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lumini-317 · 3 years

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Hello!

This will be my official “introductory” post!

My real name is Erica, but I go by many names. My nickname repertoire includes but is not limited to: Lumi, Lumini, Cricket (I have a habit of rubbing my feet together, lmao), Jinx, Eri, Er, EriJoy, Sunbaeby, and Aceir (my real name but in alphabetical order).

This is my first ever Tumblr blog. I’ve had it for a while but have rarely posted anything, that along with the fact that I’m on mobile is kind of a mess so I apologize for mistakes and all that.

I have 3 older brothers, an older sister, and a younger brother.

I’m an ambivert. Sometimes I love hanging out with bigger groups of people, other times I dread it.

I’ve taken the “16personalities” test 4 times and all 4 put me in the “Diplomat” category, however I got “Advocate” (INFJ) 2 times, and “Protagonist” (ENFJ) and “Mediator” (INFP) 1 time each.

I am LGBTQ+. I’m asexual, aro+panromantic flux, and while I feel like I’m genderfluid, the changes are very subtle and so I sometimes just go with agender, gendervoid, or neutrois. It’s a lot less complicated that way. I’m ambiamorous, and also pronoun apathetic!

I love whump. I’ve loved it for as long as I can remember but only found the whump community maybe 3(?) years ago.

I also love K-Pop, C-Pop, J-Pop, and Asian dramas, mainly K-Pop and K-Dramas, though.

I’m a HUGE multistan. ATEEZ, SKZ, TBZ, EXO, BTS, Red Velvet, SHINee, iKON, MONSTA X, TWICE, TO1, WANNA ONE, SuperM, X1, MIRAE, Ciipher, Golden Child, Purple Kiss, BAE173, SF9, IU, ONEUS, ONEWE, The Rose, PIXY, LUCY, STAYC, WEi (which I pronounced as “way” for an embarrassingly long time), Dreamcatcher, Brave Girls, TXT, ENHYPEN, SNSD, KARD, AKMU, SHAUN, Gaho, NCT, GHOST9, 1team, SE7EN, Cross Gene, D1ce, AB6IX, CRAVITY, BLACKPINK, CIX, VIXX, f(x), 4Minute, CLC, YEZI, B.I, Wonho, (G)I-DLE, EVERGLOW, SEVENTEEN, BROOKLYN, Ha Hyunsang, DAY6, GOT7, Teen Top, BAP, TREASURE, UNIQ, etc! It goes on, far longer than I can list. I am also very much against fanwars, they disgust me.

I’m also a HUGE animal lover, and a big softie. I can’t even squish insects. I don’t care that they can’t feel pain and don’t experience emotions, I just can’t bring myself to. I make it my mission to save any type of animal I come across. I find toads in our koi pond and immediately pick them out and take them to a safe place. I help turtles across the road. I got a mouse out of a puddle and revived it, releasing it when it was healthy enough. I saw a snail on a piece of wood that was going to be thrown on a fire and carefully pulled it off and put it somewhere else. So far I’ve found 5 stray cats (Piper, Toothless, Felix, Kai, and Kit Kat—all were found as skinny, sickly kittens) and took them in, raising them as my own. I rescued a chipmunk from certain death-by-cat. I’ve even saved a few baby raccoons, ducklings, lizards, spiders, and snakes in my time. And I’ll keep doing so for as long as I live.

I love writing, drawing/sketching, and painting, however I’m not confident that I’m good at any of those things, lmao. I mean, I don’t think I’m the worst, but my finished “works” often leave me unsatisfied with my “skills”. But of course, that won’t stop me from trying to improve!

I’m a maladaptive daydreamer. This can cause issues in some places while helping me out in others. On one hand, it makes doing chores and such kind of difficult. Like one time I had to take care of my dad’s pigeons while he was fixing our shed and one time he pointed out how slow I was with the chores. His words were something along the lines of, “I’m already almost done with what I have to do and you’re still working with the pigeons.” Also, it (and maybe ADHD if I do have it?) made school a nightmare for me. But it’s also helpful because then during church it’s really easy to keep myself occupied while the pastors go on about their Magical Sky Daddy™’s son throwing a tantrum and killing a figtree because it didn’t have any figs and how that story should “challenge” us or something.

The characters in my daydreams are weird, though. They merge and separate with each other to make different characters depending on the situation. Most of them don’t have definite genders. Only a handful of them have names because they’re always merging and separating like some kind of Shadow Clone Masters or something. Stuff like that.

One of my characters is for sure a demi-boy, though, and his name is Kyler.

I brought this up because I was watching The Andy Griffith Show and Andy was giving Opie a lecture on how many poor kids there are in the world and used the ratio “one and a half boys per square mile”. Opie then says that he’s “never seen a half a boy before”. Kyler just sort of pops into (fake) existence, jumps off the couch, and throws his arms in the air while saying, “Half a boy, right here!” I burst out laughing. Thankfully it didn’t seem weird, since my parents started laughing at Opie and thought that I was just laughing at it, too.

Any-who.

If I daydream while I’m standing, I’ll often pace and gesture with my arms while moving my lips. Sometimes I’ll even whisper. If I’m sitting down, I usually fidget a lot (such as pick at my shirt and rub my feet together), stare into space, and move my lips or whisper. My family sometimes ask me, “Why are you whispering?” Or, “What are you grinning about?” And I just shrug because I don’t know how to explain it to them without risking them calling someone to pray over me, lmao. I mean, I wasn’t even allowed to have imaginary friends because that was “evil”. When I was about 7, I told my parents about my imaginary unicorn friend and they gave me a lecture and “prayed over me”. It was embarrassing and awkward for me.

I’m suspicious that I might have ADHD, but don’t have the money to actually get a professional diagnosis. I’m also too scared to ask my parents about it.

Speaking of which, my family and I don’t see eye-to-eye. I mean, they don’t know it because I’m good at hiding it, and they think I agree with mostly everything they do but boy, is it a mess.

You see, they’re evangelical conservative Christians. “LGBTQ+ people are going to hell”, “ThE LeFt ARe eViL AnD ARe TrYiNg To BrAiNwAsh OuR ChiLdrEn”, “Trump was sent by God”, “Intersex is fake”, “Women must submit to men”, “You should get married no later than in a year or ‘the temptation’ to have sex might become too much”, the whole bit.

Meanwhile I’m over here with my (imaginary) pride flags, just existing as an agnostic leftist who wants everyone to have equal rights, regardless of gender identity or sexual orientation, and would rather redo my horrifically atrocious kindergarten closing program role than pray to a god who (if they/he/she/it/whatever exists) gives cancer to kids and killed millions of innocent animals and people in the Bible.

But they have no idea that this is how I feel and now expect me to be baptized within the next month to show that I have “accepted Jesus Christ as my savior”. Yeah...that’s gonna be an awkward discussion...

Anyway, that’s just some things about me. Sorry that I got sidetracked a few times, lmao!

I look forward to posting more and maybe even making friends!

Thank you for reading (:

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sanstropfremir · 3 years

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this is random and idk if you've already talked about it, but what do you think of stray kids' cover of my house by 2pm? i come back to it every once in a while because i like it as a song but i always thought the performance was so... emotionless. and impersonal. and i think part of that is because of the fact that they're lipsyncing. ik it's not their song and 4th gen already lip syncs as it is, and the chances for that are even higher when you're covering a song and don't want to mess it up out of respect i suppose (and even more so if it's actually your company senior.)

BUT!! even aside from that, i've noticed that like half of them look down at some point, like they're so concentrated on not messing up the moves or something, so aware that they're on stage, that it's a bit uncomfortable. i know it was during last year's award season which had no audience, but still. i much like it when an artist keeps it nice even when they're not center. i'm also aware that they might not have had the longest time to prepare for this, they performed for every award show i think so it's only natural that they were a bit worried.

surprisingly for me, my favorites in that stage are lee know and changbin, and lee know especially is not a member i pay too much attention to. but they're giving off at least some attitude. lee know's seems much too fabricated, so to speak, but changbin, especially in the beginning of his rap, seems very natural.

i have not talked about this stage actually! i don't remember watching it during the end of year shows but i was pretty laser focused on the wild shit that taemin was doing so that's not surprising. i think rookie groups of the big three have it rough when it comes to covering their seniors songs, because usually they have really fucking big shoes to fill. i can imagine that yea, skz were probably nervous as all hell to cover my house because hello, it's my house. i agree with most of your points here, i do think they probably didn't have the most amount of time to learn it, but other than nerves and unfamiliarity, i think the two biggest factors in this stage looking unnatural for them is 1) they're young and 2) it's pretty far outside of their wheelhouse. i've mentioned this a a couple of times before, both in relation to skz and to 4th gen groups as a whole, but they haven't really learned how to put on a stage persona in the same way that 2nd gen groups have. this makes it especially difficult for them to cover 2nd gen songs because the premise of 2nd gen songs is that the ridiculousness is geniune, not ironic. not that my house is that particularly ridiculous for a 2nd gen song since it came out in 2015, but the performances are still motivated from that place. the reason why lee know and changbin manage to look the most comfortable is lee know is the main (i think? one of at least) dancer and has a lot of dance training, so he's probably the most familiar with stage personas, and changbin is covering ok 'famous-for-not-giving-a-shit' taecyeon's part, which is the least stage-y and most naturalistic part in the song. and even if that were not an issue, skz is like five years too young for the vibe of this song. 2pm were already SEVEN years into their career when my house was released; the youngest members were 25 and jun.k was 27, vs bang chan who was barely scraping 23 at time of recording. for further elabouration on this point, see my previously posted response about men post-25 and how they are always hotter.

my second point of my house being outside of skz's usual repertoire is not really that deep, but i think it bears mentioning because it's connected to the other two points that i brought up, and also some things i've mentioned before. there isn't a whole lot of nuance within skz's title tracks. and i mean performance/choreographic nuance, not emotional nuance. their style tips more towards loud and brassy, with a lot of big, complex, and fast movements. my house is not that. in fact it's probably close to the polar opposite of that, which requires a diffferent set of skills that they just don't have the experience in right now. i think if skz came back in five years and did a cover again we'd be saying different things, but they were definitely punching above their pay grade here lol.

#stray kids w #i watched the regular cut stage version and then the dance practice and the wideshot fancam #and it's not that it's a bad performance it's just so very far outside their normal that it doesn't look right #its not really that weird of a trend because it kind of makes sense but also doesnt #but the propensity for making rookie groups cover senior's songs #without acknowledging the amount of experience the senior group had at time of release is a bit weird #and sets the rookies up for failure most of the time #like yea the choreo for my house isnt technically hard but also a 19yro does NOT have the vibes for that song #this is also very common with tvxq covers #i think i said it a while ago but any rookie group that tries to cover kyhd would be instantly annihilated by the vibes #this isnt really that big an issue with shinee because shinee's vibes have been relatively youthful #rookies just have to go up against the fact that its shinee lmao #and we start to see less and less full covers as groups get more mature so we dont really have an opportunity to see a proper match #which is fair and valid and i understand it is the way it is #this is why i love that ace still does a fair amount of covers because you can see them absolutely BODY tracks #the feel special its live.............head empty donghun only #kpop questions #stray kids #group analysis #text #answers

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darks-ink · 4 years

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Just To Be Seen By My Eyes

Heya @aedelia, happy holidays! Here’s my Truce gift to you! Hope you enjoy it!

Also on [AO3] and [FFN]!

---

“It’s certainly very beautiful,” Maddie said, slowly, cautiously, “but I don’t understand why they gave it to us.”

“A sign of appreciation, perhaps?” Jack guessed, shrugging. “We are Amity Park’s primary ghost hunters. Maybe they wanted to pay us back for it?”

Maddie hummed, spreading out the papers a little further. Now they laid all separated on the table, allowing the two of them to view them fully.

“I suppose the artistic interpretation of the Ghost Zone is very interesting,” she eventually settled on. “We know vaguely what it looks like, thanks to the time the town was brought into the Zone, but still.”

Jack picked up one of the sheets of paper, his favorite painting of the bunch they had received. Besides the black-green sky that they had known about, it depicted a ramshackle building that reminded him of Fentonworks, bits of technology haphazardly welded together.

“Even if they’re useless for research, they are still pretty, Mads. I say we frame them. Jazz has been complaining of the house lacking decoration, anyway.”

“I suppose so.” She shook her head, but her lips quirked into a smile as she nudged another painting. This one depicted a grand castle, a vibrant forest nestled up next to it. Ha, like the Ghost Zone could even house something like forests, never mind ones so lively. “I do wish we knew who the artist was.”

“Yeah, definitely.” He put the painting down with the rest, carefully smoothing it out. “They’re certainly a creative sort. Wish we could track them down, but there must be tons of people in town with the initials DP.”

“Well, nothing we can do about it.” Maddie shrugged, turning to head to the lab. “If they only signed it with their initials, and didn’t leave a note with their name, they must not have wanted us to know who they were.”

He grunted as he followed her down the stairs. “Still, I wish we could’ve thanked them. It would be interesting to hear them explain why they chose to depict the Ghost Zone like that.”

“It would be more interesting to look at the real Ghost Zone,” Maddie lamented, stopping next to her table in the lab. She heaved a sigh. “But, unfortunately, we can’t risk such trips.”

“I know,” he grunted. “Who knows what kind of things Phantom could get up to while we left? Or worse yet, what it could do to us while we’re out of the town’s sight.”

“Yes, indeed.” Maddie straightened a blueprint, and Jack stepped up next to her. “Well, nothing we can do about it, except try harder to catch Phantom. Speaking of which, honey, I think I finally figured out how to fix the Bazooka’s battery issues.”

---

“Oh, another one.” Jack chucked the letters in his hand onto the table, focusing on the new drawing. DP had continued to send in paintings on a regular basis. At first they had been various interpretations of the Ghost Zone, like the first batch, but as time went on they had expanded their repertoire and started painting ghosts instead.

“This is certainly a curious one,” Jack mumbled to himself as he looked over the new painting. It was another imagined Ghost Zone vista, although the edges of the island weren’t visible. A lush snowscape, with the characteristic black-and-green sky of the Zone. A curious details was that DP had included ghosts into the landscape this time; small specks of them littered the hills, and a few were close enough for them to include details. They looked animalistic, with shaggy white fur and ice-like horns. One of them even had an arm made entirely out of ice, with bones visible within. A shame that DP had included that detail; ghosts didn’t have bones, so it was an unfortunate error.

Still, there was nothing to be done about it. Maddie hadn’t been terribly interested in looking into the mystery of this ‘DP’ further, and to be honest, he could understand why. They wanted to learn more about the Ghost Zone, and whoever DP was, their paintings couldn’t possibly be based on the truth. Nobody had been to the other side of the Fenton Portal besides ghosts, and no ghost would make mistakes like including bones.

Jack blew out a sigh, placing the painting down on the table. They could figure out what to do with it later. DP had been sending them so often that Maddie and he weren’t sure what to do with them anymore. No matter how sweet it was that this artist was inspired by them, or by their research into ghosts, they couldn’t possibly showcase all this art. They didn’t even know who made them!

“Mads?” he called downstairs instead, deciding to take his mind off of the topic. “I’m gonna head out with the GAV, see if I can find some ghosts!”

“Be home in time for dinner, honey!” Maddie’s voice echoed from downstairs, underlined with the metallic clang of her putting down her tools. “And call me if you need me out in the field!”

“Will do!” he assured her. He didn’t need to check for weaponry; the GAV was always well-stocked, and would have everything he might possibly need.

So he headed for the garage, hopped into the large vehicle, and buckled his belt. The ignition roared to life, and with it, so did the various electronic appliances built into the GAV. Most importantly, at least for now, was the ghost radar.

The screen of the radar lit up, and Jack leaned in closer. Ah, and look at that! Not one, but two ghosts in the park! He’d better head over there. Either they were up to trouble, or it was Phantom chasing some other ghost. And if it was the latter, Jack might finally get the annoying specter!

Quickly he raced over to the park, stopping the GAV right next to the fence. He would have to continue on foot, since the gates were too small, but that was okay. He might be able to sneak up on the ghosts like this, since neither of them had moved since he had first seen them on the radar.

Still, whatever they were up to, it couldn’t possibly be good. Ghosts were malevolent, through and through, and if they hadn’t moved they hadn’t been fighting with each other. That must mean that they were working together, either causing trouble, or plotting to cause trouble later. No matter which of the two it was, Jack knew he had to interfere.

He quickly grabbed one of the plentiful ecto-guns the GAV was stocked with, jumping out of the vehicle. He didn’t have a radar on hand, but that was okay. The ghosts were unlikely to move if it hadn’t before now, and, well. They literally glowed. He was sure he would be able to spot them when he got close enough, even in the bright afternoon light.

As quietly as possible, he crept through the bushes. His gun, he held ready. He had to find the ghosts, and quick. Who knew what kind of trouble they might’ve gotten up to?

The moment he spotted a glimpse of unnatural white light, Jack stopped. Then, certain that neither of the ghosts had spotted him, Jack peeked through the leaves.

The ghost closest to Jack was instantly recognizable. Slight but masculine build, messy white hair, and a black jumpsuit. Phantom, without a doubt. The other, he couldn’t place. Green skin, long blonde hair tied into a braid, and with a sky blue dress. Definitely modeled after a woman, that one, and slightly older than Phantom. Or, well, if they had been humans. There was no telling the age of a ghost.

