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true-blue-megamind · 4 years ago

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What Makes Hal a Great Villain?

Okay, I’m saying it upfront: this one is going to get a little dark and very real. Potential triggers for harassment, stalking, sexual predation. Nothing graphic or heavy, of course, but if these are especially highly sensitive subjects for you, please proceed with caution.

Also, SPOILER ALERT for anyone who has not yet watched the animated awesomeness that is Megamind. (If you are that person, the DVD is on sale on Amazon, and the movie is available to stream on NowTV. Go watch it. I’ll wait.)

We all know Megamind is an awesome protagonist--multi-layered, relatable, and surprisingly complex-- but, truthfully, his antagonist is just as interesting. In fact, when compared with other animated villains of the early 2000′s, he’s by far the most memorable... and the most terrifying.

Many may question my assessment. I mean, let’s be honest: this guy doesn’t exactly look like the face of evil. But make no mistake: Hal, who later becomes Titan, is an extremely scary person.

I don’t want to leave readers with the impression that this character is one-sided, however, so before we get started on just what makes this fellow complete nightmare fuel, let’s look briefly at a few of the other reasons that Hal makes a fascinating Bad Guy.

One of my favorite things about Hal’s character arch is that it defies expectations. Superhero comics have a long tradition of Average Nobodies who somehow receive extraordinary powers and go on to save the city. Or the world. Or the universe. You get the idea. Many comic book fans, upon watching Megamind for the first time, probably expected Hal to do the same, but he doesn’t. In fact, he goes rogue, choosing to use his newly-obtained gifts for wanton destruction. Thus the film inverts the established trope.

Like the protagonist he faces, (and is thankfully conquered by,) Hal is complex, and his true nature reveals itself slowly. I’ve heard some people say that they actually felt a bit sorry for him in the first scene he appears, as he awkwardly tries to express his feelings to reporter Roxanne Ritchi. At first he seemed like nothing worse than a socially inept and sexually frustrated nerd. Only as the move progressed, and the aforementioned viewers saw his creepiness more clearly, did they begin to revile him. One of the many clever things about the movie is that the gradual development provides audiences with the experience of slowly getting to know the characters. While Megamind is the somewhat anarchical Goth who worries you a little at first, but whose heart of gold has you loving him once you really understand him, Hal is that guy you really, really regret talking to at a party. You know, the one who quickly starts sending your internal Creep-o-Meter off the scale and persistently follows you around for the rest of the night. This is, indeed, part of what makes Hal disturbing; just like real villains, he hides in plain sight, wearing the guise of an ordinary fellow.

Which brings us back to the scary part. Even before he gets superpowers, Hal is bad guy deep down. He’s a creep and a stalker. He harasses Roxanne at work and keeps pestering her for a date no matter how many times she says no. Either consciously or unconsciously, he assumes that she’s shallow, and that once he has a muscular body and a bevy of godlike abilities, she’ll fawn on him. The idea that he himself might be the problem never seems to occur to him. In fact, he seems to feel that she will then owe him her affection. This is because, even before becoming Titan, Hal appears to have an overblown sense of self-importance and an unrealistic concept about what he deserves. (I go into detail about that in an earlier post, Megamind and Identity, which you can read here.) The fact that he doesn’t get what he feels is his right seems to have created a deep-seeded bitterness in him that rises to the surface once he obtains power.

But Hal really is the problem. His combined possessive harassment and complete lack of empathy are exactly why Roxanne neither likes nor trusts him. And she’s right to feel that way. Almost immediately after gaining his powers, now feeling that he is above society’s rules, Titan begins revealing just how terrible of a person he really is. He uses his supervision to spy on Roxanne while he and Megamind (disguised as Space Dad) are in the park, and that must not be the only incident because he later tells Roxanne: “I know everything about you.” This is just before he grabs her off of her balcony, without her consent, and begins throwing her around like a rag doll, terrifying her and putting her life in real danger because, apparently, he thinks she’ll be impressed.

Yeah. This guy is pretty much human garbage.

Once he finally understands (more or less) that Roxanne really means it when she says she’s not interested, Hal/Titan reveals himself to be a man-child. He begins by using his abilities for selfish and criminal reasons, essentially stating that he doesn’t feel heroism is worth his time. When he learns that Megamind has been dating Roxanne, (albeit in disguise,) he reacts with violence. This is because Megamind, like Hal himself, is an outsider: unpopular, unwelcome, and considered unattractive by most of the population of Metro City. In Hal’s mind, this revelation highlights the fact that none of these factors were the cause of Roxanne’s rejection, leaving only he himself to blame. (In fact, the movie contrasts Megamind, who, although imperfect, respects Roxanne’s wishes and intelligence, with Hal, who basically views her as an object to be won. Again, you can read more about that in Megamind and Identity.) Hal can’t handle that. He can’t accept it. So instead he turns his rage on the city as a whole. (This is despite the fact that, deep down, Hal knows he is the problem, hence why he rejects his identity as Hal and fully embraces the new one as Titan. That’s illustrated by his final line before abandoning Roxanne on Metro Tower: “It’s Titan, not Hal!”)

Hal abuses his power, and society suffers as a result. Even then, however, Hal/Titan still tries to lay claim to Roxanne. He accuses Megamind of “stealing his girlfriend,” and later tells Roxanne: “Let me guess, after seeing how awesome I am, you’ve come to your senses.” All the way to the end, Hal still can’t quite seem to accept that reality is not following his design.

If the idea of a man who lets power go to his head, objectifies women, won’t take “no” for an answer, and reacts violently when denied what he feels he’s owed sounds familiar, that’s because it is. Humanity has a huge problem with these sorts of behaviors, ranging from sexism and sexual predation to unfeeling abuses of power. The Sarah Everard case in London, and the fact that several officials essentially blamed the victim, asking why Sarah was walking home alone rather than asking why some guy felt he had the right to attack her, is the most recent well-known testament to this, but it’s sadly far from the only one. A.J. White said it best in his YouTube video, The Terror of the Incel Superman, when he expressed that news archives are full of stories about women being murdered by the sort of overgrown boys who can’t accept their refusals. And although men of that sort do not have the ability to fly or shoot lasers out of their eyes, some of them do rise to social and political power. They are Hals.

That is exactly what makes this character so especially scary. Unlike more farcical supervillains, he is based upon something that truly exists. Preternatural abilities aside, Hal is terrifying because he is very real. Let’s just hope our world will see more Megaminds willing to stand up to them. #BeMegamindNotHal

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prairiedust · 4 years ago

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More Last Holiday Musings...

I want to poke at that interdimensional geoscope a little more, because upon reading it over again, I think I splashed it up a little fast and there are a couple of points I’d like to be clearer about. I meant to queue this up to post last night but also want it to be up before Gimme Shelter so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This is more blue curtains lit crit with a dash of folklore and an honorable mention for post-structuralism. And we’re talking about Supernatural after all, so this is sort of... well, it’s about endings.

Last Holiday was not a typical “filler” or even a typical MOTW episode. It felt extremely insular, possibly more so than any other episode I can think at any other point in the series. As opposed to the usual crowd of “locals,” a spate of victims, and a couple of red herring suspects, the only other people in this ep besides the Winchesters (including Jack) and Mrs. Butters were the two vampires and Cuthbert Sinclair. There was no “case” as in a usual MOTW-- there was no Chuck Struggle, either, and the lack of mytharc was strange against the lack of “filler” schema. That lack of “MOTW investigation” marked this episode also as being about “curiosity”-- the Winchesters all-too-quickly took Mrs. Butters for granted-- Dean even dismissed her as a “Magic Roomba” and that seemed to settle the matter. Furthermore, the moment that Dean spotted Mrs. B in his room, the stage was set for Antics ™ when she held up his goofy Scooby boxers, and indeed a zaniness, an almost manic energy drove the action forward at a breakneck pace. [Spoiler alert, we do get “investigation” in the next episode, 15x15 Gimme Shelter, as stills and the preview show that Castiel and Jack will be teaming up together, in yet another shake-up of the usual “MOTW” template, almost like we can expect the other side of a coin when Sam and Dean switch places with Cas...] These features set Last Holiday apart as not so much “filler” as “between,” as in there was struggle before, and there will be struggle after, but for a while there was cake. (Contrast this to the usual “peril of the threshold” that usually shrouds liminality if you’d like.)

At the end of Last Holiday, however, we finally get to find out what that old blue telescope really is, and with that name we get confirmation that there are no more alternate universes-- Chuck has burned them all. Viewers are left to come to the conclusion that in retrospect the telescope-thing could have changed the course of season 13 completely. The reveal is played off as darkly funny, but it’s also kind of a gut-wrenching moment, too. All the heartbreak of the last two and a half years, reviewed now through the lens of “if only.” If only they’d known about Mrs. Butters from the time they found the bunker, “none of this would have happened”… they’d have had monster radar, they’d have had the geoscope, they would have had supernatural help of a completely different level.

The temptation to read Last Holiday as a Chuck-free episode is strong, but fraught-- the threat of Chuck’s involvement has been established by a pattern this season (well the pattern is woven throughout the whole series really but Dabb has deliberately structured these last three seasons with an exponentially increasing frequency.) I feel like we’ve been conditioned this season in particular to hold ourselves in a perpetual flinch, to be afraid of what we’ll learn “in retrospect.” That geoscope was really_good_subtext, and it is entirely possible, even encouraged, at this point in the plot to take information we’ve learned from the naming of the object, examine our own conditioned response to this episode, and apply both things to the structure of the season so far and make a prediction as to what might happen in the main plot. That’s what I mean about subtext getting loud. We’ve been given the green-light to make a prediction about The Struggle and march forward with it, and see if we will be correct by extrapolating the pattern, or if that expectation will be subverted (the twist is set up to run either way, so either outcome is satisfying.) It is Melville-esque architecture of the highest degree;I could write another thousand words just about that. So I have a prediction that I’m hanging on to, because of what we’ve learned from the geoscope, and what kinds of clues were hung up in Last Holiday, and I’m super excited to either have my hunch confirmed or be frightfully and delightedly surprised. I mean, where the fuck did Jeremy Adams even come from? He’s like our own Mrs. Butters, showing up in the last quarter to run a couple game-changing balls into the end zone, it’s bonkers. I mean, I know writing mysteries is hard and requires still AND cunning, but damn, son.

But anyway, back to the geoscope…

I’m perplexed, from a very “lit crit” perspective, but this is where I’m at and why I referenced blue curtains-- if you shine too bright a light on subtext, does it evaporate-- like looking through an interdimensional geoscope and not seeing anything-- or is “subtext” sometimes not some ephemeral fever-dream that we as viewers conjure up through our experiential interlocution with the text but something a writer has steeped into the narrative as part of their craft? Or when you’re talking about an evolving iteration of writers, is it possible that one picks up a thread that another wove in for something else, repurposing or amplifying it? And, when perhaps is something deliberately instilled in the text in order to become “text” at just the right time? In Moby Dick, [spoiler alert lol] Quequeg’s coffin-- formerly one of many symbolic vehicles used to foreshadow the doom of the Pequod-- is repurposed as a life buoy and becomes the actual object that saves Ishmael’s life, transforming it from a portent of disaster to a symbol of salvation and then to one of Ishmael’s guilt for surviving Ahab’s madness-- the guilt that had been made text by the very opening line of the book, “Call me Ishmael.” In retrospect, the connotations of wandering, exile and salvation behind the name that the narrator gives himself become crystal clear. The problem that the post-structuralist model of “reading” as simultaneously “creating the text” has manufactured is that the idea that “subtext” can often be discounted as something dreamed up wholecloth by the reader, and thus inferior, imaginary, even delusional (and I use that last word knowing what a loaded term that is in the spn fandom, but this is not about a ship, even) where once it was considered to be a valid and measurable part of the text itself, like that dang coffin. It was the basement, the underpinnings, the catacombs below the opera house sure, but it helped to hold up the structure. And for some reason, putting subtext into a piece of media has become passe, or cringe? Anyway, not to be bitter on main but it didn’t used to be this way, at least not in the heady early days of postmodernism. So that green light? Critical hit against blue curtains. And while yes, some readings are going to be better supported than others, and the wild variety of checklists in this fandom mean that some conclusions have been drawn which can’t pan out, if you’re paying attention to the structure, the subtexts, the alchemical/psychoanalytical/postmodern themata, the ending will be very satisfying.

