#first of all; george's fate was already sealed. so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mssjynx · 3 years

Text

Mic: ON

dreamnap oneshot 3687 words warnings: steamy!! ao3 link

“Sapnap. Don’t send it.”

Dream’s warning voice held a lot more threat than usual coming through Nick’s headset, and he suspected it was because the two now shared a house. He was all too aware of his friend’s presence only two doors down, and had it just been the two of them, Nick probably would have already given in and saved himself an ass kicking. Dream was a noticeable few inches taller than him, and definitely stronger though Nick would never admit it outloud.

Nick was good at picking his fights.

Or he was, usually.

But with Dream in one ear, and Quackity, George and Karl in the other, he was tiptoeing the line of a very pissed off Dream. The three idiots had been egging him on for the past half hour, begging him to send the video since the moment he’d mentioned having it. And he wasn’t actually going to send it, he just really enjoyed stirring Dream up and he knew the other three found it just as funny.

“Sapnap! Sapnap! Sapnap!” Karl’s chanting overlapped the other two voices, Alex making odd monkey sounds as George laughed himself into hysterics.

“Send it, Sap! You have to show us, you have to.” George’s words were gasped out between wheezes in his comically high-pitched voice that appeared whenever he was losing his mind laughing at something.

Nick knew that if any of them laid their eyes on the video, they would never ever get over it.

He’d captured the valuable video the night prior when Dream had overslept an alarm that he’d set for a recording session with the Among Us crowd. When Nick had crept in there to wake him up, a task he dreaded after the first time he’d done it and successfully pissed Dream off for two full days, he had been met with a sight he never thought he’d see. It was too good to resist flicking out his phone and capturing the moment.

Dream had been splayed out across the bed, three pillows tucked under his back and his head tipped back off the mattress entirely. A trail of dried drool stained his cheek and his slack mouth was releasing a mix of whistling snores and little snuffling sounds as he slept. His fourth pillow was clutched to his chest in a grip that made Nick feel bad for it, white knuckles making Nick gulp as he crept back out of the room and returned to his Discord call to pass on the disappointing news.

He had intended to keep the video to himself, locked away in his phone for a later day of humiliation. He hadn’t intended that later day to be the day following but he made the mistake of mentioning the beautiful video and it had all gone downhill from there.

Karl, George and Alex were relentless when they wanted something, and to say they wanted to see this video was a huge understatement.

“We need to see it, Sapnap, it’s worth the risk! It’s worth it!” Alex pleaded.

“The risk!?” Nick snorted, offended by the lack of care. “I’m gonna get my teeth kicked in, Quackity! The risk is my impending death.”

“It’s worth it, it’s worth it!”

“Vouch!”

Karl and Alex were a terrible influence on each other.

“Guys, Dream’s scawy,” Sapnap said, hoping his baby “uwu” voice would soften Dream’s heart. He knew that whether he sent it or not, Dream was going to kill him for taking it in the first place.

“You haven’t seen ‘scary’,” Dream muttered and Nick shot a weary glance to the door of his office. There wasn’t even a lock.

George whined, adding his own baby voice to the mix, and Sapnap could practically see the stupid pout he was wearing when he begged, “Please, Sap. He won’t actually kill you!”

Dream’s scoff was dry and humourless, “Oh, I will,” and Nick could hear the exhaustion that layered his irritation. He’d been up for over twenty hours editing his upcoming video and keeping the guys company in their streams. He knew that Dream was ready to collapse into bed the second he could, but the risk of his pride held enough weight to keep him upright for the time being.

Nick almost felt bad for him, except he remembered the horrific photo that Dream had shared with their chat less than a month earlier.

This was only payback; well, it would be if Nick was actually going to send it. But he was better than that, he was the bigger man and he also valued having all of his teeth and an unbroken nose.

With a sigh, he reached to click delete on the keyboard to remove the video from the textbox. The ominous ‘Sapnap is typing…’ that sat at the bottom of all of their screens had only added to the excitement (and anger), but he knew that they’d had their fun and it was over. When he tried to snatch up his water bottle at the same time, his device unbalanced in his fingers and the thunk of it hitting the carpet was accompanied by the little “shwoop” sound of a message sending.

Every voice except Dream’s exploded in the call and Nick froze in his chair.

“Oh god,” he whispered, dropping his bottle and scrambling for his phone. “Oh, no, no, no- I didn’t- It was an accident, I dropped my-” His voice was drowned out by Karl and Alex’s cheering, hysterical laughter pouring from George’s end. Dream’s icon vanished from the call and the slam of a door opening reached Nick’s ears.

Dream’s footsteps were loud and angry.

“Guys, guys, GUYS!” His bedroom door burst open and Nick threw off his headphones, ripping the cord from his PC as he stumbled out of his chair. The look on Dream’s face made Nick genuinely fear for his life as he backed up away from Dream.

“Oh my God, he’s so cuuuute!” Karl cooed. George howled with laughter.

Nick had messed up. He had royally screwed himself, and today was the day he was going to die. “Dream, Clay. It was an accident, I was going to delete it and I dropped my phone and- I wasn’t actually going to send it, I swear. I promise. Pinky promise? What if we hug and make up?” Words tumbled off his tongue with panicked desperation but Nick knew a losing fight when he saw it. “Dream?” he tried weakly when Dream stepped forward, but the stoic glare didn’t shift.

He could hear Alex calling Dream’s name, futile attempts at rescuing Nick from certain death. But the laughter that drowned him out only sealed his fate.

He was completely and totally done.

Dream lunged for him and an embarrassingly high-pitched scream ripped from Nick’s throat. He bolted to the bed, clambering over the mattress with his eyes on the open door. But his chances were shot when a rough hand grabbed his ankle, yanking him backwards and off balance. His face slammed into the mattress, cutting off his yelp, and he barely managed to squirm over onto his back before Dream pounced.

“You’re done, Nick,” Dream snarled, and Nick knew that it was his turn to be mortified. He caught Dream by the upper arms, straining as he kept Dream’s hands just inches away from his own shoulders and face. “You’re such an asshole, I told you not to send it!”

“I told you,” Nick gasped, his arms aching as he turned his face away from Dream’s clawing fingers, “I didn’t mean to!”

Dream growled, glaring down at Nick for a second before spitting: “Liar.” and throwing his weight to the side. Nick lost his grip and within seconds Dream had hooked an arm around his back, pinning Nick’s head between his arm and his ribs. The wrestling training Sapnap did back in middle school leapt to the front of his mind as he got his arms around Dream’s middle and tried to push him back. They both grunted and yelped, jabbing fingers into sensitive spots and cursing as they wrestled and fought.

From the computer, the other three were cheering them on, placing bets back and forth. Except they were all betting on Dream and Nick couldn’t even blame them as he scrambled on top of Dream’s back for half a second before he was thrown off.

A jab to his stomach knocked all the air out of him and in seconds he was flat on his back with his arms pinned either side of his head. He gasped for air, face hot and red from exertion as he blinked his dizzy eyes up at Dream.

He made a weak attempt at getting one leg between him and Dream, hoping to plant a foot to his chest and shove him back, but Dream shoved his knee down into the muscle of Nick’s thigh and a shot of pain at the pressure cut his escape attempt off.

The grin on his face made Nick’s head spin faster, though he didn’t know whether it was fear or adrenaline that flipped his stomach like a pancake.

“Dead,” Clay declared, proud and smug as if it was at all a fair fight. He was six foot two for Heaven’s sake.

“Shut up, you’re such a dick,” Nick spat, craning his head off the mattress. The grip on his wrists tightened and Dream pressed them harder into the mattress, leaning his weight into his knee. Nick yelped in pain, wriggling in a weak attempt of dislodging his roommate.

Dream scoffed. “Shouldn’t have sent the video, should you?” His sneer was twisted with a satisfied grin and Nick would have been relieved to see that he was more smug than angry if that smile didn’t trigger every fear sensor in Nick’s body.

“Well, look- Ow- You got me now, so… you don’t have to, uh, kill me or anything! Wouldn’t want you to go to prison now,” he says, awkward chuckle leaving his lips. He hears Karl and George lose it from the computer speakers, quiet but distinct enough to heighten Nick’s irritation. They weren’t helping him at all.

“No chance.” Dream narrowed his eyes. “I want some sort of compensation. You have to let me post whatever I want from your twitter,” and the crooked grin he wore told Nick that his revenge would be far worse than the five second video of Dream snoring.

“No way,” he said, shaking his head and yanking on his arms. The taller man leaned his weight onto his wrists and Nick gave up on fighting. “Get off me, Dream.”

They both ignored the three amigos cheering in the background, this time for Nick’s demise.

Two-faced assholes...

“What’s your password, Nick,” Dream asked, cocking his head to the side with his sly grin. He was, humiliatingly, completely at Dream’s mercy and his stomach twisted at the thought.

It was definitely the first time that they’d been so close to each other; Nick had never been able to see this much detail in Dream’s face. For a moment, he got distracted by the little scar that marred the right side of Clay’s top lip, wondering when and how he’d gotten it. When his lips twitched down into a confused frown, Nick snapped back into the moment with the realisation that he’d been staring at Dream’s mouth.

He snapped his focus back up to Dream’s eyes, unable to miss the way his brows were creased with thought, and pushed a defensive snarl onto his own mouth as he glared up at Dream. “It’s not happening,” he said bluntly, hoping the embarrassed red of his cheeks could be passed off from their wrestling.

Dream’s frown deepened with annoyance. “What’s your password, Nick?” he repeated, pressing his thumb hard into the inside of Nick’s wrist. He watched Nick’s face with an intensity that definitely hadn’t been there a moment ago, murky green eyes flickering over Nick’s features as searching for something specific.

“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!”

“George, you dick!”

“He’s from Florida, man! He’ll do it!”

The pressure on Nick’s inner wrist made him grimace and when Nick forced out a rough: “No, Clay,” he squeezed the other wrist harder, pinching the skin. The jolt of pain mixed with the tingle in his fingertips; Nick sucked in a deep breath and bit down hard on his bottom lip as he desperately tried to think of a way out of this situation.

His train of thought was slammed to a stop when Dream’s eyes snapped down to Nick’s mouth like a magnet, time screeching to a neck-breaking halt. For a moment, neither of them moved. Dream’s grip loosened on Nick’s wrist but he didn’t even consider moving away, unable to focus on anything other than Dream’s gaze locked on his mouth and his own heartbeat slamming in his chest, in his throat, in his head.

His lip slipped out from between his teeth, and out of reflex, he flicked his tongue to soothe the sting, and he could not ignore the way Dream sucked in a breath sharply through his teeth. Nick watched his pupils swell and he couldn’t say anything about Dream’s pink cheeks because he knew his own were just as warm.

And then it was like a flip was switched. Dream clenched his jaw, eyes flicking back up to Nick’s with a clarity that caught him off guard. “Fine,” Dream said, voice low and even. He stuck his tongue in his cheek for a moment of thought, and Nick tried desperately to keep up with the hidden thoughts behind Dream’s eyes. “Have it your way.”

Those words ran through Nick’s mind just once, before one wrist was released. Before he could even think to make his escape, rough fingers caught him by the jaw, tipping Nick’s head back as a grin flashed over Dream’s lips.

Then those lips were on Nick’s.

Dream kissed him and he kissed him hard, sinking his teeth into Nick’s bottom lip without waiting for a response. The jolt of pain dragged a grunt from Nick’s mouth, and he pressed it up against Dream’s, allowing the thumb on his chin to drag his lips apart. Clay kissed him hard and deep and hot and Nick gave it back just as rough and unforgiving.

His free hand jumped to the back of Dream’s head, threading fingers through loose blonde hair as he tilted his head up into the kiss. He craned his head up off the mattress, nipping at Dream’s tongue when it flicked his top lip. With a fistful of hair in his hand, he smirked into the kiss and yanked hard, dragging Clay’s mouth off him so he could gasp in a breath of air.

It was only a moment before Dream caught Nick by the wrist, shoving his hand back down into the mattress. Except this time, he slipped his fingers up, interlocking them with Nick’s as he kissed him. He pressed his tongue past Nick’s lips, growling at the sharp bites Nick delivered in return.

He’d forgotten about Clay’s knee on his thigh until the pressure vanished, Dream instead using his knee to push Nick’s leg to the side. It only felt natural to drag his knee up, dragging his ankle along the backside of Dream’s legs and pulling on the back of his thigh.

Even when they were kissing, they were fighting. Nick tried to press up against Dream, squirming and yanking on his wrists all the while trying to chase Dream’s tongue back into his own mouth. “Dream,” he growled when the Clay once again blocked Nick’s tongue, shoving his head back down against the mattress.

“Shut up,” Dream snarled, shifting his knee up the mattress between Nick’s legs. It wasn’t close enough and Nick’s underwear was too tight and too hot for him to handle. He bit back an irritated whine, and blushed at the smirk on Dream’s face.

“You’re such a dick,” Nick bit, squirming when Dream put both of his wrists together and with one hand, held them both down. His other hand caught Nick by the jaw as he scanned the Texan boy’s flushed face and kiss-worried lips, holding him still despite how Nick shifted and fought, wanting to get his hands on Dream’s shoulders, in his shirt, in his hair.

He was frustratingly intoxicating and Nick could not get enough. Dream who smelt like heat, like sweat and aftershave. Dream who dug his fingertips into Nick’s jaw and chin, grinning while he tilted Nick’s head back so he could kiss him deeper.

The tongue that pressed into Nick’s mouth was hot and greedy as it teased his own, and Nick could feel the smug glee that oozed from the man above him. “Takes one to know one,” he whispered against Nick’s cheek, before pushing Nick’s head all the way back and dropping his mouth to the curve of his throat.

Somewhere in the back of Sapnap’s head, he registered that he could still hear the other boys. Their conversation, the video, the fight; it felt so much further away with Dream’s tongue abseiling down his neck, and numbly he wondered if the boys had forgotten they were there.

The sweet trail of kisses that crept up the side of his neck were followed by a sharp bite to the skin just below Nick’s ear, and he couldn’t stop the cry from spilling from his mouth. Grinning lips and a cruel tongue smothered the stinging pain as Nick groaned; words of: “Fuck you, that hurt,” being followed by a moan he couldn’t bite back when Clay’s hand disappeared from his jaw and reappeared between his legs, pressing flat to Nick’s straining arousal. The flush of pleasure that wasn’t quite enough dragged a helpless whimper from his tongue as Nick tried to grind up into the touch only to have it vanish altogether. “Clay-” he moaned at the greedy sucking on his neck, loud and desperate and without a touch of shame. “Fuck, touch me- Please,” he gasped.

And that right there was his second screw up of the night.

“Woah, WHAT!?”

“FUCK, no, my ears!”

“Oh God, oh no, that’s- they’re not fighting anymore, that’s not fighting!”

The clamour of voices exploded from Nick’s computer, their previous quiet conversation completely forgotten as all three men’s heads were undoubtedly flooded with scenes they didn’t want to imagine, ever.

Dream vanished from on top of Nick within seconds, bolting to the computer as Nick scrambled to sit upright. His face was burning hot and he could barely catch his breath as he watched Dream smack a few buttons on the computer before rounding on him.

His own cheeks were flushed bright red and the look of alarm would have made Nick laugh had their situation not been as embarrassing as it was for the both of them. “You didn’t mute your mic!?” Dream demanded and Nick stared back at him in disbelief.

“What, was I supposed to anticipate that!?” he snapped back, squirming under Dream’s dirty look. He was still embarrassingly turned on from their… activities, and he had no idea what was even going to happen now.

They were best friends who lived together, not horny teenagers who jumped each other when they got a little bit worked up!

Dream rubbed his face with his hands, taking a deep breath and holding it. After a second of silence, he let it out with an exhausted laugh, shaking his head as he lifted it to look back over at Nick. “Well, that’s going to be an uncomfortable conversation,” he said simply, and Nick couldn’t help but laugh as well. What else was there to do?

“At least they weren’t streaming,” he offered and Dream snickered at the thought, tapping a few more buttons until the screen went black. Nick dropped back onto the mattress, hands on his face as he took a few breaths. His heart was still racing like crazy, and the pressure between his legs was starting to ache.

When he pushed back up onto his forearms, dropping a hand to readjust himself as he lifted his gaze to Dream. Sharp, green eyes were locked on him, more specifically his hand, which paused in its movements under the intense stare.