“Almost done,” Phantom spoke, suddenly. But it seemed to be talking to the other ghost. Why? Almost done with what?

“Ah, very well.” The other ghost inclined its head slightly, a gesture almost a nod, but halted. “I admire your work, Sir Phantom, but my kingdom calls for me.”

A kingdom? Sir Phantom? Very interesting. He would have to make sure to remember all of this. Oh, if only he had some sort of recording device ready. Maddie would’ve loved to hear this, too.

“I know, I know. I really appreciate you coming out here for me.” Phantom didn’t look away from whatever it was doing, hunched over. “I know things are still kinda messy after the whole Aragon thing.”

“It is no trouble,” the medieval ghost—the ghostly queen?—assured Phantom. “Without your help, I never could’ve overthrown my brother. I owe you, Sir Phantom.”

Phantom snorted, shaking its head briefly. “You know that that’s not true, Dora. You fought Aragon on your own, and you won that way too.”

“Ah, but--”

“No buts,” Phantom interrupted the other ghost—Dora, apparently. “You know just as well as I do that I wasn’t the one to convince you to stand up for yourself. You already made me your knight and your ally. You don’t owe me anything.”

The monochrome ghost paused for a moment, then lifted the object it had been hunched over. Finally Jack had a chance to see what it was, and he felt his heart stop.

Phantom had been working on a painting. And, depicted on the paper, was the other ghost. The style, even from where he was hiding, was instantly recognizable. Phantom had been the one sending paintings to FentonWorks.

Oh. Oh. Of course he had been! Just because the ghost usually went by Phantom didn’t mean it lacked a full name. No, when it had first introduced itself, it had called itself Danny Phantom. DP!

Cursing internally, Jack startled back to awareness when the Dora ghost moved. It floated closer to Phantom, inspecting the painting as well. Were ghosts vain creatures, then? Did Phantom pay them in paintings to play pretend with it? Then why would it be sending them to the Fentons as well? Was it trying to buy them? Buy their alliance, so they would no longer hunt it? Ha! As if!

“Oh, what a wonderful work again.” Dora smiled, an expression that was almost soft, if it hadn’t been on a ghost. “You did a very good job again, Sir Phantom.”

Phantom flushed bright green, and Jack took a moment to realize that it was a ghostly equivalent to blushing. How? Why? Ghosts didn’t feel emotions, why would they blush, especially to one another?

“Thanks,” Phantom stuttered back to the other ghost. “But it’s nothing special. And, um. Thank you for posing for me.”

“I already told you, it was no problem.” The other ghost floated a step or two away again, loosely shrugging. “I just hope the Fentons will like it, so you will finally be on good grounds with them.”

“I mean, um.” Phantom’s expression dropped into something Jack could only call an uncertain smile. “They, uh, don’t really care for them, I think? I believe they don’t think they’re real, and thus not useful.”

“But have you not been signing them as yours?” Dora insisted, a frown on its face. “Do they think that you are sending them false paintings of the Ghost Zone? Of your fellow ghosts?”

“Well, I, uh.” Phantom’s grin became even more harried. “I might’ve been signing them just as ‘DP’? I didn’t think they would trust them otherwise!”

Dora stared at the other ghost for a long moment, then clicked her tongue and shook her head. If it had been human, Jack would’ve said it was disappointed. But, since it was a ghost, it couldn’t possibly be. “Well, I suppose you know best. I wish you the best of luck with them, regardless.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Phantom nodded at the other ghost, and dismissed, it quickly left.

Now that it was just him and Phantom left, Jack knew he should be making a move. This was the perfect opportunity; Phantom was distracted, looking at the ground. Gathering its supplies, presumably.

But he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t.

It was astounding. Absolutely confusing. Sure, Phantom’s obsession had always been questionable, never easily labeled, but still. No possible interpretation could cover for its drive to fight off other ghosts and for painting. Hell, it didn’t even try to fight off this particular ghost! No, the two of them had seemed quite friendly, and Phantom had even let it leave without confirming that it really did leave Amity Park.

And then Phantom stood upright, suddenly, a roughed-up backpack in one hand, art supplies clearly visible poking out. In its other hand, it held the new painting.

“Well, let’s go deliver this one,” it said, voice quiet like it was just talking to itself. “Who knows, maybe seeing a ghost they don’t recognize will be what convinces them!”

As if. And clearly Phantom thought so too, based on the tone of its voice. But then, if it was intelligent enough to know this (and apparently it was), why would it still go through with this? Why would it put in such effort, if it knew that it was futile?

Phantom lifted off before Jack could even consider shooting it down. Shot up into the sky, fading from visibility before long.

Knowing that there was no point in lingering anyway, Jack pushed his way out of the bushes, finally. Absentmindedly brushed the dirt from his knees. Lumbered back to the GAV.

He turned the key of the ignition, and the radar booted back up. No ghosts left in range. Dora must’ve returned to the Ghost Zone as it had said, and Phantom went… wherever it usually went when they couldn’t find it.

Like this whole thing had never happened.

His drive back home had been slower than usual. Maybe it really hadn’t happened. Maybe he had just… imagined all of it. As long as there was no proof that Phantom had painted that medieval ghost, that Dora, it might as well not have happened. Right?

The car came to a halt. Jack let himself back in the house.

“Oh, Jack!” Maddie looked up from the potatoes she was peeling. Right. Dinner. “A new painting came in. It was quite fascinating. A portrait of a ghost again, but I don’t recognize this one. Do you think that the artist came up with it themselves?”

He felt his heart stop.

Jack licked his lips, then asked, cautiously, “Is it a green-skinned ghost, with long blonde hair in a braid?”

“Yes.” Maddie put down the potatoes, immediately focusing on him. “How did you know? Did you run into the ghost?”

“Yeah. Both of them.” He shook his head, then let himself drop onto the sofa. He wasn’t going to have this conversation standing up. “DP is Phantom, Mads. I saw him in the park, and he was painting that other ghost.”

“Are you sure?” Maddie asked, but clearly she could tell he was telling the truth. “But why? And how is it making such high quality paintings? It isn’t related to its supposed obsession at all!”

“I don’t know.” And that was the big problem, wasn’t it? Whenever they thought they had Phantom figured out, it introduced some new detail, some new variable. They never knew everything they needed to know about it. “I don’t know, but I know what I saw. Phantom painted it, with the intention to give it to us, and the other ghost was okay with that.”

“It was?” She sat back down as well, the half-peeled potatoes now completely ignored. “But how-- why?! Not only did Phantom indulge in something unrelated to its obsession—art—but then it also completely went against its obsession by letting another ghost into the town!”

Jack snorted humorlessly. “And worse still, Phantom let the other ghost leave without keeping an eye on it to make sure it left. They seemed on friendly terms, too. Were discussing when they worked together in the past. It even called Phantom ‘Sir Phantom’.”

“Unbelievable.” Maddie shook her head, staring down unseeingly. “There’s no way that this could all tie into its obsession, but…”

“But ghosts can’t act outside of those obsessions, either.” Jack nodded, slowly. “So either the research is wrong, and ghosts aren’t bound to their obsessions like we thought…”

“Or Phantom breaks the norm, somehow.”

They met eyes. Jack licked his lips. “And we have no way of knowing.”

“Never mind the question of why it’s making these paintings. For us specifically, right?”

“Yup. Some of them, at least, were made just for us.” Jack drug the new painting closer to himself, staring at it. It was of superb quality, carefully painted, and a very close match to the ghost he had seen in the park. “Which leaves one more question. If this painting is real, have all the others been too?”

“Surely not?” But Maddie was clearly already running through all the other paintings they had received from Phantom. The landscapes, the other ghosts. All the portraits had depicted ghosts they had seen in Amity before, even if others had featured in the landscapes. “It could’ve tweaked them, made the landscapes seem more interesting. Maybe it’s trying to make the Ghost Zone seem more alluring, so we will go in and run into its trap.”

But Jack shook his head. “I don’t think so. There are better ways to get us to explore the Ghost Zone, and it clearly knew that we didn’t put any faith in them being real. As hard as it was trying to convince us, I can’t imagine that it would put so much effort into luring us out there. Especially since it could lure us away with other stuff, by kidnapping civilians or our kids, or, hell, maybe even by stealing one of our more intricate inventions. Lord knows it’s not above stealing our stuff.”

“No, it definitely isn’t,” Maddie agreed easily, a pensive frown on her face. “Still, I can’t think of any other reason why it might be sending us paintings. What use could that possibly have for it? What benefit could it earn from this?”

“Who knows, Mads.” Jack puffed out a heavy sigh. “Who knows.”

---

“Are you sure that this was a good idea?”

“Pfft, are you doubting me?” Danny rolled his eyes at Clockwork’s unimpressed stare. “It’ll be fine, and you weren’t telling me any better plans. You can’t make me doubt myself after I did it!”

“I think that you will find that I can, in fact, do that.” Clockwork’s lips twisted into a smirk.

Danny huffed. “Yeah, well. Thanks for nothing, old man.”

Clockwork fixed him with another unimpressed look, one eyebrow quirked, as his body shifted into his child-like form.

“I hate you,” Danny muttered, no heat behind his words. After the whole thing with his evil future self he had started visiting Clockwork more often, hoping for future knowledge, or at least hints on how not to bring about another apocalypse of his own making. Instead he’d been getting lessons on the Ghost Zone’s history, its geography, and ghost culture as a whole.

He’d complain about it, but it was kind of helpful to know. Besides, Clockwork wouldn’t steer him wrong.

Probably.

“Anyway, I had better head home, see what my parents thought of the new painting.” He paused, then dug his phone out of his pocket. “Wait, can I take a picture of you? To paint you later?”

“On one condition.” Clockwork shifted back into his adult form, gesturing for Danny to come closer. “Make it a picture of the both of us.”

“What, like a selfie?” Danny snorted, but huddled up next to the time ghost anyway. “I mean, I guess, but I was kind of hoping for a painting to give to my parents.”

Clockwork hummed, but didn’t reply. Danny rolled his eyes, but lifted his phone to snap a picture of the two of them anyway.

“Would it kill you to not be cryptic for once?”

“Yes,” Clockwork replied, deadpan. “How else would I have become a ghost?”

Danny snorted, flicking back on his phone’s screen to look at the photo. “Fair enough. Anyway, the pic looks fine, so… Are you sure I can’t snap one of you alone?”

“I am sure. Now get going,” Clockwork’s lips twisted into a smirk, “Wouldn’t want to be late, would you?”

“You’re the worst.” Danny stuffed his phone back into his pocket, floating over to the door of the Clocktower. “I’ll get you back someday, Clockwork!”

“Sure you will,” he said airily, the smirk still on his face. “Sure you will.”

Danny rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to reply, instead leaving the lair. Clockwork was so frustratingly cryptic, but he always told good advice. If he insisted Danny paint a selfie of the two of them, well… there must be some sort of reason for it.

Not that he could think of a reason, but still.

He made sure to turn himself invisible right before passing through the Portal, zipping into his parents’ lab unnoticed. It was a good thing that they had never installed ghost scanners near the Portal, because that would’ve made life so much harder for him.

Huh. No one downstairs. He peeked over at the clock, but it wasn’t dinner time just yet. His mom might be working on it already, but his dad should still be downstairs, right? Strange.

Intangibly passing through the ceiling, he found himself in the living room. Ah, and there were his parents. And his new painting of Dora! Maybe they were discussing what to do now that they figured out that he really was painting the truth.

“It just… It doesn’t make any sense,” his mom said complaintively. She gestured at the painting, almost knocking over the pan with peeled potatoes on the table. “Why would Phantom paint these for us? What’s the point? What kind of benefit is it hoping to get from this?!”

“I don’t know.” His dad straightened up, looking at Danny. No, straight through him, at some of the framed paintings on the wall behind him. “If it were human, or following human logic, it might be… trying to help us understand the Ghost Zone? Paint more of it so we don’t have to go explore there? But even then… We’re not on good standings. Why would it try to help us?”

“Exactly.” Maddie heaved a sigh, then picked up her knife and an unpeeled potato, starting to peel it. “With a human, it could a sign of… of trying to better our relationship. But a ghost? They can’t experience such feelings, such desires, can they?”

“But neither can they pick up a hobby like painting if it’s unrelated to their obsession,” Jack pointed out, shrugging his massive shoulders. “I don’t know if we can dismiss any options, Mads.”

“No, I suppose not.” She dropped the peeled potato in the pot, picking up a new one. “We could try assembling a list of possible intentions later, and then try to cross them off one by one, based on Phantom’s behavior and reactions.”

His dad hummed a note of approval, and, figuring this was a good moment to stop eavesdropping, Danny resumed his earlier flight. Phasing into his room, he finally dropped his ghost form, noiselessly landing on the floor.

“Man. I can’t believe they figured that out,” he mumbled to himself. “How could I… Oh.”

He dug his phone out of his pocket, digging up the picture he just took. “Clockwork knew, obviously. And he… wants me to make a painting of the two of us.”

Danny made a face, then shrugged. “Well, I suppose there’s no harm in it. He’s never led me wrong. Unless he’s been resetting the timeline every time he did, but, well. Details.”

Dragging his ragged backpack to his desk, Danny spread out his art supplies. Straightened out a new piece of paper, laid out his phone for reference, and started painting.

Maybe he could include a little note with this one? Write it on the back, or something?

Yeah, maybe that would work…

---

Jack paused, the few letters he’d already leaved through barely hanging on. Was this…

He dropped the other letters, until the only thing left in his hands was the painting. An all new painting, the same style as all the other ones, but the subject matter…

“Mads!” he yelled, not looking away from the painting. “Mads, we got a new one!”

“We do?” Her voice echoed up the stairs, quickly followed by the sound of footsteps as she stormed up. Then she came up next to him, saw the painting, and paused as well.

He couldn’t blame her. Phantom must’ve somehow known that they had figured it out, or it gave up on subtlety.

The new painting depicted two ghosts, huddled up next to each other. Phantom’s arm was outstretched, as if the painting had been snapped like a photo. Maybe it was based on a photo. Next to Phantom was a large ghost Jack didn’t recognize; blue skinned, with empty red eyes and a purple cloak.

No, the focus of the picture was Phantom. It smiled at the camera, but it wasn’t its characteristic smirk. It was more like a genuine cheery smile, matched by a faint smile on the other ghost’s face.

Jack flipped the paper over, wondering if Phantom had signed it as usual. Instead he was surprised to find actual written text.

“A letter?” Maddie asked, leaning in closer. Jack held it out slightly so they could both read it.

“Dear Fentons,” the letter read, the handwriting scribbly like that of most teens, but still legible.

“I’ve been given to understand that you two have figured out that I’m the one making these paintings for you. And I understand that that’s probably pretty concerning, since you’re… not all that pleased with me and my… general existence. Some of the things I have done have been framed badly, yes, and sometimes I cause damage in my fights. Who doesn’t? But no matter what you think, or what this city thinks, I always try my best to protect everyone in this town. And I’m just one ghost, in the end. Even with Red around, I would feel much safer knowing that there are other ghost hunters around. And not just hunters, scientists, who understand how ghosts work, and who could teach others. So I tried to help you with that, tried patching your gaps of knowledge with some of my own. Only you did not realize it was based on the truth, because you didn’t know it was me, and now that you do… I fear that you still do not trust any of the information I’ve tried to teach you. So… I guess what I’ve been trying to say is…”

“Can I do anything else to help, to convince you?”

Jack startled, cursed, and dropped the letter. He twisted around to find Phantom floating behind them, its glow flickering.

“Phantom,” Maddie said, cautiously. Her hand crept to her hip holster, but it was a lost cause; she didn’t carry weapons in the lab. Too big of a risk of a malfunctioning invention setting them off.

“I’m serious,” the ghost insisted, its glow brightening slightly. It still flickered like a candle. Jack wondered why, since it didn’t seem like the ghost was hurt or otherwise hampered in strength. “I want to help you guys with your research. Without, y’know, dissection stuff. I know you haven’t been in the Zone, and I really wouldn’t recommend it because that place is dangerous, but come on! I can teach you all kinds of stuff; ghost society, culture, history--”

“Ghosts can’t have any of those things, though,” Maddie interrupted, eyes narrowed. “They don’t even have emotions. They act only on obsessions. That leaves no room for-- for society, or culture, or whatever else!”

“Oh, come on, you don’t seriously believe that, do you?” Phantom huffed, crossing its arms, and looking seriously peeved off. The glow flickered even more wildly, now. Was it… Could a ghost’s glow express emotion like that? “If I could only ever think about my supposed obsession, why would I make paintings like that? Huh?”

“Your supposed obsession?” Jack questioned, keeping a close eye on Phantom’s aura. “Are you implying that you don’t have an actual obsession?”

“No? Nobody has obsessions like you’ve described them.” Phantom shrugged, and its aura dimmed a little. Hmm, perhaps brightness was related to anger? But then what could the flickering be? Uncertainty? Anxiety? “Plenty of ghosts are obsessed, sure, but it’s no different from a human who is super obsessed with something. Like a hyperfixation, I guess. It certainly won’t kill them to do something else.”