So. What was once speculated to be a symbol for emotional lows or turning points (among other things) in the bunker was textually hit with a bright green light, then Dean got curious about it in text, and we were told-- in text-- that oh it’s just a fancy spyglass, and now that the other worlds are gone, it has no purpose…. that’s what I mean about the geoscope now being “pure”-- it wasn’t clear whether the telescope ever had any function, subtetxtual or not, and now that it’s certain what it’s “function” was, it’s now freed up as a “symbol”-- unless like in Moby Dick it’s new “purpose” is revealed later, but right now it’s caught in this liminal place of not-quite-clue and not-quite-metaphor...

However, and I didn’t put this in my first post because I was trying to be fast and not a wet blanket, but I felt like finally naming the geoscope was an ending.

This is literally Singer, Dabb, and Co tidying up the house before locking it behind them.

I think when Dean said he didn’t see anything through the “telescope thing,” that we’re to understand that maybe this was the last hurrah of the cute, zany, campy “subtext” or even “metatext” if you’d rather that so many of us have been parsing and which has gotten so weird and bright since season 12/13. I think I said in one of the folklore posts that writing about some of the things I write about feels like making daisy chains in the endzone during the big game. Which is fun, that’s how I personally got through having to be in AYSO soccer for four years, by looking for four leafed clovers and eating orange quarters. And we got a wood nymph in this episode, textually even, so I could easily check the “folklore” box on this one. But the sheer euphoria of Last Holiday and all the sparkles it brought into the story aren’t meant to last. When you look back on fifteen years of text, a lot of it is bleak, miserable stuff. That’s not to say that episodes like Yellow Fever and Hunteri Heroici and Fan Fiction et al shouldn’t be celebrated. But I think from here on out, things are going to be less “golly gee, three birthdays!” and more “There she blows! --there she blows! A hump like a snowhill!”

This episode was a gift in many ways, not just for the sense of glee it transmitted-- it also did so much work and there are things I want to yell about in the way language was hit, the red versus green lighting, the way the backwards holidays worked, the projector as a metaphor for Mrs. B projecting her regrets and fears onto Jack, the amount of food that was created and consumed, how that smoothie was also an echo of “fairy food” or an underworld pact if you squint-- but the stakes are so high now. We haven’t been shown the next valley-- there was no final scene of Chuck rubbing his hands together like the villain from a melodrama, for example-- but the last image we got was Jack blowing out a candle. After the candle is blown out, the cake is dismantled and consumed. Once the story is over, all the themes that are so hard to grapple in a text like a television show can be gathered up and analyzed. (IS that all, though? After all, Dean made his own cake later, which, like, echoes of the “oh two cakes” comic lol...)

Since I really never want to leave anything I toss out on this blog on a last note of doom and gloom, however, I do want to say that I too understand what that last image meant. It meant, as Sam said, make a wish. Think of the future, think of free will, and hope for something wonderful to happen. (or do like me and wonder what the hell Jack wished for with dread and anticipation ha ha ha.)

#the poststructuralism of supernatural #the folklore of supernatural #no more tags right now #tag later

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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 4 years ago

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fic snapshots of the W. & S. four

Now that I’ve introduced my OCs from the Wellsworth and Suddery Railway, I’ve gotten ambitious... about sharing a scene featuring Linda, the Ulverston, and Santa Claus. (Sort of.)

But first, a few of their appearances in the WWI-era fic. Not necessary to read for Linda!fic, but helpful in establishing what this lot is like. :) (Spoiler alert: Way beyond salty. Way beyond.)

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I showed this one before... but I shamelessly love having my OCs call out FC1 in-universe: “What’s ‘electrified’?” asked Thomas, briefly checking in with some freshly-loaded trucks.

“Too big a word for an engine of your years,” snarled the Hemel. “Get a move on.”

“Ugh.” Thomas eyed the Hemel with frank dislike, on a whole new level than the main line engines. “What are you doing here?”

“Subbing in, coz apparently you’re too delicate, to handle one of these.”

“I am not delicate!”

“Have you told Papa Hatt as much?” sneered the Hemel. “Trust me, I’m not thrilled, either. Get us sorted, Brighton—sooner I get this over with, sooner I can go back to Wellsworth!” ----------------------------------

Oh yeah did I mention way back in 1915-6 the Ulverston was supposed to mentor Edward as he learned to handle goods? Yeah, precisely 0.018 fucks were given. Here is where the .018 comes in: The Ulverston gave him a particularly hooded gaze, which seemed to lack scorn only with the greatest reluctance, and against all habit.

“That’s not bad method, in the main,” he allowed. “The only thing is, you’ve picked the wrong truck for it. The others, they’re a hive. They get ginned up and then they get lose interest, based on what the next one in line is doing. That one, Awdie his name is, he’s got a mind of his own. Worst kind of truck—a truck with notions. He’s a stubborn bastard, too.”

“Oh,” said 125 flatly. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Yeah. Reckon I ought to have warned you about him, engine-to-engine, like. In my defense, none of us thought you'd last this long.”

“Well, what else should I know to last a bit longer, then?”

“Oh, pish posh. You’ve come this far. I’d hate to get under your wheels now.” ---------------------------------- When you have provoked 36 to hard language in mixed company, then you’ve been Very Provoking Indeed.

Bonus cameo by the same stationmaster who appeared in the meme:

They had never imagined such a horror. River, for all his sense and worldliness, was still so new as to not yet have seen a serious accident… and none of them had ever seen an accident that left an engine utterly faceless.

For a moment, the fire of every engine there flickered desperately. Araby’s and River’s snuffed out altogether.

“Oh,” Araby groaned, with more empathy than one might have expected, from Araby. Then 36 remembered that Araby was to have been in this trial himself, if his controller hadn’t withheld permission.

The fireman had run the final half mile. “We have to clear the the signalbox!” he hollered. “Get one of this lot out there straight away.”

Every crew was dubious. Their engines were frozen.

“C’mon, boy.” It was River’s driver. He was closest to the switch, and to the poor engine that it looked like the hand of God or devil had reached in and half pulled inside-out. ��Look lively.”

River muttered something wild and Scots. It sounded like a prayer.

The driver tried to make him start, but River had lost all boiler pressure, and his brakes wouldn’t unlock.

“Oh, you young mainland lot are pathetic,” said the Farager, all hard, vicious cheer. She was enjoying this.

“May-maybe we just run on, on fires.” Araby’s voice shook too wildly for its usual snap.

“Any of us on my line would haul that poor old sod to the Works, no problem!”

“That's because your line is run entirely by bitter old bastards,” retorted 36. He would much rather glare at the Farager than look anywhere in the direction of the smoking, horrifying scene. He wasn’t sure his own fire would survive a second glance. “I’m still in plenty of steam, stationmaster. We can add him to my train, and at least get him to Ballahoo.”

“You are the right choice for it,” the stationmaster agreed, voice grim, “but the train can wait. It’s nothing but stone—it gets there when it gets there. That poor engine might be conscious. You’ll show us a nice turn of speed, won’t you?”

It was a kindness to the possibly-conscious engine. But 36 himself had second, third, and even some fourth thoughts about having volunteered, once he had to couple up directly to the injured party. He gave one violent shudder—but then steeled himself, under the Farager’s horrible, beady, amused gaze. She deserved no further satisfaction.

#'in my defense...'#ttte fic #ttte thomas #ttte edward #ttte oc #ttte oc: the hemel #ttte oc: the ulverston #ttte oc: 124/36 #ttte oc: the farager #fic snippets #ttte: wwi #ttte oc: awdie #i gotta get a proper awdie chapter posted sometime #he might be the best wwi OC #'awdie' is a faded verison of 'awdry' he's a private truck for the company that graded the T. E. & K. (iirc)

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richiestudy · 4 years ago

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Mind Blind is my favourite WIP right now. It’s just... incredible. I’ve played it like 15 times. @mindblindbard deserves inordinate amounts of cash and joy thrown at them for their sheer talent, awesome writing and loveable ROs.

Anyways! I got bored, so I made my Mind Blind Buttons in Artbreeder! It was really fun, even though I know nobody cares.

God, they’re all such hot messes (minus you, Pippa, the only functional one). I love them so much. Except Mitzi, who is a garbage fire of a person.

Edit: I now realise that I posted this to the wrong blog but I’m too lazy to retype the tags, so... I guess it’s staying here!

Interactive Fiction is the only thing giving me serotonin in college anyways so just vibe with me, okay? Okay.

---

Pippa Wiseman - Super confident and self-assured. Bubbly by nature. High interpersonal skills. Often underestimated or thought of as an airhead; prone to fits of fun-loving mischief. Not sure whether she wants to kiss or kill Rosy. (Spoiler alert - these two things are not mutually exclusive! It’s both!)

Mitzi Wiseman - Mean as all fuck. A real hostile Button indeed. Subsists on resentment and pure hatred. Nick chewed her out real good for wishing he was dead in that hospital room and she deserved it. No RO but the only person on the planet she didn’t alienate was Glitch. I don’t know what that says about her.

Alexander Wiseman - *slaps roof* This bad boy can fit so much self-loathing in it! Morbid kiddo. Irritable and bitter, but not cruel. Terrified of hurting his loved ones again, so he shuts them out. Tall - looking for a ceiling high enough to... you get it. This is one Button that needs an intervention, alright. Talents include cowering away from Rosy and majorly pining over his crush, Sally.

Genevieve Wiseman - My fave girl; funny and super loving. Really into cute pastel retro skirts. Humour and repression as a coping mechanism, babey! The sweetest Button I have. Her relationship with Nick is the best out of this Button bunch. Highkey cried over Kent at first; still set on that Bali honeymoon though.

#Mind Blind #MindBlind #mindblindbard #mind blind mc #mind blind cog #button #button wiseman #wiseman #oc: pippa wiseman #oc: mitzi wiseman #oc: alexander wiseman #oc: genevieve wiseman

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willowistic22 · 4 years ago

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Ms. Medda Larkin Headcanons!

No one asked for these but yknow what? I did!! I’m suppose to be doing my chemistry homework but like that’s still due till next week and I just can’t wait any longer from sharing my Ms. Medda Larkin headcanons in modern au. I’m not gonna write abt her in any near future fics just yet but just know she exists, she’s valid, and I love her with all my heart. Get ready yall!!

So in canon era she’s a performer, right? In modern era, she still is. She’s a Broadway sensation! In her younger years at least.

The older she got, the harder it was to keep up with all the energetic dancing most shows require.

She was quite sad when she slowly starts to realize being on Broadway would only get harder and harder as she continues to age.

But with such an interesting character and amazing reputation, Hollywood snatched her and got her to star in many movies! It wasn’t the musical kind of acting, which she’s more familiar with, but it was still acting and it always made her happy so she gave it a try.

And as it turns out, working with Hollywood has made her rediscover something in her that she had never consider herself: Directing!

Ms. Medda is hella good at it! So many interesting and diverese stories are shared on Hollywood by her.

When she directs, she doesn’t just make a good movie and have her star as the main character. No. She uses her talent/job/passion as an outlet for younger actors/actresses to be heard!

When the younger people started to take her place in Broadway, she was quite bitter. But then seeing them thrive, living their dreams, it only reminds Ms. Medda about herself when she first made her Broadway debut.

She loves seeing young talent and can’t wait to share more of it to the world!

But since she’s turned into a Hollywood director, she moves to LA but still kept her condo??? house??? mansion??? haven’t figured that part out yet whoops in Manhattan for the times she will be visiting New York.

And she begins to start returning to New York every now and again once she finally gets a chance to direct a Broadway play. And GOD was she excited to be able to go back to her roots!

Despite having the love for directing now, Ms. Medda still misses the singing. She used to release back to back to back albums. She writes her own lyrics too.

Ms. Medda slowly starts to get back to singing. She keeps the classic jazz genre she’s known for. Face it, pop does not go well for her. And it’s those kind of old school jazz. Saxophone solo, upbeat drumbeat, cello for base, killer piano, all that stuff ya know.

She has many fans. Globally. And not only from older people that’s been a fan since her Broadway debut, Ms. Medda starts to attract a younger audience. The teenagers and young adults that appreciated the arts a little more than most ppl.

With the fame Ms. Medda’s been given, she uses it for good. She’s a human rights activist, civil rights activist, LGBTQ activist, climate activist, and a HUGE feminist.

