#HE GETS ALL THE SWEARS IN THE COMIC (BESIDES DUKE THAT ONE TIME) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toosicktoocare · 3 years

Text

Okay, I’m very much obsessed with the web comic “Batman: Wayne Family Adventures,” and I want to write little one-shots for it.

If you’d like to see something written, drop a prompt in my inbox!

Also found on AO3!

1: Better Than Dick Grayson

Jason’s beat by the time he guides his bike through an underground entrance to the Bat Cave. Patrol wasn’t hard – more annoying than anything else. There’s been an increase in copy-cat villains lurking the shadows of Crime Alley, all who can’t even follow through with a napkin-scribbled plan properly.

“Nice work tonight, Hood.”

Jason slips off his bike, boots heavy against the steel floor below him. He taps the comm nestled in his ear. “Thanks, O. Time to sign off? I’m sure you have an absolutely riveting day at the library tomorrow.” A cheeky smile plays at his lips as he slips his helmet off, huffing around a laugh at Barbara’s drawn-out sigh in his ear.

“I honestly don’t know why I help you every night.”

“Come on, O. You know you look forward to our quick-witted banter every day. That’s our thing – our trademark, if you will.” His smile widens when Barbara chuckles in his ear.

“You’re ridiculous, Hood.”

Jason slips into a changing room, grimacing as he cards his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. “Please, O. You know you love me.” His suit is damp against him, an uncomfortable testament to just how much he’s done on patrol in the few hours he was out.

“Maybe a little.”

Smirking, he shrugs his jacket off and reaches to the back of his neck, working his damp suit off until it’s hanging low at his waist. “You flirting with me, Babs? I’ll tattle to Dick.” He barks out a laugh at the low, impressive string of curse words that echo from his comm.

“I retract my previous statement. My tolerable feelings toward you stem from obligation alone.”

“Babs,” Jason whines, slamming a hand to his chest, “you wound me! Now I’m really going to tell Dick!”

“Well, you’re out of luck. He left for Bludhaven an hour ago.”

Jason pushes down on his suit until he’s stepping out of it, kicking it to the corner of the changing room with the notion that he’ll deal with it later. Tomorrow. He sighs – eventually.

“Detective Grayson summoned for an assignment?” He turns on his heel, snagging a towel that he drapes over his shoulders, using one corner to mop the sweat dripping from his hair.

“Something like that.”

Barbara’s voice goes soft on the other line, and Jason stops, frowning smally. “What’s up, Babs?”

“Damian and Bruce are still out, so I need to get back to them. Can you check in on Tim for me? Steph said he’s been quieter than usual all day.”

“Pump the kid up with coffee, then? I can do that.”

“Jason.”

Jason holds his hand’s up in mock defense out of habit, sighing between his teeth. “Fine, yes. I’ll follow in golden child Dick’s footsteps and take my role as the dutiful big brother.”

“Good. Also, I have that on recording now for the next time you try to sarcastically remove yourself from a family affair.”

“Barbara!”

“Later, Jason!”

There’s a crackle in Jason’s ear, and then the line goes dead. Rolling his eyes, he pulls the comm free, dropping it beside a large monitor in the cave before padding upstairs, eager to shower Crime Alley’s discount villains away.

He swings by Tim’s room first, finding him at his desk, eyes soft and cast toward the window. His expression is somber albeit a tad thoughtful, and Jason promptly pulls him out of whatever muted stupor he’s currently lost in.

“Well,” he starts, nudging the door open wider, eyes flicking to the textbook open at the desk. “You’re doing better than I did. Studying wasn’t really my forte.”

Tim twists around and cocks his head to the side. “You were a straight-A student.”

Scoffing, Jason drops against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Hey. I didn’t say I wasn’t smart.” He nods to the book. “And you’re essentially a boy genius, so do you really need to do that?”

“It’s a good distraction,” Tim sighs, turning back to the window and dropping his cheek against his fist.

“A distraction from what?” Jason’s eyes narrow into sharp slits, watching a small line of tension take to Tim’s shoulders.

“Dick left.”

Jason’s taken aback. Dick comes and goes all the time – they all do. He can’t imagine Tim will be here long, and he, himself, is only staying the night before he heads back to the safe house he’s been frequenting by himself in the morning. Now that he thinks of it, he’s sure he overheard Steph mentioning packing for a trip with Barbara in a few days.

“He’ll come back,” Jason responds, and Tim spins around in his desk chair with a sigh that’s far too long and heavy for a kid his age.

“I know that. It’s just,” Tim pauses, waving one hand around, “too quiet without him here.”

“That’s a bad thing?” Jason cocks a brow, and Tim huffs.

“You know what I mean – Dick’s all energy and smiles, and everything just feels better when he’s here. When we’re all here together.”

This, Jason thinks, is edging a delicate territory he’s not adept to handle. His vocabulary rivals Alfred’s, and yet, piecing together words into a sentence that’s both optimistic and comforting is not something he feels he’s capable of. Instead, he steps into the room, dropping his palm to Tim’s head, and the silence that follows is sharper than Bruce’s best batarang.

“Jason,” Tim finally mutters, voice flat.

“Is this comforting?”

“No, it’s weird.”

Jason rips his hand away, a sigh of relief slipping past his lips. “Well, that’s one thing we can agree on.” He turns toward the door, muscles faintly aching, his reminder that he really wants to shower and sleep. “Night, Timmy. Dick will come back soon.”

He opts not to look behind him lest he wants to feel a big-brother spark of guilt he’s just too exhausted to handle. Instead, he slips out of the room without so much of an over-the-shoulder glance.

---

Jason’s alarm starts softly from his phone, and he slams his hand against it with a low groan, trained to wake at the quietest of sounds. Outside, the sun’s not quite made it up and over the horizon, still casting the manor in a soft glow – a view that Dick swears by. Jason shuffles over to his window and takes in the view for roughly four seconds before he decides he’d rather see it through the visor of his bike’s helmet.

Still, before he can leave, he’s got one more thing he needs to do at the manor – a rather brilliant idea, if you ask him, he came up with in a sleep-ridden mind right before he conked out for the night.

He’s not Dick. He’s better than Dick.

He changes and perks an ear to the sounds down the hall, hearing the others waking. Once he hears Tim’s bedroom Keurig stop running, he acts, plastering a triple-watt smile to his face and storming out of his room.

“Ugh, Jason,” Cass mutters, rubbing her eyes. “What are you doing?”

Jason doesn’t respond, waiting, instead, for Tim to open his bedroom door, and the moment he does, Jason sucks in a long, swelling breath.

“Good morning!” He shouts, dragging out each word, making his voice as loud as possible, a bright bellow that sinks into every crevice of the manor.

Beside him, Cass cups both hands over her ears, and Damian merely turns back into his room, slamming the door behind him. Duke can’t get to his phone fast enough, and Tim promptly jumps out of his skin, his coffee splashing from his mug to burn against his hand and stain the floor. There are footsteps pounding up the stairs, and Jason smiles even wider, his cheeks stretched and tight, and he sucks in another large breath.

“Jason, what the hell—”

Jason cartwheels down the hall, narrowly avoiding a puddle of coffee to stop upright before Tim. He ruffles Tim’s hair, his forced smile fading to something softer, more genuine. “Morning, Timmers!”

