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eldritch-thrumming · 1 year

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i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.

kiss me once ‘cause you know i had a long night, kiss me twice ‘cause it’s gonna be all right, three times ‘cause i’ve waited my whole life

Steve’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He’s technically not supposed to have it on the floor, but it’s 9:30 on a Wednesday night and the store’s dead anyway.

Eddie 🎸👎: date’s a dud engage emergency protocol immediately 🚨🚨🚨

Steve rolls his eyes and clicks the little phone icon near Eddie’s name.

“Hello?” Eddie manages to sound both confused and concerned.

“Help, help,” Steve deadpans, leaning his elbows on the counter. “I’m having an emergency that only you can help me with.” Steve’s done this enough times in the three years they’ve lived together to know that Eddie can think up his own lie to tell his date.

“Oh my god, I’ll be right there, Steve.”

Steve’s not sure how Eddie manages to make it sound so convincing every time, but it’s enough that even Steve might start to believe it if he wasn’t the one calling.

Eddie hangs up without saying goodbye, probably to tell his date some exaggerated story about how Steve’s fallen in the shower or fell off a ladder. Somehow, all Eddie’s emergency scenarios involve Steve hurting himself in increasingly embarrassing ways.

By the time Steve’s got the store tidied and closed and walked the four blocks to their apartment, Robin and Eddie are already on the couch in the living room. Steve can hear them bickering over what to watch from the front hallway as he slips off his shoes and shrugs out of his jacket. He follows the sound of their voices to find them practically wrestling over the remote.

“Jesus, can’t leave you two alone for more than five minutes. You’re worse than the kids,” Steve says as he makes his way across the room and into the kitchen for a bag of chips. It wasn’t the healthiest dinner, but he was too exhausted to cook.

“There’s leftovers from the diner in the fridge,” Eddie calls out to him, not even missing a beat as he pries the remote from Robin’s white-knuckled grip.

“You took leftovers on a first date?” Robin asks him, appalled, as if it’s the most unheard of thing Eddie’s ever said.

Steve’s popping the styrofoam container into their tiny microwave as Eddie tells her, “It was a second date for your information.” He puts on an episode of Ghost Adventures without asking anyone’s input.

“Wow, someone made it past your rigorous first date interview? Shocker.” Robin crosses her arms and huffs in annoyance, because she was also going to put on Ghost Adventures but it’s the principle of the thing. You just don’t take a woman’s remote from her, under any circumstance.

“Hey, it’s imperative for me to suss out a potential partner’s commitment to the music gods,” Eddie says.

“‘Potential partners’?” Robin scoffs. “I thought you said you were in your slut era?”

“Well,” Eddie seems to lose his footing here. “I am. But I can’t be fucking anyone who listens to Tame Impala.”

“Steve listens to Tame Impala.”

Steve has made it back into the living room in time to see the blush rise on Eddie’s cheeks.

“Good thing I’m not fucking Steve then, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, good thing.” Even Steve can hear the eye roll in Robin’s voice.

Because the thing was…

Okay, so the thing is…

The long and short of it is that they’re not fucking.

But they’re also, like. Not not fucking.

It’s just that sometimes, after a horrible date or a stressful day or even just when they’re feeling incredibly horny, the apartment can feel kind of lonely, even with two roommates. So. They… do stuff. Together. No penetration, but. Yeah. Enough for it to be called ‘fucking,’ probably. At least Steve thinks so.

But they haven’t told Robin. They’re both pretty sure she suspects. She’s not a fucking idiot and Steve thinks someone living under the same roof as Steve and Eddie would have to be in order to be that oblivious. Steve’s pretty sure she’s been trying to get one or the other of them to confess, but they’ve held strong so far. It’s not that they were hiding it, exactly. It was just that, whenever this thing inevitably came to an end or imploded on them both, they didn’t want to have to explain it to anyone. At least that was what Steve was thinking, because it’s not like they actually talk about it.

Neither of them say anything else, so Steve makes an attempt to change the subject.

“So what did you tell your date this time?” He asks Eddie before shoveling a forkful of reheated pasta into his own mouth.

Eddie smirks. “I told him you cut off the tip of your finger with your crafting scissors while you were scrapbooking and then passed out from the sight of the blood and hit your head on the corner of the coffee table.”

Steve pauses with his fork halfway between the takeout container and his mouth.

“I thought these emergencies were supposed to be believable.”

“I’ve literally walked in on you scrapbooking multiple times, Stevie,” Eddie says it like he’s stating the obvious.

“I could never cut through my fingers with my crafting scissors.”

“Oh, that’s what you take issue with about that lame-ass scenario?” Robin scoffs again.

“There’s nothing wrong with scrapbooking,” Steve says defensively.

“Didn’t say there was,” Robin mutters, turning her attention back to the TV. “Can you guys shut up now? I’m trying to watch my stories.”

Steve rolls his eyes and shares a look with Eddie before doing as Robin says and shutting the fuck up. He drops down into the lone armchair to finish his leftover diner food, attention fixed on the television. He thinks he can feel it every time Eddie’s eyes dart over to look at him.

~*~

Later, after Eddie’s snuck into his bed around one a.m. and they’re laying there next to each other in the afterglow, Steve asks, “So the date really sucked?”

Eddie sighs. “I mean, he was nice and all, but there just wasn’t any, like… chemistry or whatever. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Steve responds, his voice low. Steve hadn’t been on a date in months, hadn’t felt the usual impulse to flirt with strangers incessantly. Robin kept saying he was in a lull or a slump or something, but Steve does start to feel lonely sometimes, especially when Robin is out with her girlfriend and Eddie has a date and he’s left to his own devices in their shared apartment. Even though, more often than not lately, Eddie’s dates almost always end in “emergency protocol” and the two of them wind up tangled in Steve’s sheets. Steve can’t help but think that it’s only a matter of time before all of this comes to an end, before Eddie finds someone who’s perfect for him.

Someone who isn’t Steve.

~*~

Three days later, Steve and Eddie wake up to the blaring honk of Steve’s alarm, wrapped around each other. Steve can’t help but notice the way Eddie looks when he’s just woken up, soft and rumpled, hair a tangled mess on top of his head.

“Ugh, make it stop,” Eddie groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Steve slams his hand down on his alarm clock and flops back onto his pillows, even though he really should be getting up for work. He wraps a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck before dropping a kiss to his forehead and pulling him back to lie against his chest.

“Don’t wanna get up yet,” Steve mutters, eyes falling shut again. The blankets are warm and soft and the weight of Eddie on his chest is enough to have him drifting back into sleep.

Eddie doesn’t let him though. Instead, he plants his palm on Steve’s chest and pushes himself upright, making Steve groan in dissatisfaction.

“Gotta get up, dude,” Eddie tells him, yawning and climbing out from under the covers to pull on his discarded sleep pants. “Got, like, seven engines to fix today. Something about spring, man, everyone’s car starts to break down.” Eddie pulls his t-shirt over his head before opening Steve’s door and sticking his head out, making sure the coast is clear.

Eddie leaves the door slightly open and crosses back to Steve’s bed, planting a kiss on Steve’s cheek, like he just can’t help himself.

“Won’t get off until late and then I have a date, so keep your phone at the ready,” Eddie smiles when he says it and Steve wants to trace his dimples with his tongue.

“Coming home first?”

“Nah, just gonna shower at the gym next door,” Eddie stretches. “See ya later, Stevie.” And then he’s out the door and slipping quickly into his own room down the hall.

Steve doesn’t like the way Eddie’s bedroom door sounds as it clicks shut.

~*~

Steve has the early shift at the store, so when he gets home in the late afternoon with two bags of groceries, he’s got the apartment to himself. Robin’s spending her weekend off with Vickie and Eddie’s still at work before heading off to his date.

Steve puts his groceries away, makes himself an early dinner, and then positions himself in front of the TV. He puts his phone face up on the coffee table, so he’ll see it when Eddie texts him to get out of his date.

He gets lost in the Real Housewives of Wherever for hours before he remembers he’s supposed to be keeping an eye on his phone. He taps the screen and sees there are no notifications. That’s weird. It’s already well past nine; Eddie usually texts by now for a rescue.

Steve sits back on the couch, eyes on his phone where it sits on the coffee table in front of him. He watches it for a few long moments, willing it to ring.

It doesn’t.

~*~

Hours later, Steve wakes up to the front door slamming shut. His face feels plastered to the leather of their second-hand couch. He knows it’s Eddie coming through the door because he’s the only one of them that lets it slam when it closes.

Steve reaches for his phone, still on the coffee table where he’s left it. He taps the screen and sees that it’s already after two in the morning. Eddie comes into the living room and seems surprised to see him on the couch.

“You’re still up?” He asks, eyebrows pulling together.

“You didn’t call,” Steve tries to make it sound casual, but even he hears the accusation in his own voice.

“Uh yeah. No. He was, uh. Kinda cool, actually,” Eddie smiles to himself and it looks so soft and sweet in the dim light of TV. Steve feels his chest go hollow seeing it. He swallows.

“Well,” Steve clears his throat. “That’s great.”

“Wanna hang out?” Eddie asks. Steve’s not sure if he means hang out or hang out, but either way, Steve can’t bring himself to say yes.

“Nah.” He yawns. “Early shift tomorrow.” It’s a lie, but who can blame him?

Steve gets up off the couch and crosses the room before Eddie can say anything.

“Oh, sure,” Eddie mutters as Steve brushes past him on his way into the hallway. “Goodnight, Stevie.”

Steve feels his throat constrict, like he might cry if Eddie says anything else. He clears his throat again. “‘Night,” he returns, before he shuts his bedroom door behind him.

~*~

Steve stews in it for a couple of days. He’s annoyed and grumpy and even Robin starts avoiding him after he snaps at her one too many times for no reason. He’s avoiding Eddie, but he suspects that Eddie is also avoiding him.

Which is absurd. It’s not like Steve changed the rules. He’s not the one who changed their routine. Who went on a date with someone else and enjoyed it.

That thought gives Steve pause because that’s not what this is, is it? He’s aware that he’s not very good at keeping his emotions out of his sex life. He knows he gets too attached too soon. But Eddie is his friend. You’re supposed to have emotions for your friends. You’re supposed to hate everyone they date. You’re supposed to want to spend all your time with them. Right?

Fuck. Fuck. Steve is maybe out of his depth here.

By Tuesday night, he has no choice but to go to Robin.

“I fucked up,” he says without preamble, walking into her room without knocking and flopping face first onto her unmade bed. She just watches him from where she sits at her desk in front of her laptop. Eddie has a late night band practice after work, so they’ve got the place to themselves.

“Yeah, how?” She asks.

“I… am not sure. But I feel bad.” Steve is practically whining at this point.

“Can I tell you what I think without you getting mad at me?” Robin’s tone is cautious in a way that it hardly ever is with Steve.

“When do I ever get mad?” Steve scowls at her, the side of his face smooshed into her pillow so he can see her.

“Gee, I wonder.” Robin rolls her eyes. “You’ve been testy since Saturday, babe.”

Steve huffs but it’s not like he can deny it, exactly.

“Whatever, I’m in a bad mood,” he grumbles, picking at a thread on her comforter.

“Yeah, and why do you think that is?” Robin’s question sounds decidedly pointed.

“I dunno. Full moon or something. Something’s in retrograde, probably.”

Robin sighs. “Look, I’m going to say something to you and I want you to just listen and synthesize the information, okay? Just shut up.” Steve grunts and Robin clearly takes that for assent. “I think that you’re in love with Eddie.”

She says it so matter-of-factly that Steve sits straight up on her bed so he can look at her fully. His eyes dart to her open door. “What?” He practically spits out.

Robin rolls her eyes again. “Yeah, whatever. I know I’m not supposed to know about the… whatever you want to call it. But you guys aren’t exactly subtle. Or quiet.” Steve’s jaw falls open. “I know you’ve been fooling around for months. And you haven’t had to figure out your feelings for each other because you haven’t been dating at all and every date Eddie’s been on he’s sabotaged himself. And now he’s had a great date and you’re feeling threatened, obviously. You’re jealous, Steve.”

Steve just looks at her for a moment, before saying, “I actually hate you so much.” He looks back over toward her open door. “Did he say it was a great date?”

“Ugh, you’re pathetic.” Robin balls up a piece of paper and throws it at him, before turning serious. “Just tell him, Stevie. I’m pretty sure he’s into you just as much as you’re into him. You should see the way he stares at your ass when he thinks no one’s looking. It’s truly disgusting.”

Steve throws the ball of paper back at Robin, hitting her squarely in her forehead.

~*~

Steve locks himself in his room for the rest of the night, obsessing over what Robin has told him. He tosses and turns all night thinking about it. He’s vaguely aware of the door slamming as Eddie comes in from band practice around midnight and he thinks that maybe Eddie might linger just a little longer outside Steve’s door, but he doesn’t knock. Just pauses before he moves on to his own room.

Steve wakes up late the next morning. He has to rush through his morning routine and by the time he makes it to the kitchen for breakfast, both Robin and Eddie have left for the day. Luckily, Steve has a midday shift, so he has a bit of time before he has to leave for the store. He leans against the counter, spooning cereal into his mouth. As he places his dirty bowl and spoon in the sink to clean after work, his eyes get caught on the whiteboard they have hanging on the fridge.

Second date tonight, keep phone handy -E

Steve feels his heart start beating fast, almost erratically. His fingertips go numb. He licks his lips and leaves the kitchen, slipping on his shoes and jacket and leaving for work.

~*~

Steve comes home to an empty apartment. Robin has some study group and Eddie has his date. Steve can’t help but feel a little depressed as he walks through the door to nothing but quiet.

He makes himself dinner. He puts something on the television. He places his phone face-up on the coffee table, just in case.

It doesn’t light up with a notification until well after nine. It’s a phone call. From Eddie.

Steve fumbles his phone as he lunges to pick it up.

“Hey,” he says into his phone’s speaker. “Thought you had a date.”

“Yeah,” Steve can tell Eddie’s smiling, even though he can’t see him. “Was wondering if you had some kind of emergency to tell me about?”

“Um.” Steve is confused. This isn’t the normal script. He’s supposed to call Eddie. Not the other way around. “I don’t. Know? I mean. Yeah. I… need you?”

“On my way, Stevie.” And then he hangs up.

~*~

Steve’s paused the TV and is sitting on the living room couch in silence by the time he hears the door slam shut. He looks up as Eddie walks into the room.

“Hey,” Eddie greets him, voice low. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, been… busy.” Steve inwardly cringes at how he sounds, knows it’s a lame excuse, because Eddie knows him. He knows why he hasn’t seen Steve.

“Right,” Eddie smirks. “So… can we talk?”

“Sure, whatever.” Steve tries to sound casual, thinks he misses it by about a mile.

Eddie sits in the armchair instead of next to Steve on the couch. Steve tries not to take it as an insult.

“I was on a really good date tonight, Stevie,” Eddie tells him, voice soft and slow, like he’s breaking bad news to Steve. Steve’s heart clenches in chest, hard and painful. He nods, eyes on everything but Eddie. “He was cool and funny and actually had good taste in music.” Steve’s not exactly sure he really needs to hear this. “But…”

Steve feels a small flutter of hope in the pit of his stomach. “But?” He prompts, still not looking at Eddie.

“But.” Steve can tell from his tone that Eddie’s smiling again, that same smile he’d heard on the phone. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About sitting here watching dumb reality shows with your arm around me. Waiting for your call even though I hadn’t texted you.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Eddie’s. He licks his lips. “What.” He doesn’t say it like a question.

“I wanted to be with you, Stevie. Always wanna be with you.” Eddie looks nervous now. He pulls at a rip in his jeans. “Do you… what do you think about that?”

“I, uh.” Steve’s mouth is suddenly dry, voice just a little hoarse. “I think it’s… good.”

“Good?” Eddie snorts. “You think it’s good? Gonna need a little more here, Steve.” Eddie still looks a little nervous, but his smile is starting to form again.

“Yeah, like. Really good.” Steve licks his lips again. “I always wanna be with you, too,” he adds softly.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, and he sounds vulnerable in a way that Steve’s never really heard before. He’s fully smiling again, small and soft, like maybe he can’t believe his luck.

Steve smiles back at him. “Yeah.”

And then they don’t say anything at all. Eddie crosses the small space between them and tackles Steve back against the couch. Their lips meet, soft at first. Then Steve let’s out a moan, opens his mouth under Eddie’s and the kisses turn decidedly less soft and more horny.

~*~

The next morning, Steve’s phone dings on his bedside table. He reaches over to read the screen.

