#how many times have i watched this movie by now

[xinganhao]

🔄 svt x reverse tropes.

✩ reversal of popular tropes, most of which are based on this post! established relationships, breakups, angst [if you squint], crack -ish, fluff, cussing. drabbles under the cut.

🔄 uno reverse card .ᐟ

seungcheol & mafia boss kidnaps you accidentally kidnapping the mafia boss.

seungcheol isn't really sure how he ended up in this situation. the cool metal of the chains feel foreign on his ankles, and he briefly considers trying to break through them himself. what kind of 'kidnapper' lost the key to their cuffs? he can only watch, exasperated, as you google how to pick a lock with a hairpin. you're sweating buckets. he finds it just a teensy bit amusing. "don't worry. i'll spare your life," he drawls as he leans back to watch you fret. "but only if you get me out in fifteen minutes. otherwise… well. that's debatable."

jeonghan & fake relationship breakup.

what was supposed to be an april fool's prank has ended the relationship that jeonghan never thought he'd be without. that isn't to say he hated you. god, no. if anything, he's convinced he'll love you to his grave. it's just— a different kind of love, he concedes, as the two of you hold hands underneath the table. mingyu jeers something about the breakup being a joke, and jeonghan shakes his head. "it's as real as they come," he announces. the two of you glance at each other when nobody's looking. it'll be your little secret, it seems.

joshua & marriage divorce of convenience.

it's a question of assets and inheritance, the whole reason why you and joshua have to 'divorce' in the first place. he's been incredibly vocal about his distaste— the thought of being away for you for ever a moment is ludicrous— but he'll grin and bear it, if it means the two of you can live a cushy life when you retire. still, he frowns as you sign off on the papers. he focuses on the promise of a second wedding. "i want a hundred guests." he wraps his arms around you from behind. "and a chocolate fondue. please."

junhui & there's only one bed there's too many beds.

how the hell did jun miss the fact that the listing said 7 beds, not 1? he'd tried so hard to orchestrate a little forced proximity moment with you, only to fail spectacularly. he lays on the top bunk of the double deck, staring at the ceiling, as he contemplates his life choices. you're still giggling in the bunk below him. "oh, shut up," he grumbles, though there's a hint of a fond grin on his face. maybe tomorrow night, he thinks, he'll recommend a horror movie. that way, you might ignore all the other beds and crawl into his.

soonyoung & miscommunication too much communication.

it's a little too hard to keep up with the string of confessions bursting out of soonyoung. the whiplash is dizzying, how he's going from talking about the way he felt when he first saw you, the crush that's been festering for weeks, the dream he had of you last night— and, oh, now he's on his knees. "soonyoung, please get up," you urge, horrified, but he stays on the ground. "isn't honesty the best policy?" he asks, eyes blown wide with overwhelming sincerity as he looks up at you. "c'mon, give me a shot! please, please, please!"

wonwoo & 'academic' rivals (except you're both teachers).

there's no way that you're the top class of the month. wonwoo has half a mind to march up to the principal's office and demand a recount. his eyes narrow in response to your smug smile— one that he'll wipe off your face if his life depends on it. "don't get cocky," he warns you below his breath. in his mind, he's already envisioning how he and his students can knock you off the leader board. this was not going to stand. "i'll get you next time," he says, and it sounds more like a threat than a challenge.

jihoon & fake dating everyone is convinced we're not dating.

this will definitely prove it, jihoon thinks to himself as he leans in to kiss you in lieu of a greeting. you let out a surprised hum against his lips but you melt right against him, your hand resting over his chest. for a moment, a stunned sort of silence befalls the room. jihoon pulls away with a dazed, almost smug sort of grin, only for his smile to falter when soonyoung loudly says, "wow. you guys are, like, dedicated to this bit, huh?" jihoon is convinced he's going to throw himself out of a window if this keeps happening.

seokmin & mean guy who's only nice to you nice guy who's only mean to you.

seokmin doesn't know how to explain it, but you bring out the worst in him. everything about your existence seems to just vex him, from your pretty smile to your bright laugh. he's generous in doling out grins and pulling out the charm for everyone else; when you're around, though, it takes a tremendous amount of effort to be normal. you're feet away from him, interacting with someone else, and it's grinds on his nerves. in the corner of his eye, he sees you giggle; something crawls underneath his skin. so annoying, he thinks. laughing with someone that isn't me.

mingyu & cuddling for warmth too warm to cuddle.

it's been four days, twelve hours, and twenty-six minutes since mingyu last cuddled with you. the two of you are sweating right into your sheets, the infertile summer heat made doubly unbearable with the fact the air conditioner is busted. "can't we just cuddle for a little bit?" mingyu begs, his sleeveless shirt clinging to his skin with every small move. he shifts on the bed to glance at you, a pout firmly set on his handsome face. "i'll run us both an ice bath afterwards, i swear. but i'll die if i don't get to hold you tonight, love."

minghao & fake amnesia.

"except for the amnesia?!" "i know! i know!" minghao screeches, uncharacteristically panicked as he meets junhui's disbelieving gaze. "i— i panicked okay?! it's not my best work!" minghao hadn't known what to say, really. it wasn't everyday that you ran into the one who got away while grocery shopping. he'll be damned if he's dragged right back down under, so he had let out a little white lie of having memory loss. "god," minghao groans, running a hand over his face in frustration. "i need to start googling what webmd has to say about amnesia…"

seungkwan & dating your best friend's enemy's sibling.

this is seungkwan's favorite place in the world: the railing of your balcony, waiting for you to look his way. it might be easier to date if your brother didn't hate his guts, but seungkwan's more than willing to make a couple of concessions. you've made a romantic out of him, it seems, because now he can only think of shakespeare whenever you come to sneak him into you room. the sight of you puts an easy, almost giddy grin on his face. "my lady," he coos, quoting romeo and juliet because he knows it will make you laugh. "my love."

vernon & love hate at first sight.

vernon has never been a believer in reincarnation. that is, until he met you. he's convinced the two of you have met in some past life— how else to explain the immediate hatred he has for you, the moment he laid his eyes on you? it's an undeniable, searing kind of loathing, almost laughable in its intensity. no person should be allowed to feel this passionately about someone. and yet here he is, his typically cool demeanor cracking like ice in the face of your fire. you have him melting for you, in more ways than one.

chan & true love's hate's kiss.

"let's make this quick," chan snipes, even though he's in no position to be making demands when he's the one calling in a favor. you shoot him a withering glare but you comply all the same, because he promised he'd owe you absolutely anything after this. a stupid true hate's kiss. chan squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the worst smooch in the world— only to be jolted by the soft press of your mouth against his. you taste… sweet. huh. when you pull back, your part of the deal fulfilled, chan instinctively leans forward, chasing your lips.

[auroracalisto]

secrets and scars

movie!fiyero x gn!reader, 847 words summary: the reader has been scarred for some time now. fiyero discovers them and does something rather... unexpected. a/n: idk what this is. but like... yeah. hope it makes sense. i was gonna queue this and save it for later but i’m gonna go ahead and post it. i have a few queued posts for jonathan bailey characters in the coming weeks so. i’ll try to feed you all for the holidays. ♡ tw: reader has scars? no direct mention of where they are but it could be triggering. slight reference to sexual content, reader is naked for a hot minute but nothing graphic happens. you'll understand when you read.

Scars. They littered your body, an unfortunate reminder of the past you barely escaped. It was as if your body didn't want you to forget.

You wished you could.

You're lost in your thoughts in one of the many archways of Shiz University, staring out at the blue sky above. Your fingers itch to touch your scars—to scratch, to peel them away. You didn't want the reminder of who you once were. You didn't want the reminder of what once happened to you.

In all of Oz, you'd give anything to be able to erase your scars.

Anything.

It's a flurry of a night—confusing all around, and then somehow, Fiyero ends up in your dorm, kissing you, touching you, and by the love of Oz, how is he so quick with your clothing?

But before you can stop him, panic-stricken, he sees them. Your scars.

He's silent, wide eyed as he looked at them, lips parted as his eyes flicker from each mark on your skin.

He licked his lips a bit nervously, glancing up at you.

"You—are—" he stopped himself, seeing the panicked look on your face. "Oh, Y/n," he breathed out, moving to sit beside of you on your bed. He gently pressed a hand to the side of your face. "I'm sorry. I should have asked."

You slowly shook your head. "No. No, it's okay, I just—just didn't expect you to move so quickly. You, uh—"

"Surprised you, hm?" he softly asked. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before he found his voice once more. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, his eyes fall to your scars, and you can tell he wants to ask you questions—how you got them, what happened, how long ago it happened.

Instead, he says something that takes you by surprise (because of course he did—Fiyero was filled with surprises, was he not?).

"They are beautiful."

"What?"

"Your scars."

You're silent for a moment. "My... my scars? Are beautiful?"

He smiled softly at you, taking ahold of your hand. He looked into your eyes. "Yes. Your scars are beautiful," he softly said. "I won't ask you about them. You can tell me when you decide you are ready, if you ever are."

Your eyes soften as you admire him from your spot on the bed. You feel so exposed—naked to the man not only physically but also emotionally. It was an odd feeling. A... welcomed feeling.

"May I touch them?" Fiyero softly asked.

"My scars?" you questioned for what seemed the hundreth time in the past few minutes.

"Yes. Your scars."

"You want to touch them?"

Fiyero looked at you, an incredulous look on his face. "Yes, Y/n. You can say no, it's quite alright. My feelings will not be hurt if you say no."

You watched him, swallowing nervously. "You... you're so odd," you softly said.

He snorted softly, a smile embracing his features. He leaned forward and kissed your cheek.

"Only for you."

You gave a small nod in return, and watched as he moved down the bed, focusing on the part of your body with your scars. His eyes flicker up to yours and he pressed a soft kiss to the puckered skin.

"Only for you," he repeated.

You feel flustered more than anything, looking away from him and his beautiful brown eyes.

How odd, indeed.

"I... I don't like them," you softly said.

"You do not like your scars?" he softly asked, a finger gently brushing against one of them. "Did something—"

"—I'll tell you. One day. Just..."

"Of course," he said. "I understand. But... Y/n, I meant what I said. They are beautiful."

You pursed your lips.

"They show how much strength you've had to survive, Y/n," he said, leaning forward and letting his lips connect with yours. "They're beautiful because they show me you've had to be brave. To be courageous in the face of such disaster. Your scars may be something you do not like, but do not wish them away."

You don't look at him, but you do not push him away.

