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thanksjro · 4 years ago

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

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

So.

This is a little different than what I usually do.

Clearly.

God, how did we even get here?

Oh, I remember.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

Haha, I doubt it.

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

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

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

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

For loving his child.

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

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

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

No. Not at all, actually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just a shame that I don’t care.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right???

RIGHT??????????

RIGH-

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

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

Anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As if women are property to be owned.

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

We’re 17.5 minutes into this film.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t be fucking serious.

ANYWAY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which made me groan aloud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right???

RIGHT??????????

RIGH-

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

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

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

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

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

Ed Sheeran does not survive this experience.

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

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

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

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

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

So they try it again.

This time it works, sort of.

At the very least, he’s left now.

Tail fell off, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Judy doesn’t count.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For about 20 seconds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ratchet’s fine, by the way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We still have another hour of this movie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nope, that doesn’t happen either.

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

Repeatedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being advocated for by Optimus Goddamn Prime.

We still have another 50 minutes of this movie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The resulting explosion throws all the humans around, Mikaela getting weird heaven lighting as she lies unconscious on the pavement. Sam gets it too, though, so I suppose I can’t complain too much about this particular shot. They touch hands. I really wish that I could take this moment of vulnerability as being anything other than an attempt to set up a romance between these two teens who have known each other for maybe half a week. This movie has so starved me of genuine human interaction I'm jumping at the smallest of scraps.

Bumblebee actually didn’t get out of that missile-strike unscathed, his legs having been blown off. All those Furbies died for nothing. Tragic. Sam asks Bumblebee if he’s alright, and immediately tells him to get up. Sam then remembers that Bumblebee’s legs are off, so he yells for Ratchet.

Over with Lennox and Epps, they’ve realized that the plane they saw wasn’t one of theirs. Which, you know, has already been established, but points for getting caught up, fellas. Sam is crying and still telling Bumblebee to get up. Bumblebee is dragging himself across the pavement and whimpering. It’s awful. Where the fuck is Ratchet? This is basically the only reason he’s in this film, and he’s nowhere to be found.

The actual Air Force calls on the radio, asking for their location. Brawl, who is a tank, starts firing on Lennox’s gang. Jazz and Ratchet race through the city streets. How they were separated from the rest of the team is anyone’s guess.

Sam takes a little sit on the pavement to be with Bumblebee, while Mikaela decides to problem-solve and heads for a nearby tow truck. Bumblebee hands Sam the Cube™ because, as the designated protagonist, it’s his job to handle it in the climax of the film.

Ironhide is shot at several times by Brawl, narrowly avoiding being hit each time. This, of course, means that the people he drives by in this shot are almost assuredly dead, since they’re right next to the explosions. He transforms and does a flip, as the film goes slow-mo on a shot of a woman in a low-cut dress watching him flip. She screams. Ironhide screams. I scream, though probably for a different reason.

Jazz jumps on Brawl, managing to kick off a couple pieces of kibble before Brawl grabs him and throws him into the side of a building. Ironhide, Optimus, and Ratchet descend on Brawl, and so does Lennox’s team, Brawl losing a hand and getting thrown into his own building as a result.

Mikaela breaks into the tow truck and starts to hotwire that shit. Wow, a relevant back story that culminates in her being able to save the day, thus completing her arc and staying on-theme for her character. Why isn’t Mikaela the protagonist again?

Oh, right, because ~girl~.

Megatron lands in a nearby alleyway, and Ratchet, knowing this dude is bad news, tells everyone to head for the hills. Jazz isn’t fast enough, however, and gets shot for his troubles.

Mikaela drives the truck over to Sam, who is still sitting there with the Cube™, and tells him to get his ass in gear.

Jazz gets taken to the top of a nearby building and is ripped in two by Megatron, who acts like a bird of prey the whole sequence. Down on the ground, Brawl is starting to get back up from his smackdown. Blackout appears on a nearby skyscraper. Things are looking grim for humanity.

Mikaela and Sam hook Bumblebee up to the tow line as Lennox approaches them. Sam has left the AllSpark out of his line of sight, like a fool. Despite seeing this, Lennox still gives him the flare to let the military know where to pick up the AllSpark. Doesn’t even acknowledge Mikaela. He tells Sam to head for the white building with statues on top of it and set the flare on top of the roof. Lennox can’t leave his men, because he’s the head of his operation. Why he can’t send literally anyone else who isn’t a 16 year-old boy isn’t made clear.

Sam really doesn’t want to do this, probably because he’s a child, but Lennox has recruited him to the military against his will, so he must. Lennox then attempts to make Mikaela leave for her own good, but she tells him to fuck off, because she’s gonna save Bumblebee. Clearly, this is a win for feminism.

Epps radios the choppers coming from the Air Force to let them know they’ll be picking up a package from a teenager, thus locking Sam into the job. Ironhide and Ratchet vow to protect Sam from the Decepticons on his way to the pickup point. Not one single person has pointed out how fucked up this is.

Sam starts to run off, when Mikaela stops him to let him know that she’s glad she got in the car with him roughly an hour ago. They don’t kiss goodbye, which, honestly? Good. This fucking movie hasn’t earned that. Sam for sure hasn’t earned that, even if he did clear her juvie record. No word on that having actually been done, by the way. Sam never got confirmation, and I feel like he’s not really the type to follow up on things.

Brawl fires off some shots and makes things explode. Ratchet and Ironhide provide cover fire as Sam sprints down the road. Yep, they’re making this idiot WALK to the pickup point. Sure hope the elevators are working today, otherwise this is going to take forever.

Sam carries the AllSpark like a football, and in a better movie, this would have been foreshadowed by Sam having actually been a football player prior to the events of the film, perhaps removed from the team for some character flaw he’s since grown from/accepted. However, this is Bayverse, and well, men don’t have to justify their existence in the story with things like themes and having even an ounce of thought put into their character.

Back with Mikaela, Lennox has refused to learn her name, calling her “girl” as he screams at her to get Bumblebee hooked up to the tow truck. Which she was already doing when he got here. Lennox, dude, you’ve got a daughter now, you’re super extra not allowed to treat women like this.

Optimus Prime pulls through an alleyway and crashes into a pile of garbage. I can forgive him being late, seeing as he is a big rig, and probably had to take the long way into town so he didn’t get stuck in too-low tunnels. Don’t worry about how we briefly saw him during the Brawl take-down. This is his for real entrance into the climax.

He whips around and transforms, ready to throw the fuck down. Megatron spots him from his perch and descends.

Y’know.

Like a vast, predatory bird.

Megatron shoots at Optimus in his alt-mode, and Optimus catches him like a frisbee. Unfortunately for Optimus, it would appear that the horsepower on a Cybertronian flightcraft is hella intense, and he’s carried away. The two of them crash through an office building, then roll around in the streets punching each other in the face, debating the worth of humanity as they do so. Wish I actually gave a shit about either of these people, but alas! The film spent most of its runtime objectifying women and insulting minorities. I know nothing about Optimus, and even less about Megatron.

Megatron transforms his arms into a laser gun, and Optimus does the same. They shoot at each other. Optimus gets thrown into a building, then lands on the sidewalk below, definitely crushing a dude underneath him, but I guess we didn’t check that the shot was clear for where the CGI was gonna go, so he’s fine.

Sam’s still running through the streets, while Blackout murders, like, so many people behind him. Starscream lands in front of Sam, running into roughly 30 cars as he skids to a halt. Ratchet and Ironhide fire on him, as Sam takes a breather behind a car. Starscream transforms and blasts off. He was here for about 15 seconds. Sam begins running again.

Megatron is now following Sam, because he wants that Cube™. Sam is hit by a car- not an evil one, just a regular car- and trips. The impact makes the AllSpark activate, which grants several machines in the vicinity the gift of life, including the car full of bitchy women that just hit Sam, who are upset that hitting a human being might have scratched the paint.

I get it, you hate women, can we PLEASE stop beating this dead horse?

Sam finally gets to the pickup building, which turns out to be abandoned and fenced off. Good thing the gate was open, otherwise things could get really complicated. He heads inside, Megatron crashing through a floor-to-ceiling window shortly behind him. Megatron makes the claim that he can smell where Sam is. I’m going to choose to believe that he isn’t lying here, since Ratchet did something similar earlier.

Sam finds the stairs, and Megatron calls him a slur.

He doesn’t, really, but the voice modulation certainly makes it sound that way.

While this is happening, Mikaela is driving the tow truck down an alley, dragging Bumblebee behind her with the tow cable. She stops for a moment to have a short breakdown, seeing as she is a teenager in what is currently a warzone.

Sam is still running up the stairs. Outside, the military shoots at one of the Decepticons. It is, of course, doing absolutely nothing to the giant metal space robot. Mikaela concludes her moment, looking back at Bumblebee, who gives her the okay to keep going with dragging his ass across the pavement. She whips the truck around and tells Bumblebee “I’ll drive, you shoot.”

Mikaela then proceeds to speed down a main road of this sizable city backwards, running into cars and more or less shoving Bumblebee along to his destination.

The military has finally realized that their efforts have been pointless, but it’s okay because Bumblebee is here with his superior firepower. Bumblebee proceeds to shoot Brawl in the chest, which kills him. After this, he tries to act cute, lifting up his battle mask in a very “did I do that?” way, as if he’s not the same guy who ripped Barricade apart earlier.

Sam, meanwhile, has finally reached the top of this dilapidated building. Helicopters are approaching his location, but will they make it to him before Megatron does? Honestly, I’d be more worried about Starscream on the building just due East.

Sam is just about to hand the AllSpark over, when Starscream fires at the ‘copter, causing it to crash and nearly chop Sam to pieces. Optimus Prime runs towards the scene, on a roof that I refuse to believe could actually support him. Megatron punches thought the roof from the bottom and asks Sam some philosophical questions. Sam can’t answer, given that he’s hiding on the edge of this building, his flimsy grip on one of the angel statues being the only thing keeping him from falling.

Megatron tells him to give him the AllSpark, and in exchange he might not kill him immediately. Sam tells him to fuck off, and Megatron flails the chunk of building he was hanging on to, causing Sam to fall to his death, thus ending the film.

I’m lying to you. Michael Bay is making me into a liar.

No, Sam is, instead, caught by Optimus, very likely breaking several ribs on impact. This is the point where I realize that they’ve given Optimus fingernails. Sam clings to him like a baby koala, as Optimus parkours down the sides of two buildings, Megatron in pursuit. Megatron actually lands on Optimus 2/3rds of the way down, causing the both of them to fall onto the pavement below. How Sam survives this is a mystery.

Megatron recovers from the fall first, flicking a human away from him for having the audacity to exist in his space. The flicked person hits a car, and is almost assuredly dead. At least, I sure hope so, given that this is the director cameo by the Bayman himself.

Feminist icon Megatron?

Feminist icon Megatron.

Optimus comments on the fact that Sam almost fucking died to get the AllSpark out of dodge, and we get the return of “No Sacrifice, No Victory”. Which, I mean, I guess he’s allowed to say that, since he’s actually had to do something that warranted it. His dad doesn’t get to, though.

Optimus then tells this teenage boy, who has already had a hell of a day, to kill him by shoving the AllSpark into his robot-soul-heart, should he be unable to defeat Megatron.

I dunno, I just feel like it’s a bit of an ask.

Sam climbs off of Optimus so the Prime and Megatron can rumble. He runs through the ruined infrastructure of the city, so he’s less likely to be crushed. Optimus tells Megatron to square the fuck up, stating that “one shall stand, one shall fall.”

Then he gets ragdolled around a bunch, so maybe he should have saved the talk for later in the game.

The military is running around some more, stopping in an alley to see Blackout transform to root mode. Yes, the goo-goo eyes were indeed made by several members of the watch party that started this whole thing. People went wild for Rotor-Cape Johnson.

The fighter jets from the US military are arriving in a minute. Epps warns them to aim for the robots that aren’t evil. Lennox and the gang spread out, reminding each other to aim for the underboob, since Transformers’ armor is weak there. Epps marks Blackout with a little green light, which Blackout almost immediately notices. Blackout fires on the military.

Lennox has stolen a motorcycle and is driving through the streets to circle back around and jump off of the bike, sliding on his back to shoot Blackout directly in his underboob. Wonder what his uniform is rated for for road rash.

Sam is watching as Optimus gets his ass handed to him. Up in the sky, Starscream commits identity theft, and then attacks the Air Force. The Air Force can multitask however, and light Megatron the fuck up. Sam has, for some reason, come out of hiding, and Megatron uses this to his advantage, trying to take the AllSpark from him.

Optimus tells Sam to put the AllSpark in his chest, but Sam has a better idea. He shoves it into Megatron’s chest, which has been basically shot open at this point. Megatron makes a Space Invader noise, convulses a bit, then falls over dead.

Congrats on your first murder, Sam.

Optimus tells Megatron’s corpse that he got what was coming to him, then implies that they’re brothers. What flavor of brother isn’t established, but neither was basically anything between the two main faces of the franchise in this film, so it’s fine.

Ironhide walks up holding the two halves of Jazz. Optimus informs Sam that he now has a life-debt to this child. Whether or not Sam is absorbing any information at this point is up in the air. Mikaela shows up, with Bumblebee in tow.

In tow.

In tow-

Sam stares at her blankly. Mikaela stares back, making the pretty girl face. Man, what a great dynamic these two have.

Jazz is dead. That sucks. Optimus is handed his corpse to hold, while he thanks his new friends for helping out.

Then Bumblebee talks and he’s fucKING BRITISH.

Sam is obviously shocked by the fact that Bumblebee is British able to talk now, since not talking has been his whole thing up to this point. Optimus doesn’t let it phase him. Neither does Ratchet, despite having been working on Bumblebee’s throat injury for centuries at this point.

Bumblebee wants to stay on Earth with Sam. Optimus is just like whatever. Sam agrees to have a sweet Camaro from outer space.

Optimus pulls what is left of the AllSpark out of Megatron’s chest. I’m sure that’s not a setup for potential conflicts, not in the slightest.

Over in Washington, D.C., the US President has ordered Sector Seven be terminated, and all the Transformer corpses be disposed of. And by “disposed of” they mean “thrown into the ocean.” Dang, sure hope Earth signed some sort of agreement with the Transformers so that they never come to Earth again. You know, just be proactive about our galactic safety.

The Linkin Park kicks on, as Optimus gives us our bookend narration, telling us what the Autobots plan to do now that their race is at a genological dead end. As he does, we see Lennox reunite with his wife and child, who I had genuinely forgotten were in this movie.

Optimus is pretty chill with Cybertron dying out, because now they know about Earth. We get a shot of Sam and Mikaela making out, a shot that becomes more and more horrifying the further they zoom out, because they’re making out on top of Bumblebee. Who they KNOW is a sentient creature at this point.

And then it gets even worse, because the shot changes, and oh hey! Turns out that the rest of the Autobots were just chillin’ off to the side while this went down. Optimus continues his monologue, just walking around in his root mode as he tells all of Makeout Point how they’re “robots in disguise” now.

The monologue is actually a transmission he’s sending out into space, inviting any of his leftover pals to come kick it on Earth with them, because Earth is pretty cool.

And that’s where they leave us.

IT TOOK THREE PEOPLE TO WRITE THIS SCHLOCK.

So. Bayverse 1. A film showcasing xenophobia, misogyny, and toxic nationalism. It’s rough. Is it the worst film I’ve ever seen? Not even close, but it’s bad, and it was a huge deal at the time of release. Everyone was seeing it, everyone knew the actors and robots, everyone had a scene that they liked. Everyone was exposed to Bayverse, and as a result, a lot of people entered the Transformers franchise thinking that it was all like this.

And really, how far off would they have been in 2007?

When a franchise refuses to introduce female characters until years after being established, when all those female characters have the exact same body type, when a franchise hires misogynists to write stories, when it allows shit like “Prime’s Rib!” to be published- no wonder Michael Bay was approached to direct.

What a mess.

--------------------------

COMING SOON:

TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN (2009) - MEGAN FOX I AM SO FUCKING SORRY

TRANSFORMERS: DARK OF THE MOON (2011) - WILL YOU JUST STAY DEAD

TRANSFORMERS: AGE OF EXTINCTION (2014) - SHUT UP ABOUT THE LAW SHUT UP ABOUT THE LAW

TRANSFORMERS: THE LAST KNIGHT (2017) - ACTUALLY, FUCK CONTINUITY

#transformers #bayverse #part one #maccadam #Hannzreads #Hannzwatches #text post #long post #film analysis #off topic

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slashedthroughtheheart · 3 years ago

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Ok so, this has been bugging me for a while

Now, I know a lot of the fandom sees Bubba and Thomas as big plus size guys. And don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with being plus size. I myself have been plus size and fat since I was about 14.

However, a lot of people, the way they talk about these two makes them sound obese.

And that really... rubs me the wrong way?

I’ll put it under a read more since this is getting long.

So, lets look at it the way I see it. I look at Bubba both in movie and in DBD model, and I see an average body typed man. Maybe just a bit thicker around the middle than average but by no means Fat. He has some fat to him, most at his middle. But for the most part? Bubba is basically all meaty muscley heft. He’s thick like a strongman is thick. Which is why he is so strong. Why he can run with a chainsaw. Why he can haul people up onto his shoulders easily.

He’s not capital F fat. And the reason it upsets me to see him be called fat isn’t because being fat is bad(it’s not, fat is good for your body), it’s that he’s very obviously Not Fat in the way most people talk about him as. And I can’t help but think ‘So... that’s what you consider Fat? What am I then? Oh My God Obese?’ because if someone who has the shape and outline of Bubba being considered Chunky Fat, it’s... disheartening? Like, he’s not overweight by any means even?

Look, this is the original Leatherface. This is the original Bubba. He has a bit of a tummy, but I would not call him fat. As someone who is fat, I look at him and I see average male body.

This is Bubba in DBD and here, yes, he has a bit of fat right at the lower part of his abdomen, but he still isn’t fat. He has big beefy arms, wide shoulders, some hips, and that bit of tummy. But he just isn’t Fat. I’d venture that this version of Bubba is the chubbiest, but even then he isn’t particularly chubby. And he’s also pretty tall here. His weight is distributed rather evenly. He is proportionate.

And the same thing is done to Thomas who is even LESS fat than Bubba. He carries his ‘weight’ very well and it’s basically all muscle. The person who played Thomas was a wrestler, like? He was physically fit. He wasn’t chunky. He wasn’t fat.

And yet people talk about how Thomas would be insecure about his ‘pudge’ and the only thing I can think of is ‘what pudge?’

Thomas is Thicc but with muscle, not fat.

Look at him, that isn’t fat. He has a thick waist, which so many wrongly conflate with being fat. But no, he’s muscle. He’s strong. He isn’t fat. He’s got a barrel chest. He’s Big in a way that isn’t fat. He’s Big in a way that is spooky because it speaks strength, and we all know what he’s capable of.

And all of this just smacks of fatphobia. Because if someone like Thomas or Bubba is considered chunky fat, anyone who is Actually Fat is going to get alienated. Because the people who are doing this are doing it in an ‘uwu soft fat boi, protect him’ and like, if they were fat, that’s still gross?

Do not get me wrong, if you wanna headcanon them as being bigger, and you draw them bigger, that’s okay! But the stuff I’m talking about is these skinny people looking at someone who’s just physically bigger than them and just auto assuming that they’re fat just because they are physically bigger. And it’s gross. And damaging.

This has bugged me for so long, from the moment I stepped into this fandom.

It happens mid game too when I play Dead by Daylight and there’s a Bubba as the killer and people I either watch or am playing with will say ‘Oh, there’s the fat bastard’. Like, this is a problem. Bubba isn’t fat, none of the killers in DBD are fat. I’ve heard people call Trapper fat and he’s not? He’s built like a fucking tree. But it isn’t fat.

Just because a person physically takes up more space than you doesn’t make them fat.

Fat isn’t bad! I have a feeling a lot of this stems from people wanting to seem ~inclusive~ or woke or w/e, but they don’t actually want to respect fat people. They want to find the max size of a person they’re comfortable with existing and then label that fat, because to them, that is as fat as someone can be and still be tolerable.

I look at myself in the mirror and then look at how Bubba looks like even with all his clothes on, and I’m fatter. By a lot. I’m also afab so my fat sits differently, but still. I have a marked difference in body fat than Bubba. I’m Fat. And I can still lift people. I used to be a firefighter. I used to be captain of my volleyball team. I used to swim miles every day when I still lived close to the ocean. And even then, I was still fat.

I look at that, and think about those things, and I can only wonder and fear what the people who go ‘uwu soft chubby Bubba’ would say about me.

Words that have been thrown at me before come to mind, and I can only guess that they’d be similar.

It’s upsetting to think that people look at the actual model for Bubba in game and point and call him fat(derogatory). Because... he isn’t. And some of these people used to be my friends, until I just quietly shunted them from my life, because I don’t want that toxicity in my life. I don’t need them to find out I’m even bigger and turn around and call me the fat bastard.

I’ve had enough of that in my life already. I’ve been anywhere from just a little chubby to full on fat ever since I was a teen. I know how it feels to have your weight be the point of criticism/bullying/butt of jokes. It’s not good.

And all of this makes me really hesitant to even think about writing and posting stuff for Thomas and Bubba and really any of the other slashers who the fandom have deemed to be fat. Because I don’t see any of the slashers as fat in the slightest.

Because I won’t write them fat. I won’t write them having love handles to pinch like so many writers like to give Bubba. I won’t write them having a double chin. Because they don’t. And for me, the art I do, it’s all written. I can’t draw them, I can’t do them justice like that and be like ‘Here’s a comforting headcanon of them being actually chubby that makes me feel closer to them.’

I don’t trust the fandom to know I mean Actual Fat if I wrote those things. I don’t trust fandom to just read those things and think I believe Source Material is that.

And the whole thing that makes this worse? A lot of slashers were bullied when they were young, something a good majority of fat people understand and went through themselves. Something I went through. And I felt a kinship with slashers and fell in love with so many of them because I Get It. I have empathy for what they went through. While the things we faced weren’t the same, we still face ridicule for something we couldn’t change.

