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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗵𝗼𝘀𝘁 || dirk brûlée x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: in front of the cameras, he’s the charismatic host of variety talk show Everything At Once. but when the cameras aren’t rolling and the stage lights go dark, he’s the biggest diva on daytime TV and you’re the poor unfortunate soul who has to direct him. but maybe there’s more to Dirk, hiding behind the glitz and glam and questionable facial hair.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: a bit under 9k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: smut (semi-public bathroom sex, oral f receiving, kinda overstimulation?, touch of praise kink), enemies to (almost) friends to lovers, references to alcoholism and addiction, hurt/comfort kinda?, a decent dose of angst, negative self-talk/anxiety, brief reference to potential self-injury, unnecessary hatred of the cw (just kidding it’s very necessary), sports references almost no one will get, fluffy ending because I couldn’t help myself

a/n: before you say to yourself “who the fuck is this character, I haven’t seen this movie” it’s actually not from a movie, it’s from this very chaotic music video by the band travis! I just kinda ran with it and made my own characterisation and random ideas about this person and his show and made a fic that literally nobody wanted or asked for, so... enjoy!

You had to give him credit: when he came out at the beginning of his show, even you almost believed in the persona he put on.

Energetic, bubbly, friendly— when the announcer/emcee introduced him, he ran out through the crowd of children and brought more zeal to the stage than all of them combined. Him and those outrageously tight pants.

But you remembered what he was like only a few minutes ago, just backstage right before another taping began.

“Seriously, I asked for this at least an hour ago!” Dirk snapped at the PA who handed him the whiskey glass of club soda, a straw cut to be exactly five inches poking out of it and rolling around the rim as the host moved his arms while he spoke dramatically. When he finally took a sip after the cowering assistant had run off with his tail between his legs, Dirk grimaced under that god-awful moustache of his. "And it's flat! There’s hardly any bubbles! It's not even club soda anymore, it's just… club!"

By now, after seven months on Dirk's show, you were used to his antics, though; which is why you approached him casually while others were turning and running to get the hell out of his way.

"It's gonna be camera 4 on you when you come out so give it a little point,” you reminded him, watching him nod as he sipped his ‘club’, “and then we switch to camera 1 for the intro, 2 and 3 for the interviews. First guest is that Lithuanian hip-hop group I told you about—”

“Mhm,” he hummed.

“Second guest is a drag queen named Lady Problems,” you continued, ignoring a stylist who quickly dashed up to Dirk and applied powder to his face for a moment before leaving as suddenly as she came. “And, your third guest is a man dressed as a giant soft serve ice cream cone, with a toy gun that, when fired, reveals a little flag that says ‘BANG!’,” you repeated, doing your best not to sound exasperated.

Dirk stopped drinking to give you a thoughtful look. “Could we get the gun to shoot confetti as well?”

You couldn’t help but sigh. “Um, I’ll talk to props.”

You heard the music outside get louder, the hype guy audible from onstage as he got the kids excited and energized for the taping. “The show’s just about to start, are you ready?” you heard his voice boom, followed by a wave of cheers.

“You’re good to go?” you asked Dirk, who gave you a little nod as if to say ‘of course I am.’

He handed you his empty glass and straw, even though it was definitely not your responsibility to take care of that, as he closed his eyes and hung his head down, taking a deep breath.

You were one of only a few people who ever saw him in this state; in his little ritual. After the deep breath he took another one through his teeth, and then a few quick ones, in and out rapidly. He shook out his arms and jumped on the balls of his feet slightly, shaking his head around as if his hair hadn’t just been meticulously styled.

“Top of the ninth, bases loaded,” he mumbled to himself, “they’re all waiting. They love you, and you’re gonna show them why…”

You quietly slipped back into the dark to toss his glass away and take your place at the control panel, turning on your headset and hearing the rest of his psych-up speech through your feed to his mic.

“You’re a winner. Huh? You’re a winner.”

Whatever his little mantra was all about, you couldn’t deny that it worked— because when you watched the lights come up on the monitor, when you watched him run through the sparkly plastic streamers and into the aisle of the child-filled audience, he was like an entirely different person. Dancing, high-fiving, smiling and laughing and encouraging the applause that nearly overwhelmed the studio mics.

It was only your first year as the director of Everything At Once. The director of seasons one through four had recently departed due to “creative differences” (read: got tired of Dirk’s shit) and you were brought on as a last-minute sub-in for season five. It was a rocky start; you hadn’t been given much time to prepare since tapings were set to begin only a few weeks after the previous director walked off, so you’d had to binge all four seasons over a few nights and tried to figure out how to stay true to form while also, hopefully, making a show you didn’t hate.

You’d never seen the show before then because you weren’t a child, or a stay-at-home parent taking care of one… and it seemed like those demographics made up the show’s entire audience. You didn’t really ‘get’ it when you first watched it; maybe you still didn’t, even after your first year running the place.

Most daytime talk shows didn’t even have directors. But Everything At Once was a very unique combination of reality and scripted, something between variety and interview and full-blown acid trip. Some of the interviews were entirely staged, and not in a ‘hey, it’s Hollywood, everything’s staged’ sort of way but specifically for intentional comedic effect… like the time one of the show’s writers did an interview in character as the man depicted in The Scream by Edvard Munch, who had recently come to life from his painting and was promoting his book on anxiety. Dirk seemed to have a real taste for satire, which you thought might be lost on the primarily-elementary-aged audience.

Dirk also seemed to have a real taste for throwing fits just to get attention; it was always something with him, like his club soda. Or his outfits. Or a perceived slight by some random staff member who suddenly needed to be fired at once. In your admittedly-limited experience in television, he was the biggest diva you ever worked with.

The crew didn’t secretly call him Dirk the Jerk for nothing. Or Dirk the Douchebag. Or Dirk the Insufferable Self-Possessed Tyrant Who Could Go Jump Up His Own Ass and Die For All I Care, which didn’t quite roll off the tongue but was still just as popular.

For example, the way he acted when the taping stopped for a break and you had him look over the playback for the first segment with you.

“So, do you think we should edit out the question about—?” you started to ask, but he cut you off as he leaned in close to the screen.

“Oh god, my hair looks awful!” he yelped. “Why is it... green? Doesn’t it look a bit green to you? It’s not going to look like that on air, right? Is that how it really looks?”

“Dirk, slow down,” you frowned. “We’re going to color-correct everything, I’m just asking about the actual content of the interview.”

He looked at you like you were talking in an alien language. Even worse, you were talking in ‘things Dirk doesn’t care about’ which meant it went in one ear and out the other, if that.

“But yes, it does look awful in real life,” you answered coldly.

He scowled at you but began looking around for a mirror— and when he couldn’t find one, he grabbed a shiny platter from the craft services table and dumped all the food off of it to hold it up and examine his hair in the warped reflection. “Oh god,” he groaned as he turned his head back and forth, lifting strands of caramel-blonde hair to look at closer, ignoring the protests of irritated caterers nearby as you shrugged at them, “I need to see my hair colourist before tomorrow’s taping.”

“No, you can’t, you promised you would help me fill out the For Your Consideration paperwork,” you reminded him.

“The what?” he mumbled, clearly not paying attention.

“The Daytime Emmys! We have to submit the show for consideration!”

He rolled his eyes. “Can’t you do that yourself?”

“You’re an Executive Producer,” you reminded him with crossed arms; it was pretty much an open secret that he only carried that title because of his financing of the show, rather than any creative input or responsibilities. He seemed to only want to produce the show during those times that he randomly decided to make some insane demand and shout ‘you have to do it, I’m an executive producer!’

But before that could be resolved, he had to go back out to keep taping and continue onto the next interview. Since the first segment had gone smoothly with no major spanners in the works, you let yourself actually watch the show a bit now instead of just waiting to bark orders in case of a disaster. You hadn’t been focusing on the first part of the conversation, so you didn’t know how they’d gotten on the topic, but apparently it was something about bad habits and guilty pleasures.

“I think I have somewhat of an addictive personality,” Lady Problems explained to Dirk as you watched on the camera 2 monitor. You moved your gaze to the camera 3 monitor to see his reaction.

“And what does that mean for you?” Dirk asked, narrowing his eyes and resting his chin on his fist.

"I… well, I’ll admit it: I like to eat paper,” she answered, and the audience laughed, but Dirk just seemed intrigued.

"Ooh… what kind of paper?"

"I think my favorite is college-ruled. I like the taste of the little blue lines. I can put down a spiral-bound notebook in an afternoon if nobody's watching," she giggled, and the child audience seemed to get a real kick out of that even though all the adult crew seemed beyond confused.

“Everyone has their vice, right?” the sound mixer shrugged as he glanced to his partner at the lighting controls.

“What do you think Dirk’s is?” the lighting guy returned playfully. “Other than his goddamn club sodas. It’s probably hooking up with all those single moms who tag him in thirsty tweets, right?”

“Whatever it is now, I know what it used to be,” the first mumbled, wiping under his nose suggestively. You frowned to see them discussing something so private about Dirk like it was a joke. They were far from the first to spread rumors about his history with drugs— the public certainly like to speculate about it, considering his show was so surreal and sometimes felt it could only come from the mind of someone under the influence— but Dirk’s sobriety was not something you wanted people to feel comfortable joking about. You didn’t have time to admonish them now, though.

When the taping wrapped, you found Dirk backstage tapping his foot impatiently.

“Your club soda, sir,” a meek assistant offered him a glass— and immediately you sighed because you saw there wasn’t a straw in it.

“Where’s the straw?” Dirk protested immediately, making the assistant stammer nervously.

“Wh-what?”

“I need a straw to drink this!” he explained, shoving the drink back into the assistant’s chest. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go back and get me a new one with a straw!”

As they dashed away, he saw you and seemed almost irritated to see you already.

"What's up with the PAs lately, are they all brand new or something?" Dirk frowned.

No, they're just logical people who think you're a grown man fully capable of drinking directly out of glasses. "No," you spoke plainly.

"Whatever, at least the taping went decently well…" he shrugged.

"Yeah, I thought it was pretty good stuff; you and Lady Problems had good chemistry," you remembered, and Dirk chuckled a little.

"Yeah, she seemed to agree, considering she flagged me down in the hallway and offered to take me out for drinks,” Dirk explained. “Decided just to tell her I’m straight and not that I’m an alcoholic.”

Well, you couldn’t blame a girl for trying. Or a guy dressed as a girl. Dirk was certainly… flamboyant; and there were plenty of rumors about that, too. Sometimes your friends would ask what Dirk Brûlée was ‘actually like’, which you never answered honestly. And they’d ask about his sexuality, and you’d be honest about that by saying you really had no idea. You’d never seen him with a girlfriend or a boyfriend or anything in between. At best, he was too focused on the show to worry about romance; at worst, he was too focused on himself. And since it was his show, and he was the host, those two things sort of blended together.

But then again, it was always the best and the worst with Dirk.

“We need to get better guests,” he grumbled, “they can’t all be experimental— when are we gonna get somebody that will actually attract new viewers?”

“When we get enough new viewers to get new sponsors to get a new budget to get new guests,” you answered sardonically.

“Fair enough, but I’m going to call in some favors and see if I can get Christina Aguilera,” he decided.

“Wh— can you get her?!” you choked.

“Maybe, if I threaten to start telling everyone that she’s actually a massive bit—”

“Dirk Brûlée!” a kid from the audience of today’s taping called out from across the hall, barreling towards him so fast that his light-up sneakers looked like one erratic blur.

“Hi!” Dirk turned and greeted, instantly switching back into his TV persona, kneeling down and chuckling in surprise when the kid gave him a sudden hug. “I like your sneakers, do those come in adult sizes?” he asked the kid, who just laughed in response even though you were sure the question was completely serious.

“I watch your show every day, I run home from school to get to the TV in time,” the child explained as Dirk listened thoughtfully. “I only don’t watch it on the days that my brother gets there first and watches his show instead,” he continued with a frown.

“Yes, brothers can be annoying like that sometimes,” Dirk agreed. “But thank you for watching when you can, I’m glad you could be here today.”

“Me too, I thought maybe you could sign my lunchbox,” the kid requested, suddenly getting a bit shy as they presented an aluminum box by the handle, the side decorated with the show’s boisterous logo and an image of Dirk dancing in perhaps his signature look, the red leather jacket. ‘Red’ alone didn’t quite do the color justice: you liked to call it ‘radioactive cherry.’

“Yeah, of course,” Dirk agreed as he took the box with one hand and pulled a gold metallic Sharpie from his back pocket with the other. Dirk was strongly morally opposed to black Sharpies for autographs.

“I wanna be on TV when I grow up,” the kid added while Dirk uncapped his marker.

“Yeah? What’s your name?” Dirk asked.

“Archer.”

“Archer, that’s a good TV name,” Dirk nodded, “but an even better name for an archer, don’t you think?”

The kid laughed and watched Dirk write a little message on the lunchbox, thanking him sheepishly when Dirk handed it back and ruffled the child’s hair quickly before waving goodbye. You only caught a glimpse of what Dirk had written, but it made you snort out a small laugh.