"I do not know how you got them," he said, "and I am so sorry if what happened to you was... well, unsavory. But... they show such strength, Y/n."

"Strength is ridiculous and you know it," you muttered. You just want to rebuke his statement, as sweet as it may be.

He pecked your lips again.

"Perhaps that's not the best way to describe what it is, but I can't think of what would be better," he said. "This brain of mine doesn't want to work when the most beautiful person in all of Oz is letting me see their secrets."

Your heart pounded in your chest and you looked up at him, eyes softening.

"You are so odd," you repeated.

He snorted softly. "Yes. We've established this, Y/n. Thank you."

A smile quirked on your lips and you gently grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him in for another kiss.

"You're welcome."

[hischierhoney]

I Know Places

Jack Hughes x actress!reader // masterlist

title & inspo from I Know Places by Taylor Swift. written for the Eras Tour fic challenge! thank you to @comphy-and-cozy and @wyattjohnston for putting this on!

Summary: When the press catches Jack leaving your apartment, things seem set to crumble. But Jack has different ideas. 4.2k words

Warnings: mentions of press/pressure from the media, some mild angst but it’s fixed by the end!!

It’s past 2am when you stumble your way into your New York City townhouse, eyes bleary and tired, limbs even more so. The lights are off, besides the one in the hallway, and you don’t bother to turn any of them on. You just shuck off your jacket and shoes, shuffle your way down the hallway, up the stairs and straight into your bedroom. There’s one thought in your brain, and it’s bed. Warm, cozy, soft, full of blankets and pillows and a man-

You nearly scream at the sight, the gentle slope of shoulders under your fluffy comforter. You press your hand to your racing heart as it all comes flooding back. You, on a layover between Los Angeles and New York, stuck in an airport for longer than planned, on the phone with your boyfriend Jack Hughes.

Jack, who’d promised to pick you up from the airport until your flight got delayed. Jack, who has morning skate at 7am and needs his sleep. Jack, who, in a moment of sleep deprived, airport lounge tequila induced delirium, you had told about the key you keep in a potted plant, and suggested that he let himself in. Suggested he crawl into your bed and fall asleep. Just in the interest of sleeping next to him, of maybe having a couple moments with him in the morning.

You don’t get much time with him. Not nearly as much as you’d both like, at least. The two of you are too busy, too full of your own obligations, with his job and your job. Star hockey player and America’s sweetheart actress- it’s like a pairing from one of those Hallmark movies, the ones with perfect houses draped in fake snow that look like they’d smell like warm cookies. Except this is real. And he’s here.

He looks peaceful, you think, as you pad across the room to be closer. His cheek is smooshed against the pillow, on his stomach on the bed, laying in a spread eagle position that’s going to leave it difficult for you to find any space. His lips are parted slightly, soft breaths puffing out between them. Jack sleeps like the dead, you’ve found, from the now many times you’ve slept in the same bed. He says he’s trained himself into it, with hockey and all. You’ve witnessed his pregame naps, watched him fall asleep in seconds flat. It’s impressive.

You make your way to the bathroom, doing what little you can muster of your nightly routine. When your eyes start to close on their own accord, you shuffle your way back to the bed, in your pajamas now, and study the scene. How best to handle the boy in your bed, how to fit yourself against his body so that you can finally fall asleep like you’ve been aching to do.

Before you get the chance, there’s the shrill sound of a phone alarm, and Jack sits bolt straight up in bed. You stumble over your own feet, hand over your heart again, breath stolen from your lungs. Jack scrambles for his phone. It’s 2:30 am.

He’s rubbing at his eyes when he scans the room and finds you. Then he mirrors your position, eyes wide, hand over his heart.

“Why th’ fuck are you already here?” He mumbles out.

You choke on a laugh. It’s a hell of a greeting. “What?”

He groans. “Set an alarm. T‘go pick you up.”

You blink at him, half his face illuminated in the pale moonlight that spills in through your window. There’s a soft breeze that ruffles his hair and makes him shiver- he’s left the window open slightly, the way you like to sleep. Goosebumps raise on his bare skin. You tear your eyes away.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, bewildered. “I told you to just go to sleep.”

“Yeah, but. I set an alarm,” he repeats. He digs the heel of his palm into his cheek, his lips pulled into a pout. “For 12:30. So I could pick you up.”

You cock your head. “Well, it’s 2:30, so I think you set the wrong alarm.”

He groans loudly, brows furrowed, and then lets out some string of gibberish. He checks his phone again, then sets it down on the nightstand. You watch with curiosity as he flops back down onto the bed, on his back this time, blankets pooling around his waist. He’s bare from the waist up. Not for the first time, you have the urge to press yourself against every inch of his skin.

He seems so untouchable, here. Like in this room, he’s only yours. It’s a heady feeling, to watch him sigh and pout about missing his chance to pick you up from the airport. It’s private, normal, domestic. So few things in your life fit any of those descriptors. It tugs at your heartstrings.

“C’mere,” he calls out, spreading his arms across the mattress again. “Come cuddle.”

You don’t argue. Sleep tugs at your bones the second your head hits the pillow. He tugs at you until you’re plastered against him, the heat of his sleep warm body spreading over you. When he ducks his head to kiss the crown of yours, you sigh happily.

“How was th’ flight?” He asks, his voice still laden with sleep.

“Fine,” you mumble. You’re not really in the mood to talk about it. “Missed you.”

He laughs lightly, his chest rumbling with it under your head. “Missed you more.”

You feel his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up towards his. You blink through your exhaustion to meet his gaze, and you sigh happily when he kisses you, for real this time. His lips are warm and soft, his little bit of stubble scraping against your skin in an almost hypnotic fashion. This is why you told him about the key. You wanted to come home to him.

The rest of the world melts away, and you’re left with just Jack.

….

You wake up at 11:30 the next morning to an empty, cold bed, a hoodie folded neatly on the end of the bed with the number 86 on the shoulder, and a barrage of notifications on your phone. They’re still rolling in, chiming every so often. Your heart lurches.

There are a billion from your manager- something about being careful and bad look and you didn’t even get in until 2:30 so why was he there- and your stomach sinks even further. When you open twitter, there it is. A grainy, blurry set of photos, of Jack’s shoulder and back as he leaves the townhouse, his overnight bag slung over his shoulder, his white sneakers bright in the blue early morning light. You can’t see his face in any of them, the hood of his jacket pulled up around his head, which is topped with a beanie and sunglasses. He’s almost unidentifiable, but you know the internet. They’ll figure it out.

It’d be easier if you’d never been seen with him in public before, but you have. Months ago, now, at a charity event hosted by a mutual friend. There’s been a photo of you and Jack from that night, chatting away near the bar in the venue, smiles on both your faces. There’d been a barrage of posts and notifications, then, too- eager Devils fans who were excited to see you talking to him, eager fans of your own who had similar feelings, the other way around. And a text from your manager, reminding you of your upcoming movie, of your male costar who you were supposed to maybe-potentially-possibly be in love with. For the press. For the ratings. But Jack had captured your heart that night, with a teasing joke about Hollywood and a soft little grin on his face, and you’d been unable to forget him.

Now you’re here, in your empty bed while Jack is at practice or meetings, or something in between. It’s not the first time. But it feels like it could be the last.

Jack’s a private person. You are, too, when you can be. When you’d first gone out with him after that first night, he’d seemed wary of all the precautions you took to hide from the press. You’d smiled ruefully and told him that if this was going to happen, he’d have to get used to sunglasses indoors and private rooms and stay at home dates. You’d expected it to scare him off. It usually did- you can’t blame any of them, really.

But it’s been months now, and Jack woke up in your bed this morning. So the scaring didn’t really work as planned.

Text me when you wake up.

That’s the text from Jack. No emojis, a period at the end, no life to it. You fight the urge to roll over, press your face into the pillow, and go back to sleep. Try again later. Hope this is a nightmare.

You text him back, something equally as lifeless. He’s probably busy, he probably won’t have time anytime soon, so you’ll have to wait until then to figure this out-

The phone rings. It’s an echo of Jack’s shrill alarm hours ago, except he’s not here to rub at his eyes sleepily and smile at you and make you feel better. Now it’s his contact, the simple “Jack” flashing across your screen. You sigh and swipe to answer.

“Hi,” you say. Your voice cracks on the single syllable, gravelly from stale plane air and travel and disuse.

“Hi,” Jack echoes. His tone is warm. Soft.

You swallow. “I’m-“

“-sorry,” Jack says, talking at the same time as you, saying the exact same words. You blink up at the ceiling above your head.

“What?” You ask, a bit bewildered.

“What?” He repeats. “Why are you sorry?”

You blink again. “Why are you sorry?”

He lets out a huff, one you can almost picture. “I fucked up.”

And this is how it goes. You’d thought of all people, Jack would have the decency to do this in person. To wait until you’re not seconds past waking up. That maybe he’d give you a bit to process before he called it quits, before he says what everyone else has said before him.

It’s too much.

You’d warned him, back when you’d seen him for the 7th time. You’d been laying in his bed, half on top of him, drawing patterns on his bare chest with your pointer finger. He’s asked about labels and how serious this was and if you were seeing anyone else, and told you he wasn’t. All very brave of him, really. You’d been afraid to say anything for weeks.

“Not seeing anyone else,” you’d admitted. “Where would I find the time?”

He’d huffed out a laugh and tucked you close. “Can we maybe keep it that way?”

It should’ve been a red flag. Not on his part, but on yours. You know how this ends, you’ve been down this road before, and you’d known, even then, that this wouldn’t end any differently. Things go smooth until the media catches wind, and then they figure out who he is, and then everyone picks apart every little bit of him until there’s nothing left for you to hold onto. You can’t blame them, all the people you’ve lost to this curse.

You hate the media enough yourself. You can’t imagine subjecting anyone you care about to it.

You’d tried to warn him. About the secrecy that would be required, about how if anyone ever caught wind of it, he’d be subject to the worst scrutiny of his life. He’d tried to insist he understood, that nothing could be worse than his rookie year, that this mattered enough to him to put up with the pressure. But now the pressure is drilling down on the two of you, and he’s crumbling, just like they always do-

“I knew better than to leave out that door,” he says. “There’s always a pap there, you’ve told me about it before,” he says. “I was just. I was in a rush, because I was so comfy this morning, and I forgot, so. I’m sorry.”

You frown. “It’s okay, Jack.”

You’re the one who told him about the key. Who let him stay over, fueled by sleep deprivation and the urge to see him, even just for a little bit. You’ve gone and contributed to your own demise. God, you were going to let him pick you up from the airport. What kind of idiot are you?