Nick watched with bated breath as a small smile twisted Dream’s lips, eyes dragging up over Nick as if considering all the things he could do to him. Wondering what was going through Clay’s head made Nick’s stomach drop and head spin. Dream slowly returned to the edge of the bed and Nick sat up further, unsure if he felt more scared of excited by the look in Clay’s eyes. He moved to drag his legs back towards him, but before he could get very far, Dream’s hands were locking onto his ankles, one hard pull dragging Nick to the edge of the mattress.

He tipped his head back to look up at Dream, biting his tongue when Dream cupped his cheek, running his thumb along his bottom lip.

“That’s an issue for another day,” Dream said, wetting his lip with his tongue as he tipped Nick’s head back further. He shifted back, arms barely holding him up as he tilted his head away from Dream’s hand.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, a nervous laugh dropping from his mouth as he scooted back further.

Dream nodded, grin unfazed as he crawled onto the mattress. A hand to Nick’s chest pushed him back onto the mattress, another hand sliding up the inside of Nick’s leg. “Yeah,” Dream said, ghosting his fingers over the front of his sweats and watching Nick bite back a whimper. “Kinda busy right now.” He dipped down, capturing Nick’s mouth in another kiss; this one sweeter and softer than any of their others. He coaxed a soft sound from Nick’s throat, sucking his bottom lip and drawing his tongue out to flick against his own.

“Busy?” Nick gasped when Dream pulled back for a breath, both hands falling to the waistband on Nick’s sweatpants.

“Yeah,” he said with a sly grin, “Really busy.”

#dreamnap #dream #sapnap #fic #fanfic #steamy fic #this is the first and closest thing ive written to smut #in literally 9 months #so #go easy on me but let me know what u think- i know its messy #but i tried my best and i like it :)

201 notes · View notes

winterscaptain · 3 years

Text

players.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it's loving haley hotchner hours!! hope you enjoy :) as always, let me know what you think!

words: 1.3k warnings: none

summary: “what is that unforgettable line?” - samuel beckett. au!november 2008

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

“Has Aaron ever told you how we met?”

“I know you two met in high school, but that’s about the extent of it.”

Haley laughs and puts her drink down. “You’re in for a real treat, then. Come with me.”

It’s one of those afternoons in which Aaron’s taken Jack to go have some fun for a little while, leaving you and Haley at the house. It’s been nice to rest while your shoulder slowly knits together again, nice to chat and channel surf. Really, it’s been nice to have a friend at all.

She leads you to the garage, where built-ins support stacked boxes all the way to the rafters. There’s so much stuff. A few boxes are on the floor, packed with a few George Washington University sweatshirts, a law textbook, and a few framed photos of Jack.

You’d hazard a guess that’s close to the last box Aaron has here.

Haley bypasses it in favor of a more aged box on the back. She becomes you over and unearths it, opening it. You are by no means prepared for what awaits you.

The box is full of faded framed photos and stacked scrapbooks, some with Haley’s handwriting on the front and others with typeset. Haley pulls one scrapbook in particular, the pages warped with age and stuffed with various momentos.

“This is the first one I ever made, starting the spring of my freshman year of high school. Aaron shows up…” She flips through the pages. They crackle under her fingers. “...here.”

She turns the book and you take it in your hand, balancing the bottom while she bears the weight. As always, her thoughtful conscientiousness almost brings a smile to your face.

In the scrapbook, little polaroids litter one side, while the other has a playbill cover. A “Players” page is pasted in, with two names left uncovered by doodles.

Haley Renee Brooks

Aaron Hotchner

One of the photos catches your eye. “Is that…?”

“Aaron in tights and a pirate hat? Yes.”

This is gold.

You bring the book closer to you and flip through it carefully with Haley’s help, finding more evidence of Aaron’s brief stint as a thespian. He’s undeniably adorable as a teenager. He looks different, of course, but between the hair and the eyes -

And that smile

You recognize the man you’ve come to know.

Haley, of course, is also adorable. The mid-eighties look cute on her. She looks mostly the same as she does now. Her jawline is more defined, the beginnings of smile lines starting to form around her eyes and mouth, but those are only indicators of the twenty-five years between the photo and the woman before you.

“If you tell him I showed you this, no I didn’t.”

You laugh, passing the book back to her. “Scout’s Honor. Total silence. I will, however, require copies of these for blackmail purposes.”

She rolls her eyes. “Over my dead body, darling.”

You look around for a moment before asking. “So… what exactly does that have to do with how you met?”

“I prefer the way he tells it,” she says, “because when I tell it I look like I’m padding my ego, but…”

Her blue eyes wander as she tells you about the boy who landed in the wrong classroom on August 20th, 1985 at 2:13pm, as if she’s seeing it as she’s telling the story. Maybe she is.

The nameless senior was tall, lanky, and looked rather brittle. He hadn’t grown into his limbs yet and there’s a hawkish look in his eye. He met Haley’s curious gaze. She smiled at him.

It’s only a moment before the boy leaves for the right classroom.

“He had the building number wrong. It’s no surprise, really. Our schedules were copied by hand, as copy machines were expensive. The guidance counselor’s handwriting was nearly illegible, but it sealed our fates.”

She goes on to tell you that the boy came back the next day, enrolled in the class for the duration of the semester.

“He then, bravely, became the worst third pirate in the history of theatre just to impress me.” She pauses, a little pensive. “He told me a couple of years ago that the day came into the wrong classroom was the same day he knew he was going to marry me.”

The admission brings a flush to her cheeks and a fond smile to her lips. You can see the affection written all over her as she recalls the memory. She shakes her head and puts the scrapbook back, closing the box and leading you out of the garage.

“We started dating when the show closed. It was silly, of course, and very high school, as relationships went. We only kept going because he was so close for college - just over the bridge into the district.”

You follow her back into the house. “Did you guys ever break up?”

She snorts. “All the time.”

That makes you laugh. You can hardly picture it.

“I’m sure you can imagine how rational and reasonable I was at sixteen,” she says, her voice full of jest. “I put him through hell, but Aaron was always impossibly patient with me, even and especially when I didn’t deserve it.”

“Really?”

“Really. I know he’s probably...not that way at work, but even through all of this -” she gestures vaguely to the air around you and you know she means the divorce. “- he’s always been that way with me.”

You’ve seen Hotch at home now more than a few times and it’s been illuminating to see the changes in him as he crosses the threshold. Reconciling those differences in him, knowing Haley better, it all paints a layered, detailed portrait of someone you already care about.

Haley catches your attention again when she speaks. “I’m glad he has people watching out for him.” There’s a strange, almost sad, smile on her face. “He gets lonely.”

+++

When Aaron pulls up in the driveway, you and Haley are stuck watching whatever movie you landed on when you got to talking, too attached to give it up.

The door opens and Aaron sets Jack on his feet, helping him with the tiny zipper on his coat before attending to his own.

“How was your day, boys?” Haley gets up and goes to the kitchen, where you know a little tupperware full of cut fruit waits for Jack.

You offer him a little wave as he catches sight of you and processes your presence. Hey.

“Well,” he says. “How was your day, Jack? Want to tell Mom about it?”

The pass-off is funny to you, but you suspect Aaron doesn’t want to oversell it.

“So fun!” He runs and jumps onto the couch as Haley rounds the corner.

Her eyes are bright, animated, when she asks, “What did you and Daddy do?” She sits next to her son, her feet pulled under her as she leans on the back of the couch.

As Jack relays the events of the afternoon, there’s an odd moment when Aaron catches himself. He reaches down to ruffle Haley’s hair, but freezes with his hand outstretched. You can see the wheels turning in his head and you almost feel bad for catching him at all.

HIs hand closes and he shoves it into his pocket before he sits down in the armchair beside your end of the couch with a sigh. You pretend to be completely focused on Jack, so as to not embarrass him.

“So,” he asks you. You turn. “How was your day?”

There’s a moment where you share a little look, maybe even a laugh.

“Good. My day was good.”

“Good.”

+++

tagging: @missdowntonabbey @criminalsmarts @qvid-pro-qvo @hurricanejjareau @prentisswrites @forgottenword @deagibs @ssahotchnerr @unicorn-bitch @capricorngf @duchesschameleon @mrs-dr-reid @teamhappyme @averyhotchner @reidingmelodies @ambicaos @kelstark @genevievedarcygranger @mandylove1000 @starsandasteroids @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @iconicc @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @itsalwaysb33nyou @hqtchner @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @mac99martin @ssahotchner99 @jhiddles03 @nuvoleincielo @rqgnarok @reidyoulikeabook @schlooper @ssagube @lexieshuntingsstuff @ohhersheybars @marvelousmsmaggie @whosscruffylooking @teachingpanda @panhoeofmanyfandoms @anxious-enby @yougottalovefandoms @saspencereid @insideafictionaluniverse @lumoshotch @chvngbin @mxrcury-styles @enchantingwastelandexpert @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @joanofarkansass @luciilferss @quillvine @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @writefasttalkevenfaster @yougottalovefandoms @this-broken-band-girl @pinkdiamond1016 @suranne-doesstuff

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

201 notes · View notes

toutallyahoe · 3 years

Note

I really liked your percy (weasley) fic!! can you do some headcanons with a male reader post battle of hogwarts?

a/n: hallo there anon and im happy to hear you liked my percy weasley fic! i really had fun writing it

and post battle you say...? :)

well, you didnt specify having [name] surviving now... didnt you?

just joking

... unless...?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

let me first start with percy and [name] STILL hadn't been wed yet

[name] did say that he wants to marry percy when all the "drama" is over

so, before and in the Hogwarts battle, [name] and percy were still fiancee

the weasleys were rather very happy by the news, although they are a bit sad that they can not tell percy face to face with the whole disagreement of percy and his family

both sides are happy to have [name] at least update them what the other is currently doing

molly cries every time she hears percy overworking himself and is thankful for [name] by being with her baby boy's side

arthur was also happy and saddened since he cant tell percy how proud he was on the engagement since percy wouldnt answer any of his letters

the weasley children were also having mix feelings

of course they were happy with percy, their sibling, engaged to [name] (who they were close too aswell) but also a bit bittered because, again, they are currently having a fight with percy taking the side of the ministry of magic's side than dumbledore's

but again, they are happy for him. [name] is a good lad and they will always support their relationship

fred and george jokes that [name] is too good for percy tbh and ginny just giggling because she always knew that someday [name] was going to propose to her brother

charlie and bill were also so happy for their little brother despite the feud they have and ron was having mix emotions aswell but was ultimately happy for his brother

either way, the weasleys were happy for percy

anyways, with that out of the way, i literally have two possibility in the post battle of Hogwarts and i feel like you wont like one of those possibility which is kinda sad because i really liked that one and if i do make a part two, thats the side im leaning on

but ANYWAYS— happy ending!!!!

after the battle of hogwarts, after defeating the dark lord, with so many tragedy and deaths, percy was so fucking happy to see [name] by the end of the battle

percy already witnessed his brother, fred almost die

and YES fred is alive, fuck you i want happiness for these fuckers okay? canon is a bitch and im going to make her MY bitch. that terf author can go and suck my d

anyways, percy would literally lose it if he had lost [name] in the battle

percy already fears a lot whenever he is away from [name] from the guy being an auror

so, seeing [name], a bit bloodied and bruised with blood, soot and sweat sticking on his [skin color] skin, percy wasted no time to fucking run and jump on his fiancee

percy let out choke sobs when he hugged [name]

[name] was alive and percy was so happy

[name] was also crying a bit as he held percy tightly in his arms

his wand forgotten on the ground as his only focus was percy who was shaking and sobbing in his arms

[name] wasted no time whispering how happy he was to see percy

that [name] even admitted that he was petrified when he asked people where percy was and didnt gotten an answer where the ginger was, and he assumed the worse

but seeing percy, feeling the male on his arms shaking and crying, [name] was so relieved

percy was alive

he was alive

they both were fucking alive

percy admits his own fears of [name] dying aswell

and [name] just let out a pitiful chuckle as he broken the hug and immediately grabbed percy's face softly, his thumb wiping percy's tears as he sent percy a shaky grin

"you bloody git, i would never!" [name] says, his tone shaky as tears fell down his eyes. "i promised i would marry you after this, didnt i?"

oh merlin, the two were sobbing mess after that

the two were beyond terrified in the war

they never expected this and when they participated, they were expecting the worst

but here they are now, alive and together

skip after the clean up and the ceremony of the wizards and witches who had fallen in the battle, percy and [name] planned their wedding

percy and his family are obviously in good terms again which was great

fred recovered from his wounds and back along with george on teasing the fuck outta percy

ginny gushing on how the wedding would go along with molly

ron talking to [name] along with charlie, bill and arthur about it aswell and just welcoming [name] to the weasley family

it was just great

when the wedding day had arrived, it was only a small ceremony

but it was still perfect in both [name] and percy's eyes

when the vows were exchange and the rings on their ring fingers, percy felt the whole world just stops for a moment when [name] wasted no time to seal their fate together with a kiss

it was just so much passion and percy cried a little when reality had came crushing down

he was married to the man that he loved

the man who had been with him in hogwarts until this day

his friend, his love, his [name]

percy was so happy

it was just a blur after that

after the wedding ceremony and the small party to celebrate their marriage

percy had to say his farewell's to his family

it was saddening to see his mum crying about him leaving but percy was also so happy to hear her words

"im so proud of you, son. now go and be happy with [name]!"

arthur was also congratulating him aswell as sobbing

his son was all grown up now

charlie and bill patting percy's back and telling their little brother was a man now

fred and george teasing percy on [name]'s plan on the honeymoon (which had percy looking like his own hair after the twins teasing comments)

ron and ginny just gushing on his marriage

percy would miss his family, but looking at [name] who had a grin on his lips, percy was happy

he was part of the [last name] family now and god, percy was happy to be married to the love of his life

#ask #2 #tou responds #percy x male reader #seme male reader #top male reader #male reader #x male reader #male reader insert #percy weasley #hp percy #percy weasley x male reader #headcanons #hcs #headcanons request #hp #harry potter x male reader #harry potter #eyy first post in 2021 :D

217 notes · View notes

wolfs-hunt1 · 3 years

Text

Draco x reader

Pairing: Draco x Gryffindor reader

Summary: Your final game of quiditch of the season and your team wins, leading to a after party in the room of requirements with your boyfriend

Word count: 1635

A/N: I’ve started this last year and only now got around to finishing it, I’m so sorry it’s bad

Warnings: under age drinking, sorry for any typo

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

Being a chaser had its perks. For one, it improved your reflexes outside of the pitch, so you were one of the best snowball fighters Hogwarts has ever seen during the winter months. And for another, you looked hot in your Quidditch robes. But being a chaser for the team wasn't always fun and games.

There were no dull moments during the game, to which you were actually thankful for, there was always something to do always someplace to be, and five other chasers to pay attention to, not to mention the other players. This also meant that there was never a moment where you could stop to rest. You would always have to pay attention. One distraction and it could mean the other team's Chaser took the quaffle and could score 10 points, and that could mean losing the match on some occasions.

Not quite like a Seeker, where all they did was sit atop a broom the entire game searching for a little golden ball. That ought to be boring, although the longer the game dragged on the more prone to tiredness one would get, despite what position they occupied.

This was the last game of the season, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. The most awaited match, the most rival teams, both with the most to lose. The winning team would win the Quidditch cup and seal the fate of the year, bringing great pride to their house, and they head of the house.

The score was 200 to 190, Gryffindor on the lead, it was a very head-to-head game, each team never letting the other score too much before closing in on the difference, and the golden snitch was nowhere to be found. Not that you had had a moment to look around, but you could see, from the corner of your eye, the two seekers zooming in and out searching for it.

In fact, despite the fact that you couldn't see him, you felt his gaze on you more than once throughout the game. His grey icy eyes lingering on you whenever he flew overhead, his silver and green robes matching his pale blond hair, making it hard to miss him. In fact, his smirk was so annoying that the next time he flew close to you, you didn't even budge, colliding into his side and steering him off course before continuing with the quaffle to the opposing team's goalposts. His chuckled laugh the last thing you heard. He was so smug his team was going to win he wasn't even paying attention out for the snitch!

You looked over to Harry for just one second, only to find him focused on the game. 'Now that is a true seeker. You could learn something from him Malfoy.' you thought with a snarky grin before scoring the next goal. The two teams were once more tied when Slytherin scored 5 min later. Catching the snitch would be the only way to win the game if the scores were kept this close together.

Getting the grip on your broom tighter you zoom out of the way of the bludger one of the Slytherin beaters had thrown at you, barely avoiding getting hit by it and plummeting down to the ground below. You quickly regained the balance of your broom and angled it upwards, getting back to the game as if nothing had happened, but keeping a keen eye out for those beaters. You could see Fred shadowing you a bit more closely after that though, keeping the bludgers away from your vicinity.