Archer—

Don’t go into TV.

Dirk

His signature was pretty different from the scribbles of most celebrities: instead he wrote his name in massive bubble letters, and you were impressed with how good he was at cranking out these detailed signatures in just a few seconds.

The PA took the kid’s hand and escorted them away back to the stage exit as Dirk stood up and checked to make sure he hadn’t creased his trainers from kneeling like that.

“That’s sweet of you, to keep faking it for the kids,” you noted sarcastically. “Wouldn’t want them to see the real Dirk, huh?”

He scoffed, and for one moment you thought you caught a fleeting glimpse of a real vulnerability. It made you regret the dig for a second. But then he was back to his critical self: “You’d know all about faking it, wouldn’t you? How’s your boyfriend by the way?”

You just rolled your eyes, but the truth was he’d dumped you a couple weeks ago for the star of the show he was directing; of course, that was a primetime drama, so he thought he was ‘above’ you and your daytime reality now. But does it even count as primetime if it’s The CW?

As Dirk was escorted away to the wardrobe area to get changed out of his fantastical get-up, and you returned to your office for a quick moment of quiet before you were due in the editing bay to get some basic notes on today’s taping.

When you stopped by Dirk’s trailer later that evening, you noticed he had redecorated since the last time you had been in here: the massive, bedazzled flamingo painting was gone and replaced by a portrait of a beautiful, crying woman with clown paint on her face. His big leather chair was on the other side of the room and there was a new ornate rug on the floor.

Everything had been rearranged specifically to accommodate an area in one corner where he was currently stretching on a yoga mat, still wearing some sort of moisturizing face mask that left everything but his eyes and lips covered with matcha-green fabric.

“Take that off, Dirk, you look insane,” you frowned as you shut the door behind yourself.

“Alright, I’ll take it off, but it’s not going to help,” he winked as he finished his downward dog and got up off the mat, walking to his vanity where he peeled off the mask and rubbed the remaining serum into his skin. “What did you need?”

“For Your Consideration,” you reminded him.

“What?” he mumbled, staring in the mirror still and barely seeming to notice you standing off to his side.

“The Emmys, Dirk, Jesus!”

“Is that an explanation and exclamation, or are you just listing your deities?” he smirked.

“I just need you to help me write a summary of the show’s thesis, essentially— like a mission statement, what we’re all about,” you continued. “I mean, I know I have my own ideas, but I’d feel weird submitting it before you gave it a quick review just to tell me if it’s what you’re going for. So, will you please think about how to explain this show in 200 words or less?”

He narrowed his eyes as if he were thinking, staring forward into the mirror, and you waited for his response semi-patiently. You couldn’t blame him for taking a while to ponder it, Everything At Once was not a concept that lent itself to concise summary.

“Do you think I should pierce my ears?” he finally spoke, turning his head back and forth to look at each ear as you groaned and rubbed your temples. “I think it would make me seem a bit more alternative— but that might mess with my family-friendly image, or whatever I have left of it after Twitter found out I’d checked into rehab.”

“God, Dirk, you’re so obsessed with this fake persona,” you groaned as you lifted your head from your hands. “Can’t you just get out of your own head and help me with this stupid paperwork? There’s stuff I need to fill out that I don’t know cause it’s my first year—”

“It’s not fake, okay?” he snapped, finally looking at you instead of the mirror. “It’s not fake, for the kids at least. I like the kids. It’s the adults I can’t stand.”

And so you understood that both versions of Dirk were the ‘real Dirk’, but in very different ways. It made you look at him differently when he arrived on-set the next morning ready for another taping. He was wearing a purple paisley button-up and matching purple trainers, with white jeans and a glittery gold belt. When he ran his hands over his face and smacked his cheeks a bit— a way to calm his nerves, maybe— you noticed that his nails were painted gold as well. It made you smile a bit to yourself. Is that all he really wanted? To make people smile?

You watched him wait for his name to be announced again, you saw him breathe— deep, then through his teeth, then fast.

“Top of the ninth, bases loaded…”

Maybe to some, a Daytime Emmy nomination isn’t a very big deal at all. And it wasn’t like you thought this was more important than anything else, in fact you were more than ready to lose to a more traditional program, but it was an acknowledgement of all your hard work as well as so much more than you expected from your first year in a new show.

You remembered the speech you gave to the crew your first day, about how this was going to be a transition and that even at their best, transitions are difficult. “This is the ‘99 Bulls, we’re in a rebuild right now,” you explained allegorically.

“That’s bullshit!” someone had called out from the back, making you terrified at first. “We were never the ‘98 Bulls!”

Some laughs and murmurs moved through the crew and you just did your best to take it in stride.

But look at you now… maybe this was your ‘92 Bulls moment, maybe you were about to win this and start getting recognition every year. Or maybe you were just a silly TV show that got an unexpected nomination and this would end up only being an excuse to dress up and go to a fancy dinner and maybe bump into a few people much more important than yourself.

Regardless, you still screamed when you opened the letter from the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences and saw that Everything At Once had been nominated for ‘Outstanding Talk Show— Entertainment.’

Dirk was not nominated for 'Outstanding Talk Show Host’, specifically, and you honestly thought it was a pretty major snub. He made the show, even if he also made you a little insane in the process. Thankfully he didn’t throw a tantrum about it, he actually just focused on being proud of the crew and even paid you back for the massive cake you ordered for everybody to celebrate.

But he also left the party early. Can’t win ‘em all; it’s still Dirk, and god knows he had a thousand hair and facial appointments between now and the awards telecast.

You, admittedly, did have a few of your own as well. You weren’t the face of the show so it didn’t matter nearly as much, but a stylist friend of yours offered to get you something amazing to wear and you couldn’t say no to that.

Dressed to the nines, decked out in jewelry you had to remember to return at the end of the night, and wearing false lashes for the first time in years, you stepped out of your car and into the check-in, hoping to suppress your nerves as you merged into the crowded lobby and caught a glimpse of the red carpet just outside. It was populated mostly with soap opera stars and talk show hosts, so you didn’t really recognize most of them… until you saw Dirk there, apparently just having finished a quick walk as he stepped away from the cameras and caught sight of you inside the main area.

Of course he couldn’t just wear a black tux like everybody else, which is why his jacket was coated in some sort of extra-sparkly black glitter, and his bowtie had little bits of mirror on it like a disco ball. Incredibly audacious for most, but still a bit muted for him since it wasn’t bursting with neon colors.

But then you caught a glimpse of his shoes— velvet slippers embroidered over every inch with technicolor, psychedelic patterns— and you smiled a bit to yourself.

You felt oddly nervous when you caught him appraising you with a lingering stare; it almost looked like he was checking you out, but you couldn’t even be mad about it since you’d spent so much money and time to look this good.

“Weird to see me without a headset on?” you prompted when he stepped up to you but just kept staring at you in silence.

“Yeah, you look… nice,” Dirk decided.

“Oh, thanks,” you nodded.

“Well, you look beautiful, actually,” he changed his mind, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek for a second.

“O-oh… thanks,” you repeated awkwardly. “You look good, too. I kinda miss the tight jeans, though.”

He chuckled. “I don’t.”

Fair enough.

“Hey, I thought you would bring your boyfriend,” Dirk noticed.

“We, um, broke up, actually…”

“Oh, sorry,” he winced. “When?”

“Before we got nominated.”

Dirk seemed embarrassed when he noticed how long ago that must’ve been. “Shit. I don’t ask you about yourself very often, do I?”

“No, you usually just ask me questions about yourself,” you chuckled.

“Right, yeah, that sounds like me,” he agreed. “I never did like that boyfriend, by the way.”

Not that Dirk was exactly known for liking many people or anything.

“Seemed like a douche,” he continued with a shrug. “Takes one to know one.”

“Yeah, definitely,” you hummed. “His show wasn’t nominated for a primetime award, though. Because it’s The C-fucking-W.”

Dirk snorted out a little laugh, running one of his hands through his hair which made you notice the gold rings he had on a few fingers. “He didn’t get nominated because he’s not as good at his job as you are,” Dirk corrected.

You wanted to protest but decided to just accept the compliment with a little nod, just in time for the rest of the major executive crew to show up and greet you both as you all made your way to your table in the auditorium.

To be honest, the telecast for the Daytime Emmys wasn’t even that exciting; so you can imagine how boring it was to actually be there in person for every commercial break and awkward silence and out-of-context clip from a soap. Occasionally a presenter or a nominee would be someone you recognised and it was sort of eerie to see a celebrity you were aware of live, in the flesh. But then Aisha Tyler came out to present the category you’d been nominated for, and you were too nervous to even worry about being starstruck.

You were also too nervous to pick up on any of her opening remarks about the category and nominees until you realized she was about to announce a winner.

It won’t be us, obviously, you thought to yourself, smiling nervously when a fellow production team member squeezed you on the arm excitedly. You glanced across the table and caught Dirk compulsively chugging his entire club soda (through a straw, of course).

“And the Daytime Emmy Award for Outstanding Talk Show— Entertainment goes to…” Aisha smiled as she opened the envelope, though she smiled wider when she saw the name inside: “Everything At Once!”

The whole table jumped up, hugging each other; except you and Dirk, who gave each other an awkward glance and seemed to each independently decide that it was best not to hug each other.

You motioned for him to lead the way to the stage, and he nodded as he passed you and did just that, yourself and the rest of the crew running up behind him as he took the statuette from Aisha and gave her a cordial kiss on the cheek.

He took his place at the microphone as you and everyone else waited behind her, still hugging and mumbling your congratulations and disbelief to each other.

“I just want to thank the, uh, the Emmy voters,” Dirk began, and it didn’t feel nearly as rehearsed as you expected, “and our amazing crew, and our amazing viewers, and of course our fearless director—” he motioned to you, standing beside and behind him, which surprised you. “We just want to make a show that everyone can enjoy, that’s fun and light and maybe makes people feel a bit better or less alone, and I hope this award—” he lifted the Emmy briefly— “means that we’ve done that, thank you.”

The audience clapped as Dirk left the microphone and the crew followed him offstage in a celebratory parade.

The rest of the night was a blur, in fact basically the whole night was a blur, and soon enough you found yourself in a hotel suite with a glass of champagne in your hand, almost everyone from the show crammed together, clinking glasses, hugging each other.

A few headlines had already come out, shown on phone screens that were passed around the afterparty.

Surrealist Children’s Program ‘Everything At Once’ Takes Home Daytime Emmy Just One Season After Replacing Director

Dirk Brûlée Accepts ‘Best Talk Show, Entertainment’ Award

In Massive Victory for Dadaism, ‘Everything At Once’ Just Won An Emmy

And, in a slightly less journalistic take from Buzzfeed,

Emmy Winner Dirk Brûlée is Criminally Slept On, Here Are 27 Pictures to Make You Stan Him

You did feel a little rush of adrenaline each time you saw yourself in pictures of Dirk giving his speech: there was even one of the moment that he motioned to you and gave you props, and you stared at your own image wondering if you’d ever smiled that hard before.

You watched everyone else down their champagne and cocktails, laughing with each other with lots of hugs and pats on shoulders and backs, before your eyes settled on Dirk: alone in the corner, nursing his club soda through his exactly-five-inch straw.

This must be weird for him, you thought to yourself, setting your own glass down to go talk to him— but a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“Congrats!” Joan, one of the camera operators, beamed as she got your attention.

“Oh, thanks,” you nodded, “you too.”

“No, don’t congratulate me, this is your award!” she assured. “You direct all the episodes!”

“Yeah, but Dirk’s the host, and the EP,” you recalled.

“But everybody knows you earned this,” Joan explained, leaning in to speak a bit more inconspicuously. “Honestly, it was a crime that he gave the acceptance speech and didn’t even give you time at the mic. He doesn’t even do any work.”

Your mouth opened to defend him: you wanted to tell her that he did do a lot of work for the show, he was the entire creative mind behind it originally, and that he might not be the most active Executive Producer but even so he kept the show alive in more ways than one. You wanted to tell her that you wouldn’t have known what to say if he gave you time to speak, and that you thought the speech he gave was actually pretty much perfect.

But before you could do any of that, you caught a black, glittery blur dash through the room and out the door in the corner of your eye. You whipped your head around and started to push Joan away. “Sorry, we’ll talk later, okay?” you mumbled to her as you walked to the door, opening it and peering out into the hall; you just saw the back of him as he turned the corner, running his fingers through his hair as he kept walking speedily. “Dirk!” you called out, but he either didn’t hear you or didn’t care.

It was a struggle to keep up with him in your heels, which is why you actually didn’t, but you did manage to trail him at a decent distance as he rushed through the plushy carpeted hallways of the hotel, down some marble stairs, and into a men’s bathroom.

You considered stopping your chase— maybe he just needs to use the bathroom, right?— but decided to trust your gut that something was wrong. So, you carefully tip-toed up to the door and leaned your ear against it.

“You’re just a fucking imposter,” you heard his voice through the door, though it was muffled and echoing slightly over the tile in the bathroom. “You’re a fucking loser. Everyone hates you, can’t you see that? But nobody could hate you as much as yourself.”

