if you haven’t already watched Netflix’s Castlevania, let me give you just a few reasons why you should drop everything and go hit ‘play’:
• first of all, you don’t need to be a fan of the videogames to understand/appreciate the series. I had no idea what it was about and loved it all the same. You won’t be catapulted in a story you know nothing about: all you need to know is already in the show. So yeah, Castlevania really *is* for everyone (except little kids – it gets violent)
• the animation is simply wonderful.
I’m no expert, but the colours and the actions and the characters and the settings MY GOD THEY ARE MAGNIFICENT, THAT’S ART™.
[“okay but hOW CAN SOMEONE BE THIS TALENTED”, me, two seconds in]
• THE DIALOGUES AND THE LINES AND BASICALLY EVERYTHING SAID IN THIS SHOW ??? B R I L L I A N T.
I MEAN, THE SCRIPT IS INSANELY FASCINATING AND CLEVER AND ?? RELEVANT?? ALSO FUNNY??? I LAUGHED SO HARD I know you won’t believe me but I’m telling The Truth and screaming
• as I said, it is a bit violent and gory, but I guess it’s bearable? even for the most squeamish ones? anyway, it’s just a few scenes, promise
• remember when I mentioned the characters…? well. to say I was awe-struck would be a euphemism. Not to be dramatic, but I love them and will protect them with my life [especially one particular whip-wielding vampire hunter] just hear me out THEY ARE PRECIOUS AND FUNNY AND WELL-WRITTEN AND SO ??? REALISTIC ??? I’M DEAD. HONESTLY. CHAPEAU.
• okay now read even more carefully because this is very important: THE CAST IS EVERYTHING YOU HAVE ALWAYS DREAMED OF BUT NEVER THOUGHT YOU DESERVED.
Graham McTavish as Dracula will strike you dead and yOU WILL FUCKING PITY HIM AND HOPE HE KILLS EVERYONE IN THAT STUPID, BIGOTED COUNTRY AND YOU WON’T EVEN REALISE IT but then you’ll be introduced to the love of my life, the drunken, sassy star of the show: the exiled prince and vampire hunter Trevor Belmont. I promise, you will be like “Dracula whO??” (or that was just me, idk),
PLUS he’s voiced by Richard Armitage and I SWEAR TO GOD he’s a jewel, he’s so good at modulating his voice it hurts I should probably mention he’s also a fucking baritone and if *this* won’t make you scream “I NEED TO SEE THIS THINGY” with pure joy, I pity you.
You are missing out.
You are a bad person
I hope Trevor finds you and kicks your ass with his whip.
• seriously, all this show needs is a chance. ONE (1) CHANCE. That’s all. Just give it 25 minutes and it will blow your mind and you will end up like the rest of us, wondering how you even got into this mess and please, don’t look at me
• oh, Netflix confirmed season 2 on the day season 1 premiered and it received HUGE praises BOTH from the ignorant ones (hello, it’s me) who didn’t even know what they were doing AND from those who were already familiar or grew up with the original videogame (and cared about it) ((a lot)).
I can’t help it I’m in love with the idea of Reddie okay? This takes place when they’re juniors in high school, or 11th grade. I can’t help but base all their fics on songs from the 80s lmao I guess. I hope you like it!
The radio was loud. Eddie knew that if his mom was home she’d be having a conniption fit about the volume, screaming that he’d damage his ears. As if her shrill voice didn’t cause migraines, or constant nagging cause heartache. He shook his head, setting aside his Physics homework and cursing the fact that his junior year was so rough. High school was rough in general.
Eddie stood at 5’5” at 17 years old, and had hardly gained weight or grown more adult since he was 11. His cheeks still held the hint of softness like when he was younger, and most people took notice. The girls always called him cute, which he didn’t mind. It crossed the line when they asked to play with his hair since he’d grown it out a bit- not much but it was shaggy and unkempt more, to irritate his mom. It didn’t help that they said he’d be pretty in makeup, either. The boys were less friendly, calling him names and shoving him around or drawing angry, homophobic words into his locker.