“What in the world is going on?”

Bruce is breathless at the end of the hall, and Alfred’s trying, and horribly failing, to hide a laugh behind a cough.

“I’m telling my family good morning,” Jason shouts, arms outstretched. He offers Tim a wink and leans in close. “Grayson’s got nothing on me,” he whispers, tone devious, before he presses a kiss to Tim’s cheek and claps a hand to Tim’s shoulder.

When he pulls away, he slips past Bruce and Alfred, maneuvering around them with a practiced grace that could rival Dick Grayson. “Something smells incredible down here!” He adds from the stairs.

“Oh, Dick’s going to love this,” Duke mutters, ending the video recording on his phone.

“Should I call Leslie?” Bruce asks, worried, his attention torn between the startled and amused faces before him, and the echoing sound of Jason singing Broadway showtunes from the kitchen downstairs.

Tim looks down to his coffee mug, his hand faintly burning and sticky, and he smiles warmly. “Nah, Jason’s fine.”

#batman #dc #batman wayne family adventures #fanfic #batfam #batfamily #my writing #my batman writing #jason todd #Tim Drake #barbara gordon #bruce wayne #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #Alfred Pennyworth

140 notes · View notes

woahajimes · 3 years

Note

How do you picture all of the bat boys? Like do they all have black hair and blue eyes to you? Also, what are your thoughts on Jason having red hair but dying it?

Hey luv <3 You are a literal deity for sending me this ask, just know that.

- Dick has brown hair, yet a brown so that you think it’s black, but in the sunlight, it looks a very deep shade of brown. You won’t notice unless you’re looking for that specifically. His skin tone to me will always be like this tone, perhaps a little lighter (honestly don’t @ me because i keep reading comics and dick is literally white so my brain just did that thing in which it lets itself be lied to), and he’s been whitewashed for literally 80 years but i stick hard to my idea. His eyes are blue, just blue. Not like... specks of white or green or anything like that. They’re just a blue that he really isn’t conscious of, but it’s also a specific shade of blue (this up to your own imagination), yet not enough so you can name it, but enough so you can recognize it. Anywhere. To me, Dick has dimples. I just know this. Also vvv nice eyebrows and eyelashes. I would literally sell my soul to have Dick’s eyelashes.

- I still can’t decide on Jason. I just can’t do it. On one side, there’s blond jason todd that was also from the circus or something like that, and he’s from the 80s and pre-crisis (whatever that means) and a writer admitted that he forgot that jason’s hair color so really this is a whole mess. And Red-haired Jason is a gorgeous idea! But if anything were to be, I’d say that Jason has red hair, but it tilts more into the auburn side. Like bart’s hair color, but a bit more red. Yet I canon Jason with naturally black hair, this literally black and pitch black over and over, perhaps once brown then dyed???? and then maybe with the lazarus something happened and... I don’t know. Honestly. But Jason with black hair is what I lean onto, so that.

There’s also the white strip of hair. At first I was thinking it came from stress, because it happens, but then everyone went with lazarus and stuff, so i just shut up. And honestly the white strip i headcanon it to be really faint at first, like whatever happened in the lazarus, and jason used to be super self-conscious about it, because people would look at him like just one more freak that came back from the dead (don’t ask me who becaus i won’t know what to tell you). So he was on his way to get hair dye (the confectionery’s store iykyk), to cover it up, and he was checking out the things, with the hood of his jacket covering it up, and the girl behind the counter, probably the daughter of the owner, or someone (she didn’t look a day beyond 13), she made this comment on how cool Jason’s hair was and why he didn’t accentutate it more (with bleach). And this lifted Jason’s spirit, so he go the bleach, even though he just assumed that the girl was making propaganda for the bleach (which cost more than the hair dye). So anyways, that’s my headcanon on the white strip of hair, and I just think that the little comment that made him change his mind, just changed a lot of things for him, and with accentuating the white strip of hair, Jason started accepting who he was and stuff.

His eyes (to me) will be blue. I have this headcanon in which pre-death, Jason had birth marks and moles, his lips parted when he relaxed, his nose lost the delicate shape it used to have. He had a mole (as i just mentioned) right above his lip, on the left side, and he had more across his back and shoulders. He had birthmarks (one on his thumb and another in his inner thigh), and multiple scars across his body. But these scars are completely and utterly... domestic. Toying around with the stapler, stapling both his fingers together at age 4, falling off the bike at age 6, a dog bite in the right ear (he also had cigarette burns in his arms, in the back of his neck as well, but that’s something for another day). Although his eyes. His eyes aren’t what they used to be. They were always blue, and they still are, but it’s a different blue. Before the j*ker happened, Jason’s eyes were a speckless blue, an innocent one. And then they turned a dark blue, and I don’t wanna say what everyone says, but jason having specks of green (and white) in the originally blue irises of his eyes is just a really cool concept. The green, of course, for the connective tissues and muscle fibers that the lazarus was able to stitch up. The white for the ones that the lazarus wasn’t able to complete (for whatever reason). They were just left blank. Note that you can’t see it, not unless you’re paying ridiculously close attention to Jason’s eyes.

- Tim Drake is pretty. That’s all. In my head, he will always have freckles. Always. Not like freckles, freckles, not by like genetics or anything, but by the sun. Tim Drake (as all the batboys, but they don’t have freckles, except for Dick when i feel like it) spends a lot of time under the sun. I know there’s the whole idea of fandom in which he’s ‘dead inside’ and has huuuge bags under his eyes and barely sleeps and always spends time inside with his laptop and drinking coffee. And I mean, sure, Tim Drake might get little sleep, but he also screams off he vibes of a guy that is really hyper when with friends, but in a more subtle way. Tim Drake is just... i mean he’s like that. I don’t picture him as closed off, or monotonic. So he probably, yes, stays up all day and all night, gets like three hours worth of sleep, and then just vibes and goofs (when with friends) all day long. He is this professional hoe but that’s for another day.

His hair’s got the middle part going on, which used to be short, then grew and that was that. He didn’t bother to cut it, only to realize that he actually liked it like that. When he showers, it’s like... to his chin. The front strands. You know what i mean?

His eyes are an icy blue. All blue, not specks of anything. But it’s a light blue, and from far it looks grayish.

Tim also has beautiful eyelashes write that down.

- I’ll have to admit, I don’t think often about Damian’s appereance. The thing i have thought about most are his eyes. Like.... They’re green, but the only explanation to that is the lazarus (now, i know that there are versions of talia in which her eyes are green, and yeah that could come from anywhere in the family tree, but i’ll stick with brown because i’ve seen it mostly in brown so). And you’re probably tired of hearing me talk about the lazarus, but i have this headcanon in which, you know, Talia’s been in the lazarus so many times, and that affected her bloodstream, or something like that, and that came into play when Damian was born. But his eyes were still brown, but he had the connective tissues and muscle fibers and everything else that makes the iris, and the first time that Damian came into contact with the waters of the lazarus, they... activated, per se. And his eyes were green, time by time that he came in contact with such. And besides that, I swear to you that i haven’t thought about much else.

I wanted to write this part on duke, but then i realized that i don’t know that much on him, and as im learning, I’m just exploring the canon facts of his character, and haven’t actually given much thoughts onto other aspects, so if you guys have any headcanons about duke’s appereance (or any other batboys’, really), feel totally free to share them!