“Are you okay?” You ask him.

He scoffs. “They don’t even know it’s me.”

Your gut twists, again. “They will.”

“Mm, maybe my powers of camouflage have worked,” he says. “Maybe I’ve stumped them.”

You don’t bother pointing out that if the press haven’t already figured it out, his fans will. Someone’s bound to point out the grainy Devils logo on his hoodie, the characteristic swoop of his hair. Someone’s bound to have followed him to his car, and they’ve probably already looked up his license plate. They’re probably running it through whatever system they use, and even if Jack is leasing the car he’ll still show as connected to it, and then they’ll dig their claws into him.

“They’re never stumped,” you tell him. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Fuck.”

“I know,” he says, voice softer this time. “So. What do we do?”

You pry your eyes open. What do we do? We.

“We?” You choke out.

Jack scoffs. “Yeah, we. I mean. Do we come out and tell everyone, just to take it away from them? Do we lie?”

We. It’s never been a we, before. Not like this. It’s always been flight, never fight. Like everyone before Jack hadn’t thought it was worth it to even try. Had thought you weren’t worth it.

“Jack, you don’t understand,” you tell him. “They’re gonna tear you apart. They’re gonna tear us apart.” Until there’s no us left, you think. “We- we don’t do anything. There’s nothing to do.”

“Not to stop them, no,” he agrees. “But you’ve had this before. How did you and those people handle it? I mean- I can avoid interviews for a while. Nico will take them, he’ll understand. And the All Star break starts soon, so then-“

“They didn’t,” you cut in.

He pauses. “Who didn’t what?”

You sigh, again. “They didn’t handle it, Jack. They broke up with me and left me to handle it and kept going on with their lives. So. Nobody will blame you if you do the same, let alone me. I get it.”

Jack stays quiet for a few moments. The silence hangs between the two of you, heavy and thick. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to say it. Because you always let them do it. No matter how much you’re to blame here, you can’t be the one to end it over this. Not when things were going so well with him.

“I’m coming over,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“Just- stay put. Stay there. I’m on my way,” he says. You hear the jingle of his keys.

“I’m not going anywhere,” You tell him.

“Me neither,” he says.

You don’t bother to warn him that there’ll be added media attention, that the place is probably swarming with people with cameras. You don’t think it’ll change his mind- Jack is stubborn when he’s set on something. And it’s a little late, anyways.

He shows up an hour later, probably having had to fight through insane traffic to get there. You’re back in bed, having only gotten up to brush your teeth before retreating to the safety of it. He lets himself in with the key, and you hear him come up the stairs and shuffle over to your bedroom door.

He stands there, haloed by the hallway light. You roll over to look at him, barely able to keep the tears from forming in your eyes. Maybe he’s just waited to do it in person. Maybe he’s trying to let you down easy. It’s never easy. To lose a relationship like this, before you’re ready.

Things were going so well. You think of nights spent in your kitchen, making dinner together, sharing a bottle of wine. You think of all the hockey games you watched from hotel rooms while you’ve been doing press, and the way Jack answered all your questions on the phone afterwards, never letting on how exhausted he really was. You think of breakfast delivered to your door while he was at away games, and the way he spoke so fondly about his family and friends, how they’d all love you and you’d love them. And now, you’ll never get the chance.

Jack, standing in the doorway, sighs.

He makes his way over to sit on the edge of the bed, and he reaches a hand out to rest against your cheek. You sigh in response. Wait for him to open his mouth, for it to hit. You wait, and wait, and-

“The way I see it, we’ve got a few options,” he says. You blink up at him. “We can just go public, take away the hype about it. We could pretend we have no idea what they’re talking about, just ignore it. We could wait for them figure it out and handle it then. Or-“

You sit up slightly, and he pauses. You know the confusion is written on your face. His gaze softens, blue eyes warmer than they’ve ever been.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he says. “I don’t run when things get tough. Come on, you know me better than that.”

You want to tell him you’d thought that about everyone, only for them to run from it all, run from you, at the drop of a hat. But you don’t, because you can tell from the hard set line of his jaw, from the determined bend in his brow, that he means it. That he’s not going anywhere. At least, not without you.

“I wanna run away from it all,” you tell him. “I want to take you somewhere they can’t find us. I want-“ you cut yourself off with a wry laugh. “I just want you, that’s all.”

A smile creeps across his lips, and he leans forward to press them to your forehead. Warmth spreads over your body, all the way down to your fingertips and toes.

“We can make that happen,” he says. You can feel the smile against your skin. “If that’s what you want. I know a place.”

You let out a laugh, one that’s mixed with tears. But when he lays down in the bed and pulls you close, you’re inclined to believe him.

…..

The “place” Jack knows takes hours of travel to get to. It takes packed bags and ditching responsibilities on both of your parts, and dodging questions from your friends. But as he pulls the car into the driveway, you think it’s worth all the hassle. The house is blanketed in soft, fluffy snow, hanging off the branches of the trees and over the edges of the roof. He opens the garage and pulls in, and when the door closes behind you, you breathe out a sigh of relief.

When he’d suggested his Michigan house as the getaway location, you’d been skeptical. Anywhere that was linked to him would be a risk once they figured out who he was. But he’d told you about the security of the neighborhood, the gate at the entrance, and that they’d never been bothered there before. He’d suggested that the two of you could just stay in the house the whole time, and it wouldn’t matter. The press finding out about Jack is inevitable, at this point. But as you walk into his house, you remind yourself that they can’t touch you here. You’ve left them all chasing their tails in New York City and disappeared.

Besides, the snow is coming down harder now. Even the paparazzi wouldn’t brave the weather.

Jack insists on carrying your bags in, and then he shows you around. The living room is first, decorated with photos of him and his brothers. The house is full of hockey memorabilia, you realize, as he shows you around. But it’s also warm. Personal. Home. There’s a photo of him and his brothers as little kids hanging over a fireplace. It makes you smile, the way you recognize the light in Jack’s eyes, the determination on his face. He hasn’t changed a bit. You’ve been in his apartment in New Jersey, but you know now that this is what he considers his real home.

He takes you up to the bedroom before the rest of the house, so you can get settled. You change into even comfier clothes than your travel ones while Jack heads back downstairs and tells you to meet him when you’re ready.

You call out to him a few minutes later when you pad your way down the stairs, and he calls back from a room you haven’t been in yet. When you walk in, he’s standing at the kitchen counter, setting out a bottle of wine. There are fresh flowers in a vase- Jack had said he’d ordered groceries to be delivered, and he must’ve gotten those, too. It’s a sweet touch.

You walk into the middle of the room and look around, a bit in awe. It faces towards the lake, with a large sitting area connected to the open concept kitchen. The lights are low and warm. Along the back wall, there are floor to ceiling picture windows, giving you the perfect view of the icy lake, the snow covered sloping bank, and the houses that dot the shore all around you. Like a postcard, or a hallmark movie. Jack pads his way across the room to you.

“Oh, wow,” you say, quietly.

He nods, his hands falling to your hips from behind as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Pretty, right?”

You nod. It’s beautiful. Peaceful. Still. Quiet. A billion other words pass through your mind. But most of all, it feels safe. Like the whole world could be chasing after you, but here, it’s just you and Jack and the snow. You could run out into it, fall flat on your face, and there’d be nobody there to see it. Or to care.

“Can we go out in it?” You ask him, carefully. Not wanting to break the calm. “It looks so-“

“Yeah,” he agrees, eagerly. “I think we’ve got a pair of boots that’ll fit you.”

Ten minutes later, you waddle through snowdrifts that cover your calves in boots one size too big. You can’t bring yourself to care about the snow in your socks, or the notifications on your phone, or the fact that by now, they’ve probably figured out who Jack is. Because Jack is standing in front of you, and you know who he is far more than they ever will.

He’s the kind of person who stays.

He lobs a snowball at you. It hits your shoulder and crumbles, and he laughs. Pure, loud, happy. You reach down with your mismatched mittens, stolen from their bin of miscellaneous outdoor gear, and form one of your own. You look at him, lining up your aim. Look at his flushed cheeks, his wide grin, the way the snow sticks to his hair and melts on his nose.

“Come on baby,” he says, taunting, arms spread wide. “Hit me with your best shot.”

You drop the poorly formed snowball at your feet and launch yourself at him instead. He’s laughing again by the time you both hit the ground, the snow cushioning his fall. He laughs more when he rolls you over and pins you under him. There’s snow seeping down the back of your shirt, and it makes you shiver. And then he kisses you, and the cold doesn’t matter anymore.

Nothing does, except this.

He’s never kissed you anywhere close to the public, both of you too cautious. So much of your relationship has been hidden away. You’d never had a chance like this in New York- no kissing in the rain, under streetlights, no cheek kisses between glasses of wine at fancy restaurants, no holding hands while you walk down the street. But now you’re out under the cloudy sky, surrounded by peace and quiet, and he’s kissing you. You never want to leave this place.

You shiver, again, and he laughs into the kiss. When he pulls away, his eyes are sparkling. You think yours are too.

“Come on,” he says. “We should get you warm before you catch hypothermia.”

He suggests a shower. You agree eagerly and pull him under the spray with you. The cold melts away, along with the rest of your worries.

Later, you’ll drink wine and make dinner and watch some old movie he’s been insisting you need to see. Later, you'll curl up basically on top of him in bed, surrounded by him, feeling more at peace than you have in months. Tomorrow, he’ll wake up before you do, and come back with coffee from his favorite place in town, and wake you up in bed with it, made just the way you like. And you’ll look at him and thank him. Not just for the coffee, but for bringing you to a place that means so much to him. For letting you in on his little bit of comfort.

You won’t have to say it out loud. He’ll already know.

[numberonetribble]

Some Continuation Errors and Other Hmmmm's I spotted in TF One! (this is for funsies!)

- When Orion broadcasts the news to Iacon we hear Sentinel say, "I'm working my miners as hard as I can, I swear I will get you the rest!" Revisiting the scene, he doesn't say this!

Instead the closest we get is; "I know what I promised you, but our mines, they're running out! There's barely enough Energon for us! I swear I will get you the rest!"

Which the miner line is super raw, I really like it, but why would they cut it? Maybe it's to convey to the audience that things are even bleaker ON TOP of the Quintessants being there? It's an interesting choice to keep both lines in!