Eyes wide and wet, you burst through the bathroom door and saw Dirk spin to face you from where he was bent slightly in front of the mirror, his hands gripping the marble counter so hard that his knuckles had gone white. He spoke your name in surprise as he saw you, standing up straighter to run his fingers through his hair exasperatedly.

“Dirk, hey,” you greeted nervously; Fuck, I didn’t actually figure out what to say when I got in here…

“You can go, I’ll be fine,” he dismissed flatly, “I’m not gonna go on a bender or— or hurt myself or anything. You’re not gonna lose your host.”

“Nobody hates you, Dirk,” you tried to soothe him, stepping just a bit closer, and he winced at the proof that you’d heard his meltdown.

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” he scoffed.

“You’re not a bullshitter, you’re real, Dirk. You’re exactly who you are. And yeah… some people think you’re an asshole, and sometimes you are an asshole, but they don’t get you. They don’t get your show. But I get it.”

He seemed to perk up a little at that, looking at you with bloodshot brown eyes.

“I think people see your show and assume it’s not meant to be taken seriously. But it is, isn’t it? You play this character, but you talk about things that really matter in ways that people can understand. You teach them things, sometimes without them ever realising it. It’s about fear, isn’t it? That’s where the name comes from, Everything At Once. Because you’re afraid of everything?”

He just stared back at you, mouth agape and eyes blinking rapidly. Had nobody really ever put that together? You thought it was sort of obvious.

When those eyes glanced down to your lips and back again, and again, and one more time, the concept of him kissing you was so foreign, so far from your mind, that you didn’t even think to consider that that’s what he might do. But it’s what he did, grabbing your face and kissing you suddenly— not quite rough, but definitely intense.

Your eyes shot wide open, staring forward at his face closer than you’d ever seen it, eyes shut tight and brow furrowed like he was focusing intently on something, on you. You could feel his moustache as his lips started to move against you, and for some reason that was what made you push him back gently with a little gasp. “Dirk, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you offered awkwardly.

“You just won an Emmy,” he reminded you, “live on national television. Your family’s seen it. Your old coworkers have seen it. Everyone who knew you in high school either saw it today or they’ll see it on Facebook tomorrow, and they’re gonna know that you’re successful now, and hot, and living your dream. They’re all gonna wish they were you.”

His words stirred something selfish and hungry and needy inside your chest, and you felt like you were running on pure instinct as you reached up and grabbed his glittery lapel; “Fuck it,” you snarled as you pulled him into another kiss, this one much less one-sided than the last as he grabbed your waist and hoisted you up onto the marble counter.

You were about to hook up with Dirk fucking Brûlée— your coworker, the host of the show you directed, the thorn in your side and the closest thing you’d ever had to a mortal enemy— in the men’s bathroom of the Pasadena Omni. And neither of you could blame it on alcohol, either.

You pushed his jacket off his shoulders and pulled open his bowtie while he felt you up through your dress, eventually reaching down to start pulling the long skirt up your legs.

If you were taking the time to judge yourself for any of this, you would’ve been embarrassed by the way you moaned into the kiss at the feeling of his hands on your thighs, moving higher until they gripped your hips under the heavy dress and started to tug your panties down. It sort of felt like a wake-up call that this was really happening, except that it just made you want this even more.

The kiss was more just the two of you breathing with each other now, your eyes opening to watch him look down while he slowly slid the black lace down your legs.

He purred a little as he maneuvered the panties around your heeled feet and tossed them aside, instantly kneeling down on the tile floor to kiss your legs eagerly. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he mumbled, and you laughed— actually laughed— because that was your first instinct. “Did nobody think to tell you before?” he noticed with a grin.

“I… yeah, I guess it never came up,” you agreed sheepishly, biting your lip as he kissed his way up higher and higher.

He roughly pulled your hips closer to the edge of the counter and to his face, grinning for a second and looking up at you as he dived in. His tongue pushed inside you right away, and felt your face heat up at the sensation of his moustache against your sensitive skin— one clear way to make sure you couldn't forget who this was between your legs.

“Oh god, fuck,” you moaned, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his hair. It was soft, which you’d hope since he spent so much time and money on it, but even still it surprised you as you tightened your hand into a fist and tugged on him accidentally. But it certainly didn’t slow him down, he just kept lapping and sucking like it was his life’s purpose.

Little groans from him were muffled inside you, his tongue sliding over places you hadn’t even realised were so sensitive; maybe they weren’t, before now.

And the gasp you let out when he sucked hard on your clit… it was a little embarrassing, though not nearly as much as you throwing your head back so hard that it slammed into the mirror behind you with a dull thud.

“Are you okay?” Dirk asked with a smile, pulling back to look up at you.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just— keep going, please,” you breathed, and he returned to the pattern he’d found that made your legs quiver around his head.

“You taste fucking delicious, by the way,” he informed you in a deeper voice when he stopped for a brief moment.

“Oh, thanks,” you mumbled nervously.

“You’re not good at taking compliments,” he noticed with a grin.

“Well, I’m not used to them,” you defended, “especially in… times like this. And I’m sort of distracted, currently.”

“Get used to it,” he instructed. “I like the taste of your cunt.”

“I like the way you taste my cunt,” you blurted out in reply, seeming to surprise and amuse him for a moment before he got back to just that, closing his eyes and wrinkling his brow as he ate you fiercely. His fingers dug into your thighs and you secretly hoped from bruises in the shape of his hands, to remind you how lovely they are.

But then those fingers moved, at least the ones on his left hand, which rubbed your leg for a moment before reaching up to prod two fingers at your entrance and carefully slide them in alongside where he was suckling on your clit.

“God,” you choked, whimpering when he curled the fingers right against your spot, your hips starting to rock against his movements as he smiled slightly against you.

For as long as you could keep your eyes open, you looked down at him and watched the way his face reacted to every pulse of your walls, the way he seemed just as lost in pleasure as you were even though you had it on good authority you were getting more out of this than he was. You couldn’t keep your eyes open much longer, though, as they fluttered shut and your head fell back when you felt a deep pressure forming inside you.

“Dirk, I— fuck, don’t stop, I’m gonna come,” you sighed.

But this was still Dirk, and he always had to do the opposite of whatever you said, which is why he stopped instantly and stood up, starting to open his belt and trousers. “Not yet,” he corrected, “you’re not gonna come until I’m inside you.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that— it caught you off-guard in the best way— so you just nodded in agreement, finding your legs spreading even wider without you intending for it to happen.

“I think it’s gonna be a while before I get the smell of you out of my moustache,” he admitted with a chuckle as he got his belt open and started to unbutton his fly.

“Good reason to shave the damn thing off,” you smirked.

“No, I don’t think I could part with it,” he answered. “The scent or the ‘stache, I mean.”

He quickly pulled his cock out and stepped closer to you; kinda made sense that he was big, considering his attitude. And the way he looked in those tight jeans. But it still made you gasp slightly and bite your lip, which made him smile in turn.

When he kissed you again, the taste of yourself coating his tongue and now yours, you felt him press his cock against you and tease you for a moment, rubbing on your clit for a while instead of just pushing inside. “Please,” you whined against his lip, “god, I just need you to fuck me.”

Not one to say no to that, he snapped his hips forward and groaned deeply as he filled you, letting his head fall onto your shoulder and breathing heavily against your neck while you arched your back.

He started moving right away even though you were still processing how it felt to be full to the brim like this, not nearly as rushed and desperate as he could’ve been considering the circumstances. No, it wasn’t quite slow, either, but it was deliberate, and measured, like he was trying to savor it.

With what little control you felt you had over your body, you fumbled with the buttons of his shirt until you had enough of an opening to rub his chest under it. He smelled really good this up-close, even if his cologne was a bit on the aggressive side, and his skin was so hot to the touch that you wondered how he wasn’t dripping with sweat.

You could see a few freckles on his neck and shoulder, along with the chest chair starting to peek out from behind the buttons. Now was not the time for it, but you really wanted to see more of this man if you got the chance.

“Did you ever think about this, before?” he asked you under his breath, right against your ear. “Did you ever think about how I’d fuck you?”

“Honestly?” you hummed. “No… I didn’t. But now all I’m ever gonna think about is the way you fuck me.”

He grinned and moved a bit faster, biting playfully at your neck. “I thought about it,” he admitted. “Just a few times. I figured it would be nice to see you finally relax and… enjoy yourself. Thought I wouldn’t mind being the one to make you do it.”

‘Enjoying yourself’ was a bit of an understatement considering you were so delirious already that you could barely keep track of this conversation. He’d gotten you so fucking close before and his cock was thrusting right into every spot his fingers and tongue had just awakened.

“You’re close again already, aren’t you?” he noticed with a smirk, and you nodded breathlessly.

“Your cock,” you groaned. You’d meant to finish that with ‘feels so good’ or something like that, but it didn’t end up coming out since you lost your train of thought and just ended up moaning loudly instead.

“Yeah?” he prompted playfully. “What about it?”

“S’big,” you slurred, and he laughed again before leaning in to kiss you, not quite as hurried as before though still quite hungry, especially when he put his hand on the back of your neck and held you close. “Fuck,” you hissed into it, muffled by his lips, and he nodded encouragingly as it became obvious that you were falling past the point of no return, and rather suddenly at that.

He sped up in perfect time with the pressure building in your core, your legs shaking a little where they had wrapped around his waist.

"Ohh, fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna— fuck," you shivered and gasped into his kiss, feeling him pull you in closer and hug you tighter as it started to wash over you. "Oh god, Dirk, yes!"

Your eyes shut so tight that you saw blurry purple spots amongst the black, little shocks running up your back until you had to bite down on your lip or you thought you might say something you’d regret later.

He fucked you through it until the last wave subsided. You relaxed and sighed and melted into his arms, at which point he made a noise almost like a laugh, but it wasn't mocking; more like awe, really. "You sound so perfect when you come," he informed you through a beaming smile. "Let's hear it again, shall we?"

It took everything in you to bite back a scream when he reached down and rubbed his thumb over your clit quickly. You writhed and bit down on your lip until it was sore, overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking into you while the slightly-rough pad of his thumb stroked in rapid circles.

You found your hands reaching all over the place, trying to find purchase with anything to grab onto— you settled with your left on the counter beneath you and the right digging into his shoulder through the shirt, your eyes meeting his as he gave you a prideful, heavy-lidded stare.

“You can give me one more, right? You’re squeezing me so tight, I know you’re gonna come again, just relax and let it happen.”

But how could you relax when your entire body was alight with energy, until your toes and fingertips were tingling with an addictive numbness? It was anything but relaxing when the second orgasm hit you like a goddamn freight train. Your moans were loud enough to echo around the bathroom, silenced only by a bruising kiss from Dirk who swallowed every noise you made like nothing was more precious. He mumbled little praises into it, things you were too far gone to really comprehend at the time.

Suddenly, he pulled out and pulled you off the counter, flipping you to bend over it instead and pulling your head back by your hair as he slipped back in quickly.

“Look in the mirror,” he instructed lowly as he turned your head to your own reflection. “Look how fucking gorgeous you look taking my dick.”

You weren’t sure about gorgeous, but definitely dishevelled. But you could see what he might appreciate about it, since you caught yourself biting your lip at the way he looked with his hair falling into his face, with a thin layer of sweat on his forehead as well as the part of his chest exposed by the unbuttoned shirt and dangling bowtie.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he breathed, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. But you did, and it made your knees a little weak… though you could just blame it on balancing on the heels. He kissed your neck with an open mouth and desperation all but dripping off of him, grazing his teeth over your pulse occasionally.

The brief break as he had switched your position hadn’t done that much to give your body time to recover from every stimulation he was assaulting you with; it meant you had to focus with all your might on not being too loud, because even then you could still hear your own moans ringing in your ears.

Something about this angle made him go even deeper inside you until you couldn’t believe the incoherent babbling that was coming out of your mouth.

“It’s so good, fuck, baby, it’s so good,” you sobbed, feeling your knees almost buckle against before he thankfully held your hips up at the last moment. Of everything you’d said, and done, and experienced tonight, something about calling Dirk ‘baby’ was the most jarring. It was something you never, ever thought you’d do; and up until now, you had assumed that you thought all of this was something you’d never ever do, but apparently you had your suspicions from the beginning.

But he seemed to enjoy it, since he stood up straight to start fucking into you with a bit more force and a lot more deep moans coming out of his mouth. "Where should I come?" he asked roughly. A fairly simple question, but one that somehow turned you on even more.

"Inside me," you moaned, "fuck, I want you to come inside me."

"God, yes," he groaned through clenched teeth. "Gonna make you so fuckin' full, gonna put my come so deep in you…"

Even now, his thrusts weren't as fast as you would've expected knowing he was close— faster than before but still shockingly patient, with moments in between where he just stayed buried inside you as deep as he could. "I want it, oh god, I want your come— please," you whimpered.

He chuckled when you started to rock back against him, meeting his thrusts and panting loudly. “Damn, you want it that bad?”