Queen Robbie✨💕: love that u guys have figured ur shit out, but can we work out a system or something? i heard u [redacted] and then [redacted] and also [redacted]

Steve smiles before dropping his phone back on his bedside table and turning over in his bed. He pulls a sleeping Eddie into his arms and drops a tiny kiss to the back of Eddie’s neck. Eddie lets out a sleepy little moan. Steve could get used to waking up like this every morning.

———

An anonymous benefactor gifted me with lyrics from “Paper Rings” and here is what I’ve done with them.

Just two things: 1. I have never seen Ghost Adventures, but I imagine it would be one of the only shows both Robin and Eddie could agree on and 2. I have never listened to Tame Impala, I know nothing abt the music (beyond the fact that it’s just one guy??? see, I am hip and cool, gen z), so this is not intentional slander, I promise!!! It’s just the first thing I thought of.

Oh ETA: I also know nothing abt cars or what mechanics do, I assume they sometimes fix engines.

#steddie #MUTUALLY PINING FWBS IS MY NEW FAVORITE TROPE IM SO SERIOUS #idiots in love #steddie fic #steve harrington #idiots to lovers #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #steddie fic recs #taylor inspired steddie

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2rats1gogh · 27 days

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although i REALLY like the cast of HotD I can’t help but criticize the fact that they all are a little off for their canonical ages.

And it creates A LOT of problems.

Whenever I look at Olivia as Alicent my brain just cannot comprehend the fact that she is supposed to be the mother of Aegon, Aemond and Helaena. She looks like their older sister. I get that they were trying to go for the effect that “she was too young when she had her children” which is valid but still, she looks five years older than them at best. She is supposed to be almost 20 YEARS older than Aemond, yet in some shots of them together he looks like he’s older than her. It just makes it not really believable.

Rhaenyra is also supposed to be much much older than her siblings, yet they all also look just like three years apart. They don’t look like a woman in her mid to late thirties fighting with a man in his early twenties which is what it should’ve been. It takes away the drama and puts them on the same level.

Ewan Mitchell is amazing as Aemond but he looks so so much older than the actor who plays Luke. During Storm’s End, like many people have said, it actually looks like a grown ass man chasing a small kid, when the characters are supposed to be like four to five years apart. Where Luke is believable as a 14 year old, Aemond absolutely does NOT look 19.

Rhaenyra and Daemon also look fairly the same age because obviously there was no Daemon recast. They did a good job to make Paddy (Viserys) age throughout the years, but they kinda forgot to make Daemon age as well. And therefore Matt Smith looks the exact same in ep 1 and in ep 10, even tho these two episodes are like AT LEAST 20 years apart?? Matt Smith was in his early forties when they were filming, but by the end of season 1 Daemon is literally supposed to be in his mid to late fifties. The fact that Emma and Matt look around the same age, maybe having a 5 year age gap max, makes many people forget that they are two fully different generations of people, being around 20 years apart in the show, and hypothetically could’ve been father and daughter.

And obviously Laena. Other people have already talked about this, but I also find it super weird that the show tried to convince us that Laena went from (1) to (2) in like, i don’t know, two years maybe? And then after a timeskip of only like one decade, she suddenly looks like she aged 20 years? The actress is literally older than Emma, and Laena is supposed to be younger than Rhaenyra.

It just doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t really have a problem with changing some of the characters’ ages, but you have to consider casting the right actors as well. They did a fairly good job when adapting Game of Thrones, because they kinda aged up everyone and kept the same actors without having any timeskips. The only exceptions are probably characters like Brienne, because although I LOVE Gwendoline Christie, Brienne should’ve been a literal teenager.

#house of the dragon #hotd #team green #pro team green #anti team black #anti team black stans #hotd analysis #hotd critical #asoiaf #fire and blood #house targaryen

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loveyourownsmiilee · 2 months

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Hi!

I seem to be the only one who thinks Marisol is here to stay. They can’t just write her off like they supposedly did with Natalia and they seem to be keen introducing new LIs to find a match for Buck and Eddie. They’re at least four or five episodes into filming season 7 and Marisol is still around and has been on set quite a few times. Also Marisol seems to be a good match for Eddie as she’s Latina and they even made sure to show that Christopher’s happy with his dad dating and even went as far as to make him encourage his dad to call her. I think they’re laying the groundwork for a new Diaz family and Chris accepting someone new into his life because it just wouldn’t make sense to keep Eddie single forever. I’m curious to hear your thoughts about my theory.

Also I love your account!

Hello! Thank you for sharing your theory. I don’t necessarily agree with this theory for a few reasons. First the actress was only seen on set once when she posted. She just let us know she will be back for the season by sharing the trailer on her IG story. In order to make it believable, she and Eddie need to have legit chemistry with one another and from what we’ve seen, they’re severely lacking it. Chris didn’t seem excited to me he was just being a good sport and supporting his father. It didn’t scream “Yes we get to be a family together”! To me. And if that is the case, then the show HAS to some how distance Buck from the Diaz boys. Because he has been a part of their family unit for so long now and if they want to make Eddie dating anyone else believable, then they’re gonna have to establish Buck has just a friend they see sometimes and not a second parental figure in Christopher’s life. Like truly make us all believe Marisol is someone he can now trust the most with his son over Buck. All that to say is I still can’t seem to understand how she would even work in the long run. She doesn’t fit in with the whole team and we saw that same thing happen with Ana. Also Eddie doesn’t necessarily have to date a Latina for him to live happily ever after. If they truly do not have plans to make Buddie canon, then the least they can do is have Eddie be with someone who he has a lick of chemistry with and that bodes well with Christopher and the fire fam. I guess we’ll see how Marisol works out but I personally don’t think she’s here to stay. Plus the writers love repeating the same storyline for Eddie so this really does remind me of s5 and the whole Ana thing. Again these are just my own opinions of course. Not saying I’m right or wrong. I just politely don’t agree with this specific theory which is fine bc fandom is all about speculations and theorizing! Thank you for sharing!! 💜

#juju answers #corlan99 #911 speculation

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pendragonsclotpole · 7 months

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I need to preface this post with the fact that I’ve been aware of Supernatural for as long as I’ve known what the terms fanfiction and fandom mean. It’s one of those pop culture moments that’s existed on the periphery of my mind as something really beloved and bemoaned about by people on the internet, but it’s never been something I really cared about outside of some iconic memes.

For the past four days, I’ve been watching Supernatural non-stop in my free time. I think I sat through eight episodes straight on one of those days, and I just have to say, the show is phenomenal.

I don’t know where to start, I could make a dozen of these posts about various points throughout the first two seasons and it still wouldn’t be enough. I’ve now taken a break at episode one of season three, because now that it’s a weekday I have work and can’t dedicate the time I could on the weekend.

First, Jared Padalecki’s acting is so beautiful and poignant and emotional. He really makes Sam Winchester into the bleeding heart of the whole show, and the entire time he’s on screen I worry about Sam. His portrayal of Sam’s heartbreak and desperation at Dean’s impending death after the car crash, as well as Sam’s horror at the reveal of what John told Dean before dying held a tragic desperation and denial that really embodied what the character represented in the first two seasons. Even as a hunter and with his special abilities, Sam felt like a quasi self-insert for the audience. I don’t mean that in a bad or overly tropey way, but in the way that he felt robbed of a proper childhood in favor of his father’s crusade. Sam is the angry, indignant younger sibling who never bore the brunt of responsibility like the older sibling did and it shows. In some ways, it makes him more entitled—I don’t mean that Sam does not have the right to be angry with John Winchester. He does. Fuck John Winchester. I mean entitled in the unintentional, coincidental way that your little brother or sister always demands the things you never had or rebels against the authority of the parent without ever dealing with the consequences you did as the older sibling. It reveals the veneer of freedom he had and the protection he received by virtue of his place in the Winchester Family. For me, it made him unbearably real, and this feeling of realness was made worse by the genuine naivety and innocence he keeps even as he continually gets screwed over by the demons. There’s a steadfast belief in the goodness of others within Sam that often conflicts with the sense of goodness he believes he lacks.

Sam trusts so easily, but he understands people in ways that should be antithetical to his upbringing. It took me forever to reconcile why he seemed so familiar, until I realized that Sam Winchester, for all that he was one of John Winchester’s son, had received the unconditional love of an older sibling for his entire childhood.

I don’t mean the perfect, kind, healthy love that often exists between fictional siblings. Too often I’ve watched media that makes me wonder how siblings like that even exist, or conversely, made me glad my siblings weren’t so fucked up.

I mean the kind of platonic love that exists between siblings living in the liminal space of love and hate thanks to the single fucked up connection that draws them back together continuously out of some sense of duty or commiseration or the need to be understood.

I mean the kind of love between siblings that would wither away when in a perfect world that does not stake their survival on their codependence of each other, but that in an imperfect and real world is equated to familiarity. Sam and Dean against the world—against John Winchester.

Out of all of the episodes I’ve watched in the last day and a half, perhaps the one that struck me most was episode 20, Season 2. What is and What Should Never Be. Not only was the title a bit of emotional whiplash—the juxtaposition of Should and Never lending a finality or a sense of wrongness that can’t be replicated by the words “Could Never—but we see Dean and Sam in a world where their one connection, hunting, has completely vanished and at a high cost to all the people they’ve saved, but mostly to Sam and Dean themselves. They’re connection as ride or die brothers is gone, replaced by an ostensibly better, healthier, more normal future liberated from the expectations of the rest of the world.

Without the death of Mary Winchester, Dean and Sam are no longer Dean and Sam. They’re just two people, connected by the two people that raised them, and likely to drift apart after that connection dies—frayed ends of a tapestry pulling apart and unraveling. Dean gains a mom and a normal life, but metaphorically loses a brother and a sense of purpose. Who is Dean Winchester if he’s not a hunter and Sam’s brother? And the sad thing is, neither of these are traits Dean ever chose. They are conditions foisted upon him, perhaps not intentionally, such as in the case of Sam, but ultimately placed on his soul until they tethered themselves to the very core of what being Dean Winchester is supposed to mean. The end of the episode, and Dean’s choice to return to the real world, regardless of Sam waking him up, is Dean fully giving up his dream in order to save Sam and be a hunter. The fallacy of the episode is in the choice Dean makes, which the more I think about it, feels less like a choice and more of an inevitability but one compounded by Dean’s readiness and willingness to go with it.

This is where I get to the crux of my surprise with these first early seasons of Supernatural: Dean Motherfucking Winchester.

I don’t know what I was expecting from early seasons of Supernatural, especially with the context of the later seasons. Maybe an overly cheesy, early 2000s ode to roadtrip Americana with a self-reverential take on the classic gun slinging frontiersman of the Wild West and bad supernatural CGI. Not to say it isn’t that (shout out to Sam’s comment on Dean’s particular brand of butch), but what surprised me was how real the connection between the characters was manifested on screen and how much good will the show built up in the audience. There came a point where I sided with Dean so much in the events of the show that I felt like I was riding shotgun in the impala. I saw it with every compliant “yes, sir” he gave to John, with every teasing comment he threw at Sam, and with every act of selflessness he exhibited by protecting other people. This isn’t to say that Dean is perfect. Sometimes he doesn’t take things seriously enough, or he’s willing to sacrifice people for some misguided greater good, or he’s obsessed with saving Sam even when he wouldn’t be if it were anyone else, but Dean has a conviction so many people lack. He has the capacity to love at a great cost to himself, either because he believes himself unworthy of being loved or because he’s not used to anything else.

Jensen Ackles does such a good job at this portrayal and with such a different technique than Jared Padalecki. Ackles embodies the desperate need for self-assuredness that Dean breathes, as well as the genuine fear he has of being seen. I love laughing with Dean as much as I love screaming at him for how stupid he’s being. If Sam is the self-insert, then Dean is the tragic hero, although that comparison feels like a poor facsimile for what Dean Winchester truly is because I don’t particularly feel an overwhelming sense of pity at his state or at his hinted downfall with that demon deal. If anything, I feel a sense of indignation mixed with understanding and frustration that Dean can’t catch a break but at the end of it all, is just how he prefers it.

It shouldn’t be a shock to admit that even without knowing what happens from seasons 3 to 15, I know how Supernatural ends. Just thinking about the ending makes me wonder if I should even continue it past season 5, but that’s a decision for another time.

For now, there’s something unbearably tragic in seeing Dean Winchester so close to a chance of a normal life and apple pie happiness (something he really seems to desire no matter how much he denies it) and then having to give it up, not just because it’s not real, but because he believes it should never be real.

Dean Winchester deserves better.

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural season 1 #supernatural season 2 #supernatural season 3 #dean winchester deserved better #dean winchester deserves better #sam and dean #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #character study

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trips2saturn · 2 months

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TOWL SPOILERS BELOW!!!!!!

enough time has passed and i’m impatient so here it is. episode two debriefing! ❤️‍🔥

danai and andy’s chemistry is unparalleled and has never been executed so well before by any other actors. their words, emotions, and energy into bringing these characters to life in such a tender way is something absolutely so enigmatic and goshshfgshdhsn i just love them. i love their dynamic and their power to create such an immaculate foundation that will always be such a memorable piece for all of us as fans of this franchise. 🫶🏼

michonne and nat deserved more time. point blank period. i sobbed violently and had to pause the episode for ten minutes. i loved his dynamic with michonne and how much impact his character had in under 40 minutes of screen time. missing him forever and ever. and not to be an asshole but their relationship is what the dude-bros wanted rick and okafor’s association to be ! tell me i’m wrong.

dana from a group of 40 people with her sister el. yaaaas go girl! she’s a b your honor please believe her!!! she’s totally not a badass powerhouse wife and mother of two who’s experienced more in her life than the crm ever have!!!

it’s FUCK the crm forever actually. CHLORINE GAS? killing the pregnant lady and her boyfriend???? im distraught. the most disgusting group of people to ever exist apart from the saviors. hoping to see their entire base burn to the ground by the end of this series !!!! <3

RICHONNE REUNITING AFTER CHOOSING TO GIVE UP HOPE TO FIND EACH OTHER 😭😭😭 the universe loves them soooo much they’re like this 🤞 when it comes to fate. i am still actively emotional over all of their scenes. they’re sooo in love with each other it hurts. i’m still on cloud nine just from seeing them kiss (and moan omg!) so excuse me. ❤️‍🩹

michonne cradling rick’s face and rick nuzzling into her hands? THAT IS HER BABY POOKIE SUGAR PLUM CRISP. keep them together! they cannot be separated!

jadis can die with all due disrespect. she ruined everything. it’s been her fault since the start. she separated them. she’s the reason that rj doesn’t know his father and only knows of his legendary stories. fuck her. d*e!

rick asking about jude multiple times :((( his baby. bring him home to his kids PLEASE. must’ve been such a shocker to hear him ask about his daughter and not daryl or negan oh no! abused, kidnapped father finds the love of his life and wants to make sure that their daughter is still okay after being away from her for a decade! SHOCKER! WOW. this is shocking news! 🙀

the scenes of michonne and nat having to rebuild their health after the chlorine gas bomb was so heartbreaking but powerful. michonne working out and continuing to push herself by being reminded of her strength, grief, and love. she is so strong and i’m so proud of her. i hate the crm.

“shoto? shoto?” PUNCHING ME IN THE GUT WOULD HURT LESS. meanwhile judith is also trying to reach out but their signal is too far gone for them to do so. 😭 pleaseeee i just need one future scene of them reuniting. michonne loves them so much she is the best mother ever. ❤️‍🩹

okay!!!!! that’s all that i have for now. still collecting my thoughts after this episode but i love my tv parents more than life. so happy to have them back and i can’t wait for the next four episodes!!!!!!!

#trips talks #towl spoilers #the ones who live #the walking dead #rick grimes #richonne #michonne grimes

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major-mads · 3 months

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Chapter 3: Listen to Your Heart

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: I'm so glad y'all are enjoying the series!! Thank you so much for reading!! Us Callum girlies sure got some...cough cough...quality content in episode four, that's for sure! Let me know what you think, and go read the other half of the story using the link below!!! this wonderful gif is by @zsuo!

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 4.7k

August 3rd, 1943

Ruthie, Since Saturday night, you have rarely left my mind. I replay the dance in my head, trying to commit every detail to memory. I love being around you, Ruth. I couldn’t imagine the night going any better than it did, and I’m so glad that you stepped outside of your comfort zone to come with me. Curt’s been giving me a hard time about embarrassing you when I sang, but I told him you loved it, even if I sound like a “dying animal” in Buck’s words. Speaking of Buck, I’ve decided to never let him live down Saturday’s condom incident with Hope. Hugh sure isn’t letting it go, so I can’t help but join in on the fun. Despite that, I think he had a great time with her, even though he’s a total stick in the mud. I can’t believe they didn’t dance, Ruthie! Our dance was my favorite part of the night, besides how we said goodnight, of course.