She just wants to do her part in making the world a better place!!

Now, what’s her relations with the newsies in modern au? Lemme tell you: she’s very close with Jack’s parents.

His mother is a close friend to Medda ever since Jack’s a tiny baby. I mean, no shit, she’s his godmother lol

She’s so kind, sweet, gentle, and very loving towards many ppl. Unless it’s like a homophobe or sumn, she won’t hesitate to cut them out of her life.

And Jack loves to hang out with Ms. Medda bcs he thinks she’s the coolest person ever! One of the reasons why Jack got into painting in the first place too!

Mrs Kelly: who taught my child to paint? Ms Medda: whaaat? idk what ur talking abt!! Mrs Kelly: he’s going to paint all over my walls, Medda!!! Ms Medda: Jack is a good child. He’d never do such a thing!

Spoiler alert: young Jack Kelly, indeed, painted and drew all over their walls.

#newsies #Modern Newsies #headcanons #ms medda #ms medda newsies #ms medda larkin

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cranberry-crawg · 5 years ago

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The Misadventures Of DaddyZ In Search For Mrs. B

NOT a fanfic..a FanTheory

Hey Zed fans out there!

In the new dlc GL&T, at the start of the Gondola quest when you click on Gaige she has several conversation prompts. There is one that mentions Zed and his wedding and...well this is what she says:

**WARNING: potential bl3 new DLC (GL&T) SPOILER ALERT** [read at your own risk.]

GAIGE: "We’ve had some hiccups but this isn’t the worst wedding I have planned by a long shot, heh! The only way Zed’s wedding could’ve gone worse is if he’d actually gone through with it! Bullet dodged! Well, actually...a lot of people weren’t able to dodge."

Note: This post is purely speculation and still very fresh and perhaps premature so please take all this with a grain of salt and as one person’s own findings and opinions.. this is not actual fact.

I’ll be covering my theories below..read if your curious.

Who. What. When. Why.

When:

Timeline- Somewhere between the end of BL2 and the beginning of BL3.

Five years before BL3 to be exact.

Reason- Gaige was only recently doing the wedding planning schindig.

Who:

Tannis?

Mystery Person?

Blast from the Past?

Misc.?

Why:

Tannis- Although there is somewhat of an indication that this is the plausible answer from BL2s last dlc, Commander Lilith. Here’s why I think it isn’t Tannis and more likely a new character.

*Slight BL3 GL&T SPOILERS*

The wedding gift quest, one gift you find is from Tannis. Her sentiments give no hint (or bitterness), at her being previously betrothed.

With that said, Gaige would have likely commented something if indeed she was Tannis and Zed’s wedding planner, but nothing.

Further speculation, if it was Tannis, she was obviously over it by BL3 considering she disgustingly swoons over that annoying ugly little toad, Typhon DeLeon……as a matter of fact she doesn’t seemed bothered by it in any shape or form.

Which, if we all know Tannis.. I feel she’d hold more resentment and ill feelings about a wedding gone wrong and towards Zed. She’d make it known she was left at the altar. I don’t see her letting that part go so easily.

So the Tannis theory is somewhat of a dead end. And if anything happened between her and Zed it may have just been a brief fling, but not leading to marriage.

***Special Mention: I LOVE @Ladytalon1’s theory about Zed being heartbroken over Tannis’ rejection and rebounds only to still have feelings for Tannis in the end and it ultimately leads to his weddings demise..pretty interesting!

But..imo I speculate it’s a new character…

Mystery Person or Blast From the Past?

Mystery Person- could lead to an interesting dlc. Attempting to win Zed back or getting their revenge.

Blast from the Past- Could delve into a cool dlc regarding Zed pre-med, pre borderlands timeline..dare I say, young Zed.*faints*

From what Gaige says, it sounds like this Mystery Person was bad news and everyone but Zed noticed it…( “Bullet Dodged” and , “..the only way Zed’s wedding could’ve gone worse is if he’d actually through with it.”) Hinting this person or situation was bad from the start.

But this is all speculation..

What:

What happened?!???

Your guess is as good as mine.

My biggest question is.. was Zed the one who didn’t go through with it? Or was he not able to? ..bc it sure sounds like his wedding was crashed.

And if his wedding was crashed, who were the crashers?

Could one of his brothers, Ned or Ted have something to do with it?

Perhaps this is where we get a Ted dlc.

And again why…

Jealousy? Forbidden love? Sibling Rivalry? Backstabbing? Cheating? Ah! The list can go on!

Conclusively, I really don't know 'who' Zed was betrothed to. And yes it's really going to drive me a bit crazy. But I think the only factual information is the timeline. Zed must have met someone between bl2 and bl3 (so within 5 years). Although my headcanon is shocked Zed would be the one with cold feet. I am SUPER curious who the lucky, (ultimately unlucky) gal was.

All I hope, and all I can do is hope, is that our beloved Zeddybabe finds a decent, good, charismatic person who is going to treat him right and give him plenty of goooooood loving. Because DaddyZ deserves it!

..and honestly I'm surprised Zed has been single for this long. I mean we can all agree he's hot af.. what is not to love about this man!?

Thank you if you’ve made it this far! And…….

CONGRATULATIONS! You’ve leveled up in Cranberry-crawg literature. Now a Novice CC reader!

What are your speculations?

I’d love to hear your theories!

#Blanco-Tribe for all Zed fans, but also so I can easily track your responses.

Cheers!

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19-falls · 5 years ago

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jumbled thoughts on crash landing on you (2020).

ㅡ this is nowhere near what you’d call a ‘review’.

spoiler alert!

First of all, I might need to say that I initially had no plan on watching this show. It’s pretty understandable considering that I recently lost interest on being the avid drama watcher I was, and now shifting more on films & books. You see...if you watch too many dramas, it’s totally normal to get bored of it (i mean the overused tropes???typical plot???) and just staying away from it. It’s not helping that recent shows I’ve watched are lackluster at best, and I haven’t been able to found a good one in a while. But I was just recently subscribed to Netflix, and this pops up more than I’d want it to, which brought me to mindlessly clicking the first episode due to boredom I’ve had for not watching any shows in MONTHS and the rest is history. I wasn’t that excited for starting this one to be frankly, due to endless spoilers I’ve gotten from twt and I had been mad over it. I was in a state where I knew how this’d end, but goes for it anyways because I have nothing to do.

The scriptwriter for this particular show is also the one who wrote You Who Came from the Stars (2013) and Legend of the Blue Sea (2017), and I wasn’t exactly a big fan of her writing. And the very troupe that I immensely dislike on the afore-mentioned shows was included on this drama as well. This scriptwriter seems to have a huge liking for putting out thriller-like tone on a romance drama, and it didn’t sit well for my preferences. If you’ve watched these three shows, you’d know all the leads are ALWAYS having dangerous encounter with villains and near-death experiences you’d rarely see in romcoms. It bugged me off how much she seems glued to this troupe and constantly having it on three representative shows she’s writing for, and these are honestly one of my ultimate reason for not doing rewatches for her dramas (I think CLOY could be an obvious exception due to the stellar casting choices for the leads; i’ll explain this later). Not a lot of people could do a well-written thriller-romance, and hers weren’t ones of those. It takes a fair and well-balanced tone to make it work, but in these shows, it just feels like constant fillers and a complete try-hard to make this unpredictable, when all we know that it’s nearly impossible to kill the leads (which I might be wrong while making this seamless assumption but okay).

The biggest downside for the writing style for these shows (bcs I’m not just talking about cloy ㅡit applies just the same for ywcfts and lotbs) is the very inability of Park Ji-eun scriptwriter-nim to write at least a DECENT ending for her shows. And that, my friend, is why I wouldn’t give this perfect score despite my unlimited praises in terms of acting, when I knew how good it’d be if she just let go of her obsession for making the ending ‘impactful’ (which seems to be horribly received by the audiences), and just write a proper ending for ONCE. It’s a big shame it didn’t happen on this drama (*disappointed but not suprised*), but I won’t stop hoping nonetheless. She has a knack for writing witty & entertaining script with great cast ensemble, and that’s why despite my dislike for some of the traits of her shows, I still watch them anyways.

Aside for the poorly-written ending, while I found the editing for first half of the show a lil bit tacky sometimes (especially when it needed CGI), Crash Landing on You also suffers from unnecessary lengthy duration (mostly because it hit big domestically and internationally and the creators get greedy which is never a good thing) that could have been made effective if they weren’t spent so long on shallowly written villainous role which seems to be written for the sake of unpredictability (and was acted wonderfully by Oh Man-suk with its limited character background given). It happened as well on YWCFTS and LOTBS, and again, if you’ve seen those two shows, you’d know how similar the pattern for the plot of CLOY compared to them. If you love them, then it’d work out good for CLOY as well, and if it’s not (like me), then you’d know what kind of writing style Park Ji-eun’s best at along with her worst features on the shows.

DO THESE LISTED-DOWN FLAWS MEAN I’M NOT ENJOYING THE SHOW?

NO.

In fact, I’m enjoying it a whole lot more than I did with ywcfts and lotbs.

What ultimately sets cloy apart from the two shows is the leads’ acting compability. With ywcts and lotbs, it’s no doubt and much obvious to see that Jun Ji-hyun greatly overshadowed her acting opponentㅡplaying on roles she’s best at, be it as a spoiled popular actress and clueless mermaid. She’s just that good on playing roles that doesn’t have any calmness to it; and more like crazy and freeing women who knows no boundaries. Although her emotional acting was very much in good quality, as well. And because of this very fact, both her costars couldn’t have the equal amount of spotlight, mostly because the characterization for her character (and how she added flavor to that) is much stronger compared to what could be expected from the male leads who, most of the time, don’t share similar traits like hers. I still say that Kim Soo-hyun’s performances on ywcfts are definitely good enough to pair up with Jun Ji-hyun, but I couldn’t say that he’s on his best role despite it prolly being one of his widely known ones.

On this show, Hyun Bin and Son Ye-jin could be said on a similar level for acting capability. Though Son Ye-jin wins out more because of the scriptwriter’s tendency on making her female lead stood out due to their strong characterization, it worked okay because Hyun Bin does match her energy and it just contributed to the fact that he’s a visually good looking actor but still manage to be very damn good at acting as well. And it’s rare to see actors like that on dramaland, you know. Most of widely popular actors seems to stick on one role and never grows from that, but despite his flopped works (yes I’m still bitter on how ineffectiively used he was on Hyde Jekyll and Me) before he started to hit big again after Memoir of Alhambra, ones that had paid attention to his works would know that Hyun Bin, is indeed, good at acting, especially on showcasing his detailed expressions added to the role he’s given. His performances on Secret Garden still awes me to no end, and I’m happy to see that powerful raw acting capability again while he potrayed Ri Jeong-hyeok in this show.

And Son Ye-jin?This show is just another valid proof that she’s more than a “Melo Queen” people seems to have loved her for. The bratty, spoiled and even brazen acting she’s showed on the drama was incredibly well-acted. Her chemistry with her co-stars were fantastic. Of course, I shouldn’t have to say anything about her acting qualityㅡshe’s just THAT good. And I love her more on roles like this; where she could freely show off her capability as an actress on a broader spectrum, rathen than her usual melancholic roles in most of her films. I thought she was a lil bit wasted when she chose to play on Something on the Rain, so thank god she accepted the offer for this show!

And their chemistry is totally off-the-charts, fyi. I might have recently added them on my personal top list for being the most visually good looking couple I’ve ever seen on kdramas with explosive chemistry which I greatly appreciate, and YES I have seen a lot to know that their magnetic presences for each other is like no other. A lil bit biased but okaayyy.

From the leads alone, this is just an absolute must-to-watch show. It’s incredibly rare to see such good performers to helm a show on romance dramas these days. And the most suprising thing is how they doesn’t lose out to the second leads. Seo Ji-hye and Kim Jung-hyun were great on their own feet, but Hyun Bin and Son Ye-jin were just so good on this show that I ALMOST couldn’t care less about the second leads. They grew on me though, and THAT ENDING HURT ME.

And the rest of the casts???Just pure goodness. Everyone has their own color, from the neighborhood moms, the clueless & silly team but still one of my favorite bits to watch, to the villainous role. Everyone’s just doing so great on their role that I couldn’t pick on anything about them. All the characters are the the life of this show. If you’re more of a character-driven drama person, you’d enjoy this immensely.