He was broken from his slightly bitter thoughts when his favorite song came on. The Police- “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic”. While he didn’t know who this “she” was, and he didn’t care to have a girl of his own, the message still made his heart flutter because he did have someone he thought was magical. He’d rather die than admit it though. Not only was being queer a bit of a no-no in the small town, but the object of his affections was so ridiculous most people wouldn’t believe him even if he told them.
Regardless of the strange predicament this put him in, he couldn’t help but smile and sing loudly along, shimmying his shoulders and holding his prescription bottle like a microphone. His eyes squeezed shut tightly, he imagined he was on stage, belting out the slightly adjusted lyrics, serenading the other proudly, and making everyone jealous that they didn’t have a Richie of their own. He was ecstatic in his fantasy, throwing his whole being into this private world that no one would see.
So wrapped up in those vivid hazel eyes, the mop of brown hair that had subconsciously influenced him to grow out his own because it just looked so soft and effortlessly nonchalant and cool. He was breathless, not from his asthma but from the amount of sun kissed freckles that accented the boy’s sharp cheekbones. The only thing sharper was his tongue. Others couldn’t stand how often he cracked terrible jokes or blurted out innuendos, and while Eddie was considered the prim and proper of the group, and he acted like he was disgusted, every joke secretly made his heart swell because- well, Richie was just so damn funny.
Everything he said or thought or did had Eddie wanting to see more. He wanted to get inside his head, to know how and why Richie would do anything. He wanted to know his thought processes and his heart and to be close with him so he could share the world with him. As the song came to a close, he couldn’t help but feel a bit sad. While his jokes were funny, the amount of times he talked about… well… *girl parts* made Eddie think he couldn’t be anything but straight. However he did have a glimpse of hope because Richie also never shut up about how hot Eddie was or how much he liked making him blush. It was enough to keep him going, and to keep him going crazy. Lost in thought, when he turned to his window he shrieked.
There at his window was the object of his delicious suffering, the reason behind his whole performance. Richie was clinging to the windowsill smiling his famous grin. The grin that said “I know what you did.” Eddie clutched at his small chest, now embarrassed and angry because HOW LONG HAD HE BEEN THERE? He quickly stomped forward, yanking the window open, his angry face really just being used to hide his utter embarrassment and joy that Richie was there. Before he could open his mouth, Richie shoved past him and climbed in, taking his shoes off and making himself at home.
“Hey there, princess! Having fun?”
“Shut UP you freak! How long were you watching me!? Do I need to file a restraining order?” Eddie seethed, face growing redder by the second.
Richie only laughed. “Oh Eddie bear, you’re trying to tell me you don’t want me here? How strange, I could have sworn that song was for me!”
He stopped laughing when he saw Eddie’s eyes go wide with panic.
“H-how did you know!? It’s none of your business what I do anyways, you’re always so nosy I can’t-“
“Wait- how did I know? That WAS for me?”
Eddie stiffened up, quickly trying to back pedal. “N-NO YOU FREAK THAT WAS NOT!”
Richie laughed, “But you just told me so yourself, spaghetti head!”
Eddie’s hands where in fists, cheeks red and nostrils flaring. “FUCK YOU, TRASHMOUTH.”
“You’re so cute when you’re mad, you know that?” Richie was serious, a genuine smile on his face.
He stood up, towering over Eddie at an even and lanky six feet, and walked over to him, mussing up his hair. Eddie tried to slap his hands away and was shocked when the other grabbed both his arms and wrapped them around his waist. With that, he rested his chin on top of the shorter’s head, and Eddie felt a giggle reverberate in his chest against his cheek.
Richie busted out laughing when a meek “Fuck off, giant.” Was muffled against his tattered Ramones shirt.
“Hey c’mon Eddie. Look at me.”
Eddie looked up, and Richie noted with faint shock that the boy was teary eyed. “Hey- don’t cry. I’m just giving you a hard time because I’m kinda nervous, too.”
Eddie tilted his head to the side, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “You get nervous? And what are you even nervous about?”