And before anyone goes and says ‘it’s not that deep’, I want everyone to think about why most people gravitate towards the slasher fandom. It’s usually out of that idea of ‘Society has cast you aside, it’s also cast me aside for whatever reason, so lets stick together’.

When you’re othered, you tend to lean more towards people that were othered as well.

When your own society has made you feel like you don’t belong, seeing someone else being cast out as well makes you more likely to bond to them. My very first slasher I fell for was Jason Voorhees. And it was real obvious why for me. I was a young little kid who had the nerdiest interests, and wore glasses, and was a bit chubby in the face even if I was thin everywhere else, and I was also the only not white kid in my area. And I had asthma? I was easy game. I got made fun of relentlessly, just like Jason did.

Kids physically hurt me as well. And when I first watched Friday the 13th, the connection I felt to him? That feeling? It was instant. I understood him, and my heart ached for him, because I KNOW how bad it hurts.

And I fell for Thomas, and Bubba, and Michael. And so many others. All because there was that connection. That moment of seeing just a sliver of my own pain in them.

And I’d venture a guess that that’s on par for why a lot of the people in the slasher fandom are even in the slasher fandom.

So why is there so much of this fatphobia? Why is there so many people who act like their original bodies are fat when they’re not? Why are we being othered in the one place we really shouldn’t be?

If you see this happening, say something. Point it out and say ‘that isn’t fat, why do you think that’s fat?’ This whole ‘body positivity’ movement is garbage and the roots of it are just so gross. ‘Don’t worry, you’re still sexy even if you’re fat’ like no. We don’t want body positivity, we want to stop being ridiculed for our bodies. It’s as simple as that. It’s literally just about wanting to be treated as humans with respect.

So please, be mindful of what you say. Hold yourself accountable for the impact you have with your words.

#Thomas Brown Hewitt #Bubba Sawyer #Leatherface #talking about fatphobia in the fandom #abuse tw #I'm just real tired of feeling like I wouldn't be accepted if people in the fandom saw me because of how they act about these two #It really is that deep #I can only imagine how other fat people in the fandom are feeling about this #And I know there are other fat people in the fandom because the amount of times I've seen requests about plus size readers #And my heart goes out to them because god I know how it feels to want to be accepted despite our weight #Maybe be accepted Because of our weight? That some slasher would Prefer us over our thin counterparts?#That would be nice and I know someday I will write something for it but with a slasher who can actually talk #Or maybe with Thomas but go with the headcanon that he has his lil notepad #I love that headcanon for him and I also feel like he'd probably prefer a thicker significant other #I want it to be 'I chose you because of how you treated me but you're also the most beautiful and attractive person I've ever seen'#I know this is a long post and a long rant even in the tags but god I'm tired of seeing it and I hate that I'm not comfy writing for them #I would venture that Thomas is my most loved slasher so me feeling uncomfy for writing for him makes me so sad #I'm tired and kind of angry and just so over this attitude everyone has #I face it enough in the real world please fuck off with that musty ass thought process in fandom

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notsafeforwisps · 2 years ago

Text

READ BEFORE INTERACTING

THIS IS A BLOG THAT CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT.

IT IS NOT SAFE FOR WORK, AND PARTICULARLY NOT SAFE FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 18.

I completely understand if you are underage and want to ignore that, believe me, I've been there, but you could get us both in a lot of trouble by hanging around here. To cover my ass, I DO NOT CONDONE MINORS VIEWING THIS PAGE.

With that out of the way, hi. Welcome to my personal garbage bin. You know me as Void as your OP/mun/host/mod or whatever for the Voidhog AU or Rocket anywhere else, but on this page you may call me Ghost.

I'm here to provide supplementary material for anyone interested in a saucier side to Voidhog; an extension of the main trio's character arcs in the five years between the Origins fic and the main Voidhog blog.

I'm primarily interested in providing content around Silver, and from the poll I hosted it seems many people are with me, but let's break down exactly what I will and won't be showing here.

What to Expect from this Blog

Belly/Feedism/Weight Gain Kink: Primarily surrounding Silver, but sometimes including Sonic and Shadow as well. Usually accompanied by a healthy helping of Spoiling and Hurt/Comfort.

Bondage and Dom/Sub Sexplay: Primarily surrounding Shadow, with him occupying both positions. For general reference; Sonic doms everyone, Shadow doms Silver, and Silver generally subs. But they like to mix it up.

Actual NSFW Scenes: I'm going to be desperately dancing around tumblr's censors here, but I do plan on writing and illustrating explicit sex scenes. I need to make clear that two of these characters are not cis, and the sexual content will directly depict that. I WILL NOT TOLLERATE COMMENTS ABOUT THIS THAT I DEEM TRANSPHOBIC. ANYONE FOUND MAKING TRANSPHOBIC COMMENTS OR HARASSING PEOPLE WHO INTERACT WITH THE RELEVANT POSTS WILL BE BLOCKED, AND POSSIBLY REPORTED. If you find an instance of this that I have not seen, DM me with screenshots and let me handle the situation, don't interact with the perpetrator yourself.

What I will NOT be Posting

Mpreg

Non-con

Vore

Excessive abuse in relation to BDSM

Emetto (y'know, vomit and stuff)

Weight gain beyond the canon designs shown on the main blog

Content surrounding characters outside of the poly trio

This list was last updated on: 6/18/2022

This list is subject to change and updates. I will not tolerate requests or asks around this list of content I'm uncomfortable making and sharing, and anyone found repeatedly asking for anything on this list will be blocked.

How to Avoid Content you Don't Want to See

If you are looking to customize your experience with this blog, here is the comprehensive list of tags you should block:

The Unsafe Wisp Speaks | Any post that contains commentary or clarification from me, Ghost. I'd prefer you didn't block this one to stay informed about what's going on here or get clarification about this aspect of the AU, but I'll list it here anyway.

The Void Expands | Weight gain content

NSFV![Character] (age) | A sorting system for characters, with their current age specified in parentheses. For example, NSFV!Shadow (21), or NSFV!Silver (18).

Additionally, there are tags for the Void!Swap and Void!Shift counterparts. NSFVS for Void!Swap and NSFVSH for Void!Shift. In use, they'll look like this: NSFVS!Sonic (19), or NSFVSH!Shadow (23).

The Void Consumes | Feedism content and food porn

The Void Hungers | Hungry or borderline starving characters (setup for hurt/comfort down the line)

The Void Constricts | Bondage

The Void Dominates | Dom/Sub Sexplay

NSFV![Character] [Doms/Subs] | A sorting system for particular characters being in the dom/sub role. For example, NSFV!Sonic Subs, or NSFV!Silver Doms.

Unsafe Void | Explicit sex scenes

This list was updated on: 6/28/22

I am completely willing to add more tags and go back to change tags as needed to ensure y'all are only seeing what you want to. Just shoot me a DM or submit an ask with what specifications you want me to add. This list will be updated every time I add or change a tag.

I plan on adding all of this information to an easily accessible page on this blog's header as well, along with further clarification. I will gladly answer anyone's questions about any content shown (or not shown) on this blog.

How to Appropriately Interact with this Blog

If you want to interact with this page further than quietly observing and occasionally liking posts, here are my terms:

Sending Asks and Requests: You can send prompts and requests for me to draw or write short drabbles of. Alternatively, you can send asks to Sonic, Silver, and Shadow directly, and even choose to specify what age you want the characters to be when responding (the options range from 18-23).

Reblogging: I ask that you tag anything you reblog from here as mature, even if the particular post doesn't portray a sex scene. Also, please don't repost my work. If you want to share an artwork with someone, provide a link to the relevant post.

I believe that's everything. Thank you for spending the time to read through this TOS of sorts, and I hope you enjoy feasting on this garbage with me!

#the unsafe wisp speaks

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rurifangirl · 3 years ago

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chile anyways im here to bring the raccoon in garbage sum cheeze💅

aighg so like, what pronouns does echo use? i seen ya switch round from masculine to nonbinary ones👁 ill use masculine pronouns for the ask🤡

does echo have any notable accesorues other than his horns? like piercings, tattoos etc its vry important

his opinion on our residwnt shoe twink?👀

does he in his furry form eat grass and thingies like that💃

does he hate/dislike anyone from the cast? does he have reasons for it?

how would echo react to wakin up and havin his head shaven👁

does he have any strong opinions on food? like hatin sum or luvin sumthin so much he could eat it for the rest of his life

if ya could describe him w a song tital,mwhat would it be💃

and last but not least

opinions on cats🔫👁👁

Im taking the lil cheese w me now 🦝🧀

aighg so like, what pronouns does echo use? i seen ya switch round from masculine to nonbinary ones👁 ill use masculine pronouns for the ask🤡

AAAAAA I THINK I NEVER RLY SAID ITAHSKDKD

Anyways, Echo uses It/He pronouns, and doesn't mind being referred as masculine so dw 😭

does echo have any notable accesorues other than his horns? like piercings, tattoos etc its vry important

YES IT DOESSSS, Aight soso, It has marks all around his body, some are visible, such as the ones he has on his face and some on its chest, while some are covered my clothing, but even then, it's pretty covered up in those. They've also multiplied with time, like his horns growing did, so when he first was cursed, they were a lot less.

Some of them are even on its deer form, even if lesser. But, they still are there!!

As for piercings, he doesn't have them, but purely because It was so outside the human world that It didn't get time to know what they were. If It would know, he would get some of them.

his opinion on our residwnt shoe twink?👀

HOHOHOHOHO SO

They still haven't quite met (The only time they did was for a brief moment, where the 6 dumbass and the trio accidentaly Met in battle, but they quickly got away, because of other things that if you'd like to, i could expand on it😩), since Echo is with Myst n co™,

But if they could, they'd either be interested in the other, or would hate eachother.

Even if I'm going more for interest. Because, both of them didn't have that much human contact, but they reacted in much different ways. And even then, Shou found something he could live for without problems, still trying to defeat his shame. Echo...quite didn't.

Or at least, It can't fight It. How could he? There's nothing left to prove its worth, and not being particulary interested in romance or bonds, this didn't help.

He wants to know how Shou did It. Or how he managed to keep It down. Since honour and shame are some elements they both have in common.

does he in his furry form eat grass and thingies like that💃

BAHKDKSIAKDJX YEAH. IT DOES😭 N THE FACT MOST OF THE TIME IT IS IN HIS DEER FORM AIN'T HELPING. In fact, sometimes he's so used to It, in his human form he still eats fucking grass

N he also has a dislike for dogs because of bein so much into bein a deer...😔

N if you're wondering why It uses that a lot it's cus it's far easier to use for travels.

does he hate/dislike anyone from the cast? does he have reasons for it?

Aight so, he does dislike Kerei quite a bit, because It reminds him of when It left everyone It ever knew.

But even then, Kerei in confront of him ran away because he didn't feel unrestood, even if he had people that cared about him.

He had an home he could've returned to. But what does he do? Fuck that all around. That makes Echo disappointed.

He has a lil dislike for Myst being really loud, but in the end it tolerates that. And he also joines with her into poking Kerei so, a win-win.

how would echo react to wakin up and havin his head shaven👁

It wouldn't notice It at first, but when It would.

He would have that dad disappointed look, with a cup of erb tea on his hand, going down on the gang n just going "alright which of you fuckers did this?"

does he have any strong opinions on food? like hatin sum or luvin sumthin so much he could eat it for the rest of his life

OH YES HE RLY LOVES BLACKBERRIES!! After joining the gang, him and Eris usually search for some, since moon's one of the only ones It kinda likes since the beginning.

They also both talk about stuff on the way, and that's how they bond for the most part!!

He despises potatoes. Every single one of em, can't stand them under any circumstance.

if ya could describe him w a song tital,mwhat would it be💃

Ehdowoidjdkw "A blessing of a curse"??? Mabye??? This Is the only one I ain't sure on😭😭

opinions on cats 🔫👁️👁️

It likes em, far more than with dogs. He's one of those mfs that would get a cat and would do the "evil turn around" while petting it.

Tags undercut 🐏:

@a-chaotic-dumbass @spoopy-fish-writes @damnfoxx @dopesaladlady @nadi-117 @audre-falrose

#Yes i took sm time cus this sucked me innnn😩#But thank ya cus this helped a lot 🤍#ruruasks #rurusocs #oc #ocs #my ocs stuff #echo #myst #kerei #eris #shou #my ocs

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foxtophat · 4 years ago

Link

MERRY CHRISTMAS IN JANUARY EVERYONE yeah i know ~nothing is fixed~ but whatever, fuck you, have some fanfic

so anyway i’ve been planning this for a while, i’m kinda shocked tho b/c i finished writing it in like less than 3 days??? (aside from editing) usually it takes me longer to at least figure out how to wrap things up, but at least this one was easy money. i’m sure none of the other ones will be so kind to me

this one takes place a month or so after the last one; it’s set in spring 2028 (omfg finally on a new year!!!!) and it has a little something to do with carmina finally getting some chickens!!!! one thing about new dawn that i think was really lacking is the explanation of how life... restarted before the highwaymen. i definitely remember a few houses having chicken coops, too, so i know i’m not crazy putting these feathered friends in. to me, chickens are the most sensible post-apocalyptic pet outside of a dog; easy to care for, provide food while alive AND after death, and they can reproduce easily enough if you’ve got a rooster on hand. i can imagine a family making quite a life for themselves as a poultry farm in the apocalypse!

ugh idk what else to say so i’ll just say it: thank you so much for all of your comments and kudos on this series. i am so stoked to know that my self-indulgent trash is delicious to more than just my possum ass! i’ve had a lot of fun worldbuilding in ubisoft’s playground, and i hope to continue doing more fun stuff that other people will enjoy too!!!

with all that said, i hope you enjoy the fic :) i’ll put it below the cut for you if you don’t wanna leave tumblr, but ao3 looks so much better. anyway, thank you and have a great jan 20th!!!!

Winter melts away the same way it does every year, leaving in its path wet dirt and green buds of spring growth. John, nursing what's likely the last cup of coffee they can wring from this batch of grounds, stares out over the back yard and idly marvels at how quickly the snow had disappeared. Montana had been his first experience with white winters; even though he's gotten used to the changing seasons in theory, though, he can't help but be distracted by it year after year.

Across the yard, situated just in sight by the hangar, John can plainly see Carmina's new chickens looking for breakfast. They're the newest addition to the homestead, but so far John has only had to watch from afar as the Ryes worked to adjust them to their new home. He's not sure who's raising chickens out here, but at least they were willing to barter. Fresh eggs are going to mean a lot more than the dwindling supplies out of Jacob's cache.

The misty-gray of early morning has almost evaporated in the rising sunlight, and still the chickens haven't been fed. John watches them from where he stands, their frustration leading to subdued crows as they scratch at the dirt. He doesn't know who's noisier — them, or Nick and Kim arguing at the table behind him. Thank Christ the wet end of winter is over; John doesn't think he can tolerate much more of their married nagging. On some level, he's glad they don't make a habit of yelling at him instead of each other, but Jesus, he can't wait for them to both get some space from one another.

"This is why we said we weren't gonna do pets, remember?" Nick says. "Because if she got a pet, we would end up taking care of it. Remember?"

"Yes, Nick, I remember."

"Yeah, and here we are!"

Kim sighs. John doesn't have to look to see the exasperated eye-roll that comes with it. "It wasn't me who kept her up late last night! Which one of us was egging her on when she should have been asleep?"

This is exactly why John has never owned a pet. They're more trouble than they're worth, and the only thing they seem to be good for is teaching shitty life lessons to kids who don't care enough to learn. The only good thing about the chickens is that they provide something in return other than obnoxious crowing.

Carmina thumps around upstairs. John isn't looking forward to having to listen to Kim lecture her on responsibility, but he's not thrilled to listen to much more of this bickering, either. If his choices are to stay inside and fester or go out into the first nice day of the year — well, that's not much of a choice, is it?

"Fine," John sighs before either of the Ryes can set their sights on him, "I'll do it."

"Nobody's asking you to do it," Kim replies. "It's Carmina's responsibility."

John shakes his head. "Of course it is. Where's the feed?"

Nick points out a white plastic container sitting on the pass-through to the kitchen. "Not gonna wait for us to boss you around?" he asks.

John picks up the container and rattles it to make sure it's full. "I'm streamlining the process," he replies. "Unless you enjoy giving me orders."

Sure enough, implying Nick might like being a bossy piece of shit is enough to get him to shut up. He sighs with a deep frown at John, who ignores him as he heads out to the coop. It's a petty satisfaction to take the rug out from under Nick's feet, but John's not above it. Not by a long shot.

Some of it might be compensating for the disintegrating peace that had come with winter. Before the blizzard set in, they'd had enough on their collective plates as they prepared for the worst of the season. Afterward, the snow had prevented them from doing much more than what was necessary to survive, and the resulting downtime had settled like a comfortable blanket. Even now, with a few weeks of grating interpersonal interactions, John feels more focused, more rested than he can ever remember feeling. Living underground for eight years, he'd naively thought that he'd gotten enough rest to last him a lifetime — but he'd been strung out on Bliss and trying not to suffocate, and he hadn't known what he was doing. He's starting to suspect that the Bliss might've had a worse effect on him than the myriad other drugs he'd ingested. Hell, he's not sure he's clean even now — but he's managing, and that's what matters.

It's only once he's halfway across the yard that John realizes Kim forgot to argue about him going off on his own. Sure, he's only going as far as the hangar, but it's become something of a pleasantry she uses whenever John pretends to have the freedom to go where he pleases. Her irritation at Carmina and Nick probably made her forget. She's gotten so used to trusting John that she's finally found other things to take up her attention.

Weirdly enough, the casual disregard for his potential backslide irritates him. It really shouldn't. He should be thrilled that he can finally disappear from view for an hour without somebody calling out a search party. He's more than earned it, he thinks, but their trust highlights their naivety. Luckily for them, John means it when he says he's changed — but it's a line they're going to hear time and again from people far less genuine than he's been. They're so willing to help everyone and anyone that they don't even realize how much of a target they're making themselves. John's had to hold his tongue whenever Nick gives free supplies to shifty-eyed tweakers who are "just passing through," and while he trusts Kim not to let anyone obviously suspicious into the house, he doesn't trust her to recognize a cunning liar.

The last thing John needs is for the Ryes to put their trust in the wrong reformed psychopath. At least he's capable of picking up their slack. After all, John has his time at law school and years of psychological abuse under his belt — plenty of real-world experience dealing with unrepentant garbage. He'll notice it when somebody cases the hangar or acts too erratically, and hopefully the Ryes will listen to him if he gets the nerve to voice his concerns.

Not for the first time since summer, John is struck with a newfound respect for Jacob and the role he'd inhabited in the Project. It used to be his job to look out for insurrectionists, and he'd taken on that burden even when John and Joseph would openly dismiss his concerns. John can't imagine how many fires Jacob must've put out while the rest of the family was distracted by the Bliss. Looking back on it now, it's honestly a surprise they maintained their operation as long as they did, considering only one of the four of them was ever sober.

The chickens are hopping at his arrival, scuttling around the dirt and crowing as John reaches the pen. They don't notice him so much as the bin he rattles on approach, full of vegetable cuttings and strange white worms that come out whenever it rains. John doesn't mind one lick — he's never been much of an animal person, and he certainly doesn't care if Carmina's so-called pets notice his existence. Of course, knowing Carmina, she's going to use this as an excuse to shift breakfast duty to John full-time, and John won't have much of a say in the matter.

Well, that's not strictly true, but if Carmina asked, he knows he would do it, if only to give his day more structure. Truthfully, he's grown to depend on routine, when before it was impossible to keep to a schedule that didn't involve other people's expectations of him. There's probably a metaphor to be made about trains on and off the tracks, but John has never been particularly interested in locomotives.

John shakes the dead bugs and scraps out into the pen, watching the hens as they race to be the first to eat. They're perfectly happy now that they've been fed, cooing and clucking as they peck the dirt. They certainly seem content with safety and food — not entirely unlike the survivors living day-to-day in the town and beyond. Sure, John might not always be satisfied by bare sustenance, and one day he'll chafe under the grind of surviving week to week, but for now, he might as well be a dumb chicken crowing in the morning sun.

He throws some more feed into the pen, watching the three hens waddle after their meal. One of them lingers by the fence, freezing for a moment as her head swivels back and forth. She pecks at the dirt away from the feed before hustling after her two companions. John watches as she stops again; when he tosses a few worms in her direction, she pecks briefly at them before lifting her head to survey her surroundings.

The primal sensation of something being wrong nearly overtakes John's reasoning, before he manages to remind himself that a chicken's predators aren't exactly his to worry about. Still, he rattles the container to bring the hens scuttling towards him; all three are easily distracted by food now, but John can't shake the feeling that he'd missed something they hadn't. A fox, maybe? A snake? Anything could be lurking in the woods on the other side of the wash. Not a whole lot that could hurt him , of course, but he's not about to be blamed for Carmina's chickens being eaten by a wild dog.

The fence-line is... nebulous past the hangar, sure, but John's positive Kim doesn't consider the rest of the old airport off-limits. Then again, she might be in the mood to lecture him once she gets through with Carmina. It's a risk he's not sure he's willing to take.

Two chickens continue to eat as one keeps watch, their heads bobbing up and down as they switch off. Their unease mirrors his own, and John can imagine Faith giggling at him for being swayed by some dumb birds.

"Very well, ladies," he sighs, shaking the remainder of their breakfast onto the ground. "Don't let them say I don't care."

The chickens don't give three shits about John's motivations, of course; they watch him go, pecking at the food with increasing carelessness as the distance grows. John rolls his eyes at their sudden fearlessness, half-convinced to let whatever animal is lurking eat them out of spite.

There's a wide swath of dirt behind the hangar, separating it from the mostly-overgrown remnants of Rye Aviation that couldn't be saved. John can see the edge of the chicken pen from here, but the hangar is blocking him from the house. Even though he knows the Ryes trust him not to run off, he still feels distinctly uneasy going somewhere where they can't see him. At this point, Nick would probably only tease him for it, but John's not about to linger out here and risk turning Kim's irritation on himself.

