#i felt so bad for his character in this movie
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
That's So True
Inspired by That's so True by Gracie Abrams
pairing: reader x drew starkey
a/n: i just realized that i've never formally introduced myself on here! my bad, my name is rhodee, 21 years old, living in europe and currently studying law. i love writing imagines that'll hopefully make you laugh, swoon or cry (sorry not sorry) a little too hard <3
stick around if you’re into dreamy characters, plot twists, or just want to scream about Drew with me!
hope i'll get to know so many of y'all on here!! okay that's all, enjoy <3
The night Drew had left for the premiere, you told yourself it was just another event, like all the others. You even tried to convince yourself you didn't mind staying home, avoiding the chaos of the red carpet. It's his night, you thought, forcing a smile as he kissed you goodbye, his cologne lingering in the air long after the door closed.
But as the hours stretched on, the gnawing sense of isolation grew. It wasn't just tonight - it had been building for months. Drew's career was skyrocketing, and with every interview, press tour and glamorous event, it felt like he was slipping further away from you. He'd promised that things would calm down after this movie, that he'd have more time. But those promises were always vague, like a finish line that kept moving further out of reach.
The photos hit social media just before midnight. Drew, looking devastatingly handsome in his suit, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his co-star, Odessa A’ Zion. The fan comments flooded in, gushing about how perfect they looked together, how the chemistry was undeniable.
You slammed your laptop shut. It wasn't jealousy - not exactly. You trusted him, but trust didn't erase the ache of feeling invisible.
The sound of Drew's keys jingling at the door pulled you from your spiralling thoughts. The clock on the wall read 1:47 a.m. You hadn't realized how late it had gotten. The door opened, and Drew stepped inside, his movements slow and careful, like he didn't want to disturb you. He probably thought you were asleep.
"Hey," you called out, your voice sharp in the quiet apartment. You couldn't hide the edge of frustration.
He paused, caught off guard, then gave a tired smile. "Hey, babe. Didn't think you'd still be up."
"Well, I am," you said, standing from the couch. "Thought you said you'd be home hours ago."
"The afterparty ran late," he explained, shrugging off his jacket. "I texted you."
"That's not the point, Drew," you snapped, your tone harsher than you intended. “This isn’t just about tonight. Do you even realize how little I see you anymore?”
His brows furrowed, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s my job, you know how crazy things get during press tour. This isn’t new.”
“That doesn’t make it easier,” you shot back. “You’re always out there, Drew. With her, with them – whoever. And I’m just .... here. Alone. Waiting for whatever scraps of time you have left.”
Drew exhaled sharply, clearly tired, and not in the mood for an argument. “This again?” he muttered, his tone clipped. “I can’t keep apologizing for doing my job.”
You flinched at his words. “I’m not asking you to apologize for working. I’m asking you to make me feel like I matter.”
“You do matter,” he said, raising his voice slightly. “But you’re acting like I can just drop everything. This is how it is y/n. This is how it’s always been.”
“No, it hasn’t,” you countered. “It’s different now. You’re different. You barely talk to me anymore. Half the time, I don’t even know what’s going on in your life. But everyone else does. The fans, the press – they all get pieces of you that I don’t.”
“That’s not true,” Drew said, shaking his head. “You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”
Your eyes burned with unshed tears. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t see how lonely this is for me. You’re so caught up in your world that you don’t even notice.”
Drew’s frustration boiled over. “What do you want me to do, y/n? Quit? Stop taking jobs? Would that make you happy?”
His words felt like a slap, and the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over. “I want you to fight for this – for us. But instead, you’re treating me like a burden.”
Drew froze, his anger dissipating as he saw the pain in your expression. “Y/N,” he started, his tone softer, “You’re not a burden. I love you. You know that.”
“Do I?” you whispered. “Because it doesn’t feel like it anymore.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. Drew looked at you, his face a mix of regret and helplessness. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Then don’t say anything,” you said, retreating to the bedroom before your emotions could completely overwhelm you.
You shut the door behind you, leaning against it as sobs wracked your body. You hated this – hated feeling like you were losing him. But you didn’t know how to bridge the growing distance between you.
Drew stood in the living room, staring at the closed door. He felt like the worst person in the world. He wanted to fix it; to make you understand how much you meant to him. But he was so tired – tired of the constant pull between his career and personal life, tired of feeling like he was failing at both.
He sat on the couch, his head in his hands. The apartment felt unbearably quiet without you. The fight replayed in his mind, your words cutting deeper with each pass. I want you to fight for this – for us.
He realized then how distant he’d been, how much he’d taken your support for granted. You’d been his anchor through everything, and he’d been too caught up in his own world to see how much you were struggling.
When you woke up, the sun was streaming through the curtains, but the weight in your chest hadn’t lifted. You found Drew in the kitchen, already dressed and nursing a cup of coffee. His face lit up when he saw you, but it quickly fell when he noticed your guarded expression.
“Morning,” he said softly, hesitant.
You nodded, not trusting your voice.
“I, uh, I thought about what you said last night,” he began, setting his coffee down. “And you’re right. I haven’t been fair to you.”
You looked at him, surprised. “Drew – “
“Let me finish,” he interrupted gently. “I’ve been so focused on my career that I forgot what matters most – you. Us. I don’t want you to feel like you’re not part of my life, because you are. You’re everything to me, Y/N. And I know I haven’t shown that enough.”
Tears filled your eyes, and this time, you didn’t fight them. “I just... I miss you, Drew. I miss us.”
He crossed the room in a few strides, pulling you into his arms. “I miss us, too,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I’m going to do better. I promise.”
For the first time in weeks, you felt a glimmer of hope. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time, it felt like you were on the same page.
#drew starkey#drew starkey x female reader#drew starkey x oc#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey x you#obx season 4#outer banks#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey angst#drew starkey fluff#drew starkey smut#drew starkey romance#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron#obx rafe cameron#outer banks rafe#drew starkey imagine#Spotify
117 notes
·
View notes
Text
WHEN THE DEVIL MISSES YOU
Rafe Cameron x Reader
DISCLAIMER!: The following story is purely fictional and is made for entertainment purposes. I do not own any of the characters/show/movie mentioned in this story.
WARNING: Toxic exes, heartbreak, open ended/happy-ending, Rafe is/was a bad boyfriend, Reader is not perfect, mentions of drugs/drug use, implied DV.
WORD COUNT: 5285 WORDS
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The moment you stepped into The Boneyard, a haze of neon lights and laughter swirling around, he felt a gravitational pull he couldn’t resist. Rafe Cameron’s gaze consumed you, trailing over every curve, every flicker of your confidence—a vivid reminder of every sleepless night you had caused. The memory of why you had broken up faded like smoke, lost to the undeniable electricity crackling in the space between you.
Heart racing and mind whirling, Rafe downed his drink with a purpose, the burning liquid a faint echo of the fire within him. With a quick flick of his thumb, he typed a message and pressed send before he could think better of it. Just a few heartbeats later, he saw your phone light up across the crowded room.
Rafe: Hey. Miss you.
It was so classically Rafe—simple, straightforward, a shot directly to the heart. As the party exploded into chaos around him, he locked eyes with you through the throng of tipsy revellers. He nodded toward his motorbike parked just outside, a clear invitation in the midst of the chaos.
“I’m heading out,” he stated with a casual confidence, brushing off the clamour of his friends, who were too caught up in their own indulgences to notice his urgency. Reconnecting with an ex, he thought, could only bring a thrill, maybe even a second chance, right?
You paused, a heavy sigh escaping your lips, but your feet had a mind of their own, trailing after him with a mix of reluctance and expectation. The protective stance of your arms crossed over your chest shielded you from the memories tugging at your heartstrings. Why couldn’t you just ignore him?
Rafe was already straddling his bike, the roar of the engine igniting the air around him as he pulled on his helmet. The moment he caught the sound of your footsteps, a smirk unfolded across his lips, a satisfaction deep in his gut. He liked this—this chase, the thrill of wanting.
“Let’s go,” he urged, his voice barely rising above the growl of the engine, a seductive call wrapped in confidence.
“Excuse me?” you replied incredulously, arms refusing to unfold.
