the man left us alone. 

“They’re broken, but not badly. You’ll recover just fine.” He shook his head in wonder. “You crazy girl.”

“Why?...” I asked. “What happened to Lavigne?”

“Lavigne is part of a terrorist group calling themselves Sons of Raj. They’re hybrids. They’re scattered throughout the world and protect Leviathan. We were keeping our heads down once we found the palace but… eventually they were going to find out…. Never thought they had moles in Cassell though.” He stroked my hair. “Never thought that Lavigne… Damn. How could he hide something like that for so long…?”

Robertson returned his thoughts to me. “We’re going to get you out of here. Your injury isn’t bad enough to stop your work. We are going to move you closer to the palace itself in Mumbai.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “Are you serious?” I whispered, wide eyed.

“No one can do the translation as fast or as accurately as you. You’re the Asset. There is no other.”

[dextervexter]

god it really wasn’t as bad as it could have been but it certainly wasn’t the best. I will say it was definitely no where near as horny as everyone is making it out to be.

so first of all, I’m opening with I’m not gonna talk about the ENTIRE movie but just some parts of it but there will definitely be spoilers

I was right about a LOT of stuff going in, like Macavity whisking away a lot of the contenders for rebirth so he could be chosen. I was also right about Taylor Swift not being in the movie for more than five minutes, I was right about Tugger not having a massive role, I was right about Grizabella being given a past with Macavity, and I was right about the dancing being fuckin bad

I was also unfortunately right about Jenny eating her cockroaches and I literally could not look at the screen during her whole number I was so upset I felt so trapped The Gumbie Cat Number Is A Fucking Hostage Situation 

H o w e v e r -wheeze-

Over all, it was Cats. It was a really REALLY weird take on Cats, but it was consistent with the stage play save for some changes with characters and pacing. Hooper clearly watched multiple versions of the play to try and get the vision he liked the best. He understood that this would be difficult, and he did what he could to try and get this weird ass musical on screen. There are parts of it I liked, there are parts of it I didn’t care for, and there were parts I astral projected to get away from. But if you go see this movie, you will be seeing Cats as it was when it first arrive on Westend in 1981. Original arrangements of the songs are used as well, for example, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer  is sung as the jazzy and insidious number from the OLC rather than the bouncy and fun 98 version. I don’t think it’s awful but it’s definitely not what younger fans are familiar with. 

I think the only issue with the musical arrangements I have was the singing because Hooper once again insisted on having everyone sing live and it really hinders a lot of talented people. Often times I found myself wondering if these people were capable of singing in the slightest. But I think that’s just bad choices on Hooper’s part.

Let’s talk about the Good:

The best part of the film is definitely Skimbleshanks, and not just because he fucks and later kills a man with his supreme tap skills. The visuals are great, this is the only part with actual good dancing, and Steven Macrea has fantastic energy. Skimbleshanks is already one of my favorite numbers in the stage musical, and they get pretty creative with this. It was one of the moments in the movie where I could say for sure I was REALLY having a good time.

Also Les Twins were absolutely a treat to watch. They were funny, talented, clearly having a ton of fun, and played off each other as though they weren’t in a movie, they were just goofing around like real siblings do. I found myself actually missing them when they weren’t on screen

Robbie Fairchild does a decent Munkustrap and has some fun exchanges with the other characters. I also thought Jason Derulo did a wonderful job as Tugger despite not being in the film a lot. He’s self centered, clearly caught up in his own world, and is so obsessed with himself he doesn’t really flirt with anyone or focus a lot on Victoria for too long because he’s just so in love with himself and what he wants. And honestly that is basically just tugger.

The visuals are also really nice. The sets and practical effects help the movie feel more real and bring a great sense of life to this world that is happening right under the human one. The whole movie has this lovely, dream like quality to it, and it helped remind everyone we weren’t supposed to take it so seriously. 

There were also a moment with Munkustrap that I thought was really cute, where Jenny complains she’s just as good as Tugger because she can break dance too. You hear Munkustrap chuckle and say “oh yeah? show me.” in a really playful way and it was adorable, even if it resulted in me seeing Rebel Wilson pop and lock,

Lastly, and this is a big one I know a lot of fans were angry about: Misto is implied to like victoria, but it’s never stated that they end up together. Actually a lot of their interactions can be interpreted as Just Friends Being Pals. It’s definitely not as big of a problem as a lot of people were making it out to be, but it’s just not interesting and doesn’t really matter to the plot.

I liked more of it than I was expecting, especially the little shout outs to Eliot’s original drafts of the poems. I’m seeing it again tomorrow with friends so I’ll probably post more about the things I missed (i seriously missed a lot of the gumbie cat number because i was too horrified to look so maybe i will be braver this time)

NOW THE BAD!!!