- Staying in this scene, Orion plays the "I took his cog for myself." line. He was not there for that. Unless he'd digging around in her memories and this is first and foremost in her brain, he wouldn't know to look for it. Which also, it took me several rewatches for me to figure out WHY he thought she was the key. Thing is, other than that first line, he plays lines that he personally witnessed, Orion did not need her memories for this plan to work. Maybe one could argue he wanted hers as his would be considered bias to the public and Sentinel's Right Hand's are undeniable. But the citizens don't see that.

- During the race we see Elita moving crates around as if she's at work. Sentinel said that there would be NO work for all shifts. Yes she's a workaholic. However, she's not alone. There's at least two other bots working with her. Maybe they're also workaholics? Maybe their supervisor told them no you still have to work?

My only guess, it's the next day and they're trying to get those trains loaded as Sentinel has a delivery scheduled. However, these trains should've been prepped and ready to go WAY before this. It's too important to leave last minute. At MOST D-16 and Orion are in the infirmary for a day. They're un-cogged and barely injured, during triage they would've been put last to attend to. So at best, Sentinel is back for 2 days before leaving again. Not nearly enough time to load that many trains.

- When we meet B-127 he says that the new Shift Manager doesn't like distractions. We the audience know he's referencing Elita. She's been there for maybe 2 days. (This isn't really a Continuation Error more like, really interesting? It implies that the timeline was different in an earlier draft as that's very fast for her to establish herself to this division especially during a national holiday. Sure she's the kind of person who would but, you know, this is for funsies)

- The opening narration tells us the audience that the Matrix is needed for Energon to flow. Orion knows this, the citizens know this. Sentinel sees it as an object that can be taken and dismissed the lore of how it works. But why make this recording?? Maybe it was for new Sparklings to watch on their first day alive, but it's in the Archives now. Orion hadn't seen it before, meaning it got phased out. Why not destroy it?

Orion is so insistent that there might be data to help Sentinel, but he never stops to think that Sentinel already knows everything in that Archive.

These are just some thoughts I've been chewing on! I've been watching it everyday after work and these are what stick out to me the most. It's still a really good movie and I love it alot I just want to talk about this stuff 👉👈

[mymegrokosmos]

coffee dates with seungkwan are your favourite. he's always late but it gives you the chance to take your time, lingering on the menu and finding a nice table where you can watch the people walking by. you like sitting on the patio. partly because it gives your boyfriend the freedom to be as loud as he wants while he vents about his day and fills you in on any new drama happening on set. partly because it's usually a good way to get him to sit closer or to end up bundled into his sweater or jacket.

you can’t complain. well, you could but why would you want to? the view is nice and he always pays. one thing about dating boo seungkwan is that you're absolutely spoiled. you get the princess treatment every day and you couldn’t feel luckier.

"y/n, love?"

you blink at the sound of your name, turning from where you were watching a cute little dachshund in a sweater to find your boyfriend hovering over you. he stands beside your chair, eyebrows slightly furrowed as you push away your thoughts, sweep away the mind cobwebs of whatever daydream you were stuck in for a minute, and smile up at him.

"hi kwannie, have you been there long?"

he shakes his head, sliding into his seat across the small table from you and trying to see what you're looking at. you laugh softly and nod towards the puppy.

"cute, right? look at his little boots."

seungkwan just shakes his head but he's smiling as he picks up the iced americano you ordered for him, using his card of course because he sulks every time you try to pay for coffee on your own delivery or order ahead apps.

"a little silly but I guess it's probably practical."

you nod, sipping your iced latte. "mm, I imagine a lot of things are much harder and more inconvenient when you're that small living in a world made for much bigger beings and you can't even speak to them about it. not in a way that we understand well at least."

your boyfriend just blinks at you. "I've left you alone with Dino and Vernon too often."

you rest your chin on one hand and blink back at him. "and what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?"

"you're spewing scenarios other people would never think of because you're bored. there are so many people you could be watching right now and instead you decided that, while waiting for the love of your life to arrive and grace you with the blessing that is his presence, you wanted to wonder what it would be like to live as a dachshund for day."

you considered this. "okay, fair point. however, I stand by my decision. it was fun."

seungkwan sips his coffee. you smile.

"how was your day handsome?"

and just like that, you fall into easy conversation. the words always flow with seungkwan. the rhythm is soothing, familiar, and when he gets up to drape his sweater over your shoulder after you shiver one too many times (one, that's already too many in his mind why are you even cold to begin with the weather should just immediately conform to your every whim frankly) it feels like home.

you smile, slipping your arms through the sleeves of the thick hoodie and snuggling into the leftover warmth of seungkwan's body. it smells like him, clean, sharp, citrus and a hint of something slightly woodsy. you blush when you glance up to meet his fond gaze, eyes soft as he watches you with a small smile.

"what?"

he shakes his head and takes another sip of his coffee. "nothing, you're just cute."

you scrunch your nose up at him and he laughs. you sip your drink and stretch your legs out, foot just brushing his ankle before you sit back again.

"ready to head home?"

he nods. "we're still on for dinner together, right? and a movie? I already told jeonghan hyung to clear out for the evening."

you nod, smiling as he offers you a hand up. "mm, you know we are. that sounds perfect. please tell me you're making those mimosas you tried out last week?"

his hand moves to rest on your lower back, guiding you back through the restaurant and out into the world again. you lean into him as you cross the street, head resting against his shoulder just slightly as you walk close enough to bump hips every few steps. neither of you moves to fix that. you just smile and let it happen.

"i'm making pizza, mingyu helped me prepare it all ready to pop in the oven when we get back. I just need to preheat it first and use that pizza stone he got us for Christmas."

"ooh what kind of pizza."

"I hope you like margherita."

you nod. "that sounds perfect kwan."

and it is. domestic seungkwan is one of your favourite sides of him. you like when he gets to relax like this. seeing him in comfy clothing, bare faced and with his hair all fluffy from running his hands through it. you sip your drink and watch as he shuffles around the kitchen, humming along to the playlist he put on and you move to light some candles.

it gets dark so early in autumn and while his apartment gets great light, his walls of windows can't compensate for a sun already fully sunken on the horizon. you find yourself smiling as he puts the pizza in the oven and sets the timer, reaching over to pull you into him and spinning you both around the kitchen.

you just watch as he sings to you, swaying with him as you dance to the rest of the song before stilling. his hands rest comfortably on your hips, like they belong there. they do, you think so at least. his expression is soft again, happy, and you can't help leaning up to kiss him.

"what was that for?"

you mirror his words from earlier. "you're just cute."

he sighs. "what am I going to do with you darling?"

you grin. "keep me, I hope."

and just like that you fall into the arms, and charms, of the one and only boo seungkwan. yet again. like you always do. because there's nothing that melts your heart quite like the smile on his face and the sparkle in those eyes. his happiness is truly the most beautiful thing you've ever witnessed, and you want nothing more than to keep being a part of it for as long as he'll let you share in this. in these moments.

in this laughter. in this lifetime of soft, safe, warm, genuine love. the kind no one ever warns you is addicting. the kind that doesn't judge. okay so maybe a little bit. but it's worth all the hard moments, every fight or argument, every little speed bump you have to overcome on the way. it's all worth it when you get to come home to this.

unconditional love, thy name is boo seungkwan and thou art everything.

[daswithoucri]

This is in response to @theinvisibledavis talking about (misogynistic) people attacking Kat, because they don't like Earth (as well as other female characters), and how they think that "the writing of the shows are bad"

Let me start with this: Before TSAMS and LAES, I haven't watched anything in a long time. Because personally, I am not a big fan of TV series, nor do I watch a lot of movies. But these shows and their characters have captured me. I have watched every single sams video this year, during a time span of about half a year (And let me tell you, my mental health was down the drain earlier this year. A day, where I could watch 12 videos in a row, felt just amazing to me. I am now in a much better and stable state. And TSBS has always been there along the way, as a means of comfort.) .

Now I am doing the same with LAES, and I am not any less interested in it. Their videos make me laugh my guts out, make me bawl my eyes out, or simply just let me relax and calm down after a long day at work. And it's all for free! With practically an unlimited amount of content! I, for a fact, know that I am not gonna run out of new videos to watch anytime soon. They upload daily after all! I am 100% sure, that I have still about 2 years worth left to watch. And with the continues uploads, it's probably more like 4 or even 5 years. And it's all just at the grasp of our hands! All of it!

I can't imagine how much blood, sweat and tears the actors must have put into their channels. This takes so much dedication, we can't even imagine the stress they must and have been going through, to make these shows and this fandom a reality! So we all must be grateful for their hard work. What is a few minutes of entertainment for us, is hours of work for them. We need to be thankful and show our support. It's the least that we can do.

So thank you Kat, Davis, Reed, Matt and all the other VAs of other shows that I haven't gotten to know yet. Thank you for your dedication to my and many other people's favourite shows. ❤

And @queenkatluv, if you ever read this: I hope you are okay and that your mental health hasn't taken too much of a blow from all the unnecessary hate, or that you will quickly recover from it. It must be difficult, but try to not take their mean words to heart. I don't have to listen to what they say, nor will I ever, because I know from the beginning on, that what they say is simply not fact. I don't really interact with the fandom, but they gotta be just the vocal minority. I'm sure the majority loves you and Earth.

You are amazing! Your acting is amazing! Your characters are amazing! Your writing is amazing! You deserve to rest well and take it easy. Eat your favorite meal as much as you wish. Have a nice bubble bath, or take a walk in nature if you prefer. Or both! Spend time with those that do you good. You deserve it all times infinity, because you are simply just amazing.

Earth is always so kind, helpful and empathetic towards others. What would she say to you? I'm sure you'll know, because you know her the best.

(Oh an by the way, the quality of The Vampire's Bride is chef's kiss to me. It's like a TV show, but the good kind.)

[the-cactus-taco]

Inspired by the lovely works of @zuzuelectricbugaloo, I have decided to write a little fluff fic about error and the outliers from my au Mirrorverse.

Romance featured: bad sanses poly

Cw: mentions of body horror

Probably gonna make are for this later but I wanted to post it now.

Also apologies for any spelling mistakes I didn’t catch

Cuddle cocoon

Error wasn’t claustrophobic, he actually quite liked tight cozy spaces. He just didn’t like them with people he didn’t know. Being in a small closed off room with a stranger would almost certainly crash him. But being close to is friends was the thing he loved the most.

The feeling of pulling his partners flush against his chest, so close their souls were almost intertwined. The smell of bone and that day’s adventure. The warmth of their breath. The sound of loud purring echoed in is mind. He couldn’t get enough. It made his head go warm. The pure euphoria of simply being known by someone, and held in their arms.