He killed the engine with a frown, peeling off his helmet to flash you his trademark cocky grin. “What?” He leaned in closer, resting his arm on the seat, his eyes raking over you with unabashed appreciation. There it was again, that nervous habit of biting your lip—the habit he both adored and hated.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you declared, shaking your head defiantly.
“Why not? Got somewhere better to be?” Rafe challenged, the annoyance bubbling beneath his skin. Why was this so complicated when he was sure that the chemistry was still there, sizzling just beneath the surface?
“With my friends, yeah,” you shrugged, turning the knife deeper. “Why would I go anywhere with you?”
He scoffed, irritation creeping into his voice. “You’re acting like I’m the goddamn devil. Is it so hard to believe that I actually miss you?”
You let out a mockery of laughter, bitter and sweet. “You miss me? That’s rich.”
“I do miss you,” he pressed, the agitation rising with each word. He fought the urge to grab you by the shoulders, shake some sense into you. “Why do you have to act like such a bit—”
“There it is! Now I’m a bitch. That’s exactly what I was waiting for,” you interrupted, a sharp smile on your lips, but the hurt was evident in your eyes.
He couldn’t ignore how well you knew him, how easily you pressed his buttons. The corner of his mouth twitched at your sarcastic jab, but it held no real humour. “Well, if the shoe fits, sweetheart,” he shot back, his grin morphing into something more sinister.
“Yeah—go fuck yourself, Rafe.” The words shot out of your mouth like daggers, each one piercing the space between you with a sharp finality. Disappointment etched across your features, you turned on your heel, striding away from him and back toward the ecstatic chaos of the party, where laughter mingled with loud music—an escape you desperately craved.
“I would,” he called after you, his voice oozing with sarcasm and something deeper, a longing laced within the bravado. “But you’d do a better job, like always.”
The words hung in the air, thick with tension, and it took all of your willpower not to spin around. But you did stop, your shoulders tensing as you felt a mix of disbelief and indignation wash over you. Turning back to him, eyes wide, you growled, “Shut up, Rafe!”
Embarrassment crept up your neck, and you quickly glanced around, desperate to ensure no one else had overheard. The laughter and cheers from the party felt miles away, amplifying just how isolating this confrontation had become.
“You’ve never minded me being loud before,” he teased, still perched on his bike, the engine purring a soft backdrop to this storm brewing between you. A devilish smirk spread across his face as he continued, “In fact, I’m pretty sure you’ve begged me to be loud.”
A rush of memories surged within you, ones filled with shared secrets and heated rendezvous that ignited every part of you. Come on, baby, cum inside me, come on, baby—god—Rafe!
You shook your head violently, as if trying to dislodge the sweet and agonising recollections. Your heart raced as you instinctively rushed forward and reached up to cover his mouth, glancing around nervously to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “Rafe!” you hissed, a flush creeping into your cheeks.
His eyebrows shot up in mock surprise before erupting into laughter, each peal of sound ricocheting off your frazzled nerves. The joy in his eyes only deepened with the sight of you, flustered and frantically shushing him, but there was something else, too—a glimmer of mischief, an understanding of the power he held over you.
“Don’t look so panicked,” he teased, the laughter spilling over with every word. “This is pure nostalgia, babe. How can you not enjoy it?”
In an impulsive mix of embarrassment and anger, you shoved him lightly. “You’re disgusting,” you huffed, turning to walk away, determined to sever this tenuous connection.
He held onto your wrist with an understated urgency, refusing to let you flee back into the festering chaos of the party. It was a gentle tug, but it carried with it an unspoken plea that reverberated between you. “Just get on the back of my bike, will you?” Rafe said, rolling his eyes as he gazed down at you, the challenge glinting in his stormy blue eyes. “Come on. We’ll talk.”
“Talk? We’ve been through this a thousand times before. It’s never just ‘talking’ with you,” you replied, your voice steady yet laced with an underlying tension. You met his gaze with a deadpan look, one that dared him to deny the weight of your words.
Rafe’s expression shifted, his eyes darkening slightly as they bored into yours. He took your assertion as a challenge rather than a warning. “Yeah? And?” he shot back, his voice holding a hint of defiance, coaxing you into a verbal duel. “You’ve never had a problem with that before.”
The air thickened with unresolved emotions—each syllable exchanged was a loaded bullet, and you pressed on. “We’re not together anymore, Rafe,” you reminded him, disbelief creeping into your tone, as if it should have been obvious.
“Yeah, ’cause you broke up with me,” he retorted, stepping closer, his grip tightening just enough to send a ripple of heat through your skin. “You dumped me,” he emphasised, the words bitter on his tongue, as if the act was an open wound, still fresh and raw.
“Yes. Yes, I did. And for a good reason,” you replied softly, guilt and pain twisting in your chest like a knife. The memory of the decision lingered between you, hanging heavy in the air, an unspoken truth that cut deeper than any argument you’d had.
“Which is?” Rafe asked, a tone of vulnerability creeping into his voice. It was a tone unfamiliar to you, the usual bravado stripped away to reveal something softer beneath. For the first time, you sensed a glimmer of confusion clouding his certainty. He’d never truly understood why you had chosen to end things, why you had thrown away four years that had been both exhilarating and exhausting.
“Are you kidding? We were fighting all the time, Rafe!” you snapped, the bafflement colouring your words. How could he not see it?
“So? Couples fight,” he countered, the defensiveness creeping back into his tone. “It’s normal!” It was a tired refrain, one that you had heard too many times before, yet it still echoed painfully in your heart.
“But it was more than that!” you fired back, feeling frustration bubble up from within. “It was toxic! We kept circling the same arguments without ever fixing anything. You refused to change, and I was… I was miserable. We weren’t making each other better; we were dragging each other down!”
And with that, the truth spilled over, painfully honest and raw, as if it were a wound torn open.
He stared at you, the reality of your words settling in, a shadow flickering across his face. “You think that’s how I wanted it?” he asked, surprise and a hint of hurt laced through his voice. “I thought you were better off with more fight in you, not less. You were always the strong one, Y/N. You could take it.”
“And look where that got us!” you shot back, your heart racing. “I fought until I couldn’t anymore! And you just… you just kept pushing!”
“How we fight? Is NOT normal, Rafe!” The words burst from your lips like fireworks, filling the charged air between you with a mixture of anger and desperation. Drained, you felt the heat radiating from your flushed cheeks as you took an unsteady breath. “I get angry and I yell. YOU get angry and you start throwing things and snorting coke!”
Rafe’s brows furrowed, a hint of stubborn pride rising to the surface as he shot back, “That’s what I do,” tightening his grip on your wrist slightly, as if anchoring you to his world. “That’s just how I deal with things!”
In that moment, he was a ticking bomb, aware yet indifferent about the damage he could inflict. He knew his approach wasn't healthy, wasn't good by any standard, but when frustration coursed through his veins like wildfire, it felt as if he had no other outlet.
“Well, I couldn’t deal with that! It just made me paranoid, Rafe!” Your voice rose, the plea soaked in anguish. Each word felt like a lead weight dropped into the void of your troubled relationship.
“Then why did you stay with me for so long?” The question slipped out of his mouth like ice, cold and sharp, flaring his temper further. Beneath the surface, a tempest brewed—an awareness that you were two sides of an ever-widening divide. You yearn for something better; he craved your presence, but the gulf between your realities made it feel insurmountable.
You paused, your face softened by a deep sadness, your heart aching as you prepared to lay bare your truth. “Because I loved you,” you whispered, but even those simple words seemed to hang heavy with uncertainty.
Something tightened in Rafe’s chest at your confession. The doubt gnawed at him—Bullshit. “You have a funny way of showing it,” he scoffed, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Breaking up with the person you love? Because that really shows how much you care.”
The mist in your eyes began to swell, and you felt the familiar, bitter taste of despair creeping in, like an old friend returning. “Yeah. Okay, Rafe,” you murmured, your voice small and breaking as you turned away, blinking back tears and attempting to clear the lump lodged in your throat.