And it’s so fascinating how they could maintained the light-heartedness of the show to the very end albeit a couple of finale episodes getting so dramatic & hits more emotional beats than usual. I mean, THIS SHOW FEELS LIKE A COMICAL TYPE OF DRAMA SOMETIMES BECAUSE IT WAS THAT HILARIOUS T.T One of the best traits from Park Ji-eun’s scriptwriter, if I might add. Not to mention, the soundtracks!My favorite is Davichi’s by the way :)

I still have a lot of praises for the acting part, because it feels refreshing to see such a well-acted drama while getting so much popularity at the very same time. With dramas like Descendant of the Sun, Goblin, and more internationally well-received kdramas out there, I still find it hard to choose a drama that has leads with equal amount of respect, trust, and purely in love just as much as they are to each other like this one. Most of romance dramas heavily relies on either the woman or man to be a lil bit more in love with their respective partners, but it wasn’t the case with this one. And that is why despite my constant rant & nitpick for the show, I still consider this as one of my great watch in recent years (not that I have many that I had watched lol).

Watch it for you’re in for witty dialogues, constant hilarity between the characters, and explosive chemistry & well-acted performances from the leads & the rest of casts.

Do not watch it for you’re not prepared for the flaws I’ve listen down, and how this is not directed for ones that seek a realistic watch. Ultimately, Crash Landing on You is best watched if you’re not using your brain for it.

#cloy #crash landing on you #kdrama #hyun bin #son ye jin #thoughts

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madamquacklemore · 6 years ago

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Chapter 6-The devil awaits (part 1)

a/n This chapter takes place during s03 e05 -as ever spoiler alert! It should also be noted that this chapter is divided into two parts as it would be too long otherwise. As always thank you for your support and please let me now what you think! This chapter will be entirely in Tarian’s POV.

Are you ready to swear right here, right now Before the devil That you're on the square That you're on the level That you're ready to stand right here, right now Right here, right now

Ghost-Square Hammer The march to Aylesburgh would be a long one and due to the nature of their journey there would be little time for stopping. Tarian with much food for thought, took up position at the rear and kept to herself. This did not go unnoticed as Aetheflead herself broke formation (much to her guards annoyance) and chose to ride beside her.

"You do not seem quite yourself this morning ," the lady of Mercia said to her friend. "My apologies Lady, I am just tired and wanted to conserve energy." "Are you sure there is nothing wrong?" she asked. Oh no nothing at all just everything she believed about her family had been a lie, half her people want her dead and the other half wanted to marry her for her family's connections. On top that she had sworn loyalty to a man who still did not trust her fully and had conflicting feelings over his closest friend. "Nothing at all Lady." Tarian replied. "Are you avoiding someone? I only ask because I heard you were in the forest this morning with Uhtred" Tarian looked up. "Guards gossip more than fishermen's wives." "My lady I assure you there is nothing going on with Lord Uhtred." Tarian began she had seen the two of them in the barn and they seemed to care for each other great deal perhaps even more than that. It was none of her business Tarian knew that, nor could she fault Aethelflead after all she had told her about her abusive husband. The last thing Tarian needed was the Lady thinking there was something going on between herself and Uhtred. "Then are you avoiding another?" Tarian bit her lip and avoided the lady's gaze. Her interrogator was used to getting her own way. "Hmmm. I shall take that as a yes. Well it can't be the Dane, Sihtric, as he's happily married from what I gather and the monk Osferth is too young. So that leaves either Finan or one of my household guard." The very mention of his name brought flashbacks of their passionate yet brief embrace. She was good. Too good. "Lady I-" "It is Finan" Tarian looked up "Lady please I-" "Tarian I consider you and I to be friends. Correct me if I'm wrong but both of us seem to be rather lacking in female friends that are not children nor servants?" she smiled. After a moment of thought Tarian replied "We kissed lady." "I assumed something was happening between you both! I saw you the other evening in the hall-" "You were not the only one" "Uhtred disapproves? Not to worry I will have a place for you in my guard and-" Tarian started to laugh "No Lady Aetheflead Uhtred has no issue with it." "Then why-" "There is much stake right now and I guess I'm not sure where either of our feelings lie." "Then perhaps you may get some clarity at this very moment?" Aetheflead suggested as both women looked up and saw signal for rest. The lady of Mercia excused herself with one of her ladies and left Tarian to stretch her legs. "Baby monk is missing your company this mornin'" an Irish voice came from behind. "Is that so?" she smiled as she turned round to face him. "Yeah he's missin' your laughter somethin' fierce." Finan closed the space between them he was so close now that Tarian could smell the lemon grass wash he had used this morning. "'N I'll tell ya somethin' he ain't the only one." he whispered in her ear. Tarian shivered ,the cold she told herself, swallowing hard she retorted. "Really Sihtric too? My my I didn't realise I was so popular." His hearty laugh sent warmth flooding through her, but then his face sobered and he looked her in the eye. "You aren't avoidin' me after last nigh' are ya? I know we..er got a bit carried away but I jus' want ya to know if ya don't want it to go no further or if ya-" "Finan" she cut across him he had looked away at the sound of his name, she reached out and brought him back to face her "I just have a lot on my mind right now. A lot of thoughts that need sorting" "Ah I understand." he replied and began to walk away but she grabbed his hand this time and he turned to face her. "I said thoughts Irishman not regrets. I will remain at the rear to be on the safe side." she closed the gap between them reaching up to whisper in his ear this time, she added "I enjoyed last night and as I recall so did you." For the first time Tarian saw him nervous perhaps? He chuckled "Aye that was a bit of a give away wasn't it? I will leave you to your thoughts I just wanted to be sure is all." "And now you are." She watched him as he hesitated, unsure of what to do, in the end he decided it was probably best if he returned to the men. He looked back and grinned at her in front of the whole camp earning a curious and bemused looks from the rest of their party. Hours later their arrival was sounded at the Aylesburgh and the largest Saxon Tarian had ever seen came out greet them or so to speak. A dozen men at the entrance had their spears pointed in their direction and beside this great Saxon man were two smaller men, a thin man with a large nose and another man with a rather feminine face framed with golden curls. It had taken Tarian a moment to realise the latter was indeed a man and when she mentioned this to Osferth and Sihtric they did their best to conceal their laughter and explained that it was Aethelred of Mercia the ill-minded husband of Aethelflead. Upon this revelation Tarian immediately got down from her horse and went to the lady's side, earning some strange looks from the other Mercian soldiers. If only I had turned up dressed for battle that would give them something to stare at she thought angrily. She ignored the audience she had garnered and listened to Aethelflead telling her husband of the treachery that had occured. They were ordered to surrender their weapons upon entry-all visible weapons that was. Finan, being Finan , protested of course but in the end they all handed their weapons over. Tarian handed over her newly aquired Mercian steel sword and two daggers the third was secrectly stowed in her undergarments. Regardless of whether they were in the company of Aethelflead's father or not she would take no chances. After entering the stronghold, Finan jokingly offered to kill the lady's husband which naturally she declined. However Tarian had previously offered to shadow walk and slit the man's throat, promising the lady she would make it look like the Danes had done it but she had declined her offer too. The large Saxon man named Steapa had ordered that only Aethelflead and her lady may enter. Tarian and her dear friend exchanged bemused looks and the noble woman insisted she would stay with the outlaws of Wessex. Finan, Tarian had been warned of , enjoyed goading Steapa further. The banter lightened the atmosphere and provided them with a decent meal. "He threatened to step on you?" Tarian exclaimed as they ate the food that had been provided for them. Sihtric and Osferth nodded Finan rolled his eyes "He certainly is a rather large Saxon." Tarian replied as they all turned to look at Steapa who was guarding the hall. "I could take him on he migh' be bigger bu' I reckon he's slower." "They call you Finan the agile I believe?" Aetheflead said subtly nudging Tarian under the table. "He dances around his enemies and smiles like the devil these Christians are so fearful of." Sihtric explained. "Aye that I do son that I do. Like I said I could take him on." "Shall we tell him you wish to make the square?" Sihtric teased. Before Finan could respond a tall skinny Saxon came up to them as an approximation to a Witan was to be called and their presence required. "A what?" Tarian asked. "A Witan is like a war council but I do not no what an approximation to one is." Sihtric explained "Basically the same ting but not" "Helpful Finan." It had turned out that the approximation to a Witan was a council where the king was not present. This would explain why Uhtred and Aetheflead looked so concerned. If Uhtred's plan was to get an army and take down Haesten to recover his seer how could he do that without the king present? Tarian followed them this time choosing to stay with Finan Osferth and Sihtric, this was a matter she had no experience in nor knew how to proceed with. It was a small hall the cross hanging in the center almost a warning against non believers. The dimly room was heavily guarded and shrouded in the Mercian colours altogether not a welcoming sight. The pompous pudding of a man sat on the would-be throne of the room and attempted to make a mockery of Aetheflead as she begun to explain. Tarian wanting nothing more than to reach behind and fire her dagger straight at his treacherous heart, was stopped by Finan as it was as if he could read her very thoughts when he reached behind and gripped one of her clenched fists behind her back. Neither of them looked at each other instead focusing on the meeting before them. It was at that moment king Alfred entered the room weak, but proud, Tarian found herself very nearly in bitter admiration of the infamous ruler of Wessex. After demanding Uhtred to tell him what he wanted and why they were dismissed. It did not look good even if the young heir apparent Edward seemed to be on their side. This time there was no laughter no reminiscing as they pondered on what was to happen next. Tarian noticed two holy men and the young prince headed there way alerted Uhtred and the others and left to make room joining Sihtric at the other table who was cleaning his warrior's bands. Tarian and Sihtric exchanged looks as Osferth joined their table. She reached out to him and he gratefully accepted her hand. Finan had told her he was the bastard child of the king and so it could not have been easy for him to sit there among the half siblings who would never accept him nor the father who would have him. After much seemingly dull discussion Uhtred stood up with a smile on his face and nodded. Finan joined him and winked at her. They retrieved their horses and weapons as it would seem they had gotten what they came for and made there way to Beamfleot. "The lady does not come with us?" "It would be too dangerous." Uhtred explained. "I do not like her here alone with that treacherous turd." Tarian gritted her teeth. Lady Aethelflead was to stay in the clutches of her awful husband-alone. The group plus Aetheflead's guard marched into the late afternoon and set up camp at reasonable march away from the fortress with any luck they would return victors. Uhtred had tasked Finan and Tarian with the disposal of scouts sending only one back with the notice of their arrival. No one joked much that night nor did they stay up late drinkig ale. Tomorrow was a battle they needed to have all their strength for and if anyone doubted Edward's ability to get five hundred men they never said it.

She woke early and with a seeing glass she painted her face and braided her hair. If today were to be the day she joined her mother Tarian made sure the Gods knew exactly who she was. "Why do your people paint their faces?" Osferth asked seemingly alarmed as they made their way on foot to the fortress. He was not the only one who seemed intimated as several of the men had moved blaintly out of her way and avoided eye contact blessing themselves some wouldn't even speak to her. "To scare the livin' Jaesus outta their enemies and allies by tha looks of tings lil monk" Finan joked the men around them laughed at the Irishmans joke for it had indeed had that very effect "Yes and no" Tarian began "Green paint is used for camoflage when we are watching our enemies blue is for battle and white is for death a funeral. Red for weddings. The marks on my body tell of my family and who I am. Should I perish today the Gods will know who I am and that I died a warrior." Everyone went quiet perhaps she said too much? The young monk had asked after all and tact was not Tarian's strong suit. "Well I hate ta break it to ya Celt bu' 'tis a waste of paint. Today is not your day to meet your Gods." Finan replied so only her ears could hear. Looking up she met those beautiful dark eyes. She had been so consumed in her own thoughts of late with everything Arthfael had told her with fear for Aethelflead's safety that she hadn't seen or spoken to Finan much and now here could be the last time they fight alongside each other. Oh how she longed to be alone with him. Some place quiet some place private.

