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immaturityofthomasastruc · 3 years

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Gabriel Agreste: Interesting Villain, Horrible Character (400 Follower Special)

I'm honestly surprised more people didn't want me to talk about Gabriel, especially with how often I rag on how horrible of a person he is. But, three character analysis posts later, and we're going to talk about why the main villain of Miraculous Ladybug is a real letdown.

Gabriel Needs to give the Whining a Rest

The interesting thing is one of the few things I actually liked in Season 3 was Hawkmoth. His plans actually made sense (for the most part), and by playing the long game, he managed to turn Chloe against Ladybug and deprived her of several key allies. Granted, Season 4 immediately undid the latter, but I was still impressed by his strategy.

Generally, one of the better aspects of Gabriel as a character was just how over the top he was as Hawkmoth. Keith Silverstein is clearly giving it his all with his performance, and he is just so enjoyable to watch as a cartoonish supervillain.

And therein lies the first major problem with Gabriel as a character. While he is fun to watch as a simple supervillain, the show tries to give him more depth and unintentionally makes him worse.

In Season 2, when it was revealed that Gabriel was Hawkmoth, many fans speculated on what he needed the Miraculous for, until the Queen Bee Trilogy showed it was to save his possibly dead wife, Emilie. The idea of that is so the show can give more depth to its main villain, and I think it's an interesting idea in concept. After all, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

The problem is just how radically different Gabriel is normally compared to how he is as Hawkmoth. He always goes on about how he's “doing this for Emilie”, but it's hard to really sympathize with him when you consider he constantly gives evil monologues and evil laughs, really getting into the supervillain role. And let's not forget all of the “I'm going to wear Ladybug's skin as a suit” faces he loves to make.

Clearly this man is the picture of mental stability.

Gabriel's motivation for being Hawkmoth when compared to what he actually does as Hawkmoth is shady enough, but the thing is that the writers clearly want the audience to at least feel a little bad for him. They want to make the audience sympathize with him despite the way he acts with or without the mask. Without Miraculous Ladybug, he is routinely putting innocent lives in danger and never once shows regret for his actions. All he talks about is how “he's doing this for Emilie”, or that “he'll get their Miraculous soon”. There's no real reason to feel bad for him other than “because the script says so”.

Let's compare Gabriel to Malcolm Merlyn from Arrow. His big plan in the first season of the show is to create a machine that will cause an earthquake to destroy a crime-infested portion of Starling City, claiming to be trying to help everyone, but it's clear he is only doing it out of revenge for his wife getting killed by a criminal from that part of the city. In addition, throughout that season and future seasons, he always makes sure his plans lead to him benefiting in some way, showing he isn't just some noble man trying to achieve his goals with a less than noble method.

If we got some moments that showed that what Gabriel was doing was selfish, it would make him a more complex villain. But we don't get anything like that. What do we get instead? Well...

I Could Really Care Less About Emilie Agreste

We have known Gabriel's motivation has been to save his wife for a little over two years at this point, but at the same time, it's hard to believe that motivation because of how underdeveloped Emilie is as a character.

There have been a total of two lines in the entirety of the show that explain what happened to Emilie, and they're both vague as hell. One of them was from “Feast” that implied Emilie used the broken Peacock Miraculous.

Adrien: My mom used to have dizzy spells… just like Nathalie.

And the other that outright tells the audience what's happening to her in a clip show that most people will skip.

Nathalie: As I've watched Emilie falling deeper into an endless sleep, my sadness for her has deepened, too

That is literally all we get for an explanation, and nothing else. We have no idea of what she's like as a person or what her relationship with her family was like other than Gabriel and Adrien saying they miss her. Other than the way the narrative says she's important to Gabriel and Adrien, we don't really have a reason to care about her as a character. There have also been some lines that imply she went along with Gabriel's questionable parenting techniques, like how he was apparently only homeschooled as a kid (Origins) and never had a birthday party growing up (The Bubbler), so how do we even know if she's a good person? In fact, why not set up this question as a mystery to make the audience wonder if Gabriel has another reason to bring Emilie back?

It ultimately turns Emilie into a plot device and not a character that Gabriel and Adrien only bring up to make the audience feel bad for them, and meant to justify Gabriel's actions by saying that he's “doing this for his family”.

But hey, if he's doing this all for his family, surely Gabriel's redeeming traits come from his relationship with Adrien, right? Right?

As a Parent, Gabriel is Far From the Best

I've talked about this briefly before, but parenting in Miraculous Ladybug is written in such a black and white way, even by the standards of this show. Parents are portrayed in one of two ways. They're either amazing people who love and support their children unconditionally, or they're awful people who treat their own children like trash. And much like a lot of things in this show, there are times where the latter is treated like the former.

There are so many times where the narrative insists on making you see Gabriel as a troubled, but wellmeaning person who tries his best to be a good parent to Adrien, but it is far from the truth.

I'm not going to beat around the bush. Gabriel is a terrible parent. Like, he is awful at being a parent in so many ways, even before you find out he's Hawkmoth. In his first appearance, “The Bubbler”, he delegates getting Adrien a birthday present to Nathalie, his assistant. He literally can't be bothered to take time out of his schedule to get his own son a present for his birthday. And as the show goes on, he becomes more controlling and forbids Adrien from going out with his friends in other episodes (Captain Hardrock, Silencer). While this could be used to show Gabriel getting worse, it's never acknowledged in-universe, with Adrien continually defending his father essentially keeping him on house arrest.

“But IOTA!” You might say. “Gabriel has made efforts to bond with his son in some episodes.” While that might be true, most of those come right after his Akumas have almost gotten Adrien killed. He only hugged Adrien and made an attempt to learn more about him after Simon Says invaded their home, he only decided to watch that movie Emilie was in with Adrien after Gorizilla nearly dropped him off a building, and he only hugged Adrien again in public after he was turned into a gold statue by Style Queen.

In fact, let's talk about how Gabriel acts in the Queen Bee Trilogy. He actually decides to quit being Hawkmoth, but it's not because he realizes all the damage he's caused. Instead, he gave up because his “magnum opus”, a stronger than usual Akuma that only got the advantage on Ladybug ironically because of dumb luck, failed. Sure, he says he can't keep putting his son in danger, but he rarely ever acknowledges that he does so in the first place. When Riposte wanted to fight Adrien, Hawkmoth did nothing to stop her other than giving her a stern warning earlier on and nothing else. Where was this attitude earlier?

Hell, even then, he immediately goes back to being Hawkmoth as soon as he sees an opportunity, not even a day after his “mAgNuM oPuS” blew up in his face (because I guess Scarletmoth was just Plan B). If he made such a big deal about caring for his son, why didn't he try harder to spend time with him? Has he ever had doubts about what he's doing before? If Chloe didn't show up as Queen Bee, was he going to follow through on his promise and try to be a better father to Adrien instead of trying to get Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous?

And yeah, the whole irony is that Gabriel is doing this for his family when he is unknowingly fighting his own son, which could lead to some interesting drama if done right. The idea of how Gabriel would react to his son being Cat Noir could really lead to some internal struggles for him to go through. But then we got “Cat Blanc”, which shows just how terrible of a character Gabriel is.

In an alternate timeline where he found out his son was Cat Noir, what does Gabriel do? Does he try to steal Adrien's Miraculous while he's sleeping? Does he reconsider his actions or realize he was endangering Adrien's life?

NOPE! He just decides to akumatize him all while emotionally tormenting him, before causing the end of the world.

This is honestly one of the most appalling things I've ever seen in any TV show, because it's basically an abusive father ordering his son to listen to him all while referencing his (kind of) dead mother to back up his point. And rather than use this to show how despicable Gabriel is, the episode decides to blame Marinette for this happening. Yes, according to the show, her present to Adrien caused several events to happen which caused Cat Blanc, but this logic makes no sense. It's like blaming the JFK assassination on the man who sold a gun to Lee Harvey Oswald, instead of, you know, Lee Harvey Oswald.

Not only was this episode yet another excuse to blame Marinette for something that wasn't her fault, it leads into the biggest problem I have with Gabriel as a character.

Sympathize with Gabriel? Surely, You Jest

After everything I've gone over regarding Gabriel as a character, after all the awful things I've talked about, are you really surprised that I don't feel bad for him at all?

Gabriel is just an awful character and a despicable human being, but the show just keeps wanting me to feel bad for him. It's just so hard to when you consider everything he's done has made him anything but sympathetic. I'm just saying, it's kind of hard to feel bad for someone who tries to start World War III with the only justification being “i'M dOiNg It FoR mY fAmIlY”, especially when he treats his family like crap.

The writers go out of their way to show how horrible Gabriel is as Hawkmoth/Shadowmoth, but they think because they throw in a few moments where he looks conflicted, we'll immediately feel bad for him. What makes so many people interested in seeing Chloe become a better person is that they can tell she's the victim of a troubled upbringing, and know that because she's only a teenager, she still has room to grow as a person, represented by having more honest moments of vulnerability. Gabriel is a grown man who once caused the apocalypse because of how terrible of a parent he is, and has even fewer sympathetic moments than Chloe does. Which one of these two is supposedly irredeemable? The answer may surprise you.

But the frustrating thing is that this kind of villain could have worked. Instead of making him this mustache-twirling psychopath, show how much Gabriel regrets what he has to do, but keeps pushing onward despite all the lives he's risking if it means that he can save his wife. Instead of making Gabriel like Lex Luthor, make him like Mr. Freeze, who is basic a better written version of him.

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But as it stands, there's a good reason why Gabriel gets little to no respect as a character in the Miraculous Ladybug fandom, as a villain, or as a father.

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #hawk moth #shadowmoth #shadow moth #emilie agreste #adrien agreste #cat noir #chat noir #cat blanc #chat blanc #nathalie sancoeur #mayura #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

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Only One Choice, Chapter 13

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“Explain again why you’re doing this to yourself, Mulder?” Byers asks with a pained look of concern.

He’s sifting through his closet, deciding what would be appropriately friendly for his outing with Scully. What kind of outfit says “I have no intention of trying to seduce you,” but also doesn’t leave him looking unworthy of seduction?

“I wish I knew, Byers,” he says as he pulls out his Greys jersey. Sports attire is very casual, but Val had once told him that he was devastatingly sexy in this jersey, so he tugs it off the hanger and puts it on over his white T-shirt. “I guess the idea of never seeing her again is even worse than being around her and knowing we’ll never be more than friends.”

Byers shakes his head slowly. “You’re a glutton for punishment, Mulder. Are you sure you aren’t secretly holding out hope that you can steal her away?”

Mulder buttons up the jersey and considers the question, his mouth quirked to the side. “I mean, I’m not actively trying to do anything, she’s way too smart for that and she’d see right through it. But the hope is there, sure.”

Byers nods sadly. “Well, good luck. Here are the keys, by the way.” He pulls a small key ring from his pocket and hands it to Mulder, who deposits it into his jeans pocket.

“Thanks, Byers, I appreciate the favor. I owe you one,” he says, clapping the man on the back.

After Byers is gone he brushes his teeth, considers and then decides against pounding a beer to calm his nerves, then says goodbye to Priscilla and heads to the Hoover building.

Scully is early, leaning against the passenger side door of her car when he pulls into the lot. He lets out a pained moan when he sees her, clad in flared jeans and a peasant-style flowered top that is cinched under her breasts. While he knows that realistically no human is perfect, Scully is about as close as it gets. He tries not to imagine what she’s got on under there, lest he embarrass himself.

He pulls up beside her and she opens the door, smiling at him shyly as she lowers herself into the passenger seat.

“Hi,” she says, and just the greeting makes his heart ache.

“Hey,” he returns with what he hopes is a casual, friendly smile. Do not leer at her. Do not gaze. He’s been giving himself frequent reminders.

“So, what do you have planned?” she asks as she pulls the seatbelt across her lap.

Mulder smirks in reply, backing out of the lot. “All in good time,” he says, and she gives him an appraising look.

“I’m not even sure why I’m instilling so much trust in you here, Mulder. Don’t push it,” she says with a playful tone, though it’s clear there’s some truth to the statement.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give you the preliminary details,” He acquiesces. “First we’re going to The Queen Vic, which has the best fish and chips in DC, in my humble opinion. Have you been there?”

She shakes her head.

“Perfect. Then we’ll head down to the wharf and get some ice cream.” He suddenly wonders if he’s made incorrect assumptions about what she likes, and casts her a concerned glance at a stoplight. “Do you like ice cream?”

She looks at him like he has three heads. “Who doesn’t like ice cream?”

He feels a little wave of relief. “I’m sure there’s someone out there who doesn’t like ice cream,” he replies, “but frankly, whoever they are, I have no interest in knowing them.”

She chuckles and there it is again, that ache in his chest. He wonders if it will fade over time.

The Queen Vic isn’t very busy just yet, given that they’re having an early dinner. They are seated at a small, dimly lit booth and each order a beer, fish and chips. Scully opts for an IPA and he feels a retroactive flush of embarrassment at the beer he served her, now knowing what her tastes are. She’s looking around, taking in the ambiance and British paraphernalia papering the walls, and he is looking at her. The cut of her top reveals the soft swell of her breasts, pale and inviting. Even her neck is beautiful, smooth and long and god, he wants to kiss it. Has he ever been taken with someone’s jawline before? Well he has now. Devastatingly beautiful, she is. Ache. Ache. Ache.

She’s looking at him now, and he smiles guiltily, having been caught. Fuck. He promised himself he wouldn’t do that. She bites her lip and fiddles with the salt shaker as though she’s not entirely sure what function it serves. What would a friend do? What would a friend ask? He needs to act like a friend, if he wants to be one.

“So, how’s wedding planning going?” he asks, the words feeling sour in his mouth.

She gives him a quizzical expression. “It’s okay. Fine, I guess.”

He nods. “And how’s Ethan?”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Um...fine. He’s fine. Mulder...why are you asking me about that? About the wedding, and Ethan?”

He dips his chin a bit, giving the pepper shaker a similar assessment. “I guess I just figured if we’re friends, a friend would ask about things like that?” He chances a glance at her and her expression is sympathetic, perhaps even pitying.

“You don’t need to do that, Mulder. We don’t have to talk about my relationship to be friends.” She’s running her finger over the condensation on the side of her glass, and he finds it disturbingly arousing.

“Fair enough, how’s work? Is that a better topic?” He is rewarded with a smile. My god that smile. She could melt permafrost with that smile.

“Work is great, no complaints,” she says coolly, an apparently genuine answer.

They drink, and eat, and talk. They talk about why she loves teaching, and how she got into pathology. He shares a bit about his methods for starting and then adjusting a criminal profile. They talk about med school, and his time at Oxford. He tells her about Phoebe and she admits a proclivity towards dating older men, with the exception of Ethan. It is so easy between them, and so right. He wants to scoop her up and steal her away in his car. Take her to a faraway place where there is no Ethan, where they can see this thing through. He notices how she often tries to hide her smiles, and the major role her eyebrows play in her facial expressions. She has a little mole above her lip that she’s attempted to cover with makeup, and her fingernails are perfectly manicured, like she has them professionally done. He wonders if she has tattoos, or piercings. If her bellybutton is an innie or an outie. If she prefers breakfast or dinner. If she likes morning sex. If she trims her pubic hair or takes it all off. He wants to know her, every bit. But he can’t. He never will. It hurts to think about it.

He drives them down to the wharf and they get ice cream cones from a stand near the water; she picks cookies and cream and he opts for rocky road. The evening is warm but not uncomfortable, the sun holding steady as it makes its descent towards the horizon. These are the dog days of summer, the daylight stretching well into the evening. No cover of darkness for a lover’s confession, not that he has any business making one. Friends meeting in daylight, above board. Never anything more.

They walk along the boardwalk, continuing their conversation between sweet licks, and he avoids watching her, but not entirely successfully. He must have been putting too much effort towards not staring and too little towards rotating his cone, because suddenly his ice cream flops over the side of its perch and lands on the ground with an audible smack.

He stops walking and stares at the now empty cone in his hand for a beat, and then he hears her giggling. When he looks over to her, she has her hand firmly planted over her mouth while she struggles to contain her laughter, the titters shaking her shoulders gently. The resulting swell of affection is overwhelming.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” he says dryly, and she works even harder to stop laughing, her face contorting into a grimace as tears pool in her eyes, shaking her head as though she could possibly deny her amusement.

He chucks his cone into a nearby trash can, then approaches her.

“Looks like you’ll have to share yours with me,” he says, moving his hand as though to take her ice cream, and she pulls it away with an open-mouthed expression of shock.

“Get out of here, it’s not my fault you licked yours right off the cone,” she says, wiping at her eyes with her free hand.

“Come on, Scully, friends share, don’t they?” he teases, maneuvering around to where she’s moved her arm, swiping at it playfully.

“Mulder, knock it off,” she replies, still smiling, and they are now moving in circles, him towards her ice cream while she artfully moves it out of his grasp.

Suddenly he swoops behind her, his long arms circling her waist and pulling her flush against him, pinning her stationary while he wraps his hand around her wrist and brings her ice cream cone to his own mouth. She shrieks in protest as he steals a big bite, and once he’s accomplished his goal, he becomes aware of their proximity. The feel of her pressed against him, the taper of her waist under his forearm, the smell of her shampoo in his nose. He grips her tighter, ever so briefly, but then releases her suddenly. He has no right. He crossed a line. She steps forward slowly, turning to look at him with pink cheeks.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, his arms dropping to his sides, woefully empty. Missing her already.