“Yes, fuck,” you hissed, too far gone to question your own desperation, “fucking come in me, please, please—”

“I will, fuck, I’m close, oh fuck—!” he hissed, holding your hips and speeding up until he choked on a groan and tossed his head back, a warmth starting to fill you as you sighed and relaxed against the counter beneath you.

He gave a few more weak thrusts as the last few pumps of his seed spilled inside you, your own walls flexing a few times even though you were clearly exhausted. When he started to move to pull out, you lifted one of your legs between his to press your heel into his butt and keep him from stepping away.

“You want to keep me warm a bit longer?” he noticed with a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah,” you hummed, “if you don’t mind.”

“No, definitely not,” he smiled, “but, you know, it slightly increases our odds of getting caught in here…”

“Oh, right,” you remembered, a little dose of reality that made you blink the fog away. “Yeah, that would be a less flattering headline to see tomorrow…”

You lowered your leg and he slowly pulled out: “Stay there,” he instructed softly as he found your discarded panties and helped you step back into them, dragging them back up your legs which made you shiver slightly until you stood up and put them back on the rest of the way yourself. He, meanwhile, shoved his cock back into his trousers and zipped them back off before grabbing his jacket from the floor as well and dusting it off quickly before slipping it back on.

“How do I look?” you asked as you let your skirt roll back down to the floor and checked your makeup and hair in the mirror, seeing him standing behind you and buttoning his shirt up again.

“Well, I think you look even better than before, but I might be a bit biased cause I’m thinking about my come dripping down your legs all night,” he winked.

You glanced down nervously and noticed that his tie was still a little crooked, so you reached up to adjust it for him. “There,” you mumbled quietly as you let go of it, resting your hands on his chest for a moment. He looked down at you, you looked up at him, and you could hardly believe that this had all happened— but even more than that, you couldn’t believe how good it felt, how you didn’t find guilt and regret in your stomach but a warm, pleasant feeling like having a new crush.

“We should do this again sometime,” he offered after a brief silence, making you laugh.

“Maybe if we get nominated again next year,” you winked.

And you did get nominated again next year, although you and Dirk did ‘that’ again a lot more before then. In fact, when you returned to the Daytime Emmy Awards, you arrived not only as a nominee for Everything At Once but also as Dirk Brûlée’s date. And you arrived on stage later in the ceremony as a two-time Emmy winner… but you left the stage after his speech as Dirk Brûlée’s fiancée.

#me @ myself: hey um wtf is this #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel brühl x reader #im not gonna fucking tag it as dirk brulee i swear to god #...ah fuck it #dirk brulee x reader #dirk brûlée x reader

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take-taker-taken · 2 years ago

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@heartbreakertaker Plot is not my strong point, so I’ve gone for a semi-AU, short, one shot, fluffy, smutty kinda sorta thing…

**TW for gun play**

“I thought you liked the movie,” Shawn says as he watches his boyfriend glumly turning the prop police badge over and over in his fingers.

“I do like it,” Taker replies and then adds with a grimace, “Doesn’t mean I want to act the damn thing out.”

The blonde wanders over to where Taker is sat glaring at a bundle of clothes and a fake gun and rests a hand on his shoulder. “Everyone’s doing something - I’m doing that Taxi Driver bit, Hunter’s painting his face blue and hey, Kurt has to watch Christy fake an orgasm - I’d say you’ve got the coolest thing out of everyone.”

“I can’t do it. I’m just gonna end up making an ass of myself, I know it.”

Shawn tries not to smile because Taker is actually pouting and that’s not something that happens very often and means sensitivity is required - and he can definitely do sensitive. He leans down and kisses the big man’s temple. “Just treat it like a promo.”

“Promos are different,” Taker sulks. “I don’t have to learn exact words for promos.”

Shawn reaches across and picks up the prop revolver, spinning it around on his finger by the trigger guard. “You can practice your lines on me, if you like.”

Taker looks up, hopeful. “Really? You promise not to laugh?”

“Cross my heart,” Shawn replies with a smile and hands him the gun, pleased that he seems to have lightened the mood. “Where do you want me?”

Taker looks around the room, trying to decide what will work best. “Down there,” he says after a moment, gesturing with the gun to the floor at the side of the couch. “The other guy is on the floor in the scene when Harry faces him down.”

Shawn is momentarily distracted by the thought that Taker looks insanely hot right now in jeans and a tank top, holding a gun on him but says nothing and just scoots down to the floor as directed. They’ve watched Dirty Harry together enough times that he knows the scene well and so adopts an exhausted pose, leaning against the couch and looks up at Mark.

“Hey, aren’t I supposed to have a gun, too?”

Taker smirks and gives a small shrug. “Well, they only gave me the one… looks like you’ll have to be down there all defenceless.”

Shawn feels another little thrill zing through him at the words and then cheekily blows a kiss. “Oh, fine. Go for it, babe.”

Taker looks away for a moment as he tries to channel his inner Eastwood and then casts a steely gaze down at the blonde, levelling the gun at his head. It would feel all kinds of wrong if the weapon were real but knowing it’s a prop means that he feels able to wield it without compunction. He takes a deep breath and then lets the words he’s heard countless times trip off his tongue…

“You’re thinking, “Did he fire six shots or only five?” Now to tell you the truth, I’ve forgotten myself in all this excitement. But being this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world and will blow your head clean off, you’ve gotta ask yourself a question: “Do I feel lucky?”” Taker gives the smallest tilt of his head and then delivers the iconic words, “Well, do ya, punk?”

The atmosphere in the room once he’s finished speaking can only be described as electric and Shawn’s mind is racing as he stares up, utterly captivated by the deliciously intimidating man above him. The spell is mostly broken, however, when Taker frowns in confusion and takes a small step forward.

“Uhh, are you OK?”

“Kiss me?” Shawn’s voice is small, pleading.

Taker might not always be the fastest when it comes to reading emotions but it doesn’t take him long this time to add two and two and he can’t help the little rush of predatory power that the realisation gives him. Nevertheless, he doesn’t want to freak out his boyfriend so he says quietly, “Want me to put the gun down?”

Wide eyed, Shawn shakes his head fiercely. “Nuh uh.”

That’s all it takes and Mark swoops down and grabs the blonde by the front of his shirt, dragging him to his feet. “Get your ass up here,” Taker grinds out and then slams him against the nearest wall. He presses the barrel of the gun into Shawn’s neck, using it to force his head back and then he crushes his lips to the smaller man’s mouth; hard and urgent. His free hand creeps into Shawn’s hair, twisting it around his fist and pulling until he mewls to Taker’s satisfaction and bucks against him. Eventually, they’re forced to break for air and Taker looks down into pupils blown so wide he can barely make out any blue.

Shawn’s lips feel bruised and he pushes his own chin down just to feel the gun’s barrel more acutely while staring hungrily up at the severe-looking man who’s towering over him. He swallows, wets his lips and with the barest smile says quietly,

“Did they… please tell me that they gave you some handcuffs, too?”

TTT

If anyone’s not seen the WM 21 trailer I urge you to watch it.

Taker playing dirty harry is already a lot to handle, but a possible prompt for hbtaker dirty harry au? Too much

#the undertaker #hbtaker #undertaker #this character lives in my head rent free #taker smut #dom!taker #undertaker x shawn michaels #shawn michaels #heartbreakertaker made me do it #TTT Tumblr Asks

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knives-deal · 5 years ago

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What Is A Movie Prop Gun And How Does It Work?

Read More https://bit.ly/3cizVpm

#blankguns #propguns #movie

#movie prop guns #prop guns #blank guns #front firing blank guns #blank guns for sal #blank guns for sale

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hopeamarsu · 3 years ago

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Kidnapping - Mafia Madness #4

Merlin (Kingsman) x reader

Word count 627

Warnings Kidnapping, pining, guns, shooting, death. The usual.

A/N: My first time writing Merlin! I hope you like my interpretation of him. This is set somewhere between the first and the second movie so after Valentine but before Poppy.

Merlin’s palms are sweaty as his fingers fly across the green keys of Kingsman jet mobile command center. Had he not been sitting already, his knees would be weak and his arms heavy as they shouldered all the blame of you getting kidnapped from your date with him. Why the team was here, in the Italian mountains and in pursuit of the mob.

His internal thoughts of how his body is behaving make Merlin let out a short bark of laughter. Of course Eggsy and his love of American hip hop would eventually find their way into his subconscious. You would love to hear that he’s seconds away from humming out the tune of an Eminem song in the middle of a mission. You’ll get a kick out of it for sure.

Merlin shakes his head, ridding him of the beat and lyrics, focusing back on the multiple screens in front of him. He’ll tell you later about this. This and much more, things he’s spent weeks rehearsing before finding the courage to ask you out. He’ll tell you it all when you are back in this plane, safe and well and he’s navigating all of you away from the snowy Alps.

Maybe he could direct the jet somewhere warm, Merlin ponders. Somewhere nice, with white sandy beaches and palm trees and cocktails out of a coconut. Somewhere where warm breeze dances in your hair and over his scalp, where loose clothing is the norm, and where he can hear your teasing in his ear about forgetting to put on sunblock on his ‘noggin’.

“Eggsy, status report?”

He is still not used to calling the young man by his given codename, Galahad. That title and name will always belong to Harry Hart and while thinking of the man will always result in a twinge of his heart, Merlin has done his grieving. It’s time to honor the man by continuing to fight the good fight. And this fight? This one might be the most important of them all.

“Coming’…got the… open the doors Mer…” Eggsy’s voice is broken into bits between static but the frantic way the young man yells in the comms makes Merlin’s fingers move with even faster speed. “Takin’… fuck!”

He pulls up the plane cameras on his screen, searching for the first signal of the oncoming rescue team. Merlin also prepares a few of the plane's hidden weapons in case Eggsy and Lancelot and you need cover to reach the plane. There! He spots three figures running towards the sleek aircraft, one of them limping and supported by the two others but even from a distance, the plane's monitors tell him they are covering the ground quickly.

Merlin presses the button of the door before abandoning his post by the desk and reaches for his trusted machine gun. His long legs that are covered by the standard Kingsman dress pants in sleek navy color, take him to the front of the cabin and he positions himself on the landing.

It’s a familiar feeling, holding the weapon and propping it up against his shoulder. He can feel his muscles tense and relax at the same time, his eye searching for any hostiles through the lens. The world slows into focus and he pops off a round, making the black figure in the distance fall. Merlin is calm, focused and none of the shakiness and clamminess is visible in him. He’s a weapon, honed to perfection, just like the entire plane the three of you are running towards.

Towards safety.

“Providing cover fire. Lancelot, Galahad, Lucan, get on board.”

The last words, whispered under his breath, are only for you to hear, even if they come through a shared channel. “I got you, mo leannan.”

Mo leannan = my love, my sweetheart, my darling

Everything taglist @clydesducktape @themuseic @miraclesabound @a-true-janian-reply @10blurredsmoke10 @caillea @mariesackler @princessxkenobi @sixshooter665 @amneris21 @strangunddurm

#mafiamadness #hopeamarsu mafia #mafia madness #merlin kingsman #kingsman fanfiction #merlin x reader #cw: kidnapping #cw: guns #cw: death #pining

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nyasiaaaaa · 4 years ago

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The Little things

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: established relationship, shooting, angst, Smut (18+), spanking, Dom/Sub, oral sex ( m and f receiving) P in V, fingering ( f receiving), spitting, use of good girl ( once), breeding kink if you squint, Fluff, helmet-less Din ( he only wears it when he’s outside), tw eating

A/N: First time writing smut and first time writing for a Pedro character. For @its--fandom--darling 1k follower celebration!!! Thank you @absurdthirst for all your help. Thank you @aripariii for looking over this.

 You throw your head back in frustration as you contemplate giving up feeding the kid. You had been trying to feed him vegetables for the past week. Every time you wanted to feed him some smashed peas with a spoon, he would use the force to push it into your mouth. You lift your head as you take a deep breath, ready to try again when Din walks in and throws jerky on the table for the kid. You look at Din in disbelief before getting up to clean the mess while you let the kid eat.

“I’ll be back in a few; this shouldn’t take long,” Din announced as he stood in place, scanning the room for his blaster.

“You missing something,” you asked, hopping on one of the crates looking over at him with a mischievous smile

“Give it,” he grumbled out, walking up to you holding his hand out

“Give what,” you questioned as you tilted your head. “Give this,” you smiled, pulling out his blaster.

Din tried to reach for it as you pulled back “nope, let’s make a deal.”

“I don’t have time for games, cyar’ika,” he replied trying to convince you to give it up.

“Then let’s not play any. I’ll give you your blaster if you quit giving the kid what he wants when I’m trying to give him a balanced diet, ok.”

“Ok,” he agrees to take the blaster from your hand.

“Also, you don’t have to rush back for lunch; just make sure you are here for dinner” he gave you a nod in response as he fished, packing up his things.

You pick the kid up and dust him over, carrying him over to Din so he could say bye. Din looked down at his son and ruffled his head before looking at you. He bent down, placing his cold beskar helmet against your head. He didn’t need to say anything you already knew and vise versa. Din straightened up and walked towards the ramp before typing in buttons and letting it down.