“So if someone stopped you from fighting other ghosts, from protecting this town, you wouldn’t… It wouldn’t do you any harm?” Maddie asked, watchful eyes on Phantom.

“Well, no.” The ghost shrugged again. Its glow flickered harder. “I mean, if someone got hurt I would probably feel kinda guilty about it, but… I mean, nothing I could’ve done about it if someone stopped me.”

“I suppose that that makes sense,” Jack said before Maddie could speak. He wasn’t quite sure that Phantom was telling the truth about obsessions, but they were certainly wrong about the emotional capabilities of ghosts. Besides the interactions he had seen between Phantom and Dora in the park, there was no reason for them to express emotions via their glow; no human could understand that. It could only be used to communicate emotions with other ghosts. “I mean, I guess your obsession could be to be helpful, which would explain why you would learn painting to help us, but still. We were wrong about your emotional range. Who says we weren’t about obsessions, too?”

Phantom made a face, then shrugged a third time. “Eh, good enough for me. But, really, I would love to help you guys with your research by providing more knowledge.”

“Why would you send us paintings, anyway?” Maddie frowned, clearly confused. “Clearly you can take pictures, since this last one was obviously based on one. Why not send those directly?”

The ghost shrugged, then smiled sheepishly. “Well, uh. First of all, I really like painting and I could use the practice. And second, ghost stuff just doesn’t photograph well. The pictures didn’t do justice to the real things, so I figured I could paint them more alike.”

“I see,” Jack said, ignoring the sharp looks Maddie kept throwing him. “Well, we’ll think about it, okay? And we’ll let you know.”

Phantom’s glow flickered again, like a disturbed candle, but then the ghost nodded. “Sure. That’s more than I had expected, to be honest. See you guys around, then.”

The ghost raised a hand, then faded from visibility.

“And Phantom,” Jack shouted after him, assuming the ghost was still within hearing distance, “don’t enter our home without permission!”

“Yes sir!” an invisible voice chirped back, followed by the sensation of wind as the ghost flew away.

Maddie shot him an unamused look, but he shrugged. “Look, Mads. We clearly misstepped somewhere in our previous research. It’s undeniable that they have emotions, so maybe we were wrong about more?”

She watched him for a moment longer, then heaved a sigh. “If you say so, honey, you must have your reasons. At the very least we could hear him out, I suppose.”

“He’s not a bad kid,” Jack allowed, as he turned back to head towards the lab. “Definitely has a talent for painting, that one!”

#danny phantom #fanfiction #holiday truce 2019 #dp fanfic #phanfic #aedelia #jack fenton #maddie fenton #danny fenton #dark writes #im sorry i tried to add some clockwork danny bonding but i have the Hardest time writing CW #capturing his cryptic tone through a translation barrier is rough #title is from Saturn by Sleeping At Last

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tigerkirby215 · 4 years

Text

5e Yone, the Unforgotten build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Riot Games)

A YouTube comment on “The Path“ cinematic:

I can’t top this. This comment is fucking gold.

GOALS

Asakana - Trust me as a Kayn main I’m salty that we have another half-demon anime boy who isn’t even Darkin. But we still need a mask of many demonic faces.

Three swift strikes... - “Brother, why did Elder Souma let you have two swords?” Regardless we’ll need two swords for many slashes.

Death is like the wind - Yone is dead except not really, but he’s still capable of some astral projection to fight his foes from a distance.

RACE

Yone may have been human but with a demon fusing to him that gives him just enough infernal blood to be a Tiefling! As a Tiefling your Charisma score increases by 2 and your Intelligence score increases by 1. Your Hellish Resistance grants you resistance to fire damage, and Infernal Legacy grants you a few innate spells which I’ll cover in the build.

ABILITY SCORES

15; DEXTERITY - You’re an anime sword boy who was second best only to your brother who is the most anime sword boy who ever did swing an anime sword.

14; CHARISMA - As the more level-headed brother you had to do most of the talking. Remember that Charisma is strength of personality; not raw attractiveness. (Though you certainly have that going for you too.)

13; INTELLIGENCE - A master swordsman needs to study the art of war, which is more theory and less art. (Feel free to set your CON higher instead if you want more health.)

12; WISDOM - Yasuo’s the hothead and you’re the calm one. Not calm enough not to try to kill your brother, and definitely not calm enough to not be a target for Asakana.

10; CONSTITUTION - You died before, and dying generally means you weren’t that sturdy to begin with.

8; STRENGTH - Being cut down by the legendary wind technique and then brought back from the dead doesn’t spell a good workout routine. Yeah Yone has big pecs but put simply we need everything else more.

BACKGROUND

You had a background before, but unfortunately dead men tell no tales. You are a Haunted One brought back to life to hunt the creatures of the night. You can choose two skills from the Haunted One list to be proficient in: Investigation will help you find any stray Asakana, and depending on if your definition of emotional demons are Religion or Arcana you can pick either of those for your second skill. (Arcana is probably going to be more useful though.)

As a Haunted One people can easily see into your Heart of Darkness, easily telling that you’ve faced unimaginable horrors in your past. No shit you have a demon mask permanently attached to your face. Regardless commoners will be willing to aid you as much as possible unless you’ve shown yourself to be openly hostile, such as throwing their promo games.

You also learn two languages of your choice: one of which must be Exotic but since you already know Infernal as a Tiefling Sylvan would be good to talk to the spirits in a dating sim. For your other language Elvish seems fitting for Ionia.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

THE PATH BUILD

LEVEL 1 - ROGUE 1

Perhaps not the most fitting for the honorable brother, but being a Rogue will give us the skill to strike swiftly. As well as more skills in general! Take Perception and Insight to find Asakana, Acrobatics to fight them, and Intimidation to strike fear into their hearts. You also get Expertise in two skills your proficient in: Investigation and Perception would help further with finding Asakana.

When you find the Asakana you can strike it down with Sneak Attack. If you have Advantage on an attack roll or are attacking an enemy within 5 feet of an ally you can do an extra d6 of damage. Despite the name “sneak attack” you don’t actually have to sneak, but you do need to use a Finesse weapon such as a short sword. Yes your swords aren’t exactly “short” but for the purposes of dual wielding it’s the best you’ll get.

And after striking the demon down you might need to speak its true name in Thieves’ Cant. That’s not what Thieves’ Cant is? Well regardless it’s a code language shared among rogues; perhaps you picked it up from the Navori? At least you can shout the demon’s name loud and proud as you seal it away thanks to Tiefling Thaumaturgy, along with all other sorts of little supernatural effects I suggest reading into.

LEVEL 2 - ROGUE 2

At level 2 Rogues get Cunning Action to Dash, Disengage, or Hide as a bonus action. Hiding isn’t very in-character but being able to move swiftly across the battlefield is key for the twin blade technique. Unfortunately attacking with a twin blade also requires your bonus action, so pace your movements accordingly.

LEVEL 3 - ROGUE 3

Level 3 Rogues get to choose their Martial Archetype and in order to strike swift and true you’re going to want to play a Swashbuckler. Swashbucklers get Fancy Footwork to be able to slip away from enemies they attacked without provoking opportunity attacks, even if they miss.

Additionally they get Rakish Audacity which ironically provides two benefits: for one you get to add your Charisma modifier to your initiate, but you can also activate your sneak attack if you strike an enemy in melee with no other enemies nearby. Single the demon out and cut them down now that your Sneak Attack does 2d6 damage!

And finally you can cast Hellish Rebuke at second level as a reaction once per long rest thanks to Infernal Legacy. Strike a ganking lust demon with a big burst of “BEGONE THOT” damage!

LEVEL 4 - FIGHTER 1

Adding a quick level in Fighter because Yone was professionally trained, so a Fighting Style would be good to have. Naturally we’ll be going for Two-Weapon Fighting to fight with twin blades. You also get Second Wind to heal for a d10 plus your Fighter level once per short rest for a quick Corrupting Pot in lane.

But unfortunately now we’re going to have to die...

(Artwory by KAIZERS02 on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 5 - WARLOCK 1

Just kidding of course because it’s ya boii coming back with the WARLOCK LEVELS! You can choose your Warlock Patron straight at level 1 and as someone who came back from the dead you may think we’ll be going for the Undying patron right? Well that’s where you’re dead wrong because we’re going for a pact with a Fiend.

Why Fiend Patron? - Along with the lore reasons (not all Warlock pacts have to be made on good terms) Pact of the Fiend gives us Dark One’s Blessing to recreate the shield from Spirit Cleave (W), and Burning Hands also gives us an easy-to-use cone spell to recreate a cone-shaped cleave.

Why not Undying? - Undying has a pseudo-support role and a heavy focus on not dying, neither of which Yone does in-game.

Why not Hexblade? - We need at least 12 levels in Warlock for an invocation, and that means we’d be getting Accursed Specter from Hexblade. Yone doesn’t summon spirits to fight for him and while I could normally get past that bit of flavor fail (as both Hexblade’s Curse and Armor of Hexes actually make a lot of sense for Yone) Fiend made a lot more sense given that he literally gets his powers from a demon. A DEX build also allows you to be shirtless in Ionia.

Pact of the Fiend Warlocks have the Dark One’s Blessing, granting them temporary hitpoints equal to their Charisma modifier and their Warlock level when they down an enemy for some spiritual shielding.

Additionally Warlocks gain access to Pact Magic. You learn two cantrips from the Warlock list: Minor Illusion creates a sound or small visual you can use to trick an Asakana into falling for a trap. And Toll the Dead isn’t Eldritch Blast! Excluding the war crimes I just committed by not putting Eldritch Blast on a Warlock (you’re going to be using your swords most of the time anyways get over it it’s one spell) Toll the Dead forces the enemy to make a Wisdom save or take a d8 Necrotic damage, or a d12 Necrotic if they’re injured, making it a great finishing blow after using Soul Unbound.

You can also learn two first level spells: Burning Hands forces enemies to make a Dexterity saving throw or be Spirit Cleaved for 3d6 fire damage. If you want to mark an enemy for Soul Unbound however Hex will let you do an extra d6 of necrotic damage every hit, and give an enemy disadvantage on skill checks related to an ability score of your choice. You can also cast the Darkness spell once per long rest as a Tiefling, blinding everyone in the 20 foot sphere of darkness. If only you could see through it...

LEVEL 6 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlocks get Eldritch Invocations and we actually won’t be taking the one that helps us see in the dark. We will however be taking Armor of Shadows to let us cast Mage Armor at will and go shirtless in Ionia. Your second invocation will remain empty for now.

You can also add another spell to your repertoire and Protection from Evil and Good will help a lot with fighting Asakana. A creature blessed by the spell is attacked with disadvantage by aberrations, celestials, elementals, fey, fiends, and undead. Additionally they can’t be charmed, frightened, or possessed by them. If they’re already debuffed by these types of enemies they have advantage on future saving throws against them. Once you know the truth of Asakana there is no reason to fear them... or some other edgy one liner.

LEVEL 7 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks get their Pact Boon and hey look it’s Pact of the Blade. You can create a magic weapon in your hand as an action. The weapon counts as being magical to overcome armadillos who say “okay” a lot. And you know that Invocation I told you to hold off on? Improved Pact Weapon will let you do more damage with the blade of the Asakana. If you want to remain in character I’d suggest only attacking with your pact weapon in your offhand, but remember that Two-Weapon Fighting takes your Bonus Action so feel free to hit hard and then run if needed.

You can also now cast second level spells like Misty Step for some sick plays with Flash.

LEVEL 8 - WARLOCK 4

Fourth level Warlocks finally get an Ability Score Improvement: increase your Dexterity by 2 for swifter and deadlier strikes with your twin blades. Could we take a feat? Yeah, but we won’t.

You also learn another cantrip at this level on top of another spell. For your cantrip Prestidigitation will further your ability to cast small spiritual magic, and for your spell of choice we already got flash so how about Ray of Enfeeblement for Exhaust? There’s a lot of other great options though: Blindness / Deafness from the Fiend list is also a great choice.

LEVEL 9 - FIGHTER 2

Second level Fighters get Action Surge, allowing them to take one additional action on their turn. Right now that only means one extra sword swing but you can cast a spell after you attack!

LEVEL 10 - FIGHTER 3

At level 3 Fighters can choose their Martial Archetype and to unbind one’s soul you must travel to the world of Wildemount for the Echo Knight subclass. I’ve already made a few Echo Knights before on this sub so I’m going to give the cliffnotes version of a class that has quite a long ability description at level 3 for Manifest Echo:

You can summon your soul within 15 feet of you as a bonus action.

You can move your soul up to 30 feet for free on your turn.

Your soul can’t be more than 30 feet away from you by the end of your turn, or else it disappears. (Goes back to your body)

Your soul has an AC of 14 + proficiency and 1 hitpoint.

It’s immune to all conditions and uses your saving throws.

You can swap places with your soul using 15 feet of movement (regardless of the distance between you two.)

When you attack you can make the attack come from your soul instead.

Your soul can opportunity attack (using your reaction.)

Additionally Unleash Incarnation will let you attack an extra time from your soul’s location on your turn. You can use it a number of times equal to your Constitution modifier but your CON mod is currently zero. Thankfully you can use it a minimum of one time before finishing a long rest.

(Artwork by Valkhar on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 11 - FIGHTER 4

Fourth level Fighters get an Ability Score Improvement: invest further in Dexterity for 19 DEX and all the benefits that provides.

LEVEL 12 - FIGHTER 5

5th level Fighters get an Extra Attack, letting them attack twice with their main action. This means that with your bonus action you can attack three times in a round! Now would also probably be a good time to put the Asakana’s blade in your main hand instead of trying to work around your fancy passive.

LEVEL 13 - WARLOCK 5

It’s straight down Warlock now to become one with the Asakana we wear as a mask. Level 5 Warlocks get another Invocation and it wouldn’t be Pact of the Blade if we didn’t take both Improved Pact Weapon and Eldritch Smite! Pretend to be a Paladin by turning a spell slot into more sword damage and pretend to be your brother by knocking people over when you do so!

You can also learn another spell like Gaseous Form to turn into petals on the wind. Additionally Hex is probably wearing away its welcome by this point so I’d suggest taking Hold Person instead to CC-chain a foe to death.

LEVEL 14 - WARLOCK 6

6th level Fiend Warlocks get Dark One’s Own Luck, letting them add a d10 to an ability check or saving throw once per short or long rest. I consider this less you being “lucky” and more you going all out just this once.

You can also learn another spell from the Warlock list such as Spirit Shroud from Unearthed Arcana to give nearby enemies a Randuin's Omen while you cut them down.

LEVEL 15 - WARLOCK 7

7th level Warlocks get another Invocation and while there are plenty to choose from it’s only fair for the man who collects masks of many faces to get a Mask of Many Faces, allowing you to cast Disguise Self at will! Is this mostly done for flavor and is it a bit late to get Disguise Self? Yes but it’s still a very good spell to have.

And you can learn a 4th level spell like Fire Shield from the Fiend List. You can make a Fire Shield for resistance to Cold damage or a Cold Shield to resist Fire damage which you already resist. But regardless of your choice anyone who hits you with a melee attack for the duration will take 2d8 damage of either Fire (if you chose the Fire Shield) or Cold (if you chose the other.)

Also I’d perhaps suggest replacing Misty Step with Dimension Door? Sure Dimension Door takes a full action (while Misty Step takes a bonus action) but Dimension Door has a 500 foot range which will never not be useful! Teleport can be just as useful as Flash you know.

LEVEL 16 - WARLOCK 8

8th level Warlocks get another Ability Score Improvement: put one into Dexterity and the other one into... yeah Charisma. You also could learn another spell but none of these really interest me so I suggest holding off on it for now.

(Artwork by MizuriOfficial on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 17 - WARLOCK 9

9th level Warlocks get another Invocation, and while again there’s plenty to choose from we strive for accuracy here so how about some spiritual levitation? Ascendant Step lets you cast Levitate on yourself without using a spell slot or material components, so you can float towards a wise old man who definitely isn’t an Asakana in disguise.

But most importantly you now gain access to 5th level spells! Hallow is a big spell with a lot of effects, a 1000 gold cost, and a 24 hour casting time but it’s the ultimate way to protect an area from Asakana! To seal the fate of your foes Synaptic Static forces an intelligence saving throw on all enemies in an AoE to try to avoid massive damage along with a disorientation effect that tends to come with being knocked up into the air by a tornado.

LEVEL 18 - WARLOCK 10

10th level Fiend Warlocks get Fiendish Resilience, allowing them to resist one type of damage of their choosing. They can swap the resistance out on a short or long rest but damage from magic weapons or silvered weapons ignores this resistance, so probably better just to resist wind magic (Thunder damage) in general instead of specifically resisting a magic wind sword.

Additionally while you won’t learn any more Warlock spells you do get your final cantrip: for some more minor spirit projection how about Mage Hand to grab things within 30 feet and bring them to you?

LEVEL 19 - WARLOCK 11

11th level Warlocks get Mystic Arcanum, which are like regular spell slots which only come back after a long rest because you’re no longer special. Regardless if you want to harness the wind technique look no further than Investiture of Wind Stone, because the rock spell actually lets you knock people over.

Regardless until the spell ends you have resistance to nonmagical slashing, piercing, and bludgeoning, you can move across difficult terrain without spending additional movement, you can move through terrain without spending extra movement (but can’t end your turn there), and you can spend your action to try to knock everyone near you over with some basic wind techniques.