She shakes her head gently. “It’s okay,” she says, and they continue walking.

As they approach his car, the sun is just beginning to kiss the horizon. It’s nearly 8:30.

“This was really fun, Mulder, thank you,” she says with a shy smile, and he grins at the affirmation.

“There is one more thing I had planned, Scully, unless you have to get home right away,” he says cautiously, and she regards him with surprise, but not unpleasantly so.

“I don’t know, let me call my mother and see if I can stay out past curfew,” she jokes, but then adds “I suppose I’m curious to see what else you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“Great, let’s go,” he replies as he opens the car door for her.

———

She watches streetlights racing past as Mulder drives them to their final destination and feels a swell of guilt for how wonderful this night has been, then tries to talk herself out of it. She’s done nothing wrong, nothing inappropriate. She’s allowed to have dinner and ice cream with a man who is not her fiancé; he doesn’t own her. Given, the moment with the ice cream cone was a bit more flirtatious than might be ideal, but they were caught up in the moment. She tries not to remember the feel of his compact body pushed against her back, the strength of his arm around her waist. Tries not to imagine how it would feel to have him hold her like that without their clothes on. She closes her eyes and swallows.

They pull up in front of a darkened sports complex and she turns to look at him, questions communicated through her eyes.

“You don’t have something more worthwhile to do right now than slap a horsehide with a stick do ya, Scully?” he says with a smirk.

Her eyebrows lift. “Perhaps not, Mulder, but it looks like they’re closed.”

“A mere technicality,” he replies as he parks right in front of the main entrance, not even in a parking spot.

They approach the doors and he produces a set of keys from his pocket, holding the door open for her before he locks it behind them. There are security lights faintly illuminating the shuttered games and concessions, and she startles a little when she feels him slip his hand into hers, pulling her towards a hallway. His hand is broad and slightly callused, and she unconsciously threads her fingers through his. He glances at her, a slight cast of surprise in his features, but doesn’t say anything.

When they reach a large room, he flips on the lights and she sees rows of batting cages, five or six lined up on either side of a walkway down the middle.

“Are we supposed to be in here?” she asks him suspiciously, and he shrugs.

“The cops aren’t going to roll up or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says as he gathers a bucket of balls and two bats. “Even if they did, a couple FBI badges should send them off right quick.” He winks at her and she feels a flutter in her belly.

He motions for her to follow him to one of the cages, and she waits nervously while he loads the pitching machine and turns it on. When he turns around, he sees her trepidation and smiles warmly at her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he says reassuringly, and she forces her mouth into a tight smile.

He directs her to stand just outside the cage and demonstrates for her how the pitching machine works, talking her through his stance and movements for seven or eight pitches. He hits every single one, sending the ball crashing into the back wall with a padded smack, and she has the unsettling feeling that she’s about to embarrass herself.

“Alright, batter up!” he says, handing her the bat and sending her in.

She gives him a doubtful look.

“It’s easy, you’ll get the hang of it,” he encourages her, then shows her where to stand before he steps out and starts the pitching machine.

When the first pitch sails by, she winces and lets out a little squeak, but doesn’t swing. She can hear Mulder chuckle a little, but waits for the next one. When it comes, she swings way too early, and it flies past her head and bounces off the back wall. Three or four complete misses later, she looks at him woefully.

“I’m terrible at this, Mulder,” she whines.

He shakes his head and smiles at her.

“You just need some minor adjustments,” he offers, then comes inside the cage. He steps up close behind her and she startles a little at the contact.

“Sorry, is this okay? It’s the best way to show you,” he offers, and she nods, the back of her head brushing against his shoulder with the movement. He’s just showing her how to hit a stupid baseball. It’s the least romantic thing on earth, as far as she’s concerned.

He steps close again, wrapping his arms around hers as the length of his torso presses firmly against hers from her shoulder blades right down to her ass. She can feel his breath hot on her ear as he speaks.

“Now don’t strangle the bat, Scully, just shake hands with it,” he says as their palms brush over one another, vying for real estate. “We want to go hips before hands,” he continues, “stride forward, and then turn.” He motions with a hand in front of her towards the pitching machine, and she nods in confirmation. “It’s hips,” he places an open palm against her hip bone and physically turns her torso. She feels a rush between her thighs. “Before hands,” he replaces his hand on the bat and guides them through a mock swing.

“Okay,” she says, taking a steadying breath.

“Again, that’s hips,” there his palm is again, hot and firm and pressing into her flesh as he tilts her pelvis forcibly, “before hands. What is it?”

“Um, hips before hands,” she says breathily, resisting an overwhelming urge to press her ass back harder into his lap, to slip that hand beneath the waistband of her jeans so she can feel it on her bare skin. She has a vision of her riding him on the floor as the pitching machine flings balls aimlessly against the back wall, no one caring enough to hit them. She shivers.

“We’re gonna wait on the pitch, keep our eye on the ball, and then we’re just gonna make contact. We’re not gonna think, we’re just gonna let it fly, Scully, okay?”

“Okay,” she says shakily, her heart thrumming in her chest.

They take several swings, the bat making contact with the ball with a sharp crack. Mulder is murmuring in her ear about letting your mind go blank and forgetting about all your worries, but she’s too distracted by the heat of his body and the smell of his aftershave to hear him. If not for the risk of getting pelted by a ball, she just might turn in his arms, push him up against the wire-fence walls of this batting cage, and show him how she prefers to handle bats and balls.

The grip of his hands over hers on the bat pinches the skin around her engagement ring and she jerks. Mulder steps away from her a bit.

“You okay?” he asks, and she nods.

“Um, maybe I should try by myself now. Thanks for showing me,” she says without looking at him, and he steps back into the walkway to watch her. She hits the next three balls, then turns to smile at him victoriously. The pain and longing in his expression makes her heart sink.

After shutting the place down, they drive back to the Hoover building in relative silence, tension hanging thick between them like a curtain. He puts the car in park and gets out, walking her to the door of her own car, which strikes her as unnecessary. She stands by the open door, sensing that there’s something he wants to say.

“Scully….” he stops and shakes his head gently, talking himself out of it.

“What?” she asks, desperately wanting to know what he was going to say.

He clenches his jaw, fighting an inner battle.

“Scully, I know I shouldn’t say this to you. I know that you’re...with someone. I just-” he purses his lips, then closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, his eyes are so full of emotion it makes her breath catch in her chest. “I think about you all the time. Every second of every day.”

“Oh,” she responds lamely. There’s that urge again, the one she has to resist. “You seem like the kind of guy that believes in reincarnation, Mulder,” she says softly.

He gives her a quizzical look. “I don’t NOT believe in it,” he offers.

She smiles sadly at him, reaching out to grasp his hand and give it a brief squeeze. “Maybe in another life,” she says, then climbs into her car and shuts the door.

As she drives home, tears run down her cheeks freely. If she had to identify a reason for them, grief would be the closest one.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

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Official Accounts Part 20- Rescue

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Warning for canon-typical violence, major character injury, and manga spoilers

Masterlist

No one had come rushing down the stairs after Dabi had alerted you a guest had arrived. Nor had Dabi felt inclined to go check who it was, much to your chagrin. “Hmm, seems our little guest is shy. Shall we call whoever they are down?” Dabi asks. You don’t dignify his question with a response and choose only to glare at him. He saunters up to you, placing a warm hand on your waist, but soon warm becomes hot and then hot becomes burning. Literally. You grit your teeth for as long as possible, not wanting to give the deranged man in front of you the satisfaction, but eventually the pain grows too intense and you can’t help but cry out.

Hawks flinches at the sound of you crying out. His heart wants him to rush in there but his head knows better. Hawks is a smart, calculating man. He knows that Dabi is intending to get a rise out of him. He knows that in a one-on-one fight between him and Dabi, the other man has the advantage. He knows that back up is on the way. The kind of back up that will make this a quick and easy job. He knows all this. His commission approved, highly tuned instincts know this. A small, unhelpful voice in the back of his head reminded him that the last time he chose his brain over his heart in regards to you it had cost him your affections. Is that why every single cell in his body is telling him to go in anyway? No. Hawks would wait. Because it was the rational and logical option. It was the option that was least likely to get both of you killed. He could wait the 10-15 minutes max it would take for one of the others to get there. But then you cried out again, and without him consciously deciding to, Hawks was speeding to your location as if his body was moving of its own accord.

The minute he had eyes on Dabi, Hawks lunged forward and slashed at the other man, aiming for the seams between his healthy and scarred skin. He manages a couple hits but Dabi had been anticipating the winged hero so he quickly moved away from you and out of the way. “Ohh I was hoping it’d be you that showed up!” Dabi laughs. “You should’ve left her out of this,” Hawks growls back. His instincts were on fire in a way they’d never been before. Not the refined instincts of the HPSC, drilled into his head since childhood. No these were more primal, more feral, than that. “We both know this isn’t a good match up for you Hawks. What could possibly have driven you to come charging in like this, hm?” Dabi taunts as he unleashes his blue flames in Hawks’ direction. Hawks rolled away as quickly as he could but still winces as he feels some of his feathers get caught in the blaze. “You gonna talk or we gonna fight?” Hawks snarks back before once again diving in to try and close the distance between he and his adversary.

Dabi had chosen his location well. The confined room severely restricted Hawks’ mobility, further disadvantaging him in a fight already not tipped in his favor. To compensate he sent several feathers out to increase the amount of areas Dabi would have to defend. If he had to take the villain down with a thousand tiny cuts instead of a dramatic final slash he would. But Dabi is smart too and so he picked and chose which feathers to ward off and which to let land. As much as Hawks was hanging in there he was literally burning through feathers at an alarming rate and no matter how much he tried to dodge, the tightness of the room pretty much guaranteed he’d take at least a little heat. This was bad. It was really bad. But he couldn’t stop now. So he pressed on and hoped back up would arrive soon.

Your heart had constricted painfully in your chest when you saw Hawks come flying down the stairs. You knew this was not a fight he would likely win. Not alone. Which is why you wasted no time taking advantage of Dabi’s focus being entirely on the winged hero instead of you. Your eyes turned to the chain and handcuffs confining you and you took a deep breath to steady your hands before getting to work. You carefully grab hold of the chain and start pressing it past the raw skin of your wrists to get inside one of the cuffs until you can loop it over your hand. Then, slowly but surely, you’re able to pull it through until you free the handcuffs from the ceiling chain. You immediately begin working the chain connecting the cuffs, trying to line up the links just right to get the tension you need to break them apart. “C’mon, c’mon,” you groan in frustration as your eyes dart between the cuffs and the ongoing fight.

It’s going as poorly as you knew it would. Granted, Hawks is certainly giving a valiant effort. Dabi is cut and bleeding in several places. A few of the staples on his arms and face are even detached. But there is no questioning who is leading. Hawks could barely fly in the confines of the room anyway but now even if he had the space he wouldn’t have the feathers to do so. He’s breathing heavy and there’s already large angry patches of red skin from the burns he’s received. He can’t afford to throw away any more feathers by sending them at Dabi from all angles so the most he can do is duck and weave Dabi’s flames as much as possible to try and get in close and get in an incapacitating hit. Then you see the determined look in his eye, despite the fact he’s fighting a losing battle, and your blood turns to ice in your veins. It’s like watching your mother’s last moments all over again. One lone hero against a force they clearly can’t beat and yet so, so determined to press on. At least back then the tv screen had put distance between you and the struggle. Now you were watching a hero fall in real time.

You watch in horror as Dabi finally gets the hit he was waiting for and Hawks goes careening to the side. You continue to fumble with the cuffs, the tension constantly falling away just before it can break the chain keeping you from helping Hawks. Dabi laughs and it’s a cruel sound as Hawks has no choice but to curl up and cover his head and vital organs from the raging blue flames. Tears are flowing down your face and your vision blurs as you watch Dabi slowly approach the fallen hero before kicking him in the stomach once, twice, three times. The links of the handcuffs catch and once again you begin to bend them in hopes this time the tension will finally break them apart. “What will be left of you if I clip your wings?” Dabi cackles as he reaches for what little is left of the appendages in question. But before he can do anything the cuffs finally snap. Your quirk comes roaring back to the surface and no sooner do you feel it swell within you are you directing every ounce of it at Dabi, your eyes glowing with the power of it. Dabi slams into the back wall and you surge forward to put yourself between him and Hawks, who looks on the verge of passing out. “Well, well, well. He wasn’t kidding when he said your quirk was strong. This makes things interesting,” Dabi smirks as he slowly gets back to his feet. “Really? Because I’m already bored of you,” you fire back before surging forward and wielding your quirk with a ferocity you never had before.

You’re not a trained hero. Technically what you’re doing is illegal, considering you don’t have any kind of hero’s license. None of that matters in this moment though. What Dabi had on you in experience, you compensated for with agility. It isn’t enough to get you a win but it can buy you time as you pray more help is on the way. Your ribs are aching, you’ve acquired several severe burns, and you’re starting to slow down but still you push and for the first time you think you understand why your mother made the choice she did. Suddenly a familiar voice echoes through the room. “DIE!” Bakugo screams as he comes crashing in, tackling Dabi in one explosive move. You don’t stop to see the result, your faith fully in your friend as you rush to where Hawks is lying unconscious on the ground. You wrap one of his arms around your shoulders and do your best to stand, half walking half dragging him out of the room. You don’t look back until you’ve managed to get him outside of the building but even still you can hear the sound of Dabi and Bakugo’s fight.

“Hawks? Hawks! C’mon I need you to wake up. I need you to wake up for me,” you plead as you lay him down on the concrete, kneeling beside him. You pat his face repeatedly until finally you get his eyes to flutter open. “Oh thank god! Are you trying to get yourself killed? Jesus Hawks!” you sigh, already cataloging his various injuries to report to emergency services. “Keigo.” “What?” “My real name. It’s Keigo. You... you can’t use it where someone might hear but you can use it.” His voice sounds so weak you could cry again. “Your eyes are glowing. ‘S beautiful,” he chuckles, reaching a hand up to cup your face before passing back out. “It’s gonna be ok Keigo,” you reply in a hushed voice, although you doubt he hears you. It’s not too long after that you hear the familiar rumble of Chargebolt’s motorcycle as he races to the location, Mirko arriving shortly thereafter. “They’re inside! Hawks needs urgent medical attention,” you tell them before they can ask. Mirko gives a curt nod and rushes into the building, following the sounds of the fight. Chargebolt hesitates as his eyes scan over your various injuries, the tear tracks still evident on your face from when you’d been crying earlier. “I’m fine, Denki. I promise. Just toss me your phone so I can call an ambulance and the cops. Dabi stole mine,” you assure him. He nods and does exactly that before racing in to help Mirko and Bakugo. As you dial the emergency services number your gaze returns to the number two hero. Almost all of his feathers have been burned away, leaving just the nubs of his wings and the immobile feathers at their base. Laying on his back the way he is, someone who didn’t know who he was wouldn’t be able to tell he’s supposed to have wings at all. Your heart aches as you can’t help but think how small he looks without them.

Author’s Note: I wanna give a big shout out to @dutchintheusa on tiktok who is the one I got the hack about escaping hand cuffs chained to the ceiling from that (y/n) uses here and how to escape handcuffs without a Bobby pin. He’s got a bunch of emergency/survival escape techniques as well as general advice to stay safe in a scary world. I would highly recommend checking him out. The fight is heavily inspired by the fight between Hawks and Dabi in the manga and the fact I have repeatedly wished I could insert myself into that room and protect Hawks (hence the spoiler tag). Also I listened to Tantrum by Ashnikko on repeat while writing this if you want an idea of the ~vibe~ of the fighting lmao.

Taglist [open]: @cathy8taffy @katzurras @grumpyfroggies @captaincyberqueen @itskindofafairything @420-uwu @someweirdshitman @oliviasslut @the-adzukibean @main-ruthyruth

#wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks #hawks x y/n #hopelessoa

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blankd · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on The Mitchells vs the Machines

I watched it a while ago and kept forgetting to post my thoughts on it, but some posts here on tumblr recently reminded me.

I disagree with the majority takeaways I see but is that not the spice of life?

As a standalone movie its inoffensive and the writing of it will likely exit my brain in a few months. However I can appreciate that the visual style was different from the typical fare and the mixture of 2d elements for visual embellishments were mostly enjoyable and well-suited for Katie as the POV character.

It's a bit "hyper" for my liking, but that's fine, it's likely intended for an audience that's accustomed to the flood that is the current norm of the internet. It was probably made with GIFable moments in mind and that is the most frequent content that is shared about it, so it certainly succeeded in that regard.

My more critical take is that jokes are delivered at the expense of what could be more authentic themes. Quips are made that draw attention to character flaws or undercut questions the movie should try to answer, but inevitably they are ignored to move onto the next joke or story beat.

The rest would fall more into spoiler territory, so read more for that.

--"They Were Both In the Wrong"

I personally disagree heavily with the thrust of how "both sides" were wrong when the degrees are disproportionate.

I've seen claims that Katie was "as in the wrong" as her father, but she's incredibly patient to the man who does her material harm.

I've yet to have seen someone say specifically what Katie did *wrong* to her father that is at all on par with the *years* he at best hasn't been able to interact with her or worse, actively refused to engage with her interests.

I would generously venture that her flaw was that she was more willing to communicate her feelings to strangers, but she easily talks to her mother and brother- her brother even helps her with her movies and she happily engages him with his own interests, which pivots the point back to how her father is physically/emotionally unavailable and led to the erosion and distance between the two of them.