As Din was walking away, he stopped to remind you for the millionth time, “cyar’ika, don’t leave the ship, this is one of the most dangerous plants and-“

“I know you’ve told me all this before. I won’t leave me. The kid and I are going to chill here and watch cartoons or something,” you told him, interrupting his repetitive speech.

He stood there hesitantly, debating in his head before choosing to just walk down the ramp and away. You guys never did that stop and turn around things you’ve seen in movies; there was no need to. He was always going to come back; he had promised you.

As soon as the Din was far away enough, you closed the ramp and started getting ready to leave. Dins birthday is coming up, and you’re trying to make him a chocolate cake. In one of your late-night pillow talks, you asked Din what he remembers from his childhood before the Mandalorian, he replies that he doesn’t remember a lot. What he does remember is how every year, for his birthday, his mom would make him a chocolate cake. It was the best thing he has ever eaten in his life, well, the second-best thing he adds a few seconds later.

Since then, you have been collecting all the ingredients you need to make the cake over the next couple of weeks. You have everything but cocoa powder, the most crucial ingredient. You’ve looked everywhere, every plant, every website you couldn’t find it anywhere else but this plant.

You don’t want to go against what Din has asked you, especially because you said you wouldn’t. Still, you just wanted to do something special for him, for his birthday, because he deserved it. After all, he had done for you, you wanted to do something for him even if others might consider it a little thing you knew it would mean a lot to Din.

For example a few months ago, you tried to make sure Din started enjoying his meals more and eating meals more frequently. You did this by eating together like a clan Breakfast, Lunch, and dinner. You and Din sit next to each other at the small table you had built together, the kid in his high chair. Din had to adjust to it but never complained. He even started to look forward to it, rushing back to the ship sometimes after a bounty to make it in time for lunch or dinner.

You smiled, thinking fondly of the memories you’ve created with your clan over the past months as you started getting ready to leave. As you’re finishing up and was about to leave, you activate the droid; you have to watch the kid. This droid you had found in a past mission but never had a reason to fix it until now. You had been working on it the ship during flight and while Din was away on hunts.

When Din had asked you about the droid, you said you were programming the IG-11 to help clean around the ship. Din had been uncertain because of its killing background but ended up letting it go. You had lied though, you had kept the Droids programming and just added few changes to it. The changes were that when you left, its mission was to protect the child and take care of all its needs. It was to kill anyone or thing that came onto the ship unless it was you, Din, or the kid.

The little white lie was never a problem either because you only activated the droid when you and Din were out to watch the kid, and you always made sure to come back to the ship before Din to deactivate it, plus Din never questioned why he’d never seen the droid in “action.”

You set out to the local market nearby, where you were hoping to find the last ingredient so you could make the cake. Since you started a little late today and this is one of the most dangerous plants in the galaxy, you walked a bit faster than usual. The quicker you walked, the more excited you got. You were about to be done getting all the supplies to make the cake, just in time, because Dins birthday was in a couple of weeks. As you neared the market, you prayed to Maker that the thing you’re risking your life over was going to be here. You were incredibly proud of yourself for keeping this a secret from Din without him suspecting a thing.

***********

Din had tracked his bounty to a bar nearby; as he neared the bar, he could hear the noise of people inside. As soon as he stepped foot into the bar, it went silent, some people shaking in fear, others puffing their chest out and rising onto the balls of their feet slightly. Din looked around the bar; it wasn’t a bad bar. It just wasn’t the nicest.

The same color brown wood was throughout, green bar stools, plastic lawns chairs, mice having a party in every corner. Also, the floor was sticky; he could feel it with every step he took, he would have to use a little more effort than usual to lift his foot up, and you could hear it in every step. Din hadn’t spotted his bounty during his initial scan of the room, so he turned to the bartender to ask if he had seen the bounty. The bartender wasted no time and pointed to the backroom as he kept his head down. Din reaches the backroom and sees a smaller room same design and layout as the front with four men playing poker and three bodyguards. Dins usually not a man of words, but he doesn’t really feel like fighting today, so he tells them, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours.”

One guard rushes towards Din and tries to grab him, but Din is quicker; he pulls a blaster and shoots a bodyguard in the chest. He starts getting attacked by two of the bodyguards but takes them out with ease. After the last bodyguard fell to the floor, he heard footsteps pounding against the floor, then pressure is applied to his back, one of the poker players had jumped on him. Din falls backward, crushing the person underneath him; he then quickly rolls over, props himself on one knee, and pulls his blaster to shoot the guy. Din then whips his gun around to the other side of the room to find two people standing there shaking with their hands up, neither of them his bounty. Din snaps his head in the direction of the door he came in as he hears the bell ring that’s placed above the door. He pushes himself off the ground and starts chasing after the man.

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

You had to go to three different vendors in the market, but you finally found the cocoa powder you were looking for, the lady dared to charge you three times its worth, but you didn’t care anything for Din. You had to wander deep into the market to find the cocoa, so on your way out, you were doing a slight jog. You had hoped you were making good time and would make it back in time, but you had no way of knowing for sure.

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

Din is chasing after the guy, and he’s so close the guy knows this too. The bounty suddenly stops in the middle of a crowd; he pulls out a blaster and waves it. Sounds of shock and fear echoed threw out the public. Din steps forward to get the guy he needs alive; the man suddenly looks around frantically, pulls the closest person to him, and puts a gun to their head. It was you. The bounty had put the gun to your head. Din’s mind blanks. He has no other thoughts besides getting to you; he doesn’t care if the bounty is for him brought in cold. The bounty had touched what’s his.

Din quickly pulls his blaster ready to fire when suddenly you pull forward, folding over as you push down on your toes; you then spring up, moving your head back to strike the man’s head. The man then stumbles backward from the sudden impact. Din is quick to act as he runs towards the man and then shoots the man in his arm, the man falls to the ground, and Din proceeds to lift the man up and place him in handcuffs.

Din turns towards you to scan your body as he looks for any injuries. His beskar covered face then looks up towards you as he asks, “hurt,” and you proceed to shake your head no. Before you can ask if he’s hurt, he grabs your arm and pushes you in front of him, signaling to walk. You do walk as he follows, dragging the bounty behind him.

The journey back to the ship was quiet, too quiet even the bounty tried to speak on the tensions, “struggle in paradise, eh.”

Din pressed his finger into his wound for that one.

You’d been so distracted by the event that happened you had forgotten about the droid, but it was too late. Din had already typed in the code, and the ramp was coming down.

This was the first time, the one time Din wasn’t the faster person in the room; by the time Din pulled his blaster out, it was too late. It all happened in a blink of an eye. The bounty was dead. The droid shot him.

You were nervous, it’s not like you were in desperate need of the credits, but the money could have help, and you know Din just went through a lot to get him.

“The child is safe, would you li-“IG-11 started before Din shot him. You were about to complain, but then you remember the situation you were in.

You stood in silence for a couple of minutes before deciding to look at Din only to find him staring at you. You turned your head away so quick that pain in your neck started to arise. “Din I-I-I’m so so sorry this is all my fault, I’ll take the blame, ok. Just tell Greef Karga, ok. Can he be brought in dead? I mean, it’s not a big deal, y-y-you’ve done it before. Greef Karga will s-still a-a-a-accept it right …. RIGHT!”

Din didn’t utter a word as he dragged the body onto the ship; he put the body into carbon freeze and closed the ramp. Then he just stood there. He didn’t move an inch. The tension in the air was so thick, you could even breathe properly. You knew this was your time to leave him alone. Earlier, you had noticed that the kid wasn’t in IG-11s arms, so you were planning on looking for him, assuming that he had been put to sleep because this was around his nap time.

“Ok, so I see that you need alone time; I’m just going to find the kid and take care of him,” you said as you turned to go look for him.

You didn’t even get to do a complete 180 before Din grabbed onto your wrist and twisted it, pulling your body closer to him. You could hear the hard deep breaths he was taking as he stared right into your soul.

“Why,” he whispered out, hurt invoice.

“I-I-I,” you tried to speak, your eyes moving back and forth as you tried to find his.

“Why would you be so stupid? I told you not to leave, I told you this place was dangerous. You didn’t listen, why can’t you ever just listen.” He snapped at you, saying every word with a tremble. He let you go and started to walk away from dragging his feet across the floor.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, your eyes watering up, tears threatening to fall.

Your words had made him stop dead in his tracks. “Are you” he questions as he walks towards you. Each step he took towards you, you took one back till your back hit the wall. You were nervous but weren’t afraid, you knew Din would never hurt you, but you still didn’t like to be around him when he got like this.

“WHAT WAS SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU RISKED YOUR LIFE FOR? DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND THAT YOU COULD HAVE DIED TODAY? DO YOU EVEN CARE?”

You did understand how sideways things could have gone, and you were trying to tell him that, but the words kept getting caught in your throat. So you ended up just slowly shaking your head in agreement.

“Are you sure cause you don’t seem like it? What about that FUCKING droid? You lied to me; why would you do that? You already know how I feel about them, so why would you do that. And to leave THE KID with it. I hope whatever you got was worth it. Just do what I brought you here for and watch the child,” he growled out as he walked away towards the cockpit so he could set our next coordinates.

You stood there for a second shook but started to move to find the kid after the ship took off. He was in your old room, which you and Din turned into a toddler’s room after you moved into his. You picked the kid up and sat down in a rocking chair. You hugged the kid close to you as tears fell down your cheek. You were angry. Din had no right to talk to you like that. You messed up, you understand that, but to yell at you like he did have. Plus, you had risked your life for something for him. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t know it; he should know you better than to just assume that you would have intentionally risked your life for something stupid.

***********

Din sat in his chair in the cockpit, feeling the weight of guilt immediately; the weight of his beskar couldn’t even compare to how heavy this felt. He felt awful; he regretted every word that came out of his mouth. He was just so angry; he had almost lost the only person he has ever cared about since his parents besides the kid. That was no excuse; he has had his fair share of screw-ups, the number of times he has almost gotten killed was too many to try to count on both hands.

He took his helmet off and put his hands in his head. He was stressed after all the events that happened today, but he was most worried about what had just happened in the bay. He deliberated on going down there and apologizing to you but ultimately decided to give you your space and apologize later today.

Din was going to apologize, he swore on Maker, but later that day, when he found you so he could apologize, you were sleeping in your old room. He was tempted to move you to the room you shared but then decide against it knowing you had fallen asleep in your old room for a reason. He slept in the cockpit that night; it didn’t feel right without you next to him. It’s funny Din spent most of his life alone; now he doesn’t even know how to sleep alone.

The next day Din did honestly try to apologize to you, but every time he entered the same room as you were in, you got up and left. Din understood that you probably need space after the fourth time stepping into the same room as you and you walking out. Din decided that you probably needed one more day.

The next day came, and you still were leaving every room he came into. He was sad; he missed the family dinners and lunches, he couldn’t wait any longer, he decided to apologize to you as soon as possible.

Din stepped into the kitchen area around lunchtime; he knew you were cooking something that requires your full attention, so he knew you wouldn’t step away.

“I’m-I’m sorry, I should have never yelled at you like that. I was angry because the bounty tried to run and then held you at gunpoint, he was touching what was mine, and I-I-I took it out on you. I should have never taken it out on you; I’m sure whatever you went out for was well worth it. I’m sorry, cyar’ika, ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

Din waited there for something, anything, you didn’t say a single word. You instead finished up your cooking, turned the stove off, and proceeded to fix you and the child a plate before heading off to the cockpit to eat.

Din stood there in shock; this is not how things usually go after an argument. Din stood there for a few minutes as he contemplated what to do next. Maybe he had said it wrong, he thought; Din hadn’t apologized a lot in his life, he could count how many times on one hand, and all those times he had been with you. All those times, you had also accepted it, so Din shook his head of the thought that he had said it wrong. He decided to give you another day to think about accepting his apology.

***********

A day turned into two, then three, next things Din knew, three weeks had passed. It had been complete silence for three whole weeks. Din was dying inside. He barely ate or slept; he missed you, everything about you, even things that seemed stupid. He missed the way your hair smelled, he missed the warmth of your body as he slept next to you, he missed your smile. Din has never been before addicted to something, but he will bet this is what it feels like to go through withdrawal.

He craved you mentally and physically; he had started waking up this past week on the verge of a nut. He always had the same dream to, he would apologize and you would accept. Then he would worship your body like never before, discovering new things about you, what turns you on and how flexible you really are. Each and every time right before he would nut, right when you give him permission to cum inside, he wakes up, every time like clockwork.

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

It was around lunchtime, and Din sat in the kitchen debating his next move. He needed you. He missed the way you guys used to be as a clan; just him and the kid alone wasn’t the same. He looked up and saw you putting the kid in a high chair and turning to the fridge, taking stuff out to make sandwiches. He laid back, watching you move around the kitchen. You had one of his shirts on with some shorts that you couldn’t see unless you reached up to get something that made your shirt rise.

He watched as you bent over getting something out of the fridge, his dick twitched in his pants. He had been so deprived of you that anything you did got him hard; he grunted as he started to palm himself over his pants.