Yes there are better spells to take (even in the Investiture spell line, such as the genuine Investiture of Wind which would let you fly as well as block projectiles with a wind wall of your own) but you’re not your brother. You’re a simple, practical stone who gets the job done. Or you can be a wandering poet: make your own Yone - you don’t follow this build point-for-point.

You also apparently get another spell because Mystic Arcanum doesn’t count as a spell? Hold Monster is like Hold Person but it works against everything at the mere cost of a much higher spell slot, meaning that you can only affect one creature with parallelization but that should be more than enough for your little brother to get the job done and flash his fancy blue crest afterwards. You do have three spell slots now after all.

LEVEL 20 - WARLOCK 12

12th level Warlocks get our final Ability Score Improvement and... ugh. As much as I want to do something fun I have to accept the fact that Charisma will help us more, so you may as well grab the Resilient Feat with Charisma for better saving throws and a higher Charisma mod.

But that Charisma mod is going to get a lot of use since now you can take the Lifedrinker invocation which grants the Asakana’s blade Necrotic damage equal to your Charisma modifier! That’s a lot of damage? How much damage? Well...

FINAL BUILD

PROS

One to cut, one to seal - Let’s do the math for how much damage you do with your swords every round: two strikes from the Asakana’s blade (d6 + 6 slashing + 4 necrotic), one from your regular sword (d6 + 5), and sneak attack damage (2d6) for a total of... 5d6 + 25 damage (8 of it being Necrotic and the rest being Slashing) every round. Not to mention Eldritch Smites in a pinch and a large assortment of spells.

Fear, once named, controls no one - You are also incredibly elusive with 18 AC and strong saving throws. Swashbuckler lets you get into the fight fast and get out before your enemy has a chance to react, and cunning actions let you weave around the battlefield as you see fit. To top it off Echo Knight levels let you attack your foes without even being near them! "Cross the veil!"

Wear a mask long enough, and you forget the face beneath - You have a great deal of out-of-combat utility too. Language proficiencies (along with Thieves’ Cant), skill proficiencies (including expertise in two very important skills 23 passive perception, anyone?) Thieves’ Tools, several utility spells which you can cast pretty much at will, not to mention the utility of near-infinite teleportation and flat out infinite levitation.

CONS

Blink, and you'll miss your own death - Between two-weapon fighting, cunning action, and interactions with your echo there’s such a thing as too many bonus actions.

Do not wish to hide behind masks - There’s also such a thing as being too elusive. Swashbuckler gives you plenty of mobility as does Echo Knight, but putting them together means that you’ll be everywhere at once.

Are you here to usher me back? - Multiclassing a spellsword means that you miss out on some vital ability score increases. This means your Charisma isn’t topped off, the saving throws you aren’t proficient in are subpar at best, and your health is just barely over the Power Word Kill threshold.

But a hunter with many weapons will always have the right one to catch its prey. Lure out the Asakana and strike them down. Just remember that even if you alone can stop the demonic plague you don’t have to work alone. Your brother may have struck you down but if you learn to forgive the Asakana will be a lot weaker. "Long before blades and sorcery are needed, words... can save a soul."

(Artwork by @ThatwasforZED on Twitter)

#DnD 5e #dnd #dnd build #dnd guide #dnd warlock #dnd fighter #dnd rogue #league of legends #League of Legends Yone #League of Legends Yasuo #anime #weeb #demon hunter

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dnd5a · 3 years

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Chronicle Entry LC515 – 31/08/1202: Heroes

This Chronicle entry, recorded by Senior Officer Pale, recounts his experiences with the recent attack on the Astral Fortress

After some degree of pestering from a multitude of both my betters and adjacents alike, I have decided it best to recount my actions from the attack from some weeks ago.

I was already awake when the attack started, making personal notes of my studies. The crash resounded throughout the building, sending rubble flying all about the place. The wall opposite myself collapsed, covering by wardrobe in, at minimum, two-hundred pounds of rubble. Arguably the best possible outcome, as were it destroyed, we would have some 379 undead clawing their way across the fortress.

An enormous, white, scaly leg stood atop the ruins, before a howling wind filled my ears and a biting frost caught me. A quick assessment proved that this situation was A) involving a white dragon, and B) bad.

I always have a contingency plan for all manner of things, attacks on the fortress included, and whilst I was not specifically prepared for an ancient dragon, the general plan still applies. Gather my juniors, make for the Bridge Between Worlds, and operate it for an escape. This assumes that fighting is not an option, which give the following assessments, makes that assumption applicable:

The surprise nature of the attack.

Milk’s habit of late-sleeping and need for prayer to prepare her magics.

Frostbite’s rather obvious repertoire of spells.

Twist’s lack of ability to deal with flying enemies.

Huck’s general inexperience with combating nonhumanoid opponents.

Whilst there are a variety of reasonable points to contradict this assessment, I had only the time for half a debate with myself before I was to be pulverised by several dozen-tonne dragon, so understandably I went with my initial conjecture.

Pushing my way out of the front door, I could see several severely injured senior officers laid in the halls. I hadn’t my usual undead entourage, nor my case, and thus any attempts to rescue these individuals would’ve simply resulted in another corpse, that being my own.

Once outside and thoroughly out of breath, I could see the full scale of the beast, and my calculations were reasonably accurate. It was some 64 feet snout to tail-tip, and likely weighed in excess of 29 tons. I must give some credit to the building’s designer, as even whilst structurally compromised, to say the least, it held it shape quite remarkably.

As predicted, my junior officers had successfully followed my escape plan, and were able to meet myself at the end of Argentum Row, all bar Huck.

___

“Took you long enough,” Call remarked.

Call has always been difficult. We don’t often see eye to eye much down to that reason.

“I’m terribly sorry, I was too busy almost being crushed by an ancient dragon,” I replied. Somewhat unnecessarily aggressive, I understand, but my faculties were not quite up to standard in that moment.

Milk cut in, a stammering shiver to her voice “Have you seen Huck?”

“I have not, no. I had a feeling the boy wouldn’t be able to keep up with the plan.”

“A shame,” Frostbite said, a smirk to his sunken, skeletal face, “may he rest in peace, I suppose.”

“He most certainly shall not!” Milk snapped. A rare sight, but proof of her integrity. “We have to go back for him. He’s just a boy!”

“T-then a boy he shall die! I’ve no patience for his idiocy.” Frostbite replied, somewhat disarmed by Milk’s aggression.

___

Now, I have received much criticism in the past for my apparent, ‘cowardice,’ from within the company and without. However, I raise that much of this criticism has come from so-called ‘heroes,’ fools who jaunt their way into mortal danger for some nebulous ‘greater good,’ only to die like fools.

Heroism is a convenient luxury for some, those with the tenacity to be struck down and stand again. Whilst many members of this company would likely call themselves heroes, or at least aspire to be one, I would counter that they are simply blessed with the fortitude to be a fool with little consequence. I have no such fortitude, and thereby I have no time to be a hero. The boy, Huck, is a fine young man and an upstanding soldier, but I will not die for him. I came here to live, and thus I refuse to die on any but my own terms.

___

“Please Pale, we have to help him.” Milk implored, ignoring Frostbite’s provocation.

“I agree. He might just be held up somewhere, and if we can help him, then it’s worth the time,” Call agreed, looking off towards the carnage.

___

They were fools. We were underprepared. I had few spells and no servants, Milk was very likely without spells entirely, and Call quite possibly was too. I was half-considering simply grabbing them all and leaving.

___

We argued for another 10 seconds, before falling rubble forced us to move some 21 paces east. When we stopped, Twist finally spoke up.

“I have his scent, he’s close.” She showed little emotion on her face, but her nose had a very consistent success rate of some 98%.

“If he’s close, we can save him!” Milk shouted. She was crying now, and whilst that was not uncommon, nor did it have much affect on my views, her crying would certainly impact her concentration on the task at hand.

“Fine. We will fetch the boy.”

“I knew you were good,” Milk sobbed, rushing forward and invading my personal space with an embrace. She knows it very much makes me uncomfortable, yet she does it anyway.

“I’m going to disagree with you there, but regardless, can you please stop so we can move. We’ve been stood around for some twenty seconds now and any longer will spell our deaths.”

___

We raced towards the junior officer’s quarters, Twist transforming into her alternate form to improve her scent-trailing abilities. We moved passed many dead, and witnessed the likes of Feather and Whisper attempting to face the dragon head on.

See my latter analysis for the opinion I hold of their behaviour.

Upon arrival, with aid from Twist pulling rubble away, we found Huck, unconscious and bloody in the rubble. I checked him briefly. His wounds were largely superficial, but the head trauma he had suffered could be serious.

I hadn’t the time to check him over again before a great wave of frost filled the street behind us. It would have hit us too were it not for Call. He took the brunt of the assault, before collapsing on the ground, his hands quickly blackening.

“I told you this was suicide. Just be glad that wasn’t us.” Frostbite chuckled.

With a swift crack and a loud crunch, Frostbite was sent reeling to the floor. Milk stood, based on the sound and the blood, one to two of her knuckles clearly broken, before rushing to Call’s side.

As Twist hoisted Huck onto her back and Call laid on the ground, minutes away from losing his arms to the cold, I had to make a decision.

Mustering my most powerful magics, I opened a gateway to a demiplane on a nearby wall. This was to be my final escape plan if all went wrong, but I had a different idea.

___

“Milk, I need you to bring Huck and Call inside. Frostbite, move people in the street towards the entrance, they’ll be safe in here. Twist, go back to my apartment and fetch my case. We’re turning this demiplane into a medical centre.”

___

I spent the remainder of the time inside the demiplane. The dragon came for us on a number of occasions, but by that point we had people to defend the entrance and stop it from collapsing, but it was still risky. If the demiplane collapsed, we would all be trapped, permanently, but it was a gamble I was willing to take. As to why I was willing, I am unsure. Perhaps I’ve been exposed to so many fools with illusions of heroic grandeur that they’ve started to rub off of on me. Whilst it’s improbable, Milk certainly seems to think that’s the case.

I treated the dying and the dead, some being individuals I knew. Not something I wasn’t used to, but an unpleasant experience for Milk, no doubt.

In conclusion, the attack took place over less than 20 minutes, giving me more than enough time to vacate the demiplane with my patients in toe before it collapsed. Huck has suffered a severe concussion, but it seems to have inflicted no lasting damage, whilst our timely medical attention has saved Call’s hands, though has put him out of commission for some weeks at minimum.

I am no hero, nor would I ever aspire to be one, but I can provide assistance were appropriate and reasonable. Milk insists that makes me one, but written definition shows that it requires a ‘compulsive bravery,’ that analytic rationality would quash.

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konohagakurekakashi · 4 years

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Tagged by @minaa-munch via this here post

(Mattaku...)

Tagging: Anyone who wants to, seeing as everyone I know has probably done this already.

Five Things About the Muse:

• Kakashi doesn’t make a conscious effort to be late to his summons and appointments. This is evident in the fact that he has always been an early riser. Time just has a way of always running ahead of him without his knowing; his mind always pondering a great number of things all at once, thus turning an unconscious gesture into a bad habit.

• His favourite colour is green.

• Though he is most definitely a dog person, he often leaves a handful of egg-biscuits on his windowsill for the stray cat that often rubbed its furry body along his glass pane whenever Kakashi wasn’t away on a mission (in fact it was almost like the neko had a “Kakashi present!” sensor amidst its whiskers, the thought was definitely endearing.)

• Kakashi’s favourite of the Five Shinobi Arts has always been Ninjutsu, despite his meagre Chakra reserves and he constantly strives to better the Elemental Jutsu already within his repertoire.

• Despite his cool/aloof front, Kakashi is actually quite emotional for a shinobi and often has trouble cloaking his embarrassment/annoyance/amusement. Thus the mask which hides his features from view is as much of a necessity, as it is a barrier from his past.

Five Things About the Mun:

• In contrast to the muse I am always early for everything. I hate being late, even if only by a few seconds.

• My favourite colour is red.

• English is not my first language, in fact it’s more of a third additional language- Though I won’t deny that it’s always been my favourite.

• I have a pet tortoise with the temperament of one Uchiha Sasuke where affection is concerned. Despite his Glower Jutsu I still think that he’s the most precious, shell baby in all of existence whom only deserves A-Grade succulents and tomatoes. <3

• Certified Coffee Addict™

#konohagakurekakashi #Hatake Kakashi [The Scarecrow]#Character Study #character aestetic #Get to know the Muse #Get to know the Mun #Dash Games #Kakashi Things #FS Things

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venuskind · 4 years

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Masculine Leadership and Feminine Submission⠀ ⠀ It is so compelling to let someone else take the lead and surrender or take the position of leadership and dominate. After all the journey has been long and we had to fight and work hard on our own and feel depleted or tired or felt disempowered and unacknowledged and will grasp at any chance to leave that behind.⠀ ⠀ When I look at it closely and feel into my response, I hear the voice of the wounded child that wants to be nurtured and taken care of resonate with my pull to accommodate this narrative. I see the aspect of self that is lazy and wants things handed to it instead of creating and working for them resonate with this. I sense the appeal to my masculine to take its "rightful" position of leadership, the promise of empowerment reverberating in it. The validation of "I know best" that the ego holds, the illusory promise and feel of "right order of things" hailing from millennia of conditioned gender roles and narratives. I see residual and persistent thought forms, emotive responses and beliefs arising from patriarchal romantic conditionings resonate with it.⠀ ⠀ And so I sit in silence and let the narrative of the leading masculine and surrendered feminine hover in space as my awareness illuminates it to know its nature, level of truthfulness and distortion. Drawing on eclectic spiritual teachings, knowing, insights, sensed and felt experiences with both energies my observations are combined and recombined with these to illumine and distill more of the underlying patterns, energies and archetypal forces at play in this narrative and in the seeding, enforcing and amplification of this new agey subgroup of patriarchal gender narratives.⠀ ⠀ I sense the overlay and undercurrent of history and the affinity of the ego to recreate the past in its mistaken idea of safety.I recognize the blindness towards the nature and quality of both energy signatures arising from matrix conditioning, incapable of perceiving the reality of the energy while the mind keeps projecting and overlaying it with subconsciously held narratives of masculinity and femininity. I see how entrancing and actively resistant these narratives are to the perception of existence beyond the concepts of the matrix or even imagination beyond the entrenched narratives which are heavily protected by weaponized cognitive dissonances. From the detachment of a higher vantage point of perception, i.e. beyond self-identification and its limiting factors, this is quite amusing to observe. A highly intelligent and deceptive virus (patriarchy) adept at adapting to and defeating his hosts immune system strategies by making the immune system believe it is part of its defense and serving the wellbeing of the host. It is fascinating and entertaining, I can see why consciousness chooses to play at this in so many variations, layers and dimensions. From my blended perception, i.e. from a union of human and higher Self perception, I lean towards wanting to engage with more reality and leave the games of egoic illusions, archetypal storylines, wars over layers of the matrix artifice behind me. These games feel exhausting, futile, senseless, destructive, stale and repetitive. I want more, I want different, something new. I now operate more and more from the knowing of my essential conscious/divine/energetic nature. My practice of making more time for being in that nature and experiencing life from that state is shedding layers upon layers of conditioning, ancestral and karmic burdens of distortions and allows me to clear my eyes, heart and mind to perceive life anew. To dream of bringing into being new and more joyful ways of perceiving, making sense, relating, creating and being on this planet and with all that is. Rehashing old games of duality, gender oppositions, disempowering relational dynamics, pigeonholing ourselves in ever more fragmented identities, beliefs, opinions and groups is a slow and painful path to walk from where I perceive things. Nonetheless, I respect people's choices to experience life in that way. We came here to experience life in individual ways which serve and grow our soul's journey and ultimately the evolution and self-exploration of divine consciousness and I wouldn't want to stand in the way of that. I am all for exploring and playing with power dynamics in life, relating and creating. I don't mind being in a submissive role or a dominant role. But that is all it can be for me: a role I choose to play with awareness, not who I am. I AM so much more than the narrow definition of the feminine or masculine in the new age mindset or current narrative spin. I AM all, I can embody all traits, roles, expressions and play with all. As can everyone else. Why limit myself to a stale overplayed repertoire when I came here to drink experience to my fill? There is so much the new age propagandists don't seem to understand about the way the feminine and masculine energies work together or what the hieros gamos feels like when embodied. The idea that "one leads and the other follows" is painfully colored by patriarchal dominator thinking and cannot even come close to fathom the beauty of how the union of masculine and feminine expresses, feels, senses and vibrates. There is no leadership in union. Who is there to be lead and who can lead in oneness? What is this foolish nonsense we are being served up if not the regurgitation of old paradigm thinking? If you have experienced and felt the union of masculine & feminine within, you will know the numinous nature of the union and how it creates and acts, which defy words and explanations as we lack proper concepts and words to hope to express it even in the vaguest terms. Similar observations can be made in the experience of union between self and higher Self. There is still so much we have to EXPERIENCE for ourselves to truly KNOW about reality. Higher experiences defy the limitations of our current perceptions, thinking, culture, norms, languages and modes of communication. The invitation I extend to those who are willing to read, listen and reflect upon this is to explore new paths and pioneer novel, playful, expansive explorations beyond the pitiful and limited archetypal narratives humanity has been handing their power over to for millennia. Join us in owning our quantum consciousness nature and let us play outside the limiting normativity and prescriptivity that some try to lord over our minds, hearts and bodies. Let us strip off the narratives, identifications and labels that make us susceptible to the allure of their cat's gold of matrix fueled illusions and let us alchemize real gold of consciousness with Spirit. There is so much more to explore, be, learn, create, experience, share, give, receive and become one with. Let us not settle for less than our soul's and consciousness are capable and hungry for! With love and blessings to all ways of dancing the dance of consciousness. Art by Unknown Source: https://venuskind.de/2020/02/masculine-and-feminine/ https://www.instagram.com/p/B8ezke1oVhK/?igshid=1exilwu6q5mth