You manage to intercept the quaffle and quickly make your way to the opposing goal posts, throwing the quaffle in the air and making a somersault with your broom, hitting the quaffle with its bristles, and scoring another 10 points to Gryffindor, making the crowd cheer out your name when all of a sudden the crowd goes silent, only Lee Jordan screaming out what was happening outside of your field of view.

Apparently, both Harry and Draco had spotted the elusive golden snitch and were both toe to toe after it, everyone was holding in their breaths and even the remaining players had stopped playing to look at the seekers themselves, hearing on for their respective team member.

Most of the remainder of the game was a blur in the back of your mind. Harry had caught the snitch, and the entire Gryffindor house was at the pitch chanting the house name at the top of their lungs and carrying the Quidditch players above their heads, making you feel like you were floating in the air without the help of a broom.

Your ears kept the ringing from all the screaming, even after you were in the locker room, only the water from the shower making noise around you, washing out the sweat of the game from your body.

The Gryffindor tower was able with the after-party, which really started in the great hall during dinner and was brought back here so as to spare the Slytherins some of the humiliation the green-clothed pompous students were feeling.

Escaping the party was near impossible though, because either Freed or George always found you trying to sneak by partying students and manage to drag you right back to the thick of it, giving you another shot of firewhiskey they had managed to smuggle inside without the teacher's knowledge. You were starting to feel a bit hazy, but all the party noise was making your head pound more than it should on the basis.

So, after your fourth attempt at escaping, and after making sure both twins were busy with a small favor requested of Angelina, you finally managed to slip past them and the Fat Lady portrait, and slowly, so as not to trip over your own feet, making your way down the stairs, with the room of requirements as your destination.

Passing for a few seconds in front of the corridor the door to the room of requirements started to slowly appear, and as soon as it was fully visible you slipped inside, letting the door close behind you soundlessly. The room was too different from what you remembered from last year, the rows of piled-up furniture now contrasting with the way the room previously looked, despite it being able to change.

But this did provide you with some privacy in your nightly escapades since you could just hide behind a particularly dome-shaped pile and hope to not be noticed by anyone else. You made your way to this corner and noticed that he was already there, waiting for you atop the blankets and pillows you both had eventually brought there to make the corner more comfortable to spend the copious amounts of time you two spent there.

"You sure took your sweet time." the blond grumbled at you, pulling you to his lap once you were close enough, making you straddle his waste and sit comfortably on his thighs.

"Sorry, I had some trouble with getting away noticed." you slurred a bit on some words, making him push you a bit off his lat so he could look at you more clearly.

"Are you drunk?" he asked, with a scandalous tone on his lips, "And you didn't even wait to get drunk with me. I'm offended." his smirk was too distracting, though, making you not pay too much attention to his teasing words.

"Just shut up and kiss me, you git."

"With pleasure." the blonde says, raising his wands to your face and cupping your cheeks while his lips tentatively searched for your at first until he gained more intensity, kissing you like he was a starved man looking at a feast for the first time in forever.

"I'm sorry your team lost." you whisper in between kisses, moving your harms from his waist to his neck, getting closer to his body heat.

Draco stops kissing you for a second to look deep into your eyes, before answering: "I don't mind we lost, I got to stare at you play the entire time, and let me tell you, you were amazing. Just... don't tell my father that, he always expects ME to be more than great."

"Well, I did notice you totally spaced out during the game, but if I had known I was the cause of it, I would have made sure to acknowledge my fan." you giggle out at him, pecking his lips when he pouts a bit at you.

"So I've brought this for us to celebrate one of us winning, but I guess you already started celebrating without me." Draco says, pulling out a bottle of firewhiskey from under his robes.

"I tried to get away sooner, but neither Fred nor George were having it, since I scored most goals for the team. But I'm here now to celebrate with you." he smiles at you and pours out some of the bottle's contents into two glasses, passing you one of them and toasting with you.

"To us, for the last game of the season, for the final days of the school year. For our two years together, and keeping it out of others noses." he laughs a bit when you mention that last part, remembering how hard it had been to keep your relationship hidden from every nosy person in the castle for this past two years, allowing the two of you to enjoy more together and giving no satisfaction to others.

For now, the two of you remain in your bubble, drunken kisses and cuddles leading to a sleepover in the room of requirements, and to a blissful few more moments together before having to catch the train to return home for summer vacations, until next school year rolled around bringing the two lovers back together once again.

#Harry Potter #draco x reader #draco malfoy #hogwarts #room of requirement #quiditch #seeker #chaser #lovers #secret lover #forbidden love #slytherin #gryffindor #gryffindor reader #gryffindor x slytherin #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x gryffindor #draco malfoy x gryffindor reader #My writing

51 notes · View notes

vnderoos · 4 years

Text

all this way ❁ stiles stilinski

au. (gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language, so many clichés. word count / 7.5k

masterlist in bio ↴

Y/N DIPPED HER hand into the giant, plastic bowl of snacks between her and Stiles, but her eyes remained glued to the tv screen, following the swirling movements of thrumming lightsabers. She took a handful of their famous movie theater mix—which consisted of popcorn, pretzels, m&m's, and mini marshmallows—and she dumped it into her mouth. "I want a lightsaber so bad," she confessed after she'd swallowed her food.

Stiles laughed softly, grabbing some of their junk food combo for himself. "You say that every time," he pointed out, looking at her from his side of the mattress as he crunched down on a pretzel.

She shrugged at his observation, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, and she picked up another handful of food. "I know but that doesn't make it any less true," she explained. "I mean, who wouldn't want a weapon that could literally burn somebody's arm off," she elaborated, acting out the scenario with an imaginary lightsaber for emphasis.

He shook his head at her antics but he smiled nonetheless. "I guess that'd be pretty cool, actually," he admitted with a small twitch of his shoulders, popping a piece of popcorn and a marshmallow into his mouth after he did. "With all the bullshit that's happened to us these past few years, a lightsaber would've come in handy," he added.

Y/N poured the rest of the snacks that were sitting in the palm of her hand into her mouth and nothing but sweetness flooded her tastebuds. She nodded knowingly at Stiles. "See? Point proven," she said. "Plus, it would be a really cool to just whip that baby out at a party in college or something, too. Maybe cut a pillow in half or something or slice a solo cup out of someone's hand, you know?"

"I'm sure you'd do that more than cutting arms off," he told her and she laughed.

"Touché." With a soft smile on her lips, she sat up straighter and moved to sit cross-legged on top of his mattress. "Speaking of college, though, did you ever get your letter from G-Dub?" She questioned, talking about his letter from George Washington University.

During their senior year, Stiles and Y/N had applied there in hopes that maybe they would get to go to their dream school together, but as a backup, they'd also applied to Beacon Hills Community College. She'd received her admissions letter that morning, though, and she was wondering if Stiles had gotten his, too.

At her question, he nodded his head and he pointed to a small, white envelope sitting on his bedside table. "It came yesterday," he told her and her heart fluttered in his chest. He hadn't told her that, but then again, she hadn't told him about hers yet, either. "I was waiting until you got yours because you said you wanted to open them together. Did yours come in yet?"

"Yeah, I brought it with me just in case," she answered and she reached into one of the side pockets of her backpack, which sat on the floor beside her, and she pulled out an envelope identical to the one on Stiles' nightstand. She tossed it onto the mattress in front of her and she looked over at him. "Do you think we should open them right now?" She asked, almost nervously.

Even though Y/N had always been the type to mull over every possible outcome for a scenario like this, she'd be lying if she said she hadn't tried her very best to think positively about this one. Ever since the idea popped in her head that she and Stiles might end up at the same college across the country, she'd put every part of herself towards believing that it was gonna pan out the way that they'd planned.

The community college was her fallback for her education, but if something were to go wrong, she'd never wanted to think about finding a backup best friend. As far as she was concerned, they either both got in or neither of them did, as unrealistic as that was.

Stiles was quiet for a minute as he looked at the envelope on his bed and he nodded once. "Yeah, I mean, now's as good a time as any, I guess," he said and he gestured to his letter. "Would you pass me mine?"

Y/N nodded and she leaned back, turning to the side a bit so she could snatch the letter off of the wooden surface. "Should we do it at the same time?" She asked, uncertainty playing in her voice, as she handed him his letter and he nodded.

"Sure, we'll just get it out of the way." He took the letter softly in his hands, like one wrong move would decide his fate, and he brushed his thumb over the blue and buff letters. "I have a good feeling about this, though," he told her and he flashed her a toothy grin.

As much as she wanted to say the same, she couldn't deny the pattering of her heart or the twisting of her stomach as she plucked her envelope off of his bed. The way the two-dimensional Colonial stared up at her felt like it was taunting her, which honestly wouldn't surprise her, all things considered. She tried to push the negative thoughts from her mind for Stiles' sake, though, and she managed a small smile. "Yeah, me, too," she lied. Her thumb brushed at the lip of the envelope nervously and she looked up at Stiles. "You ready?"

She could see the excitement on his face mingle with his nerves for the split second he doubted himself before nodding. "Yeah, let's do it," he told her.

Y/N tore into her letter a little slower than Stiles did, both of their fingers ripping up the seals that trapped their futures inside. She pulled the piece of paper out from the inside and let the envelope fall into her lap. Part of her wanted to just stare at it and leave it folded, hoping that maybe that would let her stay in this stage of her life forever—the in-between stage.

Where everything was easy.

She didn't, though. She straightened out the paper and her eyes skimmed over the first line, her heart pounding in her ears like a drumroll.

Whatever it said was the beginning of the rest of her life.

Dear Miss Y/L/N, ⠀⠀⠀⠀We regret to inform you—

We regret to inform you.

⠀⠀⠀⠀We regret to inform you that your application to George Washington University has been denied.

She didn't get in.

Y/N's heart sunk immediately and it was like someone vacuumed all the air out of her lungs. She looked up from her letter to see Stiles, with his eyes twinkling brightly and a big ol' smile plastered to his face, and she could only assume that his status was quite the opposite. She suppressed every feeling that started to weigh her down. "What does yours say?" She asked like she didn't already know, but Stiles deserved to share his triumph for once.

Stiles let out a laugh of disbelief and he turned his letter around so she could see. His Congratulations stared her right in the face and her chest swelled for him, even if it aches for herself. "I got in," he told her, pointing at the page and she couldn't help but smile. "Y/N/N, I got in," he repeated excitedly.

She laughed softly and she nodded, pushing his wrist down gently with one of her hands. "I see, Stiles," she said, "and I'm so proud of you," she told him. This is what he'd wanted for the longest time and it was only fitting that he got it.

"What about you?" He asked. "Did you get in?"

At that, her smile faltered and she looked down at her paper, running her thumb over the printed letters. "Yeah, well, that's the thing." She sighed and she turned her letter around. It was probably stupid, but showing her letter to Stiles felt like one of the hardest things she'd ever done. It was like she was tearing down the foundation of the future they'd built together. She couldn't help the fact that she didn't get accepted and she definitely couldn't change it, but even so, it made her feel like she'd let Stiles down.

His honey-glazed eyes flitted over the page and his face dropped. "They rejected you," he stated matter-of-factly, but it was more to himself than to her.

Hearing him say it was almost like solidification of the fact. "Yeah, but it's okay. You got in and that's all that matters," she told him and he shook his head.

"I'm not going without—"

"Oh, don't be stupid, Stiles, this is your dream school," Y/N rebutted before he even had the chance to finish. "You're going." There was no way in hell that she was gonna let him turn down his dream school just so he could go to a community college with her. It just wasn't happening. The fact that he even considered it was ridiculous.

Stiles grabbed both of their letters and set them off to the side. "But it's your dream school, too," he told her.

Y/N shook her head softly and she did her best to smile at him. "Still. It's okay, Stiles," she promised. "It's okay," she repeated, more for herself than for him that time.

"Y/N/N—"

"It's okay," she said again, her voice breaking as she did. The harder she tried to hold herself together, the more she felt herself coming apart. "It's really okay."

And that was the last time she said it before she split at the seams, all of her strength just dissipating. Her resolve crumbled and the tears that had been stinging in the spaces behind her eyes this whole time came dripping down her cheeks.

Stiles was quick to reach out to her. "Hey, hey," he whispered, cupping her cheeks in his warm hands and swiping every fresh tear away with the pads of his thumbs. He then moved to wrap his arms around her shoulders and he pulled her into his chest.

Warmth surrounded her the second that he pulled her into him and she shifted for a second to drape her legs over his lap, sliding her arms around his torso. Y/N touched her forehead to his shoulder and closed her eyes, letting the comfort he brought her work against her disappointment. "I don't know what we're gonna do, Stiles," she admitted, hugging him a little bit tighter.

All she really wanted to do at that point was stay in his arms.

Who knew how many more chances she'd get before distance separated them.

Stiles' chest rose and fell with a gentle sigh at her words and, with one of his hands, he rubbed her back softly. "Well, I know," he mumbled and he tilted his head to where his cheek squished into her hair. His fingers brushed the ends of her hair and he threaded them through it.

"You'll be all the way across the country," she told him, squeezing him tighter. She could feel his lips kiss the top of her head—something else she'd miss—and it made her feel safe. Stiles had always had a way of doing that.

"We'll text all the time, like nonstop conversation, and update each other on what's going on in our lives. We'll have short phone calls when we're both free for a minute and we can FaceTime every night before bed," Stiles promised her, like he'd already planned everything out for this worst case scenario. She wanted to laugh at that because of course he would be the one who knew how to handle the least positive outcome, but she didn't. She just focused on the hum of his chest as he talked. "Maybe every other night if we both get busy, though. But we won't lose touch, okay? You mean too much to me."

A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips at his words and she nodded her head against him. "Yeah," she said and she looked up at him. "Yeah, okay. I just— I can't lose you. You're my best friend and I'm pretty sure I would literally fall apart without you," she confessed, hoping that he understood that the thought of not being within driving distance anymore was crushing.

His chest jerked as he huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, me, too, actually," he admitted and she could feel his arms tighten around her. Sometimes she felt like they were the only things holding her together. "We've got our whole summer for now, though," he reassured her and she sighed, trying to push the day he'd leave her from her mind and focus on the time she was spending with him now.

"Do you think your dad would care if I stayed over tonight?" Y/N asked softly, pulling away from him just enough to maintain eye contact, and Stiles shook his head.

"No, you know he loves you," he told her and she nodded softly. She usually ended up staying after every movie night whether his dad was home or not.

It was routine at that point.

She glanced over at his pillows and then she looked back at him. "Do you wanna hold me a little longer while we finish the movie or something, then?" It was almost like she didn't even have to ask, honestly, because halfway through the question Stiles was already repositioning.

He let go of her just so he could get situated and when she got comfortable next to him, he held his arm out to her. "You know I'll come visit you every time I can afford a plane ticket, right?" Stiles questioned as she snuggled into his side.

Y/N wiggled her way beneath his comforter as she pressed into him and she nodded. "I know," she whispered and she hoped to God that he would.

But people tended to get busy when they left for college.

Maybe things would be different for them.

—

The end of summer seemed like it had rushed itself that year and the day for Stiles to leave Beacon Hills came faster than either of them had hoped. Y/N's stomach had been in knots the entire morning as she tried to prepare herself to watch her best friend leave her behind. It was even worse when they'd gotten to the airport.

When Stiles has asked her to drive him to the airport, having already given the keys to the jeep to Scott, she'd agreed without hesitation. She'd figured it would make things easier, to be the last person to see him before he left, but it didn't.

It was still as hard as it'd been that entire summer.

Her heart was racing, now, as she walked with him to his gate, wondering how all of their time had passed them by so quickly. She didn't want him to go. She wasn't ready. Part of her wanted to ask him to turn around and walk back to the entrance with her, tell him that she forgot something in the car, and then make the trip across the airport all over again just to get a few more minutes with him, but she didn't. She just kept thinking about how their goodbye's were speeding towards them now and she felt sick to her stomach.

She could see his gate now and that only made everything worse.

"Hey," Stiles whispered and she realized she must've seemed uneasy because he took her hand in his softly and they came to a halt. "It's okay, Y/N/N," He reassured her with a gentleness she would miss in his smile, brushing his thumb over her hand softly. "We'll still talk all the time. I'll send you care packages. We won't drift, I promise you," he said.