I would really like to see you again soon, Ruth. It’s no secret that I’m taken with you, and I think you feel the same. We’re spending the next few weeks replacing crews and forts, so we won’t be too busy. If you’re able, please stop by and pay me a visit. At the sight of your sweet, kind smile, and the feeling of your hand in mine, my worries seem to disappear. The only worry left in my mind is that my efforts to convert you to a Yankees fan won’t be successful. I hold onto the hope that you’ll see that the Braves are terrible and that the Yankees are the better team. The Braves went 11 and 18 this past month, and my amazing team went 21 and 11. You can’t argue against stats, slugger. I hope this won’t affect your feelings toward me because then we might have a problem. I can’t wait to see you again soon. Please stay safe up there for me. Your Hotshot, Johnny Egan

August 6th, 1943

Dear John, I am happy to hear that you and the boys are finally getting a break. When we were at the dance, I knew y’all were exhausted, but you sure didn’t show it, Major. You danced and sang like there was no tomorrow, and I had more fun than I had in a long while in your arms. Don’t worry about what Curt or Buck said. I loved your singing, even if it was slightly off-key and very loud. You might have embarrassed me, but seeing you in your element was worth it. Every time I think back to that night, my heart begins to race and I can’t help but smile at the thought of you. I’m so very grateful that you decided to bring me along. Somehow you manage to turn me into a giddy, blushing teenager every time you cross my mind. Our kiss is a cherished memory of mine, and forgive me for being forward, but I hope that we can make more of such memories in the future. Hope had an amazing time with Gale at the dance, and apparently, he wasn’t as much of a “stick in the mud” as you think. I’m sworn to secrecy, but know that they are very fond of each other already. When we got back to Grove the day after the dance, we told Frank what happened with…the incident, and he thought it was hilarious! He even said that he “did his job well,” whatever that means. I would love nothing more than to come see you, but sadly, I don’t know when I’ll be able. Casualties from Italy are getting worse with the invasion of Sicily underway, and we’ve been on runs almost every day since we got back from the dance. Regardless of this, the first chance we get, Hope and I will make our way up to Thorpe Abbotts. I can’t wait to see you again, Johnny, but the blatant slander against the Braves might damage your chances of getting another kiss. We’ll just have to agree to disagree on this because I promise you I am not going to be converted. After all, a little friendly rivalry never hurt anyone, right? Don’t hurt yourself falling off your bike during your break. Yours, Ruth Morgan P.S. I would like to meet Meatball the next time I visit the base!

Sunday, August 8th, 1943: Thorpe Abbotts AAF Base, Norwich

The mess hall buzzed with energy as Buck and Johnny sat at breakfast with Curt, who slowly moved his powdered eggs around on his plate with his fork.

“I can’t eat this shit anymore,” he groaned, pushing the plate away from him.

John took a slow sip of his “coffee,” raising an eyebrow at the man. “Then don’t eat it.”

“Oh wow,” Biddick quipped. “What a great idea, Bucky. I’d never thought of that.”

The major smirked behind his mug and shot his friend a wink. Buck watched on in amusement, used to the two going back and forth as he and John did.

Leaning his elbows on the table, Curt leaned over the table toward John with a teasing glare. “Have you heard anything from Ruthie? Has she mentioned me? I thought I made a good first impression the other night.”

“Hmm,” Johnny hummed, pursing his lips for a moment before pointing at Biddick. “That’s Nurse Morgan to you, you dodo. I’m surprised you even remember anything from the dance with how drunk you were.”

“Oh I couldn’t forget a face like that,” he chuckled.

John’s eyes narrowed playfully as he clasped his hands together and leaned on the table. “Well it’s a good thing for me that she could forget yours, then,” he clapped back. “And you’re not the one she kissed goodnight.”

Buck rolled his eyes and continued to eat his breakfast as Egan’s loud, wide-mouthed cackle echoed through the mostly quiet mess hall. Curt then turned to Gale with a raised brow. “How about Hope-”

“Nope,” Buck interrupted calmly, raising his cup and taking a sip of his steaming coffee.

The other two men watched him as a tiny grin formed on the Major’s lips. Although he didn’t talk about it much, they could tell Buck had already developed deep feelings for the woman.

Raising his eyebrows at Curt, John grinned. “Oh boy.”

“You’ve got it bad, Buck,” Biddick laughed, his hand landing on Gale’s shoulder roughly. “You gotten a reply to your letter yet?”

Thinking of the perfectly folded letter from Ruth he’d picked up that morning sitting in his breast pocket, John smiled down at his food, warmth spreading through him at the thought of the blonde. Buck, however, pursed his lips and shook his head at the question.

“I actually haven’t written her yet,” he sighed, running a hand down his face. “I want-”

“What!?” Johnny all but yelled, his eyes widening as coffee almost spewed from his mouth. “Why the hell not, Buck? I already sent one to Ruth and got a response.”

Gale groaned and put down his fork with a clink. “Because of Hugh.”

“Why are you so worried about Charlie?” Curtis asked, wearing a confused expression.

“Because he’s in my squadron. And he’s her brother.”

John pointed and leaned over the table at him. “Hope’s a big girl, Buck. She can make her own decisions. Screw what Hugh says.”

“But-” Gale started but was once again cut off by Bucky.

“He’s gonna hate you even more if he thinks you're leading her on. You not sending Hope a letter isn’t making anything better,” he said, a smirk beginning to tug at his lips as he continued. “On top of the condom situation.”

John and Curt busted out into chuckles as Buck just groaned, closing his eyes tightly. “Oh, please don’t remind me.”

The ideal chatter was disturbed by the door to the mess hall swinging back on its hinges with a crash, followed by heavy footfall as Hugh all but stormed through the building like a tornado. He snatched a mug off a table and poured himself a steaming cup of black coffee before marching past the trio, staring daggers at Gale who looked up worriedly from his breakfast.

Curt’s eyes followed the man as he walked in, muttering under his breath, “Speak of the devil.”

"Good morning to you, too, Sparky," John called out with a small wave as he walked by, only to be met with deafening silence from the other pilot.

Hugh's harsh glare was burning a hole in the back of Gale’s skull and he thought any second now he’d come into his brain and it would be lights out.

“You’ve really pissed him off this time, Buck, and you didn’t even get his sister into bed,” John laughed heartily, taking a long swig from his whiskey and coffee, it was most likely more whiskey than coffee but Gale humored him.

“Will you give it a rest? I’m already getting it from Hugh without your added input,” Gale stabbed aggressively at his scrambled eggs, willing the eyes of the room to stop looking at him.

Curt snorted beside him, waving his fork around. “Well, I’m telling you boys, if I’d have had Hope in my arms and she’d bought condoms with her, let’s just say she wouldn’t have been going back home with them.”

That was the final straw.

Gale slammed his fist down on the table, ignoring the way Johnny jumped in his seat, spilling his coffee over the table, and the way several chunks of his scrambled egg disappeared onto the floor.

“You say anymore slander about my girl, Biddick and I swear…”

“Your girl, Buck?” John raised his right eyebrow, an amused smirk on his lips as his mustache twitched. “She’s your girl and you haven’t even written her yet?”

Sometimes Gale wished he could rip that stupid mustache off John’s face, but he kept his cool.

It would seem that Hugh had heard the whole commotion. His chair screeching back from the table, he stomped up between the tables once more, his glare never leaving Gale until the door slammed shut behind him.

Buck groaned, unsure if it was in relief or at the impending doom that he was likely to suffer if this debacle continued. Without a second thought, he excused himself from the table, ignoring the calls of protest from John and Curt, and hurried after Hugh.

“Hugh! Hugh, wait up. Please, I want to talk to you,” Gale jogged after the tall brunette whose face turned sour the instant he noticed him.

The door quickly closed behind him, and Curt looked at the major across from him with a guilty expression. “I was just joking, Bucky. I would never-”

“Ahh don’t worry about it,” John said as he sipped on his coffee. “He knows that. Like you said, Buck’s got it bad and this thing with Hugh has been eating at him since Saturday.”

Biddick nodded to himself, his eyes lingering on the door. “Do you think Hugh’ll let it go?”

“For Buck’s sake, I do…I think he will. Doesn’t mean I won’t still rag Buck about it, though.”

“Yeah,” Curt mumbled, staring down at his plate.

Neither man spoke for a few moments, each lost in their thoughts until Bucky wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up. “I’ve got a letter to write. See you later, Curt.”

“I never thought I’d live to see the day,” Biddick replied. “Bucky Egan writing a love letter. Looks like Buck isn’t the only one who’s got it bad.”

John tugged his white-fleece jacket back into place and chuckled at his friend. “Don’t go all soft on me.”

“I think it suits you, John. Really,” he urged, a soft smile on his lips. “You seem happier.”

Staring at him for a moment, Bucky didn’t quite know how to respond. He felt happier. He had something to look forward to other than getting drunk at the bar or the adrenaline rush he got when the sound of .50 cal brownings echoed through his fort. John placed his cap back on his head, and with a curt nod, turned toward the door.

His tie suddenly became too tight around his throat as he pushed through the doors into the cool English air, and he quickly loosened it, letting it hang limply as he took a deep breath. In that moment, John Egan had a profound realization.

Since he came over to England in May, he had been simply going through the motions, replaying the same days over and over: Wake up…Fly forts…Bomb targets…Get drunk…Show a woman a good time…then start the cycle again the next day. For someone with such a passionate personality, he lacked the feeling that he so deeply desired. Curt could vouch for this, being the one to knock some feeling back into him a few months back on the wing of Mugwump.

But since that day in July when the nurses landed on their small base in East Anglia, feeling had slowly been creeping back into his life. He first felt it when Ruth caught him staring, and was soon captivated by her dimpled smile and capable personality. The numbness that had become so familiar to him faded into the background when she was near, her laughter shaking free his heart a little more each time it left her lips.

He was alive with Ruth. More alive than he felt when ME-109s whizzed past him or when flack shook his fort. More alive than when he unbuttoned a woman’s dress and laid her down. More alive than the burning sensation that traveled down his throat when he downed another shot at the bar.

Over the past few weeks, the blonde nurse had somehow burrowed into his jaded exterior and broken down the walls he didn’t even know existed.

John’s mind reeled as he silently mounted his bike and rode to the base HQ. The ride passed in a blur, and before he knew it, he was sitting at his desk, staring down at the blank sheet of paper before him. He hadn’t had a problem writing her before, so why was this any different?

How was he supposed to convey such profound feelings in a letter?

He started simply, letting his mind imagine her there beside him.

“Dear Ruth.”

Thursday, August 12, 1943: Termini Imerese, Sicily, Italy

“You ready girls!” Frank called over his shoulder, glancing as Hope and Ruth took the stretcher from the medics below them and loaded the last wounded soldier onto the rack. Hope pulled out her flight manifest and checked off the final patient to board. The young boy reached out, grasping her hand.

“Nurse,” his voice cracking as he tried to grab her attention. He was so young, barely eighteen years old. His bright blue eyes, glossy and hazy, gazed up at her.

“Yes, My Love,” Hope crouched down, clasping the boy's hand in one of hers while her other brushed away his brunette locks from his face. She tried to stop her eyes from drifting down his body to where only stumps of his legs remained, the burnt flesh wrapped neatly in crisp bandages.

“You’re an angel,” he whispered and Hope smiled sweetly at him, squeezing his hand. “When I write home, I’m gonna tell my Momma ‘bout you.”

A single tear trickled down her cheek and she leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and watching until he drifted off to sleep. His delicate, young features were no longer etched with worry, and the hard lines across his forehead softened as the morphine began to take effect.

Hope turned, watching as Ruth comforted one of the other young men further down the plane who had managed to remove some of his bandages.

“Hey, don’t do that, you need those,” Ruth tutted quietly, helping the Private sit up a little so she could secure fresh, white bandages around his bloody arm. The poor boy grumbled under his breath as Ruth tucked in the end. “Now leave ‘em be, okay?”

The young boy nodded, shifting uncomfortably in his cot. They weren’t the most comfortable racks, just cool metal bars lining the hammock-like beds that swayed as the C-47 rocked through the sky.

Hope took her seat beside Ruth, who had finished trying to redress the soldier's wounds, smiling briefly at her friend, who wore the same exhausted expression she did.

“I can’t wait to get back to the Grove. I need a warm bath and my bed,” Ruth mumbled, stretching out her aching muscles that screamed against the tension in her body.

“Oh don’t say that, Rue. We’ve still got to drop these poor boys off at the hospital in Mateur.” Ruth just groaned in response.

The dance with the boys had been their last outing in a while. It was the last time Hope hadn’t felt completely exhausted. She’d been relaxed, able to let go, and safe in Gale’s arms.

This trip had been hard. The plane was at full capacity and when they arrived on the airfield at Termini Imerese, Sicily, they were instantly thrown into action. The girls disappeared into the makeshift hospitals that lined the airfield, the white tents flapping in the harsh wind that did little to cool the heat from the scorching midday sun.

Hope and Ruth conferred with the surgeons, assessing and stabilizing patients that were safe to fly, meaning that many of the young men with head injuries or who had suffered significant blood loss would be unable to fly due to the unpressurized aircraft cabins. Many of the men didn’t have emergency medical tags, so the girls had to make their own assessments for many of the patients.

The thrumming roar of the C-47’s engine erupting to life always brought a great sense of comfort to Hope, along with an impending sense of fear in unison. This job, while rejuvenating her youth through the exhilarating flights and the lives they saved, aged her with each passing moment spent in the air, because after every successful landing she was left with the feeling that although they had saved lives, they couldn’t save them all. This weighed heavily on both of the women.

Frank and his fellow pilot chatted hastily in the cockpit, their muffled voices cracking through over the radio. As soon as the plane leveled out Hope and Ruth stood, each taking a side of the plane and beginning the checkups on their patients, recording their temperature, pulse, and respiration as well as checking there was no strike through of blood from their dressings. The girls worked quickly, only conferring on their patients' conditions.

It always amazed Hope how quickly their work changed them, on the flight over Ruth had been once again telling her about the letter she’d received from John. Hope feared she could probably quote Ruth’s letter herself by now, but she never complained, pleased that Ruth was finally coming out of herself.

Hope had her own letter from Gale tucked into her top overall pocket, over her heart. His words burned into her flesh and she felt as though he was right there beside her all along.

Having dropped off the soldiers at the large US hospital in Mateur, Tunisia, the C-47 headed home. The mood was somber as the large metal bird rattled its way across Europe towards England.

Ruth’s eyes had closed about half an hour before, and Hope didn’t have the heart to wake her up. She looked so peaceful, the wrinkles that normally appeared when she smiled were smoothed away, and her blonde locks fell softly from where she had so lovingly pinned them that very morning.

Hope took Gale’s letter out of her pocket, smoothing out the creases that had poked around the edge of the page. Words of affirmation sprung out at her and a smile was instantly cemented to her lips as she relieved the last moments with him.

The flight home always seemed quicker, and soon ‘The Angel of Death’ was touching down on the runway. Hope helped a rather sleepy Ruth off the plane and waved goodnight to Frank, who chuckled in amusement at the blonde’s incoherent murmurs, some of them sounding an awful lot like the name of her beloved major.

“Goodnight Ladies.”

“Come on, Rue. Let’s get you home,” Hope wrapped her arm around her sleepy friend, leading the way to the Nissan huts they were billeted in.

Some of the other nurses were still stationed in Africa and so they currently had the hut to themselves. Hope lay Ruth down on the bed, smiling as she snuggled closer into the pillow.

So much for a warm bath…

Hope would rag her about it later, but she couldn’t deny that the stress of the day was getting to her too, but something restless kept her from falling into her own bed. Instead, Hope sat at the small desk in the corner, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen. She pulled Gale’s crumpled letter from her pocket, smoothed it flat onto the desk, and began writing her reply.

The following day, the girls finally had a day off, and as much as they wanted to make the trip up to Thorpe Abbotts, the nurses were so exhausted that they barely got out of bed.

“What time is it?” Ruth groaned, turning onto her side to hide from the bright sun peeking through the curtains.

Getting no response, she cracked her eyes open, and a smile tugged at her lips at the sight before her. In the corner of the room, Hope’s cheek lay smushed against the desktop, her messy black hair splayed around her as she slept soundly. The corner of a paper could just barely be seen under her hair, and Ruth immediately knew what she’d fallen asleep doing.

Sighing softly, she pulled back her covers and padded over to Hope, wincing at the sting of her feet against the cold floors. “Hope,” Ruth whispered, rubbing the woman’s shoulder gently. “Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

She awoke slowly, allowing the blonde to sit her up off the desk. “Five more minutes,” Hope mumbled.