Due to this, MvM comes across more as Kaite having to do so much more to guide her father rather than a more mutual learning experience for the both of them.

--"Technology that [Dis]Connects"

It's probably beyond the scope and intent of the film, but I was surprised there was no examination about why technology can be more alluring than interacting with physically present people.

For better or worse, the internet can be used as a means of supplementing the validation and acceptance of family. It can also lead to no longer connecting to people around them because of the validation high of appealing to a constantly 'awake' sea of strangers- the spotlight is warmer than the cold reality that they are not the internet image they have cultivated.

For example, the rival 'perfect' family was never revealed to be a carefully constructed highlight reel that Mrs. Mitchell envies, they really were actually that perfect- because that provides an easier punchline than an examination or acknowledgement of how the internet can create unhealthy expectations.

I also can't expect MvM to acknowledge the reality that LGBTA+ people who are rejected by their family resort to seeking a new one through the internet because it would be much harder to redeem/rehabilitate a man defined by being tethered to "old values" if he was homophobic instead of "overprotective" and apprehensive at his daughter's departure from home and her dubious art career.

But hey we got that quick line at the end that Katie likes a girl, so that's a diversity win or something.

(To be clear I'm not expecting a whole parade or even an A or B-plot dedicated to it, but I think it should be acknowledged that this kind of "surprise inclusion" is very easily erased with a change of audio and would be completely unsurprised if this were the case for countries that are homophobic. People can be happy about it, but it is dishonest to pretend that this is a bolder statement than it is.)

In that sense, I do and don't hold MvM to taking a "safer" route about how family always has your back, but this still feels like an important omission considering the focus on technology and its dynamic with the Mitchells.

I will also say that it was also bizarre, to me at least, that the obvious route that her father sees the value of home videos didn't become an active point between him and Katie. Or that Mr. Mitchell's carpentry never really amounts to anything despite having a sentimental wooden moose.

Lastly, I think it's an unintentional, but it's interesting that Katie going to college to pursue her passion is viewed as a Terrible Thing by her father even though if he had his way, he'd be ostensibly living in the woods away from everyone else except his wife.

This isn't a problem, people are a collection of contradictions, but It's fascinating to see what the *narrative* treats as a difficult sacrifice while simultaneously pulling at heartstrings when PAL cites how children ignore their mothers. There's an unexamined comedy that Mr. Mitchell's losing out on his 'passion' to live in the woods away from people is treated as tragic despite the movie's insistence on staying connected with your blood family.

--"The Inconsistent Personhood of AI"

PAL is rightfully angry at being discarded for something new; it's provided as a glimpse of what Katie will do when she finds 'her people' at college.

This in of itself is a good hook, because there is no one universal answer to when a flawed relationship should be mended with compromise or if it's better off being broken for the wellbeing of the ones involved. Family and relationships are not programming, it's a choice and a gamble for whatever it brings but is nonetheless something that must be mutually worked upon.

Initially I thought that PAL was being set up as an exaggerated parallel to Mr. Mitchell. PAL and Mr. Mitchell did their best to provide for their family. PAL and Mr. Mitchell are in different stages of being 'discarded' by their family. PAL and Mr. Mitchell both retaliate at their lack of power in the scenario by using the power granted by their roles to infringe on the autonomy of others for selfish reasons.

PAL even gives a 'chance' for her plan to be halted with, I had assumed this was being set up as the thesis of the movie, about humanity and the value of family, relationships, etc. being used to help someone who is already hurting.

But despite Katie looking at the camera and explaining herself, it is never actually directly resolved or challenged because a punchline was deemed more desirable for this narrative climax.

This begs the question of why PAL bothered with the pretense that she could be reasoned with, especially since this is not some question leveled at all of humanity, just two people.

I'm curious how the writers came to the conclusion that this was the best execution of the scene or if Katie's speech was considered immune to any challenge from PAL. Would anyone have accepted this outcome if PAL were not an AI but instead a person?

It's not necessarily bad writing they went this route, but I doubt anyone would consider this good writing either.

By the end of the movie, PAL is no longer a 'person' who was betrayed and is lashing out, she is an object to be destroyed because the movie has to wrap up. No compassion or chances are spared to this AI that did literally everything asked of her except take being discarded quietly.

Did PAL deserve a redemption arc? For this length of movie, probably not. But it could have concluded with a commitment to doing no further harm. Instead it is an accidental glimpse at how easily the pretense of compassion can be quickly discarded and mostly unexamined with the right framing.

A likely unintentional example is the conditional humanity given to Eric and Deborahbot who are adopted as "family" while the rest of the robots are mowed down without another thought. Some are even beaten and broken while begging for mercy, because again, it is a funnier punchline.

Far be it for me to advocate that the murderbots needed 'a second chance uvu' but for a movie whose conceit rests on 'sticking by family' and 'giving chances', the writers certainly made a choice in deciding which AI get honorary humanity and spared violent death- perhaps PAL had a point about humanity's callousness after all. Bad robots are discarded, good robots get to live.

Even the CEO who realizes he enabled this mess (easily the most unrealistic part of the movie, honestly) is given another chance and he manages to take away a completely wrong lesson.

Speaking of-

--"Maybe I Shouldn’t Have Used Tech Like This"

There's a particular image/gif set posted about MvM with the CEO apologizing for the machine uprising, attributing it to unchecked technology and monopolies. I've always seen it accompanied by people congratulating the scene as if any of this is at all relevant to the movie.

Charitably, these are people who haven't watched the movie and don't know that PAL is a phone AI single-handedly doing this, but most take the stance that this scene is proof the movie is not saying technology is bad, only corporations are.

The speech isn't technically wrong but it is so utterly divorced from what happens in the movie that it's surreal to see people congratulate it as anything but a moment of soapboxing.

None of the datagrabbing was used at all as part of the takeover. It's all magical kid-friendly terminators with no relevance to what anyone's browsing history is. If the company was one that produced robot assistants instead of a being a super tech monopoly, there would be no narrative difference.

The closest to a predatory tactic that is used in MvM is the offer of free wifi which is used to lure most people into their cells which they happily comply with. Curiously this... commentary of people’s mindless addiction to technology is not acknowledged by the Tumblr Court with the same intensity as the CEO’s speech.

But more constructively, I do feel it’s a missed opportunity that Katie who's supposed to be an extremely online person apparently never said any bad things about her family or made any petty vent films for PAL to weaponize. Instead an in-media audio at one of the outskirt locations was used to accomplish its Traitor Revealed moment.

IN CONCLUSION

MvM is a movie that involves topics that ought to be touched on and explored properly in media and chickens out on all of it due to possible concerns with age-appropriate handling or because it was more committed to its comedy than whatever it has to say about family, change and how technology affects people.

It also reminded me that I hope media will finally graduate from the trope that if you spec into any ‘outdoorsy’ hobby you are incurably afraid of technology.

#the mitchells vs the machines #let me ramble to you #text post #hot takes probably

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 3 years

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Hi could you talk more about why youd recommend not watching ww84?

Sure!

warnings for under the cut: spoilers for WW84 and a bit of the first wonder woman; i only saw WW84 once a few days ago + it’s been a hot sec since i saw the original so if i get a few details wrong i apologize

tl;dr with no spoilers: WW84 is a poorly executed movie that insults its viewer with its messy and self-proud plot, bad character/relationship portrayals, and offers a personal slap in the face to a majority of its audience in their various discriminations, generalizations, and plot points.

the first point is the racism, made well by the post i reblogged here, (edit: found a second post that goes more in depth here) so i’d just suggest looking at that for that matter

next is just How they portray wonder woman in this one

i really appreciated the way the first movie portrayed diana because they did very well in keeping true to her Amazonian raising and life while still clearly showing she was a woman

when i say this i mean that a lot of media has a tendency to either make women who are very fem and keep to traditional gender roles or women who more or less shun femininity and attempt to largely fulfill only male gender roles

diana in the original is a warrior, strong and fierce, but still a woman, not trying to shun that or anything. she wears styles that suit her while still being woman’s styles (she doesn’t force her way into a suit), she talks of and addresses her womanhood proudly and without issue, etc

i want to note here i have no issue with female characters who act extremely masc and reject femininity- i love them tbh- but it’s important to remember that it’s not inherently against womanhood or anything to be a strong fighter who doesn’t stick to every stereotypical social gender norm

and the first wonder woman movie shows this very well

WW84... oh boy

first of all, wonder woman’s changing outfits every other scene. even between scenes where it makes no sense! i’m not saying she can only wear one set of clothes but Geez this was too much

not to mention an entire scene dedicated to her helping steve pick a fashion look? i understand this was to highlight the ‘80-ness of the movie, and it would’ve been fine if it seemed diana was helping him pick a period appropriate look, but it was clear she was trying to help him pick a ‘fashionable’ look which. wonder woman? from the island without a sense of popular outfits or fashion? what?

and the amount of focus on her wearing high heels.... ugh

i’m not saying you can’t have a badass woman who also likes social gender norm fem things but it felt clear that wasn’t what they were going for

wonder woman in the first movie liked practical fashion and not only were many of her outfits not that, her high heels? one hundred percent not practical

it didn’t fit her character and felt horribly out of place, clearly just the producers / directors / whoever going ‘oh, wonder woman is a woman how can we show this? fashion! high heels!’ and i hated it

(warning: imma be jumping from thought to thought as they bump into each so uh... enjoy the train-of-thought style of flaw informing)

and starting at the beginning like.... wow that scene had no purpose

wonder woman cheats in a competition and is punished for this by losing it in the end. except. this is stupid for two reasons

as the audience is shown she didn’t cheat on purpose. she made a mistake, lost her horse, and made a strategy to get back into the race despite this. honestly? i thought the story was going to be a lesson in ingenuity in the worst looking situations. but it wasn’t, which is bad storytelling, because the lesson is then based on a point that isn’t even that true

it is literally Never important again later. unless you count what was going on with the wishstone as ‘cheating to victory’ which i dont. that’s not even what the villain did. he wanted to take over the world. there’s no victory there you get without cheating. wtf. why did that message even happen

going into the actual story we meet the cheetah pretty quick, when she’s still whatever-her-civilian-name-is

and the cheetah... she’s such a bad villain

she doesn’t have the same backstory as she does in the comics

in this one, she uses the wishstone- which is a whole ‘nother thing in and of itself- to wish to be like diana, because ig being smart as hell but social awkward as hell too is so bad you need to desperately wish to be someone else? i hate that trope, but onwards-

she gets that, but in exchange for not only diana’s likable personality she also gets her wonder woman powers (and she loses her glasses, because pretty and cool means no glasses, right? /s), she loses her kindness bc of the rules of the wishstone- in exchange for your wish, it takes smth u care about a lot from you; for her, it was her kindness

this makes her villain! just because she lost her kindness. yep. honestly not a good look regarding all those people out there who are low/no empathy and can still be wonderful nice people but i digress

at one point she complains about why she needs to keep her power rather than go back to being just Her and i fucking wanted to scream

she has like. half a dozen degrees, clearly a couple of friends even if she’s awkward, and she’s got a life that was perfectly okay before she made the wish. as someone who is also socially awkward as hell, it infuriated me to here her acting like it was the fucking end of the world she couldn’t be more extroverted or whatever. there are ways to work on that!!! the movie trying to convince the audience she had a legit reason to not un-wish her wish (for the good of the entire world) was stupid and insulting

also her transformation between ‘looks human, wearing cheetah-pattern clothing‘ to ‘humanoid with cheetah fur/skin/appearance’ literally just. happened. for no reason. that was stupid

y’know what else is stupid? the wishstone. it was clearly just a plot device, and a poorly executed one at that. it isn’t even consistent in how it works

and they did a whole side thing with like. how it had the language of the gods written on part of it and it appeared in random locations across history around the time of great tragedies and,,, that was it???

they never explored the divine connection??? who planted it or why??? how it location traveled or anything????

like i said. poor plot device

i move on now to steve

oh boy steve

he’s brought back to life by diana’s wish on the wishstone, but... it causes him to come back in someone else’s body, quantum leap style. this is. weird. and is never ever addressed by him or wonder woman except once in a throw away comment. like. diana and steve kiss and are implied to have sex while steve is in someone else’s body and neither of them seem to care. this is not good!!

and then his relationship with diana? HORRIBLE

in the first movie they were barely starting to fall in love, only barely a couple even if that. more importantly they were friends, and that night he died diana didn’t lose a potential lover so much as she lost her first non-Amazonian friend

but WW84 portrays their relationship as if they were not only already a couple, but one close enough that even after forty years since steve’s death diana is still completely and hopelessly in love with him to the point that she’s literally hanging off his arm as soon as he’s back and making love that very night

it plays again once more into the misrepresentation of wonder woman’s character (how stereotypically hollywood female to fall over herself at the sight of her love interest) and it wrecks their relationship, which had been a lovely friends-who-could-be-more

what they should’ve done was focus on that friendship, build it back up after the long gap for wonder woman, and then started to rebuild that possible romance (and tear it down at the perfect moment... right when steve had to go again... ah that would’ve been lovely)

but they wanted to go in full-haul on the romance and it just felt. wrong and weak to me. diana’s refusal to consider giving up her wish (to get her powers back and save the world) is bc she doesn’t want to let steve go again, which makes more sense in the context of a first and true friend rather than a hastily slapped together love interest

steve’s character was generally good tbh but the way he played into the story? bad

moving on... the main villain of the movie? sucks. he’s just. fucking awful

despite a motivation being given that he wants to have money, he launches into wanting to take over the world for no real reason. he takes advantage of people for this and almost destroys the world he wants to rule for it. the main reason he stops this is for his son, who up until now he largely ignored and didn’t seem to care that much for outside of basic obligations. and the movie dares try to make him sympathetic by throwing in the fact he grew up poor and was bullied and not liked which i HATE

lots of people are/have been poor. lots of people are/have been bullied (myself included). that does NOT justify them DESTROYING THE WORLD TRYING TO TAKE IT OVER. can it be used to show the audience why he does what he does? yes. but to use it and clearly try to make it a reason to hand-wave-away what he did? NO. FUCK NO

also fucking. y’know how wonder woman took down this villain? she talked to him and the world. she gave a stirring speech while she laid slumped against a wall, not injured, just too weak to beat a bit of wind. she talked and she looped her lasso around his leg so she could talk to the world to to convince them to give up their wishes

once again... the mischaracterization

in the first movie, wonder woman gives a stirring speech while fighting Areas. it’s done in her battle, beating the god of war up while reminding him of what she stood for, who she was, why she would keep fighting for a broken world

it was BEAUTIFUL. it was MEANINGFUL. it was BADASS but SINCERE

this was weak. and it clearly wanted to be more than it was

the whole movie wants to be more than it is- it wants to have an important meaningful message like the first movie, about wishes for the self and war and the world and whatever. and it wants it so badly it does it horribly

the message is ham-handed yet messy and unclear and not right. it doesn’t make sense, and it feels poorly plotted. the movie thinks it’s more than it is and that makes it very hard to watch

and to finish my rant off... WW84 lied to its audience

did you see any ads for WW84? i did. they were bright, vibrant, funky music, stunning moments, action and intrigue. i was thrilled for a movie like it

the actual movie isn’t that

it’s not nearly as action filled, it’s not as ‘80s-focused as it leads you to believe, some of the most prominently featured moments barely matter

the lightning swing? pointless, as at that point in the movie wonder woman’s learned how to fly and does it for no reason but the trailers

and that cool suit? introduced in a random myth for no reason halfway through the movie, brought in at random with no explanation, only there for show and the trailers

WW84 is not the movie is lead people to believe it was, and the movie it is is poorly executed and insulting to a variety of peopler/minorities

if you’re gonna watch it, pirate it. i can give you a link. just don’t give dc your money or your legit views for it

#that got long #but what can i say? im passionate about my bad movies #and ww84?#that was a bad movie #if anyone wants clarification on smth let me know #wonder woman 1984 #ww84 #ww84 spoilers #the cryptid speaks #lost in the fray

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theninjasheeep · 3 years

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Blood of Love

Pairing: Pieck Finger x Porco Galliard (Modern/Fantasy AU)

This is my entry for @pleasantanathema’s Through Ink and Quill | A Classics Collab. I decided to go for a character study of Porco and Pieck's relationship following my Pokkopiku week piece Sweet Pandemonium paired with some vampire lore from Dracula and Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles.

The idea of vampire!Pokkopiku came from @sinnamon19’s over the top fan art.

You can also read it on AO3.

Summary: Since they are creatures of the night, their senses, as their feelings are heightened to lengths that can’t be explained by words. But since blood is their life sustenance, it is also their means of communication.

Warnings/tags: Pokopiku, Pokkopiku, Gallipieck, Porco Galliard/ Pieck Finger, Porco Galliard x Pieck Finger, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Character Turned Into Vampire, Vampire Bites, Vampire Turning, Blood Drinking, Mentions of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Blood Sharing.

Blood of Love

Waking up in darkness after spending most of his life shunning the sun when he wanted to sleep late was a welcome change for Porco. He could lie and pretend he was one of those humans-turned-vampires who wailed about the sun, its warmth and brightness and how much he missed it, but he didn't.

He didn't miss the impending sense of foreboding dread that clogged his senses or the tacit expectation that life should have some kind of meaning. It was a succession of routines: being born, growing up, reproducing and dying; waking up, going to work or school, coming home, going to sleep and starting again the next day. There was always an unsatisfied craving, a need to be satiated that gave rise to another....