Error was having a bad day when his partners invited him for a movie night. They were already waiting for him on the couch when he arrived. Nova invited the glitch to lay in his lap. An offered he graciously accepted. Flopping down and getting comfortable, he pulled himself close to nova’s chest. Wrapping his arms around the other’s Back. The dryad let out a low pleasant rumble as he watched error melt into him.

Nova ran his fingers down the back of error’s head. Error beginning to purr softly. The glitch began to drift as he listened to the soft hum of the other’s soul. Not quite asleep not quite awake. In his daze, instinct took over, as several spider like legs grew and glitched from his back. His new limbs began to wrap around nova’s body. Before spinning a thread from error’s face, and beginning to deftly wrap the other in string.

The couch erupted in quiet “aww~” form his other partners. Nova looked down at the him with a chuckle, and began to fiddle with the pointed glitchs on the back of error’s head. Nova’s voice was as smooth and low as always “Wake up my dear~ you’re wrapping me up again~” nova chuckled to himself a bit more as error slowly woke. “Aw no, that was adorable! Let him finish!” Killer blurted out.

The moment error realized what he had done, he began profusely apologizing and removing the strings. “Hush now my love. You did nothing wrong.” Nova cooed. Placing a hand on error’s cheek.

Hurting his partners was one of error’s greatest fears. And error could never banish the thought that he was wrapping them up so he could eat them. Like a hungry spider, encasing its prey before injecting them with its venom. Melting the creature alive and drinking the body.

The thought sent shivers down error’s spine. The comparison hurting even more knowing that error actually had venom. Two types to be precise. The first, injected from his fangs, would lull its target into a deep, restful sleep. The other… injected from his rarely summoned second set of arms, would pump its target with so much determination and raw creativity… It could liquify humans and monsters alike.

Error promised himself, no matter how corrupt his code, he would never, ever, use is second type of venom. The thought of melting someone alive was horrific. And no matter how many times he tries, the thought always crosses his mind when he would wrap up his friends.

Never. He would never dream of doing that to his parters.

Error shook is head. Trying to push down the thought. “Hey… rue…” horror’s deep baritone voice knocked error from his spiral.

The glitch looked to his friend on the other side of the couch. “Could I be next…” error looked confused “next for what…?”

Horror sheepishly look away “being all… tied up…”

Error’s face flushed with all the colors of the rainbow. “You’d… want that…?” Error always thought of his wrapping as kinda gross. But his partners actually seemed to find it… endearing. “Of course dude! Who wouldn’t wanna be wrapped into a cocoon by their giant spider boyfriend!!” Kills cut in. Dust nodded in agreement as horror chuckled. Error froze, trying to process.

Killer posed the question “wait— if we all wanna be in a snuggle cocoon with rue… what if you made on big enough for all of us?” The glitch paused. “Would you all… want that?” He said breathlessly. “Of course error! We’d love to cuddle with you~” nova replied. A deep warmth grew in error’s chest. None of his teammates could break his strings. If he fully ensnared any of them, they would be completely trapped. And yet… they yearned to be trapped by him. To simply be with him. Together.

Error’s blush was bright as he spoke. “I can do that.” Killer pumped his fist in the air, horror excitedly clapped, and dust and nova have him the warmest smiles.

Error pried himself away from his lovers and off of the couch. Going to his room and retrieving his largest hammock. He decided it would easier if he started with a solid foundation. He laid the hammock out on the ground in front of the couch. And after confirming no one needed the bathroom or was hungry, error spoke again “alright… uh— everyone get comfortable, and then I’ll start.”

They all giggled and chirped excitedly as they laid down on the floor together. Nova and horror were on the outside, killer and dust in the middle, with a spot in the dead center saved for error. The glitch was still afraid. Afraid of what would happen when he actually closed them all in. Would they freak out? Would it not be what they hoped? So he asked again “Are you guys sure about this?” And again, his partners reassured him. Hooting about how they were “ready when you are!” And “let’s get this rolling!” So… error began to close them off.

Starting at the top and moving down, the glitch used his long spider like legs to close up the hammock into a large cocoon, with strings connecting it to the ceiling. He left a small hole for him to climb in, before sealing it up from the inside. Error crawled over to the center of the cuddle pile. Once there, he pulled at the strings on his face, and suddenly, the cocoon pulled itself into the air.

Once they were all suspended a far distance off the ground, error finally relaxed. Killer pulled him close, so close the other’s floating soul pushed against his chest. “Your amazing, you know that glitchy?” He said with a wistful sigh. “What a wonderful work of art you are~” nova added, leaning to rub the back of error’s head. Error began to purr loudly, starting a domino effect the ended in every one of them purring to the best of their abilities. Dust was incapable of purring outright, but as he pulled error’s back flush against his chest, the glitch could hear a small rustling sound emanating from them.

His partners were all so close to him now, the weightless feeling of being hung in the air, slightly swaying back and forth, only enhancing the feeling. The strings around them were warm, but let in a surprising amount of air flow. Keeping the inside perfectly comfortable. Killer began caressing error’s curves. Whispering sweetnesses in his ear before leaning down and biting the glitches neck. Error yipped, causing horror to giggle. The larger skeleton reaching over to pet the side of error skull. It was only then when error felt nova’s tentacles winding around him, pulling them all impossibly closer.

It was as if nothing else existed. It was only him, and his lovers. Here, together.

The others talked and giggled to each other, purring all the while. Surrounded by the people he adored the most, close and connected. Error was in love. So incredibly, undoubtedly in love. It radiated his soul. Warm and soft like his friends touch.

The glitch closed his eyes, and soaked it all in. Melting into his partners hold.

[ironyscleverer]

Doctor Who as a Post-Colonial Metaphor

Recently I've been thinking a lot about how beautifully Doctor Who reflects the state of post-colonial British identity, and tumblr seems like the appropriate place to share my ramblings. So let’s see if I can explain in a way that makes sense.

I must start by putting on my obnoxious little film degree hat and reminding everyone that sci-fi is one of those genres that is highly political (as most things are, but scifi even moreso). It turns out it's pretty easy to get a sense of people's fears and anxieties by asking them to envision the future, and that's what sci-fi media does; it uses contemporary cultural standards and ideas to create a vision of what futuristic/advanced science and technology might look like, and how people might respond to it. In doing so, it ends up taking the social and political temperature of the time and place in which it's created.

As such, it's very, very common for scholars to analyze sci-fi media through this lens; even Frankenstein, arguably the first science fiction novel ever written, is often interpreted as reflecting cultural fears regarding swiftly advancing science and technology during the early stages of the industrial revolution. The Day The Earth Stood Still (1951) is another great, very blatant example of how sci-fi and politics can interact. In this movie, a Jesus-like alien ascends to Earth during the Cold War to warn the human race about their imminent nuclear annihilation. It seems corny to us now, but it's actually a great movie and I would highly reccomend it. It's rumored that the US Department of Defense read the script and Did Not Like It because the themes were too anti-war.

In other words, despite often being viewed as too “pop,” too goofy, and too unserious to have any deep meaning, pretty much any scifi story can be analyzed within an inch of its life using a meta social/political lens. It's not the only way to interpret sci-fi, but it's by far the most common. One must simply ask, “what does this vision of science, technology, and/or the future say about us as we are now?”

But anyway. Doctor Who. Disclaimer: I haven't watched the classic series so I'll focus on 2005 onward (still post-colonial so it still holds up, lol). If you've seen Classic and you'd like to chip in, please do.

Genre-wise, Doctor Who is more-or-less a space-western, a subgenre of sci-fi that incorporates Western elements—exploring new frontiers, engaging with unfamiliar civilizations, rogue figures, etc. Star Trek is the peak example of this, but there are many, many others.

Of course, the Western genre is dripping with colonialism due to its historical setting of the American West, and the racist depictions of Indigenous peoples. Space-westerns, consequently, also tend to address colonial topics. Sometimes space westerns are just as racist as normal westerns, but sometimes they use the genre reflexively, to question colonial ideals. A more progressive space-western might be more willing to “humanize” the alien cultures they meet, asking questions like, "how does one ethically engage with foreign societies?" or "When is it appropriate to intervene in a conflict?" etc.

Althought these kinds of questions come up regularly in Doctor Who, especially regarding its anti-war messaging (Time War etc.). These themes become doubly interesting when you use them to inform your interpretation of The Doctor, both as a character and as a symbol.

Consider this: The Doctor is the embodiment of an ancient and immensely powerful being with a bloody history. Their kill-count is quite literally somewhere in the quadrillions. Although they are a self-proclaimed pacifist, they are still constantly a perpetrator of death and destruction throughout the series. The Doctor, despite repeatedly and loudly choosing peace, can never seem to keep their hands clean of chaos and suffering. Doctor Who is about an entity that destroys everything they touch, sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. As an allegory for grappling with the legacy of British imperialism, I'd say it's pretty on the nose.

In this sense, not only is Doctor Who a show about colonialism, it is also a show about identity in the wake of colonialism. It's even in the name: "Doctor Who?" Who is the Doctor? What is their responsibility to the universe? What does it mean to be ancient and powerful and drenched in the blood of millions? How do they move on, become better, without falling into the same traps? What does it mean to be British?

These questions come up over and over throughout the new series, from the destruction of Gallifrey, to the Timelord Victorious, to A Good Man Goes to War, the Flux (arguably), and many, many other smaller plotlines I could mention. Even in the latest series with Ncuti Gatwa, the focus on adoption and family is in a similar vein—where does the Doctor come from? What does it even mean to be “from” a place? How much do your origins truly contribute to who you are and who you become?

How the companions fall within this framework is also interesting; if the Doctor is a stand-in for the nation as an entity, then the Doctor's companion, the everyday British person, is the stand-in for the populace. The companions are ever-changing, ever-evolving, constantly renegotiating their relationship with the Doctor. The companion's ultimate challenge is to find how they fit into the narrative of the Doctor's life, and try their best to come out the other end with a happy ending (ha).

Of course, Doctor Who is owned by the BBC, meaning it is quite literally nationally subsudized TV. It is all but directly approved by the British government. As a result, althought the show is actually VERY critical in some places, the Doctor is usually ultimately sympathetic; their good intentions tend to forgive a lot of the problems they've caused. The companion is usually charmed by the Doctors' seemingly endless tragedy of a life. This is a country's state-owned media company working with it's own self-image--it's inherently a work of self-reflection, and perhaps of self-obsession, too.