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jacereviews · 5 years

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Review: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse

Theatrical Showing

Spider-Man has had a good year. While I can’t speak from a comic perspective, as a multimedia star he’s had quite the run. Many people are in love with Tom Holland’s portrayal of him in the MCU and his starring role in Avengers: Infinity War. Marvel’s Spider-Man for the PS4 is (allegedly) fantastic and even got a game of the year nomination. So here we are, last month of 2018 with one more Spider-Man. I’ve heard many people complain about Spider-Man movie fatigue, so is yet another new Spider-Man worth it? Let’s Rock. STORY: Peter Parker’s career as Spider-Man is at its peak. You know the stories, we all do. This isn’t Peter Parker’s story however. Miles Morales is moving to a new elite high school, the son of a cop and a nurse, he lives in a New York where Spider-Man is swinging up and down the roads. However an incident with a mysterious spider bite pulls him into the world of heroes, a world shaken up by the Kingpin trying to break down the walls between dimensions. Thrown into chaos, Miles must work with those brought in from other dimensions to try to restore order and figure out what it means to be Spider-Man. This shouldn’t and probably won’t be your first Spider-Man movie. It references a lot of Spider-Man culture and is a fanservice romp for long time fans, yet is still a refreshing tale. The plot isn’t particularly deep or complex, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s simple, yet effective. Going through the logical order of a superhero story, yet packing some surprises along the way. I want to give bonus points for the story being told in a way that’s aware of the trailers and intentionally tries to subvert some preconceptions established by the trailers. While I may not be able to give this much credit on originality or freshness, I can compliment the ability of the story to deliver the emotional payoffs it needs. Some of the harder hitting moments are done fantastically and work within the simplicity of the tale. Story-wise I think my only real complaint was the climax being a bit too straightforward. The way the story is told shines brightly though, especially in its use of spider-man tropes and parallels. Since my format doesn’t have a spot for it, I’ll go ahead and discuss the humor and comedy here. The movie can be damn funny when it wants to be, not only in simple jokes, but in twisting expectations, pop culture comedy, and a lot of inside jokes for spider-man fans. The gag character of Spider-Ham manages to stay amusing throughout the whole film and never gets grating.

8/10. Simple yet effectively told. Also funi movie make me laugh.

CHARACTERS: Let’s start with Miles himself. He’s discontent with his new high school, trying to flunk out so he can move back in with the people. He’s got some issues with his family, mostly looking up to his Uncle Aaron, who’s not always on the good side of the law. While like Peter Parker he’s got a good brain and some social troubles, he’s less of a nerd wish fulfillment type. His dynamic with his Dad and Uncle is unique from Parker and is a strong point throughout the movie. While not shockingly new or interesting, Miles is a strong central character. The other spiders are also strong. Peter B. Parker is a late career Spider-Man, one movies never show us. He’s arguably washed up and the constant life toll of Spider-Man has clearly gotten to him. I found this take to be rather unique, and also relatable as we see the youths around him reminding him of what he once was. While some people may not like his negativity, I found him to be rather engaging as the group senior. Gwen Stacy brings the main cast into an effective trio. Being slightly older than Miles, she’s got a good dynamic of banter with him despite her claim to not keeping friends. She’s pretty prominent in action scenes and in general has a strong energy that puts her in the movie spotlight. While I can’t claim she has too much interesting going on, I think in large part that’s simply because it isn’t her movie. As for the other 3 spiders, they feel like a lower tier in prominence. While there, they don’t have much individual bits outside of their backstories (which get told together.) Peni and Noir were quite interesting, and I honestly felt like we really just didn’t get enough of them. If I can claim any problem here, it’s a utilization issue, but that’s something to be expected out of a one off movie. You can’t give every character the full spotlight they could use. As far as villains go the only one I can really discuss is the Kingpin. While maybe not needed, the movie did go the extra mile to give him a borderline sympathetic backstory. I was a fan of how his story kind of paralleled miles with his downfall being his inability to learn from his mistakes. All in all a pretty strong cape movie villain even if he’s not my favorite Kingpin. I also want to give a shout-out to this movie’s Aunt May. Being a spider-veteran she’s just freaking awesome in this film.

7/10. Some nice ideas and strong characters. Any real complaints are kinda inherent to the medium.

VISUALS: Oh boy is this a treat. I feel like the real appeal of the movie is the frankly amazing art direction. Pretty much every aspect is spot-on. The framing, design, movement, colors, etc. I can just keep singing the praises of this film. Miles’ street art is taken full advantage of. The use of the dimension clashing is rendered in some gorgeous design. The City at Night is rendered in some gorgeous neon colors and the costumes pop. I love how some of the characters from other timelines come in their own distinct art styles. The visual storytelling here is also amazingly done. The scene where Miles leaps from the skyscraper as a full Spider-Man, yet glass sticking to his fingers is an amazing scene. The comic book aesthetic of displaying internal thoughts and backstories is also super nice. I could keep going on but basically it all boils down to YES! YES! YES! The only real complaint I can muster is I noticed when the frame rate would change and that was kind of jarring.

10/10, Why would you do something in animation when live action is more accessible? Because you can get art design like this!

SOUND: I went in expecting the movie to look as good as it did, I didn’t expect it to sound this good. The music track is full of bops, and not just the non-diegetic tracks but the diegetic ones too. This movie makes near perfect use of both diegetic and non-diegetic music for some absolutely amazing effect. I want this soundtrack! The voice acting was also on point. Everyone sounded great and it all came together nicely. Specific shout-out to John Mulaney as Spider-Ham for sounding the Loony Tunes part. The sound effects flowed perfectly, this isn’t a movie to just see, but to listen to.

9/10, the only faults I could really come up with are things that I’d have to set aside for an album review of the OST, and that’s one hell of a compliment.

FINAL SCORE: 9/10

This isn’t just another Spider-Man movie. It’s a Spider-Man movie for those who’ve seen too many Spider-Man movies. It’s one of the best comic book movies in a world too full of them. Not only that it’s a case study in aesthetic utilization, the art and sound design are beyond on point. It takes full advantage of the animated medium to be as visually unique as it can be in the best of ways. It’s a full recommendation not only for superhero and animation fans, but for any fan of film. While this could be your first spider-man film, I’d definitely recommend watching it with more familiarity of the character and his lore. All in all one of the best animated films in the west, and one hell of an entry in the repertoire of a character dominating the media world. PS: This movie wishes you a Merry Christmas!

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#spiderman #spiderverse #movie #animation #spidergwen #spider-man #spider-man: into the spider-verse #review #marvel #comic movies #capeshit #super hero #superhero #spider-parker

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eurosong · 5 years

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Undo my ESC - 2019, SF1

Hello there, folks, and welcome to the first part of Undo my ESC, where I take a look at the field this year and, for each country, make a feasible change – as small as, for example, minor tinkerings with the staging, or as big as a different song completely winning a national final. It’s all light-hearted and just my opinion, of course. Allons-y... Cyprus: We start off completely in the deep end. I loathe “Fuego”, and this repackaged Fue2.0 is no better and is indeed perhaps worse to me given that I hate desperate attempts to catch lightning in the same jar. I also find Tamta a very unsympathetic character. I don’t know what I’d do to improve this, other than replace the internal selection with a national final with some songs actually in Greek and with local character. Montenegro: Things do not improve... but at least the solution is easier! Montenegro had a decent national final in which literally any other song would have been a better choice. I particularly liked “Nevinost”, and so did the unfortunately out-voted expert jury, so would be tempted to give D mol’s ticket to Tel Aviv to its artist, Ivana Popović, instead. I do find D mol to be sweet kids though, so the other part of me would be sad to rob them of their time in the limelight and would instead have taken the 90s throwback and bizarre random background sound elements out of their song, replaced the score with one that emphasised the traditional musical elements, and kept the lyrics in Montenegrin.

Finland: Three strikes and I am almost out. I really struggle with the new UMK format – I understand the logic behind it, just as I did when it was a thing in the UK in the early 90s, but I think it only really works if an artist has a wide-ranging repertoire. If not, then you end up with 3 samey songs that only appeal to people who like the music styles that artist makes. I’m not an EDM fan and I would have taken the relative flop of Saara Aalto last year as indication to return to a multi-artist UMK. Plenty of artists from previous years who could be worth a spot in one such.

Poland: I was disappointed by the disappearance of Poland’s national final, but I can’t say I was too surprised after a few underperforming years. I have to commend the Polish broadcasters for going for something popular within their own country, without being overly preöccupied as to how it would play outwith their borders. Pali się is one of those entries that I don’t like much but which I respect. My changes would be to remove the pointless English intro and outro, which, if one were not paying attention, one might not notice actually being in English. I’d also try to make the song a little less linear, as the song feels mostly confined to one pace.

Slovenia: Finally, we come to a country where I can change next to nothing. Many people I know were disappointed that “Kaos” was not elected as the Slovenes’ song. Whilst I found it an earworm, I really didn’t like her haughty, “I’m only in EMA to promote my new disc” attitude – and I really preferred the delectable, contemplative and intimate “Sebi.” It’s pure elegance in simplicity, and I wouldn’t need to change a thing.

Czechia: I appreciate the Czechs’ creätive way of bypassing the expenses of a traditional national final – whilst still giving fans a choice – by holding their selection online. Really cute this year was the way they tried to equalise differences in funding by making the candidates’ official video be a low-budget affair filmed in their flats. I liked quite a few songs of their selection, with the eventual winner, “Friend of a friend”, middle of my rankings. I would, of course, opt for my #1 of the NF to win instead, the delightful slice of “Bohemiana del Rey” style that was “True Colours.”

Hungary: Hungary’s A Dal has the cachet to attract a number of returning artists, so it was not surprising that, eventually, it would be won by someone who’d triumphed before – and I’m delighted it was Joci Papái, one of the biggest revelations of the Hungarian NFs for me. Yet, as is often the case with folk coming back to take a second bite of the cherry, the sophomore effort comes short of the first – “Az én apám” is lovely, touching, but lacks the bite and edge that “Origo” had. I might have JP come second and hopefully return for a second victory in 2020/1 with something a bit stronger, and send in his place the soaring but melancholic “Madár, repülj”.

Belarus: Life is too short to do some things, and whilst I try to listen to pretty much every national final song, one of the things life is too short for is intensively following the Belarusian national finals with their hundred-odd auditions. I saw a few, though, and they were a rum lot. Musically, Aura’s touching “Čaravala” was probably the best of those I heard – but was also strangely won over by the unpretentious, fun ode to tubers that was “Potato, aka Buľba” and depending on my mood, I might give it the nod either.

Serbia: Beovizija had a great lineüp yet again, and there were a number of songs I would have been happy to have gotten the win, including the eventual winner, but also those of Saška Janks, Extra Nena and Ivana Vladović. The latter’s beautiful “Moja bol”, with strings to die for, was my favourite on the night, but in retrospect, I’m not sure I’d replace the equally stunning “Kruna.” I’d be tempted to send it in its acoustic version though, where Nevena’s lovely voice stands out even better.

Belgium: Ô, Belgium. I adored “City Lights”, and so my expectations were really high. This is nice enough, but a bit beige, and doesn’t quite deliver, especially the way the enjoyably tense verses lead to an anticlimactically limp chorus. I’d change that with something that actually feels like a pay off to the verses and the Walloons would have a better shot of shining again.

Georgia: I have to say that, once again, I find myself being one of the few people I know who has some love for Georgia. Whilst it wasn’t truly my cup of tea, I appreciated and enjoyed Iriao’s song last year on some level, and the same is true of Oto’s – he has a powerful voice and it’s a strong, if rather unsettling song. I think, though, that I prefer the darkly ethereal Sevdisperi zgva, which sounds like what I imagine would result if Björk were tasked to write a Bond tune.

Australia: After a few years of rumours, Oz finally jumped on the national final train, and, credit where it is due, it was one of the most intriguing national finals of the year. It was as if SBS had decided to atone for its aggressively MOR pop picks of previous years by actually showcasing some musical diversity. Unlike a lot of folk, I don’t dislike “Zero gravity” – it has a meaningful lyrical background and some quirky charm. But there’s no question about whether I would replace it and with what. I still get chills every time I listen to “2000 and Whatever” – the sheer, irrepressible burst of positive energy and the power of its “kulila miranyi” still give me goosebumps. Damn straight one of the best song of the entire year.

Iceland: Given the amount of hype Hatari have received – and how fans flooded videos of its competitors with comments about how they shouldn’t “fuck up” by picking them instead – I may be one of the very few who would change the result there. Yet, I almost definitely would, even though I typically like lesser-heard genres at Eurovision and like the heavier, industrial musical style. And yet, I find this quite trying. It seems like a very knowing, art school student pastiche and I’m not here for their “above the contest” feel or the BDSM gimmickry. I’d be tempted to replace this with the low-key but lovely “Hvað ef ég get ekki elskað”, or to at least pare back the OTT disdainful irony.

Estonia: It feels almost like another era when I was a firm exponent of the idea of Eesti being Beesti. Three years of immense disappointments will quench that type of fire. Whilst leaving behind the stunning Spirit Animal in 2017 and opting for a generic poperatic vocal exercise in 2018 were excruciating, this might be the biggest let down yet – a land of so many talented musicians having to rely on an Avicii pastiche sang with no small difficulty by a reedy-voiced Swede. I found Eesti Laul very slim pickings this year, and found the other two frontrunners to be rather bland too – even the delightful Sandra Nurmsalu came with a tune that, whilst pleasant, sounded less nomadic epic and more toilet tissue commercial backing track. I would have gone for Kadiah’s delicate “Believe” as my pick instead.

Portugal: FdC was once again one of the best national finals, and the one for whose result I was perhaps most anxious. There were a few songs I really liked, like “Pugna”, “Mais brilhante...” and “Inércia”, but when the dust settled, there was only one song I wanted to see winning – “Telemóveis,” of course, which I was delighted to see prevail. I have some real worries about the bizarre staging distracting from the message and emotional power of the song, though. There’s so much going on, and it might be enough to push people from being entranced to being weirded out. I’d get rid of the spoons, sort out the clothes and try to make things impressive without being so extra.

Greece: I actually really like Greece this year, even if I’m still pissed off at what they did to “Don’t forget the sun” in their dubiously axed national final last year. Her voice is beautiful, the music is uplifting and anthemic, the æsthetic is curious and a bit culty, but at least memorable. The one thing I don’t like? The lyrics, which sound like a bunch of motivational Instagram quote clichés loosely knitted together. Sing something actually meaningful, preferably in Greek.

San Marino: Lord, I’m not going to start because if I do, I shan’t stop. All I’ll say is that San Marino’s “troll nation” status is wearing thin for me. Unbelievably, hundreds of talented people came out in numbers last year willing to represent them, and yet they went with a song written supposedly in 5 minutes but probably in half that. I’d have invited Sara de Blue back instead to make up for the bizarre fiasco that was last year’s 1in360. And the automatic qualifiers:

France: If France’s national delegation aren’t rethinking their voting system after this year, then they ought to be. It’s the opposite of Sweden, where the juries really have the power and the televote is scattered – all you need is a frenzied following to overturn a low jury placement. I liked a great number of Destination Eurovision’s selection this year. I would have taken pretty much ány single one of them over the snivelling, bombastic, self-aggrandising drivel that is Roi. With regards to what to send in its place, I’m torn between the powerful “Là haut”; the adorably, quintessentially French “Allez leur dire”; or the energetic, indefatigable earworm that was “On cherche encore”.

Israel: Boy howdy, Israel sure want to do their level best to avoid fluking a 1979 and winning on home ground, eh? I heard there were many big names who sent songs in, though I’m unsure if any of them would have helped to make the stormy Kobi seem more sympathetic. I think I would have opted to let Ketreyah perform for the hosts instead.

Spain: After a great national final last year, I was really disappointed with the subpar quality of the so-called eurotemazos which were anything but. Miki’s song was the best of a bad lot and at least he didn’t have the hideously negative attitude some of the other people, who seemed surprised and aghast that the winner of a contest related to Eurovision could end up performing there. I’d try to give Miki a song that matched his energy with at least a bit more lyrical depth.

Join me in some days when I evaluate what I would change with SF2!

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iamtaekooked · 6 years

Text

Vanilla Rules || Ch 13|| pjm

Genre: Enemies to Lovers! AU, badboy! au, college! au

Word count: 5.5k

Synopsis:

The hate saga between you and baddie of the town Park Jimin rests on two very simple rules: 1.) Hate each other for the rest of your lives and 2.)under no circumstances fall in love with each other. But what happens when the possibility of love threatens this dynamic?