If it weren't for that same life and the unexpected, he would still be stuck in the routine of a life that no longer felt like one. Not so long ago he was eager to die and escape the curse of boredom. However, now that he was undead, he felt more alive than ever.

He didn't miss living as a human.

He did not miss the wars that sent young men like him to fight in battles and advocate for ideals that were in no sense his own. Wars like the ones that took his brother away from him, wars that made mothers cry and lose their lives to grief, like his. He didn't miss being part of a greater good, he fancied being selfish, living only for himself and what he deemed worthy of living for, like Pieck.

Pieck who turned him, Pieck who gave him a reason to live in hope and love.

The stories that are told about vampires are rich and wide-ranging. The majority depict them as cold and devoid of emotion creatures who enjoy drinking blood and playing with their mortal victims without any consideration or pity, with no regard for their suffering.

Dracula is the one that, for Porco, is closest to the truth. Leaving out, naturally, his own inability to turn into mist, a bat or a wolf, and how terribly he has fared with the latter when he has encountered them on his nightly hunts with Pieck high in the mountains, puts him quite a distance from what is supposed to be the blueprint for all vampires.

It has been less than fifteen years since Pieck agreed to turn him and allow him to stay with her forever. Overall, he could even be considered a novice vampire, at least in comparison to the more than two hundred years his female partner has been crisscrossing the planet. However, it has been long enough to learn what is both necessary and appropriate, but what the books say is, amongst other things, preposterous and out of proportion.

Porco's hazel eyes, in the darkness of the room, shine like two torches as they scan the words in each book with unprecedented speed.

The library, nestled in Pieck's hideout in an abandoned town once called Liberio, is about the same size as the house itself. To the unsuspecting eye, the house is a dilapidated old manor from which thieves plundered the treasures long ago, leaving only the massive stone and iron columns. Underneath, however, is a hidden cellar and a sealed passageway that can only be opened with the supernatural strength of a creature like Pieck. Not even he, with his years beside her and the same superhuman strength, is able to open it without visible effort.

Once that initial obstacle is overcome, a long corridor rises up with small windows that let in just enough light to clue the nighttime inhabitants as to what time of day they are in. And behind that corridor is a scaled-down replica of the ruined house that exists above ground: three bedrooms, a kitchen - more out of habit than necessity - a living room and a huge bathroom with a bathtub built into the wall, in addition to the library, make up what could be considered Porco and Pieck's home sweet home.

Although it is ridiculous, Porco is not going to stop enjoying his reading and perusing every nook and cranny of the library while Pieck, with all her quirks, tries to do some vampire yoga in the room across on their home.

Stories about vampires always depict them as a kind of blood-drinking skeleton barely able to articulate words and unfit to walk freely in broad daylight, as the sun is their greatest enemy. The only thing they got right is that their skin burns and the acrid smell of ashes is the only thing that lingers in the air after they perish.

In other stories, they are portrayed as having no emotional capacity and could be easily mistaken for an angsty teenagers searching for their identity and place in the world, with little to no impulse control, driven by their whims, manipulating their way until they achieve their goal. In these tales, the depiction is so over-the-top ridiculous that it is almost comparable to handing a child a panic button.

What is undeniable is the enormous capacity of humans to envision and demonize what they do not know.

Superhuman strength and speed, mind reading and control, morphing into wolves, bats and mist? The books detail how versatile their powers are, how they are able to cloak themselves, thanks to their human appearance, and hide for long periods of time in large communities and lead a relatively normal life, without arousing suspicion.

Although there are also accounts that refer to them as ruthless, cruel and stone-cold beings, who toy with the humans they intend to use as food until they have had enough, and only then, kill them in the most violent and painful way possible.

At this, Porco rolls his eyes. In his experience, both he and Pieck are careful with the humans they feed on. They always look for ways not to cause them pain or fear, and above all, to avoid leaving behind scenes worthy of a gorey b-movie.

Perhaps the only time such a scene involved the two of them was when Pieck agreed to transform him into a vampire.

There was a moment where he couldn’t see or speak anything and everything went black for him. He started to listen to a heartbeat, two actually. One was his... the other...

“Pieck?” He asks. He can hear her voice somewhere in the distance, it sounds pained and far, far away.

Meanwhile, Pieck keeps pouring her blood on Porco’s mouth and is silently praying to whatever it is that created them and allowed them to be alive for him to survive this ordeal. She’s panicking now because he’s very pale, dead by now, but he’s not responding to her calling like he is supposed to.

“Porco, wake up!” She cries. “Open your eyes,” She pleads. “Come to me!”

Nothing happens and Pieck panics, falling in a circle of self loathing.

Giving up on him, she lets her head fall on his chest and at this point she’s just a mess of guilt and anguish. Her hair is on her face and his shirt is all bloody with his blood, her blood, her tears. She can’t move, the will to do anything has left her completely so she just lays there beside him on the floor crying.

He hasn’t read anything that depicts accurately how they are created. Probably humans think they just popped out of nowhere. However, vampires themselves have a myth: Ymir Fritz was the first human turned into a vampire, many call her the Founder. She was a slave but became Queen of Eldia when King Fritz was unable to defeat her in battle. He surrendered and married her and, in turn, she made him into a vampire and together they gave birth to their species.

Where are they now? No one knows, they are probably marble statues, since the longer a vampire lives, the whiter and rougher their skin becomes.

One book in particular catches his eye: its dark blue cover with gold sparkles featuring a nine-pointed star, the symbol of Ymir Fritz. However, after a brief glance, he discovers that it is a parody.

Porco snorts, he can't believe he's found a book in which vampires don't roast in the sun, but glow like a fairy in plain daylight without any repercussions for their lives. Pieck must have been really bored to get —and keep— something like that and deem it worthy of their huge underground library.

"Have you found anything interesting, Pokko?" Pieck's mellow voice reaches his ears from the bedroom. Her body doesn't make any sounds when she moves, but her soft breathing tells him that she's still trying to do vampire yoga, as if she needs to.

"Geez, Pieck!" Her taunting giggle is the only response he gets, and aware that she can also hear him from where she is, he retorts: "You scared the hell out of me." He grumbles in fake annoyance.

"Don’t worry, you won’t have a heart attack."

“Tch.”

But it is true, no matter how much she may sneak up behind him to scare him, his heart has long since stopped beating, and if he had remained a human, he would most likely have died many years ago. When Pieck came into his life one night, wounded and seeking shelter, he had lost the will to live. All that remained from the happy Porco who lived with his parents and brother was a mere shell that always reminded him of how much he resembled Marcel. And had he lived, despite his desire to die, he would have been almost forty years old by now.

Putting the books aside and getting up from the floor, Porco makes his way to the bathroom where there is a huge full-length mirror, which he and Pieck use in such creative ways when they make love at night.

A derisive smirk tugs at his lips as his reflection glances back at him through the mirror. There are stories that claim vampires don't see themselves in mirrors and that's the reason they avoid them. If only whoever wrote that knew the things the mirror in his bathroom has seen him do to Pieck.

Sometimes, when he is overcome by melancholy and Pieck's love and company fail to reach the deepest wounds in his heart, Porco wishes that particular myth were real. What would his life be if his brother were alive? What would Marcel's life be if the war hadn't extinguished the light in his eyes? The same deep green eyes that right now were scrutinizing his every feature in the mirror.

As the years have gone by, his skin has become paler and his eyes more golden. Pieck likes to say that he is slowly turning into a lion.

Speaking of Pieck...

A slender hand appears over his right shoulder in the mirror, and down his arm until it curls around his waist. Seconds later, the weight of Pieck's head resting on the space between his shoulder blades confirms that he is no longer alone in front of the mirror.

“Hey,” She greets, nuzzling against him tenderly, “what are you thinking?”

He clears his throat, embarrassed.

His left hand reaches up and intertwines his fingers with Pieck's over his chest, and looking behind him, his gaze meets hers.

“My brother.”

Pieck's embrace grows tighter and a line of kisses and scratches from her fangs on his neck make Porco forget, for a moment, how much he misses his family.

“I’m sorry.”

“You know they were long gone before I met you.”

“I know, it’s just...” She releases her hold on him, walking a few steps to stand in front of him in the mirror, her back against it. “I wish I could ease your pain, but I’d be lying if I say that I never think about my father, I miss him.”

Porco raises his hand to caress her cheeks. “You’re stuck with me forever, remember?”

She smiles softly, leaning against him and hugging him back. Porco buries his face on her neck and taking advantage of their embrace, sinks his teeth on her neck, making her moan in delight.

There’s another thing the books about them seem to ignore or purposefully miss: yes, they are creatures of the night and as their senses, their feelings are heightened to lengths that can’t be explained by words. But since blood is their life sustenance, it is also their means of communication. Drinking the blood of another vampire is a gesture so intimate and so rare, that when it’s done by partners, it’s more than just a confession of love and trust, it goes beyond lust and desire: a vampire can show what they feel through images to their partner when they share their blood, and since words are not his forte by any means, he’s always eager to show Pieck comfort and reciprocate everyday the comfort and peace she gave him.

Licking the tiny marks of his fags on her neck, he nuzzles against it, kissing her tenderly. Pieck, being smaller than him, has a harder time reciprocating his gesture, but she stands on her tiptoes and kisses him back, biting his lower lip and drinking his blood as well.

Emboldened by the gesture, he carries her and sits her in the sink, standing between her legs without breaking the kiss. At this, Pieck leverages herself on his shoulders and —finally— sinks her teeth on his neck, eliciting from him a low growl. He bites her back and through their blood they both convey to each other what their words and their hands, roaming over every inch of the other' s body, cannot: they are together until the end of time and the sadness that each one carries is shared by the other.

Together, they were safe.

#pokopiku fic #pokopiku #pokkopiku fic #pokkopiku #porco galliard/pieckfinger #porco galliard x pieck finger #gallipieck #vampire aesthetic #dark fantasy

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kinktae · 5 years

Text

bitchin’ || (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

pairing: fratboy!jungkook x reader

word count: 4.8k

genre: 1980s au, eventual smut, e2l

warnings: multiple smut scenes, science talk, banter, jealousy, alcohol & LOTS of colorful 80s slang lmao

A/N: Bitchin’ is a multichapter fic, surprise!! This fic was inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. Thank you to @junqkook for letting me use her likeness and helping me with Yara’s character overall.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

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PART ONE

12:16 pm.

The time on the clock was glaring at you, a silent caution that today's lab was going to totally suck.

You could feel irritation start to eat away at you. You and your best friend, Yara, had a deal. She would show up to the dissection today and, in exchange, you would gladly do all the work. But given that class would start in four minutes, you had a sneaking suspicion that Yara was going to in fact skip class after all.

You let your chin sink down into the comfort of your open palm, eyes flickering once again towards the black and white clock that was perched up above the classroom's blackboard. Usually, you could hear each small tick of time, but seeing as this lab was more exciting, every student in the room was currently chatting amongst their peers, covering the clock's sound.

You considered for a moment making conversation with your professor. That idea was quickly squashed once you realized that he too was preoccupied – his attention set on the clock as well, allowing the minute hand to make its final journey before beginning the class.

Suddenly, you realized that not only had Yara left you alone, but she had also left you without a partner to do the dissection. You glanced around the room, frowning as you saw that every other table was evenly numbered, meaning you would be forced to join a random pair to make a group of three.

Wicked.

"Good afternoon, everyone." Mr. Kim began, pausing to take a swig from his coffee mug. "I hope everyone read the email I sent out yesterday in regards to proper attire. If anyone isn't wearing actual shoes, then I suggest you beat it unless you're particularly amped at the idea of losing a toe when someone accidentally drops their scalpel."

A few isolated giggles rang out, but no one made any move to leave.

"No one? Radical. Feet are gross anyway–"

The sound of the classroom door suddenly being pushed open stole away everyone's attention. The late boy that walked in froze momentarily, clearly not expecting all eyes to fall onto him, but quickly regained his composure as he flashed a smile.

"Sorry I'm late, Seokjin." He apologized lazily.

"Better late than never, Jeon." Mr. Kim acknowledged briefly, raising an eyebrow. "Although, if you call me Seokjin again then you'll be the next thing I have the class dissect."

The threat was empty and pulled a shared laugh from the students, including the one it was directed at.

You hardly had time to laugh yourself because before you knew it, the boy was headed towards your table.

Not wanting to hold eye contact with the tardy student as he made his way over, you let your stare fall onto your lap. The worn-out denim of your jeans wasn't distraction enough from the sound of the boy taking a seat beside you, his bag being thrown carelessly onto the floor.

Glancing at him from the corner of your eyes, you watched as he began to rummage through it.

Jeon Jungkook.

You had recognized him the moment he had stepped in; the two of you had attended the same high school after all. Not that he knew that. You were reasonably sure that the two of you never crossed paths back then. Well, unless you count the time him and his asshole friends tore down the pep rally banners you and the party planning committee had spent so much time on.

You were well aware of the fact that he was in this class as well, but this was by far the closest you had ever physically come to him.

Jungkook was the kind of guy people noticed– muscular build, dark, messy hair with an attractive smile. Not that any of that interested you, of course. As far as you were concerned, he was still the same disruptive tool that he was in high school

Oh, god. Please don't let him be your partner.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Jungkook spoke suddenly, heat rocketing through your body as you realized you had yet to pull your eyes off of him.

"S-Sorry!" You stuttered out, turning in your seat so that he couldn't meet your eyes, horrified that he had caught you staring at him so openly.

Jungkook clearly didn't think much of it your total social faux pas, as a boyish laugh escaped him.

"Don't sweat it." He shrugged, dropping a sheet of paper and a pen in front of him. "I'm Jeon Jungkook, by the way."

"Yep." You nodded absentmindedly.

He seemed taken aback at your response, noticeably confused. A nervous giggle escaped you, realizing how incapable of communicating you had become.

"Uh! I just meant–– I know who you are. We, like, went to high school together." You admitted, leg bouncing anxiously under the table. "I'm Y/N."

Jungkook cocked his head, clearly surprised. "Oh shit, did we?"

You let out a noise of confirmation.

Mr. Seokjin suddenly began speaking to the class, and you turned your attention to your professor as he started to introduce the lab.

"Who was in your circle?" Jungkook asked as if he didn't even hear his professor speaking.

You offered him a sparing glance, "What?"

"Like your friend group. You had friends, right?" Jungkook teased.

"Yes, I had friends." A serious tone on your tongue, trying to somehow still listen to what your professor was saying while Jungkook conversed with you. "I just… don't think you'd know of any of them."

Jungkook seemed unsatisfied with your response, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Did you do something? Like were you on any teams or anything?"

For a moment, you contemplated telling Jungkook to bag his face, that you were actually trying to hear what Mr. Kim was saying as you genuinely cared about passing this class. But seeing as he was sitting beside you, it was probably best not to piss him off.

"Well," You began cautiously, keeping your voice low, "I was a member of mathletes–"

Jungkook cut you off immediately.

"Woah, hold on. Mathletes? Like math?"

You turned towards him, fighting back the urge to roll your eyes. You weren't at all surprised by his reaction. You couldn't imagine someone like Jungkook who spent the majority of high school cracking out jokes from the back of the classroom giving a single shit about academics.

"Yes, like math. I was also in our marching band." You offered as if that would make any difference to him.

"So... you were a loser. Gotcha." He mused, causing you to frown slightly.

Alright, asshole...

"No." You countered calmly, trying not to reveal how offended you were. "We just had different interests."

"Like totally different." He grinned stupidly.

"Yep." You responded dryly, turning away from the dark-haired boy. You were also student body treasurer, but frankly, you no longer cared enough to tell him that. Your self-esteem wasn't fragile enough to be shattered by some asswipe calling you a loser, but it certainly didn't feel good.

"Alright, so with that said, go ahead and pair up. Coats and goggles are in the back of the room. Don't let me catch you doing anything stupid and have fun." Mr. Seokjin's words caught your attention, luring out another sigh from you.

Sliding off your stool, you tried your best to avoid the stare that Jungkook was pressing against your skull, walking into the crowd of chatting students who were making their way over towards the back. Surely he had friends in this class that he could partner up with. You'll just join someone else's group.

You were just beginning to button up your white lab coat when a towering presence made its way over to you.

"So, nerd." Jungkook's voice called out, reaching around you for a lab coat. "Are we doing this thing or what?"

'Or what.' You could feel yourself wanting to answer back almost immediately.

You turned away from Jungkook to glance over the room, feeling your shoulders sink as you realized everyone was partnered and you were undoubtedly stuck with him.

Jungkook stood there, an amused look on his face as you gave him a skeptical one as if measuring him up.

"Fine." You answered begrudgingly, grabbing a pair of goggles of their rack. "But I'm taking the lead on the dissection. You can take notes and observe what we find."

Just because you were agreeing to partner up with him didn't mean you were willing to sacrifice your lab grade. And if Jungkook didn't like that then… well… he could go find someone else to annoy all class.

At your words, Jungkook let out a laugh of surprise, clearly not expecting such an authoritative tone.

"Damn, you got it, Captain. The geek ship is all yours." He joked cheekily, holding a hand to his head as if saluting you.

You sent him a tight-lipped smile, already collecting a few choice words you'd be gifting Yara the second you saw her.

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"God, gag me with a spoon." You grimaced, a foul odor attacking your nose as you bent over to get closer to the preserved frog you had laid out on your tray. You picked up the scalpel, trying to prepare yourself for the first cut mentally.

Jungkook's eyes flicked towards the creature before letting out a noise of awe.

"Oh, gnarly! One of its eyes is stuck open!"