“Stop.” The command slipped from his lips, harsh and unyielding. His heart ached as he caught that familiar shimmer in your eyes, the telltale sign of tears threatening to cascade down your cheeks. The lightness of silence fell around you both, suffocating and heavy. He released your wrist, his hands itching with the desire to wipe your tears away, but he stalled himself, feeling the weight of the history that constrained you both. “Don’t start with the crying bullshit,” he said, steeling his resolve. “You’re the one who ended it.”
Every syllable felt like a stab to your raw heart. The sting echoed with the immense hurt of being belittled—the same hurt that had been inflicted over four painful years together. You nodded to yourself, your eyes focused on the ground as you struggled to hold back the tears, hugging yourself tightly as though it would somehow provide solace.
Watching you shrink, feeling yourself become the reason for your sadness, clawed at Rafe’s insides in a way he couldn’t comprehend. I hate this. He hated this feeling— Hated being the one to dim your light.
With a frustrated scoff, he ran his fingers through his tousled hair, the uncertainty crippling. “Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, grappling with his emotions. Against all better judgments, he closed the distance between you, grasping your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze.
You resisted, refusing to look up, each moment of contact driving you deeper into anguish as you fought the tears welling in your eyes. You stared stubbornly down the road, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.
“Look at me,” he said, his voice dropping to a softer, almost desperate tone. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he lifted your chin, coaxing you into his fiery blue gaze. “Crying never solved anything,” he muttered, a tremor in his voice as anger mingled with something raw and unfettered—his jaw clenched tight.
Every fibre of him railed against the vulnerability on display, but beneath all that anger was an unsettling pleasure. Some dark part of him whispered,— Maybe you do enjoy making her cry.
Your heart sank further. He always had a deft way of making you feel stupid—like a mere child caught in a whirlwind of adult frustration. “Talking never solved anything between us either, Rafe,” you replied, pushing him away, your voice thick with strained emotion and decisive hurt.
You could see the flicker of pain in his eyes at your words, a fleeting glimmer of understanding that clashed with the raging storm beneath the surface. In that moment, the world around you faded, leaving only the weight of your emotions, the fragility of your relationship hanging in the air like broken glass.
Rafe faltered, a man caught between the desire to hold on and the need to let go. Each breath felt heavier as the silence deepened, filled with the unspoken intensity of your past and a fragile hope for the future—or perhaps, a final closing chapter.
Yet in that suspended reality, neither of you knew how to bridge the ever-widening gulf between love and war. The battle raged on, but with every tear shed and every harsh word thrown, the question remained: was there still a path worth fighting for, or would this be just another painful cycle ending in loneliness?
He lets you shove him away, swallowing the protest that rises in his throat. Your truth hits like a crushing wave, undeniable, but it leaves him grappling for breath. You’re right, he thinks, but the words wither on his tongue. The warmth of your presence is intoxicating and infuriating all at once, and as you retreat into that familiar silence, he knows you’re already lost, spiralling into whatever headspace you escape to when confrontation looms.
“Y/N,” he attempts again, his voice edged with frustration as he grabs your wrist and yanks you back toward him. “You’re just running away again.”
“Running away?” Your voice ignites the air, fierce and razor-sharp. “You’re the runner in this relationship, Rafe! Not me! I stayed for four goddamn years trying to get you to— to talk to me— to even look at me and treat me with respect!” The rawness of your emotions spills over, fueling the fire that rages between you as you shove him toward his bike.
“Respect you?” He snaps back, fury bubbling to the surface as he steps back to her. “If my idea of respect includes putting up with your bullshit, then I’m happy to keep being disrespectful.” The bite in his tone cuts through the tension like a serrated knife, even as he knows it’s counterproductive.
Rafe is all too aware of the damage he does when his voice rises, the chaos it sends skittering across your face. It’s the quickest way to elicit a reaction from you, rivalled only by the fleeting moments when he makes contact—those moments when rage eclipses empathy.
“And I did look at you,” he sneers, venom dripping from his words. “I looked at you plenty of times with my hand around your neck.”
Your breath hitches, and the pain in your chest wells up into your throat as you stare at him, horrified. “God—look at you! You don’t even care about what you’ve done to me! How you've treated me!” Your voice trembles, rough with emotion, tears pooling in your eyes as you confront the truth—you feel battered by his unrelenting cruelty.
“Are you kidding me?” His voice drops low, bitter, an undercurrent of wounded pride threatening to burst forth as he steps closer, invading your space. With a commanding presence, he towers over you, pinning you against the back of his bike. There’s a twisted satisfaction in the way your tears reflect his power, a fleeting belief that maybe, just maybe, he’s the one still in control.
“You constantly pushed me away! You ran away the second things got serious between us!” Your words snap like a taut wire, each syllable infused with the hurt that has festered over those long, winding years.
Rafe’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking as anger boils underneath the surface. “Me? Running? Huh?” His voice drips with incredulity. “Is that what you call it when we’re in the middle of a fight and the next minute, I open my eyes to see you with one foot out the goddamn door?”
Each word gets heavier, crashing down upon the space between you like a thunderstorm, drowning both your voices in a deluge of unresolved rage and passion.
“Okay, well here I am, Rafe! I'm not running now, am I? So what do you want to do? Go on! Tell me! What’s your brilliant plan to work this out?” Your voice is a fierce challenge, hands firmly planted on your hips, glaring up into his stormy eyes, filled with expectation as if he might suddenly pull a solution from thin air.
In that moment, the silence stretches, a fragile tautness woven between you—his anger and your sorrow finding a tenuous balance. But deep down, beneath the swirling maelstrom of emotions, you both know there is no easy answer, no quick fix. Only the relentless push and pull of two souls bound by passion and pain, teetering on the precipice of what’s left to lose.
But for now, all he can offer is silence, and the unspoken fear that whatever comes next may define not just who you are together, but whether there is even a "together" left to salvage.
Rafe stood motionless, fists clenched tightly at his sides, framing the rage and confusion simmering just beneath the surface. He glared down at you, his expression a mix of frustration and something deeper that he couldn’t quite articulate. Your gaze bore into him, eyes glistening with hurt, expectation, and something else—love. It was exhausting, the way you looked at him, a relentless reminder of all he felt yet refused to acknowledge.
Why did you hold this power over him? It wasn’t fair. With each moment that passed, he felt his anger slowly unravelling, eroded by the depth of your gaze, replaced by a tumult of emotions that threatened to sweep him away. With one determined stride, he closed the distance between you, his heart pounding wildly.
In a sudden rush, he cupped your face with rough hands and crashed his mouth against yours, a desperate collision of passion and unspoken words.
You melted into him, your breath hitching as the world around you faded. You fisted his shirt, anchoring yourself to him, losing your resolve as desire crushed the anger that had fueled your fight. Rafe moaned with satisfaction, deepening the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours, exploring every corner of your mouth as if trying to memorise the taste of you. He missed you—oh, how he missed you.
His thumb brushed tenderly against your cheek, wiping away the tears that had slipped down in the heat of the moment. His kisses were often rough, driven by frustration and anger, but this felt different—fierce yet vulnerable, almost pleading.
Yet, you felt a sobering reality seep in, a mix of longing and regret. You pushed against him weakly, your hands clenched around the fabric of his shirt, torn between wanting to pull him closer and needing to push him away. Rafe, sensing your struggle, didn’t relent. Instead, he pressed you back, forcing you onto the seat of his motorcycle, effectively caging you in with his body.
His hands were everywhere—grasping your hair, sliding across your waist, fingers inching dangerously close to where they shouldn’t go in public. But even in his reckless abandon, he held on to a shred of decency, hesitating just beneath your breasts, like a thief caught in the act, unsure of whether to risk it all.
The intoxicating heat of the moment enveloped you until awareness crashed back like a cold wave. You became hyper-aware of his touch, and suddenly you were shaken from your trance. Pushing him away, you hurriedly wiped your lips with the back of your hand, a bitter taste lingering on your tongue along with the chaos of emotions. “No! You can’t just do that—you can’t just kiss me and think it’ll make it all better!” Anger bubbled up through your tears, and you choked on the words, the frustration spilling over like an unrelenting tide.