Ruth chuckled, the sound echoing through the silent hut. Luckily, Hope’s bed was directly beside the desk, so the smaller woman didn’t have to maneuver her around too much to get her onto the mattress.

Gently laying her extra blanket over her best friend, Ruth smiled down at her. “There you go. Snug as a bug.”

She then walked over to her bed and snuggled under the covers again, but not before closing their blackout curtains, causing darkness to envelop the room once again. The warmth drew her back into her peaceful slumber, her eyes fluttering closed as her mind repeated Johnny’s latest letter:

Sunday, August 8th, 1943

Dear Ruth, I can’t wait to see you again. I know I said that in my last letter, but I’ve recently discovered that absence actually does make the heart grow fonder. I find myself waiting in anticipation for your letters the moment I send off my own, and I long to see you…to have you here next to me. Hopefully, your missions will ease soon and you’ll finally get a break, too. I understand how tiring it can be to fly day after day, and that’s without even having to take care of patients. Please take care of yourself, alright? As much as I would love to see you, please rest if you get the chance. Don’t worry about me. We’ll see each other soon enough. Today Buck finally wrote Hope back. I tried to tell him how stupid it was to wait, but he was adamant about getting Hugh’s approval. He’s a bigger man than I am, Ruth. Regardless of this, we can never let him live the incident down…ever. In response to your threat to withhold your affection from me, I say bring it on. Like I said before, you can’t argue with facts. The Yankees are the better team, and I’m going to convince you of that, so I cannot agree to disagree. I’m too stubborn to let you win, and if I’m being honest, I don’t know if you’ll be able to resist my charming personality…or the mustache. I know you love the mustache, Ruth. If you decide to follow through on your threat, I’ll shave it off. Just for you. Don’t stand between a man and kisses from his girl. It doesn’t end well for anyone. But it’s like you said, a little friendly rivalry never hurt anyone, right? Please be safe, Ruthie, and know I am thinking of you. Yours, John Egan

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Hope! Ruth! You alive in there?” a voice hollered through the hut’s door, rousing Ruth for the second time that morning. She opened her mouth to reply, but Hope beat her to it.

“Go away, Frank!” she groaned, covering her ears with her pillow.

“It’s almost noon,” the man chuckled. “I know you’re tired but you both need to get up. We’ve got stuff to do.”

Sitting up abruptly, Ruth grabbed her watch off her small side table, her eyes widening when she read 11:43 am. She looked over to Hope who was also staring at her watch in utter disbelief.

“I haven’t slept in this much since I was a teenager,” Hope muttered under her breath before turning to Ruth, almost breaking into a fit of laughter at the blonde’s wonky curls from the day before. “We look terrible.”

Frank pounded his fist against the door, yelling, “Get up!”

“WE ARE!!” They both hollered back, unable to keep the frustration from lacing their voices.

Throwing off her covers, Hope stood to her feet and marched over to the door, swinging it open. Ruth clamored quickly out of bed to follow her, stopping right behind her shoulder as they glared at Frank. His eyes scanned the women before him, and a grimace appeared on his face at their ragged appearances.

“Okay,” he started, raising his hands in surrender. “Go back to sleep. You look like shit, and I’d rather do things on the plane by myself than deal with your grumpy attitudes.”

They narrowed their eyes at him. “Nope. We’re awake now,” Hope retorted, smiling sweetly at him.

Sighing, Frank stepped back from the door with a barely concealed smirk. “Meet me at the hardstand.”

As Hope shut the door, Ruth flopped back on her bed, her eyes following Hope’s figure walking across the room to the desk in the corner. “How’s Gale?” she asked, propping her head up with her hand.

Hope began to neatly fold up the letter, smiling softly as she talked over her shoulder. “He’s good. Said he didn’t write because of Hugh causing problems, but he’s got his blessing now.” She turned toward Ruth with dusty pink cheeks, giggling to herself. “He even signed his last letter with ‘your Gale.’”

“Hope!” Ruth squealed, sitting up and covering her mouth with her hands. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve someone like Gale, and I’m sure Hugh sees how much he adores you.”

Hope looked down at the letter in her hands, her heart swelling at the thought of the man. “He’s amazing,” she whispered as her eyes traced over his name on the paper. After a few moments, she shook her head, seemingly clearing her thoughts, and raised an eyebrow at Ruth. “How’s John?”

It was now Ruth’s turn to blush, the tips of her ears heating up at the mention of the major. “Great…amazing…wonderful. I feel like I’ve known him so much longer than a few weeks, Hope. You know how I can get sometimes, but when I’m with him, I don’t feel nearly as anxious. And when he kissed me…I wished it could’ve lasted forever. I can’t wait to see him again.”

Sighing softly, Hope plopped down onto her bed. “Look at us, Rue. We’re like a bunch of lovesick teenagers.”

“Yeah, we are,” Ruth giggled, her mind replaying her and John’s laughter, soft touches, and tender looks from the dance. The way he held her face so delicately, how his lips-

“Come on,” Hope called, her mattress squeaking as she got up, breaking Ruth from her thoughts. “Let’s get ready so we can go annoy Frank.”

Tag List: @xxluckystrike @precious-little-scoundrel @bcofl0ve @violetdaze25 @docroesmorphine @kmc1989 @gfofsadie @artlover8992 @karashaw99 @dustyjumpwjngs @camicanos-blog @storysimp @b00ks1ut @sunny747 @leopard-skin-pillbox-hat-ok @yoongiscxr @blueberry-ovaries @sidneysidney123

message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list! <3

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cocogum · 2 months

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There’s something off about Yugo now.

‼️ SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 ‼️

LEAVE AT THE WARNING IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE FIRST FOUR EPISODES.

Way before 2024 hit, when Tot was still teasing us with some snippets of Season 4 on Twitter, there was a time when one of his tweets made some people think about what he meant.

The specific tweet was made on the 10th of January of 2023 at 5:10 AM which showed a small scene of Yugo once said that THIS scene in particular was going to change Yugo forever

Here’s the full translation:

“Season 4 of Wakfu is going well my friends…Here’s a small snippet of Yugo that makes me want to cry. 🥲”

We didn’t know at the time what he could’ve meant by that or what that specific scene that saddened him was even about.

But now that Wakfu Season 4 is out, we were able to watch that same scene that happened in episode 3.

And omg it makes perfect sense now.

In his tweet where he addressed his feelings for the scene, Tot specified that this moment would be the last time we see Yugo, the last scene before saying goodbye.

Some people, back when the tweet was still recent, thought Tot might have been implying that Yugo would actually die or possibly gain his adult form through this scene where he’s surrounded by his mother’s blue hues.

But now that we’ve watched the actual episode where this same scene Tot was talking about took place, we can all finally confirm that neither of those two things happened.

Because what happened ended up being far worse than that.

Yes, what’s worse than Yugo dying or growing up to an alarming speed is nothing compared to what actually happened :

Yugo’s mindset changed.

When Yugo met the Eliatrope goddess for the first time (in this life at least), he explicitly told her that he does not know her, therefore, he cannot sympathize with what she’s saying to him. Yugo could see how she was crying when she told him, Nora, and Qilby she missed them as well as her other children and that she promises them she wouldn’t be away from them any longer.

Yugo doesn’t react to this, only Nora and Qilby truly understand the power behind her words.

But as soon as the Eliatrope goddess puts Yugo to rest for a while, the moment he wakes up was as if he changed his mind completely.

He claims that his mother is the purest of the pure and that she’s so perfect that she can’t express any negative emotions. Keep this in mind for later.

He truly believes what he’s saying and cannot fathom the fact that she may be imperfect in some ways.

His mind did a complete 360 to the point where he immediately joins the Eliatrope goddess, Nora, and Qilby’s cause. He changed his mind so quickly that even Nora noticed and brought it up.

When the assembly began, Yugo was proud of showing up first to welcome his mother and he proudly stated her arrival to the rulers. He had even told Joris that he insisted on being as forward as possible to the rulers and to welcome his mother appropriately.

Now, remember when I stated that Yugo does not believe that the Eliatrope goddess can express any negative emotions?

Well, it turns out he was wrong.

Not even a full hour passed, and the Eliatrope goddess was already in a full confrontation with one of the rulers, the queen of Bonta, Astra. When someone, especially a higher being, is claimed to be a pure being with no flaws, it usually means that they cannot even fathom the idea of expressing a negative emotion or struggling to keep it in.

But the reason why this scene was just so important to focus on was because THIS is supposed to be the goddess of love, the goddess that represents purity (no wonder people were beings suspicious of her. How are you gonna be called the embodiment of ‘love’ and yet express something that is out of your agenda?)

So the reason why we need to focus on this moment, is because the goddess hesitated.

This is what makes Yugo’s claims about her being perfect completely wrong.

And since his declarations were very much flawed, his current way of thinking can only mean one thing :

Something has gone wrong.

From what we’ve been able to witness from his slumber, Yugo was able to see how he and his siblings were created by their mother, how their original planet came to be, how their mother got thrown aside, banished by the other gods and ended up in the Necroworld, and how she got saved by Nora and Efrim.

To us, this sequence must’ve probably lasted for about three minutes or so but to Yugo, this moment lasted far longer than that. He must’ve seen the details, heard a lot of recrimination from the other gods, and seen his mother’s suffering from being cast aside. All of this pain and suffering that she must’ve felt was what made Yugo side with her and her cause.

But as much as his sudden want to be closer to her makes sense, it doesn’t mean that Yugo’s portrayal of his mother is true. Anyone can tell that the Eliatrope goddess had broken a very important major rule: DO NOT use a planet for yourself. She had betrayed the trust of the other gods without any explanation other than wanting to have children and making a world for herself.

Yugo saw it all and yet he did not think that she made a mistake. He does not care if she went against the other gods (creating a world for herself), he does not care if she wants to monitor the world (she has told this in front of all the authorities of the world), he does not care if she wants to infuse vigilantism (again, she told this in front of the leaders of the world), and he does not care if all the commanders of the world do not side with her ideas (he deliberately chose to follow her as soon as she left the assembly).

But it seems like even when he was not, at the time, sleeping under her energy, he didn’t care if people with bad intentions got paralyzed for some undetermined amount of time as punishment (he was watching Nora and Adamaï fight the rogues). That could have been an early hint that he would do much more than just stand aside and not say anything in matters like these but rather silently do what his mother wishes to do.

Since he embraces everything that she is, he embraces everything that she wants to do or has done.

Another thing I should mention is the fact that ever since he woke up, he started calling the Eliatrope goddess “mother”, implying that he now felt completely comfortable with knowing and understanding that she was truly his creator, mother.

As you can see, every time he addresses her, it’s always by calling her his mother, which is factually true, but again, he has just met her and is already completely enamoured by her. His admiration and respect towards her makes sense because he has seen everything that she’s been through while sleeping.

The problem is that even when he considers her perfect, he doesn’t seem to understand that the people around her (besides Nora and Qilby) DO NOT agree with her plans.

Yugo does not understand why Adamaï left because his intuition was telling him that something was very wrong about all of this (even though Yugo wasn’t too convinced by the Eliatrope goddess, he was still taking a neutral side at the time. Even though he didn’t completely understand his mother at that moment, this still counts as an event where Yugo did not think about the Eliatrope goddess’s ways even when his brother told him something was off. Also, if Yugo did see his mother’s suffering at that moment, he would have still most likely sided with her.)

Yugo also does not understand what the leaders are trying to say and how right they are (even though they have mistreated the Eliatrope goddess in the process). One of them, the queen of Bonta, makes very good points that the goddess should have answered and explained.

But instead of taking a moment to think about it or try to at least think about how the rulers are feeling right now, Yugo simply leaves them and goes right back to the goddess.

This is a very surprising decision of his because Yugo has lived his entire life in the World of Twelve. He has not only lived here but has met a lot of different people, gone through life and death for them, saved numerous victims and fought off enemies for them, and did all that in the same world where he is currently turning his back to the very rulers of it.

Tot wasn’t wrong when he said Yugo wouldn’t be the same.

And we’re starting to see it.

It’s becoming more obvious and I’m sure that at some point, there could be another fight between Yugo and Adamaï happening, or perhaps even a misunderstanding.

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t00muchheart · 1 month

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Jump the Shark is SUCH an interesting look at John Winchester and Sam’s & Dean’s relationships with him via how they respond to Adam’s existence both initially and after accepting that he’s really their brother !

It also just says so much about where they’re at currently—Sam seeing hunting as a life that can’t be escaped, only prepared for (because he tried to escape and now he’s facing a destiny); Dean wanting to send Adam away from the hunt to Bobby’s (the safest place he can think of) because he deserves a chance to get out, live a normal life (like Dean would have if he’d had the chance). These are themes that come up consistently as we get to the end of season four: in It’s a Terrible Life, Sam Wesson believes he’s destined for something more, while Dean Smith doesn’t believe in destiny, wanting to hold onto his normal life; in The Monster at the End of this Book, Sam believes that they should use Chuck’s prophecy to approach Lilith (to encounter their destiny) while Dean believes they should try to work around it, to avoid the fate that’s laid out for them.

And all of that is symptomatic of their current places in the overall narrative: Sam trying to take his powers and embrace them, use them for good (because they feel inescapable, and if he has to have them he wants to use them to save the world), and Dean trying to resist the plan the angels have in place for him, to push back against the future they say he’s destined for.

And they were set up for that by their destinies and by the people around them. There’s Ruby, who has acted like Sam’s friend, helping him grow strong in order to achieve her own ends, who is acting as though she’s different from the demons but who is only pushing Sam to get stronger and hunt more because it will position him where she wants. On the other side, there’s Castiel, saying he’s like the other angels but privately having doubts, beginning to feel, helping Dean find a loophole to save Sam from Lilith and beginning to try to understand humanity, to see why it deserves salvation.

And Adam’s role in all that is so interesting because by the end of the episode we know he’s dead, has been dead, unwittingly dragged into the world of hunting by John even after his death, and Dean insists on a hunters funeral even when Sam suggests asking Cas to bring him back—because in his eyes, being dead but not in the mess of the Winchester’s lives is the better option, the better place to be. (But of course, he’s ultimately dragged into it anyway, revived just to become the vessel Dean refuses to be and then locked away for it, locked away for over a thousand years)

#and that end dialogue of dean saying sam is just like john #and sam saying he’ll take it as a compliment #and dean saying take it however you’d like #!!!#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #spn meta #castiel #cas #sam winchester #ruby #adam milligan #jump the shark #spn season 4 #supernatural meta #winchesters

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meshlasolus · 2 months

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The Winner Takes It All

Episode 13

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: This one's dark dark... Mentions of sexual abuse, human trafficking, murder, burning alive, mentions of blood. Mentions of suicide, suicide attempt, depression and anxiety.

Chapter Summary: One tribute remains in the arena with Mercedes... but which one?

Word Count: 3.5k

hello people yes i'm sorry for the delay I've been busy setting up a store front (I know I said I was not gonna be busy but I guess more things started happening so) but I will be getting back to posting I swear.

The dress you’re wearing is now drenched, as your hips are fully submerged. It was white and purple, stingrays printed all over the fabric. It was quite beautiful, but not so much now that it clung to your skin. The dark woolen sweater overtop wasn’t doing anything to warm you, not like that was your objective, anyway. You got deeper than last time, the water drenching your shoulders. You let your eyes close, and let your steps take you until you heard paddling behind you.

Finnick went to bed. He knows that he's done everything he can do, and that there are only two tributes left. He’s given everything he has and if it isn’t enough, he knows he can’t stand to watch it play out in front of him. Even though he believes in you, on the off chance that he’s wrong, he can’t watch you die.

So he goes to bed.

He doesn’t sleep, mind you… there’s no way in hell he could, but he locks himself away in his room, no screens, no capitol pigs to entertain, and no victors to talk to. He doesn’t want anyone’s company but yours right now. He keeps thinking about the last glimpse he had of you. The bare skin of your shoulder as you boarded the jet. It was so simple, so unimportant, and yet it burned itself into his mind. If that’s his last memory of you, he knows it will be well preserved for the rest of his life. He tried to remember the last glimpse he had of last year's tributes but he can’t for the life of him come up with any imagery. Hell, he doesn’t even remember his last glimpse of Lukas.

He sits alone past sundown, about three or four hours. He can hear no cheering in the capitol outside of his window, nor can he hear the thunderous applause from several floors below him.

He starts getting anxious when he hears the noises of anticipation growing from the balcony of the winner’s circle, and so he closes his window to make sure the whispers of the outside cannot dictate his mind… as if they had the power to, anyway. His mind was still on you, your soft skin, the way he’d seen you in the silken nightgown after your interview. You’d been so soft, so angelic. You were mercy in its purest form, and he cannot think of a better word to describe you. What was once a threat to your chances in the games would now always be on his mind as a reminder of who you truly are. Whether you come out of that arena or not, he knows the word will echo through his brain always. Mercy, Mercy, Mercy…

He had rested his head against his pillows, nearly finding rest when it all fell apart.