#duke thomas #dick grayson #damian wayne #robin #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #robin ii #robin iii #i wrote so much on jason omg sorry #send me an ask!#anonymous #tim drake #red robin

97 notes · View notes

evil-giggling · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Creativitwins

Romantic/Platonic

Triggerwarnings: Roman Angst, Unsympathetic!King, Swearing, Intrusive Thoughts

–––———

Days passed since Deceit had earned the Light Sides' trust, with Roman still being an exception. The prince knew Janus wasn't stupid–the snake felt his distrust, saw behind his faux friendly smiles, and noticed the subtle venom in the nicknames Roman gave him. And strangely, Roman was aware of this, though he could not care less. Let that slippery fiend do whatever he wanted with that information.

But, Roman was getting tired of everything. He couldn't keep on pretending like this–he was barely even needed in recent videos. It was always Janus in the spotlight–it made Roman feel like a disposable comic relief, but the Prince figured it was fine. He was, after all, still Thomas' hero.

Right?

He sighed at the thought, dropping it as fast as he picked it up. It was enough that it was obvious he was barely wanted in the videos, he didn't need this for the final nail in the coffin that secured his self-hatred. All he needed to focus on was to be as useful as he was allowed to be.

Yes, he needed to make the others proud. Needed to make Thomas proud.

He stood at his door, preparing himself for another video. He ran his hands through his hair, tending to it to make it look like he wasn't laying down for hours, contemplating his worth to Thomas. He took one deep breath, and adorned his face with a practiced smile, and opened the door.

He stayed there, in the darkness, as he was stunned. They already started – no, they sounded like they were almost through in solving the dilemma. He suddenly lost all energy to participate in the video, especially when he felt another Side taking his spot, and from the way he spoke, Roman could tell who he was. The prince scoffed, crossing his arms.

It was unbelievable. He was already shoved in the very back, waiting in the wings for his time to shine, that deep inside he knew would never come, and now the Scooby-Doo villain was taking his spot? He wouldn't have it. Roman prepared himself to pop up, and when he finally did, he wished he hadn't.

"You're our hero, Jan," Thomas said brightly, his eyes widening as he saw the better half of his Creativity appear, "er, hi Roman." he greeted, his posture tensed awkwardly.

The other sides stared at him, and he saw the expression in their eyes as clear as day. Virgil looked anxious–of course, when is he not? Patton looked unbearably guilty, so much that Roman couldn't look at him for long. Logan looked aloof, but there was a sympathetic glint in his eyes, as he looked like he was preparing to say something to fix this new faced dilemma.

And Janus. Janus was proud of himself, Roman could tell, but he seemed to still want Roman on his side.

Roman turned away from them, and uncomfortable silence hung in the air. He forgot that he was in front of a camera for a moment, and looked up, an unexplainable look in his eyes, his face as hard as stone.

"Well, Thomas, it seems like I was interrupting something," Roman uttered, a spiteful tone laced in his voice, "like I do everyday, so really, it's nothing new. Still, I apologize."

Patton looked broken, his face soft and tears already in his eyes, "kiddo, no, you didn't interrupt anything! Right guys?"

A beat, and then Logan spoke up, "what Patton said was true, Roman. There's no need to feel guilty, you are still needed on the table, there's no need to over dramatize–" Logan stopped, when Virgil sent him a sharp glare.

"Nice, specs, that definitely helped–" Virgil said spitefully, but was caught off by Roman.

"No, Virgil. He was right. There's no need to be over dramatic, but that really is just how I am," spoke Roman, his voice lifting into a pathetic version of his usually booming voice, "so I'll just see myself out, before I make a bigger mess of things, yeah?"

Patton looked like he was about to cry, and Janus gave him a look of concern, "kiddo, no, it's not healthy to keep things to yourself. I learned that the hard way. We can talk about it kiddo, I promise we'll listen–"

Roman let in a sharp breath, and let out a cruel laugh, full of pent up hurt from how many times he was dismissed and ignored, "yeah, you showed me how much you all could listen to me in the last days."

That shut Patton up, as he hung his head in guilt. Janus sent Roman a sympathetic gaze, "I know we've never seen eye to eye Roman, but I'd be glad to help you with this, it's been eating you up lately–"

"Yeah," Roman breathed out a laugh, "you noticed, and said nothing. Don't tell me you care now."

Janus paused, before opening his mouth to say something, but Virgil spoke up before he could get a word out.

"Janus, you're not helping, just let us–"

"Wow, first name basis now, Virge?" Roman said, and he shook his head, "what am I doing? You all don't care."

"Ro, don't. You're taking this too far, let's just talk about it–"

"Taking this too far? Me!?" Roman exclaimed, and Virgil flinched. The prince bit his lip, but didn't back down, "you don't want to concern yourself with me, I'd say you all are the ones that are blowing this out of proportion–"

"Roman, calm down–" Logan said softly, "fighting isn't going to solve any of your problems–"

"My only problem is myself. So let me handle it." Roman gritted out, crossing his arms.

"Ro, come on, let us help you, we'll listen this time–" Thomas said, before Roman let out a loud laugh.

"No. If I'm no use to you, I don't matter. I don't deserve your help."

Thomas' face fell, "Ro–"

But he never got to finish what he was going to say, as Roman sinked down without warning, the hurt in his eyes never leaving.

Darkness. He shouldn't stay here, they'll find him easily, but he couldn't go back to his room, as that was their obvious destination. But then, he snorted, they probably won't even care enough to look for him.

Regardless, he still wanted to make sure they wouldn't spot him easily. So, he went to the last place they expected him to be.

To Remus' Room.

It's been a while since he last visited his brother, so he had trouble focusing on the things so he could get there. But in the end, he did, and for a while, there was nothing but silence.

"Ooh~ it's the Prince of Prude!" Remus cackled, "to what do I owe the displeasure?" the Duke bowed mockingly, a demented grin on his features.

"I just wanted to get away, there's no need to be cruel, brother." Roman said, his posture softening, as he sat on the couch, ignoring the disgusting smell, and the mysterious wet stains.

Remus raised a brow, his grin dropping into a frown, "get away?" then he looked around, and his brows raised in comprehension, and something clicked in his eyes, "trouble in paradise, huh?"

Roman scoffed, crossing his arms, "paradise would be too much of a kind word for it."

A silence hung between the two brothers, and Remus shifted uncomfortably. He had no idea what to do, and Roman could tell that. His brother wasn't the most comforting side, and kindness wasn't his forte. Roman opened his mouth, about to bid his farewell, when Remus smirked up at him.

"Brother, would you care for a duel?" the Duke said, summoning up Roman's sword and throwing it to him. Roman caught it easily, his features softening, as he realized this was Remus' way of comforting him. He let a small smile grace his features, which turned into a smirk, as he looked up at his brother.

"You better prepare your white flag, brother, you'll be waving it as soon as we start." Roman said smugly, standing up as the room around them shifted, and they were now in the dark parts of the Imagination.

Remus cackled, a demented smile once again adorned his face, "the only thing I will be waving is your decapitated head on a stick in front of your weeping fragments, brother!" Remus said, waving his Morningstar threateningly at Roman.

"Is that a challenge, brother!?" Roman cried, lifting his sword up in front of him, a carefree and true smile on his face, for the first time in a while.