You had heard Din behind you, you smiled to yourself, you knew he was dying inside, you’d heard it every morning when he was rubbing one out. You honestly had stopped being mad like a week and a half ago. You just wanted to see how long Din could stay away from you; you really wanted to see how long till you had Din Djarin on his knees.

You finished cooking and made some food for the kid and you, but instead of going up to the cockpit like you usually do, you ate in the kitchen. You decided to stand up to eat, leaning over the counter, back facing Din. You moaned with every bite you took, doing a little happy dance.

You had unknowingly confirmed to Din that you were no longer upset and were playing. He had suspected it but wasn’t sure; you would do things like get changed with the door open or take a shower with the door open. He saw those things and thought that you were ready to talk, but when he tried, you walked away. He had assumed that you weren’t ready and wasn’t doing those things on purpose. He knew now, though, that you were playing some type of game, a game he was about to end.

You had finished eating and looked up to find the kid sleep in his chair. You took the kid and put him in his room so he could sleep in peace. You came back to the kitchen to clean up; you felt Din’s eyes on you everywhere you went. You walked over to the crates to put some things from the kitchen up, passing Din as you went. You had felt him before you saw him, his back pressed up against you. You could feel the heat radiating off his clothed body as he pressed up against you. You leaned in for a second before realizing what you were doing. You turned around, trying to leave, but Din stood in your way. You had no other choice but to look up at him and go along with whatever he was trying to do.

“What do you want, Din,” you asked

“I was going to say I was sorry.”

“Well, apology not accepted,” you said quickly, cutting him off before he said another word.

“See cyar’ika keyword, was, “he replied looking at you with his brown eyes

“So what do you want now, Din,” you asked as you walked backward, eventually running out of space as your back hit the wall. You swallowed the lump in your throat and asked him again what he wanted.

He didn’t reply; instead, he reached up and took a finger drawing it from your collar bone to your chest; you shivered as he stared circling your covered nipple before pinching it.

“You,” he said

“What”

“You had asked me what I wanted now, and my answer is you,” he replied.

You were about to question it when he brought his finger up to your lips to quiet you before bringing his hand down and up your shirt to play with your breast. He made a low groan in his throat when he realized that you weren’t wearing your band wrap.

“At first, I was mad that you had put yourself in danger. Then I was a little sad when you started dodging me; it really hurt when you didn’t respond to my apology,” he chuckled. You could hear the smirk in his voice. He lifted up your shirt up over your head. He placed his hands back on your breast and then pinched one of your nipples, making your head fall back as you moaned out loud.

“Then you started playing games with me, messing my head all up. To blame you for playing this game would be wrong of me,” he said as he left you boobs, and his hand traveled up to wrap around your throat. Your body leaned into his touch, your hand reaching out to wrap around his wrist that was at your throat.

His hand squeezed your throat tighter at your silent request as he pushed you back, bringing his head down to bite along your collars before mumbling against your skin, “I realized that it’s not your fault, I should have taught you better, and I will” he said and then quickly pulled away and grabbed a chair to sit down.

“What,” you asked, eyes popping out head. You were confused, but it was too late; Din had already pulled you over his lap. He had pulled down your shorts; he was excited to see that you were wearing a thong, so he left your underwear in place.

“Din, what are you doing?” you questioned as you shifted around on his lap, trying to get a better look at him.

“If you’re going to act like a little brat, then I’m going to treat you like a little brat,” he said as he processed to take his gloves off.

“I will give you an equal amount of slaps on each cheek, and you will count each one out, ok, and safe word is cake, ok, “He asked as he messaged each cheek.

You shook your head as consent, “I need to hear a yes cyar’ika,” he said, giving you a little tap on your right cheek.

You yelped, surprised by the slight sting that followed that slap, and wondered how on Tatooine you were going to endure more, mainly because you and Din have never done something like this before. A slap or two while he hit it from behind, was the closest thing that had ever happened.

“Yes,” you were excited, you’d never seen this side of Din; you might even start messing with Din more often.

Din was smiling; he always loved to try new things with you. He continued to run over each cheek for a few more seconds before he raised his hand and landed the first smack on your right cheek.

“One” You choked out as he rubbed the cheek he just slapped.

It was hard, and it stung, but there was something about it that turned you on.

Din lifted up his hand before smack the left cheek “two,” you tried to suppress your moan. You were kinda embraced at the fact you were getting turned on from this.

When Dins hand landed on your right cheek again for the second time, you moaned loudly as you said the number three. Din smiled at that; he was happy you were enjoying this new thing. Din continued to tear your ass up, each slap hurting more than the last. You were getting wetter with each one to the point where your wetness started to drip down your leg, your underwear no longer keeping it in as it was soaked.

You were preparing to feel a sting on your left cheek for the last slap. Instead, Din pushed you off his lap and set you onto the floor. You laid there confused as he spread your legs open and took your thong off. He got on the side of you and leaned down to kiss you. Your lips captured his in a passionate kiss. You were distracted as Din slipped his tongue into your mouth, so you didn’t see it coming. He had raised his hand and slapped your pussy. You throw your head back as you moan, tears streaming down your face from the intensity of the sudden, overwhelming rush of pleasure.

You shot up before going back down as you raised your hip as he started to rub circles on your clit. He reached down, placing kisses along your neck up and down your neck to your collarbone and back up. He took your ear lobe and brought it into his mouth, pulling on it before letting it go.

These slow circles on your clit were killing you, “Please,” you whimpered as you reached down, placing your hand on top of him, encouraging him to go faster.

He slapped your hand aways, stopping because of you. He rubbed his nose up and down on your ear before asking.

“are you going to be a good girl for me?”

You shook your head up and down, unable to speak as he started playing with your clit again. You didn’t realize that this game you were playing had affected you too till now. You were so desperate; you would do anything he asked just so you could cum on him because of him.

He took his hand away from cunt and brought it up to your lips. You looked Din in the eyes as you took two of his fingers into his mouth and sucked on them. You closed your eyes as you moaned, tasting yourself on his fingers. You weaved your tongue around his fingers before you hollow your cheeks, making a popping sound when he pulled them out.

He ran his finger down your body before shoving two fingers inside of you. You moved your hips down to meet the thrust of his hand. Your legs threaten to close as the pleasure builds, nonsense mumbling falling from your lips.

“More,” you begged

“Faster,” you cried as he gave in to both of your demands.

Suddenly he stopped, and your whines of complaint soon turned into a moan as he pressed his tongue against your clit. He shifted so he could wrap his hands around your thighs as he dove in. It was still the best thing he has ever tasted, he thought to himself. Your back arches as he bites softly on your clit before he sucks on it, and he pushes two fingers into you. You reached down your finger through Din’s hair, causing him to moan into you to moan as you clench around him. Din loves feeling the way your body reacts to him, the way you gripped his fingers, his tongue, his dick.

You were close. You can feel it, and so could Din, so he quickened his pace.

“I’m- I’m. “You tried to speak be couldn’t

“I know,” he said, moving his thumb to circle your clit

You were so close, you could feel it in your stomach. You were about to cum when Din pulled his fingers out and started to lick them clean.

You let a puff of air out as you lose your high. You prop yourself on your elbows as you looked at him, throwing your hands up asking why.

“I just wanted you to see how it feels to work so hard for something only to have it taken from you at the last minute.” He said, standing up but never breaking eye contact with you. You choked on your spit when you realized what he was referring to.

You tried to stand up, but he placed a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down into your knees. You cocked your head to the side, and he just reached down and took your hand, placing it on top of his pants.

You looked up at him licking your lips before unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his zipper; you pushed his pants down along with his boxers down. You spit into your hand before wrapping your hand around his dick as much as you could. You stroked him before sticking your tongue out and licking the tip, then running your tongue up and down his shaft.

He grabbed you by your hair, yanking you back to look up at him. “Don’t play with me,” he said before taking his hand and wrapping it around your jaw to keep it open as he spits in it.

He let you go, and you stroked him a few times before taking him into your mouth. You moaned around him at the taste of him; this caused Din to lose his balance for a second, making him grab onto a crate to balance himself.

You swirled your tongue around his head before going back and forth, taking more of him in each time, you pulled back off of him, but strings of spit still connecting you to him. You purse your lips as you spit into your hand, reaching down to massage his balls before taking him back into your mouth, making sure to lick the pre-cum as you did.

He reached behind your head to grab your hair as he thrust into your mouth, you gag on his dick, but he keeps going knowing that you will tap against his leg if it gets to be too much. Din grabbed on to your head with both hands as he continued to fuck your face; you could feel him inching down your throat with each thrust. He was about to nut; you could feel it as his balls started to tighten. He griped your hair tighter, signaling for you to look at him. “Where,” he asked, slowing down so you could choose.

He let go of your hair as you pulled back, sticking your tongue out. He smiled down out at you before taping his tip against your tongue a few times as he started to stroke his dick. He quickens his paces and grabs onto your head, pulling it tight, so he won’t miss his target. Din grunted as if he was in pain as he painted your face with white streaks. He rubs his dick smearing the last bit on your tongue. You swallowed the bit in your mouth before feeling around your face the rest and swooping it into your mouth. You licked your lips, smiling up at him when you were all done.

He bent down and swiped his thumb across your cheek, getting the little you had left behind into your mouth. You sucked on it for a second before he pulled it out. He grabbed onto your hand, helping you up as his hands cradled your face, and he pressed his lips to yours; he moaned into your mouth at the taste of him. He reaches down to grab your ass before smacking up light and kneading it as you wrap your arms around his neck.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss as he taps your side, signaling for you to jump up so he could carry you. You jump into his arms, and he takes you into the room you shared and lay you against the cot. You lay there waiting for him as he finishes getting undressed.

He got onto the cot and got between your legs; he stroked himself a few times before lining it up with you. He looked up to meet your eyes looking for consent, and you nodded your head, giving it to him. He slowly pushed into you feeling your walls stretch around him before tightening. Your head falls back as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You grab onto the sheets, bunching them into your hands as you feel yourself being starched to your limit. You take your legs and wrap them around Din’s waist. You cross your ankles as you try to push him into you to make him go faster. He stops suddenly, he’s not even all the way in, and he stops. You’re starting to regret trying to make him go faster, you can’t see much, but you can see him smiling. You know that smile, nothing good is about to come out of that smile.

Din pulls all the way out before slamming back into you completely. You didn’t even make a sound because the air is knocked out of you; your back arches as you try to catch your breath. As soon as you caught your breath, he steals it as he leans down for a kiss capturing your lips roughly.

As he continuously pounds into you ruthfully, he takes one of your legs wrapped around his waist and pushes it to your chest to get a better angle to go deeper. You cry out with every thrust, your voice bouncing off the walls, echoing in the room.

“Mine, This body, theses tits, this tight as pussy, it’s all mine,” he told you as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

“It’s yours; every part of me is yours,” you agreed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him in closers.

You were close, especially after being denied earlier; you need release. Din quicken his paces as he felt you clench tightly around him.

“I-I-I’m close,” you screamed out.

“Cum for me, riduur,” he whispers in your ear.

The name he calls you pushes you over the edge; you clamp down on his dick as you cum. That doesn’t slow him down as he continues for a few strokes riding out you high before pulling out, flipping you onto your stomach, and pushing back into you without warning or rest. You back arch into his thrust as he makes your legs go apart, spreading you wider. He pops onto one knee, driving into you mercilessly as he reaches down to press your face into the mat.

As he’s thrusting into you, you feel one of his fingers circle around your unstretched hole; you guys had been saving that experience, maybe for this moment. “Can I please? I’ll only put a finger in,” he begged you you nodding your head under his hand. He acknowledges the movement as he pulls out, reaching down swooping up some of your wetness before plunging back into you. He teases the hole before slowly pushing his thumb in, causing you to arch your back even more and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “ f-f-fuck, Din” you stutter out when he got fully in.

Din quickens his pace in you as he sets a steady pace with his thumb. This was new to you, so being stretched like this, you were close to began for more; you wanted to know how it would feel to be pushed to your limit in both holes. You decided against it as you feel Din reach under you to toy with your clit, you chocked on your spit as you tried to catch your breath, all this pleasure was becoming too much for you to handle, you couldn’t even seem to catch your breath.

The pressure builds up in your stomach once again as you feel your peak near. You let sob into the mattress as you feel yourself clench around Din like never before as you cum. Your back arching to the point of pain, which only adds to your pleasure. You feel Din slow down; at first, you are confused about what he’s doing, but then you realized he’s watching how well you take him. He’s looking at how your pussy quivers around him with every stroke. He then speeds up for a second, loving the sound of skin slapping and the gushing sound your pussy makes as your wetness flows out of you staining your sheets.

Din chuckles before pulling you up by your hair, pressing your back to his chest, as he starts to thrust into you. Your body naturally arching into him as he reaches up and cups your right breast, moving his other hand down as he rubs vicious circles on your clit. Your tried body slumping against him as he takes you from behind. He knows you’re tired even if the grip you have on his dick says; otherwise, he stills know. He leans down into your ear, telling you, “you have one more in you, I know do.”