“Why?” he snapped, his voice ragged and raw, dripping with exhaustion. He gripped your arms with a fierce intensity. “Why can’t I just kiss you and make it better?” Each word was a confession, a battle of its own, laying bare the ways he’d always known how to avoid the conversations that truly mattered.
You stood there, heart racing and breaths coming in ragged gasps, your voice trembling as you confronted Rafe. “Nothing ever got solved that way! Why do you think we kept fighting? We were miserable together, Rafe!” Your voice cracked under the weight of your frustration, tears threatening to spill.
Rafe leaned into your space, the anger in his demeanour suddenly turning mocking. “Oh, we were so miserable,” he sneered, fingers tightening around your jaw, pulling you closer to him, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Is that why you were always begging for me every night, huh? Because we were always miserable?”
The sharpness of his words pierced through you, and you felt like an exposed nerve, raw and aching. A soft whine escaped your throat as you buried your face in your hands, the familiar sense of despair washing over you. Once again, you were thrust back to square one, caught in a cycle with him that made your heart race and your spirit ache. He never truly took the time to understand the depth of your feelings, the turmoil that swirled within you.
“You can fight this all you want,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous as he nudged your head up with his nose, forcing you to confront him. “But you and I both know that you like when I’m rough with you, when I’m mean.”
His lips descended toward yours, capturing you in another kiss that felt more like a claim than an act of affection. This kiss was possessive and insistent, as if he was trying to expel any remaining resistance left in you, as if he could kiss away all the pain and anger.
“No, Rafe,” you whispered shakily against his lips, tears spilling over now, coursing down your cheeks. “I was afraid of you.”
The confession echoed between you like thunder, and suddenly, something within him shattered. Rafe stared at you in disbelief, his expression morphing from arrogance to something resembling vulnerability. His lips parted, but no words came—only the heaviness of your revelation hung in the air like a brick.
He had braced himself for your scorn, ready to hear you say that you hated him—his ways, his behaviour, his mercurial anger. But to hear you voice your fear, small and broken like a timid whisper, shattered him to his core.
“Your behaviour—the coke—your anger,” you choked out, each word painful and raw, forcing its way through your tears. “After Peterkin—” You flinched at the name, the reminder of the sheriff he shot like a sharp knife slicing open old wounds.
Like a bucket of cold water washed over him, Rafe stood there, realisation dawned on him like a terrible wave. The world around them had faded into an indistinct blur, and all he could focus on was the anguish etched into her face.
“Wait,” he breathed, his voice strained as if it were both a question and a plea. “Is that why you broke up with me?”
For a moment, she stayed silent, and Rafe listened to the steady rhythm of her heavy breathing, each shaky exhale a reminder of their shattered relationship. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her red and blurry eyes reflecting the pain she couldn’t articulate.
“I couldn’t take it,” she finally rasped, her words slipping out in a sorrow-soaked confession. “I felt so guilty, trying to keep what you did to Peterkin a secret. Do you even understand how hard it was to know my boyfriend… murdered someone?”
The weight of her words hung between them, pulling them into a chasm of fear and uncertainty. “I was so scared, Rafe. You were constantly on coke; you just got so violent. I couldn’t—I couldn’t do it anymore. You don’t even remember what you did to me, do you? I never even told you—”
Goddammit. Rafe closed his eyes, a frustrated groan escaping him, reverberating in the quiet night. He had tried to drown out memories of what he’d become, but they crashed over him like a relentless wave.
Yes, he remembered. The rage that had blindsided him. The destructive path he had taken that had led to moments where his hands had hurt instead of healed. When he had lashed out at her, the one person who had stood by him through it all. How had he let it come to this?
She turned away, trying to wipe her tears in vain, as if she could wish away the pain that lingered between them. Rafe felt his heart wrench at the sight of her suffering.
“Oh, for f—look at me!” he snapped, an edge of desperation creeping into his tone. He stepped forward, needing her to hear the urgency in his voice, needing her to face him. “Please, just look at me!”
Torn between the impulse to lash out against his own anguish and the overwhelming need to reach out to her, Rafe was caught in a tempest of emotion. He wanted to scream to silence the doubts and fears. But he also wanted to pull her into his arms and promise her he would never let go.
Finally, you reluctantly turned to him, her eyes a mixture of hurt and weariness, silently pleading for clarity.
“Rafe…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You don’t understand how much I’ve lost.”
“No, I don’t,” he admitted, his voice steadying as he fought to regain his composure. “And that’s why I need to know. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want to confront this… us… whatever this is, together. I know I’ve hurt you, and I know I’ve hurt myself. But I want to change. I want to fight this for you—for us.”
Her eyes searched his, as if trying to gauge the sincerity behind his plea. “It’s going to take more than just words, Rafe. I need to see you willing to fight—a real fight.”
“I’ll fight every damn day,” he vowed, honesty pouring from his heart. “You have to believe me. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I can’t be that person and lose you in the process.”
A silence fell between them, heavy like the night sky. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words caught in her throat. Finally, she sighed and stepped back, creating distance that felt insurmountable.
“Rafe… I don’t know if I can trust what you’re saying. It’s so hard for me,” she said, tears welling up again.
“I know,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper. “But if you let me, I’ll show you—every single day. I’ll—I’ll get clean, and I–I won’t run from my reflection in the mirror anymore. I refuse to be the man who brought you pain. Okay? I’m–I’m gonna take care of us. I’m gonna take care of you.”
She looked down, contemplating, chewing on her lip as the weight of his words began to settle. The barriers she had built to protect herself were carved from fear but also love. Love that had once defined their relationship.
“I… I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to change,” she managed, a shard of quiet desperation threaded in her words. “It’s going to take time, Rafe. You can’t expect me to just jump back in.”
“I’m not,” he reassured her gently. “I want to be patient. I want to rebuild. I just can’t imagine a future without you in it.”
“Promise me you’ll keep fighting,” she said softly, her gaze finally locking on him with a fierce intensity, as if her heart was dangling by a thread. “Promise me you won’t give up on yourself.”
“I promise,” Rafe said firmly, sealing that promise with determination. “But I need your help too. I need you to consider that maybe we could find our way back.”
Her expression wavered, hope flickering as she searched for a sense of purpose in the storm raging within.
“Okay,” she said slowly, a semblance of resolution breaking through. “But only if you’re serious about this.”
Rafe nodded, relief flooding through him. He extended a hand toward her, not forcing contact but offering it and hoping she would take it. After an agonising moment, she glanced at his hand and then at his face, searching for sincerity.
Then they both took a step toward each other, a tentative toe in the water of rebuilding a shattered world.
As their fingers entwined, he felt the warmth of her skin, a reminder of what they had once shared. The night still held shadows, but glimmers of light began to break through, carving out the possibility of healing.
In that bittersweet moment—where fear mixed with hope—they stepped onto the path of understanding, aware that though the road ahead would be long and filled with obstacles, they were committed to facing it together, one day at a time.
The End.
#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron obx#rafe smut#rafe obx#outer banks rafe#rafe imagine#outerbanks rafe#rafe outer banks#drew starkey x you#drew starkey#obx smut#outer banks smut#obx rafe cameron#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey imagine#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron thoughts#RAFE CAMERON#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron x pogue!reader#outer banks#obx season 4#obx x reader#obx4
115 notes
·
View notes
Text
Things that bother me about Dragon Age: The Veilguard part 3 (final thoughts)
I have finally finished the playthrough. I endured because I wanted to give this game a fair chance. I wanted to see it from start to finish in the hopes it would deliver something, anything capable of redeeming it. But it just didn't. Or more precisely, not in a way sufficient to make its flaws easy to overlook. These are my closing impressions on the game. I have already done two posts about this in which I documented my observations and comments as I progressed. I will link the posts here: Part 1, Part 2.
Let's finish this ride for now.
!Spoilers below the cut!
The music
I don't know what the direction of the music was meant to take. When it was announced Hans Zimmer would compose the OST I had high hopes. Hans Zimmer is a houshold name in Hollywood and skilled at what he does. I listened to a number of movie OSTs of his making and they were all excellent. So what happened here?
The music sounds generic most of the time without a clear theme or a unique piece that got me searching for it on youtube.