It would be easy to be cynical about Doctor Who as a product of the BBC, which is state-funded (but notably not owned or directly controlled by the government!). However, I tend to think that just writing it off as propaganda because of this is doing the show a disservice. Yes, there is an inherent privilege and self-centeredness to endlessly forgiving the Doctor, but that's also kind of the whole point; it's a show about coming to terms with one's horrible past. It's a show about learning to formulate a new sense of self. To demand that Doctor Who to be less self-obsessed, to not be about British identity when it is in fact a British show for Brits about Brits, is just a bit unrealistic.

Instead, I choose to believe that Doctor Who can and does use its privilege for good more often than not. The creators tend to be very progressive (as sci-fi so often is) and they can get away with a lot of very progressive messages in the guise of a silly sci-fi show for families. Most recently, I would point to s14e3: Boom, s14e5: Dot and Bubble as examples of thinly veiled rants about the evils of capitalism, war, racism, social media, etc. To ignore or dismiss Doctor Who because it has some form of institutional backing would be doing the actual stories and writers a disservice.

Finally, let me leave you with one last point; One consistancy throughout the new series that I find very charming is the positive effect the companions always have on the Doctor. Companions come and go, which is sad, but they're each special in their own little way, and they each change the Doctor, wearing them down a little at a time. The Doctor is consistently at their worst when they are alone, removed from the people that make them want to be better.

Very often the companion's parting message for the Doctor is "don't be alone.” This can be extrapolated to mean: don't forget we exist. Don't forget to be kind. Even if you can't help your legacy, even if you can't wash the blood off your hands, you can always keep striving to be better. Keep someone around to remind you to be better. And the Doctor, more often than not, does. Because ultimately it is the companions, us the people, that make the Doctor who they are.

It’s this special brand of relentless optimism, this indomitable belief in the goodness of people and the power of that goodness that always brings me back to Doctor Who, one way or another, despite all its flaws.

Edit 11/29: corrected some info about the BBC per the comments!

[annaphoenix1994]

Vague History

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

With alien dryness irritating her eyes, Kiera slowly sat up in the bed, slowly realizing that it was now dusk. Have I been asleep that long? 

Seeing that Simon wasn't next to her, she began to wonder what had happened between the time Malcolm had come to the ranch and when she had gotten home, remembering that she was distraught about one of the many war stories she had told her father, except this one was the worst. Sighing, she forced herself to exit the bed, her mouth dry and her stomach growling for something to be inside of it. 

Almost as soon as she made it to the bedroom door, Simon was walking her direction with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a can of Dr. Pepper in the other. Oh, babe, you're speaking a love language doing that, she smiled to herself. "Since when do you eat popcorn?"  

"I asked you if you wanted some when I got up, love," He replied, his brows furrowing at her confusion. "I asked if you wanted anything when I got up and you said popcorn and one of these. Figured I'd put on a movie while you were sleeping." 

"Oh." She said, looking to the floor as her mind swarmed for an answer as to when she asked him for popcorn. 

"Do you not remember?"

She shook her head and rolled her shoulders in search of relief, sighing as Simon set the bowl of popcorn on the foot of the bed as well as the can of soda, frowning at the bags under her eyes and how red they stayed from her time of shedding tears. "Are you alright, love?" He asked, cupping her cheeks and locking his eyes with hers. He knew immediately that she was still dwelling on the past, wishing he hadn't asked if she was okay knowing that she would think about the struggles she was battling within her own head. 

"Y-Yeah," She replied, nodding her head that was still nestled in his hands. "How long was I asleep?"

"A good few hours. You needed it and more," He assured her. "I've been up for an hour." 

"Shit," She grumbled, shaking her head. "I should go down and feed the horses-"

"Don't worry about it. I did it." 

"You did? You? Mister I don't like horses?" She breathed a giggle. 

"Never said I didn't like them," He grinned. "I just don't like how they make my, you know, feel after I get off." 

"Well, I wouldn't know what that feels like, but thank you." 

"You're welcome, love. I need the experience." 

"Why?" 

"Because if I'm in your life, so is your livestock," He shrugged. "I'm here for all of it, sweetheart." 

He watched her blush, noticing how she leaned closer to him to press her head against his chest, inhaling his warm and inviting scent - something she was eager to wake up to for the rest of her life. His arms wrapped around her, kissing the top of her head as her grip on him was of something that reminded him of reassurance. He knew she was hurt in the worst way possible. 

Her state of mind. 

Which he was all-too familiar with. 

"What time is it?" He heard her mumble into his chest, enjoying his warmth too much to lean back and check the time herself. 

"A quarter past nine, love." He replied, his thumb rubbing the small of her back. She nodded, forcing herself to pull back to go to the bathroom and proceed with her usual routine. 

"I'm going to freshen up." 

"I figured that's what you were doing." 

She turned to look at him from the bathroom, a toothbrush in her hand and a confused look on her face, "What else would I be doing?" 

A sly smirk splayed across his face, "Well, considering you didn't know where you were when I woke you up, I figured you were thinking the bed was in there." 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she watched him lay on his side of the bed, his arm behind his head as he crossed his ankles. "Might have to eventually get a new bed. Your feet are about to drape off the end of it." She poked. 

"No, it's because you have thirty pillows on here." He replied, turning on the television. 

"Can't help it. Especially when it feels like I'm sleeping on a rock." She retorted, referring to his muscled chest. 

"That's why you sleep up against me every night, yeah?" 

"Because if I don't, you'll be upset." 

"Keep telling yourself that, love," He chuckled, putting a piece of popcorn in his mouth. "I just won't cuddle you anymore if that's the case-"

"No," He watched her pout, thinking it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. "I was just playing." 

"So was I," He smirked. "Or was I?" 

He knew he was helping distract her from her haunting thoughts, hoping it was helping as he did the same thing with Johnny when he was nervous while being isolated at times during a mission, always being the one to tell jokes over the comm to help keep him from feeling truly alone. 

He browsed around on her Netflix account, not finding anything of interest until he felt Kiera's presence closing in on him, feeling her move to where she was on top of him before going to nestle herself into his side, the smell of fresh mint on her breath and coconut dry shampoo in her hair. 

Naturally, her palm rested on his chest, ignoring the smell of popcorn but unable to resist the urge to drink the Dr. Pepper he had brought for her, waiting a few moments before sitting up to reach for it on the side table and moving to sit indian-style on the bed. "What're we watching?" 

"You tell me, love. I don't watch movies." He sighed, the remote resting on his stomach as he looked at the back of her head before glancing down to her back, imagining how well her skin was healing from the grafts. 

"Don't put that decision in my hands," She giggled. "I like watching scary movies. What about you?" 

"Don't ever recall watching one," He shrugged. "I told you - I don't watch movies." 

"Never seen a scary movie?" She smirked, looking over her shoulder. 

"No."

"Too scared?" 

He scoffed, placing his hand on the small of her back, "I can handle being in an active warzone being shot at and bombs going off, but watching a scary movie is where I draw the line." He retorted in a sarcastic tone.

"I know of something that does scare you." 

"Well, please tell me so I can know when I should hide under the bed." 

She smiled, setting the can of Dr. Pepper aside before nestling herself against his side, the familiar warmth of her mint-tinted breath drawing his face to look at her. "You were scared of loving me." 

He sighed, pulling her closer to his chest as he broke his gaze to look up at the ceiling, his eyes dazing in thought. "No I wasn't." 

"Mhm." She teased.

"I was afraid of losing you." 

His words caught her attention, Simon feeling her head straighten to look at him, knowing that the conversation was not teasing like it was prior. 

This was serious. 

"Why?" 

"I've experienced plenty of loss in my life, Kiera, but I've never been in love," He sighed, the thoughts of his mother, brother and nephew entering his mind, wishing they were still around for her to meet, knowing his mother would absolutely adore Kiera. Briefly, he thought about how Kiera would interact with his nephew, eager to see her motherly instincts. "I couldn't help the way I felt when you and I got close, but I wanted to push you away." 

She hummed in question. 

"Because everybody I kept close to me was taken." his breathing shuddered, having a sense that she was about to ask why, but to his surprise, she didn't.

Which was one thing he was appreciative about - her patience with him. 

"I'm sorry." She frowned, the pads of her fingers feathering against his sternum, soon feeling his hand covering hers. 

"Nothing to be sorry about, love. It's not your fault as to why my life is so fucked up." 

She didn't reply, truly having nothing to say as she knew her reply would spark nothing but a negative comment back. "I don't think your life is fucked up, Simon." 

"Believe me, it is," He sighed, bringing her palm up to his lips. "But you've kept me distracted from it. Although I'm reminded of it every night when I try to sleep." 

"I understand that." She replied, recalling her own nightmares. 

"I know." 

Her brows furrowed, "Do... Do I keep you up?"

"Sometimes," He replied. "But it doesn't bother me. I'm surprised I don't keep you up, but considering you sleep like a rock, I'm not surprised." 

She giggled, "Well, I'm sorry if I keep you up." 

"It's nothing to worry about," He sighed. "Are you going to pick a movie or not?" He poked. 

"I just might." 

She ended up picking "The Conjuring", the movie being one that genuinely freaked her out, but she wasn't going to let Simon know that, although she could tell that he was weirded out by the doll in the beginning, stating that he'd "sling it through the wall" if he ever got a doll like that as a gift. 

She couldn't blame him.

Her palm stayed on his chest, rubbing soothing circles against his shirt as he would be the one to drop a piece of popcorn in her mouth every now and then, enjoying her soothing touch as he felt the absence of it was enough to send him into emotional overdrive. If you only knew how much head over heels I am for you, love, he would think every time she made a comment about a particular scene in the movie, occasionally feeling her jump at random scenes. 

Once the popcorn was gone, leaving nothing but leftover kernels in the bottom of the bowl, Simon kept his mind busy by toying with her hand, his thumb rubbing her ring finger like he always did, except it was her opposite hand that splayed on his chest. 

Instead of focusing his attention to the movie, his eyes stayed fixated on the scars on her knuckles and the top of her hand, his finger grazing over them gently, wondering the story behind them. 

"That one was from a knife fight." She answered him, taking notice of how his fingers grazed her skin, keeping her eyes towards the television. 

"Hope he lost." 

She chuckled, "Oh, he did. Him and his buddy, too." 

He joined her in a laugh, tracing his finger over the next scar that was on the outside of her wrist. "That one was from another fight. Fell in some glass." 