Uhtred ordered the halt as the fortress came into view. A short fat man came into view along with another stocky man with braided hair and a beautiful woman with long blonde hair markings on her face it could only be the seer. The short fat man was Haesten he and Uhtred traded insults both sides laughing and argued over the witch who seemed utterly bored with the conversation. The open air seemed thick and hard to breathe as she stared at every one of them. Despite her beauty there was no denying she was the very embodiement of evil itself. Tarian glared right back at her probably not the smartest thing to do but she would not show this witch of the North any fear. "You bring another woman-a Celt- with you?" Haesten called out drawing Tarian's attention to him and she made her way to the front at Finan's side. The dark haired Dane whispered something into his ear. "Dagfinn tells me she is the daughter of a Jarl and says he will claim both her and the reward he offers." the Dane sneered "You would loose your cock before you touch me Dane scum!" Tarian roared in her native tongue and spat on the ground. "Good luck with that" Uhtred jeered "I do not think she likes your man very much. Enough games Haesten! I am tired of this! Fight me. Bring your guard nothing more and we will make the square. I will wait for you in the clearing there." Uhtred stared long and hard at their retreating figures the blonde witch held his gaze as she sauntered off after her captor.

They left for the clearing and hours passed as they shivered in the cold. Uhtred ordered them to get up the plan had failed. "Lord! Lord!" Osferth called out. They all spun round and found that hell itself had been unleashed for there rode Haesten and what looked like hundreds of men-against 50 of them. Tarian prayed to the gods Edward would make good on his promise otherwise this would be slaughter. If they were in a thick forest they still could not win. Uhtred gave the order for two lines and automatically Tarian found herself shield and sword at Finan's side. The Danes circled and Uhtred changed their position to match that circle. The ugly Dane announced he only wanted Uhtred and the rest of them would live. But they were going nowhere. Where was Edward's promised men? After Finan promised Haesten he'd shove his sword up his hairy arse the madness began.

The strength of their shields did little against the onslaught of hundreds of Danes. Tarian had no more time to think as she dodged blocked and sliced her way through the foes that approached her. A sharp sudden pain grazed her left side but she had no time to look for she narrowly missed the swipe of a Danish axe and slipped on the muddy surface as her head collided with something hard on the ground. Blinking hard she tried to make sense of what was happening and tried to get her body to move. She knew if she fell to the ground she was a dead woman. A Dane stood before her sword ready for the plunge adrenaline flew through her veins once more and the need to survive took over as she reached for her hidden dagger and stabbed first his foot then his thigh. The man collapsed in agony and she slit his throat finishing the job she was not however fast enough for the man behind her. Luckily enough it had been an act of the Gods or a singular God in this case as Osferth came from behind and struck the Dane with his club.

"Tarian are you-ug!" His sentence was not finished as the man he had clubbed was still conscious and stabbed the young monk. "Osferth!" she roared and drove her dagger through the throat of the Osferth's attacker. With no time to assess the damage Tarian caught the young monk before he fell and put a shield around him to protect the wound. Standing firm she would not leave his side as life had been rejuvenated within her again slicing and stabbing the Danes that came near. Finan was not that far away she laughed bitterly as she heard his curses and warrior roars. Oh if only she could relive the last forty eight hours! Oh the things she would do differently. It was at the very moment when all hope had seemed lost that a charge sounded from the woods dozens of men on horseback came charging towards them a several hundred on foot all wearing the colours of Wessex. Edward had made good on his promise. They would live yet to see another day.

@geekandbooknerd @itzmegaaaaaaan @tesstrash @xthezodiacage @ariellostatci @sprinklesthrows17 @medievalfangirl @laketaj24

#the last kingdom #fanfiction #finan the agile #FinanxOC #of love and war #uhtred of bebbanburg #aethelflead #aethelred #wessex #mercia #beamfleot #alfred the great #edward #saxon #dane #celt #osferth #sihtric

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realitiesinpurple · 5 years ago

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Entry #1

It’s ridiculous how uneasy I feel writing here again. I have to convince myself this is just a medium, it has no power over me, and all the negative feelings I used to have won’t come back to the surface just because they’re attached to memories of Tumblr.

Because I used to have a Tumblr, I used to have several actually, and used to be here all the time, everyday. It consumed me.

I grew here, healed wounds, understood the world and met myself for the first time in what felt like centuries. I was still a child, and I grew up with the belief each and every one of us seem to have: I am special.

And the truth is that, yes, we are special. All of us. We’re unique and similar in so many ways. We’ve all been broken and judged. We are valid.

I think, in many ways, Tumblr, or the community at least, made me feel like I belonged. Like I wasn’t as messed up as everyone had me believe. But I crossed a line here as well, which is why I left: I allowed myself to believe I couldn’t be held accountable for my misfortunes.

Because it’s so easy to blame that one friend who betrayed you, or the dad that abandoned you, or the boy who broke your heart. It was really comforting to come here and have others validate my victim-hood and tell me that it was okay to continue to self destruct instead of grow up. It was also really easy to ignore those who told me I did, indeed, need to grow up, because a stranger on the internet agreed with me, so I must be right. But if someone criticized me, I was being oppressed, and they didn’t understand because they had never walked a day in my shoes.

And to be completely fair, I needed that. I needed to hate the world to stop hating myself. Sometimes, I still do, because, again, it’s so easy. You see, seeing the bright side is hard. Getting up every day being grateful that you’re alive is hard. But it does get easier with practice.

Before Tumblr, I was under the belief that I was not worthy of love. That all the bad things in my life were my fault and that I sometimes did not even deserve to be alive. My little sister is the age I was when I used to have these thoughts, and the thought of someone so young feeling this way breaks my heart. I look back at my younger self and I want to promise her everything is going to be okay (spoiler alert: everything turns out fine, and she’s happy!). But I suppose, I wouldn’t be where I am today if I hadn’t been that person to begin with. That sad little girl in too much pain for her little body to handle.

Then Tumblr came along and I was... I was real. I don’t know how to explain it, but meeting all of you, reading your stories, watching your shows, laughing at your jokes... I felt alive. Better yet, I felt worthy of being alive. And it wasn’t instantaneous. It took me a while to get there, and look at myself in the mirror and realize I was beautiful. It took some convincing to realize it’s okay to like girls AND boys?? My mind was blown.

But you see, I still had a lot of hatred and a lot of pain and a lot of bitterness. And I had to forbid myself from hating myself if I wanted to survive. So instead I hated all the people who had contributed to my pain. And the people who had contributed to other people’s pain! I had so much hate to share with the world, I bullied complete strangers because they had somehow hurt my friend’s feelings, instead of letting my friend fight her own battles.

And when someone was depressed, like I was, instead of encouraging them to fight through it, to get better, I approved of their self destruction. Sleep deprivation and unhealthy habits were just coping mechanisms, right? It’s funny because we’re all depressed here! Haha!

Because admitting they needed help meant I needed to admit... I needed help.

It was so much better to romanticize the toxicity I shared with the world. Forgiveness and love were weakness. Punching your way through life was the right way to go.

And don’t get me wrong, I needed to punch as hard as I could. I had no agency in my life and I needed to feel something, and if it was anger and resentment, so be it. It was better than being numb or depressed.

But then I grew up. I know, shocking. Suddenly I was an adult. I still can’t believe it. I had to leave Tumblr when I realized not only was I surrounding myself with toxic people. I was a toxic person.

No longer was this a place to empower myself. It was a place to excuse my behavior. It was an open door to hate.

And to be completely honest with y’all, hate is exhausting! No wonder I was tired all the time!

And yes, I still have depression, I’m not neurotypical at all lol

But I’m better. I’m not 100% and I’m not earning gold medals for being the greatest human to ever live. But I apologize when I mess up and I try not to mess up. I’ve found “judgy” friends who call me out on my bullshit and I love them so much for taking care of me in such a sassy way instead of telling me the world needs to revolve around me.

I’ve realized love is not something to be disgusted at or to fear and it’s honestly not as scary as I thought it could be.

I realized I can be funny without hurting others in the process. And that sometimes it’s okay to be a little “offensive”, too. (Yes, little sister, you are correct in saying you shouldn’t have bleached your hair and I’m not gonna tiptoe around the subject trying not to hurt your feelings. If you don’t like it, find a way to fix it. And I agree, I don’t like it neither!)

I also learned that after having a really negative experience with one religion, later becoming a stubborn atheist, and slowly starting to become a little more spiritual, it’s really not that silly to believe in something you can’t see if it makes you happy and helps you get through your day.

I learned to tell the difference between needing a mental health day and being lazy. Yes, I still take mental health days! But I also work my ass off on days when I have the potential to have high energy. I force myself to do one dish and end up cleaning the whole house and feel so proud of myself! But I don’t belittle myself when I can’t get out of bed, because I know that if I really can’t get out of bed, I need to stay in bed and recover, so the next day I can get shit done.

Also I flirt now, which is weird/new. Sometimes just for fun, sometimes with a purpose. Sometimes I flirt with myself, which I highly recommend everyone do because it is incredibly empowering!

I pay my bills on time and I treat myself without feeling guilty. Though to be completely honest with you, I was blessed with a job that I love, that pays me more than enough and rewards my hard work and competitiveness, so I’m always making extra when I earn it. But I know when to stop taking those extra shifts to have a family day, or go out, or simply lie in bed and read. Yes, I don’t have it as hard as most of you. But if I look back at 3 years ago, I was begging for Paypal donations just to survive. So I have to say, it does get better.

I live in an apartment I could have never even dreamed of, and it’s still a little empty, but I get excited over the smallest things. Like getting a new dish rack! Or new purple towels!

And against all odds, I’m actually happy going back where it all started. I visit my family and I tell them that I love them, but I don’t let them hurt me anymore.

I say no when I need to. And encourage myself to say yes to trying new things.

I wear colors now, even if they don’t match, and I wear sneakers on high heel days. I follow a skincare routine, even though I was one of those girls who would judge and envy girls with skincare routines. And I’m trying to eat healthier.

I lost weight and I cook now. I sing at the top of my lungs to the great disappointment of my next door neighbor. And I dance in my underwear even though my other neighbors can see me from the building across the balcony (I still haven’t bought curtains). Seriously, no regrets.

So, Victoria, you may ask, now that you’re doing better, why are you back? Nostalgia? Regret? To rub your stupid happiness in our faces?

To be completely honest, I’m here because it’s where I have to be. It was part of my journey all along. And I owe it to my younger self.

Do y’all remember that famous post about that person saying that when everything was okay, they would bake a cherry pie? And then they posted a photo of the cherry pie?

This is my cherry pie, I guess. This is me telling myself and any of you who may feel the way I used to, that it gets better. And I know younger me used to get so tired of hearing it. “Believe in yourself! It gets better! You’ll get there!” And it sounded like the biggest bullshit in the whole world. I had never actually met anyone who got better, to be honest. All the people who were saying it gets better were people who were just as depressed or worse than I was. We were all just trying to convince each other to believe in something none of us believed in.

Well, you know what? I’m glad you guys told me it would get better. I’m glad you pushed and pushed until I believed it. Because it’s the friggin truth. I’m the living proof that it gets better. And the more you believe that you can somehow tell the universe that you are ready to get better, to be better, to feel better, and that the universe will listen, the more it listens. I kid you not.

And I’m not even done getting better. I’m just getting started...

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secretagentspydetectiveninja · 6 years ago

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Test failed.

aka Aish actually writes a Splatoon fic for once because my little brother suggested it (beware octo expansion spoilers!)

Here on AO3

Agent 8 sat in her car, waiting. When she had first arrived in Inkopolis she’d never seen one of these before in person. To think that within just a few short months, she had learnt to drive one! Full freedom was almost here. There was just one step left before she could hit the road for real and go anywhere she wanted.

Her driving test.

It was a clear, sunny afternoon, the heat shimmering off the road ahead of her like an inky mirage. Hopefully that wouldn’t cause visibility problems. Her phone buzzed in her hand with yet another message of good luck wishes – Cap’n Cuttlefish, Pearl, Marina, and even the elusive Agent 3 had been sending them to her throughout the day. All it did was make her more nervous. She shoved the phone in her pocket and wiped her hands on her skirt, taking deep breaths, then took hold of the steering wheel in front of her.

The passenger door opened. Agent 8 turned to take a look at her examiner, but there didn’t appear to be anyone there at all. She had been expecting an inkling, or perhaps even a jellyfish, not an empty space!

“Good to see you again, Agent 8. I will be your driving examiner for today.”

No…

That voice sent shivers down her back. Surely it couldn’t be…?

But it was. The tiny blue slug-like creature she had been dreading was crawling up onto the passenger seat.