Richie sighed, pulling back and ran a shaking hand through his hair. He went and sat on the edge of the bed, and his hands absentmindedly starting playing with the hem of his shirt. “Well, I actually came here for the same reason you were singing about me…”
Eddie stood still, his heartbeat in his ears. “W-what…? Richard Tozier I swear to god if this is some sick joke I’m going to gut you like a fish.”
“I’m not joking Eddie, and way to use the mom voice on me- my full name and everything!”
Eddie shakily walked over and sat next to the other, trembling hand reaching out and taking Richie’s. Shocked by his boldness, he laughed loud and long. “I’ve been in love with you since we were ten if I’m being honest.”
“WHAT!? That long…?” Eddie stared at Richie, a look of disbelief on his face.
“What can I say, Eddie? You’re mistaken. Every little thing YOU do is magic, not me.”
Eddie grabbed his face in response, and started laughing. “Shut up, Richie. I’ve been in love with you just as long.”
If you had looked up into Eddie Kaspbrak’s window at that moment, you would have seen a small boy who looked afraid of the world. And you would have seen that look vanish as his eyes took on a sparkle that made him look fearless. You would have seen his small hands cupping the face of a hooligan with a cigarette behind his ear, half hidden in an unruly tangle of curls. You would have seen that boy laughing, cheeks flustered and smile big. You wouldn’t have been able to see anything but Richie’s shoulders, as they shook slightly with giggles.
And you would have seen that small boy suddenly kiss the other in a brave and passionate act. The kind of kiss that makes a hopeless romantic’s hands shake at a movie theatre. The kind that poets write about but can never describe perfectly. You would have seen the kind of kiss that songs are made about, that people wish for in their dreams. It was a sloppy kind of kiss, frantic and bold and beautiful. The kind that would make angels jealous. Eddie kissed Richie in such a way that it looked like magic.
You all saw it coming, don’t deny it, lol. But, yeah, Richard is my favorite and has been for years now. I’ll have to say, tho, that the six of them are very important to me, make me happy and I can see pics or gifs of any of them and instantly it will cheer me up, and, honestly, I love the six of them to death. When I first saw them, Till was the one who caught my attention. I liked him a lot (I still do, a lot more than before) and would fangirl and show my friends pictures of him. Now, here’s a secret: I used to dislike Richard because I thought he was an asshole lol I swear to God I was like ‘what everyone sees in this jerk?’, but one day I just gave him a little bit more of attention and… Yeah, he got me. Now I’m all Richard, I can’t shut up about him, he’s my wallpaper, and all through the concert all I could do was stare at him and be like ‘goddamn look at how beautiful he is’. He’s my precious baby, I’ll fight you haha. (All of them are my precious babies, tho lol). Here’s the deal: I tend to think of them as a little family I’d be a part of, y’know? Till would be like a father, Ollie would be my precious son (dude I’ll protect him forever), Paul, of course, my older brother, Schneider would be my twin (I don’t look like him, yeah, but put the two of us together, we’d bring chaos lol) and Flake would be my favorite and extremely supportive uncle. But Richard I’d see more as a best friend, lol, someone to lean on and talk about random stuff. (He couldn’t be blood related also lol y’know why). I guess that’s it, I love all of them but Richard is my babyboy and will always be.
Richard Papen is so straight. The straightest. 100% heterosexual. Right up there with those stalwart exemplars of heterosexuality, Basil Hallward and Nick Carraway. Nothing remotely gay to see here, move along.
Deciding to watch Supernatural Panels on YouTube is like willingly sacrificing your entire day for complete nonsense. It’s always “One more” “Just one more” then the next thing you know you’ve got your face buried in a pillow at 3am laughing hysterically because someone thought it would be a good idea to list ‘Acting on Camera’ as one of their special skills on their resume.
“I can’t believe you have the hots for our mechanic.”
Steve folds his arms from where he’s leaning against the wall and glares at Bucky, leaning on the one opposite with a shit-eating grin. “I hardly think we can call him our mechanic, considering I’ve only seen him once – “
“And I didn’t even know you were going to him until three days ago.”