To the right of the derelict hangars is a sparse wedge of trees that have grown in uninterrupted. John knows there's a path cut between the trunks, one he'd made himself while hauling the tire-planters for Kim last year, and there's a long stretch of unused runway beyond it. It isn't a great place for anything bigger than a fox to lurk in. That doesn't explain the feeling of being watched that comes over him as he stops halfway across the empty dirt lot; he looks around, but there's no place for anything to hide out here. The overgrowth on the old hangars can't be more than two feet high, and the bushes in the copse are brambly and sparse. The only place anything could hide would be in the trees, which is why John approaches them with more caution than they're worth.

The thinned underbrush is easy to explore, but John goes carefully as he picks through the trees and bushes. He doesn't know exactly what he's looking for — some sign of predators, whatever those might be — but he doesn't find much. There are some hoof-prints clear in the dirt, curving sharply away from the Rye homestead and back out to the airstrip, which tells John that the goddamn deer are back, probably looking to eat their hard-grown crops. Other than that, there's no sign of anything that might be stalking the hen-house. The ground is still somewhat soft from the rain a few nights ago, but it barely takes the imprint of John's boots as he explores the small grove.

That's why it's such a shock to see the tread of a narrow boot in the dirt by the trunk of one of the trees, well off the beaten path. It's an old print, he thinks — but he doesn't remember the last time any one of them had been out this way. Certainly not since the last time it rained.

An electric shock conducts itself down his spine. Somebody had been out here, hiding here in the trees, and it's only been two, three days since the last rain. John turns, and from his vantage point, he can clearly see the coop and the back of the hangar, but not the house. For that, he'd have to move out of the trees, into direct view of the porch.

It has to be Grace's boot. She's the only one he could imagine creeping around the property with good intentions. But even that explanation doesn't settle the anxious flip of his stomach; he tries not to let it show as he marches from the trees, intent on dragging Nick over and proving to him once and for all that they need to be more goddamn careful about who they let around the property. Somebody is going to want the copper fixtures they've salvaged, even if there's nobody to sell the metal to these days.

John gets halfway back to the coop when he catches something in his peripheral vision. Terrible, primal terror grips him as he fixes his gaze on the trick of the light that had scared him, ready to catch Grace peering at him over the abandoned hangars, or maybe a pack of wild dogs. What he sees instead turns his blood to ice, caught like a deer in headlights as the low-hanging shrubbery and thick vines shift and part for a rising mass of dark brown fur. The shape that rises from the underbrush is a tall, dark smudge against the blue sky, and John nearly swallows his tongue when he sees its face — or the horrifying absence of one, replaced with white, flaking skin and two huge, empty eye-sockets that are fixed on John's position.

It doesn't move. Neither does John, frozen to the spot as the chickens begin to crow and fuss. He can't fathom what he's looking at — a bear, a person, a fucking mutant? — but whatever it is, he suspects it's infected with Bliss. Who knows how many angels ended up underground after the Collapse? What might've happened to them in the years since? All John knows about them is that they're dangerous to everybody but Faith, and Faith died a decade ago. If this is an angel — God, there'll be no stopping it. And if it isn't — then what the hell is it ?

There's no way for John to get from here to the house without the thing chasing him. The hangar is blocking his brutal oncoming murder from the two people who might actually be able to do something about it. He doesn't have to look to know the distance from here to the house is insurmountable.

The creature lifts its arm, and the situation that couldn't get any worse takes an even more horrifying turn as it reveals its weapon of choice: a crudely fashioned bow, the same kind of handmade weaponry that Joseph's followers have been seen with.

All at once, Nick's voice is ringing in John's ears, warning him of what's going to happen if this gargoyle takes him away. The things John hadn't considered before — the Ryes' reputation, Carmina's safety, the hard-won trust John's gained from the survivors — it's all in jeopardy. The situation barrels into him all at once — the realization that whatever Joseph did to create this thing , he won't hesitate to turn on John.

He tries to shout a warning, but his breath is caught in his throat. Faith's voice, faint on the breeze, laughs and whispers sing-song into his ear:

They've found you!

The monster barrels down the slope of the hill as if prodded into action by a hot poker. Its gait is wide, bringing it towards John at speeds impossible to outrun. This time, John's shout comes out clear as a bell, panic screaming through him as he turns and bolts for the house. He nearly clips himself on the pen as he hangs a sharp right turn, the porch coming into full sight —

Something snags the back of John's shirt, and his momentum briefly chokes him. A thick arm bears down across his neck before he can rip free, the creature grunting in exertion as it yanks him backward. John feels his boots scrape on the dirt as he's dragged towards the trees, away from the safety that's plain in sight.

Animal instinct kicks in. John gnashes his teeth but there's nothing to bite, so he kicks out his feet instead, first in front of him and then harshly backward until he can hook his shin behind his assailant's and trip them both to the ground. The creature goes down with a surprised grunt; John does his best to roll away, only to be yanked back by his hair. He's distantly aware that he's spitting like a cat in a sack, clawing and biting, the two of them rolling in the dirt as John screams profanities and heresy at the monster trying to pin him down, anything to convince the universe to take mercy on him for once in his fucking life!

The creature manages to grab him by the shoulder, throwing him into the dirt before backhanding him violently across the face. It's enough to daze him; for one horrible second, he's unable to do anything as the monster begins to drag him across the dirt by the legs.

There's a commotion coming from the house. For a split second, the creature looks up, and John realizes his opening at the same time the monster realizes its mistake. It looks down just in time for John to kick it square in its barky, hollow-eyed face, sending a split down the wooden facade.

" John !"

The monster reels backward as if burned, grabbing at the mask as it falls away. John catches sight of a single dark, wild eye behind the broken wood before he kicks out again, sending both boots into his assailant's chest. As soon as the creature staggers back, John bolts, scrambling towards Kim as she races toward him with the rifle drawn. Nick is hot behind her; he grabs John's shoulder and drags him partway back to the house. John doesn't need the escort, and so Nick quickly leaves him to scramble up the porch as he goes after his wife.

John gets all the way to the stairs inside before he realizes there's no safe place to hide. He'd found out this winter just how flimsy the prisoner story had been; if somebody wants to take him, all they have to do is climb onto the roof and jimmy the lock on the nearest window. Whether it's through the broken window in his room or a gap in the roof leading to the attic, the Project will find him. He can't possibly outrun them forever. He'd be stupid to even try. God, he'd been a fool for thinking Joseph wouldn't send someone looking for him, that he wouldn't want to snatch John back from the clutches of apostasy. There's no way Joseph will leave a loose end like him untied.

John sinks to the bottom steps in his mounting despair, only to realize for a second time that he's being watched. The realization is less of a shock as Carmina peers at him around the kitchen archway; she jumps at the distant rapport of gunfire, staring owl-eyed at John as though she expects him to do something.

"Stay down," John hisses, setting an example as he keeps low on his way into the kitchen.

"What happened?" Carmina asks, frantic, "Is mom gonna be okay?"

"Yes," John replies, although he can't possibly know that for sure. He waits a beat, listening for more gunshots, then carefully lifts his head to check out the window when none come. He lets out the breath he'd been holding when he sees Nick standing with his hands on his hips, staring at Kim further down the yard. Whatever the danger had been, it's not pressing enough to warrant immediate action.

"Seriously," Carmina whines, as if that could hide her fear. "What was it? Was it a bear? Grace says there are bears in the woods but I've never seen —"

John sinks to the ground, his mind reeling even as the panic passes, leaving him numb. "It wasn't a bear."

Carmina chews on her lower lip, looking up towards the window as though she might try looking for herself. "Are the chickens okay?" she asks.

"They're fine," he sighs. He pushes his hair from his face, only to realize that his hands have started to tremble with run-off adrenaline.

"Are... you okay?" she asks, frowning as though she can't decide whether or not his wellbeing is her problem to deal with.

Goodwill must be genetic, John laments. "I'm fine," he tells her. She gives his shaking hands a hard look; he sighs and reiterates, "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"I'm not," Carmina huffs. Apparently, Nick's attempts to teach Carmina how to bluff haven't worked out.

John is saved from needing to reassure her as Nick abruptly appears in the kitchen arch, out of breath and red-faced. His shock gives way to relief at the sight of the two of them huddled by the counter. He's out of breath and visibly bewildered.

"Shit, John, you okay?"

"I'm fine," he says, although he doubts Nick will believe it any more than Carmina had. His foot jogs uselessly against the floor. "Kim — did she...?"

Nick shakes his head. "She tried," he says, "But it was too fast. What the fuck was it ?"

"Somebody from the Project."

"No shit. But — look, it wasn't an angel , was it?"

John shakes his head. "I don't know."

Kim storms into view, making her way to the pass-through from the living room side. She sets the rifle down on the counter, catching John's eye with a glare. John hurries to explain himself, as if he could possibly apologize for bringing the cult back to her doorstep.

"I was checking for foxes," he tells her, "I didn't think it — if I'd known what it was, I wouldn't have gone on my own."

Despite the fury in her eyes and the hard edge to her voice, Kim seems to mean it when she replies, "As long as nobody's hurt."

But the damage is done, and John can't help but babble on uselessly. "I wasn't looking in the right place. But I shouted as soon as I saw it. I just — couldn't outrun it. I wasn't fast enough. And I wasn't — it was stronger than I expected, stronger than..." Even he can hear the panic edging into his voice, cutting himself off with one last worried question. "Do you think it's gone?"

"It better be, if it knows what's good for it," Kim replies. "Are you sure you're okay?"

At any other time, John would be irritated to have to reassure every single Rye individually that he isn't in the throes of a panic attack. Right now, he's only grateful to realize that Kim doesn't blame him for the thing's appearance.

"I am," he says. "Thank you."

Nick groans, covering his eyes with one hand as he leans against the counter. "So much for it being safe to go out alone. Damn it, we got too comfortable."

" I got too comfortable," John says. "It wouldn't have cared about either of you."

"What about the chickens?" Carmina asks, "Are they safe there?"

Kim crosses her arms. "What I want to know is what the hell the Project is doing out here."

Her question is the only one John has any insight into, although he doesn't know how realistic his theory is. "They might be hunting deer," he says. "The only thing I saw, other than — than that , were deer tracks."

"All the way out here?" Kim asks skeptically.

"The hunting can't be any good in that swamp they're hiding in," Nick points out, frowning as he considers the idea. "And there are more survivors around the river these days. I'd bet that'd make for slim pickings."

"I doubt we'd even know they come out this far if I hadn't been the one out there. At least we've confirmed they're actively searching for resources beyond their compound — and they're relying on traditional methods to do so. Most likely because the armory was destroyed."

"Thank God for the Deputy," Nick sighs. "Okay. We're just gonna have to... I dunno, be willing to shoot, I guess." He doesn't sound so sure about it, and he quickly softens the intention. "At least a couple more warning shots. Once they remember guns outstrip arrows every way but sustainability, they'll probably keep back."

"We can push the fence-line out, too," Kim says. "It won't necessarily stop them, but at least it'll give them a line to cross. They're not cavemen — they remember property laws and how those get enforced around here."

"We'll have to start checking the traps more often. They might be living like bloodthirsty Mennonites right now, but that doesn't mean they aren't willing to steal to survive."

"They'll justify it one way or another," John sighs.

"So I guess we don't have to move the chickens after all," Nick says, "So long as we establish a perimeter. Sound good, Carmina?"

Carmina must have slipped out at some point during the conversation because she's nowhere to be found in the kitchen. Nick glances over John's head and out the window, swearing loudly.

"What the hell is she doing out there?"

John gets to his feet as Nick and Kim take off. He watches them through the window as they chase after Carmina, who's stopped to look around partway towards the coop. Either she's dumber than she seems, or she's inherited both of her parents' reckless streaks. Either way, she's going to leave herself open the same way John had. She's too confident that nobody wants to hurt her. The only way John knows how to teach that lesson, though, is not one that Kim or Nick would approve of — and so he sidelines his worries in favor of sticking with whoever is more armed than he is.

By the time John comes outside, Kim is knee-deep in the middle of a heated lecture about safety and responsibility. Carmina scowls at her feet, her face turning red as she's scolded. John ignores them, passing them by in favor of catching up with Nick, who's come to a stop a few yards past the coop. He's staring out into the unoccupied land — land that used to be his property, once. Now Nick is as much a stranger here as John is.

"Check it out," Nick says, holding out a thin, white-barked piece of wood. John takes it and recognizes it immediately as part of the mask he'd broken in two. The hole for the eye is a roughly cut gouge in the soft wood, and the bark flakes as he wipes his thumb across it.

"I hadn't even considered a mask," John admits. "I thought it was a monster."

"You and me both," Nick replies. He heaves a sigh. "Still waiting for the mutants to crawl out of the sewers, I guess. But I think we can handle a couple of jackasses with arrows."

John squints across the clearing, as if maybe his assailant has hung around waiting for them to reappear. "Next time, it might be Joseph," he points out grimly. "That hunter recognized me immediately. They'll tell him I'm here, and he'll want to find me."

"Come on. Like Joseph's gonna risk crossing enemy territory on foot. I'd be more worried about those goddamn hunting parties you used to send out."

John unconsciously reaches up to rub his throat. "Yeah," he says. "You're right. One of them clearly wasn't enough, but if Joseph decides I'm worthwhile, they'll come as a pack. If he's still manufacturing Bliss somehow, it would be easy to subdue me. And then..."

He's surprised out of his would-be reverie as Nick slaps his shoulder with a heavy hand. "We're not gonna let that happen," he says. "As long as you put up the same fight you did today, Kim and I are gonna come running."

Despite the reality of hidden archers and surprise ambushes, John allows himself to be reassured by the sentiment. At the very least, he pretends for Nick's sake. "I suppose you two were quick to the rescue," he drawls. "But if they get me to the tree-line, I'd rather you just put me down before I get dragged all the way back to the compound."

Nick chuckles. "We'll try to avoid that for now."

Looking over his shoulder, John catches Kim crouched down in front of Carmina, hands on her shoulders. Whatever she's saying, it's too quiet for John to hear, but Carmina's sniffles are a loud precursor to a lot of tears.

"I guess she believed you when you said the Project wouldn't care about us," Nick sighs. "At this rate, we're gonna have to put a bell on her."

"I could tell her about the child soldiers from the summer camp, if that would prove the gravity of the situation."

Just the mention of it makes Nick look a little queasy, and John immediately regrets bringing it up. "I don't want to scare her that badly," Nick says. "She's a good kid, she means well. She just needs to stop going off half-cocked, is all." He rubs his hand across his forehead and complains, "I thought we taught her to be smarter than this."

"She's still your kid," John says. Nick gives him a sour look, but it's the truth no matter how bitter Nick might feel about it. "You can't expect her to be utterly obedient, given her genetics."

"I guess ." He sighs, shaking his head. "At any rate, it's time we stop sugar-coating the cult for her benefit. She's obviously not taking it seriously."

John looks again and sees Kim embracing Carmina tightly. He can't help but worry about what might happen if the hunters come back. When he'd been with the Project, he'd understood Joseph's motivations — at least superficially — but now he's completely in the dark. They used to fill their ranks with abducted children and their desperate parents. He has no idea if Joseph is in a position to expand his flock, but if he is... John does not doubt that they'll start with the young and impressionable. Carmina, being young but not as impressionable as they'd like, probably wouldn't make it back to the compound before she got herself killed. He can't imagine anyone having enough patience to break her.

"You... uh, think we should be worried?" Nick asks after a brief stretch of silence.

"Not yet," John replies grimly. After all, the Ryes have a bargaining chip like no other, in case their daughter is ever taken. John can see to it that she's left alone, but it will only work once — and after that, who knows which brother will be sending hunters after her.

"Good thing we got ourselves a couple of extra guns," Nick says. "You and her are gonna have to start carrying pretty much everywhere."

"I'm sure people will love that."

"Fuck people, man, did you see the size of that fucking guy?"

John can't help a wry smile. "They weren't so big. If I were a couple of years younger, I would have taken them."

"Yeah, sure. "

The lecture must be over with for now, as Carmina's attention has turned back to her chickens. Kim watches her from a distance; John can't read her expression from here, but her posture is tense and defensive. John can't blame her — he doesn't have a parental bone in his body, but the stress of raising a child in these conditions isn't lost on him. Trying to instill a sense of fear into somebody who lived their formative years without a threat in sight can't be easy. Doubly so, considering Carmina can no doubt outgun the rudimentary weaponry the Project is utilizing. Hell, maybe they really are only a threat to him. Maybe it doesn't matter if Carmina sneaks out of the house.

"She won't leave unnoticed again," John decides, because it's the only promise he can genuinely keep.

"Oh yeah? You're gonna eat those words when she's a teenager."

"I'd hope she would be smart enough to bring back up by then."

"Me too." Nick exhales loudly enough to get Kim's attention, stretching one arm over his chest, then the other. "Well, I guess we better get started if we want to have anything to show for it by nightfall."

Even so, it takes Nick another moment before he brings himself to move. John lingers behind, unable to help himself as he eyes the trees distrustfully. There's nothing saying that hunter isn't still out there, watching them from a safe distance. If Jacob had a hand in training them, it's unlikely that John will ever see them coming again. He's likely lost the one chance at a level playing field, and he hadn't even realized it was something he could lose.

Fuck it. It doesn't matter. John has adapted time and again to every disaster in his life, and there's something to be said for the person who he's become. If this is the next catastrophe that he'll have to weather, then so be it. If he isn't capable of dealing with Joseph by now, then it's likely he never will be — and if that turns out to be the case, he can only hope that Kim is as quick on the trigger as she seemed to be today.

#far cry new dawn #fcnd #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #carmina rye #far cry fanfic #my fic #ugh tagging sucks on this site #mercyverse

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mysterious-prophetess · 4 years ago

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Some BnHA Thoughts I’ve had recently

Warning: this gets long and rambly and is a personal opinion.

I know I’m probably not the only person who’s thought this but the whole Hero System of BnHA/MHA is just kind of...weird.

The origins are explained in the spin-off, I think. IDK I don’t read Illegals.

Nothing against Illegals I just don’t want to read it. What I’ve seen is ok, but anyway, back to my point.

Heroes working legit and for money is just very.....weird for someone like me who has grown up with the older Western comic hero canon where superheroes were, and still are, vigilantes who don’t get paid and don’t get to really enjoy any sort of public accolades, unless you’re particular heroes in the DC or Marvel universes.

Even then, someone like my favorite hero of all time—Superman—doesn’t get to really be Superman 24/7. He still has to be Clark Kent and live Clark Kent’s life. Honestly, it’s what makes an alien with OP godlike powers relatable. That is if writers actually take the time to write his relationships with his family/friends and not jettison off the other characters in stupid OOC ways that previous characterizations of Clark wouldn’t have tolerated.

Sure, Clark can do all that super-powered stuff but it doesn’t get his articles in on time or his bills paid. He has to still participate in society and keep his lives relatively separate.

My second favorite hero of all time—and my love for Superman is pretty unshakable so this second place has a decent gap—is Spider-Man. Specifically Peter Parker the original. The others are ok too but Peter is the one I grew up with, so he’s the one to which I’m most attached.

Peter Parker’s life—in a proper adaptation—always is full of struggle between being Spider-Man and being Peter Parker.

Even after he comes out as Spider-Man during the proper Civil War story arc (nope, still not over what the MCU did to it especially when they gave my favorite Cap quote to a glorified extra and made it so IRON-MAN WAS IN THE RIGHT, ARE YOU KIDDING ME) Peter’s life is still a struggle, it’s just now a public one like the Fantastic Four who, probably, are the only group close to a sort of BnHA/MHA style of heroics for their whole existence (even Tony had a secret identity for a while in early Iron-Man. Look it up). And their lives were a struggle. Plus, I’m also pretty sure they didn’t get paid for their heroics? I’d have to do research to verify that because I’m not actually a Fantastic Four fan.

My point is, I’m just much more used to heroes who have to do heroics as a side job(more like a calling) but still have a day job (unless you’re Bruce Wayne but he’s got other stuff to balance that out).

The Illegals, though I don’t read their manga, are a bit more like traditional superheroes, but they also sort of don’t remind me of them because they live in a society where there are legit vs illegal heroes. Unlike all of the western canon superheroes who are, by legal definition, committing a crime by stopping crimes. It’s an aspect that Marvel for a long time had better than DC because the cops were treating some of the heroes like Spider-Man like the vigilantes they actually were.

I think that Horikoshi will explore stuff about this system later but I can’t help but feel that the system he created within his universe is ripe for exploitation by the wrong sort of people.

Look at the reviled purple one. His superpower is actually excellent. His spheres can easily contain a criminal until they need to be processed and if he’s paired up with someone like Sero, their combo as a capture team is amplified. Stick some of the spheres onto a strip of Sero’s tape and it’s an instant sticky bola.

If his life had progressed without being an ancillary background character who keeps being shoved into shit to keep him in the story artificially by authorial bias, Mineta would have graduated and become a hero and would have been doing it for all the wrong reasons and (if he kept his nose clean of scandals) been able to live a decent life while also using his position to be a total piece of garbage.

See Captain Celebrity from Illegals for the adult version of this motivation taken to its extreme.

People rag on Endeavor for being a hero for the wrong reasons, but actually, he still does do a lot of good even if he’s a flaming jerk and he’s still popular enough to be the eternal number 2 prior to All Might’s retirement.

Then there’s Mount Lady who swooped in and sniped Kamui Woods’s villain for the attention. And snake lady, Uwabumi, who seems more into being an idol of sorts than being a hero. The point is, the heroes of the BnHA/MHA universe aren’t actually incentivized to be heroes for justice or the general good. I personally blame the popularity aspect for a lot of the exploitation I see potentially within this system.

With that popularity aspect, the hero system has become tainted by people who are just in it to be idols and make money off of side hustles/brand deals/commercials/toys. There are enough in the system like Izuku—who genuinely wants to save people— that keep it from being overrun by people who are just in it for themselves, but as it is, the BnHA/MHA system is just so weird and ripe for twisting (which I as a fic writer & reader appreciate for the fertile ground it provides).

We flip back to the Western Canon and we have maybe a handful of characters at best I can point to that fit this “hero for popularity reasons” mould, with DC character Booster Gold the time-traveling con-man being the only one I can name off the top of my head.

This is because Western Canon heroes are, usually, in heroics/vigilantism for personal reasons that tend to be motivated by justice, vengeance, or some mix of the two.