You reach up to take his hand from your breast to wrap it around your throat; you gave his hand an extra squeeze encouraging him. You get that familiar feeling in your stomach as he continues to pound into you with one hand wrapped around your throat and the other one rubbing circles on your clit. You whimper as you try to tell Din you close, but your body is too tired to even conjure up the words. Din understood you though, he was close, not far behind you. He knew that the feeling of you coming around him would do him.

You throw your head back against Din’s shoulders as you felt yourself unravel on him. Din places a hand on the wall as he losing his balance the feeling of your tighten around him as you milk him dry, he continues to pump into you, riding out of yours. Din pulls out, turning you onto your back, laying you down before opening your legs and settling himself between them. He pulled back for a second because you had winced in pain, his dick had rubbed against your extremely sensitive mound; he pulled back, readjusting his self before laying back down. He played comfortably in your arms, his head in the crook of your neck as he rubbed circles in your side while you laid there with your arms wrapped him.

Din lifts his head up and leans down to capture your lips in a sloppy but passionate kiss that held a lot of emotion behind it. You pull away, and he pushes his head into the crook of your neck, and you reach up and run your fingers through his loose curly.

“I’m sorry about everything I said, it was wrong, and I was out of line.” He said but face still in your shoulder

“It’s ok. I should have been more careful when I went out; I didn’t even bring a blaster with me,” you replied as you continued to massage his scalp.

“What did you get from the market.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises. Do you not remember the droid.” He asked

“Hey, at least we know it effective,” you said laughing, but Din wasn’t

“Too soon,” you asked, but you knew it wasn’t as you felt Din smile against your skin. You guys fell asleep just like, you holding him in your arms.

********

The next day went by so smoothly; you guys were back to the daily routine like nothing happened. Din was excited to get back to the meal sharing, he didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. You guys had eaten breakfast together but had your lunches separate because you each had your own projects to do. Which is what you told Din, but you had actually needed the rest of the day to set up everything for his birthday dinner and make the cake.

You weren’t even sure if Din knew today was his birthday, but even if that’s true, it will make for a better surprise.

Din was coming down soon; he just had to set new coordinates. You guys needed to come out of hyperspace to get gas before continuing on your journey to the next plant where the next bounty is at, which is two days away.

During one of your trips to the market, you found a pretty little black dress; you were so excited to wear it for his birthday. You don’t even remember the last time you were in a dress, and you knew Din had never seen you with one, so it would be like icing on top of the cake.

You heard footsteps above you move, and you were quick to act as you turned around, lit the candles on the cake, and flipped the light switch.

You heard Din slide down the step and walked towards you; your back was still turned to him, and it was dark, but something was illuminating your face; he just didn’t know what. He reached over to the wall next to him and flipped the light switch on. He turns and sees the kid in his high chair next to you.

“cyar’ika,” He asked, stepping closer to you.

You then turn around slowly, not wanting to make the candles go out. As soon as Din sees your face, he gives you a small smile, but it drops when he sees what’s in your hand. You were nervous for a second, thinking that you had crossed a line or something. Then you saw a single tear roll down Din’s face; you had never seen the man cry. You had been with him for close to a year and never have seen this.

You set the cake down and quickly went over to him, embracing him in a hug. He hugged you back so tightly as if he was going to lose you.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner Ridder,” he said, but you only recognized one of the words used.

You reached up and wiped his tears and took his hand and led him over to the cake, Din looked at you before bending down to give you a quick kiss, and he straight up, closing his eyes for a second before bending down and blowing out his candles. You clapped your hands in enjoyment and excitement and reached over to pull in your face for a quick kiss. You heard a slight noise, and you pulled back and turned to see the kid clapping also.

You laughed at that before reaching over and grabbing a knife so Din could cut his cake. Din happily took the knife from you as he cut himself a pretty big piece of cake; he took a fork and a huge bite. Din moaned as he took his first bite, slowly chewing on the chocolate fudge cake with chocolate frosting. His tongue dashes out to lick up any residue that he might have left on his lips.

“I might have to change my mind. This might be the best thing I have ever tasted,” Din said, bringing down the fork for another bite.

You faked gasped, “what does that make me second.”

“You know what? I think I need a refresher, especially with you in that little black dress,” I said, licking his lip, and he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Later, the kid and I are hungry; it’s time to eat,” you said as you shoved him off of you.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed you on the neck before saying, “no, seriously, this is the best thing anyone could have given me. I have a question though, is this what you went out to get” he asked, you hummed in response.

“As much as I love my gift, and I really do, please do risk your life over something like this. All I need is you and the kid, and I’m happy, ok.” He said

“Ok”

Cyar’ika - darling

Ridder - wife/partner

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you.

ner Ridder - my wife/ partner

#mando #mando x you #pedro pascal #star wars #smut #din djarin #din dijarin x reader #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #din djarin x you #nsft text

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shixen · 2 years ago

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The Red Rain

Did the red LEDs not work and they were like fuck it just ignore it

Masaki really can't ignore the chance to talk to a woman

Synchronised dismount

Masaki coming in clutch with comedic timing every damn time

Walk like its fashion

Hiroto walks like hes got frame stabilisation in his eyeballs

Masaki makes more sense with the context of extreme middle child syndrome

These children's bike helmets are killing me

I'm sensing a large surge of babygirl energy from the Amamiya brothers right now

Oop there it is

The swag is unbelievable. Immaculate vibes

Blah blah blah backstory

Amamiyas back in the SWORD zone baybeeee!!!!

Cobra and Masaki baby-girl off

Hiroto is adopted big reveal

Youngest child syndrome is real but Masaki is too annoying to let that stop him

Matching leather jackets for the boys, coolest 12 year olds on the block

Hiroto the saddest wettest boy

Masaki has a sherlock moment

Cobra my love, why does the light always hit you just right

If its a festival I just know Hyuga is skulking around here somewhere

Heavy breathing, its the opening beats of Red Lights - Stray Kids (Bang Chan & Hyunjin).mp3 up in here

How did they lose him at a full sprint when he is, at best, power walking away.

Theyre at a church again. I dont think they're even religious. Is there symbolism? I honestly can't tell

Uh oh guns

4 guns zero problems

Takeru got a lisp how does he call Masaki by name?

Masaki looks so much like Sieun from weak hero, it just hit me this far into the movie

How did 68 dudes with guns only land one bullet on him

A yakuza clean up team wearing all white is so stupid. You're not Rocky, you can't pull it off.

Takerus tattoo is so awkwardly placed

Masaki you can't outrun a car baby girl

Hiroto now is not the time for your emotional collapse

Scarface but he actually has a scar across his entire face

Oh my goooood Takeru, right in front of Hiroto

Okay well the squelching noises were completely unnecessary

Oh wow that shot is really beautiful actually

Hmmmmmm I don't think he's gonna make it

Everyone is sad and wet again

Are you just gonna leave him propped up like that in the rain?????

Chick you've known him like 2 weeks, don't yell at his actual brothers

Oh no Masaki not the big sad eyes, you'll break my damn heart

This some fast and furious bananas

Convenient gas tanker

Flaming action shot

Motorcycles are immune to diesel fires actually

Masaki big angry

Fuck him up girl, literally slayyyyyy

This yakuza clan is literally the worst at their jobs

That fish needs a bigger tank with more stuff in it

Put your flippin helmets on

I am watching every HiGH&LoW movie back to back and simply allowing my brain to drip out of my ears

Its how I want to go out

I am taking notes for introspection though, to report my findings

#spoilers #high&low

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candy-floss-crazy · 1 year ago

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obeymeluv · 4 years ago

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Quick! Kiss Me! [Part 2 - Lucifer]

So originally this was supposed to be multiple brothers per part but this got unexpectedly long and I only had the energy to get through Lucifer. I’ll definitely get to the other brothers. This project may take priority over the others until I get them all out. I know what I’ll be doing for Mammon’s, sort of for Levi’s, definitely for Satan’s, definitely for Beel’s, and I’m not quite 100% on Belphie’s or Asmo’s. Honestly, they’re not all supposed to get this long, but this one had some lead up + Lucifer. The other ones will probably be a couple of paragraph’s, maybe a page at most.

Note: The Thrall/The Call is something that came up in a Diavolo piece forever ago. Can’t even remember which one because I had to go back and find it myself. It’s basically one of their tell-tale signs they’re trying to seduce someone or flirt with someone.

Some of these kiss scenarios will get a little NSFW because the bros get to kiss you, have a crush on you, and are excited dorks. Everything under the cut just to be safe.

Any bolded italics are your/MC’s thoughts since you can’t currently speak.

Quick! Kiss Me! [Part 2]

After a few awkward moments of the brothers standing around, their hearts squeezing in their chests as they tried to hold back their individual Thralls to make your choice more neutral, they realized their wouldn’t be a choice. There couldn’t be. The lip color was too scrambled to work in such a small space with that many people. You’d just barely blinked and the brothers skittered off at inhumane speeds that made your skin crawl; in your human brain it was very much those ‘distant echoes of horror movie noises one should never hear.’ Lucifer turned so abruptly his cape snapped; he melted seamlessly into the natural darkness hiding around the House of Lamentation.

That was the starting gun for the others to disperse.

Belphie exploded into black wispy shadows, sinking into the floor. Asmodeus stretched his wings again, flapping leisurely towards his room as he blew you a teasing kiss. Satan’s eyes, somehow greener and more bewitching than ever, hesitated to leave you as he retreated up the steps, made it about three before deciding to jog, and finally teleported towards the top and around the corner, hints of his horns and a brief whip of his tail following him. A skin-prickling rumble sounded soon after; the fourth-born had embarrassed himself.

Levi sought the privacy of his room, as to be expected. He would die if he kissed you ANYWAYS, but to kiss you in front of his brothers?! He’d rather have a conversation with a stranger! Gross! He was more than happy to get his red face out of view and mumble…whatever he was talking about…into his handheld console.

Only Beel and Mammon remained.

You looked at them curiously, brows raised. Beel gave you his casual smile, a little humming laugh at this situation, and promptly picked Mammon up by the collar of his jacket as they walked away from the foyer area. It was clear the second-born would lounge around and maybe try to sucker into kissing him first. You’d like to think Beel was forcing him to hide so the lip color could give you an accurate reading, but you’d always wondered if the kind, ever-hungry brother got jealous. If he did, he never showed it (and for a guy with six brothers, that was impressive).

Brain and body calmed by the emptiness, by the fact that they were somewhere in the house, you set off on your quest for a kiss. No one’s going to believe this, you rolled your eyes, starting towards the right wing when a gust of cold air overtook you. A chilly numbness set in, nipping at your fingertips and pulsing in your lips and face enough to give you a headache. Not that way, you turned away sharply, the cold receding as you moved in the other direction. Some people have really cute ‘how did you meet?’ stories and mine was getting tricked into magic demon makeup that my boyfriend had to free me from, as you found yourself in the middle of a random hallway an aggravating realization set in: the House of Lamentation was so ornate and old that all the hallways looked the same.

Same walls, same tone of polished furniture, same light fixtures, and the carpeting was a given.

Hadn’t you already been down this hall?! Why was it when you really needed to find one of SEVEN people, you couldn’t find any of them?! You felt like you’d walked the whole house! The House of Lamentation was far bigger than it looked on the outside (was that even possible?) and now you were beginning to think the brothers picked the very corners of the house! You were honestly surprised the brothers hadn’t come looking for you. Some small part of you was too amused and couldn’t help but smile at the fact that centuries-old demons were freaking out and pacing in their hiding spots like schoolboys fixing to go on an overnight trip with their crush.

You shuffled forward, wondering what a positive response felt like. Time alone to just think was really odd, especially with how chaotic the Devildom could be, but it led to some really interesting thoughts. No one would believe the ‘magic demon makeup’ part of your story but you could lie and say it was a really intense game of Hot and Cold. Any of them would make good boyfriends, you admitted to yourself, glad none of them were around to see the pink in your cheeks. If one of them popped up, you’d just lie and blame it on the warm tingle prickling at your lips.

A warm tingle?! That was a lot like what you felt when your lips were sealing shut! You spun in a startled circle, not sure when the feeling began, and desperately tried for a stronger reaction. A prickle became a tingly bubble, like a glass of champagne going to your head too fast, and soon your body felt like it was floating, rolling on waves upon waves of a butterflies-in-my-stomach that washed you up in front of a door.

Inside you found…

Lucifer sitting at his desk, half-heartedly pouring over paperwork. You pushed the heavy door open, feeling like you’d pulled the curtain back on a privacy charm, and wiggled past the old wood. The lazy tapping of whatever he was writing with stopped, the eldest perking up like someone had set him free of the eternal coil of paperwork. If you hadn’t been looking at him while trying to pull your other leg through, you would’ve missed the boyish glow of hope, the they picked me! It’s me!, that was promptly devoured by his blossoming pride.