A/N: This took me so long to write!!! and since people had been asking when I am updating I thought I would do it since I was struck with .Idk if this could have gone in a different direction, but please don’t get mad at me. Enjoy ;)

Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || Ch 6 || Ch 7|| Ch 8 || Ch 9 || Ch 10|| Ch 11 || Ch 12 || Ch 13 || Ch 14

The next few days passed by in a blur mostly because you hadn’t stepped foot outside your apartment. All you did was mope around, get drunk and fall asleep. It was a coping mechanism you were using to avoid having to think about a certain boy. It was your worst nightmare come true because you were inept at dealing with this new revelation.

To say you were confused would be an understatement. To you, it felt like having your whole world turned upside down. It was akin to existing in a living breathing hell which partly might have been of your own making. Maybe if you hadn’t let your guard down, or if you hadn’t forgone your dislike none of this would have happened.

The flood of mixed emotions that was painfully drowning you with each passing day was difficult to handle. Amongst everything you were feeling, frustration was a big perpetrator. You were constantly irritable and any time Taehyung brought up Jimin you physically felt the need to scream and break something. You couldn’t even hear the boy’s name without wanting to rip all your hair out.

But despite that, another emotion lingered in the depths of your heart: fear. The near constant anxiety had diminished your appetite, and sleep. You were clueless as to how to face him. It wasn’t like you had done anything wrong, but you couldn’t even find it in yourself to imagine being face to face with Jimin after what he had said. You often wondered at times whether he was just as affected as you were. Maybe he had told you that as a joke and maybe when you would see him next he would tell you the same.

That would be the ideal scenario. However, a small inkling in the back of your mind told you otherwise. He looked far too serious to be joking. Unless he carried the talent of being a flawless actor in his repertoire. But that was unlikely as well. So basically you were utterly screwed.

You knew you would have to get out and face the music because one week of missed classes was enough to kick your scholarship to the curb. You couldn’t afford it so there was a choice to be made. Either you could go to college tomorrow and face your demons, or you could stay holed up in your apartment and risk your career. It should have been an easy choice had it not been for the confession that was sprung on you.

Lying around aimlessly with the bottle of wine in your hand the situation you were in right now was far too similar to the one you had experienced before. Jimin had threatened you into kissing him in the gym after the basketball game and you had done so. Even then you had hidden away, and now were doing the same.

Even Taehyung did not know about it. You didn’t want to put him in an awkward spot so you had refrained from telling him about Hoseok, the fight, and now Jimin. He had questioned you multiple times about it, but you always managed to find an escape.

With a heavy sigh, you relinquished your moping to pour yourself another drink. You were in the midst of doing so when the door flung open to reveal-- Jimin?

You dropped the bottle of wine in your hand and the liquid sloshed on the beige carpet, coloring it red. A tight nauseating knot bound your stomach, and your heart skipped mercilessly in your chest. You looked at the door wide-eyed, the word leaving your mouth as a panicked whisper. “J-Jim-Jimin?”

“I wish I looked like Jimin” the voice was definitely not his. It was a tad bit deeper so you rubbed your eyes and instantly the image changed to reveal Yoongi.

“Yoongi!” you jumped from your seat but instantly fell back down because your motor functions were not optimal at the moment.

“Woah!” he approached you. “How much have you tortured your liver?”

“Ughhh. My liver is the least of my worries Yoong” you sighed once more and hoped that it would convey your helplessness accurately.

“Were you expecting Jimin?” Yoongi crouched down and took a bunch of tissues from the tissue box on the coffee table and began cleaning the spill. It wasn’t salvageable but you were grateful for his help.

“What!” you chuckled because of the irony of his statement. If only he knew, he wouldn’t have said that. “Noooo…. I am not expecting Jimin. In fact I am never going to”

“What happened now?” he stood up and strode towards the kitchen behind you.

You waited for him to be face to face with you again to answer. Once he was back you decided to reply. “Nothing and everything”

“Wow. That definitely answers all my questions” he shook his head as he took a seat next to you. You weren’t sure if you should reveal this to anyone because it would only involve more people in the unnecessary drama. But then again you had not talked with anyone about your worries and the stress was eating you away. Yoongi always had good advice so maybe he could suggest something to ease your growing pains.

You turned your head to look at him and a second later he shifted his sideways to look at you as well. “Jimin didn’t tell you?”

“So something did happen then” he raised a curious eyebrow waiting for you to spill the beans.

But it felt like a betrayal if you told him first and not Taehyung so you decided you would wait until Taehyung was back to tell them both about the kind of mess you were in. You doubted they would be able to help but maybe you needed your friends to be able to figure all this out.

///

To a third party, it might have looked like Taehyung and Yoongi were stoned and not you. They were staring at each other blankly as if neither of them possessed the brain power to comprehend your story. You were expecting a better reaction than the one you were getting. It was a little more “grandiose” in your head and there was a bit of an outburst as well.

But none of that came to fruition because both boys casually shook their heads at each other after a moment of silence.

“What?” you looked between the two of them.

“So he said he likes you?” Taehyung attempted cautiously as if he was scared of you going off on him or something.

“He said he might just like me more than he wants to. I mean he said might. So maybe after all he doesn’t like me. Right?” you looked at Taehyung and then at Yoongi.

“I can’t speak for him but it’s better if you talk it out amongst yourselves” Yoongi responded

“Tell me you don’t actually mean that” you deadpanned

“I do. Eventually, you have to talk about it” he shrugged like it was the most likely of occurrences.

“Not happening. I mean what would we even talk about?” you couldn’t help the frustration as you threw your hands in the air.

“Forget that. First, we need to get you out of the house” Taehyung slipped his hands into yours and helped you up.

“Where are we going?” you looked at him puzzled.

“Somewhere” he turned you around by the shoulders and pushed you in the direction of the washroom.

“Alright, you kids have fun. I gotta go to work” Yoongi stood up, ruffled your hair, high fived Taehyung and left.

///

“So your idea of getting me out of the house was the soccer game?” you looked at Taehyung accusingly.

“It’s better than you moping around in the apartment all day y/n. The world hasn’t come to an end so stop acting like it has” he shrugged and took a sip of his beer, waving wildly to some of his friends from the soccer team.

“Seriously?” your mouth hung open as a sign of your disbelief

“Yeah. But for now, Hoseok is coming here so you might wanna act like its A-okay. You don’t want to be the reason behind the captain of the soccer team not showing up for the game today” he smiled at you and quickly fixed his expression into a pleasant and welcoming one-- a bright smile and a ton of enthusiasm.

“Hey, guys! Thanks for coming” Hoseok greeted you and Taehyung with a bright smile.

“I wasn’t going to miss this game bro. Good luck out there today” Taehyung and Hoseok shared a high five.

“Good luck. I know you will win us this game. You’re the best we have Hoseok” you beamed at him and he nodded in return.

“Thank you y/n. I am going to try my best” the corners of his mouth lifted to return your smile. But then his gaze shifted behind you and his smile faltered. With a small frown, you turned around and felt the wind knocked out of you.

Jimin and Jeongguk were approaching the stands in all their glory. Your muscles stiffened, and heartbeat painfully fast. A feeling of crippling warmth spread through your body while your mouth dried up. Whipping your head back around you looked at Taehyung in panic. He didn’t understand the look of absolute horror on your face until Jimin was within his line of sight. His mouth opened in realization while his eyes shifted between you.

Jeongguk quickly skipped the few rows of bleachers and settled beside Taehyung. Your hand tightened around Taehyungs free hand, prompting his attention towards you.

“Relax. It ’s just Jimin” Taehyung whispered close to your ear in an attempt to calm you down but it wasn’t helping.

“Didn’t think you would show up” Hoseok motioned his head at Jimin

“I might not like you but I still have school spirit” the two men nodded at each other as Jimin finally halted to a stop next to you.

Your limbs stiffened, rendering your muscles incapable of functioning. You should have looked away but you couldn’t. You couldn’t even blink, or swallow and you practically forgot how to breathe. Jimin had never been one to induce such panic in you. But now he was the reason you were shaking in your spot, almost feverishly.

His voice from the other day repeated the wretched words on a loop in your head. He triggered a hoard of memories you had been trying to suppress. Once again you felt the feeling of his lips on yours and your heart couldn’t decide whether to beat faster or to stop beating altogether. You would have preferred the latter because he had focused his gaze on you which only spelled your demise. A hiccuping fit ensued making both Hoseok turn his attention to you. It only served to make things worse.

Jimin looked at you with curiously raised eyebrows, causing you to blink away from him awkwardly. The cup of beer was almost meeting Taehyung’s lips when you snatched it from him and chugged the whole drink in one breath. That definitely did not help because a second later you were hiccuping endlessly-- worse than before.

You saw a water bottle extended in front of you and trailing up the arm you saw a sweet-faced Jeongguk. You took it from him with a nod and drank all of it feeling some relief as your chest stopped burning. You focused on the vast field to distract yourself from Jimin’s gaze which still rested on you. But it proved to be a futile because you hazarded a glance only to find him staring right back.

“Hey Jimin” Taehyung was a bit too late in his greeting but it came as a respite because he turned his focus onto Taehyung instead.

“Hey” Jimin responded.

“Are you going to watch the game with us ?” Taehyung questioned with a tone of surprise. But it was more like an invitation than anything else. You wanted to sock him but refrained from doing so with much difficulty. Jimin’s eyes shifted to you and simultaneously you looked at him too. You had no idea what made you try such a stupid move because he was already staring back. You made haste of averting your gaze and focusing to the side somewhere.

“Yeah” he responded after a moment as he occupied a spot on the row below in front of Taehyung.

“Anyway, I gotta go. Enjoy the game” Hoseok winked at you and you gave him a small smile accompanied with a nod.

Jimin looked over his shoulder at you and then at Hoseok. You caught his eye for a split second and managed to notice the scowl on his face. You were almost at the edge of your seat, ready to sprint when you remembered doing so would be giving into your-- whatever it was you were feeling. Even if it killed you by the end, you had no choice but to endure.

///

It was half-time and people began emptying the stands. You watched them leave just to try and distract yourself. Somehow in the midst of the game, Jimin had moved to your row and was sitting beside Jeongguk whilst staring affront with a vacant look in his eyes. After a quick glance at him, you did the same while fidgeting with your hands in the lap. It was becoming increasingly difficult to stay in his presence but you knew you had to stick it out. Otherwise, if you gave into your anxiety that would mean that his words and actions meant something to you. But they didn’t. Right?

It was incomprehensible the way your body reacted in his presence. You became hyper-aware of your bodily sensations like the stiff muscles and limbs, the hammering of your heartbeat, the shallow breaths, and the feeling of tight knots in your stomach. You could feel everything and it amplified ten times more when you focused on Jimin.

You weren’t even sure if you had processed your feelings about the matter. In fact, you didn’t even know if you had processed the situation itself, much less your thoughts about it. When he had told you he likes you more than he wants to, a moment later he had looked at you like he couldn’t believe it himself. Wordlessly he had sat in the car, just staring at the steering wheel, while you stood stunned at your spot.

You still remembered that you stood against the hood of his car alone and watched as the sun rose in the sky. He hadn’t interrupted you and neither did you disturb him while he sat in the driver’s seat with his head resting against the steering wheel. Maybe you had stayed like that for an hour or two, neither of you talking to the other as you both soaked in the peaceful glowing morning and possibly the tumultuous emotions both of you were feeling. When you finally gathered the courage, you went back inside the car. He drove you to your apartment, not a single word or look exchanged for the duration of the ride. The whole situation was so surreal you thought it better not to dwell on it at the moment.

That resolve carried over the next week as you drowned yourself in alcohol and sleep. Had it not been for Taehyung’s insistence you were sure it would have gone on longer. But it felt nice to be out-- except for Jimin being there too. That was something you would have to work on.

“I am gonna go get some food. Let's go Jeongguk” Taehyung stood up and winked at you while motioning his head very indiscreetly towards Jimin. You sprung to your feet in panic with wide eyes as you gaped at Taehyung in horror. You clasped his wrist in a tight grip while shaking your head rapidly. Taehyung gently uncurled your fingers from his wrist and ushered a clueless Jeongguk who made sounds of protestation.

You supposed you could follow them but Taehyung would send you back. Sometimes you really hated him. As you watched the two boys disappear into the distance, you also felt all sense of sanity and composure leave you. It’s not like you were calm and collected before, but there was at least a sense of relief having other people around which prevented any possibility of conversation. But now that seemed unlikely as you sat down on the bleacher with slumped shoulders. There was no barrier between you and Jimin this time so it was even more awkward.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eyes and quickly looked away before he could catch you. You realized you had your phone with you and took it out of your jean pocket. As luck would have it, your phone had run of out battery which meant you had no way of distracting yourself except by people watching.

“You look like shit” you jolted upon hearing Jimin’s voice.

All the dread was replaced by a sudden irritation at hearing those words. You weren’t expecting those to be his first words after he kissed you. You had no idea how you were meant to have a conversation with him after everything, but this wasn’t the start you could have imagined if you ever did. You realized in that instant that you did expect things from him and it made you all the more flustered. Because you knew you shouldn’t expect anything from him and the fact that you did scared you. It meant that somehow he mattered in your life since you only ever expect from the people you care for. But you didn’t care for Jimin. Right?

“I’ll take that as a compliment given that I can’t even say that for you since you are a shitty person” you turned to face him with a scowl.

He chuckled with a shake of his head, almost bitterly, almost disappointingly. Your heart sunk when you looked at him, because he looked a bit hurt .“It’s a better compliment than I expected given...” he shrugged a bit clearly referring to his confession.

Did he have to bring it up? No. Yet there it was, the incomplete and grave reference that needed no saying. The unsaid words hung thick with tension more than ones that had been spoken. Usually such serious matters never needed to be directly addressed because of how grave and impactful they were to those involved. It would be like opening Pandora’s box and hoping all ends well, despite knowing it would not.

This was like opening the Pandora’a box atleast in context of your situation, because the box held dreaded feelings, emotions, unsaid words that could potantially cause significant damage. Or ones that could create unparalleled fear in both of you.

“Well... “ you started shakily, hating how weak and helpless it sounded. But before you could reply, you were saved by Hoseok, who was walking up the bleachers towards you. Jimin looked completely taken aback as Hoseok slowly approached you. He scoffed audibly and for a split second, you looked at him in confusion before returning your attention to Hoseok. Instantly you stood up to greet the boy, more out of curiosity than anything else.

“Aren’t you supposed to be out in the field?” you questioned a bit too enthusiastically because relief flooded you as you did not have to carry on the conversation about what happened with Jimin. It was too soon.

“I am but I needed a dose of luck”

“A dose of luck?” you frowned in confusion

You heard a scoff from your right and you knew it was Jimin. From your peripheral vision, you could tell he was shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Even if Hoseok heard it, he ignored it as he kept his focus on you.

“Yeah. You” a smile quivered at the corner of his lip. Then out of nowhere, he smashed his lips onto yours. It was a kiss full of passion which triggered the memory of Jimin's kiss. That rendered you a complete vegetable because the physical stimulation and the mental torture somehow ended up on the same page and managed to push you into defeat. You could feel his soft lips against yours and you knew your brain was registering it. But your motor reflexes had been fried due to the chaotic rush of memories and Jimin’s voice faintly lingering in your head telling you to back away. You felt so dizzy that your eyes closed of their own accord due to the heaviness settling in behind your eyelids.

Hoseok parted from your lips with a faint blush covering his cheeks and you couldn’t imagine yourself looking any different-- mostly because of shock. You just blinked at the boy in complete surprise. You wanted to say something, but you didn’t even know what. You stood in a daze, unable to move a single muscle. And then you remembered Jimin which managed to wash over you waves of guilt. Everything felt so wrong all of a sudden. Hoseok kissing you, Jimin witnessing it, you being unable to react-- all of it felt wrong.

“I’ll-- I will see you later” a small shy smile curved his lips as his eyes lingered on your face a little longer before he awkwardly scratched the nape of his neck. He turned around and jogged back to his teammates on the field as the second half began. You heard the whistle ring and you could faintly make out players on the field but you were too engrossed in your thoughts to fully be present at the moment.

Your knees felt so weak, you had to sit down. Your cheeks were burning mostly because Jimin was staring at you. You glanced at him only to find him glaring at you. It was the kind of look someone gives when they are silently accusing you of something-- like maybe he thought that somehow this was your fault. You wanted to tell him to stop looking at you like that because not only did it unnerve you, but it also made you feel guilty. You wanted to run away from everything, to never see Hoseok or Jimin again. But like before your body was frozen in place.

Jimin hadn’t said a word because his eyes-- the hatred in them said it all. Abruptly standing up, he stormed off and you could only watch him disappear into the distance. That is when you felt your heart sink. It affected you and you couldn’t understand why. It was unlike you to feel this way, especially where Jimin was concerned. Yet you desperately wanted to chase after him because you heard his voice from that day in your head: I think I might just like you more than I want to. It was like a sense of urgency had taken hold of you. Like if you didn’t go after him he would misunderstand and you didn’t want him to think bad of you.