Or, as quoted to death in most every adaptation of Spider-Man, Uncle Ben’s immortal words,

“With great power comes great responsibility.”

Plus, popularity and merchandizing is next-to-impossible for the Western canon hero because they actually have secret identities and don’t compete in highly publicized school festivals as minors that are said to be more popular than the Olympics where their real names are on display (sorry, the more you look at the UA Sports Festival, the less it makes any damn sense from a security standpoint).

So, a character could go into heroics within the western canon wanting to be popular but unless they want to be a public hero (which is technically illegal) they can never profit from said-heroics directly. Again, we have Booster Gold who tried it and the other superheroes of the DC universe despised him.

He’s had a moment where he realized being in it for fame and glory is not a good thing and has turned over a new leaf, I think, so again heroes in it for themselves are generally not a major thing in the Western canon universes.

Horikoshi has been using the system and its flaws for some great story moments and will likely continue to do so.

It still doesn’t stop me from looking at it like the beautiful piece of weirdness that it is. I may never stop thinking it’s weird but that’s ok.

Note 1: I know The Incredibles showed heroes being heroes without it being vigilantism but they were also employed/protected by the government and still had to maintain secret identities and when told to stop by the government, did. That, in and of itself, was explored by the movie to being a bit of an issue somewhat. 2 did an ok job of also exploring it but neither played the angle as well as they could have.

Note 2: Sky High’s heroes might have a hero school but they still have secret identities and day jobs.

#bnha #mha #rambling #marvel #dc #I do mention sky high and incredibles but it's at the very end and not a lot

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lovelylogans · 5 years ago

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love light gleams

previous chapter | chapter three | next chapter

part of the wyliwf verse.

the sideshire files | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, complicated parental relationships, teenage emancipation, emotional abuse, mentions of being disowned, mentions of transphobia and homophobia, classism, mentions of past underage drinking, crying, religious content (church, going to confession), remus cameo, mentions of choking/killing someone, something similar to the canon “have you thought about killing your brother?” monologue, please let me know if i’ve missed anything!

pairings: gen

words: 57,686

"patton,” meredith says warmly, “and logan, too! come in, come in, let’s get you both out of the cold.”

“hi,” patton says, and shuffles into the diner. “um—sorry i’m late, but, you know. babies.”

“oh, they’ll need something right at the moment that’s most inconvenient, won’t they?” meredith says. “and no worries, the time’s really more a suggestion anyway—most of the rest of the kids aren’t here, but let me introduce you to my son, wyatt—”

mark, who’s sitting at the counter, looks like the man at the counter copy-pasted, except mark’s aged about twenty more years and is a bit softer around the belly. wyatt sets aside his fork and turns to more fully face him—the only difference, other than age, are the perfectly circular glasses that wyatt’s wearing, making his brown eyes overly large, like he’s looking through two magnifying glasses.

“hi,” patton says. “i’m patton, this is logan.”

“hello, patton,” he says, and, equally seriously, “hello, logan. may i hold him?”

“oh! sure,” patton says and passes him over.

wyatt holds logan a little far away from his body, surveying him. logan surveys him back. wyatt tilts his head for a moment.

“he’ll suffice,” wyatt says decisively, hands logan back, and turns back to his breakfast.

“um,” patton says, juggling logan in his arms so that he’s comfortable. “thanks, i think?”

“you’re quite welcome,” wyatt says. he continues to eat his eggs.

“hey, patton,” virgil says. “merry christmas eve.”

“merry christmas eve,” patton says.

“can i get you anything?”

patton chews at his lip, and says, “hot cocoa/coffee?”

“you know the whole spiel, i’ll spare you,” virgil says.

“it’s a christmas miracle,” patton says.

“yeah, yeah,” virgil mutters, and pours him a mug.

“thanks,” patton says, accepting it. “is there a plan for the day?”

“cook a lot,” virgil says vaguely, “which we’ll eat throughout the day. um, christmas cookies, at some point.”

“oh, sugar, before i forget, you should bring in the movies from the car, so we can start the marathon,” meredith says.

“after breakfast?” wyatt says.

meredith pauses, sighs, and says, “all right, after breakfast.”

mark says, “patton, would you like some pancakes? i’m thinking of making some and only meredith’s taken me up on it.”

“oh, i’ll eat anything,” patton says quickly. “pancakes sound great, thank you.”

“but, yeah,” virgil says and shrugs. “christmases are pretty relaxed, around here. we tend to work for half the day in the diner, but since the vast majority of my family are no longer child laborers—”

“hey,” meredith says, jokingly indignant.

“—it’s probably mostly going to be me, down here, but who knows,” virgil says. “maybe nostalgia will work in my favor, and i’ll get some unpaid laborers, and i will be shot when the revolution comes, rightfully destroyed under the hammer and sickle. anyway, we close after lunch so we can do a big dinner, we open one present of our choosing before bed. not much else goes on, for christmas eve.”

patton thinks of his past christmas eves, crammed with making appearances at holiday parties and going to church and sitting through teas and brunches and cocktail parties with business partners of his father’s, women in the same societies as his mother.

you know what? he can take a lazy day and good food and christmas movies. that isn’t strenuous at all. he shouldn’t miss the rush of small talk that felt more like an invasive interview than anything—he’d hated it then, why is he missing it now?

“it’s the first christmas eve without a house here, though,” meredith says, cutting in, “so i’m afraid you’ll have to suffer through our various experiments on how to make all of us fit into virgil’s apartment with some degree of comfort.”

“oh, hey, speaking of comfort,” virgil says, and digs out the baby carrier, which meredith picks up before patton can even try to adjust logan to reach for it himself.

“thanks,” patton says, and carefully settles logan into the carrier. logan babbles his thanks, and patton digs around for the new pacifier he’s just gotten him, one of logan’s admittedly few christmas gifts—logan’s old one met a bit of a dismal end in the inn’s garbage disposal—and pops it into logan’s mouth.

for the first time since coming to sideshire, patton’s facing two days off work, and responsibilities, other than logan. it’s probably a good thing that he’s got built-in plans, because if he didn’t, he’d be sleeping for two straight days, only waking up for logan’s crying and maybe food, like, a hastily made peanut-butter-and-jelly or just whatever bag of junk food’s cheapest and closest.

and now, he’s got a freshly-made stack of pancakes (from scratch, no less) and people to fawn over his baby and, apparently, christmas movies to watch.

oh, huh. he hadn’t even thought about it just now—when was the last time he’d watched tv? when was the last time he’d lounged on the couch, and snacked on food, and watched tv? certainly not since logan was born. probably not even before that—patton had spent a lot of time in his room, during his pregnancy. it felt like whenever he ventured out to sit in the living room all he got were disappointed looks and irritated snaps.

months, patton decides. it had been months. maybe even a year.

so, with that strange feeling sitting heavy on his chest, he digs into his pancakes with maybe a bit more aggressive fervor than he usually does.

“thank you, mr. danes, this is delicious,” patton says, by rote, after he eats one bite. he’s still going to be polite, even if he feels funny about thinking about what he’s lost—even little things, like tv.

losing bigger things, like his parents, potentially for forever, make him feel things a lot worse than funny.

but he’s not going to think about that today or tomorrow, he tells himself firmly. after christmas, he’ll have six days between christmas and the new year. he’ll think about it and make a decision then, even if the thought roils his stomach and makes the pancakes a little more difficult to swallow down than usual.

“mark, please,” mark says, looking pleased with himself.

“good luck with that,” virgil says dryly. “i think the only reason i’m not mr. danes is because you didn’t find out my last name until a couple weeks after we met.”

“it’s polite.”

“it’s not a sin to call people by their first names,” virgil counters.

“it’s a sign of respect to call people by their title,” patton counters. “you know, for my elders.”

“ elders!” virgil squawks indignantly. “i’m not an elder, i’m twenty-three!”

“and i’m sixteen! therefore, you’re an elder.”

virgil mutters something along the lines of when you’re twenty-three i’m reminding you of this conversation, which is an absolutely mind-boggling concept. twenty-three. that had never sounded like a year patton would make it to. even seventeen seems practically insurmountable.

patton manages to say something along the lines of “yeah and when i’m twenty-three, you’ll still be my elder,” even while he’s thinking about it. twenty-three. logan would be… six, seven . walking, talking, reading, writing. in school. he’d know what foods he’d like and hate and have favorite subjects and least favorite subjects and if he preferred math to english or science to history and he’d have friends and maybe even a crush.

logan growing up— that’s what’s insurmountable. not this tiny little baby who, currently, seems to be estimating how far he can throw his pacifier and if papa will go and get it for him, pulling it up out of nowhere. patton would know if logan’s eyes, now that shade of brown that matches his, will have stuck around, if logan will favor him or christopher or both or maybe even neither. if he’ll be tall or short, athletic or academic. if he’ll grow up with or without grandparents.

logan can stay a baby for quite a while longer.

patton is saved from this particular line of thinking when freddie arrives and immediately pounces onto wyatt’s back with a holler of delight, which wyatt tolerates with what patton’s starting to think is his typical placidity.

freddie then proceeds to pepper him with questions, hiking up the leg of her jeans to proudly display a massive bruise on her knee that her parents exclaim over.

“can you check it?” she asks, but wyatt’s already patiently taking her knee between both hands, adjusting his glasses.

“does it hurt very badly when i do this?” wyatt says, pressing his fingers to it lightly.

“no.”

“how about now?”

“other than it just being more pressure? no.”

wyatt looks at her over his glasses, unamused. “you’re just doing this to see if, in my medical opinion, this might possibly be the biggest bruise i’ve ever seen, aren’t you.”

freddie grins at him beatifically.

“a choreographer wanted to do a number where i never touch the ground and they just hurl me in the air the whole time, from person to person,” freddie says. “i’ve got tons.”

wyatt sighs. “i anticipate more demonstrations forthwith.”

“no showing off battle wounds in my diner!” virgil shouts from the kitchen.

freddie pouts.

“my apartment,” virgil says, emerging, “is right there. do your weird world-record-seeking stuff away from the food.”

“world record?” patton asks.

“it’s freddie’s not-so-secret ambition to do a world record, of some kind,” virgil says. “i’m not even sure if she cares what it is.”

“preferably something with acrobatics, but i’m flexible—“

“no physical puns!”

“you never let me have fun!” freddie sulks, but she is lowering her arms from where she’d been about to interlock them behind her back, to do something incredibly weird with her body because her bones seem like they’re made of rubber, patton’s guessing.

“do you need ice?” mark asks freddie, frowning at her in concern and passing a hand over her hair. “you’ve been icing and bandaging everything properly, right?”

“...yep,” freddie says.

“winifred,” wyatt says, handily polishing off his eggs, “i will offer you an escape from parental smothering by means of asking if you would like to help me carry in christmas movies from my car.”

“oh, thank god,” freddie says.

“my name is wyatt,” he says. patton isn’t fully sure if he’s kidding.

“i know, big guy,” freddie says fondly, and meredith rolls her eyes even as her children both make their getaways.

“what on earth are we going to do with that girl,” she comments to mark.

“she’s run away to the circus, dear,” mark says, “i don’t think there’s much else for us to do.”

a pause.

“i’m going to send her back with a care package of ice packs and ace bandages, though,” mark decides. “just to be safe. it never hurts to have them.”

meredith smiles and rubs his arm. “that’s a good plan.”

parenting, patton thinks. just to be safe seems like a pretty integral part of parenting, planning too. it’s good advice, even if they didn’t mean for it to be advice. the danes’ seem like a good example to follow.

logan bops at his pacifier hard enough that it falls out of his mouth and onto the counter, with a delighted babble at the demonstration of gravity.

he guesses he’s got a while to go before he has to worry about all that, though.

patton has never seen the diner so crowded.

he and annabelle have managed to lay claim to one of the tiny tables in the corner—well, “lay claim,” they were there before any of these people—and patton watches.

they were going to watch a movie, but after all the siblings got there meredith ended up helping out a waitress who looked ready to tip over under the weight of all the plates she’d been carrying, and then one thing led to another, and now patton and annabelle were watching the danes family at work, like none of them had ever left.

meredith and freddie are a rapid-fire chatty team at the counter, with frequent gales of laughter from their customers.

essie and wyatt flit around the diner, taking orders and making well-timed quips (essie) or observations (wyatt.) wyatt doesn’t even need a pen—he just remembers everyone’s orders, down to the condiments.

silas, who is apparently much stronger than he looks, is toting the weight of two fully-loaded trays at any given time for the elder two siblings.

virgil and mark occasionally emerge from the kitchen, but patton can hear sizzling and knives chopping and the smell speaks for itself—spices and sugar and so much good food that patton’s considering—

“brunch?” annabelle asks.

“oh, thank god,” patton says, “it smells so good in here, i was getting hungry again.”

“do you wanna each get something and split it?” annabelle says. “just so we have some options.”

“that sounds great,” patton says. “um, is there any food you don’t want to get? like, allergies, personal preferences, that kind of thing? that seems like the easiest place to start.”

he and annabelle slowly whittle down the menu—it turns out annabelle’s very open to just about every food option—and annabelle waves enthusiastically to essie, who perks up and prances over to their table.

“hey,” she says brightly.

“hey,” annabelle says, smiling, and accepts the kiss that essie presses to her cheek.

“you guys doing okay?” essie asks, sticking her pen into the knot of brown hair piled on top of her head. “i kind of got sucked back in, sorry.”

“i’ve got patton to keep me company, we’re okay,” annabelle says, smiling.

“oh, right, good,” essie says. “patton, this exact thing happened last year and i felt so bad, annabelle was just sitting alone in a corner for half the day, but—“

“hey, it’s cool,” annabelle says. “i had a book to read.”

essie frowns. “still—”

“you’re spending time with your family,” annabelle says. “go fetch us some french toast and waffles and caffeine, and i’ll consider forgiving you.”

she’s clearly joking, and essie smiles, relieved.

“love you,” essie says.

“i love you too, babe,” annabelle says, and essie’s smile widens before she practically floats back to the counter to turn in their order.

“how long have you two been together?” patton asks annabelle.

“oh, years,” annabelle says. “seven or eight, give or take.”

“wow,” patton says softly.

“yeah,” annabelle says, and a goofy kind of grin spreads across her face. “she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, i can handle a morning watching her have fun with her family, y’know? it makes her happy. plus, i’d be useless doing anything with... that.”

“me, too,” patton says.

“and, i mean, now you’re here,” annabelle says. “so i’ve got someone to chat with, which is good, because i forgot to pack a book this year.”

patton laughs, mostly to be polite, and says, “i guess that is good, yeah. um, so, how did you and essie meet?”

“college,” annabelle says. “we were roommates, and then, well. one thing led to another. best random assignment i could have gotten.”

“that’s really awesome,” patton says sincerely, and that sets annabelle off on a “I Love My Fiancée” tangent which patton is really happy to listen to. essie is, according to annabelle, the sweetest, most thoughtful, caring, wonderful person that she’s ever met, and she’s so excited to spend the rest of her life with her, and she can only hope that she will stack up so that she’ll be able to deserve her, and when essie is approaching to drop off their food, she’s blushing, so she must have overheard, and annabelle grins.

“you really don’t need to be so shy,” annabelle quips, and essie blushes a little more.

“well, you don’t have to be so loudly happy about it,” essie mumbles.

“of course i’m going to be happy about you, why wouldn’t i be happy about you?” annabelle counters. “you’re going to be my wife.”

essie beams at the very idea, and, with another kiss on the cheek, she floats back toward the counter, where freddie clearly begins teasing her, complete with heart-clutching and dramatic fake swooning.

“so,” annabelle says, after patton takes a forkful of french toast, “what’s your story? virgil hasn’t really told any of us much.”

patton slows his chewing as much as he can, trying to formulate an answer. well, see, i got pregnant and ran away from home and now i’m torn between breaking my parents’ hearts or mine, depending on the choice i make?

“well,” patton begins cautiously. “i’m, um, it’s—well, i, um. it’s.”

“complicated?” annabelle asks. “i mean, it’s—y’know. me too.”

patton blinks.

“i’m from texas,” annabelle elaborates. “small-town texas. um. you can probably fill in the stereotypes from there. i fully cut off contact with my parents about four years ago.”

“oh,” patton says, and it’s like the word is punched out of him. “i—i’m really sorry.”

annabelle shrugs. “it is what it is,” she says. “anyway. the danes’ have been great. i’ve been coming to holidays with them since i graduated college and, you know. came out to my parents.”

patton chews his lip, and admits, “mine’s not quite the same situation, but—but close.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

he isn’t sure if he should say more—he has a vague feeling he should probably elaborate, but the idea of having a breakdown in the diner again is. not his idea of a fun christmas eve morning.

“that’s rough, dude,” annabelle says. “um, esther’s the emotionally capable one, so, sorry, but. you want some waffles?”

patton snorts.

“yeah,” he says. “okay, sure. i’ll have some waffles.”

⁂

"okay, so, you wanna pick, lo?” patton says to logan, holding up the cookie cutters in front of logan, but far enough away that he won’t grab at it. “stars or angels.”

logan considers his options. then, making a cooing noise, he very clearly reaches for the shiny silver star cookie-cutter.

“good choice!” patton cheers, and leans in to kiss logan on the forehead. “stars it is. it’s a shame you don’t have teeth to eat these with.”

he puts his finger in logan’s hand, so he has something to grab at, and sets the cookie cutter out of sight. logan then proceeds to drag patton’s finger toward his mouth, just to chew at it. as patton expected.

“oh, that’s a good idea,” meredith says, and then holds up a christmas tree and a reindeer cookie cutter in logan’s line of sight. with his free hand that isn’t currently holding patton’s finger to his mouth, he reaches for the tree.

and so begins a parade of people consulting the baby on cookie shape choices. granted, sometimes logan doesn’t always make a choice—at silas, logan makes a disdainful noise and starts chewing on patton’s finger with even more fervor, seeming to glower at him—but he does reach for quite a few choices, with no pattern that patton can decipher.

at one point, he gets a bit frustrated that he can’t hold any of the things that are being held in front of him, so virgil digs up two blunt, plastic cookie cutters, which means patton is free to wash his hands as logan starts mouthing at a snowflake-shaped cookie cutter, the mitten-shaped one cast aside.

now that the lunch rush is done, the diner’s officially closed for christmas eve and christmas, which means that it’s time for the danes’ to start making christmas cookies. they’re like a well-oiled machine—there’s tons of home-made sugar cookie and gingerbread dough, with essie and freddie making frosting together, freddie occasionally flicking dyed frosting toward her siblings, and essie would only sometimes catch her wrist with a kind of scolding laugh.

virgil, with a streak of purple across his cheek and a clump in his hair, helps patton and annabelle figure out how to best utilize the dough they have, so that they’ll have maximum cookie and minimum scraps.

all the while, christmas music plays, filling up any noise that isn’t taken over by conversations amongst the danes’. and there are conversations. listen, patton’s used to a lot of conversations echoing around a room, but he’s used to people in his parents’ world with their quiet, politely pitched voices, so that their gossip and snide commentary wouldn’t carry to their targets.

the danes’ have no such concerns.

their loud, booming laughs and indignant squawks and clamorous chatter and roaring responses and impassioned, ranting interruptions could maybe be heard from outside, let alone within the same room. it’s cacophonous, rowdy chaos.

any unwritten, strict rules of conversation that patton’s been preached to have been cheerfully thrown out the window. he can jump from conversation to conversation as he pleases, and no one seems to mind that he does because everyone’s doing the same thing. he can join mark and meredith’s debate over what constitutes a good christmas cookie, then chime in on his opinion on a book that he, annabelle, and wyatt have all read, and back up virgil when freddie pokes fun at him.

even virgil and silas, whose argument patton remembers vividly, are bumping elbows, and silas tousles virgil’s hair as he traps him under his arm, but it’s less like a dangerous, harmful thing and more like sibling squabbling, especially considering freddie joins right in by leaping on silas and yelling “YOUNGEST SIBLINGS ALLIANCE!” and essie trying to yank her off while proclaiming about the twinly treaty, while wyatt watches calmly from the sidelines and mark and meredith break them up with the weary, well-meaning tones of parents who have done this a million times before.

patton’s never seen anything so different; he’s an only child, from such a different world, and chris, his closest friend, is an only child, too. siblings are so strange. there are no manners. there aren’t any lingering hurt feelings. it’s almost like family time out of a movie, except it’s so much more chaotic and messy.

patton loves it.

as the cookies bake, the entire family works together to start decorating the tree, placed proudly in the center of the diner. none of the matchy-matchy, expensive, fancy ornaments that patton was never allowed to touch. cardboard boxes full of past childhood ornaments made during school, which erupt into various stories and reminiscing about the sideshire schoolteachers, cheesy souvenir ornaments from the various travels of every danes, including some new ones that mean lots of questions about what they’d been doing there, a popcorn-and-cranberry garland that essie, annabelle, and silas are still making even as wyatt drapes it round and round the tree.

somehow, the whole gaudy thing works; glinting with glittery ornaments and two strands of lights, it’s visible from the outside, when patton obligingly steps out to check and see. he helps everyone stack their presents under the tree—it turns out, the danes' have some color-coding going for their gifts. gold wrapping paper means they're presents for mrs. danes, silver for mr. danes, green for wyatt, red for essie, pink for annabelle, black for silas, yellow for freddie, purple for virgil. so patton ends up kind of organizing the presents so it's like a color wheel around the tree; everyone's presents, all together so they can just go to their color instead of hunt every present ringing the tree.

even as disorganized as they seem, it’s clear that the danes’ are a well-oiled machine, because by the time everyone decrees the tree satisfactory the cookies are cooled enough to decorate.

“i’ve never actually decorated cookies like this before,” patton says, as virgil passes him a piping bag full of icing—they’re splitting up all the icing into tiny bowls and piping bags, so everyone’s got their own little icing station. everyone's already wearing an old meredith's branded apron, from before virgil took over the diner.

“what, with a piping bag?” virgil asks. "it's pretty easy, once you get the hang of it, you can practice on some of that wax paper if you want—"

"no, i mean," patton says, "we usually order christmas cookies to send to people. like, caterers or bakeries usually take care of it. i've never actually gotten to make my own christmas cookies."

there is dead silence around the prepping station in the diner's kitchen. then:

" what," freddie breathes out, disbelievingly. "never? never ever?!"