"No, it's a promise, Prince Bubble-bum!"

Roman laughed, exclaiming "en garde!" and he surged forward, going for the attack swiftly, but Remus was just as fast with his defense, pushing Roman back, with the intent of making him fall over, but Roman was determined to stay upright, and he retaliated quickly.

They went at this for what seemed like hours, neither backing down, as frustration built up inside them was expressed in their duel.

As Remus was being shoved down by Roman with his sword, he asked, "so, why are you so upset, princey?"

Roman raised a brow, thinking this was some tactic to distract him, but saw no motive like that in his eyes. There was curiosity, andthe slightest bit of concern, and the prince sighed, "it's nothing big." Roman faltered, and Remus took the opportunity, albeit with a hint of hesitancy, to twist the situation around. He didn't give up on the question though.

"Come on, Roman. I'm not exactly your usual company, you hate me, remember?" Remus scoffed, and Roman looked at him in pure confusion. He dropped his guard, and Remus followed suit.

Remus rolled his eyes, "don't give me that look, you royal fucktard. What went up your ass that made you suddenly want my company?"

It was now Roman's turn to roll his eyes, but he was, admittedly, surprised at the hurt tone in his brother's voice, "when I said I hate you, I meant it in a brotherly way." he sat down on a patch of dead grass, running his hand along his hair in frustration.

Remus raised a brow, sitting beside him, "really? Even if I'm the reflection you see in a funhouse mirror that shows you everything you hate about yourself?"

Roman shook his head, "I said everything I don't want to be, Remus. I've never hated you, only the things you do to the others, and how you affect Thomas... But I know you can't help it. It's too much of a cruel thing to pin against you."

Remus furrowed his brows at him, then let out a sigh.

"I was there."

Roman looked at Remus with a raised brow.

"On that day, when Janus told you you were almost exactly like me," Remus huffed, a cruel grin on his face as he set his head on his raised knees, "I know I shouldn't have been so hurt, it shouldn't have bothered me so much. That was my role wasn't it? To be the evil one? But... You looked so disappointed, and upset, being compared to me. And it hurt like a bitch, you know. To know that even your brother doesn't fucking like who you are."

There was a beat of silence, when little sniffles emerged from Remus' lips. Roman frowned, when Remus spoke, "what's worse, is that Jan has been spending more time with his precious little Light Sides than me. I mean, can't exactly blame him, right?" he chuckled darkly, "I'm just some freak that eats deodorant. Who'd want to spend time with a mistake like me?"

Roman's frown deepened, with a spark of renewed hatred for the snake-like Side. Was singling out Roman not enough, now he had to abandon his brother, too?

Remus raised his head, looking at Roman, as he felt a comforting hand on his back, "I'm sorry... That I ever let you believe I hate you. You're a good brother, even if you don't see it. Even if you won't accept it," Roman added, chuckling at the look of disbelief in Remus' eyes, replacing his usual vivdly crazy irises, "from now on... I won't be abandoning you anymore."

Remus let out a surprised noise, as he was suddenly engulfed in a warm hug. He fought tears, still unbelieving of his situation, as he hugged his brother back with hesitancy.

"I'll always be here, from now on, brother." Roman said, and suddenly, a bright light engulfed the both of them.

And when it faded, there was only one person standing.

"Roman? Kiddo, are you here?" a scared Patton said, followed by a sharp gasp, as he stared at the Side before him.

"Patton? What's wrong–?" Janus followed the Moral side's eyes, and his own widened.

The others stared in awe, as the fusion of Remus and Roman stood, in all his elegancy and pride, a smirk on his features.

"Guys... Who is that?" Thomas asked, his voice shaky, "whe-where are Roman and Remus? Guys?"

Virgil gulped, his eyes blown in panic, as he said, "i-it's the King..."

The King smirked, as he tilted his head in mock to the Sides. Logan was too shocked to speak, Patton looked terrified out of his mind, Virgil looked anxious–no, paranoid, Thomas looked confused as ever.

And Janus?

Janus looked like he didn't know what to do.

It pleased the King to no end.

"Hello, my loyal subjects," The King drawled out, "my name is Icarus," he smirked, snapping his fingers, and the ground shook beneath them, and they were suddenly in a grand castle of different hues of green, red, and orange, matching his attire, with Icarus sitting on the large throne. He was the fusion of two brothers' anger, hatred, loneliness and sadness—it was clear in his threatening heterochromic eyes.

Roman and Remus, rest, the King thought, your Highness will take care of everything, I swear to you.

With that final promise, he eyed the Sides with malicious glee, and finished,

"your King."

#roman sanders #roman sanders angst #remus sanders #intrusive thot #sanders sides #inspiration: queen of mean #creativitwins #the king #janus sanders #unsympathetic!king #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #post-pof

57 notes · View notes

danni-whatshername · 5 years

Text

cut your teeth // chapter 1

It’s said that everyone in Starklake knows a missing person. For the last decade, the small town has been plagued by disappearances and sparked its own satanic panic. Through the combined efforts of the police and tourism departments the general public is none the wiser. In fact, the nearby beach is perfect for bonfires and camp outs...

Chapter 1 Almost two years after that fateful homecoming night, the survivors of the Westchester attack come together for their first annual camping trip.

Word Count: 2.1k

Note: The leaves emoji links to accompanying Choices music. I decided to use 2nd person POV to simulate the experience of playing the app in a sense. I’d love constructive feedback and any comments! Strap yourselves in for a wild ride of a mystery.

Tags (For this first chapter I’m basically considering this a thank you/dedication for good pals! 💝): @brightpinkpeppercorn @strangerofbraidwood @jesusofnazario @itlivesinthegays @lady-kato

[ 🍃🍃🍃]

It starts the same way every time. Somewhere deep down you know it’s not real, but you don’t have a chance to stop it. You feel as though you’ve been walking for miles. Every step sends a dull ache up your legs, but there’s nowhere to stop and rest. Besides that, you’ve felt it coming closer and closer the whole time. You heard from one of your professors that the reason cavemen survived was their sheer ability to endure the hunt. Where wild beasts tired after a sprint, humans could track for hours. Which is how you know what follows must be human—a beast would have taken you out long ago.

Tall pines surround you and every step feels agonizingly slow and heavy. You finally consider just collapsing onto the ground when you hear it. Telltale whispers that feel as though they’re coming from all directions at once. They are growing louder and louder despite your efforts to escape them. The edges of your vision grow dark as a shadow begins to envelop you. You feel a sharp blow to the side of your head—

[ 🍃🍃🍃]

“Whoa!”

Your eyes jolt open as a hard smack against the car window shakes you from your nightmare.

“Sorry. The potholes here are crazy,” Andy says and casts a worried glance at you. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Ouch,” you say as you rub the already growing bump on the side of your head.

Andy’s focus is back on the road as he attempts to avoid any more potholes. The road stretches on for miles ahead and is flanked by tall pines. Unlike the ones in your dream, the morning sun makes these look almost friendly.

“I know what’ll make you feel better,” he says.

“A kiss?” you tease as the fog of your nap wears off.

“I was gonna say picking up some snacks at the gas station, but if you insist on a kiss…”

“Oh I definitely do,” you say as you lean over.

“I could go for some snacks,” Tom pipes up from the backseat.