Biting your lip you stared at your lap while fidgeting with your hands, and feet tapping impatiently against the steel surface. You looked back in the direction he had left and found no sign of him. The urgent feeling within you was getting worse by the second and you found it hard to sit still anymore. Like a spell of some sort had been lifted, your once rigid body regained its ability to move. You sprung to your feet and while muttering apologies for stepping on people’s toes and disrupting their view of the game, you left the field and ran in the same direction he had left.

A part of you wanted to scream his name, however, that would be very lame. So you searched and searched the whole college and finally found him in the gym where he was shooting hoops. Your frantic heart calmed down when you saw his figure through the glass window in the gym door. It reminded you of the time you had been locked in the school and both of you had played ball through the night only to wake up cuddled next to each other the morning after.

The memory triggered the appearance of a small smile which quivered at the end of your lip. It vanished though because Jimin had caught you staring at him. Your breath caught in your throat and you gulped hard as your hand encircled around the handle. With a deep breath in, you flung the door open.

Jimin didn’t even acknowledge your presence even after he knew you were there, which somehow made you feel weird. You couldn’t describe the feeling but you almost felt bad that he didn’t look at you or address you. You knew the reason why and it scared you to even admit it to yourself. You walked in further with cautious steps and stood in front of him, watching as he shot one basket in after the other.

“Jimin I-”

“Just leave me alone” he dribbled the ball, took up his shooting stance and shot but missed the net. Cursing under his breath he took another ball and shot it at the net, missing once more. He was growing increasingly agitated and you could tell because his whole body language had changed. His expression was different, furious even with the way his eyes were cold and his lips were almost in a thin line.

“Look I just wanted to say-”

“I said leave me the hell alone. Just fuck off!” he yelled so loud that his voice reverberated across the empty gym. You looked at him wide-eyed in a dumbfounded state and stumbled back in shock. It wasn’t that noticeable but his chest was heaving. He was just glaring at you in the way he did before when the amount of hatred between you was on an equal footing. It was the familiar look of pure anger towards you, he used to carry before, during the days when you couldn’t even look at him without wanting to slap him. You felt tears prick your eyes but you would never let him see it. With one last lingering gaze you turned on your heels and proceeded out the gym.

You closed the doors, letting your hand slip from the handle and drop to your side. Standing with your back against the doors you let a few tears escape. You slid to the ground because you felt too weak to support yourself. It was finally too much. To make matters worse you heard Jimin yell something that sounded lot like “fuck’. Before you knew it you were crying, and inside the gym, he was laying on the cold floor staring at the ceiling, completely red in the face.

You didn’t know if you were crying because of what he said and how he said it, or if you were just startled out of your mind. But either way, you felt really bad. You felt bad because he yelled at you and it escaped your understanding why it affected you so much. Normally you wouldn’t have given a damn about him and yelled right back. But you found yourself incapable of looking at him the same way after he had kissed you. Since that day, something about him was changed. He was still the same guy, and you were still the same person but somehow everything was different.

You didn’t know how but it was. You could feel it. Because knowing his feelings meant you had to be careful with him. Because if something happened it would be your fault. But a part of you felt different since the kiss. Special even, since Jimin wasn’t the kind of man to like someone. He would fuck girls, but in all the time you had known him he never had a single serious partner. So knowing that he possibly harboured feelings for you, made you feel like you meant something to someone. Because for someone like him to feel something, it took a lot. Because he made you feel like you were wanted. That you were worth it-- to him.

Maybe you just didn’t want to disappoint him. Or maybe something inside of you had changed after you shared a kiss with him. It would be expected. But that didn’t mean it didn’t scare you to death.

///

Jimin knew he shouldn’t have yelled at you. The moment he saw the shock in your eyes and your stuttering steps he knew he hadn’t done right. He knew it wasn’t your fault Hoseok kissed you but he was just so angry he couldn’t stop himself. As he lay on the floor, basketball clutched under his armpit, he heard your quiet sobs. The walls really were paper thin, he assumed. Either that or he really did manage to scare you out of your wits to make you cry that hard. His mind was a mess with the image of you kissing Hoseok while drunk, then of him kissing you, and then Hoseok kissing you at the game. It was like his personal tape of torture that replayed in his head on a loop.

A quiet ache settled somewhere in his chest in the form of a constricting feeling. If he could rip his heart out he would. Because that’s how bad it hurt him. If he was to admit it to himself, your frightened image hurt more than Hoseok kissing you simply because he was the one who had inflicted it upon you. He lost control which made him wonder if he would ever be able to stop himself around you. To add to it, he knew you didn’t reciprocate his feelings on the level he wanted. So was it really worth it?

He felt so helpless and frustrated that he desperately wished to talk with someone about it. But considering his only options were Jeongguk, Yoongi, or Taehyung, none of them were the right choice. Yoongi and Taehyung would tell him what they have always been telling him-- that he likes you and he should tell you. But he had done that already and he did not know what to do next. He knew how to be angry about things and how to run away from like when he couldn’t deal with it.

To him, it was the worst mistake he ever made. Maybe he was overrun with the disease of stupidity or maybe at the moment he felt so attracted to you he couldn’t help but kiss you. Yet, that could never have explained in a million years the impulsive confession that came after. It bordered on ‘maybe’ but it was as good of a confession one could expect from Park Jimin.

It wasn’t that he regretted it. No. He would have told you one way or another he felt something for you. But what he couldn’t comprehend was the unnerving effect it had on him after. He has experienced so many hookups and in his drunken state, he has professed his “love” for a lot of girls. He thought he could handle feelings, but maybe not. Nothing ever left him feeling so vulnerable and scared. He had been feeling on edge all week because of it. Every time he imagined an encounter with you it always ended with him embarrassing himself or with you two arguing. He had no idea how to deal with being around you anymore.

He sat up with a frustrated groan leaving his mouth and hand raking through his locks. He did not know how he was supposed to face you, and worse he had no idea what was going on between you and Hoseok. He knew you said you liked him yet everything you had done since contradicted it. He also knew you kissed Hoseok but he wasn’t sure how much of it meant anything since you were clearly drunk. But now that Hoseok had kissed you, sober, he did not know where that left you and your confession of sorts about liking him. Because he saw your eyes close when Hoseok kissed you, and that probably meant something.

It was like he had lost himself only to find a new side to him. One which he couldn’t understand and which he never knew existed. He hated who he was now because of his feelings. He could not handle feeling so. vulnerable, almost naked and on display. He had given you the liscence to trample on his heart and he wasn't sure he could bear it. He has never experienced anything like it, he has never experienced rejection and that is what it came down to.

Because a single simple truth remained: Park Jimin was terrified of love.

Maybe if he just ignored the pangs of excitement in his heart every time he saw you, maybe if he pushed away thoughts of you, maybe if he went back to who he was before everything. Or maybe if he stopped caring about you and Hoseok, he would feel normal. Perhaps if he just ignored everything and became who he was before all of it, he could deal with it. Maybe that is what he would have to do.

He was not the type of guy to vie for anyone’s attention. Yet he somehow always wanted yours. Maybe in retrospect, Yoongi was right-- he did do all the stupid shit just to get your attention, to keep your thoughts occupied with him even if it wasn’t in a good way. But it was exponentially worse now because he wasn’t bluffing.

The questions was : were you all in?

As usual! Let me know what you thought? Was Jimin right in he way he reacted? Should OC have told Hoseok off? I wanna know your thoughts so don’t hesitate :) Thank you for reading and don’t forget to like, or reblog (tags are validation! and I need it from you because I care what you think)

#bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts smut #bts #bts enemies to lovers! au #bts jimin scenarios #bts jimin imagines #jimin x reader #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bts fluff #bts angst

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strechanadi · 5 years

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Swan Lake - no longer a fairy tale

Right, so... Nobody asked me to, but something so marginal cannot stop me, clearly, so I went and translated the longest, the trickiest, the most profound review I have ever written. (And that includes POB Giselle, Swan Lake and Onegin! OK. Maybe not Onegin. But since I’ve done this one I can almost make myself believe I could give translating Onegin a go as well.) (She said and then promptly kill herself before she could made another clearly, completely and utterly deranged decision.)

Half of the things don’t make sense, I’m sure. And I can only hope they made sense in the original. (Which they probably didn’t, let’s be real, but since when this matters to me anyway?) (God, I literally cannot stop babbling, somebody strangle me or something. Or at least take the keyboard from my grabby and apparently very high fingers, that decided to simply vomit words after words for no real reason and with no brain to mouth/fingers filter whatsoever!)

It’s in times like this I truly wish to be able to write in an actual English language. Or for my mother language to be a world language, not some beautiful, hot mess, but a mess nonetheless, from the middle of nowhere. A mess I despite of everything love dearly and even live in this illusion of me being really pretty good in using (or more like playing with) it.

What is also clear - I, for a reason not known to humans, love to write absurdly, ridiculously long sentences. Be it just up to me, I’d write a whole review in one obscure linguistic construction I call a perfectly normal sentence. I was told however, that English doesn’t really do or like such things, so I tried to shorten them. Or some of them. Was really unbelievably succesfull doing so...

No reason to prolong this now, I guess?

So just, please be patient. Or benevolent. Or try to laugh in private at least! Look, I tried and I know it’s actually rather pathetic to be so spectacularly bad in English grammar, that I supposedly learnt from the age of 5 (but then spent more than 15 years actively hating the whole language, which... doesn’t make sense, I admit, but maybe explain some things), but... I mean, it would be better than google translate, if anything else. It HAS TO be!

As always - I appologize for anything and everything I did to the poor English language. It doesn’t deserve such a poor treatment.

Were there anybody who would feel personally attacked by my sheer ignorance of the basics of language of Shakespeare, Byron or Shelley and would want to make this thing better, let me know! (Even though I am afraid there are so many mistakes, your eyes will be bleeding around the end of 2nd paragraph...)

Last one - I have no idea how in/definite articles work!

(Good thing I don’t write fiction of any sort, ANs would be longer than the actual thing.)

Swan Lake, no longer a fairy tale

Whenever the two words – Swan Lake – were mentioned, everybody had some universally shared idea of the final picture. Nothing has drastically changed with John Neumeier (1976, Illusionen – wie Schwanensee), who mixed the original fairy story with events from prince Ludwig II of Bavaria’s life, nor with Mats Ek (1987), whose prince was torn between imaginary princess Odette and real life Odile, nor with Jean-Christophe Maillot (2011, Le Lac) and new relations between his main characters, not even with Alexander Ekman (2014, A Swan Lake), who came back in time and took a look at the first premiere of said ballet in 1877 and tried to make a rather poetic story about what from certain point was started to be called a fiasco. As if the later Petipa/Ivanov version needs any more boost…

The unshakable certitude was irretrievably broken in 1995 by Matthew Bourne. His Swan Lake was new, daring, bold, with unexpected twists and one could not left theatre feeling indifferent after seeing it. Part of the ballet world turned its back to such profanity of beloved classic. The other part fell for its captivating charm, and since in 2018 Bourne’s Swan Lake came back to his New Adventure’s repertoire for umpteenth time, after hundreds of successful shows, many tours across the globe, adorned with every possible theatre and dance awards, it seems clear who were right then, 24 years ago.

The most common characteristic of Bourne’s Swan Lake is „the male one“. Prince is in the centre of attention, black swan Odile is changed into unknown Stranger, and most obviously – all the swans became purely men’s business. Which opens completely new perspective for male dancers and saying that this ballet has a major influence to whole generations of artists is hardly an overstatement.

Bourne follows the original structure and basic frame of Swan Lake. There are still four acts, act one follows the Prince, his character, the environment he’s living in, relations he has, act two is for the swans, act three still represents the ball, and in act four, where traditionally the Prince is coming back to the lake, here the swans appear in prince’s room. Many times even the formal structure is intact – the prince’s solo at the end of act one, pas de quatre of both little and big swans, or Bourne’s take on character dances in act three. Even the entrée of swans in second act follows the same space structure of the Ivanov’s original /aka swans are coming one after the other and crossing the stage from left to right (dancers‘ perspective)/.

Oedipal Complex, repressed sexuality, low self-esteem

Bourne’s Prince, his personality, is more than ever influenced by his upbringing, by the estrangement of aristocratic background, his world constantly controlled, constricted by rules and rituals, with no spaces for affection, understanding, empathy, every emotion being replaced by duty. Bond between son and mother the Queen (ice cold, distant Katrina Lyndon for whom one cannot feel an ounce of sympathy, or more emotional, but still dismissive Nicole Cabera) is minute, almost non-existent, which has such a strong impact on the introverted, socially inept, insecure Prince, who is on top of all that haunted by strange dreams about swans. The feeling of lacking something gets even worse when he clearly sees his mother is more than capable of showing emotions, particularly towards another young men.

During yet another military parade or boat christening or exhibition opening, the heir to the throne is met with a bit silly, ill-mannered and completely unsuitable girl for his royal life (incomparable Carrie Willis, whose interpretation makes her character pretty sweet with candid, open-hearted warmth), who shortly after became his girlfriend and went with the family to the opera house to watch a ballet performance. Staging theatre scenes within the actual production /we call it theatre on theatre, which probably doesn’t make sense in any other language then ours, sorry/ is always very rewarding. Bourne is on top of that master of choreographic punchline and this scene (to pas de trois from Act I music) combines all clichés from romantic sylphs, awaken Floras, forest beasts to well-built male heroes one could think of and is a joy to watch for its grotesqueness as well as for the subtle details in gestures, ballet quirky manner or choreographic pattern for those, who know where to look for them.

The prince is trying to find his freedom in a night club, but to no avail. He’s met there unexpectedly with his frolicking girlfriend, then he got himself into a fight with one of her suitors (or maybe rather clients) and at the end his soul is beaten for good, when he has to watch the royal secretary paying some money to the one girl, whose affections he believed were genuine. (And it kind of doesn’t matter they most probably truly were.)

The only logical solution for the prince is a suicide. But before he’s able to throw himself into waters of a small park lake, majestic Swan appears and everything is changed at once. Traditional swans‘ corps de ballet danced by women is often associated with delicate elegance, crystalline beauty, dreamy atmosphere and aesthetics of homogeneously moving bodies. Swan is becoming a pure ideal almost as if from ancient Greece. Bourne’s swans are first and foremost animals, he’s not denying their grace, but is showing their slight awkwardness and ridiculousness in some movements at the same time. His swans are wild, independent, fetterless. Looking sinister when lining up to attack the prince, their physical, natural power strengthened by additional slapping arms, stamping feet, hissing and dangerously sharp, audible breathing. The Swan alone is very wary of the prince, uncompromisingly harsh, defensive, with sharp edges of aggressiveness that serves as self-defence of this imposing, powerful creature from anybody who would think of causing any harm. The almost imperceptible gestures calling the prince towards him are even more meaningful then, the moment when he nuzzles prince’s chest indescribably intimate.

Next evening there’s a ball at the palace. And even though it may seem the main reason of it is prince’s engagement thanks to all the ladies present, it’s the queen in her bright crimson dress amongst all black gowns who is in the spotlight. While her son doesn’t even know, what he should be doing with all said ladies. Break from routine comes with mysterious Stranger, whose raw, animalistic charisma draws every female’s attention to him, which he welcomes with great satisfaction. At the same time it also affects, quite unintentionally, the utterly unprepared prince, because Stranger’s arrogant dominance has something from Swan’s animalistic fierce. /Dear English language, you have many words. More than my mother language. But you have exactly nothing that would or could match prchlivost. Or at least I am unable to find it./ As Odile in original libretto, the Stranger dances his way through character dances (the Neapolitan one stands out with its light-hearted fun it makes of cliché Italian relationships) and finds his dancing peak in duet with the queen (music of so called Black Swan Pas de Deux). It is when prince’s psyche breaks and he, in his imagination, is thrown in arms of unknown to be faced with intimacy, sensuality, sexual tension and even the most basic physical contact, everything so strong even person of sound mind would probably find it difficult to cope. Therefore, when the Stranger kisses the queen, prince is there with gun in his hands and complete madness in his eyes. In chaotic situation gunshot is heard (although not by prince’s pistol), prince’s girlfriend falls dead and terrified young man is drawn away.

The tragedy is inevitable. To padded cell, where the prince is held, come doctor with the queen followed by group of nurses with queen’s face, whose hairstyle and white uniform may resemble the demonic nurse Ratched from the Miloš Forman’s film Flew over the cuckoo’s nest. After certain medical procedure (just shy from lobotomy) the prince is taken to his room, where the miserable, wounded Swan emerges from his bed. Shortly after he is followed by irritated flock of other swans, that throw themselves unbridled on the young man and then even on their supposed leader, doing so with brutality growing with every Swan’s desperate attempt to save his prince. The Swan dies at the end after their fatal, almost fanatical attack. And with him die prince’s illusions, dreams, hopes and then he himself. So when the Queen comes in the morning, all she finds is her son’s dead body, the sight of the Swan embracing his prince behind the bed the only, yet bittersweet comfort for the audience.