“C.Q. Cumber,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he replied in that monotonous, callous voice of his.

Agent 8’s hands were already starting to shake on the wheel, so she gripped it tighter and took another breath to steady her nerves. Alright, so this little blue bundle of terror was her examiner. Fine. She had handled him for eighty metro stations, hadn’t she? She could do this!

But those metro stations… oh, that voice still haunted her.

You let the 8-ball fall – test failed.

You contacted enemy ink – test failed.

A balloon got away – test failed.

Followed by every ink-based creature’s most primal fear coming to life – being splatted helplessly. Yes, C.Q. Cumber never hesitated to blow Agent 8 sky-high whenever she couldn’t complete a test to his standards. Of course, he didn’t kill her, she always respawned nearby. That didn’t make her temporary deaths any less painful, or any less terrifying, though.

Not to mention, thinking about the Deepsea Metro in general was terrifying. It was down there that she had almost been blended into puree like thousands of unlucky Octolings before her, down there that she had to fight a sanitized Agent 3 against her will, down there that the darn telephone had tried to ruin her life. Up here on the surface, she just wanted to forget about it all and move on!

But she couldn’t. Not until she had passed this driving test, and C.Q. Cumber had returned to the abyss from where he came.

“Please begin to drive.” His voice lacked any emotion whatsoever. He had curled himself up around the seatbelt so that he could see over the dashboard.

Agent 8 pushed down on the accelerator and let the car inch forward. Agent 3 had teased her for wanting to drive in heels, but hey, these were the heels she had escaped the underground in. Driving in them didn’t turn out to be too much of a problem. And plus, they looked nice, didn’t they?

“Please drive to the end of the road and turn left.”

Agent 8 did as she was asked, ignoring how her heart raced at hearing that creepy voice again. It brought back memories of pushing 8-balls along narrow paths with Squiffers, of mowing down hordes of sanitized enemies with Splatlings, of taking down a giant octo biker samurai all on her own while that little blue cucumber just watched and judged as she failed over and over.

“Now I would like you to join the main road and drive towards the bridge.”

She cautiously wove her way into the traffic. Every one of her senses was on high alert. An inkling’s loud laughter down the street made her jump in her seat, sweating drops of translucent ink.

C.Q. Cumber directed her to Hammerhead Bridge, then out to the road over Urchin Underpass, where he instructed her to slalom drive through a line of cones he had arranged earlier, taking care not to hit any. Agent 8 slowed down more than she would have liked on this test – playing it safe would be better than taking risks here, even if driving this slowly might potentially cause C.Q. Cumber to fail her too.

After this he told her to drive to the parking area beneath Moray Towers, at which she had to park the car in one of the bays without scraping the sides against the walls. This was something Agent 8 had practiced plenty of times with Off the Hook blasting through the radio to give her strength, so it wasn’t much of a challenge, although the eerie silence (occasionally broken by C.Q. Cumber’s quiet background squelching) put her off quite a bit.

By the time C.Q. Cumber said, “Thank you, please return to the test centre for your results,” the sun was setting and leaving dangerous spots in Agent 8’s eyes. She wiped the sweat off her forehead, brushed her hair out of her face, and began driving back towards the area they had started from.

How had she done? This examiner of hers was too stoic to let her know from his voice or attitude, so she had to judge for herself until he told her. Well, she hadn’t made any big mistakes. In fact, her hyper-anxious state meant that for once she hadn’t made any minor mistakes either. Somehow, her driving today had been even more perfect than it had ever been! (Gee, why couldn’t that happen when she was driving Agent 3 places…?)

The final stretch was filled with more uncomfortable silence, and thoughts crowded her mind, providing a welcome distraction from her nerves.

Maybe C.Q. Cumber wasn’t that bad. He was just doing his job, right? Sure, Agent 8 being constantly splatted when putting one tentacle out of line had sort of conditioned her to be oversensitive to failure, freaking out over the tiniest things she could have done wrong, striving for perfection always. Agent 3 was always telling her to chill out. But it wasn’t C.Q. Cumber’s fault, it was that telephone’s fault for keeping her down there in the first place!

And plus, the little cucumber was kind of adorable in a weird way. He was small, squidgy, his voice high-pitched, and he always made sure to tell her to take care of herself. It seemed he did care about her, even if he was bad at showing it.

Could that make up for everything? Maybe it could. And the thought of having passed her driving test, with flying colours too, was putting her Agent 8 in a charitable mood. Maybe she really could forgive C.Q. Cumber for all those times he had inksploded her for minor infractions. It would be worth it.

The test centre was within sight. Agent 8 let out a sigh of relief, all nerves flooding out of her. She had done it – she had really done it! A straight stretch of road was all that was left between her and total freedom.

Then her eyes drifted down to the speedometer.

No – she was one inkometre above the limit!

She hastily put her foot on the brake pedal to get back under control. Phew. Her eyes slid to the side, wondering if C.Q. Cumber had seen that. Please say he hadn’t, please say just one tiny inkometre wouldn’t matter to him, please say this still meant she passed–

“You drove above the speed limit.”

Uh-oh. She knew that tone of voice very well indeed. It instilled an involuntary reaction in her, one of utter fear. The fate that awaited her was inevitable. She began slowing the car to a stop, the test centre so close yet so frustratingly far, out of reach.

“Test failed.”

There it was.

She closed her eyes as the car rolled to a standstill. The sound of an ink bag inflating filled her ears, so familiar and yet so completely terrifying. She knew what came next.

SPLAT.

Respawning back in the test centre, she rubbed incoming tears out of her eyes. She had failed – what would everyone think? They had all been so supportive of her! To think that she could save Inkopolis from certain doom, and yet not pass a simple driving test?

The door slammed open. Her eyes dropped down to see C.Q. Cumber crawling in. She turned away again – now was really not a good time. All her forgiveness from earlier had gone, leaving her bitter and full of self-pity. Did one lousy inkometre really mean the difference between passing and failing? Her driving instructor had told her that a tiny bit of speeding didn’t matter!

“Ahem. Agent 8.”

She still refused to look at him.

“I have good news. You have passed your driving test.”

That got her attention. He hopes shot up, but filled with confusion too – what was he talking about? He’d already told her she had failed!

“I was merely joking about you having failed. Driving up to three 3im above the speed limit is acceptable in the form of a minor penalty, and does not result in automatic failure. I was simply amusing myself. A reminder of the old times, down in the Deepsea Metro.”

Amusing himself? She hadn’t even expected him to have a sense of humour. She glared at him, wondering if he could sense the thoughts running through her brain.

“My apologies, I see now that this test meant a lot to you. Perhaps it was inappropriate of me to trick you like that.”

Yeah, it was.

“Your driving licence has been left in your car. Congratulations on passing.”

He didn’t sound enthusiastic at all. Did he care? Did it matter if he cared? He couldn’t just make fun of her insecurities like that and get away with it. No longer down in the metro now, Agent 8 had allowed herself to have more spunk, to grow a personality, to stand up for herself and not blindly follow the orders of others. That was just asking to be blended.

She slowly walked over to C.Q. Cumber, surreptitiously pulling a Luna Blaster out from the holder on the back of her ink tank.

“Test failed,” she muttered. Then she splatted him in one shot.

Sweet, sweet revenge.

#splatoon #octo expansion spoilers #agent 8 #nintendo #random stuff #aish writes #VEEMO!!

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brightbeautifulthings · 6 years ago

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Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice

"'Don't you see? I'm not the spirit of any age. I'm at odds with everything and always have been! I have never belonged anywhere with anyone at any time!' 'But Louis,' he said softly. 'This is the very spirit of your age. Don't you see that? Everyone else feels as you feel. Your fall from grace and faith has been the fall of a century.'"

Year Read: 2018

Rating: 3/5

Context: I vaguely remember trying to read this once when I was younger and giving up on it for the slow pace and dense descriptions. I've seen the movie many times, and despite my general dislike of Tom Cruise, I think it's a great adaptation (and possibly one of the best performances of his career). This Halloween-month, I resolved to get through it once and for all, since The Vampire Chronicles have long been some of my dad's favorite books. This year, he finally gave in and read the first Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter novel after years of listening to my mom and me rave about them, so it only seems fair that I read one of his favorites. (Spoiler alert: I'm still Team Anita.) Actual spoilers will be clearly marked. Trigger warnings: blood, death, and endless brooding from the world's most reluctant vampire.

About: After more than two centuries of living (such as it is) as a vampire, Louis has consented to tell the story of his long life. At first disbelieving and then enraptured, the boy recording it listens to the gruesome tale with shock and fear. The story chronicles Louis's brief human life in the 1700's in New Orleans to his descent into immortality at the hands of the violent and erratic vampire, Lestat. Their relationship far from easy, however, Lestat soon makes a third vampire, Claudia, forever trapping her in a child's body. The three live as an uneasy but happy family for decades, but Lestat's villainy and Claudia's rage at being forever helpless constantly threaten their peace. Before long, Louis and Claudia flee to Europe in search of other vampires, but their quest may lead them into more danger than they've ever faced.

Thoughts: I empathize with my younger self, since this is not an easy novel to get through. Even before I consciously acknowledged things like "pace", I could tell that it moved at the speed of a glacier. It wallows in Louis's life before vampirism and those early days with Lestat for entirely too long, and Louis isn't the most exciting of narrators. He spends most of his time staring at things with his cool vampire eyes and hating himself for being a killer. In hindsight, maybe this is what the world of vampire fiction needed to spur it on its way to Twilight, TrueBlood, and The Vampire Diaries. Interview is the mother of all of them, and it's perhaps the first time we're given the opportunity to understand them, to see the story from their perspective. However, there's no mistaking the fact that Rice's vampires are still monsters who kill innocents every night. A vampire narrator who regrets the blood he spills might be the necessary middle-ground between remorseless monster Dracula and vampire love interest Stefan Salvatore. The story doesn't really pick up until Claudia joins them, and her love for Louis is matched only by her hatred of Lestat. Unlike the directionless Louis, Claudia has agency, and her ruthless efforts to achieve her goals (kill Lestat, find other vampires) prompt the story forward.

I like the characters more in theory than on the page. It's difficult to see how Lestat turns out to be the main character for much of the series, since he's painted mostly as a villain in this story. He's a trashcan fire with a gleeful disregard for human life, but he's not without depth or regret when it comes to his family. Claudia's situation is fascinating as she struggles to come to terms with the fact that she'll never age, and her bitterness makes her even colder and more ruthless than Lestat. Louis is more difficult. His whining, brooding, and pointless spirals of introspection (that far too frequently disrupt the narrative for no apparent reason) are difficult to get past. (Sorry, Lestat momentarily took over my keyboard?) His devotion to Claudia is probably the most interesting thing about him. I'm about 90% sure that none of the vampires in this book are sexual, otherwise it would lead to some seriously questionable moments between Louis and Claudia, as well as a young human boy later on. He keeps using the word "lover" to refer to her, and I'm like... not literally, right? ...Right? On the other hand, two gay vampire dads raising their vampire daughter is probably the cutest image in the book. I can see why LGBTQ fans latched onto the series, but Lestat and Louis's relationship is one aspect I wish we'd seen more developed. If it's there, it's almost all subtext.

While the title states plainly that there's an interview, I was expecting it as a framing story, perhaps in the first and last chapters where we see Louis with the unnamed listener. To my dismay, the entirety of the novel is the interview, with frequent interruptions from the boy and side commentary by Louis. Literally all the narrative is dialogue of him speaking. These asides add nothing to the story and contribute to its already slow pace. The world-building could also use some work, but that's in part due to Lestat's insistence on secrecy. We know very little about vampires--what can kill them, what powers they might have--because Lestat won't tell Louis or Claudia anything. Whatever we learn about them, we learn by seeing it happen rather than having it explained, and it's frustrating. I have so much sympathy for Claudia when she dumps that diva bitch into a swamp.

The last fifth of the novel gets extremely tense, and if I hadn't already seen the movie, I think I would have been more furious about the outcome. Like the boy recording the story, I can't help feeling that it doesn't/can't end like that. Louis is finally moved to action for the first time in the novel, but I have misgivings about his motivation for that. On a character level, it's utterly justified and even kind of satisfying, but I'll go into that more after the spoilers. While the ending provides closure on Louis's story, it's somewhat open-ended for the rest of the cast. I didn't totally enjoy this book (and, indeed, in the middle I despaired of getting through it), but I'm planning to read at least one or two more in the series before I make up my mind whether to finish it.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS. TURN BACK BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.