The main theme has sort of a recognizable composition but isn't anything outstanding. Emmrich's theme sounds like a halloween piece written for Wednesdsy Adams and the rest of the OST seems to mimic Trevor Morris' work for DA:I, namely the Lost Temple and In Hushed Whispers themes, but without the emotional impact the original pieces created.
It's as someone has already pointed out and I agree: Bioware has bought the name Hans Zimmer but not his quality. It sounds like he didn't even seriously create something but half heartedly whipped something out of his sleeve and called it a day.
The facial animations
The main problem with these is they often don't fit the emotions the VAs are communicating.
The VAs actually did a fantastic job. The scene that touched me the most was the one Rook confronts Solas in after they escape the regret prison in the fade. That was the first time Rook felt involved, raw and real.
But what broke the atmosphere in an otherwise flawless scene was how unmoving their facial expression was. There was the VA shouting their lung out and the animation couldn't even give half a fuck about it.
I don't even see an excuse for this lack of facial animation. It was possible to do since DA:O, hell, even since the first Mass Effect back in '07. Why is it not possible in the year of our Lord 2024, when technology is presumably better?
The handholding of the player
The plot is tightly paced. This is not necessarily a bad thing as I didn't really like the Open World approach of DA:I since it stretched the main plot too thinly and the maps created weren't filled with interesting side content but boring and pointless fetch quests.
But Veilguard went into the opposide extreme as it leaves only little room for the player when and how to do things. The quests are activated and must be completed in a specific order. They have also only one outcome without room to make different decisions.
Rook can never be truly ruthless. They can never disagree and butt heads with their companions.
And I hate how on the side of the screen the game exactly tells you what you have done and how it affects your companions' behaviour. It doesn't bake it into the interaction organically. Instead it has yet again, explained to me what I did and why it has this very specific effect without any of the characters discussing it. But the beauty of consequential decisions lies in the very unpredictability of its outcome. That's what creates the emotional impact. It doesn't work if I am being warned and explained to like a small child.
It's this lack of trust the game puts into the intelligence of its players that is so experience breaking, insulting even. It doesn't trust its players to figure stuff out themselves. It assumes we are too stupid to get any of the things it tries to tell us.
The ting is though, dear Bioware writers, if you think you have to overexplain your story because you think your audience won't get it then that's a telltale sign of the story being actually badly written.
Another area where this becomes appearant are the "puzzles". I used the quotation marks because there isn't really anything to solve. The solutions are obvious and at times your companions go out of their way to tell you.
The romances
Romances have always been a nice bonus on top of the otherweise amazing game content. They added some enjoyable extra fluff purely for enjoyment and some cases even deepened the main storyline.
In Veilguard they don't do that. In almost all of them the flirting is so meaningless that your cutscene with them just proceeds as if nothing happened.
There is no shift or change to their tone towards Rook. You don't build up the relationship with them. There is no last goodbye kiss before the last mission or passionate affirmations of love and trust. It just leaves you cold.
The only romance that seems to have that old depth is Emmrich's. The rest however, they don't add anything significant. There virtually is no difference to the game without the romances.
Companion relationships
Let's begin here with the simple fact that all deeper interactions Rook has with the companions are strictly scripted which ties back into the handholding part of this criticism. Rook cannot initiate a conversation and ask them some general questions about their histories and opinions on certain matters.
Rook only gets to interact with them when they happen to want something from them. Otherwise they cannot be bothered to acknowledge Rook with more than a one sided oneliner.
And then there are the relationships between the companions themselves. They either get along swimmingly or the game feels the need to stage some immature conflict between them without any deeper purpose.
Like Harding not understanding why Emmrich brings so many books on the road despite it literally not being any of her damn business bevause it doesn't personally affect her in any way.
Or Taash not understanding his profession as a Mournwatcher as they call him names so Rook has to point out Taash in turn likes dragons which is an interest he doesn't share only to culminate the discussion with a "We need to respect our differences" sort of statement.
These are not conflicts, these are squabbles of children and like children Roik talks to them which is brought ad absurdum with Emmrich because he is literally old enough to be Rook's father.
Why bother at all with writing conflict if it is only to be something as inconsequential as this?
Varric's death
This one is a .... choice.
I won't go into why the decision to let him die or not is good or bad because I feel like this is highly subjective.
However the impact of the reveal of this fact is only partly executed well.
Why?
Because it only hits hard when the player has known and cared about Varric at least since DA:I if not DA 2. The execution of this plotpoint thus relies too heavily on nostalgia instead of building the tension up within its own setting.
When thinking about Bioware also wanting to be newcomer friendly with this game I am left to wonder then why they didn't introduce Varric properly and didn't give the players time to build up the relationship? Why would a new player care about Varric? They don't know him.
Bioware cannot in good conscience claim they designed the game to be new player friendly while simultaniously heavily relying on knowledge from previous games, dlcs, comics, novels and other spin-off media. They cannot claim this and have anything but DATV do the heavy lifting when it comes to executing their plot.
The final mission
For my final point I also want to lose some positive feedback about this game.
The ending was actually well written.
In relation to Solas it comes full circle. You can actually feel what's at stake and the decisions Rook makes actually matter.
The final questline roughly follows a Mass Effect 2 approach where it is classified as nothing short of a suicide mission.
Companion quests essentially function as loyalty missions and Rook gets to assign various posts in battle. Just like in Mass Effect 2 assigning a companion a post completely outside of their expertise may get them killed.
The dialogue is actually written well at this point in the game. There isn't really much to complain about.
But even this part is not entirely without faults.
For one I don't like the non negotiable sacrifice that has either to be made by Harding or Davrin. Rook doesn't even get a chance to save any of them. But again these non negotiable companion deaths where you only make the choice who's it's going to be isn't anything new (i.e. Hawke and whatever Warden you happen to get, Kaidan/Ashley in ME 1). So maybe a bit if a bummer but nothing experience breaking.
A stronger point however is that Rook will always keep the Veil intact in the end.
I suppose this outcome already is part of the game title itself but was it necessary to take it so literally?
With everything the elves have lost and the discrimination they faced it should absolutely have been an option to agree with Solas and tear the Veil down.
But since we don't talk about racism and slavery I guess Rook doesn't reflect on these points either. So I guess keeping the Veil intact is in line with the game's general sanitization of the world.
So in conclusion?
The game is far from great, not gonna lie. It feels like the devs actually wanted a new IP but were too afraid of the risks that come with such an endeavor and thought gutting an existing franchise that already did the heavy lifting of building a fanbase and using it as a package would save their ideas from flopping. Surely no one will notice it is actually something else if we market it as Dragon Age, right?
But we are not that stupid. This behaviour is insulting to put it plain and simple and I am heartbroken, angry and said that this was done to Dragon Age. I wanted to love this game. I was optimistic before the release. Everything looked fine, nothing in particular to worry about.
But I cannot continue to defend this without breaking my basic brain function.
The most frustrating part is that with the ending the devs showed they can write a story and meaningful dialogues. It left me wondering why it couldn't be done like this for the rest of the game and living with the reality that I will never get what this game could have been.
All in all this is not a good Dragon Age game. It is a massive disappointment and does not live up to the promises made by the devs.
I am sorry for everyone who preordered.
I am sorry for everyone who paid the full release price.
Nominating it for Game of the Year is not justified no mattee how you look at it.
If you are genuinely enjoying the game, I hope you continue to do so and all power to you.
For the rest: let's stop excusing Bioware's disrespect towards the fans and enabling them by paying them too much money for it.
Don't buy at release. Don't buy spin off media. Wait for sales. These people only understand the problem when you give them a good run for their money.
#dragon age#dragon age: the veilguard#datv#datv critical#bioware critical#emmrich volkarin#taash#scout harding#solas#long post#this is the end of my critical long posts#i will post some thoughts and ideas on how this game could have been improved#this is my way of coping with the sheer betrayal this game release was to me#like it was my groom and left me the bride at the altar on our wedding da#after feeding me all these empty promises#i can never trust bioware again
54 notes
·
View notes
Text
So every year or two, I go through a period of reconnecting with my high school Trekkie interests, rewatching some Star Trek clips, episodes, and movies, and during this particular period, I have to voice my main criticism of the reboot films: namely, the treatment of the Enterprise.