"Ruthless," He sighed, looking over at her to place a warm kiss to her forehead, noticing a faint scar on her hairline. "How'd you get this one?" 

"My face met with a wall. Not my idea," She shook her head. "Thought that fucker had me, but I got my way out of it." She continued, running her hand across his chest, feeling the scar on his left pectoral he had already told her about, tracing it with her finger before her hand traveled to his side, feeling an abnormal dip that was invisible to the eye, but foreign to the touch. "What happened to get this one?" 

He sighed, covering her hand over his ribcage and moving it back to lay on his chest, "Another time, love." 

Truly, he didn't want to recall how he had matching indentions on either side of his ribcage, nearly wincing at the thought as he swore it was the worst pain he ever had to endure. 

"I-I'm sorry." She frowned, curling her fingers into her palm, afraid to continue.

"It's okay, that's a story for another day," He assured her, keeping his haunting thoughts at bay before giving her his full attention to distract himself. "How long is left of this movie?" He asked, changing the subject.

"I'd say an hour," She sighed. "Although I probably won't make it 'til the end of the movie." 

"You need to rest," He said blankly. "We can always turn it off-"

"It's whatever you decide. Not like you're going to make it through to the end of the movie anyway with how heavy those eyelids look." 

»»-------¤-------««

Malcolm sat on his leather sofa, enjoying a glass of Wild Turkey as his enraged mind was desperate to distract his adrenaline from earlier. Loosening the bolo tie from around his neck, he began to wonder where he took his wrong turn in life, causing him to not only lose his marriage as well as rights to see his child, but also getting himself into yet another line of fire after coming home from the failed mission in Mexico. 

Unlike Kiera, Malcolm liked to rethink the times he had in battle, a smirk toying on his face as he would replay his best kills in his mind, taking pride in it.

Even though some of those kills were with ally forces. 

Licking his lips free of leftover bourbon, he peered down to his ringing phone, sighing at the caller ID before answering. "Yeah?" 

"It's been a few days, Malcolm," Shepherd scolded over the phone, a weight in his voice - clear that he was aggravated. "What's going on?" 

"Things like this take time, General. But it's not going easy, that's for sure." 

"What do you mean?" 

Malcolm sighed, "She found out I flew the plane, General. That's what I mean." 

A brief pause. 

"I need you to clarify." 

"I don't know how much clearer I can get," Malcolm scoffed. "She found out the plane was yours and that I flew it. She paid me a visit at my office the other day." 

"I'm afraid this is a problem that needs to be taken care of rather quickly," Shepherd grit. "I'm going to send you someone. And when he gets there, you two take care of it. Got me?" 

"Affirmative, but it's not going to be easy-"

"That's why I called you in the first place, Lieutenant," Shepherd corrected. "Do it like how I used to do in the service: send a message to the enemy, get them angry enough to come after you, then you demolish them at once." 

"Sounds tactical." Malcolm scoffed, knowing Shepherd's words were easier said than done. 

"It is tactical, son," Shepherd shouted. "I'm keeping this in your hands. Remember who you work for." He reminded, the words bringing realization to Malcolm that he couldn't just say no and back out due to Shepherd's blackmail on the Lieutenant, both of them being equally guilty in their career of war crimes, Malcolm's most recent being participating in the slaughter of the citizens of Las Almas on that rainy night, the thought chilling him to the bone every time it crossed his mind. 

"Yes, sir." 

"Good. Now that we're on the same page, do as I suggest. Send a message. Have her so mad and tearing at the seams to get to you, then take her out. It's that simple." 

It's really not, Malcolm thought, knowing exactly who he was about to fight against. I don't know who I dread fighting more: her or that boyfriend looming over her.

"I'll get to it first thing in the morning." 

"As soon as possible would be preferable, son. We don't have much time." 

Don't fucking call me that, Malcolm grimaced. "Who are you even sending me?" 

Shepherd breathed a laugh, "You'll see. Be sure to hit her where it hurts. Put some thought into this, Lieutenant. I've got your back." 

We'll see about that. 

[vegan-peppermint]

SFW and NSFW what dating Jeff would be like <3

Dating Jeff the Killer would include

Both SFW and NSFW

You can find the rest of the creeps here

Nsfw CW: P in V, unprotected- slight breeding kink?

SFW

Jeff's been stalking you for quite some time before introducing himself

Watching over you as you walk to school

Peaking from the window as you were fighting with your parents

Every now and then, he would find himself coming back to your neighborhood, your street, your house, you.

How many times were you looking aimlessly out the window, having no idea your eyes met his

Until he finally decided to introduce himself to you, on a random Tuesday months ago

Your usual night routine was interrupted by a soft repeating tapping sound coming from the window

Your dates only happen at night

He either helps you out the bedroom window, inviting you to roam the streets in the dark

The two of you are hanging out in empty playgrounds, every so often some other creeps joining you

But most of the time, it was just you two fooling around

Jeff running wide circles around the Merry-go-round, pushing it faster and faster as you grip the bars tightly

You partially screaming at him through uncontrollable laughter as the carousel spins so quick the world dissolves into a whirl of colors and shapes

Jeff spray painting you on random building

Its just a stick man with boobs

Being chased by the police, he runs faster than you

"I don't have to outrun them, I just have to outrun you!" He'd laugh.

You tripped him

Eating junk food in random parking lots

Talking about anything and everything for hours

You never met someone who understands you the way he does

He understands how everything that's happened affects you

He knows how you reacted before you even finish the story

You realise he has been through similar things before

Never getting to have a serious, emotional moment because he starts acting like a clown

When the nights grew colder you would invite him in your room

Cuddling in your bed as you watched movies

Falling asleep in his arms only to be awaken in the middle of the night by his snores

Trying to squeeze out of his arms to get out of bed

Only for his arms to wrap around you to drag you back in

His hands pulling you closer with your back against his chest

He squeezes you tighter murmuring sweet things in your ear

On mornings like this, you take full advantage

NSFW

Swaying your hips as you protest against his grip

Your ass brushing against his morning boner

Him groaning in your ear

"Come on, Jeff~ let me get up" you'd moan pushing your ass against his erection

Jeff getting excited, removing the layers between your soft skin and his eager hands

You act all innocent and clueless as he rubs his bare cock against your ass

One hand getting under your shirt squeezing your breast and tugging at your hardened nipples

You squirm against his cold touch

"Mhm- Stop moving so much!"

You barely register the words as you feel the fat, angry tip pushing past your wet fold

He's too big.

"It h-hurts!" you cry

"Why you moaning so fucking much then?"

He feels better than anything you've ever felt before, your walls stretching to accommodate his size

With a hard thrust he pushed himself inside you completely

He loves it when you scream, the sudden shock of him overwhelming you

"F-fuck, you're so wet, baby,"

He exhales heavily, cock twitching inside you

"No matter how many times I break this pussy, it's so tight every time,"

The moment of stillness passes and he starts pounding into you- slick, wet sounds fill the room

He pants against your ear, his hand creeping between your legs

He slaps your clit sending shivers through your whole body

"Such a pretty fucking cunt,"

His hips press in faster and his cock reaches deeper

You couldn't do anything but grab at the sheets beneath you

You're stuffed to capacity, a sobbing and blabbering mess

"Taking me so well, baby," he grunts. "You were made for me. For my cock."

You reach back to grab a fistful of his hair pulling him into a messy kiss, moaning into his open mouth

He loves feeling the way your gummy walls stretch every time his thick cock enters you

His grip on you tightens, his strong arms caging you

His thrusts get sloppy and needy, his teeth biting your lips

Your eyes roll in the back of your head, toes to curled as your slit tried to squeeze every last drop of cum

He pumps you full, his thrusts not stopping yet

"It's t-too much, ba~Fuck!" You cry as your own orgasm washes over you, but Jeff's not stopping fucking his cum into you

"Deeper," he murmurs like a prayer. "Just take me deeper..."

[viaviavie]

Alright. I feel bad for dropping that angst in you inbox. Hope this makes up for it somewhat.

The Prefect and Ace have been acting weird lately. They‘ve been lost in thought and constantly fighting their own attention span. During lunch for example, Yuu didn’t notice Grim chomping down a majority of their food, and Ace didn’t even try to pick a fight with a classmates that bumped into their table.

It comes to the point where the other freshman pick up on their weird behavior and formulate a plan to get the two out of their slump.

Only once the Prefect and Ace split off from the group, to do who knows what, (Grim is of the convinced that they are Dating. The others have their doubts. („Truly? I can understand from where you come from but the probability of Ace confessing his feelings is nigh impossible“ „He‘d rather be collared than to admit he cares.“ „But why else would they constantly sneak off just the two of them?“)), does the rest start their master plan.

Grim and Deuce are tasked with keeping watch of the lovebirds Duo. They‘re supposed to alert the others if it looks like they are returning to Ramshackle and if possible get them others more time to prepare.

Jack was responsible for getting snacks and drinks organized. (Epel contributed some of his familys apple juice)

Ortho was tasked with organizing entertainment. With his vast knowledge of movies, games and stories this assignment was a no brainer.

Epel and Sebek took it upon themselves to rearrange the entire lobby of Ramshackle so that all of them could comfortably hang out.

By the time Ace, Deuce, Grim and Yuu returned to Ramshackle they were met with a Lobby that looked nothing like it did that same morning.

All of the furniture was moved to the walls to create space in the center of the room where a bunch of mattresses were laid out on the floor. A bit to the side you could see Ortho setting up a projector to watch movie with or Sebek throwing a whole armload of pillows and Duvets from the different dorms onto the mattress floor.

„What’s all of this for?“ asked the prefect seemingly only now regaining conscious thought. „What does it look like? It’s a surprise party. I couldn’t possibly let my Henchman and their friend be mopey all the time. That wouldn’t reflect well on my ability as a great mage.“

„That’s all well and good but curfew is soon and I at least don’t have permission from mister ‘be in bed on time or paint the roses‘ so all of this was kind of useless.“ Ace adds, very useful as per usual.

„You may not have gotten permission yourself, but we got that covered have some faith. Some more easily than others. Leopna just waved Jack off and told him to not get himself killed, Idia simply wished Ortho luck and Lillia basically threw Sebek at us once he got wind of what we were planning.“ Epel explained.

Before Ace or Yuu were able to fully process what was going on, Deuce threw his arms over their shoulders and dragged them onto the mattress fort.

As the rest settled around them and started bickering about what kind of movie they were going to watch, did the Duo start to loosen up a little. Suddenly many of their worries about how they were going to deal with the problems the future would bring were melting away, surrounded by the warmth of their friends.

in reference to this fic

WE LOVE FIRST YEAR BONDING IN THIS HOUSEHOLD !!!