I suspect I would have been bawling at Claudia's death if I hadn't been expecting it. Like everything else, it's more immediate and suspenseful in the film than the novel, since Louis isn't actually there for it. I dislike the fact that Louis's character development is motivated by the death of the only female character in the novel though. Women have been dying in fiction to motivate men's personal growth for centuries, and I was expecting better for Claudia, who's such a powerhouse otherwise. The idea that Armand thought Louis could eventually forgive him for her death is laughable; he clearly doesn't know his vampire companion very well or seriously underestimated the bond they had. I’m looking forward to Armand having his own book about as much as I’m looking forward to re-reading the dreaded Memnoch the Devil, assuming I get that far.

#book review #interview with the vampire #anne rice #the vampire chronicles #vampire fiction #horror fiction #3/5 #rating: 3/5 #2018

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qqueenofhades · 7 years ago

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things fall apart (the center cannot hold)

This will absolutely be jossed in a month when s2 comes out, but I had a Need. Based on spoilers/press releases/promos/etc. Apparently my muse lives. Welp.

Wyatt Logan has always been well aware that war is hell.

He’s a soldier, after all. He’s been in Iraq and Afghanistan, he’s seen some shit that stays with you. He’s served with the grunts wearing camo, battling through the desert dust with jeepfuls of Taliban on their tail, and he’s tracked down high-value targets wearing a five-thousand-dollar suit in Dubai. When you’re Delta Force, the job description is flexible, and while Wyatt has moments where it comes back – the Alamo mission, for example – he likes to think he’s, on the whole, mostly good at handling it and remaining mentally competent and unaffected. He’s not, no one ever really is, but everyone who makes a career in the service has to believe that lie. They’ll come home and find that it is one too damn soon.

Nothing, however, has compared to the shrieking artillery shells, the tangles of barbed wire, the distant yellow haze of mustard gas, the flaming bi-wing planes overhead, the endless mud, the kids who can’t be more than seventeen dying with their guts spilled out and sobbing for their mothers, and the hellhole trenches of the French front of World War I, 1918. Or maybe because it’s more than that, this time. It’s not just the Great War, it’s – impossibly – a Great War. Because someone already tried to kill Wyatt and Rufus back at Mason Industries, when the damn place blew up, and Lucy still hadn’t come back from her visit to her mom. It’s been a fly-by-the-seat-of-the-pants sort of thing. They haven’t put it all together yet, can’t figure out why Lucy’s on the Mothership, who even has the Mothership, and why –

This, of course, isn’t the important thing. They just need to catch up to her first, and they’ve put all their energies into doing exactly that. Only to find, of course, that Lucy has already rescued herself, tried to recruit Marie Curie to help, and wants to save a wounded soldier named Nicholas Keynes. This is still a bit too much for Wyatt and Rufus to process, given that less than twenty-four hours ago, they thought their job was done. Rittenhouse’s head honchos (and Flynn) have all been arrested. What the fuck are they doing back here now?

“It’s…” Lucy’s eyes look odd, as they sit in a grimy canvas tent by the light of a camp lantern, and listen to the distant thuds and booms. “It’s complicated.”

Wyatt and Rufus look at each other. They have picked that up for themselves, funnily enough, but they can tell that something is terribly wrong, and not just the obvious. Finally Wyatt says, “Your mom – ?”

The flare of Lucy’s nostrils alerts him that she really doesn’t want to talk about this subject. Her fingers twist in her brown serge skirt. At last she says, “She’s here. She and Emma Whitmore took me here. My mom – my mother is – is Rittenhouse. She’s always known. About all this. She arranged to have Emma steal the Mothership, and…”

Wyatt starts to say something, then stops. There is not much you can answer to that, and any words of comfort sound trite and stupid in his mouth. He reaches out, gripping her hand, and Lucy squeezes it quickly, then lets go. “There’s more,” she goes on, coolly as a battlefield surgeon. “Nicholas Keynes, who I was trying to save – that’s exactly what they wanted me to do. It turns out he’s my great-grandfather. They want to bring him to the present to be Rittenhouse’s new leader.”

“What?” It’s Rufus’s turn to try, and fail, to get his head around this. “What, more of your relatives? Have the whole lot of them been Rittenhouse this entire time?”

Wyatt shoots him a warning look, but it’s clear he has the same question. “Wh – your great-grandfather? How can they take someone who lives in 1918 to the present?”

“They can do anything they want, can’t they?” Lucy bursts out. She jerks to her feet, whirling on them, though it’s clear that Wyatt and Rufus aren’t the one she’s really angry at. “They have the Mothership! Everything we thought we did, we – ”

She stops, closing her eyes, breathing hard. Another boom goes off in the distance.

“But your – your great-grandfather,” Rufus says uncertainly. “He’s supposed to get married and have a kid, right? Has that already happened? Or do they take him, and then you don’t –”

Since they have already skated perilously close to getting another of Lucy’s grandparents killed, thus possibly erasing her, this is obviously a question of considerable interest. Finally Lucy says tightly, “I don’t know. I don’t know which of my biological parents he’s the ancestor of. I don’t know if he died here originally. I don’t know.”

This is the worst thing for a historian, for someone who has made her living, and saved them so often, by being familiar with all the secrets of the past, and realizing that her own is such a huge and terrible mystery. Obviously, the Time Team is going to have to keep fighting, but that’s the only certainty they have, and the false hope of thinking everything was over is making this bitter pill still harder to swallow. They exchange looks. More explosions.

“Fine,” Wyatt says grimly. “Let’s kick some ass.”

This is indeed what they try to do. It’s a noble idea.

It turns out to be totally disastrous.

Fighting Flynn was one thing. The Time Team got used to him quickly, could just figure he would adopt the straightforward expedient of going out and shooting whoever looked important, punching a few passersby, blowing something up, or otherwise favoring the scorched-earth approach. But that’s the thing about Flynn. He was a one-man wrecking crew, and a very efficient one at that, but he was one man. His assistants mostly existed to help him out, not to take any action on their own, and Flynn could usually be counted to burn through them anyway. As much as the team has had to fight to keep Flynn’s grubby paws off the good china, they’ve had an advantage: there have been three of them, working together. They outnumber him. Of course, albeit with effort, it’s been possible to thwart him.

That advantage is totally gone now. Rittenhouse has at least half a dozen trained operatives spread out to every side, led by Carol Preston and Emma Whitmore, and all of them are working actively according to whatever super-secret How To Take Over The World In 12 Easy Steps evil memo they’ve been given. Wyatt, Lucy, and Rufus are utterly overmatched. They can’t run one place and beat out the embers only for them to flare up behind their back, can’t possibly attach themselves to everyone, and since Carol has ordered them to be on the lookout for her daughter, that puts Lucy at risk every time she steps outside. They’ve lost any hope of stopping whatever Rittenhouse proposed to do with Nicholas Keynes, and they’ve got no clue what else is on the agenda either. They don’t even know their enemy. Flynn was reliably recognizable, they could just ask for the tall dark Eastern European man, and someone was bound to have had a bad experience. All these agents are faceless, unknowable.

“You know,” Wyatt says grimly, as they’re trudging back to the Lifeboat, filthy and humiliated and footsore. “I swear, I’m actually missing him.”

He stops short, glancing at Lucy, as he also knows that this is a sore subject for her. That she shouted at Denise not to arrest Flynn as the SWAT team closed in, that Flynn believes she has personally and savagely betrayed him, and he’s been carted off and thrown in some black site to molder indefinitely. In Wyatt’s opinion, some moldering will be good for Flynn, and it’s not like he didn’t deserve it. Wyatt feels protectively that Lucy has been much more understanding to Flynn than could ever be expected, though he has to admit that the bastard had a tiny flicker of decency in 1954. But what good does that do them now, when –

Something occurs to Wyatt. Just a moment, just in passing.

No. No. That is a horrible idea.

Absolutely not.

(It won’t quite go away.)

Lucy has been watching him, and Wyatt has an uncomfortable feeling that she knows exactly what he was just thinking. Their eyes meet, then turn away, as they climb into the Lifeboat smelling like swamp ass, and Rufus starts firing up the controls to jump them home. Great. Back to the weekly Vomit Comet Power Hour. Just what Wyatt wanted.

Once they’ve landed back in 2018, try as Wyatt might, he can’t shake the idea. He and Rufus are very leery of staying around in the warehouse for long, given as it was exploding the last time they were here, and they shuck their 1918 clothes and leave as quickly as they can. Nobody feels safe on the streets either, or apart, and as they’re driving back to Rufus’ apartment, it being the only place that they can lie low for a while, Wyatt can’t hold back any more. “I – guys, I’ve been thinking. That was a total disaster. We keep up like that, we’re screwed. We need more help.”

“What?” Rufus looks at him warily. “Jiya? The last jump in the Lifeboat did something weird to her brain, we can’t risk that again. And given as someone tried to blow us up the last time we were in Mason Industries, I don’t think we’ve got a ton of options for – ”

“I wasn’t thinking about someone from Mason Industries.” Wyatt reminds himself that this is his last chance to come to his senses. “I was… thinking about Flynn.”

Rufus almost drives into the semi-truck in front of them, slams on the brakes just in time, is honked at by the person behind him, and cuts hard into the right lane with a screech of tires. “Are you out of your mind? Flynn?”

Lucy has gone slightly pale, but by the look on her face, Wyatt can tell this was in fact what she was thinking earlier. “I know it sounds insane,” he starts, “but – ”

“Yes,” Rufus says. “Yes, it sounds insane. It sounds idiotically insane. Flynn?”

“We know what he did to you.” Lucy’s expression is troubled and sympathetic as she leans forward from the back seat. “Trust me. But this whole time… he was right, wasn’t he? It was Rittenhouse that was doing all this. He knew more about them than we ever will, and he…” She hesitates. “Well, he got results.”

“Yeah,” Rufus says. “Like shooting Abraham Lincoln. Or were we talking about nearly blowing up your grandfather? Or – I don’t know, pick literally anything he’s done?”

“He might agree to work with us,” Wyatt says. “It’s got to be better than rotting in jail.”

“So he can kill us and go back to his own crusade?” Rufus was never going to like this, alas, and Wyatt has to admit, he might be the only thing saving their butts from a renewed approach, but still. “He’d shoot us in the back of the head and jack the Lifeboat the instant he got a chance. Don’t tell me he wouldn’t.”

“I…” Lucy sighs deeply. The insanity of approaching a man who thinks they betrayed him, who has been their enemy almost this entire time, is plainly obvious, and like Wyatt, she has no real good counter for Rufus’s objections. “I’m not sure. He still hates Rittenhouse. I can’t believe he really wants to sit there and do nothing, if he had a choice otherwise. And I reached him once. Changed his mind. I think I could do it again.”

Rufus shoots her an unhappy look. If it’s a matter of blaspheming Flynn, he will do that gladly, but it’s less easy to defame or distrust her. “Lucy,” he says. “I know you had that whole journal thing with him, and… all right, he used to hate you maybe two percent less than he hated us, but now that he thinks you set up the fuzz to nab him – ”

“I know,” Lucy says heavily. “But what’s our alternative?”

Everyone thinks about that. It’s an uncomfortable silence.

Wyatt says, “Anyone know where Denise lives?”

“No,” Agent Christopher says. “I absolutely cannot agree to that.”

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but we just got wiped out.” Wyatt looks at her levelly. “We’re lucky we didn’t come back here and find – I don’t know what, but it was bad. We are completely overmatched on the ground. The last time we tried to just rope in another soldier, it was Bam-Bam, and we…” He hesitates. Dave Baumgardner was his friend, after all. “Well, we saw how long that lasted. We don’t have time to train and brief someone else.”

“You didn’t have any training,” Denise points out. “We told you time travel was real, you got in the Lifeboat, and you went.”

“Yeah,” Lucy says, “and we learned on the job, but don’t you think the stakes are too high for that now? Last time was the beginner level. This is beyond that.”

“We can’t trust Garcia Flynn,” Denise says flatly. “If we let him out, and he goes rogue again – if he turns against you three – ”

“I know.” Lucy’s voice is quiet, but unyielding. “I know all the reasons, believe me. We’ve gone through them. But I told you not to arrest him in the first place. You owe me this.”