"never ever," patton agrees. "i mean, maybe when i was really tiny, but—"

"you've never even made a ginger you?" essie says, incredulous. "or—a gingerbread house? not even one of the ones that come in kits?"

patton briefly imagines his mom's reaction if he brought in some cheap, pre-made gingerbread house to assemble. to make a mess, in her kitchen? even if she never actually used the kitchen, it’s still hers, and—

patton shakes his head, and there's an explosion of questions— have you never decorated a cookie EVER, do you even eat gingerbread, do you bake stuff usually—?

"well, i've baked stuff before, but," patton says, and swats at virgil when he snorts.

"you burned 'em, didn't you?"

patton huffs, but doesn't deny it. because, well. he did. it's really probably for the best that the professionals were in charge of these christmas cookies, because he definitely would have messed them up somehow.

"what do you eat on christmas?" silas demands.

"um," patton says, scratching at his temple, "whatever catering that people have got, on christmas eve, and my parents usually have a party on christmas that has these amazing apple tarts, i swear they're the best part of christmas—"

"well, at least there's some kind of traditional dessert," meredith says.

"not all families are so food-centric, dear," mark says.

"well, i know, but." meredith says. " still. no christmas cookies, ever?"

"well, that does it, then," freddie says decisively. "you get first pick."

there's a rush of agreement from everyone—well, silas is silent, but he doesn't disagree—and patton tilts his head quizzically.

"get a dozen of these, whichever ones you want," virgil says, gesturing to the huge amount of cookies on the cooling rack.

"surely you're going to make a gingerbread self," wyatt says, and there's a burst of recommendations of what cookies he should get, pointing to the best specimens of each cookie shape, and patton just kind of ends up going for a little bit of everything—stars, trees, a reindeer, an angel, an ornament, a snowman, a bell, and yes, a gingerbread man—and stares, bemused, at the tools virgil sets in front of him.

"um," patton says, and virgil laughs—not in a mean way, but still enough to make patton flush a little.

"okay," he says. "so, when you hold a piping bag, there are a couple grips you can go with, and it mostly depends on the kind of decoration you're doing... "

and so begins patton's lessons in frosting christmas cookies.

mark shows him how to best ensure that there aren't any air bubbles in the icing.

meredith tells him about how to mix together icing on wax paper to get the exact color he wants, like he's a painter or something.

wyatt, with his steady surgeon's hands, shows him how to ice beautiful, delicate-looking flowers.

essie shows him how to best press down sprinkles without getting stray bits stuck where he doesn't want them.

annabelle, laughingly, demonstrates the best way to push his hair out of his eyes without accidentally smearing pastel blue frosting across his forehead.

freddie demonstrates how to throw cookies like ninja-style throwing stars, but that's less a decoration lesson and more of a way to directly target someone who teases her about her messy cookies.

even silas shows him how to use a toothpick to get even, straight lines.

and virgil helps him fix his mistakes, and helps him move things when his hands are too sticky to move anything without getting it messy too, and even helps break down a cookie so he can make a little gingerbread baby, for logan.

and even if patton's icing jobs look messy in comparison to mark's practiced work, or wyatt's even, steady lines, they fit right in with freddie's colorful, smudged ones, and annabelle's, which she mostly requests essie's help with.

"it's really more about the fun of the thing," meredith says, when she sees him looking between wyatt's and his own. "did you have fun?"

patton grins and nods, and she gives him a thumbs up.

"well then," she says decisively. "i mean, they're all going to have the same thing happen to them. and even if they're messy, i promise you they'll taste just as good. go on."

so patton picks up a star, the first one he'd iced—with shaky little blue swirls and silver glitter—and crunches into it.

it's just crisp enough on the outside and soft on the inside, with sugary, yummy icing, and, well. even if patton's icing might be a bit ugly, he can't deny that meredith's right.

so he picks up a blank star, and he starts icing again.

⁂

“logan,” patton says, around a mouthful of gingersnap cookie, “it seriously is a shame that you don’t have teeth to eat these.”

logan, who’s fixated on the television—virgil guesses all the colors and sounds must be super interesting, to a baby—doesn’t seem to care very much.

"these are the best christmas cookies i’ve ever had, ever,” patton says sincerely. “thank you.”

“you’ve said that a million times,” meredith says, amused. “you’re welcome.”

she passes him another as she speaks. honestly, virgil would kind of start interceding, but his mom has the same “must feed” gene that he does, except she doesn’t pay as much attention to things like nutritional value. he doesn’t blame her; patton’s wearing an old sweater that’s been handed down to him, and it's big enough that it makes him look pretty scrawny.

some danes’ (silas, mark, and wyatt) are in the kitchen, making an endless parade of appetizers and snacky-type things that are fighting for space on virgil's coffee table, shoved to the side of the room, whereas others (meredith, freddie, essie, and annabelle) are parked in virgil’s living room with him and patton to watch the collection of christmas movies wyatt had lugged in from his car.

currently, ralphie is fantasizing about going blind from soap poisoning as freddie mouths dramatically along with his parents’ wailing, she and virgil parked beside each other on the ground. freddie doesn’t move too much, though, because she’d loudly complained at essie until she’d started playing with her hair. so essie had obliged, one hand poking out from the blanket she's tangled under with annabelle, brushing her fingers absently through freddie’s hair.

his mom’s in an armchair, which leaves patton lying down on the loveseat so that logan can get some tummy time, heads turned so that they can watch tv. patton keeps absently running his hand up and down logan’s back—well, admittedly, there isn’t much to run his hand up and down, he’s a baby, and a somewhat small baby for his age, at that—and virgil can see logan’s eyes, reflecting the light of the tv.

virgil notices out of the corner of his eyes that he’s seeing less and less of patton’s eyes. they go half-lidded, then closing before occasionally opening, and then—

“patton,” he says softly, just as an experiment, and patton doesn’t so much as stir. it does, however, draw his mother’s attention.

“oh, poor thing’s all tuckered out, isn’t he?” his mom comments, in a suitable undertone.

“yeah, he’s been pretty strung-out lately,” virgil murmurs, and, hesitantly, gets to his feet, hunting for a blanket he’s got stashed somewhere. and then a little odd dance ensues; he puts the blanket over patton without covering logan up too much, and then, carefully, ever so carefully, he lifts logan from patton’s chest and secures him in his arms.

“i didn’t want him to fall,” he explains to his mom, as he tugs the blanket the rest of the way up, to cover patton.

“probably a smart choice,” his mom says. “i could take him, if—“

“no, that’s okay,” virgil says, looking down at logan as he adjusts his hold; logan seems to cuddle closer, and virgil stares as logan lets out a squeaky, strange little yawn.

“you’re sleepy too, huh?” he asks, and logan’s tongue pokes out, just a little, just enough that something in virgil’s heart feels like it’s swelling from the sheer adorableness of it.

so virgil settles on the ground in front of the loveseat, and keeps his hold on logan, watching as his eyes slide shut, too.

“strung out?” his mom asks, and virgil would shrug, if he wasn’t holding a baby that’s slowly falling asleep.

“logan’s got colic,” virgil explains in an undertone, “which we’ll probably hear, soon enough, and he’s been working a lot.” a beat, and then, “i think he’s having trouble sleeping too.”

honestly, virgil’s pretty relieved that he’s fallen asleep; the bags under his eyes have been growing deeper and deeper, and his requests for caffeine have started to slide from jokingly desperate to actually desperate.

his mother tsks and murmurs “poor thing” and virgil can practically see her plotting before his very eyes. you know what? not the worst thing in the world. patton could afford some motherly spoiling during his first christmas away from his family.

hadn’t that kind of been the intention when he’d asked patton and logan to join the family christmas, anyway?

and so his mother plots, and logan snoozes, and essie and annabelle snuggle, and freddie acts along, and patton sleeps.

and keeps sleeping.

the fact that danes’ and colicky logan keep quiet for as long as they do is a miracle. they ensue in furiously silent rock-paper-scissors matches to see whose movie of choice is played next, and when they do speak, it’s in whispers. and logan—honestly, virgil’s not sure if he’s ever been so quiet for such a long stretch of time in his whole life. he’s quiet during the grinch that stole christmas, and love actually, and it happened on fifth avenue, and he fusses a little during the santa clause, but it’s easily enough fixed. well. with his dad’s help.

but patton’s nap is starting to move into full day’s sleep by the time his dad is loading in home alone, and logan lets out a piteous wail, and patton starts awake, hand going to where logan was lying on his chest, and virgil quickly turns so that patton can see logan in his arms.

“oh, hey,” patton mumbles, reaches for logan, and gets to his feet. “hey, hey, hey, you feeling okay?”

“we changed him, earlier,” virgil says, and then patton seems to notice that the sun has set, and he startles again.

“i,” he says, and shakes himself. “sorry, virgil, i can’t remember where your bathroom is—?”

virgil points, and patton goes.

“after this one, i think it’ll be dinnertime,” his dad says thoughtfully.

“finally, i’m starving,” silas says. “did we have to delay it for so long?”

“don’t be mean, silas,” essie chides gently. “we’ve waited while you took naps.”

“yeah, when we were four,” silas says.

“silas matthew,” their father scolds wearily, and silas scowls, fixating his stare on the tv screen, effectively ignoring the rest of them. but he doesn’t shift away when essie nudges him, then puts a hand on his arm, as if to keep him on her left side, annabelle to her right.

well, essie’s always been able to get through to silas when none of them ever have. virgil guesses it’s the twin thing.

if silas stops being an asshole for one day, it’ll be a christmas miracle.

⁂

patton feels... fuzzy.

that’s the best way he knows how to put it, or, at least, it’s the best way he can come up with right now. he isn’t sure how long he’d slept—it had to have been hours—but such a huge amount of sleep at an unexpected time has patton feeling slow, and dazed, and stupid, but that that last bit isn’t too unusual.

the danes’ have kindly—what else is new, they’ve been nothing but kind—been politely quiet about how long it takes patton to catch up to their conversations, or understand their jokes, or tune in to their requests to pass coasters or if he wants a bite of the appetizers they’re snacking on as they wind down home alone.

patton’s claimed the floor. they’d tried to get him to stay on the loveseat, when he came back from feeding logan, but he’d refused. he’d monopolized it all day, and really, if he fell asleep again then patton would be kissing goodbye to any ragged semblance of a sleep schedule that he still had.

so patton’s on the floor, and mr. and mrs. danes have taken over the loveseat, with virgil beside him on the ground and annabelle in the armchair and wyatt examining freddie’s ankle flexibility, or something, on the couch, freddie peppering him with questions all the while.

essie and silas... huh. patton actually has no idea where essie and silas have got off to. last patton knew, essie had gone back to help silas make some adult-only drinks (”absolutely none for either of you!” meredith had said, clearly not aware of patton’s history with drinking adult drinks since he was about thirteen) about... well, half an hour ago, maybe, and they haven’t been back since.

it’s been easy to be distracted, though, because he’s pretty sure that mrs. danes’ favorite drink is apparently spiked eggnog, and she’s certainly had enough to show it, a pretty pink blush high in her pale cheeks. she’s leaning over, again, cooing softly at logan, who babbles gleefully and reaches for her understated, dully glinting jewelry.

“little hands,” she coos, poking him in the midst of his chubby little palms, and logan babbles, smiling, as she squishes her hands gently between her fingers.

“little feets! itty bitty baby feets!”

logan squeals as she squishes his feet much in the same way, kicking, and patton doesn’t even realize he’s beaming wide until meredith reaches over to gently squish his cheek between her fingers, too, in a move that’s so thoughtlessly, habitually maternal, so casual in its kindness and affection, it strikes patton dumb.

affection’s been hard to come by, for a lot of his life. affection gives without expectation or later price to pay has been even rarer, maybe even nonexistent. even after his time in sideshire, where it seems to overflow, it overwhelms him.

“and,” she says, turning her attention back to the baby, “a... little... noooose!”

logan proceeds making delightful baby noises, and even tries for a few claps of his hands, the way patton’s been showing him, and patton leans in to gently clap above him again, just to show him.

“yay, logan!” he cheers quietly. “yay! can you say yay?”

he knows it’s too early to except logan to talk, but really, yay isn’t that complicated of a word. it’s just one syllable, and really, logan’s babbling in semi-recognizable syllables now anyway.

“how about a laugh?” patton prods. “you’re so close, can i get a laugh?”

logan’s gotten so close to laughing, and he’s on track to laugh, even if it’d be early it’s not unheard of early, so maybe this’ll do it. he’d love it if he heard his son’s first laugh tonight.

he’s such a smart baby, patton thinks, swelling with pride. really, logan might just be the smartest baby that’s ever lived. he’s pretty sure that every parent thinks that, but really, patton’s pretty sure that he’s the right one here.

patton, so overcome by paternal happiness, sweeps logan up into his arms and waltzes his way to his feet, spinning, as he presses noisy kisses into logan’s cheeks, mwahmwahmwahmwahmwah! as logan shrieks and squeals and patton spins, so full of love for him, and—

and in the midst of his spin, he looks at just the right time, he glimpses a clear shot to virgil’s balcony.

well, it’s really too teeny to be a full balcony, like his balcony back at his parents’ house, so it’s really only enough space for two-ish people and a near-indestructible potted fern. it’s more of a mezzanine, or whatever the mini-version of a balcony is called.

and there are two people clustered together. silas, his arms wrapped around his stomach, and even in the low light and the distance patton can see that his face is achingly vulnerable, as he bows his head, and essie, equally obviously, empathetic, reaches out her hands to put on his shoulders, and patton just barely sees a snatch of essie pulling her brother into a hug, holding him tight, and that’s it, that’s all patton sees before he continues twirling with his son.

he doesn’t look again. it’s what he’d want, if he was silas. besides, that seems like a pretty private family thing.

⁂

patton’s sure he’s never had such a well-fed, delicious christmas eve in his life, and he hasn’t even eaten dinner yet .

everything looks absolutely mouthwatering—it’s the traditional kind of christmas day meal that he usually has at his parents’, turkey and mashed potatoes and rolls and that kind of thing, except the danes version has clear deviations: green bean casserole, which he’s never had, he doesn’t think, sweet potato casserole with brown sugar and pecans on top, fresh cranberry sauce instead of canned, homemade gravy instead of store-bought, corn made off the cob instead of canned.

they’d dragged together some tables in the diner rather than attempt to engineer virgil’s tiny table to get nine people (plus a baby) to fit, so they're all seated beside the christmas tree. he’s got his back to the doorway leading to virgil’s apartment, so he’d be able to steal away and tend to logan faster without disturbing anyone, if logan needed it, and he probably would. he’d been so quiet when patton had napped, he’s sure that his schedule’s gotten pretty messed up, too. logan is parked in the carrier, on a booth table, clearly visible to everyone at the table.

well, really, it's mostly for patton's benefit, he's pretty sure, because once he looks away from his son to start paying attention to the conversations around him, he looks back right in time to see meredith looking at him knowingly.

patton smiles, sheepishly, and she nods, as if to say i get it. well, she's had five kids. she probably gets it more than he does. actually, she definitely gets it more than he does. patton's absolutely clueless.

but before either of them can say anything, mark gently taps a spoon against his plastic cup—it doesn't provide as clear a ting-ting-ting as the crystal-cut glasses his parents would use—and everyone quiets down.

mark lifts his cup.

"another year gone," he says. "it's been wonderful to see you all in town again. now that we're all getting older, it hits me each and every year how precious this time is. of course, i'm proud of you— all of you—are going out there and making your own life, but i can't help but think about how bittersweet it is that family time is getting fewer and far between."

"aw, dad," freddie mumbles.

" but, " mark continues. "again. i am very proud. of all of you."

he meets eyes with everyone at the table, and, after he's inclined his head ever so slightly at patton, patton stares down at his empty plate.

not you, he scolds himself. of course he's not proud of you, he's barely known you for six days and honestly, what have you done to make anyone proud of you?

it doesn't stop the rebellious little flare of warmth that he feels, though.

"the past few days have been wonderful. i have cherished this time together. i love being your dad—" annabelle looks choked up—"whether you're with me or if you're out making your own life. so," he says, and lifts a glass. "i'll keep the sappy stuff short, as we have this fantastic meal laid out before us. so. merry christmas and a happy new year, everyone."

"merry christmas," everyone rumbles, lifting their glass, and patton belatedly does so too. mark lifts up the platter of cut turkey, and meredith helps herself, before doing the same for him, and the passing of food begins.

patton's plate just about overflows.

"you know you can get seconds," virgil says to him an undertone, amused, and patton flushes as he attempts to stack his rolls back from where they've toppled off his plate.

"everything looks so good," he says defensively.

"again," virgil says, who really has no room to talk, his food's about to spill over the edges of his plate too, "seconds."

patton decides to do the mature thing: he sticks out his tongue at virgil, shoves one of his rolls into his mouth practically whole, and then tries not to choke on his overlarge mouthful.

virgil stifles his laughter into his glass of wine.

patton's right to have so much on his plate, because everything is amazing. patton's world full of fiddly food, more about the aesthetic and the finery than the actual taste, would have never dreamed of having food like this, but honestly, everyone might have been a bit more cheerful if they'd stooped to eating food that was prepared in a diner.

if he'd had these warm, fluffy dinner rolls. if he'd had the fragrant, fruity, frankly yummy fresh cranberry sauce he gets to smear over his rolls. if he'd had these buttery, yummy mashed potatoes with a pool of gravy that he can soak up with his bread. if he'd had the opportunity to try green bean casserole with the crumbly little french onion bits on top. if he'd had sweet potato casserole, which patton goes back for seconds before he's even finished his first serving. if he'd had this moist, good turkey, rather than the tradition of his father having first carve and then it being ferried away for the servants to do the actual carving.

if he'd had people who, even as they gently teased him about taking more food, loaded more on his plate when he was looking away, if he'd had people who were earnest about wanting to know what he'd thought, if he'd had people who were as welcoming of him being the way he is, if he'd had people who were less critical and more accepting, then maybe he would...

patton firmly redirects his thoughts. i'm deciding after christmas. after christmas. pay attention to what's happening now.

and, in what patton's starting to think is typical of danes style, there's a lot to pay attention to; granted, there aren't a ton of conversations happening because of the spectacular, delicious food, but there are still a couple peppering the table that jump freely from topic to topic. there's also a lot of wordless gestures for certain foods (the rolls make quite a few rotations around the table) and salt and pepper and so on, and every once in a while someone will get up to refill their drink and will be met with a flurry of requests, but for the most part, it's... quiet. easy.

warm, patton thinks. it's warm. not just temperature-wise—it is nice and toasty in the diner—but it's warm in the sense of how the danes' interact with each other. there are a lot of smiles and compliments on the food and conversation, and... and at this point on a typical holiday, patton's shoulders would be tensed up, waiting for some kind of comment, except he's never made it this far into the holiday without that kind of comment and stop stop stop.

there is one thing, without fail, that makes patton feel better. so patton gets to his feet and shuffles over to check on logan, who looks close to falling asleep, pacifier solidly in his mouth, and patton reaches out to run a thumb gently down his cheek.

"you okay?" he asks him softly, and logan blinks at him slowly once, twice, and patton feels the corner of his lip quirk up.

"yeah, you're okay," he says, in the same soft tone, relieved. and you will be okay, i promise. no matter what happens, i'll make sure you're okay.

"is he good?" comes from behind him, making patton jump. he turns back to virgil, who's looking at him quizzically, still seated at the table.

"yeah, he's good," patton says, and smiles wryly at him. "i mean, no telling how long it'll last, but—"

"yeah, he's good," virgil says, and cocks his head. "he looks ready to fall asleep, doesn't he?"

"yeah," patton says, and takes a breath. he'd been right, seeing logan does make him feel better. "i should probably leave him to it."

"he'll need you, soon enough," virgil says, so patton goes and sits back down at his spot at the table.

it has calmed him down—it's like just taking a second with logan has provided the same effect of a whole, calming day at his parents', not just a few seconds.

so patton throws himself back into the conversation, and keeps glancing over at logan, who even offers him a wave or a noise every once in a while, and it feels... right. it just feels right .

#my post #text #the sideshire files #my fic #my fanfic #sanders sides #love light gleams

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deltaengineering · 5 years ago

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Summer Anime 2019 Part 1: no more intros

Araburu Kisetsu no Otome-domo yo. / O Maidens in your Savage Season

❓ There’s an outbreak of puberty in a high school literature club and things get really awkward really fast.

✅✅ This doesn’t pull any punches with the horny content and it’s hilarious.

✅ I like the characters as well, they seem to have a bit more to them than normal but they’re still likeable.

✅ Nice looking and well directed.

♎ Mari Okada’s trademark blunt writing is still there, though it works better here than it usually does. She really has gotten a lot better since she started writing more personal stuff instead of just vague supernatural seishun feels.

Dr. Stone

❓ A mysterious disaster turns everyone on earth into stone. Several millennia later some shounen characters are the first ones to awake and they do some caveman chemistry.

✅ The idea is pretty novel by Weekly Shounen Jump standards.

♎ I have to say that for a WSJ joint, the writing is fairly tolerable as well. It’s still dumb, but not insultingly so.

❌ But in the end, it’s still WSJ and you’re still just watching a bunch of terrible looking meatheads doing basic science on the level of a YouTube primer and shouting about how awesome that is using assorted catchphrases.

❌ And it’s on the same day as another shounen-ass shounen, to which it is inferior. More on that later.

Dumbbell Nan Kilo Moteru / How Heavy are the Dumbbells you Lift?

❓ Doga Kobo x bodybuilding

♎ This is possibly the least surprising anime of the season, because all you need to know is what the Japanese bodybuilding meme is and what Doga Kobo usually does. Well, there’s no loli this time at least.

✅ Not surprising + Doga Kobo = looks good

♎ It’s not exceedingly funny but it’s competent enough at comedic timing.But some one-note jokes (such as Akemi being thirsty for muscle) get old.

✅ Doesn’t rock my socks off but it’s alright for the time being. Pretty competent and with room for improvement with more characters.

Enen no Shouboutai / Fire Force

❓ A boy with a hero complex becomes a firefighter. Since this is a shounen universe by the author of Soul Eater, this is rather literal: Get ready to punch fire demons.