To be clear, I think the reboot Enterprise had a nice redesign. She looked very clean and futuristic while capturing the original design in broad strokes. The lens glare is certainly annoying, and it doesn’t have the same heart and retro feel as the original, but I feel they generally did a fairly decent job with the design. I’m talking about how she is treated throughout the films, namely, how she’s treated effectively like just another ship.
In the original series, the Enterprise has a certain heart coming across almost like a character in of herself. You get a clear feel from the characters that they consider the enterprise almost to be home, and Kirk and Scotty in particular see her almost like an actual woman, one who they cherish and will protect at all costs. This sentiment is magnified in the first three movies, particularly in the motion picture and in the search for Spock. When Kirk first sees the refit Enterprise, you can see how much he loves the ship, and when the Enterprise is plunging to her final resting place, the mourning on all of their faces, especially Kirk, makes this moment particularly powerful and truly hammer home that the Enterprise was a character in and of herself. The original Enterprise felt like a character fans had grown up with, and her destruction felt almost like the loss of an old friend. And at the end of the voyage home, when the crew has that last-minute surprise reveal of the Enterprise-A, the triumph and homecoming feeling is so clear that even the audience shares the sentiment, almost as if the character has been reborn.
The enterprise in the reboots was never portrayed this way. She was treated like just a ship, one that might’ve been nicer and fancier and more advanced than the others, but not really all that special beyond that. In the first movie, that’s acceptable, as the focus is on bringing together the crew and getting them where they need to be for the start of their journeys. The second one focuses more on the captaincy, and what it means to really earn that seat, so it’s excusable that this one focused more on Kirk and how seriously he took his responsibilities, though they could’ve put more emphasis on the ship as part of that arc. Yes, the ship almost crashing was an emotional scene, but that had everything to do with the characters aboard and nothing to do with the ship beyond it being the place where the characters were and it’s damage being the reason that they were about to die.
And then in the third one, they just blow up the ship in the first 30 minutes and try to portray it with the same sentimental weight as the destruction of the Enterprise in the search for Spock. Which would’ve been fine, if it weren’t for the fact that they spent the last two movies treating the enterprise like just a thing, just another tool in the characters belt. She had no heart, no soul, no feeling that she was a home, or that she was the thing that brought the crew together, and kept them together, the thing that made them a family. She was basically just a big car, there to get them from point A to point B and occasionally shoot at some bad guys, and then, we’re supposed to feel devastated when she goes down for the final time.
The reveal of a reboot version of the Enterprise A was a nice surprise, but it lacked the emotional payoff of the original version, largely because of how ordinary the first Enterprise had been in this timeline. You can’t really celebrate the revival of a lost character when the character was never really there to begin with. They might as well have put the crew on an entirely new ship, like maybe a rebooted version of the Excelsior, and it would’ve had the same basic impact.
My point is that classic trek, as well as the next generation and DS9, did an excellent job of portraying the dynamic between captain and ship to the point where the ship felt almost like a real character. And that worked really well. It made the crash of the Enterprise D in generations a shocking scene, and it made her surprise return in season 3 of Picard a heartfelt and deeply nostalgic scene (Even if I wanted the Enterprise E, sorry but she’s my favorite). It made the loss of the Defiant in season seven of DS9 a powerful and emotional moment. I haven’t watched a lot of Voyager, so I can’t comment on that, but I can say with decent confidence that they couldn’t have done worse than they did in the reboots.
#star trek#star trek the original series#star trek the next generation#star trek reboot#star trek ds9#ds9#deep space nine#star trek into darkness#star trek beyond#uss enterprise#ncc 1701#enterprise a#enterprise d#enterprise e#james t kirk#mr spock#dr mccoy#tos scotty#mr scott#star trek the motion picture#star trek ii: the wrath of khan#star trek iii: the search for spock#star trek iv: the voyage home#star trek picard#star trek generations#jean luc picard#kobayashi maru#uss defiant#uss voyager
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
VINCENT PRICE, JOHN KERR, AND ANTONY CARBONE ---
THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM (1961) DIR. Roger Corman
#vincent price#john kerr#antony carbone#the pit and the pendulum#pit and the pendulum#edgar allan poe#i felt so bad for his character in this movie#people treating him like shit of course hes gonna snap#he is so sexy and cute#fuck that Elizabeth#bicon#bisexual#horror#horror classics#classic horror#roger Corman#old horror movies#vintage#movie#actor#handsome#gif#gifs made by me#gifs#my gifs
182 notes
·
View notes
Text
it just hit me that the movie is coming out next month imgonna throw upppppppp
#to be clear this isnt an excited post this is a scared post .#i feel kinda guilty about it with how excited i was about the first 2 movies#but i just cant be anymore paramount and the scu have disappointed me so much within the past year in so many ways ......#shadow is one of my favorite characters his lore makes me go crazy and is one of the things that pulled me into loving sonic so much#but i literally felt nothing while watching that trailer aside from confusion at some of the writing choices being made#like i wasnt expecting an exact recreation of sa2 but why is sonic working with gun . wtf is gerald doing here . why are there no girls .#the only positives to me were things that were cool visually . which doesnt outweigh all the things that have annoyed/disappointed me#like who cares about another cool sonic and shadow fight scene we already have plenty of those .#Anyway. saw some of those new promotional images.#i swear to god if they actually start calling shadow+eggman+gerald team dark#like they suggested they might in that survey from a while back#im gonna become the joker for real#(insert the NO that is NOT solid snake image but it says team dark instead)#also maybe im taking the hedgehog games way too seriously here#but having gerald still be alive and present in some form feels like such a bad idea from a story perspective ... like .#for one shadow lost Everything in the gun raid having gerald still be here feels like its undermining that in a way#but also gerald's whole thing in sa2 is being long dead but still impacting the story despite that . why is he ALIVEEEE#and why is he here over rouge ???? do they just hate women or something#(before someone goes ''it would take too much time/money to animate another cgi character''#maybe the movies should have just been fully animated if that sort of thing was a concern . just saying)
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
"I should've seen the signs" I feel like Stoick was basically reliving the way he lost Valka.
To him, after a lifetime of wanting nothing but to kill a dragon, Hiccup's suddenly and inexplicably changed his mind. To him, Hiccup saying he can't kill them is just like when Valka refused to and tried convincing others as well, then as a result was 'killed' by one herself.
To him, way Hiccup tossed his weapon and shield to the side then approached Hookfang while speaking about how dragons aren't what people think they are probably bares an uncomfortable resemblance to the way Valka put down her weapon and stared a dragon in the eyes and as a result was taken.
To him, attempting to do anything but preemptively defend yourself against a dragon will only end in tragedy, so he has to do anything he can to stop Hiccup before it's too late.
(And just like with Valka, he unintentionally escalated the situation by trying to protect Hiccup but only agitated the dragon, causing it to panic and react, inadvertently putting someone he loves in danger. again)
Stoick of course, wasn't acting rationally, but it makes sense when you think about how traumatizing Valka's 'death' must've been for him (and how much Hiccup reminss him of her); he watched her get taken, presumably killed, and couldn't do anything about it.
#THE PARALLEL GHSSHRBFK THE PARALLELS#'so everything in the ring was a trick? a lie?' he was so elated when he though hiccup was finally taking after him#he convinced himself so hard that This was the real hiccup he's finnaly going to be a proper viking a real member of the tribe#and he was so proud and glad he finally had something he could connect with his son over#but again he'd convinced himself of all that. he completely ignored everything hiccup had to say#in his eagerness to actually be a Family to actually bond with his child#he was so stuck with this fake image of Hiccup the Dragon Slayer he'd convinced himself of to the point#when it all fell through he felt almost betrayed#betrayed and scared#scared he made a horrible irrational and emotionally charged decision of essentially disowning his son#im not saying stoicks a good parent. hes not. but hes trying and alone and taking care of an entire village as well as hiccup#and all the unprocessed trauma and emotional repression#hes not great but hes not bad either. hes trying.#hes trying and its not enough but at least it got better#i love stoick#parents of autistic kids they dont understand moment#httyd#stoick the vast#stoick haddock#hiccup haddock#valka haddock#httyd analysis#maybe?#hiccup horrendous haddock iii#haddock family#moth.txt#also pls dont tell me abt how valka and the 2nd movie wasnt planned yet. ik that but i like expanding on things#and pondering a characters reasoning for certain decisions bc its fun and makes them all the more fascinating#post rewatch 1am thoughts go crazy (sorry if any of this is like redundant or confusing. im tired) if u read the tags ily
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
The thing that kills me about the Star Wars prequel trilogy and why I will die on my hill that my problem is not that Star Wars is a tragedy, its that its a badly written tragedy, is that Anakin Skywalker was at his closest to being a good Jedi when he was ten years old.