Denise takes that in. It’s hard to tell what she feels about being essentially rebuked by a subordinate to her face, but she says nothing. Then she turns to Rufus, having – accurately – sensed that he’ll have the most objections. “What do you think about this?”

“I hate it,” Rufus says, after a brief pause. His voice trembles. “I’m terrified of Flynn, I’m not going to pretend I’m not. But I think I’m more terrified of Rittenhouse, about everything they’ve done to me, that they could still do to everyone. And I trust Lucy and Wyatt. If for some crazy reason they think this the best choice, I support them.”

Denise has not expected that, and Lucy and Wyatt move instinctively to either side of Rufus, to make it clear they’re standing together. Of course, if Rufus’s decision was absolute to never see Flynn again, they would have respected it, but now that they’ve committed to, they aren’t turning back. There is a very uncomfortable silence as the Time Team and Denise stare at each other. Nobody seems inclined to be the first to back down.

“Just so you know,” Wyatt says. “If you don’t help us get him out, we’re going to have to take matters into our own hands. And I’m pretty sure nobody wants that.”

Denise glances away. “Fine. We’re going to take a ride.”

Technically, civilians aren’t supposed to know where the black site is, and of all of them, Wyatt is the only one who might have actual security clearance, but it’s nighttime, they’re not going to sit there with their eyes closed the whole time, and they’re a little past such things anyway. It’s a drive of thirty or forty minutes out of the city, until they pull up to a chainlink, barbed-wire fence, Denise rolls down the driver’s window and flashes a badge at the guard in the booth, and they roll through with a crunch of gravel. They step out of the car, follow her to another locked gate, and head in.

Inside, it’s cold steel and harsh fluorescent lights, doors marked NO ACCESS that probably contain the NSA agent spying on your search history, and other such charming aesthetics. Denise has phoned ahead, and leads them down the corridor to one of the interrogation rooms. The glass is one-way, so they can see who’s sitting inside before he can see them. He’s dressed in a grey inmate jumpsuit, a chain around his waist, handcuffed to the bar on the table, and if looks could kill, the entire Bay Area would be dead. Lucy has a too-late qualm. This is, in fact, a terrible idea. Her stomach has turned over at seeing him again, as she finds herself anxiously searching his face to see if he’s been beaten up. Not that it matters.

They step into the booth with Denise, and she presses a button. “Good evening, Flynn.”

His face twists. Even if he’s been informed that someone wants to talk to him, he has no reason to expect anything besides another round of questions. Much as he clearly wants to fire back, he just stares back at them. It’s insolent, but it’s also oddly heartbreaking. He doesn’t see any point in fighting. He had what he wanted, in his hands, and then it was gone. He’ll torment his captors to the end, because of course, but he has no real reason aside from habit. The glare of the lights bleach him of color. He looks half like a skull.

“Well?” he growls at last. “Get on with it. Or is this some new tactic to – ”

“Rittenhouse has the Mothership.” Lucy wasn’t going to speak, but she can’t help it. “They stole it about a week ago.”

At the sound of her voice – after all, he still can’t see them, he didn’t realize it was anyone apart from Denise – Flynn goes completely motionless. Then he half makes to get up, is caught by the chain, and crashes back down into the hard metal chair. “Lucy,” he says, curling his mouth viciously around it. “Well, well. Just you, or the other two idiots as well?”

“We’re all here,” Wyatt says shortly. It might have been his idea to do this, but he clearly isn’t going to stand for lip. “And she isn’t lying. Rittenhouse has the Mothership.”

Flynn stares at them – or rather, the glass. It’s impossible to say what is going through his head. Then finally he barks, “How is that my problem?”

“It…” Lucy bites her lip, feeling her finite confidence dwindling. “It’s not, but we…we had thought you might…”

At that, it seems to occur to Flynn what they might be here to ask him. It’s harder to say if he’s more amused or angry about it. “Let me make sure I have this clear,” he says, in tones of scathing derision. “Are you actually asking me to help you?”

Nobody can quite be sure that’s what they are in fact here to do, when he puts it like that, so there’s a brief and marked silence. There’s nothing they can offer him. There’s no way he’ll believe that they’ll actually help him get his wife and daughter back, the last time going how it did, and he probably doesn’t give a shit if he’s in jail or out of it. Once there was his – whatever it was, connection, fascination, destiny – with Lucy, but that’s gone too. All they have is his hatred of Rittenhouse, and that doesn’t seem like much.

“I’m not helping you.” Flynn’s eyes smoke. “Now torture me, make me disappear, or whatever you’re going to do. Then maybe you can learn what it’s like to – ”

“Flynn,” Lucy starts helplessly. “Garcia, I – ”

He tilts his chin up and stares so directly at her that she can’t help but feel he can momentarily see through the glass. “Get. Out.”

Denise and Rufus give Lucy and Wyatt looks as if that’s it, they’ve tried, they can safely chalk this up as a loss. They take a step as if to go, but then Wyatt leans over and hits the button that reverses the opacity on the glass, allowing Flynn, for the first time, to see the four of them. “Hey,” Wyatt says roughly. “Hey, remember when you had me tied up in a chair during the Watergate mission and would not shut the hell up? Remember how you told me what happened to your family? Those bastards are still out there. They’re still out there, and they’re gonna do to a lot more families what they did to yours. You’re really telling me that doesn’t matter to you? Huh?”

Flynn’s eyes are slits. “Don’t talk about my family.”

“You can’t stop me, can you? You’re chained to a table. You can come out here and make me shut up, or you can sit on your ass and let them win. And you know what? I don’t think you’re going to do that.”

The silence is smothering. Flynn continues to stare at them evilly. He doesn’t bother asking what’s in it for him if he cooperates; he neither trusts nor cares about anything they would say. Likewise, he doesn’t promise them anything, as he clearly has no intention of keeping it. If this is their best hope, it feels like Rittenhouse has already won.

“Well?” Denise says, into the silence. “Do you want to stay here or not?”

“No.” A mirthless smile twists up Flynn’s mouth. “I want to punch Wyatt. Let me out.”

The first mission was a disaster. The second mission is more of one.

Once the black site’s security cameras are conveniently scrambled, a second car follows Denise and the Time Team back to Mason Industries, the Lifeboat’s modifications for four people are checked over, and everyone they meet has the same reaction (“FLYNN?!?!”) it isn’t long until they get a chance to see how bad, exactly, this is. Rufus won’t come anywhere near him, Lucy and Wyatt aren’t too sure themselves, and while they finally have to get into the Lifeboat together and jump to a 1950s stock-car race, this does not presage any kind of improvement. Rittenhouse apparently wants to destroy the American auto industry (they could have just asked General Motors) and the instant they land, Flynn books out on his own. Lucy, Wyatt and Rufus are left to team up as usual and try to sort things out without him. “I have an idea,” Rufus says darkly. “Let’s just leave him here.”

Lucy and Wyatt give him looks that remind him they can’t do that.

“Be honest,” Rufus goes on. “Does anyone actually feel any safer now that we have Flynn and Rittenhouse running around? Now we just have more baby-sitting to do that we couldn’t afford in the first place. Flynn isn’t going to save us if we get into trouble, or have our back, so why do we have any obligation to have his?”

“We don’t,” Wyatt says heavily. “But we got him out of jail and made him part of the team. And that means we don’t leave him behind.”

Rufus looks as if he still has plenty more to say to this, but sighs and gives up. They don’t see Flynn again until the end of the mission – in fact, when they get back to the Lifeboat, he’s leaning against it and waiting for them, scowling. “Took you long enough.”

“Great.” Rufus throws up his hands. “We’re all back together.”

“Where have you been, Flynn?” Every time Lucy asks him anything, he’s pretended to be deaf, and she doesn’t want to sound like a chiding schoolteacher, not that any variation of tone or manner would help her at all. “We were – ”

“I was out killing Rittenhouse agents,” Flynn snaps. “The thing we’re here to do, aren’t we?”

That catches them short. They exchange looks. Finally Wyatt says, “You were…?”

“You’re welcome.” Flynn stands up with a jerk that makes Rufus back away. “I killed three, by my count. I’m guessing you had no idea who they were, did you?”

Wyatt, Lucy, and Rufus look at each other. It seems hypocritical to smack Flynn on the wrist, when they got him out of jail precisely to be a blunt-force weapon, but still. Finally Lucy says cautiously, “If you could tell us, maybe we could – ”

“No.” Flynn sneers. “We are not a team, and we are never going to be one. This is how it is going to be. We’ll travel out and back together, that’s it. Whenever we get somewhere, you three go do your version of fixing the problem, and I’ll do mine. We can compare notes at who’s more efficient later. That clear?”

“So what?” Rufus snaps, surprising everyone. “You think we’ll just give you a ride wherever you want to go murder someone next, then come pick you up when you’re done? I’m the only one of us who can actually drive your butt home, so what are you going to do if I refuse? Get me shot again?”

Flynn eyes him as if he’s thinking about it, and Wyatt tenses, trying not to reach for his own gun too obviously. There are a few very unbearable moments. Then Flynn whirls on his heel. “Get in the time machine, Carlin.”

“Yeah,” Rufus mutters, with a very black look. “We’re screwed.”

And then, Salem.

There has been Hollywood, and Flynn once more disappearing to do things his way, and a few more Rittenhouse agents turning up dead on the beach, and other things have gotten a little complicated between Wyatt and Lucy, and it’s spooked both of them. Not that they have time to focus on it, especially given that they next end up in the middle of the frigging Salem Witch Trials. For the first time, Flynn can’t just thunder out and murder the nearest Rittenhouse agent, because Rittenhouse has been very careful about not making an appearance. They’ve just stayed out of sight, pulling strings, inflaming the existing public hysteria, and letting that do the work, and it doesn’t take the Salemites long to latch onto these four strange newcomers as Clearly Up To No Good. One of Cotton Mather’s goon squads grabs Lucy, and no matter how much she kicks and struggles, she soon finds herself shut up in a small room with a number of the other accused women.

The hangings have already started, and everyone is terse and worried, Lucy not least. None of the boys know where she is. If she tries to play the trick she used on H.H. Holmes, it will be indubitable proof of witchcraft. She will think herself out of this, obviously, but even she is running low on ideas. She’s just about to ask the women if one of them should feign a swoon, or sickness, if there is anything they can do at all that will not be taken as proof positive of their demonic ways, when she hears a muffled thump outside. Then after a moment, another.

The women look up anxiously, some of them grabbing each other’s hands, thinking that the entire mob of outraged citizens is storming in here to lynch them on the instant. Lucy bolts to her feet, ready to fight if need be, even if that is clearly not her forte. Then there is a third thud that is unmistakably a body hitting the deck, and the door flies open.

The women utter small screams, stop, and stare at the newcomer in confusion. He strides across the floor with creaks and thumps, leather duster swirling (of course he’s wearing a leather duster in 1692, because he is just that extra) and reaches Lucy, grabbing her roughly by the arm. “Let’s go.”

“I – ” Lucy stares at him. Through the door, she can see several Puritans knocked out for the count, and one more groaning, but clearly not able to get to his feet. It is clear that Flynn just punched his way through the lot of them. “I – are you – ”

“Go!” Flynn barks at the other women. “Before those bastards wake up. Now!”

The women stare at him, at each other, and at him again. Flynn must not look too far off from the Devil Himself, bursting in here on behalf of his detained servants, and if nothing else, nobody wants to be spotted with him. They scurry out in white flashes of collars and mob caps, and Flynn watches them go with grim vindication. He blows on his scraped knuckles, then tightens his grip on Lucy’s arm. “They hurt you?”

“I – no.” Lucy has no idea what’s going on. “No, I’m fine.”

Flynn’s eyes flicker over her briefly, as if he has to make sure, and then snorts, letting go of her. “Come on.”

Lucy picks up her skirts and follows him through the prone Puritans. She can’t think this will do anything for their prospects of not getting convicted, but that was always going to happen anyway. What’s more baffling is that Flynn, who has been reminding her at every opportunity that he could not give a shit about her or any of them, has just torn apart a roomful of men on her behalf. She supposes she’s lucky he didn’t shoot the lot. But for her –

It’s strange. She could be entirely and horribly mistaken. And yet, for the first time since the war began, Lucy Preston thinks there might be a chance to win.

#timeless nbc #timeless #timeless spoilers #timeless ff #come faster march 11

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