The silence was broken, and the thunderous applause of the outside sent him jolting into action.

He cannot explain the terrible feeling he had there and then, but he knows it can’t mean anything good.

He practically tears through the apartment to turn on the screen, and he can’t believe what’s happened.

It was later in the evening, the waters of four sloshing around your ankles as you did your best to slowly merge deeper into them. It’s been a long time, but you’re tired of the nasty looks, tired of all the bullying and name calling. Tired of never being able to get a word out without stares or laughs or your head pounding from the stress of producing a single sentence. Your mind was too fast for your mouth, and it was getting to be unbearable. You hate the way you sound, the way others perceive you. You hate yourself and the fact that you can’t be balanced or coherent.

The last time you tried this, you had every intention of coming out, but you’d needed saving, as usual. No one was here, this time, and that’s how you wanted it.

Your mother will miss you, that’s for sure. Your father will grieve you in his long days of work, and you imagine a certain young fisherman will have to find ways to pass the time without you… but you can’t stand another day in this world. This world built by the Capitol of Panem is a cruel enough place without adding a speech impediment and crushing anxiety into the mix.

You step deeper and deeper, and the water is cold this time of night. It sends a shiver up your spine that makes you wrap your arms around yourself. You do your best to keep the tears at bay. They don’t really do anything but make this harder. Your body is already reaping the nasty consequences of your decision, you don’t need to be racking sobs on top of it.

You start shaking in fear and adrenaline when the water reaches your knees, something that shouldn’t make even the smallest child in four tremble. You contemplate letting your weight take you out, falling over would let nature take its course but for some reason you are insistent upon doing it this way. You have to secure the outcome, and sinking this shallow won’t do you any favors.

You let your eyes close, and let your steps take you until you heard paddling behind you.

“Mercedes! What the hell are you doing?”

And again to your rescue came the boy you would miss most.

He got close enough to wrap his arms around you, and you threw yourself into him, eyes bawling a river of tears that could make the tide rise in this ocean. He saved you, he always would. He’d been there since the beginning, and he’d be there till the end. If ever there was something to happen to him, you weren’t sure what you would do.

Without him, you would need another to protect you. Not because you needed saving from others, but often because you needed saving from yourself.

He sat on the beach with you, helping you calm down, using his jacket he’d left on the sands to help dry you off and keep you warm. He’d walk you back to your home, but he figured that was the last place you’d want to be on account of giving an explanation.

“What were you trying to do?” He asked, but he didn’t need to. He’d already known by the slow and steady pacing you’d held that you didn’t plan on stopping. He knew you were trying to get rid of your problems once and for all.

You stayed silent, a few hiccups and tears resurfacing at his question. He knew, and you knew… you had wanted to die.

“Why wouldn’t you talk to me?” Was his next question, and this time you felt you owed him an answer, but he wasn’t done. “If I hadn’t been here-”

“I’m s-so sorry, Lukas.”

He hugged you tighter into his side, the pain in his own chest increasing when he heard how hurt you still were through your voice.

“Don’t be sorry. Just please, talk to me the next time you get an idea like that. Promise me you will,” he knew it was juvenile, but he held his pinky up anyways, just like when you both were children and made him use the meaningless motion.

You took it, locking fingers but not letting go yet. You let your hands sink to the sand the way they were intertwined, and kept your head rested on his shoulder.

“If someone had found you washed up tomorrow, I don’t know what I would do… I don’t think I’d ever get over it if you died.”

You felt terrible, not just because it was a foolish mistake on a depressive whim, but because you would have affected not only his life, but the lives of your family on account of a really bad day.

“You can’t die, Mercedes… I’m sorry, but I won’t let you.”

You jolted awake, your head slamming back against the tree you were sleeping by. You didn’t have time to think, or to process a thing, because the sound of the twig snapping in the distance put you on guard.

Your knife was in your hand, and you had to be prepared to face either Estelle or Brock. Both outcomes would be easily accounted for. You had no intention of losing anymore. There was a venom in your veins, a fiery need for revenge. It consumed you.

The note that Finnick sent you wasn’t just telling you to kill this tribute, it was telling you something more.

Show no Mercy. Don’t be merciful, but also, don’t be you. Forget yourself, and become something you swore you wouldn’t. You would have just given up and died had it been a different situation. Had your best friend’s blood not been staining your body.

Out from the shadows of the humid forest, and into the light of your torch flame, Estelle stepped forward, her knife in her hands, and a wicked look on her face.

“I would never have expected it to be us,” She said, her mouth twitching into a smirk. What kind of game was this to her?

The hunger games are a terrible thing for all involved, but some tributes… they like it. The way they get to kill and be praised for it. She’s one of them.

“You k-killed Brock?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes as if annoyed you would even question it.

“When it comes down to three tributes, you can’t keep allies. I knew I could kill you, but it was easier to kill him first. He wasn’t expecting to die before you, so it was pretty easy. Stabbed him in the back, literally.”

You twisted your face in disgust. You would give anything for Lukas to be alive right now, and here she is, bragging shamelessly about killing her ally.

“You s-should have waited.”

She looked at you with surprise, taking more steps towards you while flipping her knife in her hand.

“We’ll see.”

She stepped at you immediately with a swing of her weapon, but you had been on pins and needles, dodging the attack and trying to get the upper hand. You weren’t skilled in combat. You didn’t know what you were doing. She caught you off guard, pinning you to the tree and trying to dig her knife into your skull.

The advantage you did have was your strength. You were able to push her arm back, keeping the knife a good distance away while being able to slash yours back over her shoulder, the blood splattering your face and your hair. She yelped in pain, but was back on you, chasing you the few steps you took away from the tree.

“Get over here,” she sneered, her energy becoming more vapid and ruthless as she started swinging aimlessly with all the strength she had. You were able to get out of the entanglement and carefully lead her back towards the tree, but on the other side. You purposely fell out of the way and over the gathering of rocks you’d formed, landing on your back. Looking up at her, your knife had been lost in the dirt, and she had every right to believe she had the upper hand.

“I’ve worked my entire life for this, and killing you,” she pointed her knife at you, her steps slowly coming forward until she was right where you wanted her. “Is going to be the most satisfying thing I’ll ever do.”

“I’m n-not afraid to d-die.”

She scoffed, stepping forward one more time, losing her balance on the hidden tripwire. You quickly shuffled back when she fell forward, watching as your woven rope trap fell from the tree canopy above. The rocks attached to the four corners weighed her down, and she’d lost sight of her knife.

“I’ve n-never been afraid to die… I’m afraid t-to live.”

You stood up next to the tree, taking in your hands the lit torch you’d set up earlier. You came before her once more, a pitying look on your face, but it wasn’t for her.

“I guess I’ll have to f-face my fears.”

And with that, you dropped the torch onto the rope, watching it catch faster than a candle wick.

A mound of giant flames was seen, and an abundance of screams and painful cries were heard, but you didn’t wince. There was no compassion in you for the one who took away from you what you had held so dear. There was nothing you wanted anymore.

You fell to your knees upon hearing the cannon, and curled into yourself with your hands over your head to try and dull the sound. You’ll be traumatized by cannonfire for the rest of your life, you know it. Even hearing it now, and feeling the fire still ablaze before you, you cannot feel peace.

Your enemy is defeated, the person who took everything from you is gone, but it didn’t

satisfy you. You still felt empty, and cold, despite the fire, and despite whom it consumed.

You only stood back up when you heard the canopy of the trees part over your head, a carrier lowering itself to take you away. It sounded crazy, and you know that mentally you shouldn’t even be thinking this, but you don’t want to leave this arena. You don’t want to leave Lukas here without you, and you don’t want to leave the place you last saw him alive. You have no intention of getting on the craft until it lands, and several men begin to pull and prod at you until you’ve boarded.

You take one last glance at the rainforest behind you before the door raises and closes. You’ll never see it again. Never see Lukas again. Never see any of your allies again. Twenty-four tributes went in, and you came out… and you hate everything about that.

His heart was pounding, his footsteps racing. People spoke to him as he walked by, but he didn’t hear any of it. They were all muted in his sense of urgency. It was real, but he had to see for himself, touch for himself.

It was quick and all at once, the relief, the anxiety, and a new rush of sorrowful emotions. A cycle of the three, rotating constantly and turning his stomach over each time. He sees the back of your shoulder and arm, the only thing visible from behind the separation curtain between each medical bed. He never understood why there were so many. There was always only one winner. It’s not like this was a hospital.

His feet still carried him, the walkway, though crowded with a team of experienced staff, were no match for him. He barreled through, earning little protest from anyone. He supposed it was a perk of being a Capitol darling, no one could ever tell him no in a setting like this.

Your back faced him. Your hair, once braided in a unique and athletic style by Dalton, had been completely destroyed, strands sticking out, some covered in a dried red substance he didn’t care to think about right now. It had been all over you.

“Mercedes,” his whispered word reached your ears, and you turned your head. Bloodshot eyes gazed back into his, and the entire world stopped for you.

He’s right there. The thought you’d been holding onto in the arena. The mentor who had taken such good care of you both in and out of the games. The only one you wanted to see right now.

Due to his stillness, you almost thought him to be a figment of your imagination, a culmination of your dwindling sanity that somehow managed to form an actual manifestation… but then he stepped forward, once, twice, three times.

He was careful, treating you like a scared animal. He’s seen what people can be like when they come back from the games. Sometimes they can’t tell that they’re no longer in them. He didn’t want to freak you out, or even make you feel the slightest bit uneasy.

“Finnick,” your eyes welled up with tears for the millionth time, and you tried your best not to let them fall now. This was a happy moment, don’t cry. Be happy. You survived the hunger games. It wasn’t even supposed to be you.

He came close, not yet touching what he didn't know he could. You weren’t stiff by any means, but you just seemed so monotonous. So still and weak, and still scared. He took the moment to look at you more. Blood was smeared on your face, your neck, your arms. There were few places it wasn’t residing.

He couldn’t help but reach up with one hand, his fingertips brushing over your shoulder. It had been the last thing he saw of you, and now the first. He hoped you weren’t so damaged from how you’d been when he saw you last. You had so much you needed to tell him, he’d remembered. He remembered because it was his hope for you to come back.

“Are you hurt?” He knew he should have added a word, but it slipped his brain. Physically, are you hurt physically?

You shook your head, understanding what he meant. You didn’t want to have to ask, but you wanted his comfort, wanted his embrace. You just survived the worst tragedy someone of your age could experience, and yet, were too scared to ask for a simple hug.

“W-will you-” you stopped short, the question hiding behind your teeth. You took a shallow breath and met his eyes. “Will you h-hold me?”

“Yes.”

His arms didn't hesitate to move of their own accord. They swarmed around your bare shoulders, smudging the dried blood around and making it feel crusty beneath his long sleeve shirt. He could care less. This shirt could never be worn again and yet he would sacrifice every shirt he had if it meant keeping you here and now, in his embrace. It comforted you, it helped you find peace.

You hadn’t been able to think or speak of anything else since you left that arena. He was the happy thought on the carrier ride, and in the transport truck, and now even here in the medical ward. He was the sustainability that you craved to go on. You still wished it had been you. Someone else should be sitting here and thinking about going home. It should be Rodey or Lukas or Lyra. The people who saved you from harm and protected you when all else were out to kill you. You didn't blame those kids, either. They were just playing by the rules, doing what they were told.

You didn't even want to go home. You didn't know what you would do when you got there. You didn't know if you could look your mother in the eye after what you had done. Your father would be ashamed of you. Your little brother would have to grow up with your reputation hanging over his head. You're a murderer, and a nasty one at that.

The worst part about Estelle's death was that you didn't regret it. You were happy to stand there and kill her, completely enthused to watch her body be consumed in flames while she flailed about, burning to a crisp. It gave you a sense of pride, that justice had been done for your allies, the ones who should have won.

She's the only thing about the games you don't regret. You should have stopped the venom from killing Lyra, you should have shoved off Rodey when he went to take the hit for you, and you should have pulled Lukas into the water. Those were the biggest regrets.

Here and now, with everything that was at stake, you shouldn't be here. You should still be in the arena, or wherever they lay the tributes to rest after the games are over.

Finnick felt you tense in his arms a few times, and he knew it was probably due to your thoughts. He remembers how badly they tortured him when he came home. His guilt was riding on his shoulders for weeks, all hidden under a stunning smile, of course. It was all he could do to mask how horribly he really felt. It wasn't long after that he’d been asked to start his favors for Snow.

He'd been thinking about that all of last night. When he didn't know if you were going to live or die, he thought about all the things that could happen in either scenario. If you won, you'd be dealt the cards that he was. If you lost, you could escape it in peace. If you won, he'd be able to hold you just like he's doing now, but if you lost, he'd have to suffer the loss of you. He'd have thought about you every time he looked at a new promising tribute. He'd have to think about the promise he made himself and how he'd not only failed to honor it, but failed to save you.

He shook it all out of his head. You were here, and you were alive. His sweet Mercy.

“I'm gonna take care of you. I promise.”

tags(open): @thepassionatereader @i-voluntears @secretsicanthideanymore @mystargirl-interlude @c4ttheart @lilibrn @emma-andrea1 @marvelescvpe

#finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair thg #finnick odair #thg finnick #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x oc #the hunger games #sam claflin x reader #sam claflin #katniss everdeen #catching fire

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aemondsvisenya · 1 year

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Hello! I saw you were taking requests for House of the dragon and wanted to request something if that’s okay! I had this idea for quite a while but haven’t been able to find any fics like this. I’d like to request a Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader hurt/comfort fic in which the reader comforts him after Viserys’ death. Maybe she finds him having a breakdown and like breaking things so she goes to hug him (with the head bump thing he does when he hugs people bc that makes me melt) and he just lets go for once. I know this sounds a bit ooc for him but I’ve heard that they cut off the scene in which he cried for Viserys and his daughter and I can’t get over it. I believe Daemon is actually more emotional than how we see in the show and that he feels a lot and is a very complex character. I’d love to see a scenario in which Daemon actually can’t hold his emotions in anymore and someone is there for him. Idk I just love him🫶🏻

Sorry for my english, it’s not my first language. Anyway, take your time and feel free to ignore this if it you’re not really inspired, have a great day!

Hi anon! Of course it’s absolutely okay to request! ☺️ I love this idea so much, oh my gosh - I actually did write a fanfic a couple of months back about Daemon in episode 10 (grieving not only his brother but also his daughter and stepson), and I totally agree that he’s incredibly complex. It’s a shame there were scenes showing his complexity cut from the show!

Anyway, I apologise for it being kind of short but I've been busy with work unfortunately! I also apologise if it sucks!

Grieving | Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of illness/death, angst, hurt/comfort, Daemon using his favourite four letter words beginning with c and f

Also, a note: Obviously this isn't canon-compliant - you're in a relationship with Daemon in this fic, so you could assume he's not married to Rhaenyra but... anyway.

The first thought on your mind when you heard the news of Viserys’ death was not of the inevitable power struggle for who would be the one to seize the throne, of the inevitable war and pain for both sides this would cause, or even your own feelings of sadness at the king’s passing.

No, the only thing on your mind was Daemon.

It didn’t take long for everyone around you to busy themselves with plotting how best to help the king’s named heir take the throne that was rightfully hers, Daemon chief among them; to anyone else, he appeared angry, filled with a dangerous rage that threatened to boil over and destroy everything in his wake, his desire for war and revenge clear. It was true, you admitted; it was obvious that your lover wanted to hurt each and every person who had caused his brother pain, who had disrespected that same brother’s wishes, who had held any part in usurping a niece he held dear. There was no question that Daemon Targaryen wanted revenge or that he would be the one to swing the sword as he sought it.

But you knew him well enough to know that there was more than just anger and hate driving him - everyone thought him a heartless man, incapable of loving or truly caring for anyone, but you knew this assumption couldn't have been further from the truth.

As darkness fell over Dragonstone that evening and the council meetings drew to a close, you saw the Rogue Prince leave quickly; his face was grim, mouth set in a firm line and a hand on the sword he kept with him at all times. No one noticed as you silently slipped away after him, too occupied in their own politics and war to care what you did or where you went - you were of little importance compared to the lords, princes and queen, after all.

You knew immediately where he had gone - there was only one place in the castle he would go now after a long day like this, especially in the aftermath of such news. In no time at all you were standing outside of the chambers the two of you were occupying during your stay, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself before ordering the guard posted outside of the doors to let no one else in unless of an emergency; the knight agreed, bowing his head low as you entered the room.