Y/N appreciated his effort but it did nothing to ease the worries she'd built up all summer. She knew how this would go, so she let a sad smile make its way onto her face, deciding to embrace the situation for what it was. "Maybe not at first, Stiles, but you know it's gonna get harder and harder to keep in touch. We're gonna get busy," she pointed out and her voice was tired. Melancholic. "And you mean so much to me. I hate thinking about losing you, but it's just—"

"You won't lose me!" He exclaimed and he cut her off, tearing his hand out of hers and throwing it up in the air for emphasis.

She wanted to believe that, but: "Stiles, you're gonna be across the freaking country!" She told him. There was a reason that long distance relationships, romantic or platonic, didn't last forever. It didn't matter how much you loved someone, because if you got busy, distance could be the hardest thing to overcome.

"So what, Y/N?" Stiles asked and for the first time all summer, they were addressing the fact that things might not be different for them. The second that he left, they might just end up like everyone else and their best friend who left for college. And that sucked. "I'd cross it a thousand times to get to you, I'm in—" love with you.

"Stop," She almost yelled as soon as the words threatened to leave his mouth, cutting him off.

The look of hurt and confusion that clouded his face was almost overwhelming, but she knew. She knew what he was going to say because she'd known it for a while now.

She knew it from the way that he could read her in ways that nobody else seemed to notice, from the way that he would grab her hand or pull her into his side at every opportunity given to him, from the kisses he would pepper over her forehead during movie nights. He'd never explicitly said it, like he was just about to, but he'd never kept that affection to himself. Stiles had shown her how much he loved her for years.

Y/N loved him, too, of course. I mean, could she not when she spent every waking moment with him? They had always been so much more to each other than best friends, but she just couldn't say that right now.

Couldn't hear it, either.

Not when he was about to fly across the country.

"Miecz," she whispered and the golden brown of his eyes met her own. She could see how much he wanted to tell her in his face and her heart ached. "I know, okay? You know I am, too, but if you say it, it's gonna make this so much harder," she admitted, her voice quiet as it passed over the knot in her throat. "Please, don't say it."

Stiles sighed and he nodded his head sadly. "Fine. Just c'mere, then," he muttered. "As much as I'd like to stay here with you forever, I have to go," he told her and he held his arms out to her. She stepped into them with no second thoughts, wrapping her arms around his shoulders while his clasped around her torso. He squeezed her into his chest as tight as he could and he closed his eyes, trying to remember every little feeling about this hug. Every little detail of this moment.

She clung to his chest as he did that, burying her face in his neck. She promised herself to memorize the way that he smelled like freshly laundered clothes and cinnamon and to never forget how warm and safe that being in his arms made her feel. After that, Y/N didn't want to let him go and when the time came for him to pull away, she almost whimpered.

"Goodbye, Y/N," he said quietly, not that it made it sting any less, and every ounce of strength that she'd build up inside of her, just melted away.

Y/N's eyes began to tear up and she couldn't even see him clearly anymore. "Goodbye, Stiles." Her voice cracked, making her efforts to not cry known.

"Hey, none of that," he told her teasingly and they both laughed softly, but she couldn't help the tears that were slipping down her cheeks anyways. Stiles thumbs were flicking them away as fast as they fell and she didn't want to know if anyone would wipe her tears once he left. "Don't forget me," he joked.

She shot him a look. "You know I could never. Call me when you land, please," she said and she placed her hands over his, cupping them to her face for just a moment longer.

Stiles nodded, poking her nose with one of his thumbs gentle, and his hands slipped gently from her own. He grabbed the handle of his suitcase and turned towards his gate. Y/N watched him walk away from her, with all the belongings he could fit stuffed in his suitcase, and she frowned.

When Stiles had almost reached the gate, he stopped in his tracks and Y/N wondered if he'd her silent pleas for him to stay. Stiles let go of his suitcase and he looked over his shoulder at her. "Is everything okay?" She called out to him, worry starting to set in at that point. "Did you forget something?"

"Yeah," he told her, nodding his head quickly. He started back towards Y/N hurriedly, tugging one of his hands through his dark hair as he did, and just when he got close enough to stop, he didn't. Instead, Stiles slipped one of his hands around her waist, resting it on the small of her back, and he cupped her jaw with the other. Before she even had the chance to process what he was doing, he tilted her face up and smashed his lips against hers.

A quiet mmph sounded against his mouth and her eyes blew wide for a second, but once she got over the initial surprise, Y/N melted into him. Her eyes fluttered shut and she pressed the palms of her hands on the surface of his chest, puckering her lips against his. Maybe this would've been weird if they'd been anyone else, but after years of dancing around their feelings for each other, she felt nothing short of comfort and relief.

Kissing Stiles was like the first sip of water after a workout or the first second you sat down after a long day. It was refreshing.

And it sent tingles radiating through her body, all the way down to the tips of her toes.

After a few more seconds of being selfish, Stiles found it in himself to pull away softly, lips swollen and breath heavy. Y/N looked at him in disbelief as he did, watching that familiar, shit-eating grin tug at his lips, and she couldn't help but smile, too. "It definitely makes it harder knowing I won't get to do that again for a while, but fuck it, Y/N, I am so in love with you," he confessed and she sputtered out a small laugh, her eyes starting tear up again.

She blinked them away, though.

"God, I can't believe you just did that, Stilinski," she whispered and she smoothed our the wrinkles on the front of his shirt. "You're such a sap for this stuff."

Stiles shrugged his shoulders softly. "I mean," he paused, "I'm a sap who loves you," he cooed teasingly, looking down at her with a crooked smile.

Y/N shook her head at him. "Good Lord," she laughed and he tilted his head at her.

"You know, you don't say it back soon, I don't think you're ever gonna get rid of me," he continued to joke, swaying their hips together slowly from side to side.

"Well, maybe, I don't want to get rid of you," she said.

"Just say it back," he muttered softly, his voice having lost all of its playful undertones, and he pressed a sweet kiss between her eyebrows. "I have to go, but I want to hear you say it in person. Just once."

"Oh. Yeah." She'd almost forgotten why they were even at the airport in the first place. "I love you," she admitted, goosebumps prickling her arms as she did. "I am head over heels in love with you, Stiles Stilinski," she promised him and she rubbed one of his shoulders gently. "Now, go, Stiles. You're gonna miss your flight if you don't," she said through a gentle smile.

Obviously, she still wasn't completely okay with Stiles leaving, but this time, when he turned away and rushed towards the gate again, things seemed a little more doable. Especially when he looked over his shoulder and shouted one last I love you.

She smiled, shaking her head at that, and she watched him go.

—

Two months came and went just as quick since the day that Y/N had dropped Stiles off at the airport. In the beginning, they'd done everything that Stiles promised they would. They texted nonstop and FaceTimed every night and it had been great. It had been normal, you know, aside from the fact that instead of being an eight minute drive away, he was more than two thousand miles away.

But things had been different lately.

Two weeks ago, the texts had been more scattered and the FaceTime calls had stopped altogether, but this week, there had been nothing.

Y/N wasn't sure, exactly, how Stiles was going about his days in New York, but she was swamped. She would go to class in the mornings, work at night, and she would fit the gym or a run in somewhere in between. She felt like that was all she did anymore and she would bet something hefty that Stiles was having the same problem.

As she sat her desk one rainy night, though, flipping through her overly highlighted notes and studying for her upcoming biology midterm, she couldn't help but think about him. She remembered when they used to study together, papers and empty, snack-sized Cheezit bags scattered across the room, and she wished he was here with her right now. Stiles had always made studying tolerable with his stupid jokes and this tendency to get distracted easily. She missed him so much.

She found herself frowning at the thought of her best friend and she picked up her phone to shoot him a text.

One cliché thinking of you text couldn't hurt, right?

Her fingers tapped away on the screen and she pressed send without a second thought. She stared at her phone for a minute or two longer, half-expecting an immediate response, but when she realized she wasn't getting one, she set her phone facedown beside her. Stiles responding to her wasn't her main concern right now, studying for her midterm was. She reminded herself of that silently and she stared back down at her notebook.

She'd been so caught up in worrying about Stiles that she couldn't even remember where she'd left off, let alone what else she needed to brush up on.

Before she could figure it out, her phone chimed and she'd never grabbed it so fast. Y/N read the notification on her screen and she rolled her eyes. "I don't care about your stupid sale, Urban Outfitters," she growled.

Normally, a notification from a clothing store wouldn't elicit such a response from her, but the lack of contact from her best friend was so frustrating. Before college, Stiles and Y/N going thirty minutes without talking to each other was absolutely unheard of, but, now, they'd gone a week without speaking and twice as long without having a proper conversation. Now, she wasn't even getting a text back.

The thought made Y/N sigh, blowing a piece of her hair out of her face, and she realized it was probably untrue. Stiles would always text her back eventually, but he was busy now. For all she knew, he could be drowning in three times as much work as she was or hanging out with his new best friend or something, assuming he'd made one.

But she would hear from him eventually.

She knew that.

It was just annoying, because she missed him. She missed his dorky little smile, his giggle, and the way his face would light up when he saw her even if he'd seen her every day that week. She missed the color of his eyes, the softness of the flannels he wore, and how he would go out of his way to make sure she was happy or comfortable. She just missed him.

Life without her best friend in the same town seemed indescribably harder and it only got worse when they didn't talk as much.

Y/N decided that it was in her best interest to shut off the display on her phone and toss it onto her bed. She'd never get any studying done if all she did was check her phone. If he texted, she would hear it. That's what she told herself when she settled back in her chair and looked down at her notes again. It was easier to focus on what she was doing and push all thoughts of Stiles out of her head when her phone was no longer in reaching distance.

She'd found herself flipping through the text for not even a half an hour before there was a knock at the door and she rolled her eyes. "Of course," she muttered to herself, because if it wasn't one thing distracting her from studying, it was always another.

With a sigh, she stood up out of her desk chair and made her way over to her mirror. She wasn't sure who would be at the door at this time of night, but she wanted to make sure she was presentable when she shooed them away, at least. She tucked a few wild strands of hair that had been sticking out of her bun back under the elastic and she smoothed down her flyaways with her hands. It wouldn't last long, but it was the best she could do with such short notice.

Giving her breath a quick smell and deciding it was alright, she stepped away from her reflection and made her way towards the door. She wasn't sure whether if she would be opening the door up to a person or if it'd be something like the movies where someone dropped a baby on her doorstep, but she definitely wasn't expecting what she got. Y/N opened her front door with a lazy sigh, kicking her foot in front of it almost in annoyance, and when she looked up to greet the person standing there, her jaw dropped.

Y/N shut her door before she had a chance to process anything. There was no way he was here, he was supposed to be all the way in New York. Across the country. She concluded that because it was late and she'd spent hours studying, her mind was just playing tricks on her. She'd been thinking about Stiles all night and the text she sent was probably some stupid trigger to this weird ass hallucination, but he wasn't here.

Right?

Just as she was about to work herself into a full-on freak-out, there was another knock at the door and it sounded softer, more hesitant that time. It seemed to snap her out of her thoughts and she regained her composure long enough to open the door again. All of her thoughts that sided with her denial were cast aside when she saw him, in the same exact position as he'd been ten seconds before.

In all of his honey-eyed and speckled-skinned glory, Stiles was standing on her doorstep with the softest of smiles on his face. His brown hair, which seemed longer than she remembered it, was matted to his forehead and water was dripping off of his soaking wet clothes. A black duffel bag was draped over one of his shoulders, and with his opposite hand, he held out a bouquet of wet, white daisies. The flowers were droopy and sad as a result of the downpour, but the thought was so sweet that her stomach churned at the sight.

She looked down at the flowers and, then, back up at him, and somewhere in between, she felt tears pricking in the spaces behind her eyes. "Hey," Stiles hummed awkwardly and he extended his hand a little further, tilting the flowers toward her, and she fought a small laugh as she reached for them. She would've gotten a vase for them, but they were absolutely pitiful, now. Her eyebrows furrowed almost amusedly as she took the bouquet from his hands and lifted one of the soggy petals. "Those— That—" He started to speak, but his voice cracked. He settled for clearing his throat and he laughing awkwardly first. "They weren't like that when I bought 'em, I promise," he said, gesturing to the flowers in her hands.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh as she tilted them sideways, tucking them gently into the crook of her elbow. "I'm sure they were beautiful before the rain, so thank you," she said, sparing them another look, and she grinned up at him. Limp floral arrangements aside, she figured it was probably a good time to address the elephant in the room. Or on her porch, in that case. "What are you doing here, Stiles?" She questioned softly, her smile twitching slightly.

"I missed you," he confessed without missing a beat. Y/N's smile fell into something sadder and she felt her heart stutter. "A lot." The half-nervous, half-excited look that had been plastered to Stiles' face the entire time she'd been looking at him faltered and his eyebrows knitted together. "Is this— Are— Are you not happy to see me or something?" He questioned through a half-smile, but she could see the way it'd stopped reaching his eyes.

"No. Oh, my God, no." She was so quick to hold her hand out, to brush it over his forearm briefly and shake her head at him. "Of course, I'm happy to see you, it's just..." Y/N trailed off, pressing her hand against her forehead softly and sighing. "You can't do this, Stiles," she confessed to him, her voice rising a little.

Confusion and anger washed over his face. "Can't do what, Y/N/N? See my best friend anymore?" Stiles snapped, his questions carrying a bit of a bite to them.

She let out a huff of air in disbelief. He knew exactly what she was talking about. How could he not when their feelings were the main thing that made the distance so hard, anyways? "You can't just show up on my doorstep out of the blue like this. You can't just plan this whole grand gesture and expect everything to turn out like the movies," she retorted, her voice softer that time. She had no idea how long it had taken Stiles to get there, but she knew if it was the other way around, it would've sucked ass if the first thing he did was yell at her. "Nothing's changed. Just because you're here now doesn't mean you don't still live thousands of miles away," she continued.

Stiles nodded and he slotted his thumb beneath his duffel bag, slipping it off of his shoulder and letting it fall beside his feet. "Look, I get it, okay? I know that this is about what happened at the airport and I know you think we'd be better off forgetting we ever said anything, but I don't. Y/N, I can't," he confessed, his eyes pleading with her. That was exactly what she'd been trying to avoid, because long distance felt impossible, and every time she thought about it, she got teary-eyed, and this was no exception. She could feel the pinpricks in her throat. "I love you. I am so in love with you that it hurts to not see you everyday. I think about you all the time, I miss you all the time. Plus, we haven't talked in weeks and nothing has ever sucked more, and I just wanted to see you. I wanted to see my best friend," he finished and Y/N was brushing a tear off of her cheek.

Part of him wanted to reach out and do it for her, but he wasn't sure how she'd react, so he kept still. She met his eyes and she couldn't help but flash him a sad smile. "I love you, too, Stiles, just," she paused, before she leaned over and snatched up his duffel bag in her free hand, "get inside, already. You didn't come all this way to catch a cold," she ordered in a motherly manner and he grinned to himself the second she retreated into the house.

It was like all had been forgiven and forgotten for the time being as he stepped into her home and closed the door softly behind him. Y/N placed his bag on the floor next to him and the bouquet of drowned flowers on the table, and she hurried off to go grab him a towel.

—

When Y/N had come back with the towel, she'd wrapped it around him tightly and pressed an affectionate kiss on his cheek, before rushing him off to the bathroom to take a warm shower and put on some dry clothes. He'd come out a half hour later in a gray t-shirt and blue pajama pants.

The two of them had been in her room ever since, laying on opposite sides of her mattress with her bedside lamp on, and Stiles wet clothes were tumbling in the dryer. "You know, I was actually studying before you showed up and I couldn't get you out of my head," Y/N confessed, rolling over onto her side to look at him. She tucked one of her arms beneath her head.

She could see the way Stiles' eyebrows quirked up from his side profile and he looked over at her with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Seriously?" He asked, folding his hands over his chest, and she nodded. "The same thing happens to me every time I get a second alone and I decided enough was enough. That's why I'm here," he hummed, tapping his thumbs on the fabric of his shirt, and she smiled softly at him. "On a scale of one to ten, how surprised were you?" He asked with a smirk.

Y/N laughed at that. "I think like an eight at first, but now that everything's settled in, I'm not even fazed. I'm glad you're here, though, even if I came off a little hostile at first," she confessed.

Stiles rolled over, tired of looking at her from the side, and he reflected her position. "Really?" He questioned.

She nodded. "Really, I missed you so much," she affirmed, her heart fluttering as she said it, and she didn't miss the way that his grin brightened. "I think if you hadn't shown up today, I probably would've flown to see you by the end of the week," she continued.