#im not an anakin apologist by any means because I get the point of his character and Im not pro or anti jedi#my only real opinion on all of it is similar to what I was saying about Peter and Tony and the MCU yesterday#its badly written. its EVERYONE being contorted into shapes that dont make a ton of sense in service to#getting characters to where they need to end up for certain things to occur#my opinion is not that Anakin is inherently bad or good or that the Jedi are inherently bad or good#its that their entire conflict was set in motion by forcing the Jedi to act in ways that felt massively OOC when they were#first interviewing him as a kid and like.....I ACCEPT that the Jedi are supposed to be for the most part kindhearted and empathetic and all#of that which is why its so noteworthy in my opinion that this does not match with how they were FORCIBLY portrayed in those early movies#in order to ENGINEER the idea that this kid in desperate need of support but already with a lot of good instincts and positive traits#came to the order of kindly supportive literal empaths and everything went downhill from there#like kindly supportive literal empaths would not in my opinion look at a kid trying his best to be brave & stoic in completely intimidating#circumstances and surroundings and be judgmental and fairly dismissive about it as though theyve never met a kid before let alone a#traumatized one and the fact that thats kinda what happened is in contrast to how a lot of pro anakin people frame that NOT proof#that the Jedi order are inherently bad its that in that key scene and multiple others#the Jedi order were BADLY WRITTEN in pursuit of one pre-determined outcome that mattered more to the script/Lucas than#being true to their core conceit and characterizations. and thats just one example out of dozens I could list and the same holds true for#anakin's side of things so thats why I always steer far away from SW discourse#because Im like the problem with the characters in terms of the most iconic arc is not really any of the characters so much#as the plots refusal to let them actually consistently BE characters rather than just fixed and contrived stepping stones on the way to#the desired endpoint
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’ve only been into the spider verse movies for a little while, so I’m still processing shit every time I watch it again….. so can we talk about how Miguel watched gwens dad not only try to arrest her, but shoot her too, and he still sent her home( because that part REALLY pissed me off more then it usually does)
….. because he’s angry she didn’t “catch miles” (as if his ass also didn’t fail ) Fully still under the impression she has no safe place to go? Also believing cannon will happen and her dad will eventually die, effectively leaving her all on her own.
I know people could argue he’s been keeping tabs on E-65 so he may have known her dads change of heart, but he still didn’t tell gwen she would be okay? that her dad didn’t think she was a criminal? And watched her struggle helplessly thinking she was basically being sent to not only her death but her dads too…..
I know Miguel saw gwen as a liability and some could argue it was in his right to do that because she failed her mission. But she wouldn’t have failed in the first place if he just let her go see Miles to begin with….
So instead of realising his mistake or letting gwen talk to her friend, he just gets her out of his way to be a good guy. When he clearly couldn’t care less what was gonna happen to her
#across the spiderverse#spiderverse#gwen stacy#miguel o'hara#atsv#atsv miguel#spiderman atsv#atsv gwen#spiderman#spider gwen#miguel spiderverse#gwen spiderverse#spider man: across the spider verse#gosh this make me so mad#I think I’ve rented to my sister 10 times about this#like my guy you care so much for your cannon your putting others in danger#he’s so INFURIATING#my girl deserved better#I will defend gwen Stacy with my life#Miguel is an amazingly written character I do love now with his efforts to keep canon and be a good guy#he’s inevitably becoming a bad guy#this whole thing spawned because I see so many people mischaracterising Miguel#especially because in that one scene he had a fartherless instinct towards gwen#like babes that’s in the first 20 minutes of the movie#gwen gets sent home in the last 30#and she’s done a LOT that pissed him off#if he still felt the instinct he wouldn’t have sent her home lol#Miguel isn’t a good guy
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gael García Bernal in Letters to Juliet (2010, dir. Gary Winick)
(these gifs also feature Amanda Seyfried)
Gifs are all 540px wide so you can click to see larger.
[other gael filmography gifsets]
#gael garcía bernal#letters to juliet#ggb filmography gifs#gael garcia bernal#ugh#gael plays the fiance she dumps two-thirds of the way into the movie#although her eventual romantic interest is supposedly english#he is played by an australian#and it's not that his accent is BAD exactly#but it's in that uncanny valley of accents where it's just slightly off#and listening to it is like nails on a blackboard#this may have prejudiced me but i found that character dull and irritating#this was a film gael did shortly after the birth of his first child#when (he's subsequently said in interviews) he felt extra pressure to work and bring in money#and separately i've seen an interview with amanda seyfried where she says she made this movie because she wanted to buy a house#so basically everyone here was in it for the paycheck#i mean it's POSSIBLE vanessa redgrave thought it was the highlight of her artistic career i suppose but somehow i doubt it#plus points: the movie doesn't suggest there's anything WRONG with gael's character#just that the two of them aren't really compatible#which they certainly aren't if she's interested in bland blond guys#actually i'd be about 500% more interested in a hypothetical movie about gael's character than i am in the actual movie#i hope his restaurant is a success#less hypothetically también la lluvia (which is coming up next) was the same year as this and is several thousand percent more interesting#can you tell i didn't like this
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
my friend who went to see the new master and margarita movie, not familiar with the book: what the fuck is going on
me, watching the new master and margarita movie, familiar with the book: what the fuck is going on
#i'm the plot accuracy nerd 🤍#i tried to be objective but turned out i can't#it's hard to be one when the director suddenly decides to bring his own ideas into the adaptation and makes it modern looking#people are mostly saying yeah august diehl was so cool so sexy it's bad margarita is the one naked at the end#i can tell you're missing the point and all that huge budget and these actors are not enough to hide all the fuck ups#and you're ready for this conversation#i can be bitchy for no end when it comes to movies that are supposed to be built on the primary source (the book)#but instead of it directors just borrow the characters and ideas and create it in something absurd#i'm not here to drool over august diehl. i am in fact here to re-experience the story i really love#also someone said that actors were good but i leave it to those who really appreciate it#ps. woland's retinue was dull and bland#master and margarita#for the first rime in a while i felt nothing after watching a movie#neither good nor bad emotions it just wasted my time#как похорошела москва при собянине
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
not to be bitter about the Durins again but it will never stop pissing me off to a burning degree that in the movies Kíli dies off in a little corner with no one but one elf he met two days ago around, and she’s nerfed to the point she’s utterly helpless until RIGHT AFTER he’s killed. It feels so bullshit and unfulfilling. I remember me and a friend were huge fans of the Durins (her even more than me) as well as the little Kíli and Tauriel side story back when the movies came out, and we watched it in theatres and she literally said she would never watch that scene again bc it disappointed her so badly. She skips it to this day. Bc why the fuck did they have Kíli die for an elf he barely knew (I like Tauriel but it is true— they’ve known each other for maybe two or three days total) over the family he ran out into battle to defend, the family he set out on the quest with and the family that he was so proud of. Why was he not with his brother, or trying to defend his uncle who was still very much alive and in danger? Tauriel literally just serves to get Kíli killed in that scene, bc they nerf her (CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD. Even against a tough orc she should be holding her own) but have Legolas out there holding his own, and it is nowhere NEAR as emotionally devestating as the single sentence we’re given in the book of how Kíli and Fíli went down defending their uncle. I can almost excuse the change in how Fíli dies bc it does hold emotional weight, but Kíli’s death going from the devotion of family even to his own doom into dying for an elf he has puppy love for while being totally cut off from the other dwarves fucking killed the scene for me. And there isn’t really even a good payoff for Tauriel afterward either. We just leave her there regretting she ever loved him. It hurts me so damn much, and not least of which is because for every video someone does as a tribute to Thorin and his nephews, it always takes a sharp left turn into Tauriel watching Kíli die all by himself and it doesn’t even feel related to the other’s deaths. I think it would have felt much more like the best of both if they’d kept Kíli dying defending his family, and then have Tauriel come to him as he’s dying. But that’s not what happened. It fucking sucks. I promise I do like the movies but I will stand hard by saying that it’s weakest writing is the latter half of the second and the former half of the third movie. It only really picks up to consistently good scenes at Thorin’s battle with Azog in my opinion. Sorry for another brief hater moment but man. Man.