“Ah!” you jump in your seat, “I totally forgot you were riding with us,” you turn to look back at Tom who has the whole backseat to himself.

“Oof. Straight shot to the ego,” Tom winces and cutches his chest.

“Hey! You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Don’t worry about it, Katya.,” he laughs, “I’m just stoked you guys decided to invite me to your camping trip.”

“What? C’mon, man. Of course we’d invite you,” Andy grins at Tom through the rearview mirror.

“And it’s not just a camping trip. It’s the first annual Westchester Badass Club camping trip.” You turn back to Tom and make jazz hands.

“Please tell me you don’t actually call yourselves that.”

“I named our group chat that, so it’s basically the same thing,” you nod resolutely.

“I’m just excited to see everyone again. Everyone’s out doing their own thing now, so other than you two I barely see anyone.” Andy frowns and you notice him drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to coordinate eight people’s schedules after you graduate high school.” You groan and feel the bump on your head throb just from remembering the constant rescheduling, following up, and organizing it took to even make one trip happen. Now with Andy finally graduated from his senior year, a summer camping trip sounded like the perfect activity to bring everyone together. Luckily group chats and Pictstagram made keeping in touch with everyone a lot easier.

“The last time we were all really together was at the memorial,” Andy says.

“Gosh, that’s coming up again soon too,” you frown and think back to the nightmare you had earlier.

“It’s in a few months. Do you think you’ll give another speech?” Tom asks.

“I hope not. There’s not much left to say. At least as far as the rest of Westchester is concerned.” You shift uncomfortably at the memory of your nightmare and the similarities it shared with the events that had taken place. “Anyways… this campground seemed nice online. Bonus points for being close enough to town that we won’t be totally screwed once we realize we forgot to bring something important.” You change the subject and hope it’ll stick.

“So… how much longer ’til we get there?”

You pick your phone up out of the cupholder and pull up the GPS app.

“Five hours.”

Tom whistles and leans back into his seat.

“Geez. Guess I’ll make myself comfy back here then."

“Are you gonna be okay driving so long?” you ask Andy. Your gaze naturally drifts over to his left leg. Despite Andy’s assurances to everyone (including the college recruiters) that his leg was doing better, you know enough to see that he still has his bad days.

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” Andy teases, “I’m doing fine. Really. Besides, what’s the point of getting a car if I’m not gonna take it out for a road trip or two?” he pats the dashboard.

“Alright. But if you need a break let us know.” You point between Tom and yourself.

“Seriously, dude. And we promise we won’t crash it or anything.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m going Dukes of Hazard on it the moment I get on the wheel.”

The next stretch of road is punctuated by singing along to old school hip hop (‘Can they even say that on the radio?!’), games of I Spy (‘Ok… I spy something green.’), and debates on the finer points of who really controls the music on a road trip (‘I have girlfriend and front seat privileges.’ ‘Oh yeah? Well I have seniority in how long I’ve been friends with the driver.’ ‘Neither of you has good taste in music.’).

———

Some time after crossing the Oregon-California border you decide to make your final stop.

Apart from the gas station and a tire shop, there isn’t much to see. The woods are far sparser and you swear you can smell the sea, but it’s definitely just in your head.

The three of you pile out of the car and stretch your legs. You swipe your card at the pump to pay and Tom heads into the gas station to pick up some final snacks.

As the number on the pump’s display slowly creep up you realize Andy hasn’t said anything yet. You turn to see him leaning against the hood and experimentally kicking his leg in and out. He stops when he notices you watching.

“Hey.” He grins innocently.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” you cross your arms, “You should have said something earlier if you weren’t feeling good.”

You’ve gone through the same conversation at least a dozen times before.

“I know, but if I can’t make it through one road trip…”

“Andy, you need to stop making up these arbitrary rules for yourself.” The two of you pause for a moment in awkward silence before you speak. You clear your throat and drop your voice to a comically low baritone. “Alright, Kang. I’m benching you for the rest of this car trip. You’re riding in the passenger seat ’til we get to the beach.”

The two of you break out into laughter.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“You mean you aren’t impressed with my vast knowledge of sports lingo?”

“If I close my eyes it’s like I’m really on the court.”

You finish filling up the car and settle into the driver’s seat. Not long after, Tom finally emerges from the gas station. His pace is hurried and when he finally gets in you notice his worried expression.

“Hey. You alright, man?” Andy leans his seat back and looks over to Tom.

“Yeah. The attendant just said some weird stuff after I mentioned where we were going,” he says.

“Gas station employees are either really cool or total weirdos. I wouldn’t worry about it,” you reassure him as you pull out and back onto the road.

“Spoken like a true horror movie victim, Katya,” Andy says.

“Shut up!” You laugh and playfully punch him on the arm. “I refuse to be a cheesy teen movie. I read Google reviews for this place. If a bunch of old white people say it’s fine, it’s fine.”

Your banter seems to ease the mood and the conversation slips back into something more lighthearted as you finish up the last leg of your trip.

———

[ 🍃🍃🍃]

The scenery begins to change the closer you get to the beach. The tall, dark pine forest is pushed further back and what trees do line the road are short and sparse You drive by the fork in the road that leads to the nearby town of Starklake. Even outside of the town proper you drive by a few homes and small businesses. A small brown sign points you in the direction of the campgrounds.

“We’re here!”

You pull into a small gravel parking lot and hop out to stretch your legs. Surprisingly, only a couple other cars are present. You figured that a beach campground would be absolutely swarmed during the summer which was why you had been so insistent about leaving early in the morning. The almost stranded lot proved that to be a wasted effort.

“Look who finally decided to show up.”

You recognize her voice before you even turn around.

“Ava!” you shout and have to hold yourself back from running over and hugging her. “How long have you guys been here?”

“Almost an hour. We were lucky to find a spot with how busy it was,” she waves a hand at the almost deserted parking lot.

“Ok, so I may have overestimated how packed it’d be. Can you blame me?” you say, grabbing your bags from the trunk.

“Oh don’t worry. We’ve already decided you’re in charge of setting up camp,” she says and grins.

“Suddenly I’m regretting my decision to ride with you,” Tom jokes before giving Ava a short wave. She nods in return.

“Don’t worry. I know the secret to setting a camp up real quick,” Andy says and slams the trunk closed.

“Pitching the idea that camping under the stars is the hottest summer trend?” you offer.

“No, but that can always be Plan B.”

“If you’re done trying to worm your way out of the work I’ll show you where everyone else is,” Ava says and begins to walk ahead without waiting for a response.

“You know it’s been too long when I actually miss Ava’s attitude,” Andy says.

The three of you scramble to keep up with her on the way to everyone else.

Your campsite ends up being about a fifteen minute walk from the parking lot, but the landscape of the beach makes it feel far more secluded. A rocky peninsula juts out to the right and encloses the campsite in its own little space. While the water isn’t crystal clear (or even particularly inviting) just being by the ocean invigorates you. Up ahead you see familiar figures standing by a small mountain of bags and camping gear.

“Hey guys!”

“Lily!” You break out into a run, but the sand slows you down and instead you amble on over to the group with all the grace of a giraffe. You almost knock her over with the force of your hug when you finally reach her.

“Whoa!” she yelps, trying to steady herself.

“Sorry. I just missed you.”