Instead of following along with that scenario, as much as he wanted to, Stiles pushed himself up onto his elbow and he shot her a look to challenge that. "There's no way in Hell you'd be that spontaneous and we both know it," he said, calling her out, and she sputtered out a laugh in response.

"Hey." Her mouth opened up and her eyebrows furrowed in mock offense at his words. "I can be spontaneous, Stilinski," she defended and the atmosphere seemed to shift.

There was a flicker of something in Stiles' eyes and he lifted his brows. "Oh, yeah?" He asked quietly and his tone seemed a little darker than it had before, almost daring, and her eyebrows quirked up to mimic his own. "Prove it, Y/L/N," he hummed and she could feel a blush settle in on her cheeks.

With a sudden surge of confidence, she shrugged her shoulders. "Fine," she hummed, a sly lilt playing in her voice. "Come to think of it, I don't think I ever gave you a proper welcome," she said, and Stiles hmmed quietly, touching his fingers to his chin as he pretended to rack his brain.

Finally, he shook his head with mock clueless. "Yeah, I don't think you did."

Before he could open his mouth and say something stupid again, Y/N found herself reaching across the bed. She pushed his shoulder to the side, moving him so he was flat on his back, and in the blink of an eye, she swung her leg over his waist. When she was straddling him, she smirked down at him. Stiles' eyes had blown wide with surprise, but his grin was so eager. She leaned down closer to him, her lips ghosting over his cheekbone as she went to whisper in his ear. "Guess I should change that."

"Please, do," Stiles encouraged, his hands coming to caress her hips, and she laughed, breaking character.

Y/N pressed a soft, sweet peck against his lips, pulling back to grin at him, before she leaned in to do it all over again. She kissed him again slowly, moving her lips sensually against his, and she ran her hands up and down his chest lightly. She took it upon herself to tilt her head to the side, deepening the kiss, and a low moan elicited from the back of Stiles' throat.

One of his hands travelled to the small of her back in the new heat of the kiss and the other slid up between her shoulder blades, to keep her steady. Stiles moved to flip their bodies carefully, guiding her down onto the bed so he could hover over her in turn, slotting his legs between hers. He held himself up with one of his forearms, his other hand tracing the curve of her torso, and he continued to kiss her passionately, like the lack of contact between them the past few weeks was getting to him (and frankly, it was).

When neither of them could breathe anymore and they were panting against each other's lips, Y/N's mouth disconnected from his and she grinned up at him. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were swollen, and it made her stomach flutter to know it was all her doing. She brought a hand up to cup one of his cheeks, brushing her thumb in semicircles over his face. "I've got something I need to tell you," she said and he hummed curiously in response. "I've been applying into colleges in Virginia recently, but I didn't wanna tell you about it unless I got accepted into one," she confessed.

Stiles let his side lower down into the bed, so he didn't have to keep holding himself up, but his legs were still crossed with her own. "So, why are you telling me, then?" He asked quietly, playing with the hem of her t-shirt absentmindedly, and she waited for it to click. After a few seconds, his hand halted on her hip and his head shot up. "Wait, are you serious?" He blurted.

Y/N couldn't keep from smiling at his reaction, and she nodded. "Yeah, NVCC," she told him. "I know community college isn't ambitious, but I can't afford the out-of-state tuition for a four-year. Plus, I worked things out with NV and they said if I worked on campus, I'd get state resident tuition. How can I pass that up if it means I get to be closer to you, too?" She explained.

Looking at Stiles, she wasn't sure if the news had settled in yet, because the shock in his face was only growing. "Y/N, I swear to God. If you're kidding, I'll literally get my stuff and leave right now, because I—"

"I'm not kidding, Stiles," she stopped him mid-sentence. "I was actually thinking we could get an apartment together in between our campuses. They're only like twenty minutes apart, so it'd perfect."

He shook his head at her in disbelief. "Dude, you don't even have to ask," he replied. "If it means I can have you with me all the time, then fuck yes. When are you transferring?"

"Next semester," she told him and he couldn't help but kiss her again. His hand slid over her jawline and into her hair as he captured her lips in his own.

"God, have I told you that I love you?" He questioned when he pulled away, and Y/N laughed.

She pretended to think about it, taking a page from his book, and she shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe you should tell me again just for good measure."

And he did.

↴

taglist / @umpoedameron @pvintbreak

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles imagines #stiles x reader #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagines #dylan o'brien x reader #teen wolf mtv #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader

363 notes · View notes

ariainstars · 3 years

Text

Will Din Djarin and Grogu Have to Part?

Since this question has been discussed quite controversially in the fandom since the second season of The Mandalorian, here are my two cents about it.

Luke and Anakin

A subject my husband and I can’t agree upon 😉 is the character of Luke Skywalker. I always liked him, while my husband finds him annoying. But consider: Luke’s hotheadedness, his naivety, his obstinacy, are perfectly normal for a young man of nineteen or twenty. Given A New Hope’s roots in classic Western, Luke is the typical greenhorn, who tries to man it up but doesn’t know how to do it yet. Luke is a normal adolescent with dreams and ambitions. Remember how we see him playing with a toy skyhopper at his uncle’s homestead? He obviously feels safe there. His aunt and uncle later even sacrifice their lives rather than revealing to the Imperial stormtroopers where R2D2 is, because they know that Luke went in search of the droid, and they don’t want them to find him. Luke is a good boy though raw and green. In the end, his story is a success because he chooses to use his powers to save the ones he cares about, even when it’s a father who, except for saving his life at the last moment, never did anything good for him.

Now compare him to Anakin Skywalker, his father, at the same age: many fans define young Anakin as a whiny, arrogant brat and they’re not so wrong with that. Anakin comes over as an irritating person, much more so than his son, because he is emotionally stunted, having spent the last ten years being told to stifle his emotions and not to allow any personal attachment. Which blatantly failed: we see right away that his bond with Padmé is still intact although they didn’t meet in the meantime, and we witness him getting mad with fury and hatred when his mother has to die in that cruel, meaningless way when he could have saved her had he arrived just a little sooner. Young Anakin is unbalanced and frustrated because by now he knows his enormous powers but is not allowed to use them in a way that actually makes sense to him. Anakin is a family man: his instinct is to protect. But at age nineteen, thanks to the uncompassionate mindset of the oh-so wise Jedi, he already is a ticking bomb.

Now to Our New Heroes…

While the first season was about Mando’s redemption and hero’s journey, the second one thematizes the development of the child. Until now he hardly wielded the Force and most of the time he’s just being cute and getting into trouble, but that’s not simply bothersome, nor is it unfitting for the narrative: it’s normal. Grogu is being a child at last, because he can, and he can because someone is looking after him and genuinely caring for him.

Look at him: the little cookie monster is having a blast. He’s meeting people and making friends. He’s enjoying life (including food). He can let go, because he knows that “daddy” has his back. Literally!

Which is why I don’t believe that Grogu will choose to join some Jedi or other: it would be pointless for his story. Grogu has the chance to be the child he could not be until now, and since he thankfully ages slowly, he’s taking that chance. Like with his predecessor Yoda, there is more to Grogu than meets the eye: he understands more than he lets on. He’s making experiences, and he’s learning from these experiences. Instinctively, he wants Mando because he wants belonging. My take is that he will learn how to have healthy attachments, and that if he is to be the future Yoda in some distant new tv show or new trilogy, he will be very different from this one in that he won’t discourage Force-sensitive children from learning how to love other people in a proper way. Also, Yoda lived mostly at the Jedi temple, which from the outside reminded of an ivory tower and indeed did shield the Jedi from seeing many of the ugly things happening outside. Grogu is travelling: he witnesses the injustices in the galaxy with his own eyes.

One of the crucial messages of the Star Wars saga always was how wrong it is to separate families. Palpatine’s greatest villainy was making people who belonged together mistrust one another until they resorted to violence. What’s worse, he enjoyed it.

To remain in balance, children need to grow up serene and protected. Anakin, the Dark Father, was the most blatant example for this: his mere existence was a living proof for the Jedi’s failure. Terrified of his former padawan’s turn to the Dark Side, Obi-Wan set the seal on his fate right when Padmé was succeeding into making him go away with her. The Jedi was aware that Anakin was a husband and future father at this point, but the convictions of the Jedi had been so deeply ingrained into his mind since he was small that he believed them to be more important than Anakin’s role not as a Jedi, but as a human being. Still twenty years later, he tried to trick Anakin’s own son into killing him. Anakin’s soul was saved, though only by a hair’s breadth, due to his son’s stubborn compassion. Anakin had been willing to sacrifice everything to save his wife; Luke chose to rather give up his life than his integrity, which is why the moment when he throws his light sabre away before Palpatine is so significant, setting him apart from Anakin.

None of the surviving Jedi would have lifted a finger for Anakin: to them, he was a damned man. Which he was, but that was largely also due to the Jedi’s sins and not only his own. They never showed regret or assumed that they might have wronged him. The aim of both the prequel and sequel trilogy was not to excuse Darth Vader’s / Anakin Skywalker’s or Kylo Ren’s / Ben Solo’s terrible deeds, but to demonstrate that their fate could have been avoided; that they were not alone with their guilt but had been for a large part pushed into their role by their environment, instead of being, as the cliché runs, “mad guys who choose to be evil because they want power”, like e.g. in a James Bond movie. (Except of course for Palpatine, but even he got a second chance through Rey, equally powerful but much more well-meaning than him.)

Conclusions

The message of Star Wars is not about the all-powerful Jedi and the significance of their order: they are not some kind of superheroes who will return and save the galaxy. I daresay that who hopes to see Luke Skywalker, e.g. instructing Grogu, will be bitterly disappointed. If Luke would enter the narrative, the story would become about him, making the show’s set-up and title pointless. His story, the Hero’s Journey, was accomplished with Return of the Jedi, which is why George Lucas never wrote a continuation. Luke himself developed his capacities instinctively, both Obi-Wan and Yoda had little time to train him. (So much also for Rey being “a Mary Sue who knows how to wield her power without training”.) It obviously does not take years and years of learning at a Jedi temple to learn to wield one’s Force powers: it appears that what padawans are taught there, more than anything else, is how to control their feelings. Which is unrealistic on the long run, because every living being wishes for personal fulfilment and even the greatest Jedi can’t live solely for others.

Will the child’s Force abilities fade in time without training, the way Ahsoka said? They won’t. The show is set some 25 years after the fall of the Jedi Temple, and yet Grogu managed to make a mudhorn float in the air with his power. He was exhausted afterwards, but he managed. In another episode he healed Greef Karga from a mortal wound and he is the first Force-sensitive whom we ever saw with this capacity. In the next episode he rejected a fireball with his bare hands. The Force is strong with this one. He does not need a Jedi master to train him. What he needs is to develop a good judgement about what he should use his powers for, and when he should not.

The saga as a whole always showed a clear structure where the puzzle pieces fit together, adding up to one final picture: life is not about power but about love and belonging. Power can win, but that victory is always short-lived. Who chooses power over compassion in the end will always lose and have to look back on a destroyed world where there are only losses and bitter memories.

Ever from the first episode, The Mandalorian lived from the dynamics between the gruff but kind bounty-hunter and the innocent yet powerful child. At its core, it is a father-son relationship: tear them apart and the whole story ceases to make sense. By the beginning of season 2 Din Djarin and Grogu have grown so close that you could hardly fit a sheet of paper between them. Their story is not about rebuilding the Jedi order, it is about healing together, overcoming loneliness and trauma, starting a new life together.

Maybe they will be separated at the end of the second season, e.g. by Moff Gideon who wants the child for his despicable experiments: but if that happens, I can foretell what the next season will be about:

Mando will move heaven and hell to get “his” child back under his protection. Because contrarily to both Luke and Anakin, he is a father, and a good and devoted one at that.

149 notes · View notes

on-literal-mars · 3 years

Text

The Narcissism of Wilbur Soot: Ghostburs real unfinished business.

Wilbur Soot effectively manipulated a bunch of children into fighting a war for him. This was the first ‘official’ arc of the Dream SMP and even though it’s been months and months since it happened, so many things still tie back to it. L’manberg: a country more power struggle than nation, Tommy’s discs and their importance, and Wilbur Soots selfishness. This post will be broken down into four parts for four symptoms of narcissistic personality disorder that fit Wilbur the best. There will also be a final section dedicated to Ghostbur and his unfinished business on the SMP.

Having an exaggerated sense of self importance:

Wilbur is a showman. He is useless unless he has an audience. It’s introduced from day one as he cultivates an army over the shared dream of freedom, again when he holds an election and reads out the results, and finally when he doesn’t blow up L’manberg until Phil comes. How many times does Wilbur go into the button room by himself? I think on stream maybe 3-4 times. That’s 3-4 times that he doesn’t do what he says he’s gonna do and it’s because someone like Wilbur needs an audience.

He can’t do anything by himself, he hates himself too much, the only time he achieves anything is when he manipulates others to get it done for him. Think about it. How many times has Wilbur sung out for his nation and called it “My L’manberg” like he built it himself? Like he actually fought in the battles instead of standing off to the side and urging his child army to ‘keep fighting’. He’s encredibly entitled. Which brings us to our next point:

Having a sense of entitlement:

Wilbur believes that everything is owed to him. Dream is a tyrant for telling him not to sell drugs on SMP land. People should be allowed to do what they want.

Wilbur should be allowed to do what he wants.

And he wraps this idea up with a bow and calls it ‘freedom’. He elects himself president without any hesitation and is surprised and insulted when Quakity runs against him. I’ve already touched on how he obsesses over L’manberg and destroying it. A narcissist looks at life with complete tunnel vision. The only thing they care about is what will benefit them and what will make them feel better. So the logic behind Wilbur wanting to destroy L’manberg was never ‘they took it from me, I want to destroy it so they can’t have it’(because even that requires some level of empathy) but more ‘It’s mine. If it isn’t mine, then it can’t be any bodies’.

it was always his L’manberg. His unfinished Symphony. It was his way of taking back control. Here’s one thing you have to know about Narcissists, they are rampant control freaks. And if they can’t control you or you are no longer benefiting them, they will destroy you.

Being preoccupied with fantasies about brilliance, beauty, or the perfect mate:

We’ve never seen Wilbur(Ghostbur is a different story) interact romantically but we have seen how he treats the ones he’s supposed to love. Fundy is a perfect example. I could go on and on about how Wilbur gave Tommy more attention because Tommy was always willing to stay under Wilbur while Fundy always tried to go against him but that’s a post we’ve all seen a hundred times(in all fairness, very good posts). I present you another outlook: Wilbur neglects Fundy because he sees too much of himself in him. Like, oh I don’t know, Fundys want for control and authority. He wants attention because he’s just as much of a showman as his dad.

And Wilbur can never share the stage. He is incapable of it, his thinking is too black and white. Regardless, his relationship with both Fundy and Tommy(towards the end) showcase how manipulative and abusive narcissists often are. Now notice how pretty Wilbur tries to make Pogtopia? I know towards the end he was fine to let all those buttons litter the place but think before that. You could argue that Wilbur worked so hard on it because he wanted a cosy place to stay for him and Tommy but it simply isn’t true.

We know this because when Technoblade tries to put railings around the stairs Wilbur breaks them down. He wasn’t intentionally being malicious, you’ve got to understand that narcissists just never think about anyone but themselves. He simply didn’t care if Tommy or Techno( or tubbo who eventually did)fell off the stairs and hurt themselves. It didn’t matter. The railing just didn’t go with his aesthetic. Wilbur made Pogtopia so nice so that he could feel in control.

He did it to convince himself that it was some nice vacation home instead of a stone prison being used as a fugitive hide out. He was absolutely delusional.

Inability to take responsibility:

Right away I bet you can see how this lines up with Ghostbur, huh? It ties back to black and white thinking, as well. His famous phrase ‘indepenance or death’, calling everyone in Manberg traitors because they hadn’t immediately dropped everything to join Pogtopia, and how he kept making destroying L’manberg the final option. He knew from the beginning that he was going to destroy it. The second he built the button room the countrys fate was sealed. Wilbur is never wrong.

He knows what’s best for his country. But here’s the thing: Wilbur has always done things indirectly or through someone else. He does this to avoid direct criticism. Criticism cripples narcissists, it is their worst fear. But blowing up L’manberg would leave no room for anything else. It would be Wilburs fault and no one else’s.