Bucky has the grace to look chagrined but doesn’t let it go. “You didn’t deny you have the hots for him.”
“I don’t have the hots for him. Tony’s just… He’s interesting.”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
Steve sighs and responds with a mature “shut up.”
Bucky does, for a minute, and they both keep an eye on the building across the street, waiting. But then, “you should ask him out.”
Steve has to consciously remind himself to keep his voice quiet. “Are you serious?”
“What’s the big deal? You think he’s hot, he thinks you’re hot – “
“You don’t know that.”
“He sure as hell didn’t flirt with me like that.”
“No, he just insulted you,” Steve scowls.
Bucky looks surprised. “Wait, what? You didn’t tell me that.”
Steve shifts and casts his eyes at the ground. “Sorry. Nothing, he just – I didn’t like what he called you.”
Bucky frowns, before his eyes widen. “Oh, you mean – “ of all things, Bucky laughs. “He called me Metal Arm Guy, didn’t he?”
“It was insensitive.”
Bucky’s still grinning, and Steve is reminded, yet again, of how infuriating his best friend can be. “Steve, no, it’s – look, the first time I saw him he got all fanboyish about the arm. Wouldn’t stop ranting about – the hydraulics or whatever, I don’t know. I don’t speak tech geek. But it was…” Bucky takes a deep breath, and he looks more serious when he continues, “it was kind of refreshing, actually. To not have someone tip toe around the damn thing.” The fingers of his metal hand flex like they often do when the topic is brought up. “It was sorta comforting.”
Suddenly Steve feels like a heel. He’s been as guilty of that as everyone else. The arm was a blessing, and Bucky had been lucky to get such an advanced prosthetic, but it’s still a reminder of what happened. Of what Bucky lost.
“Don’t go looking like that Stevie, I’m not… I’m not complaining, or whatever. I get it, believe me. But I just liked being treated like it was normal, for once.” Bucky shrugs, and his mouth ticks up at the sides. “I made a joke that he only liked me for my arm, and it became a thing. I don’t know.”
Steve can see it happening. It had only been a short meeting for him, but Tony certainly seems to have that easygoing nature that makes people relax. It had worked on him, after all.
“You’re thinking about him again.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not asking him out.”
“Why the hell not?”
“For one thing, I haven’t seen what he’s done to my bike yet. Besides…” He spreads his hands in a ‘what can you do’ gesture. “How’s that supposed to go? ‘Hey, I’m the Captain, I lead the Howling Commandoes, you might have heard of me, want to have lunch with a criminal?’”
Bucky has that look on his face that says Steve’s being ridiculous again. “You don’t have to tell him your life story. It’s just a date, you’re not asking him to marry you.” Steve’s scepticism must be showing on his face because Bucky sighs and continues “it’s not always do or die, Steve. You can try something casual. Hell, you should be trying casual. It’s been eight years since Peggy – “
“Buck – “ Steve’s voice is warning, but Bucky ploughs on.
“And she doesn’t have to be your one and only. You don’t have to spend the rest of your life mourning her.” Bucky’s voice has gone soft. “You know she wouldn’t want that.”
There’s lots of things Steve could say to that. That he knows Peggy wouldn’t want that, because Peggy was beautiful inside as well as out, and she only ever wanted the best for Steve, like he wanted the best for her, but life’s not a fucking fairy tale and it never works out that way –
But he’s saved from having to say any of that because his phone vibrates in his pocket, and it’s a text from Natasha.
Intel’s good. We can move in.
So instead, Steve just straightens his shoulders, ignores the exasperation on Bucky’s face, and says “time to go.”
The warehouse is poorly guarded. One of Mandarin’s greatest weaknesses is that he’s always underestimated his enemies. There are two men patrolling the premises, who Steve and Bucky dispatch quietly and efficiently, and Natasha’s already taken down the guards in the front room.
Together they head into the main storage area, where Sam and Clint are busting in through side entrances, and Steve lets the colder part of his brain take over when the firefight starts.
It’s short and bloody. Steve shoots one man in the kneecap, another right in the stomach, and puts a bullet right in a third’s chest when he turns his aim on Bucky.