As many other versions of this famous ballet, this too strengthens psychological aspect of the story and deepens characters‘ personalities. Here, more than ever, the contours of main characters are pretty blurry. The prince and the Swan are blending into one, they are reflected in the other, full of opposites they are complementing each other, one would say they are like two sides of the same coin. /Ha!/ Bourne on top of that let his characters to blend with different original ones. Where in traditional Swan Lakes it’s Odette weeping at the beginning of the last scene, here it’s the Prince, who is going through mental breakdown in striking resemblance to Giselle’s mad scene. The role of Rothbart, the sorcerer, is played by the royal secretary as well as prince’s own mother, who at the same time plays a part of original Siegfried during the act 3 ball, when being seduced by Stranger, who is Odile. What may seem as confusing chaos at first sight, makes perfect sense in the end and strengthens the unquestionably dark tones of Bourne’s choreographic vision.

Artistic approaches or One man’s meat is another man’s poison…

As it always is with story ballets, individual artistic interpretation is something that has the power to change the final image of said piece. In case of Bourne’s Swan Lake and its current stars, the outcome may be completely different with each cast.

Where Liam Mower was bored, annoyed, slightly defiant teenage Prince, Dominic North’s hero was more tired, depressed young man with no illusions, very well aware of all his flaws and inability to fulfil all expectations of his social role, while James Lovell, who seemed most out of touch with reality, emphasized prince’s childishly pure, honest naivety. If the suicide attempt of Mower’s prince was more than anything a dramatic gesture, North was simply resigned to its inevitability, and Lovell threw himself into the waters with absolute, desperate abandon, his mind not able to see any other solution. Each and every prince is then influenced by his Swan and Stranger (and every Swan and Stranger by his prince).

Matthew Ball, the newest principal of the Royal Ballet, can rely on his first-class technique as well as on his unquestionable elegant stage presence. His pliable body felt the music to its very last molecule, every movement full of regal charm and classical beauty, which in a way brought Ball closer to traditional, delicately soft, feminine portrayal of Odette. His Swan was untouchable in his impeccable perfection, icily confident, aware of every gesture he made, of every prince’s fascinated glance. Max Westwell, former soloist of English National Ballet, concentrated more on the raw temperament, natural animal distrust, physical power and ferocity combined with enigmatic magnificence. Dynamics of his movements escalated at all times, was full of unexpected turns and transitions from strong, energetic endings, to exhalation captured in casual, seemingly ordinary movement of hanging wrist.

As the Stranger Ball looked like smug dandy enjoying himself and all the attention, all too well aware of his own youth and beauty, that make everybody fall for him. Personally though I couldn’t help thinking he wasn’t as in charge as it might look at the first sight. He was mocking his prince, showing off ostentatiously. Weswell on the other hand was the embodiment of pure, uncompromising charisma. Interactions between him and Mower’s prince, who was impressed by Stranger’s unconventional, rough manners at first, was quickly becoming a tense fight for power, the prince trying to prove himself worthy of Stranger’s attention, to prove he’s his equal. With Lovell’s prince the seducing, open flirting, blatant sexuality was much more evident, which combined with this prince’s ingenuous innocence made the final picture unpleasantly sinister.

Regardless of different casts, ending of the ballet became a real emotional roller-coaster. With Matthew Ball and Dominic North equal in their complete despair when being sure of the inevitable death of their partner. Ball’s total resignation the more palpable, the more he was stubbornly, despite his injuries trying to stay or at least look unaffected on the outside. Change of Westwell’s Swan, in act 2 so independent and powerful, was shocking. Now he was utterly, hopelessly, painfully broken. He was defending both his princes against furious swans with rabid determination, with no self-preservation whatsoever, with perfect, devoted abandon. Bond between him and James Lovell’s prince was then strengthened by certain feel of responsibility, by tenderness that felt almost motherly. He was not only trying to protect, but to sooth, to give some comfort to his prince as well with physical contact, with touches stronger, more frequent, more expressive, more meaningful. That was why prince’s positively hysterical, agonizing grief hurt almost physically then.

Bourne managed something extraordinary. His Swan Lake with costumes by Lez Brotherson is as iconic, as legendary as the original ballet. His vision as strong as let’s say Ek’s Giselle. What’s more, Bourne’s ballet doesn’t age, it hasn’t lost any of its impact – thanks to slight costume, dramaturgic and choreographic changes, that only strengthen its drive. Prince’s hinted homosexuality won‘t shock anyone anymore as well as men swans won’t provoke such controversy, true. But thanks to these examples it is evident, that Bourne’s ballet is so much more than just a gay version of one famous story…

For everybody who actually reach the end of this madness - congratulations. And I am sorry.

#ballet #review #swan lake #matthew bourne's swan lake #selfpromo

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yallreddieforthis · 6 years

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I Can’t Believe It’s Not Richie

Fandom: It (2017)

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Rating: T (for language)

Words: 2.7k

Pre-relationship. Movie canon-compliant but not book. Also posted on AO3

It seems impossible that a person can be both that shitty and the shit at the same time but like...it’s Richie. And since Richie doesn’t give a single fuck about following any kind of rules, Eddie guesses the ones that govern Eddie’s emotions don’t apply to him either. Greaaaat.

Sometimes Eddie can't believe it's Richie.

Maybe even most of the time, like when everything out of his mouth is your mom and my wang and it's just words, it's not even funny, and Eddie can only tune him out or try to talk over him. Richie cannot shut the fuck up for one goddamn second. And it's not even like Eddie can pin it to anything specific—like, oh, Richie talks more when he's angry or nervous or excited—because he does it when he's every one of those things and any other thing besides. The tone may change—the subject matter even—but the talking. Never. Stops.

Eddie doesn’t really consider himself a beacon of cultural knowledge, but he does own a TV. So he at least has a vague idea of what a British person might sound like, which is more than he can say for Richie. Richie also owns a TV, and yet his British Guy impression is so god-awful that Eddie has to assume he’s basing it on someone’s description of a fever dream they once had about a London street urchin from the eighteen hundreds. This only applies to the actual words though, not the pronunciation—which is pretty much indistinguishable from just Richie being Richie—and that’s across the board for all the voices, not just the British Guy. For someone who loves imitating other people as much as Richie does, it’s unbelievable how remarkably all his Guys sound like they’re from Derry, Maine. Because shouting out mangled phrases he half-remembers from the time he watched Mary Poppins six years ago—in the most American voice imaginable—is still somehow Richie’s interpretation of a British accent.

That isn’t even the worst part of The Voices though. The worst part is that Richie seems to have a sixth sense that alerts him to the exact moment at which it would most infuriate Eddie for him to do one, and invariably it’s as if a little light goes off in the least-developed part of his brain that says Time To Be Italian! (or Southern, or German—he has a constantly expanding, but not noticeably improving, repertoire) and it’s like he just has to do it right then. Sometimes it makes Eddie want to scream at him. Sometimes Eddie does scream at him. But screaming makes no difference; Eddie knows perfectly well that Richie will absolutely do it again the second the urge strikes him, no matter how inappropriate the timing or what Eddie does in reaction.

He's fucking gross too. Not necessarily grosser than the rest of them, but he certainly subscribes to the teenage boy brand of hygiene that dictates that he only really has to shower when Eddie finally shoves him away with a you smell like a sweaty nutsack. Of course then Richie inches closer and it's all how would you know, huh? and Eddie has to be like because I have nuts too, dipshit, and if you never wash them you'll—

And then all his warnings about bacteria and fungal infections are drowned out in the your mom and my wang and vague, half-heard rumors Richie repeats about people from school that Eddie knows aren't true, and he's pretty sure Richie doesn't even believe himself. Fuck him and his terrible, nasty-ass jokes.

Some days he thinks Richie purposely doesn't shower specifically so that he can torment Eddie with his unbearable boy stank. Or how he'll like, step in dog shit and just sort of shrug and wipe the sole of his shoe in the grass and then keep going with whatever he was doing like he's not literally tracking shit everywhere. If Eddie were to step in dog shit—which he wouldn't because he watches where he's going like a sane person—it would bring his entire day to a screeching halt. He gets that he's in the minority when it comes to these kinds of things, but he doesn't get why.

And then Richie has the audacity to suggest that Eddie's just as bad as the rest of them—when he says things like you’re convinced your shit doesn't stink, or it’s the smell of your own breath wafting back in your face—like he thinks Eddie is kind of gross too. Which shouldn't bother him, but it does. Somewhere very, very deep down in his gut he has a nagging suspicion as to why that might possibly be, but he's hell-bent on ignoring it at least until the inevitable destruction of the planet Earth, if not even longer. And that’s going like...pretty well for him. Reasonably well. Maybe a little less well than it used to be, but he's almost fourteen now and he thinks he should probably have a solid handle on the whole thing within the next couple of years.

But even if Richie wasn't either of those things—annoying, disgusting—there's nothing really exceptional that he is. It's not like he's a genius; the gigantic, goofy glasses make him look smarter than he actually is, and he gives as few shits about school as he does about anything else. Eddie is sure that Mrs. Tozier has never been to a parent-teacher conference where she didn’t hear the phrase if he only applied himself, and he’s equally sure that every one of the teachers who said it knew that they were wasting their breath. If Mrs. Tozier—or anyone else—stood even the slightest chance of motivating Richie to care about pre-algebra, there would have been upward mobility in his GPA long before now. Eddie has to assume he does at least some homework—if for no other reason than because he hasn’t been held back yet—but as far as he can tell, Richie bent over a textbook at home is a sight as yet unwitnessed by mankind.

Richie’s not athletic either—by any definition of the word—at least not until they decide to make Competitive Talking an Olympic sport. He’s really good on his bike, but that’s a skill he developed out of practicality because the alternative is being stuck walking all over Derry, and it’s not like being able to ride a bike is something to brag about because even Eddie can do that. But Richie’s not a fast runner. He can’t do a push-up unless it’s the kind that only count as push-ups when girls do them, knees on the ground. He can’t even throw a spitball into a trash can from three feet away (his performance in the Rock War against Bowers and his goons was a crazy, adrenaline-fueled exception)—and like, okay, the bad aim can probably be chalked up to his horrendous eyesight, but even beyond that there’s this general, overall lack of coordination. Eddie has what amounts to a universal pass that effectively excuses him from participating in PE for his entire school career, so he’s never been physically present for what goes down on the yard, but he can pretty much piece it together from the scrapes and bruises all over Richie’s arms and legs. It doesn’t matter what unit they’re on—dodgeball, baseball, soccer, tetherball—Richie plays only one position: target.

He doesn’t fare any better in the kind of extracurriculars that teachers and parents care about, like music. Richie is an aggressively bad singer—a fact Eddie is forcibly reminded of every time anyone has a birthday because Richie always makes a point of sandwiching Eddie between himself and someone who won’t run away (usually the birthday kid’s mom) while he belts out an eardrum-shattering rendition of Happy Birthday at the top of his lungs. Richie seems to interpret birthday party invitations as personal challenges for him to sing louder and worse, challenges he has so far risen to spectacularly on every occasion. The song gets longer each time too, because he never forgets to include Frankenstein on channel nine and the big fat lady on channel eighty and whatever new, ruder verses he’s scrounged up out of nowhere between the last birthday party and this one. Richie’s singing is actually one of the most obnoxious things about him, in Eddie’s opinion, which is really saying something.

He is so unrestrainedly, deliberately awful that Eddie could honestly imagine some idiot adult who doesn’t know Richie listening to him screech the chorus of Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go over and over in Eddie’s ear (the newest sabotage tactic he’s been deploying at the arcade to try to make Eddie lose at Street Fighter) and thinking wow, maybe that kid actually has a beautiful singing voice but doesn’t want anyone to know because he’s worried people will make fun of him. They would be wrong, of course, because even when he’s not actively trying to suck, Richie can’t sing for shit. Eddie doesn’t have to know anything about music to be able to tell that Richie’s real singing voice—the one he almost never uses—is flat and off-key. And forget about instruments because whenever someone makes the mistake of letting him get his hands on one, he immediately tries to shove it down his pants—or worse, Eddie’s pants—and pretend it’s a wang.

There’s art—and Eddie has noticed that being a really good artist can absolve someone of the sin of sucking at everything else. Bill, for example, is talented enough with watercolor pencils that if he drew people’s attention to his sketches, he could probably get away with not knowing how to write a half-decent thesis statement or multiply fractions (even though Bill does know how to do those things) because people would just affix the tortured artist label to him and stop giving him shit about the stutter. And Richie actually draws a lot—probably as much as Bill if it’s purely a question of quantity over quality—it’s just that the only things he seems to be interested in drawing are dicks, and the places he chooses to draw them are all technically the property of the Derry Public School District. Also, his fine motor skills are at least as bad as his gross ones, because his handwriting looks the way his singing voice sounds, and the dicks he draws make Eddie question if Richie has ever even looked in his own pants before.

And yet, despite all of the incontrovertible evidence that Richie is actually a walking disaster, there are other times that Eddie can't believe it’s not Richie to everyone else. Or even like anyone else.

It could be argued that it’s almost inevitable due to the sheer volume of jokes he tells, but every so often Richie will get one absolutely, unassailably right. His timing, his word choice—the heavens open, the planets align, and suddenly everybody around him is laughing so hard they can't breathe, Eddie included. His eyes usually end up watering when it happens, but he squints through them to look at Richie because in those moments, Richie glows like nothing else. He tries to act like it isn’t a big deal that everyone is pissing themselves from whateverthefuck he just blurted out of his incessantly flapping mouth hole, but Eddie can tell how thrilled he is when people actually find him funny. It's happening more and more often nowadays, enough so that Eddie sometimes wonders if maybe Richie is wasting his time at school after all. And who needs sports or music or art anyway?

And he could be a whole lot worse about Eddie’s germ thing if he wanted to be, like how some people give him hell about the pills and the inhaler and the hand washing. Richie doesn’t have detergent hands but he sure as shit will mouth off to anybody who gives Eddie a hard time about his. He can’t say Richie doesn’t at least try to look out for him, in his own weird way. Or Bill, or Stan, or Mike, or any of them. It causes more trouble than it’s worth more often than not, especially because Richie doesn’t have any discernable muscle with which to back up his shit-talking, so it probably would honestly be better if he would just like...not. But Eddie can’t really help appreciating it all the same.

But the hardest thing to ignore about Richie—and Eddie wouldn’t admit this to anyone, even under threat of death by clown—is that his memories of what Richie did for him over the summer have become a kind of personal, private shield against fear. They all try to avoid thinking about It as much as they reasonably can (which isn’t much; it’s not like you just go and forget about the time you and all your friends climbed down a haunted well so you could almost get eaten by a demon clown in the sewers), but Eddie’s positive he isn’t the only one who lies awake at night when the sound of his own pounding heartbeat is making him too nauseous to sleep.

The lights are off because it’s almost worse when they’re on. Maybe if he can’t see It coming, it’ll just eat him real fast and get it over with before he even knows what hit him. Still, he doesn’t want to die—instantly is preferable to slowly, but even better is not at all. So he’s developed a set of dozens of little rules for himself to follow—like no turning over, no breathing too deeply, no limbs outside the covers, no long, slow blinks (quick ones are okay; otherwise it’s eyes all the way closed or all the way open). Realistically he knows that not a single one of these rules means jack shit to anyone outside his own brain, but somehow no-ing himself into what amounts to a vegetative state eventually bores him to sleep. Okay, usually it does. More like occasionally. Actually it’s only worked like twice, but whatever. He’ll take what he can get at this point.

Sometimes Eddie thinks he has it worse than anyone else. Well, maybe not worse than Bill. But the rest of them—he isn’t sure if any of them can really understand exactly how fucking useless he felt down in that god-forsaken lair with his arm in a cast. Bill and Beverly were awesome, Mike was like a goddamn soldier, Stan was great after he’d finished crying and even Ben, who Eddie basically thinks of as the most inoffensive kid on the planet, was tough as balls. And Eddie felt like a worthless piece of shit. He hates his arm for being broken, and he hates his nightmares for always including the broken arm. It’s coming at him—just him—and his arm is hanging limply and there’s not a goddamn thing he can do—

And that’s where Richie comes in. Only when he thinks about Richie bitching Bill out for getting them all into this shit situation while inching toward the mountain of broken toys, Richie grabbing a baseball bat and saying now I’m going to have to kill this fucking clown...only then does the terror that surrounds him all through the night start to ease up.

And then he thinks a little further back about when he fell through the floor and broke his arm in the first place, about how all his friends were crowding him and freaking the fuck out, and Richie just looked at his arm and said he was going to set the break and snapped his bone back into place while Eddie shrieked at him to do not fucking touch me. Just like, grabbed his arm where it was dangling the wrong way and fucking did it.

Sometimes… Sometimes Eddie is positive that if It were to show up in his house on any given night, Richie would immediately come crashing through his bedroom window, swinging a baseball bat. Because somehow Richie would know if It returned, would know It was coming for Eddie, would show up in time. He’d show up and keep his shit together while Eddie couldn’t. He’d probably sometimes miss with the bat, but Eddie kind of suspects that it wouldn’t matter. Richie would stand between Eddie and It and just sort of suck all the scary out of the room with his endless, pointless trash-talking. And when Eddie thinks about it that way, it’s like you know what? Screw John McClane; Richie Tozier is Eddie’s hero.

And then Richie sticks his sweaty armpit in Eddie’s face and goddamn it Eddie can’t believe it’s Richie.

#it (2017)#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #my fics #pre-relationship #the greater fool #sorry i'm an old person and it took me a million years to figure out how to post fics on tumblr

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