That’s why he has Phil kill him. It wasn’t out of regret or shame, it was one last act of selfishness. He left them with crater for a country and didn’t even say goodbye. And even in his final moments it was “they all want you to, look at them, they want me dead”. He was a coward and died like one. He died to try and escape criticism and responsibility. But death has a funny way of catching you off guard.

Some final symptoms of narcissistic personality disorder before we move into the Ghostbur section:

React with rage or contempt and try to belittle the other person to make themselves appear superior

Have difficulty regulating emotions and behavior

Experience major problems dealing with stress and adapting to change

Have secret feelings of insecurity, shame, vulnerability and humiliation

(This isn’t an official definition but Dr. Ramani Durvasula says that Narcissists are characterized by lack of empathy and deep insecurity. Keep that in mind.)

Ghostbur:

Ghostbur to me is very child like. Ghostbur pulls some pranks but is never intentionally malicious, just works his hardest to make everyone happy. He is innocent and playful and doesn’t like to talk about serious things. We could see him as Wilbur back when he was a little kid. Before the effects of abuse start to kick in. Everyone says that Phil is canonically neglectful, I’m not sure where this comes from but I believe it.

As childlike as he is, it isn’t like he’s the ghost version of kid Wilbur. Wilbur was an adult when he died. He’s so childlike because that’s what Wilbur was on the inside; a child who never matured properly. L’manchild takes a whole different meaning now lmao. Ghostbur is Wilbur without the walls he puts in place to protect himself. That’s why he’s cold all the time: he’s finally being exposed to all the things he tried to hide from.

Wilbur acts like a child throughout majority of his time on the SMP. He gets angry when he doesn’t get his way, expects everyone to kiss his ass and take care of him, and throws tantrums when all he should’ve done was compromise(the way people blame George or Quakity for Schlatt getting elected but Wilbur could’ve just taken down the American-ban). And doesn’t that sound just like the points I made earlier? Ghostbur isn’t the sad alter ego of Wilbur that some try to paint him out to be, he’s literally just Wilbur without the bullshit. He wasn’t the father of a nation he was an abused kid who never grew up. He ran from his problems to the very last second but now he doesn’t have a choice.

That is Ghostburs unfinished business. He must finally allow himself to be wrong. Only then will he be able to move on. And shit, with the way he keeps forgetting the bad stuff he’s done, perhaps he isn’t meant to. Perhaps this is supposed to be his hell and he’ll be trapped in constant pain for all of eternity. It would make sense wouldn’t it?

Death was like: hah, you want to act like you did nothing wrong? Fine, I’ll help you out.

That’s the problem with black and white thinking. Too much of anything will eventually become bad for you. Ghostbur is gonna realize that he can’t float around L’manberg for the rest of time and actually accept the fact that maybe everything is his fault. Atleast Wilbur actually got his wish, I suppose. Dead men can’t take responsibility. Dead men can only exist in hell forever or let go and move on.

#dream smp #fundy mcyt #wilbur soot #wilbur corruption arc #jschlatt #lmanberg #pogtopia #ghostbur #someone should pay me for this

80 notes · View notes

siriusly-addicted-to-writing · 4 years

Text

BOO!

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Summary: [Y/N], George and Fred want to plan the perfect Halloween prank, but during all the planing, the twins decide to prank [Y/N].

Warning(s): “dead” George, unedited, angst, not my best work (read my other George fic for some quality writing haha)

masterlist

——————

A/N: This is for October 26 - ‘Spooky Pranks’ for ‘A Very Harry Potter Halloween’ writing challenge by @eleven-times-lively and @masterofthedarkness (please note that this isn’t my best work. I don’t feel that great about releasing this because I know I can do better. While writing this, it didn’t have my full attention. I was, and still currently am stressing about school and my... guy situation. I do apologize, and please forgive me). Also, I haven’t had any time to write and I’ve been very uninspired. It’s very sad, but I’ll try and get my inspiration and time back! Anyway, I do hope you enjoy, even if this isn’t my best work!

——————

Spooky season was among the students of Hogwarts. It didn’t help that Fred and George were wanting to cause some mischief on this already prank worth holiday.

Last year, the stunt they pulled was unlike any other. Pumpkins smashed everywhere, house elves dressed up as little ghosts, and even Dumbledore was in on it! It was quite a show, and people couldn’t wait to see what they came up with this year.

[Y/N], for one, was super excited because she’d be in on it this year. ‘One of the perks of dating a Weasley twin,’ she would joke. George was just as excited that [Y/N] would be joining the fun this year.

[Y/N] and George’s relationship started fast. They actually started talking after the great prank of Halloween. George met her for the first time as she was dodging a floating pumpkin.

She was a sharp girl with a not so sharp aim. She nearly took George’s head off by mistake. She was aiming for a jack-o-lantern but narrowly missed George’s head. [Y/N] was so embarrassed, she apologized over and over again.

George thought she was adorable and couldn’t get her smile off his mind. So days later he had to go and see her again. And again, and again.

Their relationship started fast and it was the best thing that happened to both of them.

For [Y/N], it helped her loosen up a bit. She was always studying and never let loose. They often said that Hermione and her were the same person, attitude wise. George changed all of that.

Now she can be just as crazy as George and Fred, but still buckle down and get her school work done.

Now, since meeting [Y/N], George and Fred’s grades have sky rocketed. Even though Mrs. Weasley hasn’t met [Y/N] yet, she already loves her.

So this years prank was doing to be incredible. [Y/N] was going to see to it.

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

“Fred! Have you seen George anywhere?” [Y/N] asks. Fred shakes his head to the side without looking up.

“Really? I’ve been looking for him everywhere!” Fred just shrugs his shoulders.

“Oh, well, do you know where Harry is?” Fred gestured with his head that Harry was up in his dormitory.

“Well, thank you, Fred. You’ve been very helpful.” Fred nods his head and continues tinkering with whatever new object he’s making. [Y/N] rolls her eyes at the twin before making her way upstairs.

[Y/N] was looking for George to finalize plans for next week. The big halloween prank was upon them, and she had a brilliant idea. One that would blow the socks off everyone.

Fred looks up and watches [Y/N] make her way up the stairs to Harry’s dormitory.

“Phase one, complete,” he mumbles to himself. His eyes follow her until she reaches the door.

She was in for a treat.

——————

“Harry?” [Y/N] says as she knocks on the door. After standing there for a few seconds, she knocks again. When no one answers, she sighs and opens the door.

Maybe they couldn’t hear her.

When she opens the door, the room is pitch black.

“Harry?” [Y/N] says, taking a step forward. Suddenly, the door behind her slams shut. She jumps in the air and spins back around.

“Haha, very funny guys.” She rolls her eyes and walks over to the door. She places her hand on the doorknob but jumps back. The knob shocked her.

Shocked her.

“What the...” she mumbles as she reaches forward again. She can feel the electrical pulse radiating off the doorknob. But she reaches at it again and turns it. Nothing happens but her hand starts burning.

[Y/N] rips her hand off the doorknob.

“What the actual heck?” She glares at the doorknob and measures her options.

Option one: she could knock on the door and scream for help.

Option two: she could try and magic her way out.

Option three: she can look around for anything to help her get out.

Option four: she can accept her fate and wither away in the darkness.

Well, [Y/N] was not about to do option four, so option two will have to do.

“What spell would allow me to get out without breaking anything?” she asks herself. From her knowledge, these doors will not break if she tries to bust them down. They can’t break.

“Alohomora,” she whispers. Unfortunately, nothing seems to happen. Of course, she tries out a number of over spells, but nothing was working. “Why me?”

Option two didn’t work, so on to option three.

The room is dark and the only source of light was the light coming from the window.

“The window! Of course!” she says as she runs over to the window. The window was sealed shut and looked like it hadn’t been opened in ages. It probably hadn’t been opened in ages.

[Y/N] tries to open the window but it won’t budge.

BOOM!

[Y/N] spins around. “What was that?” She stares in the dark room, slowly backing up. When she hits the window she gasps and jumps back.

“I’m being silly. I know this is only a prank. The twins are messing with me,” she laughs. There was no way that this was real. This was all a set up!

Yeah!

A set up.

All she had to do now was figure out how to get out the window and summon her broom and she was-

BOOM!

[Y/N] spun around again. Was that just a figment of her imagination or did that chest just move?

BOOM!

Nope, not a figment of her imagination. That chest jumped.

It. Moved.

“Nope, not today.” [Y/N] says, moving back towards the door. Yes, the exact door that will not open.

BOOM!

The chest jumped completely in the air, and broke open. [Y/N] screams and closes her eyes.

“[Y/N],” a faint voice whispers.

“George?” [Y/N] asks, peeling her eyes open. She looks at the place the voice came and let out another scream.

George, her George, looks about dead on the floor.

“George!” she screams, rushing over to him. She falls to the floor beside him and grabs his hand.

“[Y/N], I have to tell you something.” His voice barely comes out.

“Yes? What is it George?” she asks, grabbing his hand. Tears are violently rolling down her face. She can’t think straight. Her George is dying.

Dying.

“I don’t love you. I never have,” he says, and takes some ragged breaths.

“No... no,” she stands up and backs up. She pulls out her wand and points it at George.

“Riddikulus,” she whispers. The George that was in front of her disappears. Once he said he didn’t love her, she knew he was faking. She knew that George loved her. She knew. She got the boggart into another chest and locked it in there.

Option one was the only one she hasn’t tried, that she was willing to try. So, she went and banged on the door.

It took about five minutes until Hermione opened the door.

“[Y/N]? What are you doing in here?” she asks.

“I was locked in, so I wouldn’t recommend going in there.” [Y/N] says, pushing past her to find the twins.

Those twins that almost scared her to death.

“BOO!” they shout when she rounds the corner. The both had sheets over their heads and were dressed as ghosts.

“You two are unbelievable. How could you do that to me?” she nearly shouts.

“What do you mean? Locking you in the dormitory? We were only preparing,” one of the ghosts say.

“Yeah, and you thought leaving a boggart in there was a swell idea?” Tears threaten to fall down her face. George rips off his sheet and embraces her in a tight hug.

“The boggart got out? We were going to use it for the Halloween prank! I never meant for it to get out,” he whispers, rubbing her back.

[Y/N] closes her eyes and embraces George tight.

“It’s okay, George. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“We had another prank we were going to pull on you, but we won’t. You still look shaken up,” Fred says.

“Fred, you might want to move that boggart. It’s in Ron’s chest.”

“On it. Thanks for the heads up, [Y/N].”

“All we wanted was to pull a spooky prank on you,” George says.

“Next year. Now let me tell you about my plans for Halloween.”

George and [Y/N] walk over to a couch and sit down. George listens thoroughly to her plan and loves very detail. This was going to be the best prank yet.

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

Sorry, this was so bad, but I can’t get into the mindset of Halloween and writing in general.

I was actually listening to Christmas music writing this, haha!

31 notes · View notes

being-worthy · 3 years

Text

Sunday Home Cinema: Army of the Dead!!

I haven't done one of these reviews in a long time (thanks to Covid-19 ¬¬) but I'm glad this film was the one to get me back in doing these reviews.

Honestly, I found out about the film about two weeks ago when I clicked on it on YouTube out of curiosity. It looked good and I'm an all big fan of zombie films and series and every zombie-themed film/series, even if it's extremely bad made (e.g. Z Nation but it's so funny to watch).

Sorry for any mistakes or things that make not much sense but I'm writing this at 2.30am and I just wanted to write this down while it's still fresh (I might review it later on if I feel like it).

> SPOILER ALERT AHEAD!! <

Apparently, Zack Snyder's Army of the Dead (here's the trailer), which can be watched on Netflix, is the prequel of Dawn of the Dead from 2004 also directed by him, which was a remake of the George A. Romero classic. I've got a hard time seeing this due to the zombies being so different but well, let's just roll with it.

Scott Ward (played by Dave Bautista) is offered/hired for $50 million by Bly Tanaka (villain/businessman played by Hiroyuki Sanada) to break into a walled Las Vegas after it was overrun by a zombie outbreak starting at the outskirts of the city with patient zero aka alpha zombie Zeus (more to the different zombie types later on) to "apparently" retrieve $200 million that is stashed in a safe at the casino's basement. Basically, it's like Ocean's Eleven but with zombies giving the film a nice touch.

I knew from the moment Tanaka offered Scott this job that there was going to be more to it. Why else would a stinking rich guy like Tanaka need to have a group to retrieve some money when: a. the insurance paid him some of that money back. I know he mentions he can't use it but come on, people like him know how to find either a way around whatever rule there might be or even wash it. And b. he looks like a guy who understands how business works and is well off, so you're telling me he wants to send a group there just for $200 million? B*tch please, I'm sure that's just petty cash to him, and there's surely more to it, especially after one of his goons (Martin) "invites" himself to tag along with the group to "make sure" they get the job done.

If I was offered that kind of money to go to a completely sealed city ruled by zombies, I wouldn't accept it no matter how bad my situation might be. The probability that something might go sideways is too high not to mention the risk that the virus spreads out to the rest of the world, I wouldn’t be able to live with that on my conscience.

In order to pull off this heist Scott assembles a team for the mission:

Vanderohe, the tank and chainsaw man. There'll be a little paragraph for him since his fate doesn't make entirely sense to me.

Marianne Peters, the pilot.

Maria Cruz, the mechanic.

Kate Ward, a volunteer in the quarantine zone. She's Scott's daughter and the only (human) survivor in the film.

Geeta, the mother. She ventures into the zombie-infested Vegas to find money in order to pay for safe passage out of the quarantine zone for herself and her children. I believe she dies in the helicopter crash but we don't see her body, so she might be alive somewhat?

Ludwig Dieter, the thief/safe expert, and I love how he questions everything lol!

Lilly "The Coyote", "the one who knows her stuff" aka zombie expert. Somehow interesting that she's got a conscience/good heart.

Martin, the inside man, and Bly Tanaka's right hand and got the death he deserved by kitten Valentine.

Mikey Guzman, the Sharpshooter and a YouTuber.

Chambers, the muscles and Guzman's sidekick (sort of). Her death was very predictable and her own fault! Girl, why the hell would you tell Martin that you don't trust him directly to his face?! That's such a rookie mistake!!

Burt Cummings, also the muscle for like 5 minutes before turning into the bait/bargain chip for a "deal" with the zombies in order to pass their territory. Overall, he's just a big jerk.

We see the first five people are survivors of the outbreak when Vegas was "freshly" being overrun by zombies and barely made it out of the city before it was completely sealed off. The rest of them are new characters. Almost none of them have any deep character story/feeling/development, most of them are quite plain and you don't care whether they survive or not. I've got also a hard time seeing any father-daughter relationship between Scott and Kate. I get that they haven't talked to each other since Scott had to put down Kate's mother after she got turned into a zombie but if I hadn’t seen the beginning I'd say they're just two strangers who met during the outbreak and he saved her at some point.

I very much like the fact that they introduce different types of zombies! On one hand, we've got the standard zombies aka shamblers who move slowly and are dead if you blow their brains out and if they bite you you become a shambler too. Then, there are the alphas who are fast (so fast that they can dodge bullets), they can also think, take orders, and are very organised. If you're bitten by one you become an alpha too but they also die if they're shot in the head which is easier said than done! We've also got a zombie horse, that's more bone than anything else, and a big tiger kitten called Valentine who used to be part of Siegfried & Roy's show (which also throws in the question, during which year is this movie set? They've both already passed away and they haven’t been retired from the entertainment world for a while before they passed away, and we see Tanaka carrying a modern mobile, so it must be during the past 2-3 our years.)

Their leader is patient zero aka Zeus who we see at the beginning being transported by a convoy of soldiers from Area 51 to somewhere else but never makes it there because he breaks free due to part of the convoy crashing into a car of a recent married (while the guy gets a blowjob and doesn’t watch the road!). He also takes the Bride as his queen (later on she's beheaded and her head still alive), who we see to be pregnant!! HOLY COW!! This throws in sooo many questions! For instance, how do zombies reproduce? The same way as we humans? What will the baby look like? Full zombie? A hybrid, half-human half-zombie? What power would they have? Do I even want to know or see this? Probably. Probably not. How many times did I wish they'd have introduced something like this in TWD (before I stopped watching it). At some point the virus that makes people zombies is supposed to mutate, every virus mutates at some point. We did already see a zombie baby in Dawn of the Dead but that was different since the woman was already in the late stages of pregnancy when she got bit. This one was one that was produced from zombie sex. I’ve got a feeling that their sex must be quite violent to say the least. Also, they way how the care for each other, especially Zeus for his Bride and child and seeks vengeance for both their deaths showing they’re capable of feeling and caring for their people. Maybe, just maybe want to find a way to survive without having to turn people but I think they’ll still need humans as a source of food. I don’t think they’re capable to live from eating normal food.