✅ You ready for some DUMB ANIME SHIT? Because this is a lot of that, in a good way. In particular is gets the tone right and is neither too clowny nor too grim. Mostly.

✅✅ Looks amazing. The production is top notch and the fire is especially impressive - it better be, because there’s a lot of it. The design is also good.

❌ Shounen writing rears its ugly head again. I don’t expect subtlety, but a dozen flashbacks to Shinra’s not-very-complicated backstory plus his incessant insistence on being A HERO are not a good sign at all. At least this time the blah is limited to the thematic core instead of everything.

✅ I was entertained for now, but I’ll have to see if the good production values can keep it up and make up for the simplistic core in the long run.

Granbelm

❓ Average girl becomes magical, summons a mecha and gets involved in a magical mecha fighting ring.

✅ This looks pretty neat, seeing as it is made by the Re:Zero team.

✅ Since it’s an original, there is much less LN jank in the writing though.

♎ Still feels mostly like a mashup of very generic anime tropes - reminiscent of Mai-Hime, of all things. It might go somewhere, but might just as easily not.

♎ In particular, it might start copying Re:Zero’s derpier aspects. It already has a fondness for the ragefaces.

✅ Since it’s not in fact isekai, it is allowed to throw shade on isekai.

Joshikousei no Mudazukai / Wasteful Days of Highschool Girls

❓ Some highschool girls chat about boys and whatnot.

♎ There really isn’t much to say about it, to be honest. The characters are okay but very archetypal, it looks average, and the humor is neither amusing nor particularly annoying. It seems to have a severe lack of personality - especially compared to Maidens, which is this show with the safety off.

❌ It is, however, just far too long. These kind of mild 4koma antics wear out their welcome at full length and without anything else it becomes tedious. All the segments feel disjointed and random anyway, so there’s really no upside to yawning through 24 minutes of it.

Kanata no Astra / Astra Lost in Space

❓ Several anime characters get lost during summer camp on a distant planet and have to find their way home in an FTL spaceship they stumble across.

♎ Speaking of archetypal characters - you couldn’t put together a more anime cast together if you were making a parody. You got your spiky-haired protagonist, dim genki girl, big boobed shy fujoshi, sparkling ikemen, brooding rival, androgynous twink, glasses wearing supergenius, a tsundere and a loli. They work very hard to establish this too.

✅ Apart from this ridiculous assortment of memes, Astra leaves a solid impression. The scifi universe isn’t completely nonsensical, and the concept has potential.

✅ It’s well put together too, with good direction and high production values.

❌ The only real negative is that Astra can’t shut up about its protagonist’s backstory. There were about as many repetitive flashbacks in this episode as in the first episode of Fire Force, and it’s only not as bad because Astra’s was double length. If this remains persistent, it may be more annoying than it’s worth.

Katsute Kami Datta Kemono-tachi e / to the Abandoned Sacred Beasts

❓ In a grimderp version of the American Civil War, nobody stops to think that turning people into murderous animal hybrids might not be a good idea and might leave some grudges after the war is over.

♎ Looks average at best. If it’s trying to be Fullmetal Alchemist, I have some bad news for everyone involved.

❌ This definitely can’t be taken seriously, because it’s so contrived and on top of it the tone is all over the place. It can turn from graphic massacres to funny hijinks to inhumane experiments on a dime. To work as intended, it would need a far more delicate hand on all levels.

♎ That said, by the end of it, when there’s a pileup of tragic betrayals and one CAIN MADHOUSE turns out to be a moustache-twirling villain with a cackle to match, it comes close to being the entertaining kind of schlock.

♎ Since this was only the setup, it might be worth it to find out what the actual plot is like going forward.

The Case Files of Lord El-Melloi II: Rail Zeppelin ~grace note~

❓After getting punked in the fourth Heaven’s Feel, Waver decides he wants to try his luck in the viper’s nest that is the Clock Tower (if you did not understand any of that, this show is not for you)

✅ Fate has the moneybags and moneybags make shit look good

❌ I would like to watch a dark comedy about the backstabbing and incompetence at the Clock Tower - The Death of Kayneth, if you will. However, there are only the mildest traces of this in Case Files and it takes itself far too seriously.

❌ Since I bounced off this show the second time now (there was an episode 00 a few months ago) I don’t know if I want to give this show even more chances to prove to me it’s not heartachingly dull. It’s not really funny and there’s barely any action.

♎ That leaves character drama. I do like Waver but not enough to watch him mope about his bro Iskander being dead all day. The rest of the characters are a mixed bag and evidently not good enough to keep the show going on their own.

Maou-sama, Retry!

❓ 💩

💩💩 100% of all the isekai shit and nothing else. This is highly derivative and amateur even by the standards of highly derivative amateur isekai LNs.

💩💩 Looks like absolute garbage even at ep 1. I should be happy that no talent is going to waste here.

💩 The least offensive aspect is that our MMO-reborn haxlord picks up a tiny Ramrem for casual dadfeels. It still sucks and there’s another show this season that does this better.

Sounan desu ka / Are You Lost?

❓ Comedy short about girls stranded on a remote island learning basic survival skills.

❌ One girl is hypercompetent at survival, the others are not. Hope you think this is comedy gold cos it’s all we got.

❌ show bad

Tejina-senpai / Magical Sempai

❓ Girl with breasts is an enthusiastic amateur magician and is so bad at it that every attempt ends in some compromising position.

❌ We can only afford one joke per comedy short, okay? Do you think we’re made of money and/or talent?

❌ This one is quick on the draw with the segments at least, and crams in 6 instead of the usual 2-3. So it’s theoretically less tedious, but in practice it’s all a blur of unfunny either way.

❌ show bad

Uchi no Ko no Tame naraba, Ore wa Moshikashitara Maou mo Taoseru kamo Shirenai. / If It's For My Daughter, I'd Even Defeat A Demon Lord

❓ Handsome young adventurer finds an orphaned devil child in the forest. Dadfeels ensue.

✅ So this is the one that does Maou Retry’s core aspect better. And it does it quite well, in fact; it’s cute and wholesome.

✅ Basically it’s Sweetness and Lighting with JRPG questing instead of cooking. That show was alright.

❌ However, to make up for being good at something, know that it has absolutely nothing else. The setting is off-brand JRPG mush and not even attempting otherwise, the production values are pedestrian.

♎ Apparently this turns into a fantasy version of Usagi Drop down the line. I’m not one to mark it down for that now, but that doesn’t sound too great. However, it’s questionable if 1. the anime gets there 2. the anime goes there and 3. I watch the anime enough for the problem to even arise. It’s not that good.

#anime #impressions #summer2019 #Araburu Kisetsu no Otome-domo yo #Dr. Stone #Dumbbell Nan Kilo Moteru #Fire Force #granbelm #kanata no astra #to the Abandoned Sacred Beasts #The Case Files of Lord El-Melloi II #Maou-sama Retry #Sounan desu ka #magical sempai #Uchi no Ko no Tame naraba Ore wa Moshikashitara Maou mo Taoseru kamo Shirenai.#If It's For My Daughter I'd Even Defeat A Demon Lord #Joshikousei no Mudazukai #Enen no Shouboutai

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gffa · 5 years ago

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Name ten favourite characters from ten different things (books, tv, film, etc.) then tag ten people

Tagged by @thewillowbends. These lists are always hard, but that’s kind of the fun of them! And that’s why we cheat and sometimes have lots of ties because no you can’t make me choose. 1. Thor from Marvel’s Cinematic Universe - I am a sucker for a character who has their shit together but can still be human and face ridiculously traumatic experiences and come through them whole because they had a rock solid foundation to begin with. From being thrown out of Asgard, made mortal, and taking that chance to suck it up and make himself better that he did that himself to the loss of pretty much his entire family and most of his people and his sense of purpose, the thing I love about Thor is that he keeps getting back up. That kind of fortitude is even more appealing that the ridiculously hot lightning powers. 2. Tsukino Usagi from Sailor Moon - I always loved her in the ‘90s anime, but reading the manga skyrocketted her into this special untouchable place in my heart. The beginning of her journey is a girl who is so fragile that she would kill herself if she didn’t have the emotional support around her, who had to take step after step forward to find her inner strength, who wasn’t weak or terrible for her fragility, but instead her story was worth telling for it, that the point she started out as was just as valuable as the place she ended up, where she could be the one to stand up to save her friends and get them back herself, that journey was worth telling. I LOVE HER TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH. 3. Thranduil and Maedhros from Tolkien’s Legendarium - It was really hard to choose, because I love a lot of the characters (and I feel badly leaving Thingol and Maglor off the list and I will fight a bitch for Galadriel and Elrond and listen Glorfindel is pure joy and also the internet is too mean to Elwing and I kind of want alllll the Melkor and Manwe fic because sobs they’re brothers shut up you can’t make me not have feelings about that, but also trashbag Melkor/Sauron and--) but those are the two I usually wind up wanting to know their pov in a fic I’m reading or have them around when shit’s going down because I want to see what they’ll do or I just miss them the most when they’re not there. 4. Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi from Star Wars - If you asked me to pick between them, I don’t know that I could. Yeah, sure, I love Obi-Wan ridiculously, but if you give me five minutes, I’m pretty much always going to drift back to talking about Anakin and his issues instead. I’m not sure I can even boil them down into a nutshell about why I like them so much, they’re the kind of characters that I love so intensely and with such big, sweeping thoughts, that I’d have to write a whole essay. But my best attempt: Anakin’s being both dumbass and genius at the same time, being charming and magnetic while also being a bag of garbage at the same time, who had such good in him but was also an absolute monster, who I desperately want to be happy, but I also struggle to forgive him sometimes and that’s saying a lot for a fictional character, he’s brilliant enough to truly carry an entire Saga about him. And Obi-Wan is the bedrock of all goodness in that galaxy, he could be obnoxious at times and he didn’t always see Anakin clearly, but he always cared and he remained good and hopeful, he continued to serve the galaxy, no matter what it threw at him, and even forgave Anakin in the end, because he always rose above. That’s it, that’s my shit right there. 5. Inoue Orihime from Bleach - ORIHIME WAS MY GIRL FROM THE VERY BEGINNING, her unwavering kindness and care, her desire to be soft in a world (and, frankly, fandom) that wanted her to be hard and to fight everything, when she didn’t want to fight, she wanted to heal, she wanted to have fun and be weird, she wanted everyone to be happy, all of that made me love her. Her loopiness is an absolute delight, but what I loved so much about her is that Orihime had the powers/abilities to be quite possibly the most OG of the entire cast, she could reject reality itself, and she never once wanted to use it to beat anyone up or to destroy anything, she wanted to make friends with her fairies and she wanted to help people. That girl refused to let the world make her anything less than kind and caring and sweet. She was THE BEST. 6. Hara Akiha and Umeda Hokuto from Hanazakari no Kimitachi e/Hana-Kimi - Sometimes we all fall in love with those minor characters and they just fucking consume us. A lot of it came from that they were both hot, they were both hilarious, and so they were just really fun, but what really got me was that I genuinely loved everything Nakajo did with Umeda’s character. There weren’t a lot of gay characters in shoujo manga that weren’t complete comedic relief, where their sexuality was the joke. Yes, Umeda was often a humorous character (all of the cast was) but he firmly was completely uninterested in high school kids, he liked adult men, and his advice to Mizuki may have been crabby as hell, but it was genuine and good. His sexuality wasn’t the punchline of his character. Then there was Akiha, who was also comedic, but his bisexuality (another rare thing to find in manga!) had nothing to do with the humor of his character, all of it was in the way he chased after Umeda. He was a genuine suitor (and, reading the post-manga character interviews, apparently they got together, OMG MY HEART) and the kiss they shared was treated just as seriously as any straight kiss would have been. That meant a lot to me, even though I’d have loved the characters just because they were so interesting and Umeda’s struggle to get over the guy who never cared for him and to let himself be vulnerable with someone that he could actually care about, was so great. 7. Yuki Eiri from Gravitation - I can’t begrudge anyone for giving this show a lot of shit (and I definitely am going with anime!Yuki here, rather than manga!Yuki) or dismissing it as being god-awful, because it probably was pretty cringeworthy. But Yuki got under my skin because he was one of the first characters I resonated with where his depression was real and it was ugly. He could be cruel to people around him, he pushed them away, not just half-heartedly, but genuinely, and he couldn’t stand being vulnerable, because it touched on all the terrible places that had been damaged by what Kitazawa had done to him. And he couldn’t just be magically fixed by Tohma’s devotion or Shuuichi’s unwavering amounts of love poured into him. He couldn’t just be fixed with a hug or one good crying session. He was damaged and it was going to be a hell of a long hike back up to anything even a little bit normal. Especially back at that time, I felt like depression and trauma were never given any real weight, then along comes this ridiculous BL series that just refused to make Yuki anything less that genuinely damaged and it hit all these places in wee me that was struggling through my own depression that couldn’t just be cured with some hugs and people telling me they loved me.

8. Hashiba Touma from Yoroiden Samurai Troopers - I’m not sure I could even say why this character got under my skin the way he did, other than that there was definitely a group of us who were SUPER into the show and it was fun to make a playground for ourselves, and Touma just really got to me. The brilliant character who didn’t always know how to relate to others, but who cared very deeply about them, who gravitated to those who were better at social interaction than he was, who were better able to connect to people than he was, that he found this group where he really belonged, that just really touched wee me’s heart. 9. Tendou Souji from Kamen Rider Kabuto - THIS OBNOXIOUS HOT MESS I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. It was hard not to put Kagami on the list as well, because so much of what I love about Tendou is illustrated through his relationship with Kagami (whom I also love on his own), but I think I keep coming back to that I love his issues the most. He’s the best at everything and so it puts distance between him and everyone else, all the more so because he’s so obnoxious about it and doesn’t slow down for anyone else to catch up, but the thing is that there’s a very caring heart underneath all that. He loves his sisters, he loves Kagami, he even kind of tolerates the rest of their weird gang, and trying to find that difficult line of his superiority over the others versus that he wants them to catch up to him in his own way, all while being the most condescending dick ever, is absolute joy. 10. Relena Darlian from Gundam Wing - I had a difficult path to liking Relena, because so much of fandom boiled her down to either being a creepy stalker who got in the way of Heero/Duo or they only ever wrote her in romantic pairing stuff with Heero, neither of which really encouraged me to like her. But, as time went on and I rewatched the series a couple of times, I realized there’s so much more to her. She’s a character who has to walk an impossible line between both of the legacies that weigh on her, the birth family that she never knew but maybe she could help bring peace to the world by taking up that name, by trying to bring back the Sanq Kingdom that promoted absolute pacifism and peace. Yet, ultimately, for all that her relationship with Zechs is really important and she was the heir to that kingdom, she chose to be Relena Darlian. She choose to try to bring peace to the world by standing up on her own as a politician, not a figurehead queen of the world. The struggle to figure that out, who she wants to be and how she wants to achieve it, to go from a sheltered young girl at the start of the series to someone who has seen how terrible war is, is far more interesting than either of those first options for me! And I’ll tag @forcearama (and if I couldn’t put Obi-Wan as all ten entries, neither can you!) @belldreams @subskywalker @cacchieressa @bpdanakins @glompcat @writegowrite @fireflyfish @evaceratops @amarielah and anyone else who wants to do it that I’m not sure I feel quite like I’m able to try peer pressuring you into it. ♥ I love seeing these from anyone who wants to do them, I’m just never sure if I’m allowed to go HEY YOU DO THIS THING. orz

#i should have a personal tag around here somewhere

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bae-leth · 5 years ago

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I had a bunch more stuff I wanted to say about Faris and Natalia’s relationship in the Fraldarddyd family AU but I thought it would be easier on everyone to put all my thoughts in one submissions instead of sending a dozen asks this time. Also, lol, I can’t believe I keep coincidentally giving these characters the names of your relatives, what the heck???

Let’s just go over Faris first. He’s a friendly and social guy. He’s obsessed with the stars and can talk about them for hours if given the chance. He’s a smart guy and super politically savvy, perfectly at home in even the most cutthroat political climates. He’s known to be very mischievous and prone to pranks, though the less he likes you then the harsher his pranks can be. He and Natalia are the same age but he’s a couple months younger, which she loves to hold over him especially after he grows taller than her. He and Zain are pretty close despite Zain loving to give his little brother shit whenever possible. I see him being magically gifted, so I imagine him as a Warlock. I see him mainly taking after Claude in terms of looks (I don’t really have a spouse in mind for Claude in this AU so I’m leaving that part kinda vague).

Strengths – Reason, Authority; Weaknesses – Axe, Brawl, Heavy Armor; Budding Talent - Lance

Zain is two years older than Faris and basically anyone who meets him considers him a stern and serious no-nonsense kind of crown prince. This is how he’s like around most people. However he allows himself to relax and show off a much more playful, emotional, teasing side around people he trusts wholeheartedly (his immediate family and a small handful of friends). He resembles his brother in having the same eye color and skin tone, but Zain looks much more rugged and mature. Unlike Faris he is perfectly at home on the battlefield, being a renowned Sniper with plenty of victories to his name. He never became a Barbarossa like his dad cause he’s scared of heights. He enjoys the ocean a ton, so he’s always up for ocean voyages and will take any and every chance to explore coastlines.

Strengths - Bow, Axe, Authority; Weaknesses – Faith, Flying; Budding Talent - Riding

The whole engagement thing between Faris and Natalia is largely unofficial and both sides mainly just want their kids to become close to promote good relations between Fodlan and Almyra. Although things would really work out the best if the pair did become romantically involved but no one is really pushy about it. Especially since Faris and Natalia just do NOT like each other. Honestly the only thing stopping the first meeting between the royal children from being a complete disaster is that both Faris and Zain quickly become attached to Artemis (prince of stealing hearts without even trying). Faris and Artemis latch onto each other since they have so much in common (second princes, good at magic, similar weaknesses, bookworms, etc) while Zain ends up considering Artemis like another little brother while Artemis really look up to Zain (it’s thanks to Zain that Artemis’ budding talent is bows). Also Zain actually ends up being friendly with Natalia too (he likes her strong, honest personality and honestly he finds the disaster that is hers and Faris’ relationship hilarious, plus she thinks he’s super cool and likes sparring with him). So it’s literally just Natalia and Faris at odds with each other.

“If you like Artemis so much, why don’t you marry him instead?!” “Maybe I will!” “Fine!” “Fine!” “FINE!” “FINE!!!” *Zain and Artemis in the background, talking about their favorite desserts and not getting involved in their siblings’ fight*

“Claude I’m starting to doubt if this will work out. The two of them hate each other.” “Well Felix hated you plenty for a few years and look at you now. Adorable little lovebirds, a love story perfect for the bards to sing of!” “Listen here you little-” “Felix please.”

In order to try and help Natalia and Faris get along they’re both sent to visit each other’s homeland a bunch over the years. Occasionally the whole family goes but the rulers can’t keep running off all the time. So most of the time it’s Natalia (and Artemis because Natalia barricaded herself in her room until her dads agreed to let her take Artemis along “to see that stupid Faris’ face”) visiting Almyra for several weeks and then a little while later it’s Faris visiting Fodlan, particularly Faerghus, for several weeks (only bringing Zain when he’s in a particularly bad mood thanks to Natalia since Zain keeps making fun of him otherwise).

Faris is kinda sorta okay when he’s in Faerghus, even though it’s absurdly cold most of the time. Hell, every time he thinks he’s wearing enough the weather proves him wrong. Natalia keeps laughing at him when he has to dress up like a marshmallow in order to go out in Faerghus winters. Natalia is very brutal in snowball fights…RIP Faris. He definitely prefers to stay inside by the fireplace, though Natalia is insistent on dragging him outside. It usually ends in him spending the last few days of his stay sick in bed.

Natalia, like Dimitri, is dead in heat so every time she goes to Almyra she spends around a week just laying on her bed wearing as little as proper manners will allow. Faris alternates between “helping” by practicing his ice magic on her or otherwise relying on her need to do better than him to goad her into playing with him. Though he had to lay off on that after Natalia got heatstroke once.

Natalia considers it a personal insult that her beloved horse absolutely adores Faris when he’s usually very picky about who he allows near him (“Ares, how could you do this to me?!” *neighs* “Oh don’t give me that attitude young man!”)

Faris, in the meanwhile, is not pleased by how his retainers-in-the-making are absolutely smitten with Natalia (“Did you see her in yesterday’s spar with the new recruits? She could break my spine and I’d thank her.” “Please, sweet embrace of death, come for me.”)

Artemis and Zain start being regular pen pals as they compare archery notes, seek advice from one prince to another, talk about recent events in their homeland and in their lives, and complain about their siblings/commentate on whether or not they’ll get together.

“I don’t know, Zain, after that incident with the birds Sister said, and I quote, ‘The next time I see that scrawny piece of *ahem* garbage, he’s dead. Almyra will be down a prince and they’ll be all the better for it.’ So I’m saying no.” “I’d agree with you, especially since Faris has been disturbingly interested in researching dark magic after eating those ‘super special Faerghus delicacies’ Natalia brought last time. But for as social as he is my brother is normally never so obsessed with anyone, so I think we may have a romance for the ages on our hands, my friend!”

The two of them play PLENTY of stupid pranks on each other over the years. Sometimes they flat out got into physical fights with each other. The people of Fodlan and Almyra have long since gotten used to the sound of Faris and Natalia yelling at each other and then the sound of crashing and punching.

That being said, not everything was bad between them. That one time Natalia got heatstroke, Faris was genuinely apologetic and worried about her and kept her company while she was bedridden. Likewise Natalia does feel bad when she keeps getting Faris sick while trying to show off Faerghus to him and will read him adventure stories to pass the time. Also I love the idea you mentioned of Faris trying to help Natalia get over her low spice intolerance (to mixed results, Natalia’s just glad she no longer downs an entire pitcher of water on her own after eating Almyran food). One time when a Faerghus noble child made a snide remark about Faris being Almyran, Natalia tackled the brat to the ground.

Faris, holding a tissue to Natalia’s bloody nose: “I thought you didn’t like me.” Natalia, very obviously confused: “??? What does not liking you have to do with you being Almyran?” Faris: “Heh, I suppose you’re right for once.”