Face propped up on a gloved wrist, now lounging confidently back against his chair as his other wrist dangled off the arm, Lucifer invited you in with a sly smile and a beckoning roll of his fingers. You rolled your eyes. We both saw your heart stop. You don’t need this ‘tall, dark, and dom’ fake allure, you waved your hands about to emphasize the ‘allure’ as you flashed him a well-meaning smile. You felt pretty confident knowing you could fluster the first born, the one with the sin of pride.

It was actually really heart-warming to know he was so eager to be yours.

“This is no act, I assure you.” Lucifer abandoned his cloak on the back of the chair, undoing it with one hand as he rose to meet you. His wings unfurled slowly and softly, ever majestic, and feathered out to their full length. They shuddered and fluttered, blowing a gentle air about the room. His eyes, normally a gradient of red and black, looked completely red. Lucifer’s pupils had taken on some slit-like appearance that had flecks of black rimming the sides.

A purr rolled in his chest, something quiet but confident, enticing, as he waited for your hand. You found yourself hypnotized by his eyes—maybe for real?—dropping your hand delicately into his. The leather folded around your skin and you couldn’t look away, even as he brought it close to his chest and then higher still, like he’d put it on his shoulder. To pull you into a kiss as dramatic as this—in the quiet only surrounded by the sound of his wings and a purr and the fire crackling in the back of the room—was very Lucifer.

You stood on tiptoe, looking up at him expectantly. Hell, you even batted your eyelashes to really get at him.

WHAT?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

Lucifer’s lips brushed your knuckles again in a stuttering kiss. He placed a few more open-mouthed kissed up your finger before the laughter took over him again. He knew exactly what he was doing, just like he knew what he was doing when he smoothed his hair back away from his face. “Have I left you speechless, my dear?” he’d started to stand to his full height, shit-eating smirk on his lips. His voice was wrapped in a sultry purr that was undoubtedly the first sin mankind ever heard.

That cool façade was strangled in the grip you had on his folded collar, bringing the first-born nose-to-nose with you. Lucifer was hardly intimidated by your glare but oh you were very darling.

BECAUSE YOU CAN’T AIM! Your nostrils flared as you pouted a bit. You’re supposed to kiss me HERE! You pointed to your lips.

“I can’t aim?” Lucifer’s wings twitched, probably in indignation. Were you implying he couldn’t do something? His lips twisted upwards in a little huff, the beginnings of a sneer even. All of that melted away when that large hand cupped the back of your head, fingers twining in your hair. You’d just registered the sensation when he brought your lips to his, head tilted and savoring the kiss.

It was a long with a slight suckle, the eldest truly indulging in this minuet of a moment compared to the usual chaos of his daily existence. He felt you sag against him, hooking his other arm around your waist to stumble towards his desk. You were an awkward clatter of bones against him, chest-to-chest, and one leg falling out of the chair, but you managed.

“This was how it was supposed to be,” Lucifer confessed softly, sitting you in the space he’d cleared for you. Literally. You just now realized the scant space on his desk was big enough for you to sit. He dragged the chair forward, your legs naturally coming to rest against the padded backing on either side of his waist. Lucifer tucked some hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek. “I wanted to kiss you this way,” but my pride got the best of me, he didn’t dare finish saying it, but he thought it.

You felt your lips open, swollen and beautifully tender. To breathe through them felt weird. They still tingled with the after-effect of the enchantment. Lucifer watched you lick your lips experimentally, draw in a breath, and allowed himself to be drawn in, too. You shared a few more languid kisses before his D.D.D started to go off.

You saw Mammon’s icon pop up, then Asmo’s. The brothers were looking for you. “That reminds me,” Lucifer patted your thigh before pushing himself away. He stole another kiss before rounding the corner of his desk. He opened the door just slightly, stepped out of the room, and bellowed something in demon tongue that had a clear message of finality ringing in the house. Whatever he’d said made him lock the door to his study with a quickness, a crimson spell burning into the wood.

Looking very much like a smug older brother, Lucifer dropped himself elegantly back in his chair. One hand situated your legs just as they had been, the other one pulling you close for good measure. He coaxed you into a few kittenish kisses, flinching against your lips when the banging started. You could hear Mammon complaining outside the door. A spell fizzled against the door; seems like Belphegor or Satan had fired one off. Content and exhausted, he found purchase in the curve of your neck, enjoying the silence and your scent.

“We’ll get through this.” You combed your fingers through his hair. You’d have to face the brothers eventually.

“I look forward to it.” Lucifer kissed your shoulder.

#Lucifer x Reader #Obey me!#Obey me! x Reader

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kitaychan · 3 years ago

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Rusamechu week 2022

Prompt: Movie night/ actors

I am totally self indulging with this one, tw for guns but I promise is not as serious as it sounds.

Red flags.

Summary: Alfred F. Jones is the sheriff of a small town, his heroic deed won't end as expected.

There were a lot of signs of misfortune, a dark cloud could foretell a heavy rain, vultures circling the sky presaged death and a heavy locomotive passing at full speed and missing it's stop usually meant trouble.

Alfred didn't wait for an order, the red kerchief tied to the machinery wagon was a sign of outlaws, and the welcome crowd gathered around the railroads screamed an easy target to be held hostage.

The air was heavy, Alfred could barely make out the pathway ahead, he could feel the sun shining with all its might, his leather gloves making his hands sweat.

A small town was hard to take care of, provided with little professionals, a new doctor was a sign of hope for the population and a treasured individual for the mayor, of course the outlaws would take the opportunity to gain some money.

He lowered his head, pulling the reins slightly and leaning on the horse, the animal quickened his pace, leaving a dusty trail as it moved its hooves.

The railroad screeched louder the more he approached, Alfred patted the horse before taking a deep breath, completely sure that it would not run directly into a tree. A cowboy had to trust his horse to death, right?

The locomotive grew near in an incredibly fast speed, Alfred drew out a small smile, grunting as he let go of the reins and kneeled on the mounting, the last wagon drew closer and he leaped forward, almost missing the railing and catching himself with one hand.

He greeted his teeth as he propped himself up, hooking his foot on the window and taking a good hold of the roof. As he crawled upward, the wind blew violently and he couldn't hear anything besides the roaring of the locomotive.

He kept advancing, from wagon to wagon until his eyes caught the sight of bullet holes. A gunshot to the roof usually secured the obedience of a hostage crew, more than one meant that someone had tried to play the hero.

Through the small holes he could get a glimpse inside, there were three men by the front door huddling behind a table, one right in front of them, laying down -the wannabe hero wasn't that bad- two figures barricading behind a counter, probably the doctor and it's savior sheltering themselves from the outlaws and another man approaching the back door. Alfred took out his gun, six bullets, four men, he could do it.

He started by knocking on the roof, a gunshot resounded and he saw 'backdoor man' fall off the train. Good, Mr. Savior had some brains, hopefully it would tell him not to shoot the roof.

A crashing sound resounded and smoke started to cloud Alfred's sight. He hurried to the front of the wagon, if a fire had been set, the doctor and his companion would have to leave their safe place.

Aim and fire. One, the bullet caught a man in the left shoulder, angry eyes were staring back at him as a revolver pointed his way. Alfred didn't hesitate to shoot again, the man fell to the ground. The roof was getting warmer. Everything was good, three men and four bullets left.

He cursed when a gunshot resounded and his hat fell. He pointed the gun and pressed the trigger, gasping as he got a blow from behind and missed the shot. Alright, three bullets, one for each. He turned his head, just in time for a hard punch to the face.

Bang, Alfred had to admit that he didn't mean for the fourth bullet to waste that way. The man stumbled letting out a wail, Alfred took the opportunity to fire again. Two men, one bullet left.

A gunshot resounded, this time dangerously close, another followed, coming from below and he had to retreat. He made his way to the back of the wagon again, if he and Mr. Savior worked together; they'd have more than just one bullet.

He jumped down, taking off his sheriff badge and opening the door, hissing as he was kicked on the calf and dropping his badge. Alfred was about to kick the man back, when the barrel of a gun was aimed right in his face.

His eyes darted from the gagged young man on the floor to the harsh golden glare of the aimer.

"Easy, I'm here to help,"Alfred moved his hand, motioning at the rusty star on the floor. The blonde on the floor, whined, looking at him with widened eyes.

"How did you get the job if you have such a bad aim?" The brown haired man with golden eyes scoffed, coughing and covering his nose with a silken bandana, the gun was lowered and he dragged the young man back.

Alfred frowned, glancing at his coal stained hands as the man inspected his badge. "Can we stop the train?"

"It's fairly easy, there's a leaver on the machinery that halts it. The problem is, our friend over there," He said, motioning with his head, where a flipped table lay. Alfred's attention was caught by another whine from the young man, he tapped him with his foot, his eyes traveling from Alfred to the back door.

"You can see that the doctor is a softy,"

"Why didn't you untie him?" Alfred asked, stepping closer before being shoved down, a bullet hole gracing the place where his head had been just a second ago.

"I've been a bit busy," the other said, reaching for the shotgun again. Alfred took a deep breath, this was the lucky bullet, he took the opportunity to aim as the last attacker was busy sheltering from his partner, with a small movement of his finger the smell of gunpowder grew overwhelming, the gunfire resounded thunderously, and the man fell to the ground.

Alfred laid back, lowering his arm and whipping the sweat from his forehead. He gave the doctor a small smile, approaching him as he shook his head. "It's fine, it's almost over,"

The man next to him chuckled. "Just one left,"

"Where's the oth-"Alfred's words were interrupted with a sudden blow in his head. "Ah, fuck" he blurted, there was a pause as he locked his gaze with the other. "I mean, lawsy!"

Laughter erupted from the other man, several voices joined and a ring resounded as well as a shout of 'cut' coming from the director.

Alfred stood up from the floor, glancing around, the tied up blonde was shaking with laughter too.

"Lawsy!" The director shouted, letting out a laugh. "I'm considering leaving that, but the curse has to go. Why don't you get a rest before doing it again?"

Alfred nodded, freeing his hands from the leather gloves, his heart beat hastily as his co-worker approached.

"You are unbelievable," The man beside him offered him his hand and Alfred frowned. How could he stay so calm when he had ruined the shooting?

He had made these two experienced actors break out of their roles. "I'm sorry," Alfred said, lowering his eyes, they'd have to start the scene over again.

"No, don't apologize." Another voice joined, this time it was Ivan. "It's a compliment, I had to double check, I thought he had actually hit you."

"Right? I was growing scared." Yao said, patting him on the shoulder. "The fourth gunshot wasn't supposed to go off in that moment yet you just went with it,"

"That's impressive, and the chase!" Ivan beamed, a smile growing on his face, "I could never ride a horse like that, which is partly why I didn't apply to be a ranger,"

Alfred looked at them dumbfounded, his face burning with embarrassment at their words.

"Someone's got his vocabulary on point, where did you get the lawsy from?" Yao asked.

Alfred shrugged, not wanting to embarrass himself by speaking of his cowboy obsessed childhood.

"We should take the hint and let the director laugh it off," Ivan stood up, stretching his arms and giving him a wink. "Howdy partners, wanna go for some Adam's ale?"

"Thought you'd never ask, doc."

Alfred snorted, walking beside them. "I ain't refusing the offer, sir,"

Though awkward, the small room in the front wagon gave them a bit of privacy, it was secluded enough to hear each other but not as silent as the machinery roared every now and then.

As the red kerchief danced vigorously, battling with the wind, Alfred let a smile settle on his face. This movie was a blessing for him, an opportunity to escalate in the entertainment industry, and a good omen for the future.

His aching hands and dry throat were soothed with the cold water and his heart fluttered with joy, this small talk could be the sign of a good start for them

#RusAmeChu week 2022 #prompt: movie night/ actors #writing #tw guns #rusamechu #hetalia #hws america #hws china #hws russia #hetalia fanfiction #my writing #Ilich writes #ilich writes

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thanksjro · 4 years ago

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

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

So.

This is a little different than what I usually do.

Clearly.

God, how did we even get here?

Oh, I remember.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

Haha, I doubt it.

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

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

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

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

For loving his child.

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

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

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

No. Not at all, actually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just a shame that I don’t care.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right???

RIGHT??????????

RIGH-

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

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

Anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As if women are property to be owned.

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

We’re 17.5 minutes into this film.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t be fucking serious.

ANYWAY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which made me groan aloud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right???

RIGHT??????????

RIGH-

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

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

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

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

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

Ed Sheeran does not survive this experience.

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

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

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

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

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

So they try it again.

This time it works, sort of.

At the very least, he’s left now.

Tail fell off, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Judy doesn’t count.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For about 20 seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ratchet’s fine, by the way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We still have another hour of this movie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nope, that doesn’t happen either.

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

Repeatedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being advocated for by Optimus Goddamn Prime.

We still have another 50 minutes of this movie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, right, because ~girl~.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y’know.

Like a vast, predatory bird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feminist icon Megatron?

Feminist icon Megatron.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Congrats on your first murder, Sam.

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

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

In tow.

In tow-

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

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

Then Bumblebee talks and he’s fucKING BRITISH.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s where they leave us.

IT TOOK THREE PEOPLE TO WRITE THIS SCHLOCK.

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

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

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

What a mess.

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COMING SOON:

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

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

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

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

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

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