"FUCK!"

A goblet clashed against a stone wall, thankfully empty and not filled with wine that would stain the rugs. Your prince barely seemed to notice your sudden presence, so consumed by his anguish and rage that it seemed to blind him to all else; you tried not to wince as he next overturned a large table, sending the books and scrolls that had decorated it clattering to the floor in a mess. You had known he would take the news harshly: the king had been his older brother, his only brother or sibling for that matter, and while their relationship had been somewhat uneasy over the years, it was clear that they had loved and cared for each other despite any quarrels or disagreements they may have once had.

He let out snarl, kicking a nearby chair. "Those bastards... those fucking Hightower cunts..." He picked up a nearby vase and threw it to the floor; the object shattered upon impact, something else the servants would have to clean come morning. Most would have been afraid by his behaviour, by this violence - but not you. You knew he would not hurt you, that his actions were merely his way of expressing his pain and hurt.

"Daemon..."

He spared you a glance, enough to acknowledge you, before letting out a harsh exhale and stalking over to the window; he sat on the ledge underneath it, resting an arm against the glass and leaning his head against it. Like this, you could not see his face - but you knew what the small tremors that shook his shoulders meant, what he needed from you even as he tried to hide.

"Oh, love..." You crossed the room and without hesitating cupped his face, turning it towards you. "Come here."

Daemon looked at you once more, his eyes glassy. "My brother..."

"I know," You whispered. "I'm so sorry. I'm certain he knew you were loyal to him, that you loved him - he knew it until the end."

"He's gone," He said, voice thick with emotion that he was only now allowing himself to feel properly. "Viserys is gone."

Your heart broke at the pain in his voice. "It's okay, Daemon... you don't have to be strong here, not with me."

There was a moment's pause before he leaned forwards, forehead gently bumping against your chin as he pressed his face into your chest. As your hands started to run through his hair almost absent-mindedly, knowing that this action helped to soothe him, he began to let go for you; his hands reached for the fabric of your clothes as if to clutch onto you, to hold you closer, and soon the tears came.

Very few people had ever seen the Rogue Prince cry, for he hated to be seen as weak, but the love and years you had spent together meant he trusted you enough to be vulnerable in front of. It didn't take long before his tears turned to quiet sobs, muffled by the way he pressed his face into you; all you could do for now was hold him tight and whisper comfortingly to him, to to be there for him by giving him the freedom he needed to grieve his loss.

Daemon would avenge his brother, of this you had no doubts - but for tonight he allowed himself to let go and mourn, and you were all too willing to be there for him when he needed you most.

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #daemon targaryen imagine #hurt/comfort #daemon needs a big hug let's be honest #it feels right that my first request filled is about daemon considering i met matt smith like two and a half months ago

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cod-dump · 6 months

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hi! I feel a little bit bad for asking since you JUST posted "Time" (the monster handler AU), but would you mind giving any HCs/details about the verse? Like (if you need ideas):

assuming the insectoid is Roach, what're his abilities?

what is demon!Ghost's personality?

what eras are Soap & Gaz originally from?

what event led to Price summoning Ghost?

also: the moment I read that Nik was some kind of lycan, the term "bear" came to mind 😅 anyway, I always love your drabbles/ficlets! It's like getting a new episode of my favorite show! Have a great weekend...oh & what kind of monster would YOU want to be?

I don’t mind at all! I have been wanting to talk about it :)

———

Roach is indeed an insectoid! His face is mostly human but he still covers up to hide it from everyone. He doesn’t think he’s ugly or anything (some have described his face “moth-like” with ant antenna) he just had too many run-ins with people who are deathly afraid of bugs.

• He has regenerative abilities (if he loses an arm it will grow back the next time he molts). But if more serious damage is done to something like his head or chest, he won’t be able to recover from that.

• Roach has venom (it paralyzes whoever he bites but if he injects too much it can cause lasting damage to their nerves). Roach has accidentally made someone permanently lose all feeling and function in everything below their waist. Now he’s very careful when using his venom.

• He can stay underwater up to twenty-four hours before he needs to get air (this is helpful since he isn’t a very good swimmer)

• Roach is pretty strong. Not fifty times his own body weight strong but more like twenty (he has picked up a couple teammates and ran because they were in danger and the assholes weren’t listening to him).

• Roach loves sweets. He’ll eat anything without complaint (he’s eaten rotten carcasses before) but sweets are his absolute favorite.

• And, last of all, Roach can communicate and control some insects or creepy crawlies! He’s like the ultimate bug queen (don’t call him that). Flies, ants, roaches— They all listen to him. Bugs also tend to stick around him (he attracts them).

Ghost more or less the same. Though everyone questions if he genuinely cares about his team and the people he works with or if it’s just a ploy. He mostly sticks around Price (for obvious reasons) but he does venture out on his own (no one knows what he does). He’s good at hiding that he’s a demon and people tend to only find out when someone tells them. Ghost never likes revealing what he is to people unless the absolutely have to know (it causes distrust and that isn’t good for missions).

Soap is much older than Gaz and follows the old vampire laws. Cannot enter a privately owned building without verbal permission, contact with sunlight is almost always lethal, can’t tolerate garlic, can’t eat human food without projectile vomiting— all the things people know vampires for. His much older bloodline is the cause for him having to follow these strict laws (and he’s miserable because of it). Soap was turned against his will centuries ago in Scotland around 1300 (where he was born) by a woman that was supposed to be his bride. He’s long cut contact with her, not agreeing with her idea of changing him so they could be together forever.

Gaz is much, much younger than Soap. He was born shortly after WWII ended in England and was turned around 1963. He says he was turned unwillingly by vampire who he would later kill. This act should have cured him of his vampirism but he remained a vampire (it is uncertain why). Because of Gaz’s bloodline, he doesn’t have to follow the old vampire laws (sometimes he does so in a mocking/teasing way).

Price summoned Ghost years ago after his captain was brutally tortured and murdered by an organization that would later be revealed to be lead by Vladimir Makarov, a descendant of what people believe to be Dracula himself (though Dracula is more or less a over hyped vampire that many agree wasn’t the strongest or even a well liked vampire).

Price knew that he, as a simple human, wouldn’t be able to stand a chance against Makarov so he made a spur of the moment decision to find a way to fight him. One dug up corpse and ritual later (which resulted in the Zaragoza Drug Cartel in being massacred), Price would summon a demon that he would later name Ghost. This all happened before he met Laswell or Nik, of course.

If he had something in his life worth keeping, someone to care for or look out for him, he wouldn’t have sold his soul. But he was young, upset over his captain’s death, and he wanted to do something about it. Dwelling on it won’t change anything, so Price has just accepted that Ghost will someday eat his soul.

Until then, they have work to do.

Yes, Nik is a bear-like lycan. He has blond fur with dark roots which led to Price nicknaming him ‘Blondie’. Considering Nik’s human form has black hair, no one gets why Price calls him that (until they see Nik turn, that is).

Dragon. Dragon anything, really. Fucking love dragons omg-

#another monster au #things to know #call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #cod nikolai #drabble #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #monster au

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knight-princess · 3 months

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The way that magic in Willow is tied so deeply into belief is so well done, and I love how Elora and Willow walk similar but different journeys with it. The way that, at the edge of the world, above the waterfall, they reach their lowest points, the breaking that is the province of the shattered sea, the last hurdle. Willow’s, “I’m just a farmer who got lucky,” summaries perfectly the self doubt he has always struggled with. He has it within him, but he takes the wind out of his own sails and second guesses himself, right from his first impulse when he himself took the finger test. When he has confidence in himself, he can do great things. The ‘magic’ that saves baby Elora, the disappearing pig trick, works precisely because he sells it, performing it so confidently even Bavmorda believes him. It’s all about confidence. But even that very success undermines him, because he feels he can’t live up to it; it adds to his fear and self doubt, that everyone thinks he did incredible magic. But he did; the confidence is the key, the true miracle. If he believes he is the greatest sorcerer that has ever lived, he is. And Elora, “I don’t want to be Elora Danan,” Elora reveals to them, at her lowest point, atop the waterfall. “I just want to go home.” Acceptance and belief in herself are her hurdles too, but manifested as her fear of taking up the role and responsibility of ‘Elora Danan’, a mantle with much weighing on it, as the woodcutters in episode three illustrate, and the threat of the Crone and the Wyrm who don’t just want her dead, even before you get to any responsibility being empress will set her up for. And she tries across the series; her promise to Willow, to study and practise hard, she lives up to. But her true block is deeper than correct pronunciation of spells. Elora tells Jade in the Mines of Skellin that the closer she reaches for the magic, the harder it seems; the more she thinks she understands it, the further away it seems. “I grew the eckleberry bush,” she tells Willow. “Which was apparently amazing.” The way that yes, she did grow it, but it sprung only after she’d been taken away, so she didn’t even know it had grown at all because she didn’t see. Kit tells her; even in episode four, Kit’s belief in her helps her find her belief in herself. And what she does isn’t anything she’s been taught. The way she ‘kisses’ Graydon, pulling the evil out of him that way, was all her. Her trust in her own ability, her own magic, feeling it, tentative as it is at this stage. “It’s not that you don’t have the power,” the Crone tells her. “It’s conviction you lack.” And therein lies Elora’s problem: she puts so much effort into learning, but the magic was always within her. She needs to accept who she is. She can practise all she likes, but while she does not accept her role and her nature, there will always be blocks. Willow tells us to believe in ourselves. That we have to be brave. Magic as something you are, not something you do

#willow 2022 #elora danan #willow ufgood #willow thoughts

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salty-croissants · 4 months

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can you make some headcanons and/or imagine of rayman/ramon with an adoptive human! sister s/o (who used to be from another dimension before moving away to cl world dimension somewhere which is an unaffected good nation that didn't got ruined when she was a kid with her family (her mom, younger biological sister, and one of her female cousins), her pets, and her bunch of friends) after the last episode from season 1 (few moments after killing the broad directors), getting an heart warming reunion before successfuly escaping go get bullfrog out and then flee to the hideout where she shares with her bunch of dear friends who also joined the rebellion ;

like she finally got the accurate precious information about where her brother (rayman/ramon) is, after dolph called her in her smartphone and told y/n where he is and where he is heading to because he also got the information about the heck her bro went through thanks to the virtual realm thing and stuff and he needs to share this information and he also told that after reuniting with her adoptive brother she and him must go get bullfrog, quickly explains his situation and to her end the call before her smartphone may end up getting infected with virus before fighting the bad guys,

so after hearing this she turns off her phone (thankfull didn't got infected), grabbed her weapons, gas mask (modified to look like a bunny rabbit, with the addion of other tech gadgets like walkie talkie like features, night vision, and extra protection, an gas mask she and some of her friends made for him (with the same features from the inside but in the outside made to look like an fox) ((yes all of her friends and pets/familiars are wearing gas masks like this for good reasons)); after she killed all of the other bad guys in the building she comes to where ramon/raymon is laying on the table and before he could do anything, she pulls down her hoodie and shows her face and ray/ramon reconizes her.

((it's based on the concept of my cl timeline self-insert, look at the concept to you have an idea and even use some stuff as reference, in the messages; sorry if it got long))

Thank you for the request !

I really hope I got everything right , there was quite a lot of information to keep track of with this one ;C;👍

This is also my first ever more platonic request , which is pretty neat ! :D

Details : use of female reader ;

reader is Rayman’s adoptive sister ;

presence of mild swearing and blood

< … did you get all that , y/n ?

You better , cause I don’t have much time left to explain . >

< Yeah yeah , I got it !

It’s just … I can’t believe I’m actually going to see him again … >

< Stop . I need you to focus now .

You grab your brother , free Bullfrog and get the hell out of there immediately .

I won’t be able to be there with these assholes in the way , so you’re on your own from now …

I’ll see you when this is all ov - >

With that abrupt end to Dolph’s call , you remained completely alone

You took a deep breath , your heart pounding in your chest as you walked forward in the corridor , leaving behind the bodies of the Eden security guards that were unfortunate enough to cross you .

It hadn’t been easy to get that far into the building the Board of Directors used as their headquarters , the many bruises that had cut through your clothes and gas mask were proof of that …

However , it was all going to be worth it to be reunited with your long lost brother .

How many years had it been since you last got to talk to Rayman before they took him from you ?

Four ?

No , maybe even five …

The only way you could see him was when his show aired on tv , and while you were happy to see that he seemed to be alright , the fact that he had become the face of the very thing you and your friends were fighting so hard against broke your heart …

Did that mean that you were enemies now ?

Was he even going to be happy to see you , or remember who you were … ?

You shook your head , trying to keep those awful thoughts from tormenting your mind .

Even if Rayman were to regard you as a “terrorist” , you weren’t going to let the Directors or anyone else hurt him , and that was all that mattered .

It only took a few more steps to reach the door that lead to the Director’s room , the place where Rayman was supposed to be in from what Dolph had told you before the beginning of that mission , and when you finally found the courage to open it you found yourself staring at a rather grim sight :

the all powerful Directors , the ones who had everyone’s lives in the palm of their hands for years , were all laying dead on the table and the floor , their blood painting the otherwise pristine room in a bright crimson , and …

Hang on , was there someone else laying down on that table ?

Could it really be … ?

< Ray ? >

As soon as he heard your voice , he immediately jolted up , his breathing heavy as he reached for his guns .

< Who … who the hell are you ? Don’t come any closer ! >

You sounded strangely familiar to the now ex Eden star … but he knew that it wouldn’t be possible for that very special person to be there .

It just … it couldn’t be .

Your eyes widened when you took a better look at your brother :

he looked so … different …

You had never seen that spark of fury in his eyes , and that was without mentioning his appearance .

Before things could escalate for the worst , you grabbed the mask you were wearing with shaky hands , slowly removing it and revealing your face .

A moment of shocked silence followed , before he jumped down from the table , his eyes never leaving yours as he approached …

< y/n … ? >

, he whispered , almost like he was afraid to even speak .

< Oh Ray , I missed you so much ! >

When you leaned forward to hug him , giving him confirmation that you were actually real and not just a part of his imagination , it was the moment that he finally snapped :

He clutched you tightly , the weight of everything that he had been through that day mixing with the relief of having found you again , after years of not being able to even know if you were okay .

You could hear him sob next to your shoulder …

< I can’t believe … I can’t believe that it’s you , y/n … all this time , I thought … I thought I’d never see you again … >

After a few more minutes of much needed crying , the two of you finally pulled away from each other , so happy about being back together that you almost forgot the gravity of your current situation .

< But … how did you get here ? >

< It’s kind of a long story , but to cut it short I’ve been working against Eden with a few others , and when Dolph told me you were here I had to come Ray … I had to make sure you were okay . >

You could see your brother trying to process everything he was hearing , that you were allies with Dolph Laserhawk one of the people he had considered a terrorist just a few days prior … but he visibly flinched a little as you mentioned his old name .

< I see , well it’s thanks to him if we got to reunite then … heh , today’s been one hell of a crazy day .

Though … I gotta ask you to call me Ramon now .

I don’t wanna go by my old name anymore … reminds me of all the damage I’ve caused and the lies these bastards made me spread . >

You nodded in response , your gaze softening as you wondered just how awful he probably felt when finding the truth about Eden …

It must’ve been a real hard time for him , which reminded you of the other reason you were there on that mission .

< Okay , look … I know you’ve already been through a lot today , but I need to set Bullfrog free before they execute him , and I … can’t do it alone . >

Before you could finish your sentence , Ramon had already begun to pick up his guns from were he left them without hesitation …

< I got your back y/n .

Bullfrog is the reason why I know what Eden has done … I gotta repay the favor . >

When the both of you walked out of the room , ready for your rescue mission , you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with joy at the thought of having your brother by your side :

this time , nothing was going to take him away from you … you would’ve made sure of that .

#captain laserhawk #x reader #rayman x reader #captain lazerhawk rayman #rayman #female reader #ramon captain laserhawk #laserhawk rayman

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antialiasis · 5 months

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Chess (2018 Kennedy Center revival)

So I was just going to briefly mention all the other different versions of Chess I have consumed in the big essay post I’ve been writing on and off, but there was just too much to say about this one which made it really awkward to fit it in, so fine, here is another individual chesspost. Nearly 7500 words of rambling under the cut, oh my god.

This production represents the latest official full overhaul of Chess. It sports an all-new book written by Danny Strong, also known as the actor who played Jonathan on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which is some whiplash (Sarah Michelle Gellar is apparently a big Chess fan, too). It was later staged again as a concert with some further modifications in 2021, but I listened to an audio bootleg of the 2018 version. (There exist some videos of it online, but only scattered bits.)