“Zain, I think I want to change my opinion. Sister and Faris may have more of a chance than I originally thought.” “What did I tell you, Artemis? Romance for the ages…”

As the years pass and Natalia and Faris both grow and mature and mellow out, the two of them start to consider each other friends. They speak more, debate more, discuss their interests more, and slowly start to enjoy spending time together. Eventually it gets to the point where the two of them joke around about their kinda sorta engagement to each other. Natalia singing the absolute worst love songs while Faris writes the cheesiest poetry and love letters imaginable. Calling each other cutesy pet names, those kind of shenanigans.

Honestly, they mostly do it just to fuck with poor Zain and Artemis, who didn’t ask for this bullshit but are stuck with it anyways.

“Artemis, I need you to kill me, I can’t tolerate them anymore.” “Come now, Zain, it’s not so bad! Hey, why don’t we go for a ride on Altena? That always calms me down!” “I cannot stress enough how much I would rather die than do that…” “What are you trying to say about my sweet Altena, huh?” “Would you stop taking it as an insult against your wyvern every time?!”

Natalia starts teaching Faris about fighting with lances. And Faris helps Natalia grow more used to handling politics.

Honestly, there was something special growing between them for quite some time after they started getting along better, but neither of them really recognized what it could be. But they kept getting closer and closer as time passed. At public events they stuck by each other’s side and often danced together. They were seen going off on rides together or just taking walks while talking.

Faris is the first one to recognize his feelings when he comes along to help Natalia out with a skirmish. The pair make a great team in battle, covering for each other’s weaknesses well. Faris, too exhausted after a large number of enemies surrounded him, is almost taken down from behind when Natalia saves him. His joke has a fair amount of relief and gratitude in it when he says “Thanks for the help, sweetheart!” But WOW when Natalia turns to him with the most dazzling smile on her face, looking like she practically glowing with the sun behind her, Faris feels like his heart stops. “Anytime, honey!” And Faris just keeps staring after her as she rushes off after another enemy.

Natalia was always pretty but Faris has never actually acknowledged how pretty until that moment. And his heart won’t stop racing, her smile and voice still in his head. And oh fuck, oh shit, he knows exactly what this is…

“Zain, you umm…you wouldn’t happen to know when the next visit to Fodlan is, would you?” “…Why do you ask, my dear little brother? :))))))” “…Are you going to tell Arty about this?” *Zain, pulling out a piece of parchment and quill* “What gives you that idea????”

Faris regrets everything when his parents and brother don’t let him live it down that he’s now realized he’s in love with Natalia. “Whatever happened to ‘I’d rather become a hermit and die alone and unloved on a barren mountain than ever marry her’ Faris? Seven-year-old you was soooo dramatic!” “Father, please.”

Things don’t change too significantly after Faris’ realization. But there are changes. He’s noticeably softer around Natalia, smiling gently around her or going along with her wishes more easily. Most of his pranks towards her tone down to being things that give her pleasant surprises. The most significant change comes from the love letters and poems purposefully written badly for jokes slowly becoming more sincere sounding and really sweet.

Natalia doesn’t know what to make of the changes. They’re odd but she’s more surprised by how much she enjoys it. She even reads Faris’ letters and poems over and over well into the night. A warm and peaceful feeling spreads through her every time she gets a new letter from Faris or he holds her closer than usual during a dance.

She doesn’t realize it’s love until sometime later when she visits Almyra. Faris is so bright and excited as he drags her outside in the dead of night because the skies are so clear that you can see way more stars than normal and it’s soooo beautiful. Faris happily explains the stories behind all the different constellations and laughs so happily recalling some of his favorite tales. Natalia stares and stares at him and thinks that she could watch him smile and laugh like that forever. At some point Faris starts holding her hands and pulls her close to him as he keeps pointing out constellations and telling her stories. And Natalia tries so hard to concentrate on his words but all she can focus on is his hands and how warm they are and so much bigger than hers and how she wants him to keep holding her and-Oh. Ooohhhh…Oh fuck…

“So, Sister, you enjoyed your last visit to Almyra a lot, didn’t you?” “Hmm? What gave that away, Artemis?” *Natalia, lying on her bed surrounded by all of Faris’ letters and poems to her, giggling to herself as she reads them* “…Just a hunch.”

“Felix, it seems Claude was right. He tells me Faris is rather obviously smitten. And it’s easy to tell Natalia is in love. While I’m sad at how quickly the children are growing up, it’s wonderful to see them so happy, isn’t it?” “Uh-huh yeah sure, do you think this blade is sharp enough or should I take it back to the blacksmith? I want it ready before the Almyrans come visit next month.” “…Why are you-?” “You know damn well why.” “Felix.”

“Well it seems you and I will get to call each other ‘brother’ soon enough, Artemis! Or well, hopefully soon enough. It depends on how long it takes our stubborn siblings to take those final steps.” “Agreed. But I’ve already thought of you as my brother for a long time now, Zain. We’ve known each other for so many years! Your one of my dearest friends and my brother in all but blood. :)” “…” “??? Zain, are you crying-?” “*sobs* NO, I’m not!”

#submission #anon #fraldarddyd family au #oooOOOOO IM IN LOVE WITH THIS..... IVE BEEN REREADING A LOT WHILE IT SSAT IN MY INBOX!!#my fave parts: ares betraying natalia (LMAO OMG I KINDA JUST. DIED)#zain and artemis' letters are fantastic and i love watching the Journey #and ofc natalia and faris' developing relationship bc guess who DIED whilst reding it!!!#by the end i had my head in my hands!!! they are so sweet..... i CARE THEM.....#and ofc dima and felix in the bg..... good dads. sword ready dad in felix's case #but good dads all the same #anyway pls understand that i adore this #so much WHEW #i am going to bed CONTENT tonight!!#ty so much anon i owe u my life...

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rhenal · 7 years ago

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Hello again

Wow, it’s been a year now since i last posted anything here. I’m still alive, if anyone is still here at all to care. Um. Last post I did was about the status of my mental health, so I guess a follow-up would be prudent, no?

So now it’s official. I have both Aspergers and ADHD. I thought it was just ADD, but no. The hyperactivity aspect is something I very much have. It’s just that it doesn’t manifest physically - it simply manifests mentally in that my mind is always everywhere at once - that my train of thought manifests more like a puppy on its first snow day than like an actual train.

I’ve been on antidepressants for 13 months now, but I’ve only really felt any real effect from them for the last month and a half as I finally got to change med type. The first type barely helped and gave me nightmares two nights out of three, but those things were small and irrelevant enough for me to it really bring it up until now. Because for all that time, I have been searching for and adjusting to ADHD meds as well, and you only want to sort through one set of side-effects at a time. Turns out I’m really sensitive to side effects, so finding the right type and dosage took a long time, and I’m not certain that the one I’m on now is the best choice still.

I’m still on full-time sick leave for burnout, since February 14th last year. Currently it will last until the end of August, then we’ll reevaluate from there. Hopefully I can start studying again by that point, if only at 50%.

Turns out, it takes a really long time to recover from a bout of burnout that has had five entire years of buildup.

So what am I doing now? Mostly just being useless. Restless but without the energy to do anything about it. I barely eat these days, and my sleep cycle is just completely nonexistent. See, in large part due to aforementioned double-whammy of Aspergers and ADHD, my capacity for self discipline is basically nil. With me being on sick leave, I have nothing that forces me to get up and do stuff. There is no reason other than my own health to get up in the morning.

Add to that the fact that both my current antidepressants and my ADHD meds lower my appetite. I do not get hungry anymore. I just get tremors in the late afternoon when I’ve forgotten to eat all day. I can go entire days where I am never ever hungry, and when I finally manage to make something to eat and force myself to just eat it dammit, I can barely get half the meal down.

My doctor has actually advised me to eat small snacks through the entire day to make up for it. You know, the thing that you’re usually heavily discouraged from doing? :’)

In conclusion, my daily life is kinda shit. I’m doing what I can to get better at it all, even going to group therapy every week, but it feels like a Sisyphean effort.

I’m too burnt out to study or work, but without study or work, I can’t really recover properly. It’s one real bastard of a catch 22.

I’d move back home, but that’s not really an option. Not now that the family’s got a much smaller apartment. I’d have to live on the couch, in a living room with no possible way of real privacy. And I’m an introvert. I am really fortunate to have a family as loving and supportive as I do, and I love them dearly - but I NEED my space. When I went there over the winter holidays, just those two and a half weeks I was there was enough to suck me completely dry of energy.

If anyone has any advice, I’d love to hear them. Because I need them desperately.

So well. That’s where I am now.

[garbling thought-vomit about social issues and the failings of tumblr as a community below. Probably best ignored.]

So, why’d I disappear from Tumblr? Should be obvious. The state of my mental health is bad enough without having to deal with the constant anxiety of dealing with this social network. The nonexistence of nuance and the total intolerance of anything even remotely problematic. And the idea that if you like anything that has any problematic aspects in it at all, that means YOU are problematic and are to be ashamed.

It’s actually a really hostile environment for creatives.

The pressure to be perfect and totally 100% inclusive at all times with not a nanometer’s space for human error or honest mistakes, the attitude that ‘if you’re not perfect 100% of the time always you are EVIL AND BAD AND SHALL BE SHUNNED FOREVERMORE’.

The attitude a lot of Tumblr seem to have that the only things you are ever allowed to write or otherwise portray are essentially self-portraits because if you haven’t personally experienced it you should never ever write it ever. Kinda makes it impossible to even try to do properly inclusive work for fear of getting even a single minute detail wrong. It’s actually really really fucking hostile and I hate hate hate it. Like, I keep seeing creators of all kinds - writers, artists, cartoonists, animators and game devs alike try their very hardest to make something as inclusive and culturally diverse as they can, only to be rewarded with heaps upon heaps of abuse from Tumblr users just because they weren’t 100% perfect in every single aspect, or that their efforts were seen as ‘virtue signaling’ and are only doing it to make themselves look good and that is false and sin and to be PUNISHED.

It’s like the reward for trying your best to make something that everyone can enjoy without feeling left out is only hate and vitriol.

(All the while creators who do not care about inclusivity at all get perhaps but a mere fraction of this abuse, I might add. It’s pretty fucking insane when you think about it.)

It’s suffocating.

And it’s total fucking bullshit.

People make mistakes.

People change.

And people can absolutely grow from those mistakes and be better.

But Tumblr as a community keeps fostering this attitude that if you have ever said or done anything even remotely wrong on any level, regardless of the context or how long ago it was or how much better you have grown to be since then, once an uninformed or unthinking statement - accidental or not - always a racist. Or homophobe. Or transphobe. Or ableist. Or any kind of -ist or -phobe imaginable.

I’ve been very fortunate to not really have had to endure any witch-hunt personally, but I saw them happen all the time. And it just. Well. I got really fucking tired of it, and it further worsened my mental health by quite a lot. I just cared too much that I couldn’t stop ranting about it in my head. Sometimes for days.

So I left.

Why am I back? Honestly, I have no idea. I guess I still have a lot of thoughts about things and I’ve been really isolated this last year, so I just need a place where I can put them.

I intend to go on a bit of a purge of the blogs I follow and start with a zero-tolerance policy for witch-hunting bullcrap and other drama.

See, I have a pretty simple, straightforward moral code. It’s often difficult to follow, due to the human brain working as it does with it’s shitty, garbage, garbage ‘us vs them’ mentality, but it is something I intend do always strive for.

No one should ever be judged for that which they can not control

Ever. That includes the entire spectrum of skintones, every single possible gender identity, sexuality, romantical affiliation, neuropsychiatric status - normal or otherwise, physical condition, place of birth, state of family or culture they grew up in. Or anything else I can think of.

No one picks the toolbox they’re born with. All that should ever matter to anyone is what they build with it.

Fuck jokes about skin colour - ANY skin colour - it’s tacky and only serves to further strengthen the idea that they somehow make people fundamentally different, and that idea can get set on fire and shot into the sea.

Yes, there are absolutely issues with the culture surrounding differences in levels of melatonin. White people like myself carry a lot of privilege in the west, and darker skinned people of all kinds absolutely do face a lot of unjust treatment in the world. No matter what country in the world you are in, that place’s “default” - how I detest that unfortunate consequence of the human brain functioning as it does - will always carry a strong privilege compared to those who do not fit that default. But it’s all cultural. There’s nothing inherent in looking any certain way that dictates a person’t being. It’s all the norms and values of the culture they were raised in - and cultures change. It’s slow. It’s difficult. But it is absolutely a worthwhile struggle, is it not?

And, maybe a reasonable path to changing a culture to be more inclusive is to maybe not constantly call attention to such differences? Because that only strengthens the idea that the trait pointed out is ‘other’ - not part of the ‘normal’.

And we want to widen the definition of normal to include all of us. Right? That’s pretty much this entire community’s mission statement, isn’t it?

I’m thinking that simply acting like a trait is normal, that it’s not something that’s even worth calling attention to, does a lot to normalise that trait. To help it be included within the definition of normal.

Maybe I’m wrong. But I don’t think I am.

And then there’s the whole thing with white guilt/cultural shame or pride or any somesuch. I have thoughts. Probably pretty controversial thoughts. So I’m preparing myself for pitchforks.

Feeling shame or guilt over whatever hand you drew in the grand lottery of genetical happenstance is just really fucking stupid. That much should be thoroughly established by now. But the thing is, so is feeling pride, for the same reason. You did fuck all to affect what you got. The deeds of your ancestors have nothing whatsoever to do with you.

You don’t get to choose your toolbox. You can only choose what to do with it.

It feels kind of weird to condemn cultural pride as a concept like this, but I do. I really honestly do. Because it’s dumb. Incredibly hard to drop, absolutely - most of us are fed with it since birth, after all - but it’s still dumb. I mean, what on earth did anyone do to earn the culture they grew up in? Nothing. Because it’s entirely out of your hands.

Treasure your culture, absolutely! Revel in it. Learn all you want and can and strive to carry it forth to the next generation, and to teach anyone who wishes to listen. Absolutely do! Take pride in your accomplishments. Take pride in what you do to carry your culture forth into the future. Take pride in what you help others accomplish. Take pride in what you do to raise public awareness of the reality of your culture. Or your sexuality. Or gender identity. Or any other aspect of your being that is being woefully misrepresented somewhere. But don’t take pride in simply being what you are.

Because that’s just part of the completely random toolbox you got at birth - a toolbox you could not have possibly chosen any part of.

Taking pride OR feeling shame over things that you had no hand in is something you have no right or reason to do.

Never judge anyone - not even yourself - by what they have. Judge only by what they DO with what they have.

These thoughts have all been spawned by my time on tumblr. It’s a community that wants to be progressive and inclusive, but is much too often anything but. It’s all complaining, all vitriol, all salt, all echo chambers fostering this kind of thinking. Very little, if any, actual attempts at working towards real improvement.

I remember seeing a comic that circulated some time ago. About equality vs equity. There were these three kids standing by a fence, trying to watch a game of some sport or another taking place at the other side. They were all different height.

In the equality picture, all three kids got a box to stand on, of equal size.

In the equity picture, they got a different amount of boxes, making it so all of them could see over the fence.

But there was a third picture. One rarely included.

This picture adressed the fence itself. It swapped the wooden fence to a wire fence. One that all three kinds could see the game through, without any need of boxes.

That’s the kind of world I’d much rather live in. One where the barrier itself is adressed. Where there is no need for boxes to stand on.

Yet all anyone can really, truly do, is do as Michael Jackson said, and start with the man in the mirror.

We can complain. We can decry. We can wallow. But it’s all for naught if we don’t then step up and act on it.

I'm sick and tired of the ceaseless complaining without action and the oppressive feeling of helplessness fostered here. I want to actually DO something to help the world be better. And if I’m not in a position where I can help personally, I can at least reach out to those in a position to do so.

This is why I donate to charity whenever I can afford it, despite my miniscule budget of a university student on sick leave with a lot of medical fees.

This is why I endeavor to always smile to strangers, be they the retail worker at the checkout, a simple passerby or the cold beggar on the street.

This is why I am always eager to share what I know with people who may need it, be it pointers about mental health or simply how to patch up a torn pair of pants.

All minuscule, inconsequential acts in the grand scheme of things. But it’s something. It’s my small straw, pulled to the anthill. Makes me feel just a little tiny bit less helpless about all the terrible things in the world.

Because even if it’s something small, it’s better than doing nothing. Far better than simply complaining and wallowing about a problem without ever following it up with action.

I don’t even know what I’m on about anymore. I should probably stop writing. Get something to eat. Go to sleep. Bye for now, then.

#status update #mental health stuff #really long rant #disjointed flow of thoughts garbled onto a page #had a lot of stuff to get off my chest I suppose #probably ignore this

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fourteenacross · 7 years ago

Note

For the fic summary, would you be able to do "The world turned upside down" with Lams?

I’m NOTICING A TREND in the choice of titles for all of these XD

OKAY, so I started writing this one at work Monday and then got distracted by boredom and life, so SORRY FOR THE WAIT, I still have two more to do after this.

ANYWAY.

PART ONEAlex and John have been friends since practically FOREVER. Or at least it feels that way. They met during college orientation and ended up dorming on the same hall freshman year and then moved into honors housing together their sophomore year and stayed there until graduation. They got an apartment right after school and lived together all through grad school, while John worked on his masters in elementary and secondary education and Alex dove into law school. They stayed together after grad school, too–Alex got a job at a firm in the city and John got a teaching job in Rockland or Westchester or something like that and it was easier to just commute on the MetroNorth than find a new place and a new roommate and all that.

Or, at least, that’s what John told everyone, because it was less embarrassing than saying, “Actually I’m hopelessly in love with my best friend like some garbage soap opera cliche and I’ll take any excuse to stay near him even though I know we’ll never have the kind of relationship I want us to have.”

Because Alex doesn’t do relationships anymore, and John has intimate knowledge of that. John watched Alex date around in college and drag a years long friends-with-benefits thing out with a girl in their friends group, the closest he would let himself come to a real relationship. In grad school, when Alex admitted that maybe it was time to settle down, John introduced him to a classmate of his, the nicest girl he’d ever met, the only person he could see himself not resenting, should she and Alex fall madly in love and get married. Except that blew up in Alex’s face, too–he was so busy with school and with life that their schedules never meshed and, in the end, it was easier for Alex to cheat on her with his old college fling than it was to build time for her into his already complicated life.

(“It’s not your fault, John,” she said after, while John, guilty for too many reasons to list and far more than he felt comfortable admitting to, gave her hugs and tissues and brought over a bottle of wine. “He needs to grow up and learn to take other people’s needs into account–there’s nothing you can do to change that. There was nothing I could do to change that. And I told him all of that.” She paused. “And then I set a box of his stuff on fire.”)

Right after law school, Alex tries one more time–this time with a guy they both knew from college, someone from history that I’d poke around and come up with, maybe John Andre–some too-suave asshole that John never liked much, but tolerated for Alex’s sake. And it was mostly fine at first, but it started to get stilted and awkward and eventually the dude ghosted him. John took him out for a consolation drink and tried not to be too pleased that it crashed and burned.

“The shitty thing,” Alex said, three vodka tonics into the night, “is that we’re not friends anymore! Like, I don’t have a ton of friends! And I liked him! I liked him, I liked…all of them. Eliza. Maria, too! When we were just hooking up, it was fine, but then I went and messed up with her and Eliza and…that’s what I need again. No more relationships–they ruin friendships. I can only date people I don’t give a shit about or like…hook up with my friends.”

“That’s…a way to go about it,” John says, and ignores the sinking feeling in his chest.

“You gotta keep me from crashing and burning like this again, man. Pinky swear.”

And he holds up his pinky and John fucking does it, even though he knows it’s the final nail in the coffin of any relationship they might have had.

So, yeah. John knows nothing’s going to happen and he knows he’s a little pathetic. He tries not to be. He dates around a little. He does his best not to be pathetic and pining. And why should he be? He and Alex are partners in everything–they live together, they make financial decisions together, they go everywhere together and do everything together. Alex sits through awkward Christmas dinners with him and his family in South Carolina, John goes with Alex to all his terrible office holiday parties and company picnics. Alex comes to fundraiser nights at the school when he can get off work, cheering John on in the kids-vs-teachers game nights and spending an embarrassing amount of money at the tricky tray.

(And it only sucks a little to say, over and over again, no, Alex is just John’s best friend, yes, John knows the school has a very strong non-discrimination policy, no, he’s not in the closet and trying to hide their relationship.)

There’s nothing more John could want except, you know, the kissing and the sex. All of the rest of it is already there, and if that’s the only thing he’s missing, then that’s okay.

This goes on for a few years, right up until John’s thirtieth birthday party. Their friends make a big fucking deal of it, Alexander leading the charge. There’s dinner out at their favorite dumb hipster restaurant with all their friends, then it’s back to their apartment for video games and cheaper drinks and cake and dancing. Everyone drinks too much–it’s like they’re all twenty-one again, except they’re too old to sustain it for long and by midnight, the living room is littered with their friends, curled up on the sofa, on pillows on the floor, leaning against the walls, but instead of being passed out from drinking too much, they’re just genuinely asleep.

John and Alex, meanwhile, are sitting in the bathtub side-by-side, fully dressed and passing a bottle of champagne back and forth.

“I can’t believe we’ve known each other for twelve years,” Alex says. “It feels like less and more at the same time. I can’t remember my life without you.” He puts his head on John’s shoulder and John’s heart sighs.

“I know what you mean,” John says. “It’s all a blur.”

“The future, too,” Alex says. “I can’t imagine a future where you’re not my best friend. Where you’re not there with me all the time, everywhere, you know? I can’t imagine my life without you.”

And he looks up at John and reaches up to push his hair out of his face and John forces himself not to do something really, really stupid.

“Same,” he says.

“Yeah,” Alex says, but he’s clearly not really listening any longer. He’s staring at John, like he’s a puzzle to solve. “Hey, why have we never hooked up?”

John blinks rapidly. “Um. I don’t…know.”

“Just…you’re fucking gorgeous,” Alex continues. “Like, you always have been. I can’t believe we’ve never had sex.”

“You’ve never…asked,” John says carefully.

Now Alex blinks rapidly. “You would if I asked?”