I've to make a special mention about Vanderohe. Besides, the fact that he's very attractive, there are a few things that don't make entirely sense to me.

He survives the nuclear blast of Las Vegas since he was looked inside the safe, which I can see being possible but (a little more possible than Indiana Jones seeking shelter in an old-fashioned fridge from a nuclear blast in Indiana Jones and Kingdom of Crystal Skull)... the whole city was nuked! And I mean big smoke of mushroom nuke! So, shouldn't the place, I don't know, be radioactive or something like that? And shouldn’t he find the nearest decontamination shower? Furthermore, it doesn't make sense that he gets infected, i.e. bitten. He gets into a fight with Zeus while they're in front of the safe and I watched that part several times and in slow motion too and we don't see Zeus bit him. There's one time where Zeus almost bites him but his teeth don't end up sinking into the flesh. He has Van in his hold, dislocates his right shoulder, and almost bites him there but only almost! In that same moment, Dieter hits Zeus in the head and pulls Van into the safe closing the door behind him (and most likely gets killed/turned by Zeus). I repeat there's no "visible" scene of Van being bitten by Zeus or any other zombie in another scene. So, where the f*ck did he get the bite and from who? I've also read that there's a theory of Van being immune because he's not turning as quick as the soldiers at the beginning of the movie when Zeus escapes the convoy (he still might be able to infect others though). He starts to feel lightheaded/dizzy and his body feels cold to the touch on the plane, and around the bite we see the veins turning black but that's it.

As much as I love the concept of the movie, it's very predictable as well as easy to figure out who makes it out alive and who makes it out the other kind of "alive" and it also reminded me a bit of Resident Evil (the first film was good and the rest just a waste). Tanaka wanting a fresh sample of an Alpha to make a virus that enables him to create an army of zombies he can control and take over the world. He could be Wesker's twin and his company the equivalent of the Umbrella Corporation. It's worth to watch but it doesn't compare to other zombie films such as 28 Days Later or even Dawn of the Dead (the classic and newer version), and many others.

#army of the dead #zack snyder #netflix #netflix original #sunday home cinema #honest review #film night #movie night #the ending makes no sense

2 notes · View notes

formula365 · 3 years

Text

The most interesting of uninteresting races - Sakhir GP preview

A couple of weeks ago, it felt that F1’s final triple header of 2020 was going to be a quiet affair. After Mercedes and Hamilton wrapped up their respective titles, it seemed that the main story for the 3 races in the Levant would be the battle for 3rd in the constructors’ championship. Yes, there were still races to be won, and some seats up for grabs, and the Perez-Albon axis would be a focal point for pundits, but it felt very much like the twilight of the season.

Well, F1 comes at you fast (literally), and even more so in 2020, it seems. On Sunday, Hamilton’s 11th win of the season was overshadowed by Grosjean’s massive crash and the ensuing conversation over safety and what went well and not so well. After the race, it felt like this topic and Grosjean’s recovery would be the main story of the week, but then, for the third time, a driver caught COVID, and this time, it was the champion-elect.

Lewis Hamilton tested negative three times during the race weekend, but started feeling symptoms on Monday morning, and had two positive results on that day. The announcement the following day sent the F1 world into a spin. It would be the first time since Brazil 2006 that an F1 grid would not include Hamilton, and, given his dominance throughout the season, any race without him suddenly becomes a much more open and intriguing affair.

But even more crucial than that was the question on everyone’s mind: with Hamilton ruled out of (at least) the Sakhir GP, who would step in for him at Mercedes?

The reserve driver Stoffel Vandoorne was the most obvious choice. Already acquainted with the team and the car (at least via simulator), the Belgian was wrapping up preseason testing for the upcoming Formula E season and was already planned to fly to Bahrain anyway. But the Mercedes hierarchy had him as a number two choice, as this was a major opportunity for them to test the heir apparent to the team in their actual car.

It is no secret that Mercedes reached out to Williams to enquire about the availability of George Russell for 2021, before making the decision of giving Bottas another 1-year extension. The Grove-based team told them they did not wish to release him from his contract for next year, but there was no doubt that Russell was a strong candidate to take one of the Silver Arrows seats for 2022. And if Hamilton decides to continue into the new F1 era that will start in that season, then it is Bottas’ seat that will be, once again, in question.

This was, then, the perfect opportunity for Mercedes to evaluate their protege in an actual race environment, and have him go toe-to-toe with his main rival for that seat. I don’t think anyone in the team is expecting Russell to beat Bottas outright, but he won’t need to either. If he stays close to the Finn in the timesheets and impresses the team with work ethics and commitment, he will be taking a huge step towards securing that dream move.

Bottas, on the other hand, will be perfectly aware of this, which puts some additional pressure on him to perform. He cannot afford to be beaten by his one-weekend teammate; that would absolutely seal his fate for 2022. Ultimately, there might not be much that he can do to help his cause. Even if he does win the race and keeps Russell comfortably at bay, it will be the youngster’s performance that will be of more interest to the team. If Russell does well enough, there is nothing Bottas can do.

It is crazy that a race at the tail end of the 2020 season can have such deep ramifications into the 2022 season, but this has been a crazy year in more ways than one. This one-off race in a crazy layout of the Sakhir circuit will see two debutants and a stand-in for the champion-elect, while two drivers recover from health issues. There will be plenty of interest to see how all these permutations will affect the weekend, and what these out-of-place drivers can achieve. And, most importantly, we might even see the Mercedes 2022 line-up take shape.

Talking points

• Another driver under pressure to perform this weekend will be Latifi, whose seat is not in danger but that will be left to look silly if he is beaten by his teammate. Also, the shuffle up front puts even more pressure on Albon, who will be expected to beat his good friend George, since he is much more accustomed to his car. As if he needed any more pressure on him.

• Stoffel Vandoorne ended up being the big loser in the Mercedes decision. The Belgian driver just does not seem to get a lucky break with F1: after two years at a McLaren close to its lowest point, he doesn’t even get the chance to fulfil his role as reserve driver for the best team ever in the history of the sport. Perhaps it is best that he focuses his career elsewhere, as his FE car also seems to be capable of fighting for wins and getting into the title fight.

• Wednesday morning saw most of the big announcements of the week in terms of driver swaps, but the best news of that day was Grosjean’s release from hospital. After that enormous scare, it was fantastic to see him walk out with a huge smile on his face, and hearing him say that he wanted to return for the Abu Dhabi GP, for what will be his F1 swan song. Absolutely nothing will beat seeing him back on the grid for that.

• His vacated seat at Haas, as well as Russel’s vacated seat at Williams, will provide the opportunity to two drivers to have their debut in F1. Pietro Fittipaldi will stand in for the Frenchman at Haas; the Brazilian is the team’s reserve driver and spent the year in the garage with them, so will be well acquainted with the team members and their procedures. The same can be said for Jack Aitken, who will run for Williams. After an unlucky run with Campos in this F2 season, this will be a richly deserved reward.

• Fittipaldi’s run with Haas will not represent an opportunity for him to stake a claim on one of their seats for next year, as the team announced their line-up, confirming the rumours that had been circulating for a few weeks. Mick Schumacher and Nikita Mazepin, respectively first and third in the F2 championship, will be driving in F1 for the American team. The return of the Schumacher name was expected and it will be great to see Mick test his talent at the highest level. He hasn’t blitzed the field this season, but rather has impressed with consistency and regularity, traits that bode well for a future champion.

Mazepin arrives with the tag of paid driver - which isn’t in itself incorrect, but is one that glues to the skin of the driver and is incredibly difficult to remove, regardless of results. The Russian has been slowly climbing the table in F2, having won 2 races. However, his general demeanour and attitude, on and off the track, leaves many question marks over this decision. His father brings significant backing to the team, but if he doesn’t clean his act the negative impact of his behaviour can be costly for Haas.

• I am truly excited to see a completely different layout this weekend. The current calendar (2020 exceptions aside) features tracks with so many similarities, it is truly refreshing to see a short, ultra-quick layout, just to shake things up. Qualifying risks being quite the mess, and lapped cars will be a nuisance to the leaders, but I, for one, can’t wait to see them blast around Bahrain’s outer loop.

#sakhir grand prix #lewis hamilton #Valtteri Bottas #George Russell #alex albon #mick schumacher #romain grosjean #stoffel vandoorne #nikita mazepin

9 notes · View notes

timelordthirteen · 4 years

Text

In All Things 19/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Belle recalls a pivotal event in her engagement with Gaston, and then talks plans with Gold.

Notes: So this chapter is one I have been dreading because it starts to get into Belle's backstory, her relationship with Gaston, how it ended, etc., and a portion of what is coming is very personal for me and a large reason I started writing this story. I want to emphasize that while Gaston is definitely a jerk and did not do what he should have done in this situation, it's not as clear cut a case of sexual assault or anything else that it may appear on the surface. There are more things at play, and things going on with Belle that lead to this which will be coming out in the next chapter or two. Please note the tag updates on AO3.

Warning: Sexual assault vibes

[AO3]

Eight months ago...

Belle’s back hit the bookshelves beside her writing desk, rattling the oil lamp, and sending one of her pens rolling down to the chair.

She turned her head in time to see it hit the cushion just before Gaston’s arm came up to brace next to her head. Her eyelids fluttered as he pressed his mouth to her neck, a pleasant tingle rippling down her spine. He pulled back, smiling at her, and she bit her lip.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

His head tilted. “We are to be married in a month, so what does it matter?”

She licked her lips, her eyes searching his, uncertain of what she was hoping to find there. Gaston was everything she wanted, at least on the surface. He was handsome, wealthy, and in good standing with the rest of the kingdom, having been raised to the knighthood only a few weeks ago. When her father had proposed the idea of marriage to Sir Gaston, she had thought it to be as good a match as she could hope for, if not better. Yet it felt like there was a piece missing.

They’d been engaged for a few months, and aside from a few kisses, they hadn’t been this physical. She wasn’t against it, personally, though some in society frowned on the behavior, but while his kisses had begun to stir something in her, it was hard to push aside her reservations and give herself over to whatever pleasure there might be. It had always been a trial for her in that area, and she worried that in spite of what she might want to do in her head, her body would once again decide otherwise.

“Belle.” He caught her chin with his finger and made her look up at him.

The angle was awkward, and she thought perhaps he might be just a little too tall for her, however statuesque that made his figure. After a long moment, she gave a little nod and pushed up on her toes, sealing her lips to his. He took it as an invitation for more, and before she knew what was happening, he had started to lift her skirts.

Startled, she pulled back, her hands flat against his chest. “Wait -” She panted for breath. “Wait.”

Gaston frowned and shifted his other hand around to her backside, squeezing it roughly. “I’ve been waiting, Belle. I’ve been very patient.”

He mouthed at her neck, wetly, and she made a face into his shoulder. There was another brief jolt of pleasure and then something else, a pressure low in her abdomen that she wanted to ignore, and forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. His hand spanned her thigh above her stocking, his thumb rubbing over the muscle that twitched beneath it, before moving higher and pulling at the laces on her drawers.

She gasped when she felt them loosen and slip down, and Gaston whispered something lewd in her ear that she barely heard. Her breathing increased, and she squeezed her legs together at the first touch of his fingers. He was still kissing her, moving along her jaw and her neck, and knocking against her chin, hushing her and asking her to open her legs. She frowned and tried to relax, shifting her thighs apart, willing to let it happen in the hopes that this time would be different, this time it would be good.

Then his fingers breached her folds and -

“Stop!”

Belle grabbed for her drawers, pulling them up all the way as Gaston stepped back. He was holding his hand up, looking between it and her, while she clutched at her stomach. The ache was already beginning to subside, but she knew he’d felt it too. He came towards her and she tried to step back, but ended up hitting the shelves and forcing the breath from her chest.

“What was - what was that?”

She buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry! I can’t help it!”

Gaston made a face and stared down at her. “Belle, just - just let me try again.”

She started to sob, already imagining how this would further ruin her family. “I can’t. It - it hurts too much.”

He leaned in, pressing against her thigh and hip. His arousal was a hard ridge and the thought of it in place of his hand scared her. Her muscles clenched again and she winced, holding up a hand to keep him back.

Belle hesitantly looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, reaching for her skirt again. “I can fix it, I’ll make it good for you.”

He lifted her skirts, his hands pulling at the fabric as he pushed against her. Pain radiated out from her lower abdomen, making her want to bend in half, but his weight pressing into her prevented it. She wanted to want him, but it was hard to find the pleasurable feelings from earlier behind the sharp ache. Her face turned away from his as he tried to kiss her again, and her eyes landed on the writing desk.

“I can’t,” she repeated.

A silver letter opener stuck up out of a slot at the top, its pearl handle shimmering in the late summer light, and she reached for it.

Belle shivered as the memory faded and rubbed her arms, wishing she’d worn a long sleeved dress today or through to bring her shawl.

Outside there was a fresh, thick blanket of snow from a storm that passed through overnight. She’d watched it with Bae and Gold after dinner last night, the three of them sitting together on the sofa in the sitting room that overlooked the garden. She read aloud to them, from a book about a young boy who could talk to horses. Bae liked it so much he made her promise they would bring it back with them to Thornhill, and that she would read it a chapter to him every night until it was finished, though she was of a mind to nudge the boy into reading some himself.

It had been so cozy and perfect, with the crack of the fire and their bellies full of hearty winter stew, roasted vegetables, and warm bread. Gold kept stealing looks at her over Bae’s head where he sat between them, his expression pleased, but tinged with something she couldn’t read. It was easy to imagine many future nights that way, like they were a real family.

Sighing, she moved back to the sofa and sat down in front of the fire. It had been many months since she’d thought about that fateful night with Gaston which had set so many things in motion. Her actions in the moment were impulsive and rash, but she didn’t regret them, not even now that she knew what ruin they had brought upon Avonlea.

Gold had met her for breakfast that morning, and they’d gone to her father immediately after to get the true story of the state of the financial affairs of the estate. To his credit, Maurice was equal parts forthcoming and repentant. He confessed King George had ordered him to take Milton as the new steward, though he didn’t know why at the time. The unmarked payments were to Sir Gaston, to keep the details of the abruptly cancelled engagement quiet.

Belle had exchanged quite a look with Gold at that revelation, and she understood that at some point she would need to lay bare most of the details, though she hoped to keep her own shame a secret. The finances were as bad as she had suspected, with the payments to Gaston increasing in frequency after her marriage to Gold instead of decreasing.

That had made Gold angry, and for a moment she thought he might put his cane through a window, or worse yet, her father, but he reigned in his rage and directed his energy towards setting out a plan to put things right. First, the extortion payments to Gaston would cease, and instead be directed towards paying down the debt to the King. That had made her father very nervous, and the two men had argued back and forth for some time before she couldn’t take it anymore and raised her voice to make them stop.

The very existence of the payments made her furious. As if what had happened between them wasn’t bad enough, Gaston had to use it to cover up his own guilt in the matter, and hasten Avonlea’s insolvency.

Second, Gold would provide a stipend to cover the rest of the existing debt, thus making it appear that the situation was better than it was. Gold wouldn’t be taking on the full account himself, but it made Belle uneasy. She didn’t want to feel even more obligated towards her husband than she already was, though it was for purely prideful reasons than any belief she had that Gold might call on that obligation.

There was no way to ever repay him if he did.

“There you are.”

The sound of Gold’s voice made her smile a little, and she twisted in her seat to see him standing in the doorway of the library. He pushed off the frame and came towards her, his limp the most pronounced she’d ever seen it, even after half carrying her through the snow.

“Were you looking for me?” she asked.

He shrugged one shoulder and came to stand by the end of the sofa. “You didn’t join us for lunch, and I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

She exhaled and fixed her gaze on the fire. “I’m fine.”

The noise he made was somewhere between a grunt and a scoff as he shifted from one foot to the other. “Are you certain?”

Belle gave him a sideways glance and nodded as she idly rubbed her arms. “As certain as I can be of anything.”

“Cold?” Gold asked, stepping around the sofa.

She sighed. “It’s just a chill. This room was always a bit drafty in the winter.”

He set his cane against the edge of the sofa, and then proceeded to undo the buttons on the front of his coat. She looked up at him, almost startled, and he smiled down at her as he slipped his arms out of the heavy wool sleeves and set the coat over her shoulders. Then he gave her a half smile and sat down at the other end of the sofa, a full cushion between them.