The Story Changes

This version has London’s basic plot structure with the distinctive two chess tournaments (this time four years apart, which is neither the original number nor the actual number of years between world chess championships), but rearranges Act I, adds a lot more quippy dialogue and swearing, reinterprets the characters, and recenters real-world politics in the whole thing — sort of the exact inverse of what Chess på svenska did with the material. It opens with “Difficult and Dangerous Times” to set the scene in the Cold War and features the Arbiter narrating with sardonic omniscient commentary between songs/scenes throughout, which does feel a bit more consistent than the Arbiter suddenly having a narrator role for the duration of one song in Act II.

All the main characters in this version are reinterpreted with significant new background context, which is a very interesting way to rewrite it that I definitely dig in principle. For example, Florence’s first scene here involves Walter threatening her with deportation from the US unless she can make Freddie behave for the duration of the tournament. Most versions of Chess make the political scheming very symbolic and vague — exchanges of mostly unnamed political prisoners or handwaved concessions — but this version is noticeably specific, with specific nuclear arms treaty negotiations that the CIA believes would be negatively affected if Freddie keeps openly antagonizing the Soviets. She tells Walter to go fuck himself (told you it adds more swearing) and that nobody can control Freddie Trumper, but ultimately she doesn’t have much of a choice but to reluctantly play along. This addition recontextualizes her character and her interactions with Freddie in Act I a fair bit — it’s pretty significant, after all, that she is under threat and may lose her home if she doesn’t somehow control what she really can’t.

Meanwhile, Freddie himself here suffers from a full-on mental illness which he takes medication for. Walter asserts on a phone call early that they’re dealing with a “genuine paranoid schizophrenic”, but then later calls him a “bipolar bitch”; I take the blatant inconsistency combined with the obviously insulting nature of these remarks to mean probably we’re not meant to take either of them at face value, but these two lines from Walter are the only ones suggesting any specific diagnosis. (I unfortunately suspect Danny Strong didn’t have a specific condition in mind and research it so much as just slap him with a Generic Ambiguous Mental Illness for which he takes Pills.) One way or another, Freddie’s ambiguous mental illness gives him bouts of intense paranoia, driving him to do things like trashing his and Florence’s hotel room to look for listening devices at one point. Florence keeps insistently, frustratedly telling him to just take his goddamn pills even as he’s in genuine distress; it’s pretty uncomfortable, and also definitely one of those things that are at least more human when his episodes could cost her the only home she has: she’s desperate and in distress too.

(I do kind of feel as if this whole bit would make more sense if Florence and Freddie had a strictly business relationship here to start with, instead of being explicitly portrayed as a couple — when they have a committed intimate partnership going on, one would think Florence getting deported would also be pretty obviously significant for Freddie, and Florence quietly playing along with the CIA and crossing her fingers that she can indirectly coax him into behaving with seemingly no serious thought given to whether it’d be better to just tell him why he needs to stop feels stranger. The scene with Walter sounds like Walter/the CIA are not aware of their romantic relationship and Florence wants to keep it that way — they both refer to Freddie strictly by his full/last name and as “her player” — so I guess Walter would have assumed she wouldn’t tell him, but surely the calculus would at least look a bit different to Florence herself. Even if it just prompts her to realize Freddie would still be liable to react by becoming even more erratic and vocal about his paranoias, that feels like it’d be significant enough, at least for her feelings on this relationship going forward, that it never actually coming up or being suggested within the story starts to feel marginally odd. Not a major complaint, though, just a bit of overthinking.)

Freddie in general is noticeably portrayed much more sympathetically here than usual throughout. Where other versions of Chess tend to present Freddie as an attention-seeking drama queen who plays up ludicrous arbitrary demands for money and press, here things like his walkout from the first chess game are made to come from a much more genuine place: he has major sensory issues and is intolerably thrown off balance by distracting noise and lights (which really are deliberately arranged to sabotage him). “Florence Quits”, the song with the misogyny verse, usually reads as being triggered by his jealousy and inability to accept that Anatoly’s just playing better than him, but this version makes it feel more about how he feels persistently gaslit about the ways he’s being sabotaged than anything else: he accuses the Soviets of having a hypnotist in the front row to throw him off (which they do, and Freddie literally saw him and recognized him) and Florence of working for the CIA (which she has been, if not by choice) while they deny it and brush it off, and the tense opening notes of the song play under him desperately yelling “You’re lying to me! You’re all lying to me!” (Which doesn’t make the misogyny okay, obviously, but it does make it feel more like a desperate, paranoia-fueled lashout where you don’t know how much he really means all that.)

When he subsequently forfeits the match against Anatoly, he makes a speech that sounds absolutely despairing where he says chess has been taking a toll on his health since he first became champion at eleven years old, and he doesn’t feel he can trust anyone, even himself. In Act II, before “The Interview”, he even actually apologizes to Florence for how he treated her; heck, his motivation for going so hard after Anatoly in “The Interview” itself is portrayed as being that he is genuinely disgusted by Anatoly leaving his family so callously (which is a lot of fun given Freddie’s own issues about his father leaving him and his mother behind) and wants Florence to hear the truth about what a despicable man he is, which is still unpleasant to her but clearly comes from a much more sympathetic place than either simple spite or reluctantly complying with Walter’s orders.

As for Anatoly… he was taken from his parents when he was a small child to be groomed by Molokov and the KGB into becoming a chess champion, and he’s well aware from his very first scene that the state had killed the previous Soviet champion after Freddie unseated him. (Freddie excoriates the press early on for not covering why the former champion disappeared off the face of the Earth because they’re too busy bashing Freddie, which sounds like paranoia, but the narrative has actually told us Freddie is right and they really did execute him but no one but Freddie seems to notice or care — another way in which Freddie is jarringly sympathetic here. In general, Freddie is portrayed as paranoid, and the other characters treat him like he’s just paranoid, but the narrative keeps proving Freddie’s paranoia right.)

Anatoly, though, isn’t afraid of the same fate, because “The state cannot execute a man… that is already dead.” (This general sentiment could press my buttons, but it just feels super corny and melodramatic the way it’s presented and performed, especially with that dramatic pause in there.) He is deeply depressed, thinks his marriage to Svetlana is fake and his kids hate him, and says repeatedly in Act I that he hates chess and just wants to be free of it, though he also describes a particular championship match he watched as the only time he’s felt love. At the end of Act I, he defects to the UK along with Florence as usual (his defection fully blows up the treaty Walter was worrying about despite Anatoly’s victory, so Florence’s refugee visa is indeed revoked, and that’s why they end up in the UK). Theoretically he should be free of chess now, but it bothers him intensely that he only won by forfeit (here they never finished playing a single match), resulting in him returning to defend his world champion title, and win it ‘properly’, four years later in Bangkok against Viigand.

Unknown to Anatoly, by Act II, after the election of Ronald Reagan, the Soviets are extra on edge and believe a planned NATO military exercise is actually the US mobilizing for a full-scale invasion of the Soviet Union. Walter tries to convince Molokov it’s just an exercise; Molokov insists unfortunately the generals are going to believe it’s an invasion and be ready to retaliate unless Viigand wins the championship (if Viigand wins they will take it as a ‘sign of goodwill’ from the US, which will change their minds on the apparent invasion because, uhh, unclear). Throughout Act II, the larger stakes in this version are set up to be that if Anatoly should win the match, the Soviets are liable to start a nuclear war.

Does Walter go to Anatoly to frankly tell him that apparently the Soviets have lost their minds and are basically threatening nuclear war over a chess match and try to convince him to throw on that basis? Does Molokov realize that if he’s telling Walter to go rig the chess match so the generals will call it off, he clearly doesn’t actually believe that the US is about to invade, so probably he should be trying to convince the generals not to go for the nuclear option himself? No, of course not; this is Chess, so we have to have the songs that are in Chess. So instead, Walter and Molokov just go through the same indirect schemes as usual to unbalance Anatoly and convince him to throw the game, with some minor twists. Molokov actually actively threatens Svetlana with being sent to a gulag to die if she doesn’t convince her husband to return �� and Svetlana does straight-up tell Anatoly this, only for Anatoly to brush her off and tell her they won’t do that. Florence learns the same from Walter and initially dismisses him, and fully doesn’t believe him about her father being alive, but does ultimately sympathize with Svetlana and worry for her, which I like. But Anatoly is obsessed with winning this championship above all else and fully convinced Molokov is bluffing.

In the end, he plays the game to win, oblivious to the nuclear threat; as he checkmates, Walter makes a desperate phone call to his superiors to call off the training exercise. (Why he didn’t just do that immediately when Molokov told him the Soviets were taking it as an attack, instead of spending all this time playing along with this elaborate chess mind game, is a mystery.) Only… they don’t, and the Soviets watch with their fingers on the nuclear button, but ultimately they don’t fire. The Arbiter’s narration informs us this was the closest the world ever came to destruction, even closer than the Cuban missile crisis, and that this then served as the wake-up call that prompted negotiations about nuclear deescalation.

Anatoly, meanwhile, returns to the Soviet Union as usual, this time successfully exchanging himself for Florence’s imprisoned father, and Walter gives the two of them visas so that they can return to the US together.

Broad thoughts

I feel profoundly weird about the mixing of real-life history and completely fictitious alternate history here — you can’t just assert in narration that the fictional events in your musical were what taught the US and Soviet Union that maybe they should just talk to each other, while making a specific comparison to an actual thing that really happened, after spending the musical asserting that the Soviets murdered chess players for losing the world championship. I think mixing history and fiction can work fine if we can imagine that for all we know this is what really happened, or alternatively that this is what might have happened in some alternate universe similar to but distinct from ours. But here, we’re creating highly significant and publicized events that are obviously fictional, making it absurd to pretend this is what really happened, while also presenting these fictional alternate-universe events in objective hindsight narration alongside real events that happened in the real world and as a supposed cause of them. This ending narration just feels like it’s weirdly trying to have its cake and eat it too.

All in all, though, I think this is definitely one of the most interesting efforts to rewrite Chess. It definitely has something it’s going for, there are several neat ideas in it, and in particular I appreciate that it tries to give extra attention to the characters, more context to their actions, and more messy, humanized depth, inner conflict, and complicated motivators and stressors behind what they do. I genuinely enjoy what it’s doing with Freddie in Act I, in particular, even though it feels somehow both jarringly like it’s woobifying him (I genuinely think he ends up coming across as the most sympathetic of the three mains here, with so much of his erratic, childish and unpleasant behaviour being recontextualized to be more understandable and the way his hatred of the Soviets keeps being validated by the narrative) and like the narrative is weirdly harsh on him (this much more sympathetic Freddie who suffers from an actual mental illness is treated like absolute irredeemable scum by every other character including the fourth-wall-leaning narrator, even more than usual).

I also think the restructuring of Act I was pretty solid for the most part, though there’s definitely some awkwardness, like how Freddie’s expanded encounters with the press sort of clumsily repeat the same beats a bit. On the one hand, I can get what Danny Strong was going for in choosing to introduce everyone first and then go into “Merano” instead of doing several minutes of narrative meaninglessness before the main characters are even introduced; on the other hand, that kind of just half-defeats the sole original purpose of “Merano”, which is to provide a very jaunty more stereotypical musical theater song so that Freddie can be introduced via barging in and interrupting it with his very different vibe, and if I were Danny Strong I would definitely have just removed “Merano” at that point. But the “Difficult and Dangerous Times” opening works great, and it nicely avoids the “almost nothing of note happens for nearly forty minutes” and “several meaningless fluff songs in a row” problems of the London script, introducing conflict and stakes early and keeping the narrative going.

Ultimately, though, a lot of what it’s trying to do doesn’t quite come together to me, and some of it is variously misguided or just strange.

The Politics

To start with, I can definitely get wanting to emphasize the role of Cold War politics in the narrative, and I basically enjoyed the increased political focus and higher stakes in Act I — but I don’t think making Anatoly unwittingly almost start a nuclear war works here, or fits properly into this narrative at all. The Soviet generals have to be holding idiot balls; Molokov has to be holding an idiot ball; Walter has to be holding the biggest idiot ball of all; and most importantly, the ludicrously massive stakes being pasted on top of the match despite none of the main characters even knowing about it means we zoom thoroughly out of the character drama of the situation: “Endgame” just becomes grotesquely trivial with that hanging over it without Anatoly’s knowledge, rendering the actual drama of the climactic song completely irrelevant to what’s really at stake.

I also dislike, in a version that emphasizes the politics, how distinctly slanted it is. One of the things that I like in the London strain of Chess is that Walter and Molokov are both slimy, manipulative bastards in different ways, both sides’ political actors cruelly toying with the lives of the players for their own impersonal ends; the righteousness of each state as a whole doesn’t really matter to this story, only the impact that the whole conflict and the mutual scheming has on the main characters’ lives. But in this version, the Soviets and Molokov are cartoon villains who literally abduct children to force them into chess camp and then murder them if they don’t win the world championship, while Walter may be a condescending asshole who’s willing to threaten Florence but is distinctly the ‘good guy’ in his interactions with Molokov, which comprise most of his screentime, especially in Act II. Walter even gets a humanizing moment where he explains he has a nine-year-old son and has nightmares about him suffering a nuclear winter (Molokov, meanwhile, tells Walter in Act I that Anatoly is like a son to him but could not more obviously not care about Anatoly at all when he proudly presents his new champion material Viigand in Act II). I just find it really detrimental to Chess’s narrative to make it about Soviets Bad, US Good, and more so the more you focus on that — to whatever extent you highlight the politics in this story, it should be done in a way that’s about how the political machinations of the Cold War impact the character drama at the center of it, and it’s distracting when instead you make it into a loosely related B-plot about Walter’s desperate diplomatic efforts to stop the evil Soviets from destroying the world with their shortsightedness.

I think a successful more politically-focused Chess could definitely exist, but I think it’s always going to function best if Walter and Molokov feel at least narratively like just about equal scumbags. It’s not even impossible to imagine nuclear weapons and mutually assured destruction coming up in the course of it — but it needs to be using that to make us enraged at all of this on behalf of Anatoly/Florence/Svetlana/Freddie, not enraged at Molokov on behalf of Walter.

The Character Work

Meanwhile, I do basically like the setup and recontextualization done for all of the main characters in Act I, but unfortunately none of them quite delivered as well as I hoped in the end.

Let’s start with Florence. I actually quite liked the deportation threat, putting Florence herself under personal pressure in a way she usually isn’t. I dig characters being put through the wringer and making decisions under stress. But the story doesn’t quite do anything with that other than using it as silent context behind her early interactions with Freddie and technically as the reason she and Anatoly move to the UK offscreen. We don’t, for instance, ever see Freddie learn that that’s why she moved or that he was unwittingly indirectly responsible for that, or otherwise address that in any way, and as far as Florence in the rest of the story is concerned, it might as well never have happened — we never see her having any kinds of feelings on it, or even confronting Walter about that nasty little part he played in her life when she meets him again (she doesn’t even comment on it when he offers her the chance to go back to the US at the end!). To an extent this is, of course, because Florence being deported was never originally part of the story of Chess, so of course it doesn’t come up in any song or have any significant specific impact on the core series of events — but if you’re going to add it in at all, you really ought to be taking that somewhere in the rest of your additions that isn’t just briefly handwaving that she gets to go back at the end.

Like Long Beach, this version brings Florence’s father back at the end — but unfortunately, it feels really unearned here. Compared to other London variants, it actually ditches the bit of “The Deal” where Florence is tangibly emotional and riled up by Walter’s offer of her father — she fully dismisses the idea of her father being alive as bullshit, and instead it’s Svetlana who moves her to have doubts when she sees her begging Anatoly to return on video and realizes Svetlana still loves him. I do really like that, by itself, and it’s probably my favorite thing about this version’s portrayal of Florence; her empathizing with Svetlana to the point of feeling genuinely guilty for having taken her husband from her, and believing maybe the right thing to do would be if he went back to Svetlana for her sake, is actually very good, serves as a great lead-in to “I Know Him So Well”, and makes Florence’s character feel far more sympathetic in a production where she’s otherwise pretty lacking in that department. But it leaves us with no emotional connection whatsoever to Florence’s father — we’ve only heard her mention him twice before Walter’s offer, very briefly, in Act I, and not really with any sense that she misses or is all that invested in him. Seeing her reunite with him means nothing for her or her arc; it just comes out of left field, and winds up being another thing slanting this version towards Good Guy Walter, Bad Guy Molokov, what with Walter offering her visas back to the US for both of them seemingly out of the goodness of his heart.