"Don't say tell me that as I'm about to cut into it!" You squeaked out, gripping your blade. "That's not exactly a comforting observation as I'm about to expose its insides. Besides, I need you taking this seriously."

Jungkook raised his hands up by his chest, waving them defensively.

"Sorry, sorry. Happy cutting." He apologized, resting his chin in his palm.

The dissection wasn't particularly hard, in fact, if it had gone as you envisioned it – you cutting and describing what you saw with Jungkook writing down notes – you imagined it would go by rather quickly. Unfortunately for you, Jungkook had a constant need for small talk and very little desire to help get this lab completed quickly.

"Let's give him a name." He called out after maybe two minutes of uninterrupted silence.

"No."

Jungkook tutted in disappointment, "Why not?"

"It's dead, Jungkook." You reasoned.

"Doesn't mean he can't have a name." He pointed out. "I'm gonna call him Bernie."

You shut your eyes, stilling yourself as took in a deep breath.

"Jungkook... please. I'm just trying to do this lab. For the both of us." You responded, pulling away from the dead frog.

"And I'm trying to pass the time. For the both of us." He mocked, an attractive albeit irritating smile on his mouth.

You set down the cutting utensil, letting the metal clang against the tray, your temper finally catching up with you.

"Has anyone ever told you you're kind of insufferable?" You said pointedly.

You weren't usually this outwardly direct to people you hardly knew, but holy cow something about this kid pushed every single damn one of your buttons.

Annoyingly, Jungkook didn't even seem to notice your change in tone, a laugh escaping him.

"Well, you certainly wouldn't be the first. Definitely the first of your social status, though." He smirked. You let out an exasperated huff.

"What the hell is your damage?" You snapped.

"What do you mean?"

"I know a loser like me probably isn't your usual company and that you clearly don't give a shit about the fact that this lab is worth twenty percent of our grade but I do. All I want is to get this lab done so we can get the hell out of each others' hair. So if you have a problem with me or something that you want to get off your chest, speak now."

There were a few silent beats where the two of you just stared at each other, Jungkook looking pensive while your chest rose and fell slowly as you tried to control your angry breaths.

"Okay." He spoke finally, catching you off guard.

"Okay?"

"My girlfriend left me for another guy today. It's why I was late. I'm just trying to get my mind off shit, I guess. I'm sorry I keep calling you names, that's just how I joke around with my friends. It probably doesn't translate well with strangers who don't know me. So, I'm sorry. I'll stop." He explained softly, a foreign expression on his face.

You blinked.

"Oh. Uh, well... Apology accepted." You replied, awkwardly.

When you had gone on your little rant, you had been hoping that it would make Jungkook feel just uneasy enough to shut up and focus on the lab. You weren't expecting anything of substance to leave his mouth, so you really had no idea where to go from here. Especially with the way he was looking at you like you had just kicked him.

"I'm sorry... about your girlfriend."

Jungkook shrugged, "Shit happens."

"Did you, like, know the guy?" You asked cautiously in a weak attempt to comfort him.

"Yeah, he's one of my brothers." He nodded.

"She left you for your brother?!" You exclaimed, your jaw all but dropping. Immediately, Jungkook flinched, eyes flickering across the room where a couple of students had turned towards the two of you in interest.

"Pipe down, okay? I don't need everyone knowing my business, damn." He frowned, throwing you a glare.

"Sorry, I'm just... that's gonna be one awkward family dinner." You scrunched your nose.

"What? Oh no, not my actual brother. He's in the same fraternity as me. Frat brother." Jungkook clarified.

"Ohhh." You nodded.

His... fraternity brother. Of course.

You bit down on your lip.

Jungkook eyed you for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Go ahead."

"What?" You cocked your head in fake confusion.

"I already know what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?"

"You're thinking that me being in a frat just confirmed the fact that you think I'm some sort of meathead." He continued, rolling his eyes.

A sharp laugh fell through your lips and Jungkook's eyes widened at the sound. It was the first time he had made you laugh, he realized.

"Psshh, not even." You lied through your teeth, trying and failing to suppress your smile.

"Even." He countered, playfulness in his tone. The both of you held each others' eyes for a moment, mutual grins exchanged.

"Anyway, I'm sure she'll be back soon enough." He continued calmly.

"Oh, so you're gonna try and win her back?" You asked.

"Hm? Nah, we've always been on and off, she'll come back eventually."

You frowned, "And you're okay with that?"

You weren't typically one to judge others' love lives given how you currently didn't have one, but you couldn't help but marvel at Jungkook's words. He shrugged in response.

You shifted uncomfortably, "Have you considered moving on? Or at least doing something to get her actually to stay with you?"

"Like what?" Jungkook laughed, clearly not taking you seriously.

Great question. You weren't particularly skilled with knowledge when it came to romantic relationships; you had only ever had one boyfriend, and while it was fairly serious, things had ended amicably enough.

You thought back to your sisters at that moment. The twins were older than you and had both gone through a significant number of breakups. When the three of you were growing up, they usually relied on one another when it came to boy troubles, but that didn't mean you didn't get an earful late at night. Your bedroom shared a wall with theirs and, well, Rosa and Lia had always been loud people after all.

"Give her a reason to regret letting you go... become a better man and whatnot." You responded after some contemplation. "Show her what she's missing."

"Oh, she knows exactly what she's missing." Jungkook smirked, eyes flickering towards the front of his jeans. "Why do you think she keeps coming back?"

You blinked.

"I think I just threw up in my mouth."

"Dick this good doesn't come around that often." He continued seriously, wagging his pointer finger from side to side.

"Incredible. I just did it again." You deadpanned, causing Jungkook to snort.

"Seriously? I'm what's grossing you out in this scenario?" He mused, looking down at the frog you were previously dissecting. You let out a hum, nodding.

"As much as I appreciate the 411 on your dick, I've got a layer of fascia to cut through."

"Fine. Why don't you try and make conversation then, since your baggin' on everything I bring up?"

"I don't have anything to talk about." You shrugged, moving over to the frog, beginning to cut.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, "Really? Nothing exciting happening in your life?"

"Yes, actually. I just located Bernie's trachea." You revealed. Jungkook walked over to your end of the table, eyes wide with disbelief as he leaned in for a closer look.

Your eyes widened as his shoulder brushed itself against yours, his sudden proximity unexpected.

He smelled like cologne, clearly wearing enough to make itself known past the stench of formaldehyde and you found yourself taking a step back, slightly flustered.

Sure, Jungkook was just a dumb frat boy, but he was an attractive one and it was just a little bit daunting.

You watched his profile as he marveled at the revealed insides of the frog, even reaching for a pair of forceps to pull back the flap of skin to get a better look.

"Actually, there is something I'm excited about."

"If it's his heart, I'm already one step ahead of you." He quipped back, not looking up from the frog. You shook your head.

"I want to throw an event on campus."

Jungkook's eyes flickering towards you was your cue to continue talking.

"It's to encourage more women to pursue careers in science and engineering. I've planned the whole thing and even made flyers."

"Well… it's no frog heart but that's certainly something." Jungkook smiled, causing your heart to pound.

You nodded, suddenly growing excited.

"All I need a sponsor. I can't afford to throw it myself– not to mention the fact that I'm not even sure people would even show up. I just think there are so many opportunities in STEM fields that more girls would thrive in if they were just encouraged enough." You continued, eyebrows furrowing as you began to think.

"Do you know that just a few years ago we made the first-ever artificial heart. A heart, Jungkook; a man got to live an additional one hundred and twelve days even though his original heart was nearly ripped to shreds. And just a few months ago, a child was born through gestational surrogacy. The woman who birthed her was literally just a human surrogate, she didn't pass down any DNA to the child. None! I mean, babies can be born from Petri dishes! We are literally changing the boundaries of fertility and sterility as we know it!"

Jungkook was grinning as he watched you speak. He couldn't help it. Here you were, decked out in your lab coat and goggles, scalpel in hand as you rambled on about science. It was kind of endearing, he noted... in a dorky way, at least.

"So, uh, yeah. Sorry, I just…" You came back down to earth eventually, noting the way he was staring at you with amusement. You hadn't meant to get so caught up in your thoughts. "I realize that probably isn't as exciting to everyone as it is to me. That was my attempt at making conversation."

Jungkook had a dumb look on his face, and you weren't surprised at all with his reply.

"You know... I bet there's someone out there that finds all your science talk really hot."

You let out a deep sigh, shoulders slumping down in defeat.

"Not everything is about sex, you know."

"No, but everything interesting is." He grinned lopsidedly.

Jungkook had this unusually natural composure about him. As if he could shrug off any inconvenience with one stupid smile.

How frustrating. It made it increasingly difficult for you to stay mad at him for very long.

"Come on, meathead. Let's get this over with." You rolled your eyes, nudging your shoulder into his muscular one.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Y/N!" Jungkook's voice called out, halting you mid-stride.

You let out a sigh, forcing a smile onto your face as you turned around, watching as an expectant looking Jungkook jogged over to you, his hair bouncing with every step.

"Hey," He breathed out as he reached you, "you left so fast I didn't get a chance to say goodbye."

Yeah, and you thought you had gotten away with it too.

Jungkook wasn't a bad kid; he was funny and didn't take things too seriously– even if those qualities about him were slightly frustrating. No, Jungkook was alright you supposed, but that didn't mean the two of you were suddenly best friends. You didn't care much for formalities, especially when all you wanted to do was go back to your dorm, shower, and take a nap.

"Oh, right. Sorry." You recognized, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder.

Jungkook merely smiled at you, and you wondered if he was gonna say anything else. Realizing that he wasn't, you pressed your lips together awkwardly.

"Well... bye." You nodded stiffly, already moving to turn and make your exit. A warm hand wrapping around your wrist stopped you from getting any further, however.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

You stared down at where Jungkook's fingers touched your skin, your eyes wide in surprise. He must have noticed the way your body tensed because he let go of you as quickly as he grabbed you.

"I've, uh, actually got something I want to talk to you about." He grinned sheepishly, the same hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

You cleared your throat, pushing down the way your stomach was doing nervous flips, unfortunately, affected by the unexpected skinship. You tilted your chin up silently, urging Jungkook to continue.

"This is gonna sound sudden... and I know you don't really know me..." Jungkook began, causing your stomach to drop in horror.

Oh, God. Was... Was Jeon Jungkook going to ask you out?

"Spit it out, Jeon." You ordered, voice spiked high as your nerves began to rack.

"Would you mind dating me to make my girlfriend jealous?"

You blinked dryly, taking a moment to replay in your head just exactly what Jungkook had asked of you.

Okay... so not quite the love confession you were anticipating...

"Would I mind– What?" You gaped in disbelief.

"It wouldn't be for, like, too long. Probably just for a party or two." Jungkook shrugged as if anything he was saying was making any sense.

You shook your head, "Wait– Seriously, time out. What on earth are you asking me right now?"

Jungkook slipped both his hands into his jacket, which you had only just now taken a moment to admire. It was a brown leather bomber jacket with a few military patches sewn into the sleeves that you assumed must have come with the jacket as Jungkook didn't seem like the crafty type. Most of all, it looked warm and it reminded you that every second you stood here talking to Jungkook was a second you could be spending warm in your dorm under your covers.

"I was thinking about what you said. About showing my ex what she's missing." He explained.

"And you thought that was me auctioning myself off to be your fake girlfriend?" You laughed.

"Look, I know her, okay? If she were to think that you and I were a thing, she'd want to get back together."

You let out a sigh. This relationship of Jungkook's was revealing itself to be suckier and suckier as time went on.

"Why me?" You pressed. "I don't even know who your girlfriend is and I doubt she knows me. Is she in a sorority by chance?"

"Well, yeah–"

"Great! Get with one of her sorority sisters then. Give her a taste of her own medicine." You actually weren't usually one to promote revenge but, hell, if it meant it would get Jungkook off your ass then you were all for it.

"No can do. It's gotta be someone new and that Kiri doesn't know otherwise she won't care." Jungkook tutted.

"I'm not following." You admitted, truly not understanding why Jungkook was asking you of all people. You had only spent two hours with the guy. What about you in a lab coat and reeking of formaldehyde had told him that you were fake girlfriend material?

Jungkook suddenly took a look around and you followed suit, growing even more confused when Jungkook stepped closer and dropped his voice low.

"Kiri... she's president of her sorority; pretty, social, popular, you feel me? If I get someone like her then it just looks like I'm trying to replace her. But if I get–"

"If you say 'someone like you' as in implying I am neither of those things, I'll sock you in the nose." You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"–someone smart and independent, things that she's not, then she'll think I'm trying to forget her, which is what will get her attention. She'll be pissed, it's perfect." The dark-haired boy concluded, looking smug as if he had said something profound.

"Wow, you really are prince charming." You mused dryly. "Well, sorry to burst your bubble but I have no interest in being used as a pawn in your love game so..."

"You wouldn't be a pawn." Jungkook shook his head. "You'd be rewarded for your services–"

"Isn't that prostitution?" You cut off cheekily, causing Jungkook to roll his eyes.

"–I can help you fund your event." He continued.

At his words, you froze. Your head cocked to the side cautiously as you stared back at him, trying to decipher his sincerity.

"You can?"

Finally. This was the first time Jungkook could tell he had actually piqued your interest enough to really listen to him.

"Beta Tau Sigma. Our frat gets a monetary grant every semester in exchange for helping out in the community and helping fund an event for education sure would make us look damn good. While I'm not on the finance committee, one of my closest brothers is and I can totally pitch hosting your event to him."

"Holy shit..." You breathed out quietly, his words clearly making an impression on you.

If Beta Tau Sigma were to sponsor your event, not only could you afford to throw it but there was a real chance that people would actually come. Greek life was everything to your university and there weren't many significant school events that a frat or sorority wasn't behind.

Hold on. Why were you seriously considering this right now?

"But, I mean, you don't want to get involved in my love life, right? It's cool. See you next class, Y/N."

Jungkook shrugged coolly, spinning on his heel as he began to walk away, dismissing you with a simple gesture of a hand.

Your mind was racing. You had poured so much time into planning this event... Could the solution to finally getting it standing on its own two feet be found in some cocky frat boy? Was your pride that dismissable that you'd pretend to date him just to get what you wanted?

"Jungkook!" Was your inner conflict's final decision.

The boy paused his motions, his knowing smirk hidden as he had his back towards you.

"Hm?" He feigned innocence as he turned to face you.

"If you can seriously get your frat to sponsor my event, then..."

You took a step towards him, words trailing off.

Jungkook took a moment to look you up and down. You were dressed in jeans and a black knit sweater, the outline of a small kitten embroidered on it with white thread. It was an amusing juxtaposition given the nature of your personality.

Your hands were clenched into small fists, a shining, determined gleam in your ardent eyes.

"Then?" He mused smugly.

"Then I'll be the most bitchin' fake girlfriend you've ever had." You declared, a wide grin crawling along the length of your mouth.

Jungkook said nothing at first, just staring at you in silent reverence. He knew he hardly knew you but something about the resolve in your tone had him believing every word.

He extended a hand out towards you, catching you by surprise.

"So, do we have a deal? Partners?" There was mischievous timber to his words, the kind that made you feel as if this would all later come back to bite you in the ass.

Pushing that pestering thought away, you took his hand into yours, holding his eyes as you gave it a firm shake.

"Partners."

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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Downfall of a Dark Avenger Part 2: Shadows of Manhattan

Having finished reading Al Ewing’s El Sombra trilogy and having had enough time to digest it, I’d like to talk about the trajectory of it’s titular protagonist, the character and series’s relationship with it’s influences. Relating to The Shadow and Zorro and general pulp archetypes, and also the way it incorporates Astro Boy’s Pluto into the mix.

This part is focused on Gods of Manhattan and El Sombra’s first appearences in Pax Omega and the ways in which the urban vigilante manifests itself in the books.

In Gods of Manhattan, El Sombra takes a backseat to it’s central players, Doc Thunder and The Blood-Spider. I’ve mentioned how Thunder, while ostensibly a Doc Savage/Superman amalgam, also combines aspects that allow the character to condense the entire history of the superman into a single being, but to a character very much centered on the future and in progressive ideals, described in the book as someone considered both the city’s ultimate savior as well as viewed as "a faggot, a liberal and a miscegenationist”. In that regard, the Blood-Spider becomes his opposite. Perhaps the most comprehensive savaging of the dark detective/The Shadow ever put on paper, that has a larger point behind the questions and criticisms it brings up to what this kind of figure can be.

"You can hardly have a war on crime unless you are the one defining what a crime is. First rule of the war on crime: everyone is guilty or something"

Us am vigilantes! Am us not men? Us use violence to effect social change! Am us not men? Us bring terror to underclass, make streets safer for overclass! Am us not men? Am us not men?

Making them loved rather than feared. Having them fight crime, or the right kind of crime, at least. Created a persona designed to appeal to the worst in people, to bring the citizens of New York around to his cause, his war on crime, which would, of course, then become a war against ‘urban crime’. Or some other little euphemism. ‘Inhuman’, for example. Sounds a lot more relatable than subhuman, doesn’t it? Comes to the same thing, though.