All in all there are only six men. They don’t stand a chance against Steve’s team.
Natasha’s securing the ones left alive with zip-ties and Steve makes a beeline for one of the crates scattered about the room. Through years of working together he holds out a hand, knowing Sam is ready with a crowbar, and uses it to pry open the lid. He feels a sense of grim satisfaction when he finds exactly what he expected.
“That’s some heavy firepower,” Sam says. There looks to be at least 30 Tommy guns packed and ready for distribution. Just for a moment, Steve lets himself imagine the kind of carnage they could do on his streets, before he lets the lid fall shut with disgust.
“9mms in this one,” Clint calls from across the room. “Smith and Wessons, I’d say. That’s…” He lets out a low whistle, “that’s a shit load of money right there.”
It would have been, if the Mandarin had the chance to sell them on the streets like they knew he’d been planning. Instead, Steve will make sure they get shipped somewhere far away.
He isn’t out to stop the bloodshed. His only responsibility is keeping it out of their streets.
“Nice work,” he says. “Load up the truck. Let’s get out of here.”
Tony’s covered in grease and looking happy when Steve enters his garage the next day. “Steve!” He greets with a grin, wiping his hands ineffectually on a rag, “didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
Steve’s felt wrung out since the night before, like he always does after a job, but his answering smile is real. “Wanted to make sure you weren’t mutilating my bike.”
Tony brings a hand to his chest dramatically. “Are you saying you don’t trust me?”
“I take threats very seriously,” he says, deadpan.
“Well, I can assure you your bike is doing just fine.” Tony nods towards her in invitation and they both make their way over to the Harley Davidson. She’s certainly looking no worse for wear. In fact… “Did you polish her?”
Tony grins. “I got bored. Have I mentioned how adorable it is that you consistently refer to the thing as a woman?”
“I think lady is more appropriate,” Steve responds, simply because he knows it will make Tony laugh. “And if you’re bored, have you considered, you know. Fixing her?”
Tony waves a hand beatifically. “I already found the problem. Frankly I’m disappointed you didn’t figure it out yourself.” He waits for Steve to rise to the bait, but when all he does is look at Tony expectantly, he continues, “it needs a new needle jet. Yours has been worn down to the wick. I’ve already ordered the part, just waiting for it to arrive.”
Steve can’t help it – he breathes a sigh of relief. Some pessimistic part of him had been worried he might have to say goodbye to the girl. “That’s great,” he says emphatically.
“You really love this thing, huh?” Tony’s studying him, and Steve resists the urge to stand up straighter.
“Doesn’t hurt to be a little sentimental.”
Tony raises an eyebrow. “Sure.”
“What, you’ve never had a car you’ve been attached to?”
Tony’s eyes flick towards a back door and says “maybe not a car. But I see your point.”
Steve takes a moment to study Tony. He drinks in Tony’s ruffled hair, the stubble on his chin, watches the way his fingers drum against his chest as he seems lost in thought. The man really is quite…
He probably wouldn’t like hearing a guy he barely knows call him beautiful.
Tony snaps out of whatever daze he found himself in and smiles at Steve, a softer thing than before. “The needle should be here in another day or so, if you want to pick it – her,” he teases, “up then.”
Steve nods, distracted by the earthy brown of the mechanic’s eyes, and thinks back on Bucky’s words. It doesn’t have to be some big thing. They could just go on one date, have a bit of fun, see where things go. No big deal, according to everyone and every show on TV these days.
For the first time, Steve finds himself considering it.
But then Happy is opening the reception door, saying “Boss, Reed’s here,” and the moment is broken.
Tony heaves an exasperated sigh and immediately starts ranting. “Fucking Richards, what has he gone and done now? I swear to god, whoever gave him his license better have gotten a great goddamn bribe because the man has never heard of a clutch – “
“I’d better go,” Steve cuts in. “Thanks for your help, Tony.”
Tony gives him another smile. “Hey, it’s your money. I’ll see you in a couple of days, yeah?”
Steve nods. “Yeah.”
He’s already looking forward to it.