I swear, Grim knows that you held some form of affection for Ace. Ever since Grim noticed that you tend to stare at Ace a little bit longer than anyone else, take care of him more, got that little longing look in your eyes— It's so damn obvious you see Ace as something more than a friend, but Grim doesn't think you will ever confess.

Ace, on the other hand, Grim gets super super annoyed with how protective Ace gets. Wherever Prefect goes, Ace seems to follow ever since the end of Book 4. And since when does Ace share a bed with Prefect?! Grim has complained about this to Deuce so many times, but the poor boy is just as oblivious and thinks its all platonic.

Imagine that this little surprise happens before Book 7, maybe? Ace and Prefect are dreading what's to come, and maybe Prefect is lacking some confidence in surviving this loop. Prefect must've died in the same spot during the overblot, and can't figure out the answer to a dream. Ace's probably losing his mind because he knows he can't do a thing to help Prefect during the overblot.

Maybe when Book 7 is resolved, I may consider the idea of the duo telling the truth for the final loop. Perhaps this get-together happens, but this time, Ace and the Prefect got their heads together and decided that maybe this time, nothing is going to go wrong. They need everyone's help, and perhaps that was the answer this entire time (the power of friendship!)

Sebek is initially taken aback and distraught by the idea of Malleus overblotting, but when he takes the time to reflect on how genuinely tired the Prefect looks, he steels himself to prepare for the worst. When it slips that the Prefect has been dying constantly in the dream realm, however, Sebek does feel a lot of responsibility to keep Prefect safe this time.

Epel considers telling Vil, but he doesn't for your sake. You do not know how much the timeline will change if anyone else finds out about this, and Epel doesn't want to betray that trust. He worries a lot for you though, especially after everything you did to help him in Book 5.

Ortho— I lowkey want to integrate him into the time loop theory. I wanna say that Ortho has felt some time-distortion every reset. He senses that something's wrong every time, but can never pinpoint why. Once the truth comes out, everything finally makes sense. He would tell the duo to place some trust in him to ensure that this loop will lead to a good ending.

Goodness, Deuce is the most relieved. He finally gets some answers and it does make him tear up, thinking about how much pain they both went through, but also that he is trusted enough to cooperate with the plan. He doesn't hold anything against them for keeping it to themselves, and is just there to remind them that they can depend on him.

But ugh, imagine Ace and the Prefect so afraid yet so hopeful for what was to come this time. Perhaps this is the first timeline they have all actively worked together for a good ending. Even if it doesn't turn out correct, at least one of them can carry on with the memory knowing that the first years will always have their back.

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Just watched Wicked part 1 (AWESOME movie, btw, excellent adaptation of the play), so naturally I've been thinking of...

The Bad Batch and their opinions on musicals

Omega: LOVES musicals and was the one to introduce her brothers to them. Sings along with every song and will sometimes dance too, mostly freestyle. Favorite musical: she's finally grown out of her High School Musical phase and is now going through a classics phase, of which her current choice for favorite is Singing in the Rain... but her favorite changes just about every week.

Crosshair: scoffs and rolls his eyes during the entire movie in a (vain) attempt to hide the fact that he knows all the songs and choreography by heart. (His siblings have all seen him practicing in his room when he thinks he's alone, but none of them have called him out on it because they think it's hilarious and they know he'll stop if he finds out they know.) Favorite musical: he doesn't like musicals how many times does he have to say it?? 😠 (We won't mention that he's been humming the entire Wicked soundtrack for days, even before seeing the recent movie adaptation. We also won't mention that he often forgets to roll his eyes when watching Hamilton.)

Wrecker: he likes musicals mostly because he has a blast singing along with Omega. The happy ones make him giddy, the sad ones always make him cry and he's not afraid to show it. Favorite musical: The Lion King (yeah, he cries every time).

Tech: meh, musicals are fine and he won't complain about watching one, but they're pretty much last on his list of preferred movie/theater genres. He cannot fathom why anyone would make a story involving characters spontaneously bursting into a song/dance routine ("of course it's fiction and yes of course I know what suspension of disbelief is, but the background characters are meant to be random strangers and therefore all of them knowing the same song and dance the lead character is supposedly composing on the fly is NOT remotely realistic"), but some of the stories themselves are intriguing enough that he just might put down his datapad while watching it. Selecting the one he most consistently puts his datapad aside for, his favorite musical: Les Miserables.

Echo: while he agrees that musicals are kinda weird, he also just shrugs it off - the Jedi did far weirder things. Favorite musical: his default answer to this question is to name the musical he's seen most recently, which now is Fiddler on the Roof since Gregor is currently obsessed with it (no one can figure out why). Echo genuinely VASTLY prefers Fiddler on the Roof over Phantom of the Opera which was Gregor's previous musical obsession that lasted waaaay too long.

Hunter: musicals make his kid happy, so he's happy. Favorite musical: pretty much whatever Omega likes at any given moment, but he did find himself strangely drawn in by The Sound of Music.

[seventeenlovesthree]

Since it's my personal mission to make everybody watch the Digimon Adventure Tri Stage Play, I dug up one of my favourite interviews again. I owe the producer my life, because he simply managed to create the best piece of Digimon Adventure media since Adventure itself (in my opinion almost as amazing as Our War Game and that MEANS something). However, I saw a few people being confused about a few things, so I wanted to clarify:

"Wait, is the Stage Play just Tri's story but done on stage?"

Nope, it does take place during the Tri era (between the third and fourth movie to be exact), but it is an original (side) story that can be watched without having any knowledge of Tri or Tri's plot.

"Does the story take place in the real or in the Digital World?"

That would actually be a spoiler and since there is no easy answer to this, I'm gonna say you have to watch it for yourself.

"Are the characters like in the original or like in Tri?"

That's the fun part - of course there are glimpses and pieces of the Tri characterizations, but the producer really did his very best to adapt the characters faithfully and as respectfully from the original source material as much as he could and I think you can feel that:

"To be honest, the generational timing was a little off for me, so I had never seen Digimon before. After I received the request for the stage play, I watched all of it, including the original TV series and the movie series, but I didn’t expect that I’d be crying so many times. It was a story of human growth and Digimon evolution being deeply intertwined, and I watched as that growth and evolution was overlaid with so many other things. Maybe it was because I watched it as an adult, but I was able to see it from all sorts of perspectives in regards to “people growing”. (...) While I’ve worked with other people’s stories and made plays out of them several times, it was usually in the sense of taking the original work’s story and repurposing it for the stage format. But for this one, even though I’m borrowing the original series’s characters, the story is being written from scratch, and it’s my first time writing words for characters that were created by other people. It was a high level of difficulty, and I still feel it even now. Also, it made me wonder how the scriptwriters for the anime must have done this. They were also writing the same characters in the same world, while sharing that job with tons of other people. It’s amazing that they were able to do that. But, naturally, it wasn’t just full of difficult and painful things, but once the story properly got going, I got to hear the lines I was writing in the voices of the characters from the original series, and getting to savor those kinds of moments was very fun. Someone like me, who works in the theatre field, gets to take over the job of writing the lines of characters made by others. And then I have Toei check over it, and we get even closer to the mark. So in other words, we bring these characters to life by sharing them between everyone. And especially in the case of Digimon, it was an interesting experience in that there wasn’t just one writer or director, but rather that everyone had their own version of Taichi and Yamato, and the dialogue was born from between all of that.

"Anything else I need to know?"

If you are able to see past some cringe, don't mind nostalgia baiting and are okay with a few... Questionable scenes in regards to the main antagonist (which you will definitely know if you've watched the original Adventure series), you will enjoy this.

Also, personally, I'd say this is the order of plot relevance of each human character, so if your favourite characters are in the top half of the list (and even if they're not), you are likely to have fun:

Taichi

Jyou

Koushirou

Yamato

Mimi

Hikari

Sora

Takeru

[cipheramnesia]

Like, I don't really know what else to say. Twenty producers' notes in a trenchcoat. Visible seams from where the parts of Aliens and Alien 4 got stitched in. 1979 Alien without the brain or the heart, hollow echoes of ideas passed through bloodless marketing department hands, relics with some long forgotten purpose. "Get Away From Her You Bitch" reverently inscribed as a holy talisman of protection. Characters wander through a dead ship, unknowingly echoing their journey through the dead script of Alien, lost and yearning for something they can't understand while they travel to their inevitable conclusions - to be whole characters, complete in and of themselves, rather than vacuous ghosts trying to sustain themselves on your memories of that time the same thing happened in Alien.

It would almost be brilliant if it were intentional. A digital fake of Ian Holm creating a fake version of a fake person that's used to lie to the characters in the film and put a fake personality into the film's android. There's too many bitter layers of metaphor. The ship meant to remind everyone of the Nostromo forcibly attached to the shitty falling apart facility for mass producing Aliens. No one who's supposed to care for Wish-Ripley actually cares about her. The creature barely has enough energy to make it on screen and has to go through a second round of incubation before it's revealed as yet one more generically underwhelming version of the creature that somehow hasn't had a better version made in almost fifty years now. Look at how hard it had to work just to be some figment of the original. Everyone is surrounded by swarms of ambulatory dicks trying to fuck them over. The alien's most frighting appearance is before it's born. I don't know, it's this Rube Goldberg contraption fully unaware of what a great job it's doing explaining why it's so bad at doing its one simple job. There's nothing there. There's no movie in this movie, it's a bunch of stuff that's supposed to be on screen for Alien movies, and it ends with a third grade play about vegetables version of repeating nearly the exact same final dialog as Alien. It's fine, it's horribly, awfuly depressingly fine, a shrug in the infinite void of sequels, another average blended smoothie of unflavored cinematic protein, a profit margin in someone's accounting software somewhere, checking off a box, a pizza hot pocket that's all crust.

It's a draining movie to watch, as if somehow my sense of joy and wonder has measurably dropped, and I need to go find sustenance in better works of art to regain that spark. Not a movie that hates its audience but a movie that exists only to extract money, time, and memory. It wears its middling vampirism on its sleeve and has no ulterior motive besides making you worse for having seen it.

I have had an opportunity to see Alien Romulus for free.

[ninoochat]

did i just spend 4 or 6 hours taking screenshots and organizing them into neat little photosets nobody will care about just because im obsessed about this god forsaken movie?

yes, yes i did. and ill fuckin do it again

[moeblob]

A lil guy !