“You’re so lucky we missed you too or you’d need to do a lot more than set up our tents for making us wait so long,” Stacy says and pulls you into a hug.

“Don’t worry. Ava already chewed us out about it,” Andy says after he and Tom drop your cooler and bags off with everyone else’s.

“It hasn’t been that bad,” Dan says and bumps a volleyball over to Andy.

“Dan’s right. There’s actually some really interesting examples of the growing erosion problem on the beach here,” Lucas says and points out certain spots of the shore.

“Oh my god. Somehow your nerdy Picstagram posts pale in comparison to the live action Lucas,” you say.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says and pulls you into a side hug. “It’s great to see you all again.”

“Same here. I’m psyched we all get to hang out again before I start school,” Andy says while bouncing the volleyball between Tom, Dan, and himself.

“Let the first annual Westchester Badass Club camping trip begin!” you exclaim to a chorus of groans.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

End of Chapter 1

Chapter 2: With the camping trip in full swing will everything go on without a hitch?

#my ff #it lives in the woods #ilitw #sorry for the tag spam yall #andy kang #ava cunningham #dan pierce #lily ortiz #lucas thomas #stacy green #tom sato #tomoichi sato #my mc #andy x katya #andy kang x mc #ilitw fanfiction #ilitw fanfic

67 notes · View notes

somethingusefulfromflorida · 4 years

Text

What Happens, Stays

The Nevada sky was ablaze as last rays of the sun disappeared behind the mountains, casting the old stretch of desert highway in total darkness. Not a single car had gone by in two hours, so the attendants of the Last Chance gas station prepared themselves for another long night of tedium.

Charlie had left his post at the register to meander aimlessly around the two aisles of concessions. The morning guy wasn’t clocking in until 4 AM, so he tried his best to keep himself entertained. He started off the night by studying the Nutrition Facts on the back of candy wrappers, but soon grew tired of this little endeavor. Later, he began stacking boxes of store brand pop tarts into a makeshift pyramid, but again became bored. With nothing left to clean or stock, Charlie made his way back to counter, stopping at the brochure display to examine a tourist map to Las Vegas. His dad had always promised to take him to Vegas one day.

“When you grow up, kiddo.”

Charlie neatly folded the brochure and stuffed it in his uniform’s chest pocket.

He sat back down on his stool, groaning over its lack of back support, and reached under the counter for one of his boss’s dog-eared detective novels. Older than most people he knew, the book’s pages were yellow and brittle, many of the corners having snapped off from being folded over a few times too many. He wouldn’t admit it to any of his friends, but he had grown fond of these old pulp novels, his only source of entertainment besides the CCTV that hung in the far corner. When he first started working here he would often make faces into the camera, watching himself on the TV like a child mugging into a funhouse mirror. This pastime soon grew old, and while he had already read every book in Duke’s collection, he found himself returning to each of them every few weeks.

Duke was in the back room, the glorified supply closet he called an office. He sat in an old lawn chair at the poker table he used as a desk, gong over the day’s receipts. There weren’t many, but he had little else to do until morning.

“Hey Duke,” Charlie called, “I gotta go to the restroom, can you man the store?”

“You ain’t in high school no more, bud. Don’t gotta ask permission to take a leak.”

Charlie grabbed the key to the men’s room and headed out to the cinder block hut next to the pumps. The women’s room key was attached to a comically large pair of sunglasses, while the men’s was chained to an old VHS tape with ‘Burning Man 91’ hastily scrawled across the yellowed masking tape.

Burning man. There was another one his dad promised to take him to, years ago.

“Road trip, kiddo. Just me ‘n you, Chuckaroo.”

His dad made a lot of promises he never kept.

Charlie had barely left the store when he saw the RV, bouncing down the pothole covered road, making a beeline straight for the station. Its headlights were off, but he could see through the windshields that the lights were on inside. Whoever was driving wasn’t slowing down, and for a second Charlie expected them to crash into the pumps. Thoughts of a fiery death vanished as the RV’s brakes let out an otherworldly shriek, skidding to a precarious stop doubled parked just inches beside pumps 3 and 4. Charlie let out a sigh of relief and walked back into the station.

“Scratch that, boss,” he called, “customers.” He retook his place at the register and adjusted the sign Duke had unceremoniously taped to the card reader. NETWORK DOWN, CASH ONLY. Charlie waited dutifully for the RV’s occupants, the engine knocking and pinging as it cooled off.

It’s door slammed open, adding another dent to its pockmarked exterior, and out fell a disheveled man. Charlie figured he was a little older than himself, late twenties maybe. He could hear voices yelling from inside the RV, but could only make out the man’s responses.

“No, absolutely not! Scott is going to get the gas, you stay put. Fredo, do not let him out of this RV, I swear to God- Do not… Cause you’re a MESS, that’s why!”

Visibly seething, the man lumbered his way into the store, letting out a disgruntled hiss through gritted teeth the second the door closed behind him. He stood there for a moment, eyes shut tight like a 12-stepper trying and failing to find his happy place, awakening from his rage induced trance only after Charlie set his book down with a near inaudible flop. The man took a deep breath and glided over to the counter.

“Hey, listen, do you got, like, one of those… thingies...”

Charlie sat with concerned confusion as the man fumbled for the right word, physically grasping at the air with one hand.

“Handle. Purse. Bag- Basket! That’s the one. Like a grocery basket, you got any of those?”

Charlie shook his head, a slight wince breaking across his face. The man thanked him anyway and floated over to the fridge at the far end of the store. He stood there, propping the door open with his body for much longer than Charlie was comfortable with, letting all the cold out. Just as he was about to speak up, the man trudged back to the counter laden with a dozen bottles of water hugged tightly to his chest. He placed them on the counter, and left to make another trip. He had soon cleared out the Zephyrhills and was working his way through the Aquafina when he nearly dropped his armful in shock as Duke exited his office.

“Hey bud, you think you can handle this? I’mma go take a leak myself.”

Both Charlie and the man stood frozen, following Duke with their eyes until he vanished into the bathroom hut. With that, the man let out a loud sigh, not so much relieved as just tired, and made his way back to the register to finish his transaction. He shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot as Charlie began adding up the total on a pocket calculator, a deafening silence filling the store.

“Eight-eight-three-five,” the man stated, unprompted. Charlie didn’t know what he meant until he pressed enter, and saw that the man’s total was indeed $88.35 after tax. “We also need 200 on pump… uh, which one is it... 3? 4? Whichever, I dunno.”

He reached into his pockets and pulled out a crumbled wad of cash, plopping down three $100 bills and continuing his nervous shifts as he waited for his change. Charlie took the sweaty bills and splayed them out as flat as he could. He was about to mark them with the counterfeit pen when he noticed the feed on the CCTV had been cut.

“God damn it,” the man sighed.

The door flew open with a violent kick, and in stepped a man wearing a children’s Halloween mask, a pair of wire cutters in one hand, and a Smith & Wesson in the other.

“Don’t fucking move. Open the register right fucking now.”

“God damn it, Hank!” the first man yelled, “I told you to wait in the RV!”

Charlie was a deer in the headlights, standing there speechless with his hands up in front of him. The gunman’s only response was to level the weapon at his forehead, finger placed firmly on the trigger. He reeked of alcohol, and much of it could be seen staining his t-shirt and jeans. Charlie still didn’t move, but his breath quickened to short gasps.