#lotr#the hobbit#sons of durin#thorin oakenshield#kili#fili#kili and fili#(their last name isn’t Durin but I’m tempted to tag it as such since I see a lot of people use that.#though to be fair what other character is named Kíli or Fíli out there lmao)#I fucking LIKE TAURIEL. but she is not more important than his family. like she is a crush he has but UR BROTHER JUST DIED MAN.#UR UNCLE IS ABOUT TO. IM SORRY BUT TAURIEL SHOULD BE ABLE TO HANDLE HERSELF AGAINST A SINGLE GODDAMN ORC.#ISNT SHE A GENERAL??#PLEASE. it hurts so bad. and they have the GALL to remind us abt Dís w the stone afterward. like family was at all involved#in how Kíli died beyond what sent him up the stairs. I don’t even think his last thoughts were portrayed as his family in the movie.#it looks like all he’s thinking about is Tauriel. not the fact that his mother will never see him again. not that he failed his uncle.#not even that he didn’t get to avenge his brother.#then Thranduil comes in and it feels awful bc she doesn’t seem to get any payoff for her character.#and this is a personal nitpick but the dialogue there just. it doesn’t end satisfyingly.#the ‘because it was real’ like never felt impactful to me. it actually felt kind of cheesy?? Tauriel’s lines actually have weight to them#and then Legolas movie bombs that scene too and we just. forget about Tauriel over there VERY LIKELY dying from elven grief#’go talk to the 12 year old in the north. for some reason he’s already called Strider’#and Kíli’s body is RIGHT THERE. they’re doing nostalgia bait and MCU level ‘ohh this guy’ shit RIGHT AFTER THE DURIN’S DIE
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
FINALLY
#I had a really great time!!#the movie was AMAZING!!!#I couldn't take my eyes off the screen#some scenes were extremely dark and I love it#during Nagireo's breakup scene I struggled not to laugh out loud#because such things always amuses me (am I a bad person?)#but I still felt it hit my heart!!#Because IT WAS SO GOOD!!#and music??#I fell in love#I will soon add all the songs to my playlist#I don't know if you know#but Nagi is my favorite bllk character#so as a Nagi Fan I was delighted with how his way of thinking was presented#The acceleration of the plot at the end didn't suit me a bit but I understand reasons#bllk#blue lock#blue lock movie#episode nagi movie#personal#Given may have some competition for the best Boys Love movie of the year
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Finally watched 'Not Lout' the other day,,, Spitelout Jorgenson count your days
(Context i adored httyd years ago and watched rtte but recently im hyperfixating on it and rewatching it, and i literally remember nothing from the show its so fun being able to first watch again after years)
#he quite LITERALLY like GAVE HIM SOCIAL ANXIETY#he HAD A PANIC ATTACK SO BAD HE COULDNT FLY HOOKFANG#IN A STRAIGHT LINE#which MEANS he was SO OUT OF IT AND UNSTEADY that even HOOKFANG COULDNT FLY HIMSELF STRAIGHT#the rage i felt like HIS VISION WAS BLURRING HE WAS SEEING SHIT#fuck spitelout#all my homies hate spitelout#SO PROUD of my boy at the end tho#saying he needs to do what he wants and not his dad? perfection#and beint HAPPY when compared to hiccup? that smile??#incredible character growth your honor#for a minute i got so caught up in snotlouts developmeny#i lived in a world where the third movie didnt exist#fuck what they did to him in thw my BOYYY#anyways#httyd#rtte#race to the edge#snotlout my beloved#snotlout#snotlout jorgenson
120 notes
·
View notes
Text
theres also a point in the movie where he gets arrested and beat up in jail and he is so depressed he loses the ability to stop time and then later his girlfriend convinces him to try again to stop time for her and he does it and theres this big music swell its handled like a big arc was just overcome. the problem is that there is no story between these scenes theyre only separated by like 5 minutes of unrelated scenes about other characters.
#also he gets shot in the head in such a sudden scene that it made me laugh out loud in the theatre i felt bad#but again they just send him off to a medic and 1.5 scenes later hes almost fine and then next time we see him hes like. fine.#it didnt really matter for more than 10 minutes of run time that the main character got shot in the head#and then for 90% of the last act hes just. not on screen even once. and then suddenly his goal for the movie is just fully realized#and he won. entirely off screen. while we were watching a bunch of political intrigue that didnt matter at all to his story.#its so weird. hes like. a strange barely-related interloper in the story despite being the main character.#avpost#movie diary#so go back to the clerrrb
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
That one post of my mine predictably aged like fine wine. Never let somebody on comic twitter in the writer's room😭😭😭 Like imagine a 1 to 1 adaptation of literally any event?? -1b at the box office. "Who are these people???"
#Anywayyy I'm writing a retelling of DC and it is honestly so fun to imagine the characters in a new but familiar light#Like the biggest reason why I was never interested in writing fanfic before 2 months ago is because I never felt like those characters were#I felt... uncomfortable writing it not because i thought fanfic was bad or anything but because I felt it was weird to write for example#“XYZ DID THIS AND DID THAT AND DID THIS” like maybe he did?? I wouldn't know I don't know him like his creator!!!#But comic characters feel like more flexible due to the many interpretations over the years but firm enough where I can decide how to take#Certain traits and minimize them or expand on them#Also 1 to 1 adaptations suck balls to write. I'm not sure if that's universal but the whole fun of writing is coming up with new ideas#Writing a straight adaptation would be kind of writing a translation into a new medium. Which isn't bad. Novelization are literally those#But a common sentiment among writers I've seen is that Novelizations aren't that fun either unless you get to experiment either#Adapting comics into a new format and retelling them is kind of hell because you have all these intersecting plotlines and insane events#That's just tangled up in a story with a timeline that literally makes its contradictions into plot lines. But it's FUN coming up with ways#To condense a character's origin and sort of rewire it into the story you want to tell. Because yeah I think a lot of people miss is#that at end of the day#you tell stories about people and their struggles. You need to find a way to fit those moments of joy sadness love.#Like a movie about Jason Todd being RH will never be emotional as Jason Todd dying because you'll have less time to feel the love and pain#that Bruce felt for him. Like sure#flashbacks and exposition but that can only go so far. At the end of the day#It will always be about RH vs Batman. That's what people came to see. But that's not all Jason is. He was Robin before he was RH. A 1 to 1#Adaptation will never translate that to screen. Plus you (sadly) have shared universes now and a movie can only jump around in time so much#For example in my fic if I wanted to add Tim and faithful to his source material I would need to add so MUCH about Jason death#About like Bruce grieving without skipping all over that and missing the human element. It would severely mess up pacing.#I don't know i love how adaptations can make you see the characters in a new light or elevate the source material#Iwtv my beloved doesn't adapt the books exactly but reimagined in it a way that I like much more#Anyway this proves my point about comic fans being weirdly childish and omfg I hate to use this term...anti intellectual 😮💨😮💨😮💨#Everyone who writes or yknow reads should like understand this on a fundamental level. One to one adaptations are safe but boring.#Like the Psycho remake was bad not because it made bad changes but it barely made any changes.#Anyway watch amc iwtv to understand good adaptations better than your average comic stan on twtter#Not a rant I just love discussing adaptations#Long tags
6 notes
·
View notes