“I…think so.”

“Huh.” Alex keeps staring at him, then wraps a hand around his jaw and pulls him down for a kiss that he knows, John knows he should stop. He should push Alex away and say, I can’t do this if it means nothing to you because it means something to me.

He doesn’t.

Alex kisses him once, very sweetly, and then pulls away. “I think,” he says gravely, “we should definitely have sex. It would be fun. I mean, we do everything else together, might as well do this too, right?”

And it’s a terrible idea, because it’s crystal clear that Alex isn’t saying, I love you! Be my boyfriend! But John is drunk and it’s his fucking birthday and he only has so much self-control.

“Okay,” he says.

So they do. Alex gets up and he pulls John up out of the bathtub and they stumble first into John’s room, where Eliza and Peggy are sleeping in his bed, and then into Alex’s room where they kiss and laugh and joke while they strip each other and then have really good sex. Like. Annoyingly good sex. John is actively annoyed that sex with Alex is fucking excellent. It would be better if it was awkward enough to kill his feelings, but no, it’s great, OF COURSE IT’S GREAT, so there goes that hope.

In the morning, John is afraid things will be weird and ruined but that’s normal too–Alex kisses him when he wakes up and says, “That was awesome. We should do that more often, right?”

And John, still half-stunned by the whole affair and a smidge hungover, says, “…yeah, sure.”

And he knows it’s a terrible fucking idea, but he can’t make himself give it up. He’s not strong enough.

It becomes a thing that is simultaneously all he’s wanted and the last thing he fucking needs. Because things are totally normal! They go about their daily lives! They do everything exactly like they’ve always done it, except that sometimes, Alex will melodramatically throw himself across John’s lap on the couch and say, “I think you should kiss me” and sometimes he’ll get into the shower with John and sometimes he’ll just outright say, “Will you come to bed with me tonight?”

And sometimes he doesn’t even want to have sex! Sometimes he’ll crawl into John’s bed and they’ll spoon and just talk like they did in college, when there was five feet of floor space between their beds and John was fucking longing for it to disappear, imagining what it would be like if they were doing this instead, curled up together, skin against skin.

And if he ups his usual trips to box at the gym from twice a week to three or four times a week–well, he’s gotta get all of this misery out somehow and now that he’s a public school teacher, assault charges from bar fights are not exactly stellar additions to his resume.

Ninety percent of the time, it’s fine. Ninety percent of the time, John can pretend they’re in love and they’re dating and that’s why they live like this. But every once in a while Alex will hook up with someone else or dance with a stranger at a bar or make a throw-away comment like, “I feel like you used to date more” over dinner, and it all comes crashing down and John has to get drunk with Eliza or Martha or even, twice, Alex’s partner at the firm, this guy Aaron Burr who’s kind of a cold asshole at times, but is one of the only people who will straight up say to John, “This is the stupidest thing I have ever seen, you’re ruining your own life and happiness.”

Sometimes, that’s what John needs to hear.

PART TWOFrom Alex’s point of view! It’s been a little over a year since Alex and John started their arrangement–it’s just after Thanksgiving and yesterday they had a very nice dinner with Alex’s boss and his family and today they’re taking out their Christmas decorations because it’s tradition. John is fighting with the boxes, standing on a kitchen chair as he reaches up to the very top shelf in the closet to get them down while Alex “directs” and thinks absently about how nice it is to have traditions, how comfortable and happy he is having built this routine with someone he loves so much.

It’s a Friday, they’re both off, most of their friends are away to visit family and whatnot, so it feels quiet and comfortable and relaxing in a way Alex’s time off sometimes isn’t. There are only so many hours free in a given week and sometimes he gets overwhelmed with the need to fill them all with friends and work and things, like doing nothing and relaxing will waste them. Today, though, there’s nothing to do but be here with John and that feels…okay. His thoughts aren’t overtaken by the ticking of a clock that reminds him that he only has so many more hours left on this earth and he still hasn’t written a book or done anything Worth Something.

John is updating Alex on all the family gossip so he’ll be Prepared when they fly down to South Carolina next month, sitting crosslegged on the couch as he untangles the tree lights, monologuing about why no one likes Henry’s new girlfriend. Alex is sitting on the ground in the corner, setting up their tree, and he doesn’t even really mean to look at John–the things he’s saying are just background chatter, nothing Alex can’t read between the lines from Facebook–but he turns around and maybe it’s the lighting or the smile on John’s face or the way he still has bedhead or his too-big hoodie or…well. Alex doesn’t know what it is. All he knows is that he’s overcome with the urge to burst into tears at the sight of him. He’s suffocating in how much he loves John.

And of course he loves John–John’s been his best friend for over a decade, the most important person in his life. John is his family, his partner, his…his whole fucking world. He has been for forever. It feels like forever, at least. Of course Alex loves him, John knows Alex loves him, Alex knows that John loves him back. But it’s like he’s seeing it for the first time. It’s like…it’s not just that he loves John, like he’s in love with John. Like he’s passionately, breathlessly, hopelessly in love. Like his heart is going to explode with it, like he can’t breathe right.

Which is…it’s bad, right? Because relationships do not ever work out for Alex, relationships just ruin his friendships, they always have. He’s fucking lucky he’s been able to salvage some of them, and really, the only reason he was able to patch things up with Eliza is because she was John’s friend first. He can’t fucking lose John–if he loses John, he loses his entire fucking life.

So he’s a little panicked. John notices, eventually, and asks him if there’s something wrong and he makes a vague excuse and goes to put on another pot of coffee, where he lets himself freak out quietly for the length of time it takes to brew.

Ultimately, this realization means nothing in the scheme of things. Life will go on–he and John have it good, now, they have a life together, they have the perfect relationship, romance be damned. Hell, they even sleep together sometimes! More than sometimes, lately, if Alex is honest with himself. He hasn’t really slept with anyone but John for at least four or five months, now. There just hasn’t been any point–if he wants sex, why chance it with some rando when he knows he can have great, fun, amazing sex with his best friend without leaving the house?

They have it good, is the point, and Alex absolutely cannot ruin that by getting his fucking feelings involved. He needs to think about this objectively. He needs time.

He gathers himself together and brings coffee in for him and John and if he shivers a little when John grabs his hand and pulls him down onto the couch next to him, he came blame it on the drafty windows and cool November air.

Alex gets through the weekend by sheer force of will, by pretending nothing has changed. Monday is a different story–he’s already at work, chewing on his fingernails and trying to focus on a legal brief when Aaron Burr comes in to join him.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks. He raises one eyebrow when he says it. John can raise one eyebrow at a time and Alex has always thought it was a neat trick and pretty hot, but now that he’s seeing it in his mind’s eye, it’s turning his insides into putty.

“Nothing,” Alex croaks.

“No, seriously,” Aaron says. “Are you alright? Is John alright?”

And something must change in Alex’s face because Aaron immediately looks smug and bored. Both. Simultaneously. That shouldn’t even be possible.

“Ah,” he says. “I was wondering if you’d ever get there.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alex huffs.

“You just realized that you’re ass over teakettle for the guy you’ve essentially been married to for as long as I’ve known you,” Aaron says.

“We’re not….” Alex says awkwardly. He can feel himself blushing.

“You are,” Aaron says, sitting at his desk and booting up his computer. “He’s even worse than you. I think he’s always known, maybe as long as he’s known you. He certainly acts that way.”

“Wait, what?”

The look Aaron gives him over his computer screen is condescending as hell. “Alexander, if you hadn’t realized that your roommate is obsessively in love with you by now, you have no business being this good of a lawyer.”

Well, fuck.

“Let me give you some advice,” he continues, and Alex settles in, arms crossed, preemptively glaring. The last time Aaron gave him advice it was to keep his mouth shut and be more pleasant, the sort of neutral garbage that Aaron does best. But this time, he surprises Alex. “You overthink things and then you sabotage yourself. You do it every time. Don’t ruin this by overthinking it.”

For once in his life, he’s speechless. All he can do is nod in reply.

Alex spends all day picking this new information apart in the back of his head. John doesn’t seem in love with him. John seems the same way he’s always seemed. Of course, if what Aaron said was right, then maybe that’s because John’s always been in love with him. But he would have said something if that was true, right?

He leaves work with a headache and being around John that night shouldn’t help it, but it does. John can tell something’s wrong, so after dinner he drags Alex to the couch and makes him abandon his work to watch a dumb movie on Netflix. They cuddle under a blanket. John kisses his forehead. Alex wants to marry him and adopt a million babies with him and kiss him in front of all of their friends. It’s horrible.

Because the core issue here is that Alex is fucking terrible at relationships. He’s ruined every single one. And if John is in love with him, maybe he’s already ruined this one. Maybe years and years of not noticing have burned out John’s feelings. Maybe John has built this up to something so perfect in his head that Alex can’t compete. Because Alex isn’t perfect–far from it. Alex is going to hurt him. Alex is going to completely destroy John, just like he completely destroys everyone around him. His beautiful, sweet, obnoxious, bullheaded, asshole best friend. His favorite person in the world.

He has no idea what to do.

And because he’s just the absolute fucking worst at this shit, he has to go and make it a zillion times more complicated.

He can’t help himself. He’s always had terrible self-control. So when they stay in on Friday night drinking and playing video games and John murders him in Mario Kart and does his dumb little victory dance, Alex can’t help but grab him and kiss him. He’s so fucking cute what the hell else is he supposed to do? He grabs John and he kisses him and John laughs and kisses him back and they stumble into Alex’s bedroom, laughing, and start to undress and halfway through the whole thing, Alex just gets…completely overwhelmed.

He doesn’t mean to make it different or weird or whatever, but it turns so quickly into something new and strange, something soft and tender and deliberate. Normally, they laugh and joke all through this, they rib each other and poke fun and grin, but tonight Alex thinks he might cry. He’s careful and slow and John goes quiet and soft, a little shaky with something not unlike desperation. It’s…it’s…intimate. It’s different and perfect and he’s never felt like this, never, and he knows it’s a terrible idea, but he falls into it fully, completely, embraces it.

He says, “I love you” in the quiet moments afterwards. He’s said it while they were having sex before, but he’s never said it like this, soft and sweet and honest. John looks like he’s about to burst into tears–he just lays his head on Alex’s chest and doesn’t say anything at all. They fall asleep that way.

In the morning, things are…weird. Alex maybe starts it–he normally gets out of bed long before John on the weekends, but he feigns sleep until after John has woken up and slipped out of bed and left Alex alone in the bedroom where he spends a few minutes just breathing and re-centering himself. Once Alex does go out to the living room, John is quiet and won’t make eye contact with him and every time he does, he flushes and looks away quickly. He’s trying so hard to be normal, but Alex can see right through it. He can’t blame John, though–he can’t quite seem to find “normal” either, stumbling over his words, self-concious about everything from what he’s doing with his hands to where he’s standing and how his hair looks.

They’re like that all day. It’s awful. It’s just–it’s the opposite of what he wants. It’s the opposite of what he and John have had for fucking years. He had to go and ruin it all with his goddamn feelings, just like he always does.

So, in the end, he makes a half-hearted attempt to hit the reset button.

“I think I’m gonna go out for a drink,” he tells John after dinner. “Just, like…to the place around the corner. Do you want to come?”

John is surprised. He can tell. And maybe hurt? At the very least, he looks resigned for the brief second he glances up at Alex before turning away.

“Nah,” he says weakly. “Go on. I might. Um. I guess I’ll just…go to bed early.”

Everything in Alex wants to follow him into the bedroom, wants to hug him and hold him and explain in a rush all of these feelings.

He does not listen to that part of himself. He makes some vague noise in affirmation, grabs his coat, and heads out to the bar.

The bar is loud and full of people and getting lost in the crowd helps him relax for the first time in a week. No one here knows him, no one here has any expectations of him. He can’t disappoint any of these people. He orders a drink that he finishes too quickly, then orders another, then takes it over to the corner, where there’s a woman standing at a high-top on her own, glancing coyly in his direction.

The music is so loud he needs to speak nearly directly into her ear for her to hear him and vice versa, which might be by design. He pulls out a few of his best pick-up lines, but the delivery is off. He keeps thinking about how terrible her perfume smells and how it will probably be a hike back to wherever she lives. He can’t bring her back to his place. Maybe they can hook up in the bathroom like they’re in college. But that seems like a lot of work too, especially for some stranger. She’s pretty, sure, but…he’s having trouble mustering up the energy to do anything about that.

He’s also not been listening to her for the past five minutes, zoning out completely as he weighs the pros and cons of sleeping with this woman.

Pro: She’s pretty. He has all of this energy that he needs to expend. He’s jittery. She’s here.

Con: He can’t stop fucking thinking about John.

Will John make him move out? Or maybe John will want to move out–Alex knows it’s only been luck keeping him in the city since he started teaching. He could have a much better commute and a much larger place for the same price if he left the city. John will probably move out and get a nice little apartment and he’ll start dating again and meet some gorgeous, smart guy. They’ll invite Alex over every once in a while. It’ll be awkward as shit. Alex will be John’s best man at their wedding and then probably barely ever speak to him again.

Fuck.

The woman is still talking and Alex is nodding along and now he’s definitely gonna sleep with her, because he can’t stop thinking about John and some mystery hot guy who’s gonna make him so fucking happy, so happy he’ll leave Alex behind. Alex who’s broken, who can never do this shit right without ruining it, without sabotaging it.

And then he’s thinking about what Burr said on Monday morning. Don’t overthink it. Don’t sabotage yourself. And, weirdly, from there, he’s thinking about the night Eliza broke up with him. You need to grow up! she had shouted at him through her tears. You need to realize that other people have feelings and needs and the world doesn’t revolve around you! If you really want to love someone besides yourself someday, try thinking about someone besides you for once!

He pulls away from the girl, abruptly, and then realizes she won’t be able to hear him, so he leans back in and says, “Hey, wow, I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” and pulls back again. He can see her lips form what? and he just smiles apologetically and starts to weave in and out of strangers towards the door.

He’s about ten feet away from it when it swings open and John is there, looking red-eyed and resolved.

“John?” he says, and John meets his eyes and says something that he can’t hear. “What?” John starts to speak again and then rolls his eyes and shoves his way forward. He grabs Alex’s arm and pulls him back towards the door, into an alcove next to it.

He’s still holding both of Alex’s wrists when he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then opens them again and stares right at Alex as he begins to talk, half-shouting to be heard. “Look, you should know–you should know I’m in love with you. And I have been for a long time and I just–need to tell you. I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t just go off and let you do this and pretend it doesn’t fucking kill me because it does. I’m in love with you, and I’m not saying that to guilt you or to…to force you to be with me. I’m saying it because it’s been going on for too long and I can’t let this be the rest of my life. And if–if you want me to leave, that’s fine. If you think this is going to make things weird, that’s fine. But I can’t sleep with you anymore, I can’t kiss you. And I can’t keep this up if you don’t know. So.”

John drops Alex’s hands and shrugs. They stand in…well, it’s not silence, because the bass is still giving Alex a headache and he still can’t hear himself think, but.

He grabs John’s hands, weaves their fingers together.

“Can we go outside?” he shouts, and John nods gratefully. Alex lets go of one of his hands, but keeps hold on the other and pulls John back out to the street.

It’s cold and windy, but Alex is filling with resolve. He’s not sure where it comes from–Aaron’s words or Eliza’s or John’s, the silence around them begging to be filled, the churning in his gut when he thought about sleeping with a rando at the bar, the way John’s hand fits perfectly in his own and always has, the fact that he’s thirty fucking years old and needs to stop being afraid of things he can’t control, the cautious, nervous look in John’s eyes.

“So,” he says, and turns to take John’s other hand again. “So. I was just coming to find you, actually.

John blinks at him. “Okay?”

“To like…basically say the same thing, I think?” Alex continues. “I just…yeah. I think I’m in love with you. And I think I probably shouldn’t try to, like…torpedo everything between us just because that’s really scary. Which it is. But also you’re my favorite person in the world, ever, and for the past week all I’ve wanted to do is like…kiss you and pick out china patterns.”

“We already have china,” John says automatically, and Alex can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him.

“Oh my god,” he says. “That’s really…you’re right. We already fucking have good china. Jesus.” He wraps his arms around John, still laughing, hugging him tightly. He practically melts when John returns the embrace just as fiercely. “I think we should probably get married or something.”

John sputters a laugh or maybe it’s something closer to a sob. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re gonna have to–like, I’m probably gonna be an asshole and panic every other day for the first few weeks, but you’re gonna have to be confident that I love you and I’m just a goddamn lunatic.��

“I already know those things,” John promises him. “I’m gonna be an asshole too, but probably not about this, just because…you know, I’m an asshole.”

“I already know that, too,” Alex says. “Aaron says he thinks you’ve been in love with me for forever.”

“At least since you stole that freezer full of ice pops from the dining hall freshman year and made me pinky swear not to tell the RA,” John confirms.

Alex suddenly, deeply wishes he could say the same thing. He wishes that his realization had come with some knowledge of one event, one day that he can pinpoint as the day he fell in love with John. It doesn’t, though. Maybe he’s always been in love with John or maybe it really happened just last week. It’s all a muddle of everything they’ve always been to each other. He doesn’t know when one stops and the other begins.

“I wish I had known sooner,” is what he says instead of me too. John laughs again and pulls back. He’s definitely crying. Alex is pretty sure he was crying before he came to the bar, too, and it makes him feel a little sick.

“I don’t,” John tells him flatly. “You were a fucking nightmare boyfriend in college and in grad school and even just after. Eliza’s a good person who limited herself to one box of your shit–I would have torched your whole closet.”

There’s a pause and they both crack up again and then start to stumble back towards home, still laughing, with their arms around each other, and Alex is a little scared and a little nervous and a little uncertain, but while he might doubt himself, he’s never in over twelve years doubted John for even a second, so he thinks they’ll probably be okay.

EPILOGUEBack to John for this. It’s about seven months later, the middle of the next June. John is finishing up final grades for his kids and Alex is lying on the couch typing something on his laptop. He keeps sighing theatrically and finally says, “Hey, can I run this by you?”

Without looking up, John says, “are you done with your vows, then?”

“No,” Alex says, “that’s what I’m running by you.”

John doesn’t know whether or laugh or roll his eyes or throw something at Alex. “You can’t have me workshop the eternal promises you’re going to swear to me in front of all of our friends!”

He throws his pen at Alex, just because. Alex ducks.

“No one would know better than you though, right?”

“If you don’t stop, I’m not gonna marry you at all.”

“That’s an empty threat, we’re spending a stupid amount of money on this thing.”

And they are. They almost went to the courthouse the weekend after they got their shit together. They would have if, of all people, Aaron Burr hadn’t caught wind of the plan and demanded they throw a party.

“You’ve made the rest of us suffer through this for years, the least you can do is give us cake and beer for our trouble,” he had said.

(Alex, he told John privately at their friends group’s holiday gathering a few days later, has not shut up about how smart and perfect and great John is since they first started sharing an office. Burr honestly thought they were married for the first month. He never wanted to say anything to John before because he was afraid to get his hopes up, but now that they’re two seconds from eloping, he’s happy to bitch extensively about how maudlin and affectionate Alex is all the fucking time and has been for years.)

So there’s going to be a wedding–a bigger one than either of them imagined, if only because they have a lot of friends and, somewhat surprisingly, a nice chunk of John’s family is interested in attending as well.

(“Does this mean we have to go to Henry’s wedding?” Alex asks. He is, by this point, very aware of all the reasons Henry’s girlfriend drives them all crazy.

“Unfortunately, I think so,” John admits.)

So there’s going to be a party, and it’s not like they had to spare expense. They already live together, they already have stupid adult stuff like furniture and matching bath towels and blenders and, yes, good china. No one has to move, no one is changing their name, nothing is changing, really, so they folded all those parts of a newlywed budget into an open bar and a nice venue outside the city. Almost every single fucking RSVP invitation is returned with some snarky remark scrawled on it, it’s about time or glad you stopped kidding yourselves about this. Every time he opens one and sees something like that, he throws it at Alex.

“Your fault!” he announces.

And then Alex, inevitably, says something ridiculous and cheesy and emotionally candid like, “Yeah, but I needed to work through my growing pains to really understand how much I love you” or “It is, but I would do it a hundred more times if it meant I could be as sure as I am that I’ll never want anyone else,” and John gets wibbly and lets him get away with it.

It’s so fucking annoying how sweet Alex can be sometimes. It drives him up a fucking wall.

So here they are, finishing up the last of their real life shit before the wedding. John’s got a week left of school, Alex has one more big case and some background interviews and research for one smaller case and then it’s July and they’ll be packing up to spend a long weekend in the country where they’ll get married in front of all of their friends. Married. Alexander is going to marry him.

He has to put his head down on the table.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks. “I was only joking about workshopping my vows. Well. Sort of.”

“I’m fine,” John says. “I just…can’t believe this is really happening. I can’t believe it’s real.”

Alex gently urges him to sit up and then pulls him away from the table and over to the couch. He slides his laptop under the couch and they both fall into a sprawl over it.

“I mean this, you know,” Alex tells him seriously. “I’ve never meant anything more than this. I want to marry you. I wanted to marry you six months ago.”

“No, I know,” John says. “I know you do. I trust you. I just…for a very long time, this seemed impossible.”

“I know,” Alex says. He frowns for a moment, then holds out his pinky. “But this is us now, okay? Forever and ever. Like I said, I can’t imagine my life without you and I don’t wanna, so this is me promising that we’re gonna be together for the rest of our lives. I’m not leaving you behind.”

And John links their pinkies together and they shake three times and then Alex is grinning at him brilliantly and maybe this meant more than any vows in front of a justice of the peace could possibly mean. Maybe this is all John really needs–him and Alex, alone and quiet and making this solemn promise to no one but each other.

Of course, they’re still going to have a party and a wedding–they’re still gonna sign paperwork and eat cake and dance in front of all their friends and listen to a million smartass speeches that start with, “I’ve known this day was coming for five hundred years.” But all of that will be icing on the cake of this quiet, private promise that John isn’t going to break for as long as he lives.

The end!

#not writing meme #fic by me #sort of #lams #john laurens #alexander hamilton #obligatory tag about how this is way longer than i thought it would be goes here

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