It would have been possible to actually build up to this in a way that would make it satisfying. Florence and Anatoly have several conversations; we could have used some of those to have Florence actually talk about her father and how she feels about him being gone, and that could have been part of building up her relationship with Anatoly, made it meaningful that Anatoly’s parting gift to her is to ensure her father’s return. I suppose Danny Strong’s thought process may have been that if he built up Florence’s father too much, that should become her main concern once Walter brings that into it, and he wanted her concern to be about Svetlana instead, which I guess is fair; it also means Anatoly only really has to dismiss the potential harm to one other person in his obsession with the winning the game. But if you do make the decision to not build up her father, then bringing her father back is not an ending that makes any sense, and there was no need to do this — they could have easily cut out all suggestion of her father being alive entirely and it would only have made things smoother. I think the only reason she gets her father back in this one is in some hasty effort to make Florence’s ending less bleak, but because it doesn’t have any emotional resonance, it’s just not the right way to do that here.

Speaking of Florence and Anatoly, the romance here… once again has some neat, interesting things it’s going for but doesn’t quite come together as a whole. The two of them do have some actual conversations where they bond a bit, which is already a marked improvement over the default London script — but their very first conversation features Anatoly asserting out of nowhere that Florence has “a way of brightening his spirit”, despite not even knowing her, which isn’t super convincing and just comes off kind of creepy-awkward. Florence asserts a few times that he’s sweet and kind, but we don’t really see much of him actually coming across as sweet or kind — his lines tend to be either melodramatic or sardonic moping interspersed kind of jarringly with awkward jokes. He’s less charming or sweet and more like a lonely, kicked dog, which is fine if Florence is into that but doesn’t quite make her descriptions of why she likes him ring true.

This production actually goes back to the concept album a bit when it comes to Florence and Anatoly — namely, more than political manipulation and external pressures forcibly tearing them apart from the outside, there’s a more substantial internal tension between them as Anatoly genuinely simply prioritizes winning the chess match over her and dismisses her as she tries to question him about Svetlana. The two approaches can both work but do different things for the narrative; this internal approach puts more focus on the personal conflict and character drama and makes the relationship more interesting, which is definitely good, and in principle I think this is built up to in a pretty solid way here — Anatoly, raised to become a chess champion to the exclusion of all else, being maddened by the notion of not actually beating Freddie in Act I and needing to prove he deserves the championship to himself in Act II before he can feel “free from chess” works as a coherent reason for him to be so strikingly, unhealthily obsessive about it.

But I think the biggest problem is that Florence and Anatoly individually don’t hit well enough as characters to create investment in them. Florence is ultimately not developed enough and mostly just acts kind of unpleasant, especially to Freddie, all the way up until that Svetlana bit in Act II. More importantly, I just can’t like or understand or sympathize with Anatoly at all, beyond recognizing that core of what his arc is going for. Part of it is probably down to the writing of his lines, which I’m just not a fan of in general. I already named one example from his first scene. Here’s how Anatoly and Florence’s very first conversation starts:

ANATOLY: It’s not his fault. This game drives us all crazy. FLORENCE: I’m fine. Aren’t you even a little bit scared? ANATOLY: Of Trumper? FLORENCE: No, that they’ll kill you if you lose. ANATOLY: Oh. To quote the great Leo Tolstoy, “Even in the valley of the shadow of death, two and two do not make six.” FLORENCE: What does that mean? ANATOLY: I don’t know exactly, but it is very Russian.

I just don’t find this dialogue very convincing. Why is he reciting a dramatic irrelevant quote if he doesn’t know what it means and just thinks it’s “very Russian”? It feels like a generic quippy exchange off a snarky TV show. Does Anatoly use humour to cope with his situation? Not really; this is pretty much the only time he says anything that might be taken as that. This feels like a joke that’s there only to get a laugh out of the audience, not because Anatoly would actually tell it — and consequently, it doesn’t tell us anything real about Anatoly. Meanwhile, Florence responds to this with “Oh, you’re funny,” as if that’s one of the reasons she falls for him when I would decidedly not name that as a character trait he has. I feel like most of his dialogue just doesn’t have a great sense of character — in stark contrast to Freddie, who oozes character. I can’t get a good sense of who he is and how he thinks. He’s just there. And this also makes it harder to see what Florence sees in him and believe in the relationship.

Moreover, this Anatoly just comes across as kind of a terrible person, not in the fun coherent intentional way Freddie is a terrible person but in a flat, confusing and kind of unintentional-seeming way. Svetlana here is actually really sympathetic, with lovely little additional bits of dialogue that make her feelings hit harder (her voice as she tells Anatoly that “You left us!” breaks my heart), and this is possibly my favorite version of Svetlana in any Chess. But Anatoly is really, really terrible to her, by which I don’t even mean the cheating on her but the bit where he keeps angrily insisting to her face that she never loved him and she brainwashed their children to hate him and of course they’re not going to kill her (hey, Anatoly, guess who’s already well aware that the Soviet government in this universe is not above executing people over chess?).

And even that could be made understandable, given his situation — he could just be in hard denial about it because the thought of them having been suffering with him gone and being punished for his actions is so horrific he just shuts it down — but there’s never any sense that that’s what’s really going on. We don’t see him privately upset about the possibility later, for instance — he just keeps insisting the same and dismissing Svetlana to Florence, too. We know it’s not that it’s true — we see Svetlana admit to Molokov that even though he ruined her life and she never wants to see him again she still loves him, and we hear her sing “Someone Else’s Story” and “I Know Him So Well”. Nor do we ever get any hint at exactly what Svetlana or his kids did to make him think this of them, if anything (his own kids!). Anatoly just seems to sort of bitterly, adamantly believe this for no reason at all. And that makes it impossible to empathize with. Okay, sure, Anatoly, you were taken from your family as a child, but that really doesn’t even start to explain any of this. There could have been ways of making it feel at least believable, tragic in a deeply fucked-up way, but the story here just doesn’t do the work. And once again, Anatoly being so unpleasant for no reason just makes it harder to feel at all invested in his relationship with Florence or sad when they part.

The best fix here isn’t quite obvious, and I can’t say I envy Danny Strong trying to put all his neat little ideas together and make them work. If Anatoly were to appear substantially conflicted about Svetlana and put any real stock in Molokov’s threat, that would render “Endgame”, where he doubles down anyway, kind of jarring and inexcusable as he’d be not just refusing to return to her but refusing to care if she is killed. So in order for this to properly work with “Endgame”, he probably does need to be very deep in denial about whether they’d really kill her. I think what I would do, if I were writing this plot where groomed-as-a-chess-champion Anatoly knows the Soviets killed Boris Ivanovich and they’ve threatened to kill Svetlana too, is to emphasize better how irrational Anatoly is being and try to show it more as a consequence of growing up among the constantly plotting KGB.

Let him go off on a proper paranoid rant to Florence about the reasons why he thinks Svetlana is just plotting against him, and some innocuous things he saw his kids do once that mean she brainwashed them. When Florence tries to challenge him on how batshit he sounds, he just storms out, saying she’s being taken in by their lies and just wants to sabotage him, and disappears — and she doesn’t see him again until he appears at the final game and plays this manic, desperate match while insisting to himself that Svetlana and Florence both just never understood him and hated his success. Afterwards, we can perhaps see him finally, quietly asking Molokov if they’re really going to kill her, showing that on some level he already knew the threat might be real and had just firmly blocked it out (in the actual ending as it is Molokov simply tells him unprompted that she really will be punished unless he comes back, and he just asks why with no addressing of his previous adamant insistence that that wouldn’t happen). His and Florence’s final conversation could then involve a bit more of a reckoning with that and with what his relationship with Svetlana was really like, through a more honest lens.

I’m actually pretty tickled by this scenario because that would really drive home a pretty fun parallel between Anatoly and Freddie — which in hindsight I think this version must in fact have been trying for, but didn’t quite do in a focused enough way for it to really hit. Anatoly and Freddie are both chess players with deeply abnormal childhoods and bouts of paranoia that cause them to behave in toxic ways, which ultimately drives Florence away from both of them.

This production shows the first chess game as the “Chess Game” instrumental playing under Freddie and Anatoly having alternating inner monologues about the game and their issues, deliberately drawing a comparison between the two of them; they both say they hate chess, that they don’t feel like real human beings. It’s not exactly subtle, but I liked the way this was used to build up their respective brain gremlins and was intrigued by the parallel being set up. I didn’t feel they ultimately did much with the parallel, though, because the story then didn’t really continue leaning into it much from there. By emphasizing this Anatoly’s paranoia as paranoia and not just as him legitimately thinking the marriage was never real and the KGB wouldn’t kill her, we could properly build the story around that parallel, and I would genuinely dig that.

The one place after the chess match where the actual thing does sort of try to get at the Anatoly/Freddie parallel again is in the dialogue scene that precedes “Endgame”. This scene is not sung (though it has the “Chess Game” instrumental in the background, which connects it neatly to that previous bit comparing the two of them), but it’s clearly based on “Talking Chess”: Freddie approaches Anatoly to tell him Viigand’s weakness lies in his King’s Indian Defense, and:

ANATOLY: Why are you helping me? FREDDIE: Jesus Christ! Am I the only one who cares about this game? ANATOLY: It’s more than a game now. There is so much more at stake than who wins or loses. FREDDIE: No! No, winning is everything. Fuck politics! Fuck the KGB, fuck the CIA, fuck them all! We are the ones who have dedicated our lives to chess. We are the ones who have given up everything for greatness — our childhoods, our sanity, our loves. Anatoly, we’ve sacrificed everything. They’ve sacrificed nothing. What’s the number one rule of a chess champion? ANATOLY: Play to win. FREDDIE: As long as you do that you can never lose, even if you do.

Much as I love “Talking Chess”, though, this on the surface similar scene just didn’t feel right in this context when I listened to it. In Anatoly’s last scene here, he told Florence firmly that he just wanted to win and that his marriage with Svetlana was never real and it’s all KGB mind games. Him going “It’s more than a game now, there’s so much more at stake” suddenly now comes out of nowhere — if he believes that now, it could only be if he actively reconsidered something offscreen, but he doesn’t say anything elaborating on what he’s thinking now or what he might have reconsidered or why, just that vague, generic line that contradicts everything he’s expressed up until this point. It’s another example of Anatoly’s dialogue just feeling really flat and meaningless to me — his lines here don’t say anything, just serve as vague filler to prompt Freddie onward. And because unlike London proper the setup leading up to this is all about him already being absolutely determined to win the game at all costs, this just feels redundant, unnecessary, going through the motions of something that’s in London without realizing that with the changed context it doesn’t quite make sense anymore.

I think that’s unfortunately the case with Freddie a bit here too. I enjoyed Act I’s quite different take on Freddie, and his establishing narration for Act II petulantly stating Anatoly won the championship last year “by forfeit, I might add”, and “The Interview” is recontextualized in a very fun way as I mentioned before — but after that it feels like Danny Strong doesn’t quite know what to do with Freddie anymore and just has him sort of arbitrarily go through the motions of London in a way that doesn’t necessarily hang together with everything he’s established of Freddie so far. It made sense that this Freddie, despite being decidedly hostile towards Walter and the CIA, conducted the interview to show Florence what a bastard Anatoly is — he’s not doing it for Walter, he’s got his own reasons to want to do it once Walter’s shown him the Svetlana video. But I find it a lot harder to swallow that this Freddie — whose usual problem seems to be that he’s compulsively blunt about how he really feels — would then be easily persuaded to play his part in “The Deal”, which involves exaggeratedly trying to be all buddy-buddy with Anatoly. Maybe if there was better setup around it, like with “The Interview” — but “The Deal” only has seconds of kind of half-assed leadup here, and from there it moves directly into “Pity the Child” (after a segue featuring the recording of Oppenheimer quoting the Bhagavad Gita, because nuclear war).

Freddie’s next appearance after that, then, is this “Talking Chess”-esque dialogue where he’s realized the parallel between the two of them, how they’ve both sacrificed everything for chess and the political schemers have sacrificed nothing and that’s why he should play to win. I can appreciate how the low point of “Pity the Child” would trigger that particular realization, contemplating how much he lost and sacrificed to achieve his status in the game and perhaps afterward realizing Anatoly is the only other person here who might understand that. That feels like it basically tracks and is interesting.

But… it also means that fun very specific contempt for Anatoly in particular based on him having left his family like Freddie’s own father did is just kind of… gone, I guess, or at least Freddie doesn’t consider it relevant enough for it to stop him from going out of his way to pep Anatoly up for the game with no mention or hint of it. (At least Freddie probably isn’t aware of the threats made against Svetlana in particular, so he doesn’t know Anatoly winning would shatter his family even further.) And we’ve lost the bit in “Talking Chess” where the notion of the political scheming actually leading to Viigand winning the match just personally offends Freddie because Viigand is not even that good; instead Freddie is just putting forward “Play to win” as some kind of general inviolable chess principle, which is kind of generic and not nearly as characterful, in my opinion. I’m not saying we ought to have had the “Viigand is mediocre” bit here — I don’t think it would quite fit in for this Freddie, whose feelings about chess itself are very conflicted and who is more concerned with showing up these political hacks who have sacrificed nothing while they sacrificed everything — but as a Freddie moment I would really have wanted to end on something stronger there than this vague assertion that “The number one rule of a chess champion is to play to win.”

Like in London, this is Freddie’s last substantial scene, but he does have a part in “Endgame”, and it’s also an interesting one: he gets Sixty-four squares / they’re the reason you know you exist (but not the preceding How straightforward the game…), but also a couple of other verses usually sung by the chorus, and the lines he gets are clearly very purposefully chosen to reinforce that final resolve regarding the sacrifices they’ve made for greatness, which I really appreciate: Listen to them shout / They saw you do it / In their minds no doubt / That you’ve been through it / Suffered for your art and in the end a winner and They’re completely enchanted / But they don’t take your qualities for granted / It isn’t very often / That the critics soften / Nonetheless, you’ve won their hearts / How can we begin to / Appreciate the work that you’ve put into / Your calling through the years / The blood, the sweat, the tears / The late, late, nights, the early starts?

All in all, Freddie is still definitely my favorite part of this Chess, but while the parallel itself is neat it’s too muddled and I find the second half of Act II pretty uneven for him. What would I do if I were writing this bit?

I’m not totally sure how I’d want to tackle “The Deal”, but as for the “Talking Chess”-but-not scene: I would ditch the bit where Freddie is trying to advise Anatoly on strategy and the bit where Anatoly is apparently suddenly not determined to play to win just so Freddie can then tell him he should be again. None of that is contributing anything in what this version has been building up. Instead, they just sort of bump into each other, Anatoly fresh off his paranoid rant to Florence about Svetlana, Freddie fresh off “Pity the Child” and the strange realization Anatoly might be the only person who’d understand him a little bit. At first they just sort of stop and look at each other. Freddie starts, guarded, with some kind of oblique accusatory prod about the leaving his family thing, which he still deeply resents.

Anatoly has calmed down now, but he tells him what he told Florence: that it was always a fake marriage, a fake family, that the video was just a lie set up for him by the KGB, that Svetlana had brainwashed their children to despise him.

This incidentally plays into Freddie’s existing preconceptions pretty well. He’s probably not instantly convinced but it checks out enough he’s willing to reluctantly leave it alone for now. Probably mutters something like, “Fucking Soviets.”

Anatoly says something like, aren’t you going to try to make me a deal to get me to throw the match and go back? Freddie says no, fuck that. Says the whole bit about how we are the ones who have dedicated ourselves to chess, who have sacrificed everything, childhood, sanity, love, and they’ve sacrificed nothing. Why should we listen to those CIA and KGB assholes? Draws out that parallel. The two of them are probably standing in symmetrical positions on the stage.

Anatoly just nods slowly, agreeing. “I would have beaten you.”

Freddie scoffs and says, “Dream on,” but not quite with the spiteful arrogance he would’ve said it in Act I.

Then they part, and we move on to “Endgame”. The scene isn’t about Freddie helping Anatoly, or about Freddie convincing Anatoly to go for the win; it’s about the Freddie/Anatoly parallel, about Freddie realizing it and in his profound loneliness finding a smidge of connection with this guy he hated because he’s the only one who sort of Gets It, and about showing how Anatoly’s conviction has developed since the first chess match where part of his inner monologue went, “I can’t beat him, he’s too good.” Anatoly is so ready to prove that he really is the world’s best chess player.

Conclusion

Man, this version is so interesting. It’s a mess, but it’s a fascinating mess with a bunch of tasty potential and a real sense that Danny Strong had some genuine thoughts on what the show was missing and how to rework it to fix that, even where his attempts were ultimately confused and don’t succeed. In some ways it’s the most me-core version of Chess and in other ways it’s deeply antithetical to me and in most all ways it’s trying to do something neat but does it in a flawed way. Special shoutout to this Freddie, who honestly deserves better than this Florence.

#musicals #chess musical #chess the musical #ramble #review

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