This is literally the worst fucking Macavity ever and Idris Elba had every right to be as piss drunk as he was at the premier. In fact I’m pretty sure he was drunk for a majority of the film. It’s very clear he is not having a good time, he is not enjoying the story, and he doesn’t want to be there. Granted, I’m willing to place a lot of the blame on Hooper’s take on the story, which required Macavity to be a greater presence, but a lot of what we see is a clowning, pathetic, loser who is throwing a tantrum because he isn’t getting his way and he’s very very naked for most of it. His last moments in the film were so laughable, so embarrassing, and so unbelievably desperate that I could barely watch. There is no dignity in Elba’s performance, and nothing mysterious or threatening about him. It’s not just 2019 Macavity that hurts this movie though, it’s how Macavity changes a massive part of the story with his nonsense, but I’m saving that for last because it’s a big one and I hate it!

Victoria is basically really bland. There was absolutely no reason to try and make this from her perspective. Like Webber and Hooper say they wanted her to serve as the character we see the world through but she’s bland, uninteresting, and just very boring. I understand their reasoning for making her the lead, as Victoria is a very recognizable character and easy to follow in dark lighting and crowded dancing, but she just simply exists to stare in wonder and ask questions that are answered in songs that she will stare in wonder over. If they wanted to have the audience experience the world through a character they probably should have gone with Munkustrap or something considering he’s narrating a majority of the film and knows what’s going on and can explain things a little better. He’s also a stronger character. Victoria is boasted to be this strong but shy little thing who approaches this new world with curiosity and hope and she’s really not. She doesn’t really get the chance to do or say anything that would help with the plot. she barely speaks to anyone but munk or misto, and it is very much a downgrade from her stage counterpart. Frankie Hayward is a very pretty dancer, but she’s not given much to work with and I found myself not caring in the slightest what she was up to.

This also leads into Beautiful Ghosts, which I posted about before so I’ll just leave this here and move on because I’ve said all I can say and I have more important things to talk about regarding Grizabella. to summarize, I was right and the song sucked.

The dancing is lamentable mess as well. God I sometimes forgot they were dancing. They are moving, but it’s not dancing. I would say only Les Twins and Jaih Bote were the clear dancers because they were pretty much the only ones allowed to put their own personal spins on the choreography. I’ve said it so many times and I will say it again Andy Blankenbluer is a fucking awful choreographer. His work is claustrophobic and ugly to look at. You lose the person in the movement but in the sense that you really don’t care if you see them again. Blankenbluer has stated so many times he feels as though audiences don’t have the attention spans for long dances sequences anymore and want more than one thing to see, but for the love of god could you give us something to look at? The dances are quick, ugly, and the moves are put down before they can make a good impression. He has no understanding of how to define a character through movement, which makes telling everyone apart very difficult, especially since the designs are already so unrecognizale. His work was  atrocious in the 2016 Cats Revival, but at least he had Gillian Lynne’s original choreography to lean on. Without the backing of better choreographers, his work is downright forgettable. 

Now the Big One, the inexcusable and awful part that I hate hate hate: Grizabella.

God I was rooting for her we were all rooting for her. Remember how in the 98 film she’s this broken down, cast aside, character barely hanging by a thread? Yeah in this she not only is given a throw away past where she chooses to side with Macavity for some unknown reason, but she’s chosen as a last resort. Yeah. Remember how I said Macavity’s plot paves the way for the mishandling of a beloved and tragic character. This is it. After Macavity steals literally everyone who is competing for rebirth, after Old D is returned, the Jellicles realize they have no one to choose from for rebirth. Victoria goes outside, brings Grizabella in, they sing memory, and she gets chosen. It is framed in a way that the cats all realize how badly she has it, but oh my god does it come off as heartless, careless and pis aller. Old D has no interaction with Grizabella until this point. The Jellicles don’t really interact with her unless to shoo her away. She is basically a background character for the whole movie. Giving her a past with Macavity was pointless. It never comes up. Macavity never sees her in the film. It’s never stated why she chose him or what she did with him. There is not a shred of dignity in Hudson’s performance, and I fully attribute that to Hooper making all his actors sing on set. Grizabella comes off as pitiable, but not enough to want to see her be reborn. It was downright heartless.

OVERALL!!

I give this movie a 6/10 stars. When they are doing Cats, it’s pretty enjoyable. Not everything I wanted, and some things I genuinely didn’t fucking ask for, but overall it is not as big of a problem as I thought it was going to be. I think if you’re apprehensive or angry about the film, I think you should give it a watch and you’ll either like it or you won’t. 

you should definitely not expect the 98 version, because no version will ever be that perfect, but go in with an open mind and give it a chance.