Outside, two other men, presumably Scott and Fredo, were getting into a shoving match over whose job is was to watch who. One of them stared in through the store window and violently waved for both his colleagues to pile back into the RV before something bad happened. The other had a gun drawn and kept staring back and forth between the bathroom hut and the station.

The gunman pressed the barrel hard against Charlie’s trembling forehead. Tears streamed down his face, and he was biting his lower lip so hard he nearly drew blood, but Charlie found himself unable to move his hands to the register like he desperately wanted them to.

“Hank, for Christ’s sake, will you put the gun down, man? You don’t wanna hurt...” He squinted at Charlie’s name tag. “...Charles, do you? No, of course not. What you wanna do is head back to the GOD DAMN RV!“

Hank let out a long snort, and swallowed hard. He cocked his slightly head to one side, but kept his bloodshot eyes locked on the weeping cashier. Without lowering the gun, he took a step back, leaving a circular red mark where the barrel had been pressed against his head.

“Any day now, kiddo.”

“Fuckin’ ay Hank, stop it!” The man haphazardly grabbed at the gun the same way one might try to take a drunk friend’s keys. Then and only then did Hank lower it to the floor.

Charlie was ghost white, shaking uncontrollably from an adrenaline rush, trying is hardest not to hyperventilate. The man shot him a desperate look that seemed to say I’m sorry my friend tried to murder you, and began nudging Hank back towards the door. Hank didn’t move, legs planted firmly in place. He stuffed the gun back in his belt, and walked over to the counter, never breaking eye contact with Charlie. In one quick motion he snatched the folded-up brochure sticking out of his pocket. After giving it a quick glance, he made a noise somewhere between a chuckle and another phlegmy snort.

“See you ‘round, Chuckaroo.”

He turned to exit, knocking over the pyramid of pop tarts with his shoulder as he stumbled out the door.

“Listen, I’m really sorry.” the man said once Hank was out of earshot. “Hey, I’m- this- just- sorry. He’s, uh, he’s not all there.” At this he mimed frantic jazz hands, trying to convey some sort of information, but unsure exactly what. He nodded, content with the point he didn’t make, and scooped up as many bottles of water as he could carry. “Just, uh, keep the $300. Sorry. Again, sorry.”

The four men piled into the RV, and Charlie could just make out a heated argument as they slammed the door and peeled out from the station without pumping an ounce of gas. They continued north, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust and a short trail of skid marks in their wake.

Charlie plopped back down on the stool and doubled over, head between his knees, throwing up a little in his mouth. He grabbed a wad of napkins from the dispenser next to the hot dog warmer, and wiped away snot and tears as best he could, composing himself as Duke finally exited he men’s room, fanning the air in front of him as he walked back towards the store.

“Hey bud, you might wanna use the ladies’ room, I did something awful in there, it’s-” no sooner had the door closed behind him than he noticed things were off. Charlie’s eyes were red, nearly glazed over into a thousand-yard stare. There were boxes of pop tarts all over the ground, and bottles of water all over the counter. He looked up at the CCTV and saw nothing but static.

“What the fuck?”

Charlie’s face was a stone mask, a million thoughts going through his head. Before he could say anything, Duke trudged over to his storage office and came out with a large push broom.

“Hey, clean this up, will ya? I’mma go check out the raccoon nest by the camera. They musta came back and chewed through the line again.”

Charlie flashed two thumbs up and nodded without a word. With that, Duke went on his crusade. Just as he suspected, the camera line was chewed straight through, but the little bastards were nowhere in sight. He’d be sure to put more poison in the trash, though they’d gotten smart last time and picked around it. Either way, it was an easy fix; he had more coaxial cable in the office.

He walked back inside, and Charlie nearly jumped out of his skin when the bell above the door started ringing.

“What’s eatin’ you, bud?”

“It’s... nothing, boss. I just finished another of your books, and... the ending really freaked me out.”

Duke didn’t buy a word of it, but he didn’t probe any further. They had worked together for almost five years now, so he knew when Charlie needed some time to think his thoughts.

“We ain’t busy,” he said. “You can clock out early if you want, I got this.”

Charlie thanked him and made his exit, still shaking from the emotional roller coaster he’d just been through. He walked over to the beat up old muscle car his dad had given him for his sixteenth birthday. That was the last time he’d seen him. Six whole years had flown by like nothing.

The engine couched to life, and he made his way back to the highway, ready to go home and get some much deserved sleep. In the distance, he saw two blinking yellow lights, just out of sync with one another, looping back and forth as they almost lined up. When he got closer, he saw it was a rusted blue road sign, HIGHWAY ADVISORY, TUNE TO 1640 AM, URGENT MESSAGE WHEN FLASHING.

Any other time he would have ignored this, it was usually just warning about a car crash some fifty or sixty miles away, but tonight he tuned in. He caught the tail end of a police report asking listeners to call the crime stoppers tip hotline, before it started again from the top.

There was a bank robbery in San Diego a few days ago, a big job, millions of dollars, and the four perps managed to up and disappear. The FBI had identified the suspects via facial recognition, and the announcer listed off their names and descriptions, before again urging people to come forward with any tips that may lead to their arrest. Repeat.

Charlie must have listened to the message five or six times, and without thinking he had pulled out his phone and typed in the hotline number. He paused at the last second, thumb hovering forlornly over the dial button, and he eased on the brakes, coming to a dead stop in the middle of the road. His headlights were the only ones for miles, the only other signs of civilization being the blinking road sign and the fluorescent glow of the gas station some ways behind him. The rest of the world was bathed in shadow, a dark sagebrush sea that stretched to the invisible mountains on the horizon.

His apartment was a little south of the station, but after some deep thought, he turned off his phone and threw it into the passenger seat, before making a three point turn and heading north on Route 95. He soon passed another rusted road sign which told him Las Vegas 58 Miles.

His eyes kept darting to the phone beside him, so he tossed it into the backseat. He knew he would probably regret this later, but right now nothing else mattered to him. He blew by the Last Chance gas station, and figured the RV couldn’t have made it even halfway to Vegas if they were running on empty. He’d filled up his own tank before he clocked in for his shift, so he was good to go; he’d catch up to them in no time. He gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles were white.

“Just me ‘n you, dad.”

2 notes · View notes

funnythingshere0-blog · 6 years

Text

'BlacKkKlansman' Review: Spike Lee Detonates a Funny and Righteously Furious 'Fuck You' to Trump — Cannes 2018

New Post has been published on http://funnythingshere.xyz/blackkklansman-review-spike-lee-detonates-a-funny-and-righteously-furious-fuck-you-to-trump-cannes-2018/

'BlacKkKlansman' Review: Spike Lee Detonates a Funny and Righteously Furious 'Fuck You' to Trump — Cannes 2018

It’s surprisingly easy to forget that “BlacKkKlansman” is a Spike Lee joint. Not only does it open with an extended sequence from “Gone with the Wind” (not a Spike Lee joint), but it also spends a good amount of time parsing the fundamental dilemma of Jewish-American identity, and takes place in the snow-white hills of Colorado Springs … which in this country, is pretty much as far from Crooklyn as you can get.