“Thank you,” she said, adjusting the fabric over her shoulders.

He’d done the same thing after rescuing her from nearly freezing to death in the garden not even two days ago, but she’d been too upset and bewildered to comprehend the significance of it. She was wrapped in something that had been warmed by the heat of his body, and there was an intimacy to it that was surprisingly comfortable, as though he made a habit of wearing it only so she could later use it to ward off a chill.

The coat smelled faintly of sandalwood, which she knew was mixed into some of the soaps at Thornhill as there were some in her bathing room as well. It was something she’d come to associate with him, along with a hint of spice and something earthy that reminded her of a forest after a rain. It was odd that she should have thought so much about it, but now that it was surrounding her she couldn’t help it.

“I get the impression you don’t entirely approve of my plan for the estate’s finances?”

His voice almost startled her, and she lifted her face, hoping he had not noticed her surreptitiously sniffing his coat. “Well, I don’t think it’s as simple as me approving or disapproving. It’s - it’s complicated.”

“Much like your relationship with Gaston was.”

She shot him a quick look, and then sighed. "I know I owe you an explanation, and -"

"No," Gold interrupted, "you owe me nothing, except what we've already agreed to as it pertains to Bae."

She met his eyes, hesitantly, and he shifted closer, reaching for her hand.

"But if you want to tell me what happened, I will listen. Please understand that it will make no difference in how I handle this business. A broken engagement, whatever the circumstances, is no cause for blackmail."

He pulled back, the gentle, warm pressure of his hand leaving hers, and she missed it immediately. There was a grounding reassurance in the way he sought out her touch in these moments, anchoring them to each other, but he always let go a little too soon.

"I worry what might happen once Gaston realizes the money has stopped," she said.

Gold nodded. "It will be another month at least before then, but I do share your concern.”

She shook her head and fiddled with the fat brass button on the cuff of his coat. “What can we do?”

“I believe Gaston can be dealt with,” he answered. “I have someone looking into him.”

His cryptic reply made her raise an eyebrow as she twisted in her seat to face him. “Looking into him?”

“Yes.” He saw the twitch of her lips and started to smile. “I like to know as much as I can about my enemies.”

Belle’s eyes widened as she sat back. “Enemies? Gaston is your enemy?”

Gold met her gaze, and her breath caught. His face was stern and his eyes dark; he looked exactly as he did right before he’d attacked Milton, a quiet rage simmering beneath the surface. It wasn’t directed at her, but it still frightened her all the same until he looked away, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“He has done harm to you and your family,” he said, “therefore yes, he is my enemy.” Then he sighed heavily, and his shoulders sagged. “I suspect some of this is my fault, so must the remedy be mine as well.”

She frowned and reached for him, placing her hand on his forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “How do you mean?”

“I’m afraid I have taken some advantage of the situation,” he said, softly, keeping his eyes fixed on his cane as he idly twisted it back and forth. “I suspect that the King became quite disgruntled when he heard I would be marrying you, and thus assuming the estate’s debts.”

Belle let out a soft humorless laugh. “I would believe the latter over the former, but why would he care? Why does he want - “ She stopped and pressed her lips together, emotion rising up in her again at the thought of losing Avonlea. “Why - why here?”

Gold shrugged and sat back, reaching for her free hand as she looked away, swiping quickly at her eyes with the other. “I haven’t sussed out why this estate has become particularly desirable to him, but it won’t happen. I promise.”

His last words made her turn again, and she gave him a wobbly smile. “I know,” she managed. “I - I trust you.”

His face changed then, softening even as he held her hand a little tighter, his thumb rubbing over the simple gold band he’d given her on their wedding day, and she was hit with a revelation. She believed what she’d said. She trusted him, in a way that suddenly seemed implicit and enduring, as though she’d had years to come to the realization.

“When, um - when we get back,” she said, watching the steady motion of his thumb sliding back and forth, “after things are settled with our plans, we need to talk. About things. Do you understand?”

Her eyes met his and she had to bite back a gasp. He looked almost awed, and yet terrified at the same time, and for a long moment she worried that she’d said the wrong thing, that he didn’t understand at all. Then he lifted their joined hands, bringing hers to his lips where he pressed them to her ring, much more firmly than the last time he’d done so. Something had changed, but she couldn't say what, only that she felt warm and flushed head to toe, the chill of the library little more than an afterthought, as he smiled at her.

“Yes,” he said finally, her hand still wrapped in his, “I do.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #belle x mr. gold #arranged marriage au #in all things #my rumbelle fic #fic

33 notes · View notes

butchgwenwhyvar · 4 years

Text

The Star Wars Prequels are a Greek Tragedy

Ok folks, buckle in because this classics nerd has made some Connections™

One of the main themes in the prequels (and by extension, the clone wars) is the inevitability of it all – I know it’s because it’s a prequel and as such, we know their fate, but that’s why it works.

(For the purpose of this meta post, please assume that when I say ‘the prequels’ and proceed to talk about Ahsoka or Rex, I mean ‘the prequels and the clone wars’ – it’s all part of the same story)

(Important fact that relates to this meta post but doesn’t have much bearing on the actual argument #1: Anakin’s name comes from the Greek Goddess of inevitability, Ananke.)

But the main argument is this: the prequels follow the format and pattern of a Greek tragedy. A Greek tragedy always has the audience take part in the form of the ‘chorus’ on stage – the chorus keep the story going and tell the audience what’s up, but they also provide an insight into the characters and question the characters on behalf of the audience (most tragedies are set in populated cities and palaces but a theatre troupe was traditionally around 5 people, so they had to get creative with extras and stuff). In the prequels and the clone wars, the role of the chorus is directly on the audience because we know what’s going to happen. We know about order 66 thanks to the start of season 6 and the end of season 7. We know that the sweet nine year old we meet in the phantom menace will become Vader. We know that Padme will die and that the Republic will fall and Palpatine will take power.

To us, the chorus, it’s inevitable. But we also know the future of the characters, so there’s a thread of dramatic irony woven in (dramatic irony is a central part of the format of a Greek tragedy) because we know about the original trilogy and the fact that Luke will save Vader and the Empire gets royally fucked up by the rebels.

In Greek tragedy, the dramatic irony is a little less on the nose though. In Oedipus the King (Oedipus Rex in Latin), the chorus and the audience know what’s going to happen from the start. By the time Sophocles had written down the play it had already been performed at least once at the Dionysia, an Athenian play festival where everyone got very drunk and people ran play contests – Sophocles was a common contributor to the contests, and it was recorded that he never got below second place. So as this play is being performed in the late third century BCE, it’s been around for around 100 years. The audience knows what’s up – they know that Jocasta is actually Oedipus’ mother, they know that Oedipus is actually the one that killed Laius and is bringing down the gods’ displeasure on Thebes. So when Oedipus and Creon are talking to Tiresias and saying ‘well, someone has to be cursed because that’s the only way we’ve pissed the gods off enough,’ the audience (and to an extent Tiresias, because he was a prophet) get a sense of dramatic irony. It’s similar to the scene in Attack of the Clones when Dooku’s talking about the sith in the senate – we as the chorus and the audience go ‘It’s Palpatine!’ because we’ve seen the originals and we know about the fall of the republic.

The sense of dramatic irony really helps to build the inevitability of it all because as the chorus, we know the future of these characters.

Another thing that characterises the prequels as a specifically Greek tragedy is the use of fatal flaws and how they relate to the character’s virtues. Anakin’s main character traits are his general mistrust of authority, his sense of personal loyalty and his need to help others – he’s proven that he’d burn the galaxy down for his family and the people he loves, and there’s quite a few poignant scenes in the clone wars EU novels where he’s mourning the clones and generally caring a lot about them (if you want specific novels, Karen Miller’s ‘Clone Wars: Gambit – Stealth’ is excellent and is the source of that excellent ‘blind me and I’ll tell you who laughed’ quote, and Karen Traviss’ novelisation of the clone wars movie has lots of scenes with Anakin being a good bro to Rex and caring about the 501st). Padme’s main trait is her belief in human decency (we’re using human in this case because I’m relating it back to humans) – she cares deeply about seeing the good in people, up to her dying moments. Obi-Wan’s main trait is his dedication to the Order and their rules.

However, if you turn these traits on their heads, you get their fatal flaws and their ultimate downfall. Vader’s issues with authority and his need to save those he cares about lands him in the suit and as the Emperor’s attack dog. Padme can’t see the problems in the republic and all the things going wrong with Anakin until it’s too late because she’s so focussed on seeing the good in what’s left. Obi-Wan fails as Anakin’s mentor because he was too focused on the way things should have been (let the record show I am not shitting on Obi-Wan, this is just my thoughts about the narrative and this part of the Skywalker debacle).

In Oedipus Rex and Antigone (written before Oedipus, set after Oedipus – it’s about his daughter), the same thing happens. Oedipus’ loyalty to Thebes and his unwavering sense of duty makes him an excellent king – he listens to his people and takes their complaints into account. Creon’s ability to stick to the rules and provide a safe kingdom makes him the perfect second choice as king (this will make more sense when I talk about Antigone because Creon is a main character in this play as well – his character arc spans the two plays). Jocasta is kind and sees the best in everyone (I’m sensing a theme). But if you turn that on its head, all the ugly details come out. Oedipus has inadvertently committed one of the worst sins that the gods can think of a punishment for, and he’s promised the people of Thebes that whoever has cursed the land will be banished for life. When he finds out that his wife is also his mother and he murdered his birth father years ago, he blinds himself in shame but asks to stay in Thebes. This is where Creon’s flaw starts to appear – Oedipus asks to stay and Creon casts him out. Oedipus keeps his loyalty to the Thebans by maiming himself and marking himself as the cursed person, but he doesn’t think his actions through. If he’s banished, his four children will also be banished with him and will suffer for the rest of their lives. Staying is the only option. But Creon is too obsessed with placating the Thebans and the gods, so Oedipus and his children are cast out because of Creon’s determination to stick to the rules. Jocasta’s need to see the best in everyone leads to her denying that her husband is also her son, even once she’s put the pieces together – there’s a scene where she’s talking to her main and her maid asks and she refuses to acknowledge it. This leads to her killing herself in shame once the news has gotten out. It’s inevitable. The audience know and love this play. They know what’s coming.

And then Antigone happens. Antigone is Oedipus’ eldest daughter. Her siblings are Ismene, the youngest, Eteocles, and Polynices. Eteocles and Polynices have declared war on each other (Eteocles is fighting for Thebes, where Creon is the king now) and have killed each other. Eteocles is to be buried with full honours, while Polynices’ body is to be left in the dust (the Greeks believed that being buried in the dirt was the only way to get into the afterlife). So Antigone tries to bury Polynices over the course of the story – her main character trait is her loyalty and her persistence. Creon is still too wedded to the rules, but now he’s also stuck on his own idea of power – the king’s word above all else, even the gods.

The play ends with Antigone’s suicide after being banished to a sealed cave for the rest of her life (she keeps covering Polynices’ body in dirt until Creon gets sick of it and sends her to the cave). Her loyalty and her tenacity have become her downfall and led to her death (for those interested, Antigone’s death led to Creon burying Polynices properly). Creon’s virtues of being a rule-following king lead to him essentially going mad with power, which leads to his son killing himself after he hears of Antigone’s sentence, his wife killing herself after she hears of Haemon’s death, and Creon’s apparent suicide (he gets an open ending but it’s widely accepted that he dies as well).

Relating this back to Star Wars and the point I made earlier: the prequels are pretty much the only Star Wars media where the character’s virtues become their flaws. It’s very hubristic and I love it. Ahsoka’s virtue is in her persistence and her drive to survive while trying to do what’s right – turn it on its head and she’s unleashing Maul on a bunch of 66’d clones to escape. On first watch, Rex’s virtue seems to be his loyalty to the Republic, but that’s brought into contention in season 1. His actual virtue is his loyalty to his brothers but that’s turned on its head in episodes 11 and 12 when he’s forced to shoot and stun them and know that they’re going to die and there’s nothing he can do to save them, which almost leads to him giving up entirely in episode 12.

And that leads me back to my main point. George Lucas wrote the prequels and most of the clone wars like the archetype of the Greek tragedy on purpose, to show the inevitability of the story.

The main parts of a Greek tragedy are as follows: Hubris (personal pride leading to a downfall)

The Chorus and the use of dramatic irony

Virtues as fatal flaws

Catharsis

The main parts of the prequels are as follows:

Hubris (the Jedi and the Republic’s pride lead to their downfall, Anakin and Obi-Wan’s pride leads to Mustafar)

The Audience and the use of dramatic irony

Virtues as fatal flaws

Catharsis

Hope

Back to inevitability: the use of virtues as flaws leads to the inevitability of the tragedy of Anakin Skywalker. He can’t not be loyal and caring to the point of obsession, jealousy, and overprotectiveness. Padme can’t not deeply believe in the power of human kindness and their ability to believe in a better system. Obi-Wan can’t not be wedded to the rules far too much. To take all of this away from their characters is to leave them as completely different people. An Anakin that doesn’t care as much is an Anakin that’s closer to the ‘perfect Jedi,’ a Padme that doesn’t believe in a better system is a Padme that lets even more atrocities fly under the radar in the senate. An Obi-Wan that’s not wedded to the Code and the Order and the Rules is an Obi-Wan seen in the early Jedi Apprentice books – a Jedi always on the brink of snapping, falling, or expulsion from the Order. So you see these character traits and you see what’s coming and it’s inevitable because these virtues and therefore flaws are what makes the character them, which progresses the story.

The use of dramatic irony also highlights the inevitability within the stories of the prequels and the tragedies. The audience of the films and the chorus/audience of the plays know what the characters don’t. They know that Oedipus is Jocasta’s son. They know that Antigone and the rest of Creon’s family will kill themselves. We know Anakin will fall. We know Padme will die. We know about the fall of the Republic and the rise of the Empire. But they don’t and that’s why the dramatic irony works so well. We’re on the edge of our seats, waiting for the moment when it all clicks – when someone listens to Fives about the chips and takes action – when Anakin gets help – where Padme survives – where Obi-Wan puts aside the Order and tries to help Anakin and reassures him. But it never happens, and we know that.

Every time we watch the prequels or the clone wars, we think ‘maybe this time it will turn out alright’ but it’s inevitable that it won’t because it’s written like a Greek tragedy and those always end in the darkest possible way.

There’s another common thread between the prequels and Greek tragedy as well – catharsis. It’s the breaking point and the aftermath, where consequences are dealt out. The catharsis in Oedipus is obvious – it’s when Oedipus blinds himself and is banished. The catharsis in Antigone is subtler but infinitely more painful. Creon is punished for disobeying the gods and as his punishment, Antigone (his son’s fiancée), Haemon (his son), and his wife are all dead, all by their own hand. This brings him shame and it’s widely accepted that he goes off and kills himself, which is even more of a punishment (suicide was not welcomed in the Greek afterlife – they’d often go to the Fields of Punishment or the Fields of Asphodel). The catharsis in the prequels is glaringly obvious in comparison. Anakin faces massive consequences for his actions, which stay with him for the next 25 or so years. He can’t go back to the way everything was, because he’s burnt it all down around him. He’s punished psychologically and physically until his death, as punishment for his mistakes and his actions. The audience feels catharsis here as well, as Anakin doesn’t get away with his actions. His end is especially cathartic, not just because he got his comeuppance, but because he dies to undo a little bit of the horrors he’s committed.

So the prequels and a Greek tragedy always end in tears, and the quote at the start of the Revenge of the Sith novelisation (thank you Matthew Stover) sums this up perfectly. ‘This story happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. It is already over. Nothing can be done to change it. The inevitability of all of these stories I’ve talked about is woven into it’s very fabric, and nothing can be done to change it.

However, there is one way in which the prequels are different to a typical tragedy – the prequels end with a shred of hope. Tragedies have to finish with the catharsis and complete and utter bleakness and the destruction of a heap of lives – Creon’s family dies, Oedipus loses his wife and his sight, Anakin and Palpatine destroy the Jedi – it’s one of the hallmarks that makes it a tragedy and not just ‘some play by Sophocles.’ The prequels finish with Bail and Breha and Leia in the palace on Alderaan. They finish with Luke with Beru and Owen on Tatooine, where Shmi and Anakin were from. They finish with hope, which is a complete turnaround from the tragedies that the story is written to fit in with.

#lee writes #star wars #prequels #tcw #meta #anakin #padme #obi-wan #rex #ahsoka #I need a classics tag

28 notes · View notes