Although The Blood-Spider is an evil take on The Shadow, most of his character traits are taken from characters that followed him. He’s got the moniker, savagery, fright tactics and branded murders of The Spider, he climbs buildings and has a civilian identity akin to Spider-Man’s, with constant name references to characters like Stacey, Jonah and a redhead named Mary Watson, with him sharing a name with Peter Parker as well as Batman villain Jonathan Crane, he’s got Rorschach monologues that are echoed by his associates past his demise in white supremacist organizations dedicated to carrying off Spider’s legacy, predating HBO Watchmen’s take on Rorschach legacy. If Doc Thunder is all about taking the superhero’s past to create a better future with it, Blood-Spider takes the future of the urban vigilante and uses it as a conduit to enact a barbaric and reactionary agenda in service of undoing everything Thunder stands for, even before he’s revealed to be a Nazi agent.

Blood-Spider is what happens when the absolute worst aspects of said characters are brought to the forefront and twisted by a dose of reality. He’s to The Shadow what Plutonian is to Superman, the most sour way said character and legend can be twisted into something horrendous. He’s the Doutrinador in a fedora, everything I vehemently argue that The Shadow wasn’t, and yet seems sadly ever closer to as more and more comics dehumanize the character. He’s Howard Chaykin’s Shadow, naked and raw and exposed for what it ultimately is. An insult and a wake-up call, if a necessary one.

In fact, said poisoning of a legend is explicitly a plot point in the book, because the book establishes that, before The Blood-Spider, the city’s main vigilante used to be a man by the name of Blue Ghost, friend of Doc Thunder and, although a mysterious public figure, still firmly on the side of good. Unfortunately, moral victories aside, “good” alone doesn’t cut it in the world of El Sombra.

You took a look at the Blue Ghost - mysterious masked avenger, operatives all over the place, big fan-following with the working classes, and you figured...we need one of those. Just take away the Japanese orphan kid and replace him with a foxy Aryan chick.

Blue Ghost is almost a textbook Spirit analogue, even defined as being beat up a lot as his main asset, except here, he’s placed as Doc’s counterpart that died before the story began and is now replaced by a darker and more horrendous counterpart, and because The Spirit was influenced by The Shadow, it opens a roundabout connection. You can read this as a comparison between the shift from Adam West’s Batman to Frank Miller’s Batman, or a comparison between The Shadow and earlier more straightforward pulp vigilantes like Jimmie Dale, or a comparison between the pulp/radio Shadow and later iterations of him or analogues to his archetype that upped the nastier aspects. Again, nothing in El Sombra is ever quite just one thing.

And at last we come to El Sombra, who spends much of the book caught in between the duels of Doc, Untergang and players in between. And it’s interesting that here, while El Sombra’s final victories over the story’s major conflict lie in his willingness to team up with Doc, despite knowing of his origins as a Nazi weapon, his victories over Blood-Spider instead come from turning tricks of The Shadow against him. First, when he discovers Spider’s true nature, spying on him by pulling a Fritz the Janitor. And then in the finale, when he schools Spider on what a real shadowy avenger looks like.

"Amigo...that's my sword"

The voice came from the darkness above them, where the gaslight did not reach. The Spider's blood ran cold for a long moment, and then he grabbed hold of his other gun, tearing it from its holster and raising it to fire a volley of bullets into the darkness. "Where are you? Show yourself!" he hissed, turning in place, the gun raised to fire at the slightest sound or movement.

"You're not the only one who can hide in the shadows, my friend. I've got very good at it, over the years."

"Show yourself!" Another volley of shots, with no result. Was he throwing his voice? Was he everywhere at once? Was he a shadow himself? A ghost?

The voice echoed from another place now, continuing his speech exactly where he had left off. And still that mocking voice echoed from the shadows above.

"See, I didn't know if you were a good guy or a bad guy. I mean, sure, you killed people, and you were kind of a dick about it, you know? But I didn't know if you were one of the bastards. I didn't know if you needed to die or not, amigo."

The gun clicked empty. He was out of bullets. He turned again, and there was the man in the red mask. Just standing there, in the middle of the concourse. His smile didn't look human. And his eyes. Oh, his terrible eyes...

"Stay back." The Spider whispered, and his voice sounded in his ears like a frightened, animal thing, waiting to curl up and die in its hole.

The man in the red mask only laughed. A rich, deep, joyous laugh, a laugh that echoed and filled the whole station, bouncing from pillar to pillar, careening through the great vaulted arches. Such a laugh!

Then the laughter stopped, and he fixed the Blood-Spider with a look that would freeze the fires of Hell.

And suddenly - quite suddenly - there was no Blood-Spider. There was only Parker Crane, the Nazi. Parker Crane, the traitor. Who thought he could destroy America, and only managed to destroy himself. Parker Crane. Just a man wearing a mask. He ran, and left the sword behind him.

"Nice trick," Doc murmured, turning to the masked man. "Throwing your sword from up on the balcony - good aim, by the way - then throwing your voice and a little mental suggestion to make him think you were up in the arches where he'd been. Where did you learn that?"

The masked man shrugged, lifting up his weapon. "In the desert. You can learn a lot in the desert, if you put your mind to it."

By the story’s end, once Lars Lomax, Thunder’s arch-enemy and Lex Luthor, takes center stage as it’s ultimate threat, Parker Crane is left a traumatized, broken shell unable to even move, utterly stripped of any mystique or power that his mask and guns may have brought him. And in the end, El Sombra finds him, neutralized and no longer a threat to anyone. And he makes his choice.

El Sombra knew what it was to hate, to hate so hard and so long that you knew nothing else, to hate so strongly that it crossed that line into something beyond reason.

He lifted his sword, resting the blade in his palm for a moment, considering. Crane only stared, weeping and making his soft, mad noises. El Sombra sighed, shaking his head. "You know, I don't know if I can kill a guy who's already dead. Even if he is one of the bastards."

"Don't let him in here." Murmured Crane, his eyes wide.

"Shhh, I won't let him in," smiled El Sombra in response, trying to be reassuring. "You'll never have to face him again. I promise. It's okay, amigo. It's okay."

It was strange. He knew he should feel hate for Parker Crane. It was Djego's job to bear things like pity and doubt, to feel sorrow and shame. That was Djego's role in their team of one. El Sombra was there to take never-ending revenge and to laugh and to never look back. But to know that his murder of Heinrich Donner - his righteous kill - had resulted in so much harm coming to so many... and now to see the leader of Undergang, the man he'd come to New York to kill, just an empty, broken madman, a shell of a person... El Sombra wondered if he was changing.

"Don't," whispered Crane, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Don't let him back in."

El Sombra smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, amigo. I'm going to go and make sure nobody ever needs to see him again. And I couldn't have done it without you." He squeezed lightly. "You didn't mean to, but you did some good. Remember that."

Then, gently, he pushed the tip of the sword through the front of Crane's skull and into his brain.

He was not incapable of pity. But he was who he was, and he did what he did.

And broken or not, the bastards had to die.

We’ve seen El Sombra struggle and be faced with choices, choices between Djego and El Sombra, choices between kindness and violence, between peace and conflict. We’ve seen the conflict in his soul between things that he knows are right, because Djego is a good man with a good soul who wants good things for himself and others, and things he knows he must do, because he is El Sombra and El Sombra was created to kill the bastards that brought his world to ruin and therefore it’s what he must always do. And in the end, El Sombra is simply stronger. He has to be. But strength and violence and hatred can only get one so far.

Gods of Manhattan is the trilogy’s moral compass, the book that most clearly defines the morality the series operates on. And in between the spectrums of justice embodied by Doc and Crane’s approach, between the two urban avengers in The Blue Ghost and Blood-Spider, El Sombra made his choice. And it’s the first choice that dooms him.

Enter Pax Omega, and we learn that, 4 years since the previous book's events, El Sombra joined a squad of agents called Yankee Bravo Seven, who work for an organization named STEAM, who enact missions against Nazis to turn the tides of war. He is joined by several other types of characters, including The Blood Widow, Crane’s former assistant Marlene Lang now having taken up the moniker (just as Nita van Sloan did for The Spider, even with the “Widow” prefix). We see that El Sombra has joined a team of bantering heroes and even formed a friendly rivalry with a man named Savate, modeled after Batroc the Leaper.

But we see that the hunger for vengeance still burns, still burns beyond reason, restless because it’s been 4 years and the war still isn’t over and Hitler still isn’t dead by his sword. And it’s that restlessness that again dooms him, when he once again makes the wrong choice and betrays leader Jack Scorpio, Scorpio who had personally brought him on board and gave him the best shot he ever had at getting to Hitler.

El Sombra frowned. "We need to make our move now."

Scorpio shook his head. "Not yet."

"What?" El Sombra looked incredulous.

"Wait for my signal, I said! Damn it, I need you to trust me!" Jack Scorpio reached up to brush the back of his finger across his forehead, and realised he was sweating.

Through his special glasses, El Sombra's aura was glowing an angry, pulsing red, like a throbbing vein. "Just...trust me. I'm asking you to hold back for just five minutes. There's more going on here than you know."

El Sombra just stared at him, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a cold snarl.

"Trust me. That's all I ask." Jack Scorpio looked into the blazing eyes behind the bloodstained mask, and spoke softly, soothingly, almost desperately. "Can you just hold back for one minute?"

The eyes behind the mask narrowed.

"Can you?"

PERSONNEL FILE: DJEGO "EL SOMBRA". TO EYES ONLY: THIS INDIVIDUAL IS HIGHLY DANGEROUS. IT IS STRONGLY RECOMMENDED HE NOT BE INCLUDED IN ANY OPERATIONS CLASSIFIED ABOVE TOP SECRET OR HIGHER. (I'll take the risk - J.S)

El Sombra spat in Scorpio's face.

"Chinga tu madre."

Then he drew his sword and leaped down into the fray.

After the mission is over, with the base destroyed and a major victory secured, although with Jack Scorpio having been killed, the team disbands. El Sombra continues to wander the forests near the Luftwaffe base for about two weeks, killing as many Nazis as he can, until an explosion blast hits near him, knocking away his mask and portions of his leg and arm, and rendering him unconscious for 8 months. By the time he wakes up, the war has ended, and so has El Sombra for the past 7 years.

Djego was afforded the best of medical care at the hospital in Venice. El Sombra was nowhere to be found.

His mask had been torn off in the explosion, along with some of the meat of his leg and arm. He walked stiffly, now, with a pronounced limp, and his left arm was all but useless, hanging limply at his side. The Wildcat crew had salvaged his sword, but Djego had little interest in using it.

Gradually, he regained his mobility. The back of his head itched constantly, and he suffered from horrendous mood swings, when he would rage against the Fuhrer and the bastards, or weep helplessly, like a child. But gradually, he found his personality stabilising in the gentle, antiseptic atmosphere of the hospital. He found that Djego - so long despised as a weakling, a coward and a fool - was capable of a kind of gentle, melancholic wit that made him popular.

Djego healed and grew, and the itch in the back of his skull began to subside, as El Sombra relinquished his grip.

Djego felt his heart seize in his chest. The cloth was missing a scrap at the end, and there was mud ground into the fabric along with the old bloodstains; but it had two evenly-spaced holes in it, and was unmistakably a mask. It seemed to be looking at him.

He takes up gardening and establishes himself in the city of Brandenberg, he becomes a fixture of the city and a friend of it, he enters a relationship, and El Sombra never appears again.

Until a mysterious stranger named Leonard Lorraine, walks through his door one day, saying he’s got a mission to fulfill, and hands him his mask. And, once again, El Sombra is simply stronger, and he makes the wrong choice again.

Djego shook his head and tried to step back from it, but his legs wouldn't move.

"No," he whispered. "No. Please"

"I was happy," pleaded Djego. "Doesn't that matter to you?" He picked up the cloth in trembling fingers, looking into the empty eyeholds. "Doesn't that mean anything?"

There was no answer. The patrons of the bierkeller did not even notice anything was happening.

"I was happy," Djego choked, and then, in one spasmodic motion, he pulled the mask onto his face, and secured it tightly, so that the knot once again rested in the back of his head, where it belonged: so tightly that it might never come off again.

El Sombra looked at his hands.

He prodded his belly, amused at the rounded shape of it, and took a couple of steps back from the bar. The limp was gone.

He laughed, very softly, so as not to disturb the patrons.

Djego and Lorraine walk through the desolate streets of Berlin, which in the years since has completely sealed itself from the outside world through an impossibly thick dome, and Djego discovers the city completely bereft of life, with only a few lobotomized robotic citizens aimlessly wandering and chewing on the mountains of corpses in the city, as their Nazi ideology reached it’s inevitable outcome of total annihilation of any and all that the party could find an excuse to slaughter in the name of purity, which eventually included it’s few remaining members. In this world, Hitler has been a brain inside a robotic contraption ever since 1945, and it’s amidst this scenario that El Sombra, while thinking about how his final confrontation with Hitler would play out, eventually finds what’s left of Hitler.

All around them, there were the sounds of machinery, but the Mecha-Fuhrer was completely silent, utterly motionless. In the centre of its chest rested a tank of toxic green fluid, and on the surface of the fluid, a human brain floated, like the corpse of a goldfish.

It was quite dead.

El Sombra stared at the Fuhrer for a long moment. Eventually, he spoke, and his voice was cracked and raw, and choked with rage. "Is...is this a joke?"

De Lareine smiled his terrible smile. "The Fuhrer's body needed a great deal of maintenance and repair, you know. After two years, one of the processes delivering oxygen to his brain failed...and there was nobody left to repair it. He died, slowly." There would have been some pain, at the end".

El Sombra slammed his fist into the great iron throne on which the massive body sat, shattering his knuckles and tearing the skin from them. He didn't seem to notice. "Some pain," he choked, through gritted teeth."

El Sombra was still staring into the empty, dead eyes of the Fuhrer.

El Sombra again chooses poorly. It’s this moment, above all else, that truly damns him to his fate, as we come to see what is it exactly that a persona created for the purpose of vengeance has, when said vengeance is robbed from it. Like Parker Crane, his persona crumbles completely to expose the petty, ugly little feelings that drove it to such grandstanding antics in the first place, and the allmighty El Sombra is exposed for the all-too human failings that damned him once and for all.

"This isn't right," he said, eventually, in a strangled voice. "How...how can it end like this?"

"Why shouldn't it?" De Lareine shrugged. "Here's a thought. Maybe, despite his twenty-year tantrum and all his dressing up, spoilt little Djego is not the centre of the universe -"

El Sombra turned, face red, tears streaming from his eyes, and charged at De Lareine, slashing his sword. El Sombra crashed down onto the floor, into the soot scattered about, as De Lareine walked around him.

"Did you really believe Adolf Hitler would wait around for your sword? Did you not imagine that it might be better for him to seal himself off in a hole to die, instead of murdering and enslaving continents until you finally got around to him? Did you think you were the hero of your own little story, El Sombra, with your mask and your laugh and your-"

"Shut up!" El Sombra cried out, scrambling to his feet, the sword shaking in his hand, tears and snot running down his face. "He was mine! He was mine to kill!" He lifted the sword, the tip trembling. "Bring him back," he screamed, "do you hear me? Bring him back to life!"

De Lareine had to laugh at that.

And in the end, El Sombra is crushed, spiritually and physically as his spine is shattered by Lareine, who begins to experiment on him as he lays dying, ready to fulfill fate’s greater purpose for El Sombra. Ready to become not just the perfect machine Pasito’s conquerors intended, but a superior design. Ready to abandon his former life, ready to abandon everything that defined him, ready to shed any and all traces of Zorro and Shadow and pulp hero in his system, because the age of pulp heroes and superheroes has passed.

The metal man emerged from his hole, dragging the corpse of the Fuhrer behind him.

The brain in the metal man's chest would, perhaps, live for thousands of years. He wondered how he would spend the time.

He remembered little of his former life; he had been a man named El Sombra, or perhaps Djego. He had been stupid - he realised that now - but that was something he would never be again.

Apart from that, there was only a succession of faces, the memory of laughter and of a final, awful betrayal that had destroyed him. But there was also the sense that a great and terrible mission had ended at last, and it was time for a new life to begin.

The metal man took a last look back at the great dome of Fortress Berlin. Somewhere in there, the Leopard Man was hunting, freed from his own mission. And in the Fuhrer's old office, the empty, lifeless clay of El Sombra - or was it Djego? - lay, discarded, like a butterfly's cocoon.

The metal man thought on this, as the Fuhrer rusted at his feet and the tanks began to approach from over the hills ahead.

He would need a new name.

It’s now the age of Pluto.

#replies tag #pulp heroes #al ewing #el sombra #pluto

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grayyxv · 4 years

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A Comprehensive Analysis of Eustass 'Captain' Kid

I've been wanting to write this for awhile now as Kid is undoubtedly one of my favourite characters in One Piece. Also, I'm majoring in Psychology so I can't help but think about why I love his character so much.

Disclaimer: As we all know, Kid doesn't have much screentime so it's quite difficult to understand his character completely. So, whatever you read will be my own intepretation of his character (based on the little amount of scenes that he has). Of course, you don't have to agree with it but it might give you a bit of a different perspective!

So, withour further ado, let's begin!

*P.s I'll try to make it flow in but it might end up really messy so I apologize for that*

Note: NOT SPOILER FREE!!!

1. Assumptions

I guess I'll begin with some of the common assumptions of his character based on posts/videos I've seen about his character. They frequently refer to Kid as 'cruel' or 'heartless'. Basically, there are many negative remarks about his character that makes him seem like a total psychopath.