Sure, the usual Lee flourishes pop up here and there — from the introductory text promising this buddy-cop biopic is “some fo’ real shit,” to the gorgeous conveyor-belt shot at the climax, and the sobering mic drop of news footage that brings things to a close — and the whole thing is kissed with his cock-eyed anger. But so much of this movie seems like it could’ve been made by anybody. It couldn’t have been — it wouldn’t have been — but it often seems that way. We’re talking a clean three-act structure, a couple of scenes that vaguely resemble car chases, and motherfucking Topher Grace.

The truth is, you just don’t expect that something called “BlacKkKlansman,” an unvarnished look back at the African-American police officer who conned his way into David Duke’s inner circle, is going to be Spike Lee’s most commercial project since “Inside Man” in 2006. Hell, this thing is so mainstream it feels like the start of a franchise. And yet, that mass appeal is a huge part of what makes this funny and righteously furious American film so powerful. Lee might paint with a broad brush, but he makes damn sure that every one of his targets is tagged with at least a little splotch of red. And he makes damn sure that every one of us can see it so clearly that it will never wash off.

“BlacKkKlansman” rewinds the clock back to the early ’70s, a time when the Vietnam War was raging, caller ID had yet to be invented, and way too many other things were the same as they are now. When Ron Stallworth (John David Washington, of the Denzel Washingtons) rolls up to the Colorado Springs Police Department, he’s the first black cop they’ve ever had on the force. And his blackness is a bit dissonant for many of his very white (and very sheltered) new co-workers. On the one hand, he’s got a big afro. On the other, he talks like a bible salesman.

Read More:Cannes Film Festival Directors Sign Pledge Vowing to Increase Gender Equality at Festival

Sick of working in the records office and eager to earn the respect of his peers, Ron volunteers for undercover work. He says he’s got a “niche.” Lucky for him, a perfect opportunity for some light intel work falls into his lap: Kwame Ture (a commanding Corey Hawkins) is giving a speech for the black student union, and Ron is just the guy to slip in and read the room unnoticed. Not only does he get the job done, but he also gets to meet-cute with a beautiful and impassioned activist named Patrice Dumas (Spider-Man’s recent love interest, Laura Harrier).

But there are too many diehard racists on the force — too many angry white men who like to kill black kids for sport. So Ron tries to move things along. On the spur of the moment, he opens the phone book, picks up the receiver, and dials the local chapter of the KKK. He tells them that he’s interested in becoming a member; he uses his real name (rookie mistake). The next thing Ron knows, he’s got a blind date with a real-life White Nationalist. And, um, that’s probably not going to be much of a love connection. Fortunately, our quick-thinking hero has a plan: He’s going to pull a “Cyrando de Bergerac” and send a detective named Flip Zimmerman (Adam Driver) to wear a wire and “play” Ron Stallworth in person. Never mind that Flip is Jewish — even he needs to be reminded of that. Besides, he can pass.

Just like that, they’re off to the races. Flip gets in tight with the brotherhood, while Ron listens in from a nearby car. The Colorado Springs chapter of “The Organization” is represented by a cartoonish trio of incompetents (Ryan Eggold as the leader, Jasper Pääkkönen as the suspicious sociopath, and “I, Tonya” breakout Paul Walter Hauser as the mouth-breathing source of extra comic relief). The film makes fun of them from its modest start to its explosive finish, and yet — strange as it may seem — there’s always something irreducibly terrifying about a well-armed militia that’s hellbent on ethnic cleansing.

Read More:‘Three Faces’ Review: Jafar Panahi’s Turns His Life Into a Movie With Another Statement on Censorship — Cannes 2018

Always something, but sometimes not enough. Lee, whose films are not exactly known for their tonal consistency, often struggles to reconcile the dark comedy of these scenes with the sheer darkness that surrounds them. At times, the absurdity of the KKK members — and one of their wives — is so extreme that it undercuts the urgency of the threat they pose. And that’s before Stallworth connects with the hate group’s then-leader, an eminently punchable and regrettably familiar weasel named David Duke (unfortunately for Topher Grace, the role that he was born to play).

But the mocking phone calls between Ron and the Grand Wizard aren’t only there so that we can laugh at Duke as he swears that he can tell the difference between black and white people based on the sound of their voice. They also serve a second, and more critical function, as Lee’s script — based on Stallworth’s memoir, and co-written by three other writers — uses their duality as a vehicle to explore the quest for pluralism at the heart of this story. Is it truly possible for a black American to be both of those things at once? Is it possible for a Jew? Wasn’t the fundamental promise of this country that we could all be together ourselves?

It’s hard to imagine a more lucid expression of that seemingly irreconcilable conflict than the sequence in which Ron — the real Ron — is assigned to protect Duke when he comes to town. In a film where Washington is too often stuck behind a desk, putting on his phone voice and biting his tongue, this strange encounter allows the actor to have an out-of-body experience; he’s othered and included at the same time, twisting Duke’s own ignorance against him. It’s all conveyed through the suspense of a ’70s cop thriller (and sometimes even the swagger of blaxploitation), and Washington has a blast with every moment of it.

Read More:Cannes 2018 Palme d’Or Contenders: Here’s a Look at the Likely Winners (UPDATED)

Driver eventually does as well, though his character spends most of the movie in harm’s way. Unleashing the pent-up testosterone that percolated beneath his roles in “Girls” and “Star Wars,” Driver leans into every one of the self-loathing epithets that Flip uses as a disguise. He does a brilliant job of registering the toll that it takes, every anti-semitic jab pushing him closer to a real confrontation with the Jewish identity that he’s always kept like a half-forgotten secret.

It’s very unexpected (and exceedingly rare) to see a film that reckons with the dormant feelings — the pride, shame, tradition, history, and otherness — of being a “passing” Jew in White America, let alone a film that clarifies that reflects the Jewish-American and African-American experiences against each other in order to clarify them both.

While “BlacKkKlansman” only has so much time to dwell on such things as it barrels along the predictable trajectory of a superhero origin saga, each of Lee’s hyper-political asides speaks to the institutional anxieties at the heart of this story. In fact, Ron and Patrice spend most of their scenes together addressing the issue head-on: Is it possible to change the system from the inside if the people in power don’t want the system to change?

David Duke found a way to crack it, and he drops enough groan-worthy dramatic irony to make sure we recognize that (he foams at the mouth about “America first,” and even gives a little speech about inserting a White Nationalist into the Oval Office one day). Patrice isn’t convinced that it’s a workable solution for an oppressed people, but if the Colorado Springs Police Department can turn things around on their own streets — if Ron can somehow reconcile being a black cop, and Flip a white Jew — then we can be the system. Quoth Hillel the Elder: “If not now, when? If not you, who?”

Far more frightening than it is funny (especially after Lee connects the dots from Colorado Springs to Charlottesville), “BlacKkKlansman” packages such weighty and ultra-relevant subjects into the form of a wildly uneven but consistently entertaining night at the movies. It’s as broad as America is wide, but that’s as broad as it needs to be. After all, “The Birth of a Nation” was a blockbuster. It was history written with lightning. “BlaKkKlansman” is a deafening roll of the thunder we’ve been waiting for ever since.

Grade: B+

“BlacKkKlansman” premiered in Competition at the 2018 Cannes Film Festival. It will be released in theaters on August 10th.

0 notes