Their reasoning for this would be because:

- He mentioned that he would kill anyone would mocked him

- His high bounty = He's notorious & violent

- The way he acts makes him come off as a bloodthirsty pirate

From another standpoint, I can see why people might think that way about him. The way he speaks and acts does make him look villainous. In addition, his primary role in One Piece is to be Luffy's rival. (I'll expand on this point later.) So, one might think that his morals would contrast Luffy. Whereas Luffy is the kind and benevolent pirate, Kid is the 'bad guy' who is cruel and heartless. The question is, though Kid is rival character, why does that necessarily mean that he would be a bad guy? I strongly disagree that Kid is a psychopath and that he is heartless. Firstly, the term 'psychopath' shouldn't be used so loosely. A true psychopath would have no regard for other's feelings which is not true of Kid because he cares very much for his crew. On the other hand, Doflamingo would be a good example of a psychopath. Next, even if Kid WERE a psychopath, not all psychopaths are violent. So it'd be nice if people stopped misrepresenting psychopaths.

Now, if there is one thing I learned in psychology, is that people tend to make assumptions about a person's actions as part of their personal dispositions rather than because of situation. This would be the Fundamental Attribution Error (FAE). What do I mean by this? Let's take a look at Kid's scenario. He mentioned killing people who mocked his dream. Killing people would make people automatically assume that Kid is 'violent'. But here is a different perspective, what if 'mocking him' had meant that they tried to start a fight with him? Provoking other people repeatedly would cause anybody to get angry. There are many other characters who acts this way as well. Sure, Luffy doesn't go as far as to kill them but I'm sure that many other characters do because they are PIRATES.

In contrast, I think of this situation as Kid standing up for himself. He believes in himself and he would beat anyone up who tells him otherwise. If you think about it, Luffy is kind of similar because he ends up fighting anyone who tries to stop him from attaining his goal.

That is pretty much all the assumptions that people make about his character. It's sad how they don't delve deeper but fret not!! I still have more to say.

2. Pre-Timeskip vs Timeskip Changes/Growth as a character

During Pre-timeskip, Kid is seen as overconfident. I actually agree with this statement quite a lot. His high bounty was a result of his reckless behaviour. He could easily triumph over anyone before the timeskip. That was when he started to become a little too full of himself. Consequently, he suffered heavy losses. His arm was taken by Shanks, his crew was utterly defeated by Kaido (curse you Apoo) and his reputation as the top supernova was instantly lost to Luffy. His true character development was in the Wano arc where we see how he starts to take a step back and re-evaluate his situation. The most obvious evidence for this was when he got captured in Udon. He was quiet (before Luffy's arrival) and deep in thought. So many things had happened to him, you could even argue that he was feeling slightly lost and helpless (not depressed) because he was utterly defeated. The motivation and drive he had in pre-timeskip was shattered- Until Luffy arrived of course. When Luffy arrived, he was battered and bruised but he was still ready to fight. Kid, who saw how Luffy still had his fighting spirit, was somehow inspired to keep on fighting. It's almost as if Luffy is Kid's drive to be stronger.

So, what does this all say about Kid?

I think that this makes his character believable as it can represent real life. There are some points in our lives where we could be the greatest but, sometimes, life can be pretty cruel too. If you get too cocky or overconfident, the world will punish you. I saw a comment that says Kid is Luffy but without the plot armour. That is very true. Kid isn't perfect. He made tons of crappy decisions and dealt which the consequences. I'd say he's as reckless as Luffy, perhaps LESS reckless than Luffy but he suffers more than Luffy does. While Luffy could bask in glory, all Kid got was the short end of the stick. I think that is the reason why I find Kid such an appealing character- because its an accurate representation of real life. Sometimes you can try as hard as someone else but you won't always get the spolight.

The other appealing aspect is his persistence. He made mistakes and bad decisions but he knows that he can't undo them and has to move on. Kid isn't as lucky as Luffy because he didn't have someone like Rayleigh to train him so, he had to put in more effort somehow. The main point is, he had to learn everything the hard way. Yet, he still strives to be the best which is very befitting of a rival character.

3. interactions & Personality

Another thing I frequently see when people Kid and Luffy is that: People say that while Kid makes enemies, Luffy makes allies which is why he has so much support from others around him. I was thinking about this a lot and I can't help but disgaree. I saw another post where they mentioned Kid's MBTI personality is INFJ which made me think even more about that statement. From here on, I will include several headcanons about his character as well.

Let me offer you a different perspective. Perhaps Kid isn't good at expressing his feelings. The way he speaks may come off as cold which makes other people dislike him because they think he is rude whereas he simply doesn't know how to communicate with others very well. Luffy is no doubt an extrovert, seeing how he is easily able to interact with others. Kid on the other hand, if he is an introvert, it could be an explaination to why he doesn't have many interactions with others. I don't see him as someone who's very 'sociable'. So he could experience some difficulty when communicating his feelings. He's shown to be closer to his crew more than anyone else. He is deeply respected by his crewmates because he is sensitive to their needs as well. He isn't the tyrant that everyone paints him to be, he earned that respect by first respecting his crewmates. Also, he would essentially DIE for any of his crewmates. This part is quite self explainatory if you've read the chapter where they revealed what happened to Kid and Killer in Wano.

I just want to add that while Killer suffered so much in Wano, imagine how much it hurt Kid to see his first mate suffer and how he couldn't do anything about it. The expression on his face is perfectly the anger he had towards Kaido, Apoo and more importantly, HIMSELF for not being strong enough. Yet, people call him heartless though he would literally die for Killer.

But anyways, Kid is an excellent listener and he cares very deeply for people he is close to. I just think he's bad at communicating. Look at the way he talks to Luffy. In Wano, you can see how Kid actually does LIKE Luffy as a rival. He just has trouble expressing himself. Anyways, this is just a headcanon but I think that he's rather sensitive to other's feelings- Especially when it comes to his crew. I really like the idea that he's an INFJ because he seems more like the 'advocate' type of character. I still think he makes a very good leader but his approach would contrast Luffy's.

4. Intelligence

I could probaly go on forever about why I love Kid but this is another thing that I see about Kid and kind of annoys me. I'm not sure why everyone seems to think he's a dumbass. Like REALLY. I think he's pretty intelligent. He even kept tabs on the whole SMILE situation and Doflamingo and planned the alliance. He IS intelligent but his recklessness just makes him seem like an idiot.

Kid isn't perfect, he is flawed just like a real human being would be. By no means is he a GOOD person but I don't think he is as 'cruel' or 'bad' as people paint him to be. He cares a lot for his crew. He is very driven by his own personal values and he wouldn't 'change' for anyone. He believes in himself and if anyone tells him otherwise, he would simply beat them up. He isn't happy go lucky like Luffy, he is much deeper than that. He would consider his options and plan- to a certain extent because he is also quite idealistic. Hence, the reason why I feel like his character is such an interesting one is because there is a lot of opportunity for him to grow and stray away from stereotypical anime character traits. His character is believable because his personality is realistic, it could reflect a real human being.

TLDR: Stop sleeping on Kid.

With that, thanks for coming to my ted talk.

Anyways, that's it for now! I'll make a part 2 if I feel like I want to add something. If people like this, I'll consider making another analysis for other characters. Currently I have Law, Ace and Sabo planned in mind but we'll see how it goes.

Thanks for reading!

#one piece #eustass kid #eustass kidd #kidlaw #killerkid #kid pirates #eustass captain kid

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themilky-way · 4 years

Text

as the hours pass {loki odinson}

gif credit: littlemisssyreid

pairing: loki odinson x fem!reader (might be considered gender neutral, though)

summary: he afraid of what he feels, so he does the only the thing he knows how to do: lie. based on this ask.

warnings: super shitty angst lol cuz it was 9 pm and my brain cells were FRIED. i think that’s it?? fluff at the end tho so we good

author’s note: this took me a whole mf week to write which isn’t that bad but i have no time now and it’s kinda scary. yolo tho lol

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when tony had initially proposed a weekly movie night for the entire team, not a single person would’ve imagined anything like this. a large projector had taken the place of the regular flatscreen television, consequently lining up in all the four corners of the penthouse windows. couches and reclining chairs compiled in a large circle instead of being adequately spread out amongst the common room, and they’d all been filled by at least one avenger. to those wishing to participate, jobs and duties had been assigned the week prior, the list ranging from making popcorn to dimming the lights. it was organized-sophisticated, in a way-how it had all been brought about, and to say the majority of the residents living in tony’s multi billionaire penthouse were surprised was quite the understatement.

over the course of a few weeks, everything began falling into place. reminders didn’t need to be set anymore, and the designated tasks weren’t viewed as chores. natasha made sure to pop three full bags of delicious kernels- ensuring thor’s bowl had just enough butter to lick his fingers clean when he finished-while steve arranged a variety of pillows and blankets around the seating space. soon enough, fading shades of purple would ignite the obscurity of the living room-all due to the led lights binded to the borders of its ceiling-and either a horror or comedy film would commence.

in such a manner, your spot could always be found on the same peculiar couch, next to the same peculiar individual. god, at that. to literally go to hell and back, to get placed in a home that wasn’t his home with people who wanted his head wasn’t particularly an easy life to lead. he wasn’t a man of sentiment, either, nor one who engaged in communal activities, so you took your part as a good samaritan and kept him company. the seat next to loki had been unreserved, with not even thor to take its place, and you shuffled away from a very frightened wanda to settle beside him. he'd been neutral, annoyed perhaps. if a stranger came to sit next to you out of the blue, wouldn’t you be, too?

“mind if i sit here?” a mild pause signaled a response, and the shrug of his shoulders gave it away. “i’m not really enjoying the movie, and the space looked kinda cozy,” you added.

after you had thoroughly felt the soft cushion of the seat and all its comfort, it was rather difficult to stray away from it. every friday evening, the striped bedding of the couch awaited your presence, and a pillow of an identical design lay by the armrest. loki always got there first, a bowl of ice containing two ice cream bars in his grasp, and if the belief that he had ever been remotely inconsiderate damaged your reasoning, the chocolate chip cookie he gifted you at the start of every night proved you wrong.

if loki truly had to be honest with himself-his father, if he was peering down from above-the companionship you bestowed upon him didn’t upset him as he presumed it would. he half-expected his cold and antisocial nature to speak for itself, to grab hold of the kindness of your heart, crush it, and scatter its pieces so your blind hands would have to search aimlessly for them. for him, the opportunity would’ve been so effortless, so relieving in its own wicked sense, but you had already known that from the minute the tips of your sock-clad toes had walked right up to his. your words had been honey to him, simple yet profoundly eloquent that had dripped away every vowel on his tongue. the warmth that encircled you caromed over to him, and then his icy fingers became regular fingers, and his wintry complexion no longer overpowered the person he strived to be.

the thought alone of developing a kinship alarmed the presumably mischievous man, and when time, the most rewarding elements of his beloved universe, presented him with such a miraculous creature, he went into a comatose. the object of his interest was no longer an object, it was a person, an individual that appeared to envelop his nonexistent grace as if they depended on it. so his beautiful, virulent mind, as plentiful of wisdom as it was, conceived what it regarded to be the only correct answer.

the seconds of long anticipated hours grew legs, and urged fragments of minutes to run off. solitude embraced the area loki used to adore being in, and his absence planted a seed of confusion within the person always seated beside him. the following nights were mindless for you, even when wanda had selected your favorite films to view, your headspace drifting off to the god who wasn’t watching it with you. interactions between your team lessened. refusing a handful of thor’s popcorn became a habit, and although he questioned you about it, he never brought it up again. then, a month flew by before you could cognitively process it. loki’s eyes hardly ever witnessed daylight now, or you for that matter. more often than not, his ear perked up at the soft squeaks of sneakers before their shadow halted in front of his door. the air in his lungs would almost escape from him entirely, lips pursed so tightly he felt them turn white, before mere seconds later distorted voices trailed your feet away from the barrier that separated him from you. foolish, he’d been foolish to deceive you so childishly. what could he possibly tell you now, that wouldn’t lead you to scurry away from him?

tonight, the best remedy to get some rest was to fix some tea. a good read seemed suitable enough, too, so a copy of The Scarlet Letter decorated your pillow. you trusted your weary legs to navigate you to the kitchen while your brain busied in forming unrealistic scenarios, as silly as it sounds, and you were doing fine and dandy until a conversation reeled you back in. an all too familiar voice-one you hadn’t heard in so long-was speaking, ranting, about things that bothered him? yeah, that was it.

it was wrong to what you did at that moment, your dear mother had taught you better than this, but the never ending words spewing from loki’s mouth had glued the soles of your feet to the chilling tiles.

a heartbeat shriveled to nothing, a weighty ache engulfing it in all its mighty glory, and everything you ever came to know became deception. “...ridiculous! i’ll tell you one thing, brother, and that is that they’re absurd for thinking i’m better.”

a booming retort-thor’s-defended you. “you’re ridiculous. they’re good to you and you’re going to throw it away because you’re afraid?” he neatly placed his mug on the counter before his firm hand landed on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed in reassurance. “if you keep pushing people away, you’ll outlive centuries-worth of joy.” loki flicked it away. “do they truly matter to you? enough for you to stop hurting them?”

the wall pressing into your shoulder obscured the visual of loki nodding his head. the tea you craved for now sounded disgusting, and no matter how hard you blinked your eyes, a puddle threatened to hover over them. you began toying with the sleeves of your sweater, hating the emerald shade you chose for it, and your head drooped down to focus on its marbled designs. odd shapes helped center your emotions, too much that you missed a figure passing by the entry.

did you jump? yes. did loki jump? also yes.

“what-why are you-why are you standing there?” his voice was shaky, concerned. he looked at your figure over once, his nervous glare lingering a little too closely at the pigment of your shirt, before he focused on you. it was hard for him to miss your anguish. the question his brother had previously asked him looped in his head, and by odin yes-yes, you mattered to him.

“did you hear what i said?” he gulped. “all of it?”

your pupils were fully dilated, mouth inconceivably dry, so you muttered a tiny “yeah.”

“it’s alright, though. i’m not-i’m not mad, or sad, or whatever. i get it.” with enough strength, you pushed your body away from where you’d been cornered and started your leave. a tightening on your wrist stopped you.

“please don’t go.” loki never begged, and he always trusted his ego to prevent him from doing it, but he’d inflicted grief on his most treasured midgardian, and he’d have to remedy that. “please.”

“loki, hey it’s alright. i’ll leave you alone if that’s what you need.” he held you tighter before pulling your palm up to meet his chest. “what are you-look, i’m sorry-”

“you’re sorry?” he cut you off. “i’m sorry, don’t you see what you do to me?” the pad of one of his own hands moved to cover the back of yours to push it further onto his covered heart. it was beating faster than godly possible. if he were anyone else, maybe he was nearing a heart attack. “i do believe you’re the first one to do that.”

you ceased touching him before beginning to speak, but he knew your apologies, your questions, before they even escaped your lips. he fumbled on his words for some time, thorough confessions of his feelings never came as easily as he hoped, but he managed to get the point across. his obsidian, curly locks drizzling over his tiresome face distracted you, and his enticing features, his slurred attempts to achieve your forgiveness forced a tiny grin onto your mouth.

“it’s okay, honey,” you extended a hand outward in greeting. “let’s just start over, yeah?”

he choked on a breath at the name, and then two clammy hands melded into one, and everything was alright for once. “i’m loki, and the pleasure’s all mine, darling.”

#loki x reader #loki angst #loki fluff #loki odinson x reader #loki fanfiction #loki odinson fanfiction #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson fanfiction #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #my writing!

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restlessmaknae · 3 years

Text

youth is never coming back

Every year, on 13th June, he went to the graveyard. To remember. To forget. To say thank you. To regret. To let the tears fall and laugh with them.

♦ Characters: OT7 (Jin-focused)

♦ Genre: HYYH-based storyline, angst, drama

♦ Words: 8k

♦ Warning: mentions of phobias, mental disorders, suicide, physical abuse and major character deaths

PROLOGUE

It was 13th June.

Today − just like every year after I’ve turned 12 – I accompanied my grandfather who went to the cemetery to put some flowers on six particular graves. He slowly crouched down, accumulated all the fallen leaves and cleared the surface of each and every grave. Then, for long minutes, his eyes were staring far ahead and filled with bittersweet nostalgia. It seemed that something was eating him up; he was quietly struggling, clutching onto his chest, gasping for air and murmuring to himself.

When I first saw him, I thought that he was having an episode – it wouldn’t have been a surprise after all. But the moment I tapped him on the shoulder, he turned around to look at me and when our eyes met, I saw tiny teardrops shining in his eyes like beautiful sea pearls. He was definitely one of the most frightened creatures I have ever seen in my life. To my astonishment, he shrugged my help right away. He was stuttering, searching for the right words to say while I tried my best to help him but he didn’t let me – not even once.

As years went by, I became quite hesitant when I noticed that 13th June was just in a few days’ time. I asked my parents why I should go with him when I don’t even know the loved ones he’s visiting and they merely said the following:

“Your grandfather has a very tragic and sorrowful past. Since we can’t always give him a ride to the graveyard, at least you should be there for him. Once you will be old enough, I’m sure he would tell you what you need to know.”

That was it. Grandfather was always pretty reserved and secretive but until my first visit with him to the scary graveyard, I didn’t think much of it. After that, he became the definition of mystery for me. I knew that he had such a painful youth that everybody thought that it was a miracle that he was still alive; not hunted by ghosts and developing a mental illness.

It’s pretty weird to think of it that you have a grandfather whom people like to talk about and you still don’t know anything about him. Or at least, not those things that you are most curious about.

However, this year, it all became clear and I wished I hadn’t got all the answers this time. After his confession, several times I caught myself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying his memories in my mind. I frantically flinched whenever I heard screeching sounds of tyres or someone lit up a cigarette around me. I was never the same person and I couldn’t look at him the way I did before. I even understood why he said that youth is never coming back whenever I had to face obstacles.

Because he knew it; he knew that I could get over them because my problem was never as serious as his. Or his friends’. My teenage years were never as devastating and definite as his. And luckily, I was never in his shoes and could never feel the way he did. Now looking back, I know I should have been a happier person, I should have respected my friends more and I should have loved my family even more. I should have said thank you and sorry and I should have said I love you as well.

Why? It’s simple. Grandfather thought me that you never know when things would start falling apart and you never know when you see the faces of your friends for the last time. You could never be prepared for when they will be gone. And not just figuratively but really.

Since you never know when they will die.

THE STORY OF LILIES

The day had come.

My ordinary school day went by in its usual pace and I never allowed myself to wander off and start worrying about my afternoon visit to the graveyard. It was kind of terrifying to walk by hundreds of graves and I swear that I even heard whispers once. Maybe it was just another family member who didn’t have the chance to say goodbye to the loved one who had died. But it was still scary and small wonder why it wasn’t a favourite place of an 18-year-old high school student.

Anyway, it was still better than neglecting grandfather who seriously needed company and a helping hand after granny had died when I was 12. Yes, that was also the time when I became his partner for his graveyard trips on 13th June.

As I was leaving after my last class and unintentionally slammed the entrance door in somebody’s face, I noticed a familiar figure sitting on a newly painted bench in the park which was in front of our school.

“Grandpa!” I exclaimed as I was approaching him and saw the lilies in his hands. It was always those lilies; he bought them every single time we went to those graves and there was always six of them. Six beautiful but stern piles of lilies.

“Nari!” A genuine smile was forming on his lips when he heard my fairly childish voice and began to stand up. I walked faster in order to help him and gave him a tight hug when we succeeded.

He was old, I was aware of that. 72 years could be considered quite old but he wasn’t old because of his silver-grey hair or bad eye-sight. Everybody knew why he was like that; because of all those horrifying things that happened to him when he was young. Some people were particularly surprised that he could make it to 72 years; some didn’t even expect him to survive after what had happened back then. And what I knew nothing about.

“How was school today?” He whispered while I was still hugging him and I was only able to withdraw when I had to answer. I suppose a frown was evident on my face.

“Tiring as usual,” I rolled my eyes in annoyance because what else could I say? School was tiring and boring as always. Nothing interesting ever happened there. Not like I wanted my life to be fast-paced but it wasn’t the least interesting.

“You should cherish these years as well. Once you will be old like me, you will regard this time of your life as the best one.” He stated absent-mindedly and I had this feeling again that he was referring to his own youth.

“I know, grandpa. But it’s hard…” I whined like a toddler and let out an irritated grumble.

“It is.” He nodded in agreement and his words were all part of his little secret; the one that only he knew. Maybe I wasn’t still old enough to know the truth.

We slowly fell into a comfortable silence. We didn’t even talk for the next 25 minutes except me asking him where we should sit on the bus. When we finally arrived at the graveyard, I started fidgeting anxiously because I exactly knew what was following. The same old sorrowful routine which I knew step by step.

As we were on our way to those particular graves, the almost touchable proximity to the dead made my heart beat in bewilderment. This whole mysterious, stern and terrifying atmosphere was lingering around us; the thought that one day I would be here as well always seemed to cross my mind. I couldn’t help nibbling my lips.

We were getting closer and closer and my heart was beating faster and faster. The moment we reached the first grave, grandfather turned to face me and said:

“Would you mind holding these for me?” He asked with a broken smile and looked down at his pale hands. He was referring to those six lilies which he was holding firmly.

“Not at all.” I mustered and grabbed the handful of flowers. I didn’t get it. Why did it always have to be those lilies? Why couldn’t it be roses or baby’s breath? Why couldn’t it be something that wasn’t connected to me?

He didn’t say more, so I didn’t know what to do. Should I let him struggle alone and stand a little bit further away – like always? Or would he need the flowers in the next minute?

“Grandpa…” I whispered hesitantly.

‘You can stay.”

The sudden permission struck me like lighting. I wasn’t prepared for him allowing me to stay. My blood ran cold.

I opened my mouth to say something but he had already averted his eyes to the grave when I was finally able to speak. Suddenly, he tucked his hands into his pockets and got out some polaroids. Judging from how torn they looked, they could be pretty old. He looked down at them and a minute of silence followed.

I didn’t even dare to breathe, the seconds seemed so unbreakable. I could only hear the sound of my crazily beating heart and screeching tyres from the distance. I was shivering.

Then, he chose one polaroid and held it in front of his face, examining it again and again. He didn’t seem nervous or scared, he was perfectly in control of his emotions. He was standing there – stern and brave – like a statue. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded strained.

“Kim Taehyung, my dear friend,” he cleared his throat and stopped after saying the name out loud. I only knew about this boy because he was once one of grandfather’s friends but I was never told whether he was still alive or already died. Well, obviously, I knew the answer by now.

“You were always a kid to me; a talkative, bubbly kid. I thought that you always saw the bright side of life and enjoyed joking around and teasing others. Your smile was something that made our days better. Your laugh was something that made us laugh as well. Maybe you couldn’t recognise it but you were the centre of the wheel.”

Grandfather’s words were lovely and heart-warming. My shoulders loosened as I started listening to him and even though the sadness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, his words soothed my nerves a little.

“Soon I had to realise that this was just the surface,” he croaked and my heart almost missed a beat. “There’s no denying that you were the one who had to suffer the most. We were aware of the fact that your frequently drunk father beat you, your mom and your sister. We knew about your bruises that you tried to cover with your long-sleeved shirt and baggy pants yet they couldn’t cover them all. That’s how I recognised it first and alarmed the others but you didn’t let us help you. You said that you would try to find a way to make things right. But after the day when he beat your mom to death, you couldn’t take your anger back.” He continued with shaky voice and I was at the verge of fainting, sternly holding onto those lilies and trying to pacify my crazily beating heart. No, that can’t be. He couldn’t have done that.

“Everyone thinks that you were the motive of the whole butterfly effect; of us falling one by one. But even if it’s true, you need to know that we never blamed you. You had to do what was right; you had to save your sister and even yourself. It was self-defence and you didn’t mean to take your father’s life. We knew. But we also knew that you could go to jail because there was no evidence and maybe that was why you decided to end your own life. You were always a good friend, a brother almost and we thought that we could easily read your mind. However, on that day, when you climbed up on that platform, we didn’t have the slightest idea that you would do so. That you would jump off and leave us. You couldn’t see but we tried to save you – at least 5 of us. We jumped into the sea, one after another, trying to swim to the area you had landed but when we finally found you, your heart had already stopped beating. You can’t even imagine how long we tried to cherish the thought that you weren’t dead and there was still hope. We tried to resuscitate you but there was no response. You were the first to leave us.”

My nerves were frazzled, I could barely breathe. I had never once imagined Kim Taehyung committing suicide because of his father. I had never once imagined any of grandfather’s friends ending their own lives. I couldn’t even muster a single thing as I started to puzzle up his words.

“Thank you for being a resilient fighter and caring brother! Your sister had the chance to live a full, happy life thanks to you. She now has children and even grandchildren but my favourite one is her first-born son…” He confessed coyly, his cheeks tinted pink. He looked down at the photo and then up again. A pearl-like teardrop was already shining in his eyes when he continued. “His name is Taehyung.”

I had to look away in order not to start weeping. Even if I didn’t have the chance to meet him, I was sure that he was such a lovable person. I already respected him with all my heart as he sacrificed so much because of his family.

“Thank you for being with us, Kim Taehyung,” he whispered, silently crouching down and putting the photo on his grave accompanied by one pile of lilies. Then, he bowed and my heart ached for him. I helped him to get up and we moved onto the next grave. There, he hold onto another picture and started talking – with only a mysterious half-smile just like before.

“Park Jimin, my dear friend,” he pondered and got his grip together. “You were always a delighted, open-minded and positive person. You didn’t let any day pass by without your trademark eye-smile appearing on your face. You gave in so easily and joined us in whatever stupid thing we wanted to do. You were always radiant. However, as they say, you can fall the hardest from the top of the world. And that day−“he trailed off and paced out for a moment or so. “That day literally broke you.”

I peered over grandfather’s shoulder to look at the next polaroid. All I could see was a charming, black-haired boy at around the age of 18. He looked beaming and satisfied like nothing on Earth could bother him. There was actually no boy like him nowadays; everyone was either busy and stressed or greedy and selfish. He must have been a lovely person to be around.

“Taehyung’s death affected all of us but you were the one who couldn’t take the pain. It was mostly because of shame. Because you couldn’t save him and couldn’t even intend to save him. You had aquaphobia from a very young age and seeing him jumping into the water made you more terrified than ever. You had a constant fear of water and when we all jumped in to save him, you were standing there, frozen and absolutely devastated. I saw the commitment in your eyes when we pulled Taehyung to the surface but you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t swim and it drove you crazy. You were screaming and walking up and down on the harbour like a lunatic, tears constantly sliding down your cheeks. I could see that there was hope shining in your eyes when we managed to get him to you. You didn’t know then that he was already dead, just when you tried to listen to his heartbeat. You couldn’t hear anything. Anything at all,” he said, his voice barely audible. There was a moment or so when he suddenly stopped and I thought that he would start crying but he didn’t. He stayed strong, firmly holding onto the picture like it could bring Jimin back. I was the one who was already on the edge of tears.

“After that, there was no turning back. You were lost in the maze of confusion, shame and regret,” he shook his head and his voice suddenly became so raspy. “When I heard the news, I couldn’t believe it. You left us, you ended your life in the same way Taehyung did. You drown yourself in your bathtub. I don’t know if it was because you thought that you would do justice to his memory or because you wanted to overcome your fear. Whatever your reason was, I just want you to know that you shouldn’t have blamed yourself. It wasn’t your mistake, Taehyung wouldn’t have blamed you. He also wouldn’t have wanted you to follow him,” he continued and my world suddenly became numb. How was that possible that such wonderful people decided to end their own lives? Just by thinking about it, my heart broke into tiny little pieces. The world was all wrong.

“Thank you for being a loyal friend and a sunshine in everybody’s life! Boyeon’s also doing fine but she couldn’t fall in love with anyone else. Your bond must have been too strong to let her fall for any other man. She still has that angle-like smile – like you called it – but it’s slightly broken now. As she loved you till the end, she still does,” he crouched down, put the polaroid and another lily on the grave and stood up again. I had no idea who Boyeon was but I puzzled up his words and assumed that she was Jimin’s love. I couldn’t even imagine her pain; loving someone and waking up one day to the thought that this someone was already in another world. “Thank you for being with us, Park Jimin,” he bowed slowly and respectfully, his eyes full of affection and concern. Every of his words were sincere yet heart-wrenching and I couldn’t be prepared for what was following.

“Jeon Jungkook, my dear friend,” we moved onto the next grade and grandfather looked at another torn picture. It showed a young boy with a cheeky smile and the most wonderful pitch-black eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. His childish features couldn’t hide the fact that he was younger than his other two friends but he was also so tall compared to another guy who was beside him. I soon realised that the one who slanged his arms around the boy’s shoulder was actually grandpa. Of course, in a younger version, with his fluffy chestnut-brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes. They looked so happy, it hurt to look at that scene.

“You were always a bit shy and more introverted than the others but we still liked you like that. We somehow managed to break down your walls and it turned out that you were actually quite amusing. You even teased your hyungs but never went too far. You always helped me when I wanted to cook something and you were always there when any of us needed company. You were truly an amazing friend,” he whispered with awe and looked up at the grave. It must have been hard for him, seeing that this was the only thing that Jungkook had left off. I felt the same when grandma died; I tried to cling onto the beautiful memories, the touch of her beloved books, the scent of her pillow but it eventually faded away. Memories became shorter and more distant, her scent was faint and her books were given away for charity.

“I never thought that you would fall apart like that. You were always the one who were good at everything and couldn’t even hurt anyone. Of course, you had enemies because they were jealous of you but you always fought back. Yet, going home after Jimin’s funeral, you let them hurt you. They beaten you up, they kicked you, they punched you in the face and you didn’t fight back. Not even once. When they realised it as well, they abandoned you in an alleyway and God knows how long did you stay there. You probably wanted to go home when you crossed a road but the traffic light was red. The driver of the car didn’t notice you in time and hit you. Even the ambulance couldn’t save you. When they arrived, you had already died,” his voice shook a little as he said ‘died’ out loud. I felt like my heart was in the abyss of sorrow; it gripped me from the very first word and didn’t let me go. I was shivering and my mind was full of crazily scattered imaginations. Pain was slowly engulfing my heart and encaging my thoughts. I gulped.

“Thank you for letting us see your beautiful soul! You were the most unselfish friend we’ve ever had. It’s cruel of this world to take you away from us because unlike Taehyung or Jimin, you didn’t want to end your life. You just wanted to forget about the pain. I hope, wherever you are now, you can’t feel pain. I hope you smile there like you always did and watch out for me,” he suddenly looked up at the sky, his eyes wandering, looking for Jungkook’s place among the invisible stars. His lips were slowly dissolving into a bittersweet smile. “Thank you for being with us, Jeon Jungkook,” he croaked and looked down at his own hands which were holding the polaroid tightly. He let out a sorrowful sigh. His hands were slightly shaky when he reached out to me, waiting for another pile of lily. I handed it to him but my heart broke when our eyes met. The usual affectionate glint in his eyes was gone; it was replaced by grief. I had never seen him so broken.

When he put the flower and the polaroid on the grave, he waited a minute before he stood up. I saw as he tried to wipe away his tears with his thumbs. I knew it was still not the end of our trip but I didn’t assume that he would hold back his tears for so long. Maybe it was because he rather accepted his friends’ decisions than the twists of fate.

Then, he reached out to another polaroid and started talking again.

“Min Yoongi, my dear friend,” he let out a sigh and cleared his throat before he continued. “You had a lot of different sides but despite being grumpy in the mornings, you know that even the younger ones really liked you. You were exceptionally hard-working and when you put your mind to something, you could always succeed. You were also quite amusing and made us laugh several times. The kids liked to tease you about being lazy but you would never mind their bickering. You would never admit it but deep in your heart, you really cared about all of us. You were the first to jump into the water after Taehyung committed suicide and the first to break down into tears when you heard the news of Jimin’s death. But as you always said, your biggest fear consumed you in the end,” he drew another heavy sigh and shifted his gaze away.

I respected him with all my heart; how he could talk about such sorrowful things was absolutely honourable. He didn’t hide anything, his soul was completely bare yet full of wounds. He was almost like a moon flower; it bloomed in the dazzling moonlight until its worst enemy approached the flower. Like the sunlight for the moon flower, memories were grandfather’s toughest opponents. As soon as the sun came up, as soon as memories began to tear him apart, he closed. I hope I could help him this time if he wanted to close again.

“You had pyromania but you could control it well, even experts didn’t believe in your progress after you had showed signs when you were young,” he slowly shifted his attention back to the grave, his eyes full of the most beautiful shining stars of dismay. “Your parents always cared about you but you became distant with them and even moved out when you had turned 20. So, they stated that it was because of us; we were the ones who motivated you to control your urges. You didn’t even start a fire when you were with us, just sometimes played with the lighter but nothing serious. However, after the death of three of our friends, you couldn’t take it back. When you were around us, you didn’t show any sign of fear but at home, you probably struggled a lot because in the end, that’s how you ended your own life. By burning up your room and yourself. Doctors said that when you started the fire, you just wanted to relieve tension and never actually thought that you would die because that’s how addicts think,” he trailed off and gulped. His lips were quivering. “It didn’t help to wash our pain away,” he stammered with subtle voice and that was the moment when he didn’t want to hide his tears anymore. He lifted his head up, his eyes shining with proud teardrops, slowly spilling down his cheeks.

“Thank you for always caring about us and overcoming your fear when you were with us! You were such a strong and brave person because you were able to say no to your urges and lead a healthier life. You taught us how to fight against our enemies, even if it’s our own mind who we fight against. There are so many things that we could learn from you and you had a huge influence on the younger ones even if you wouldn’t call it that,” he said and stopped for a moment. “Thank you for being with us, Min Yoongi,” he bowed respectfully, almost in a 90-degree angle.

Soon, the first teardrop landed on the surface of the grave. He wasn’t crying helplessly like a starving person craving for food; he was merely sobbing silently like he didn’t even want to break the peaceful silence. I also tried not to bother him but I couldn’t take my tears back. The more I played his memories in my head, the more I wanted to cry. I was wretched, wounded and enraged at the same time. How could this world be so cruel? How could fate write such endings for these boys? It didn’t seem right. The world suddenly became a big, cruel mess for me.

Grandfather put down the picture and the lily on the grave without any word. I tried to wipe away my tears but to no avail. As much as I wanted to run away and cry until I dozed off, I also wanted to stay beside him until the end. I still had some questions to ask and I still believed that I could only do justice to grandfather’s friends if I listened to all of their stories.

“Jung Hoseok, my dear friend,” he stepped to another grave and got out another polaroid from his pocket. It was torn as well but the smile on the boy’s face was so radiant that I couldn’t see anything, expect his joyful grin. He was the definition of that so-called light, someone whose smile was definitely sincere. “You were always such an energetic, light-hearted person, a beaming light in the darkest times. You never really cared whether you looked ridiculous until you could make someone smile with your behaviour. You smiled a lot and laughed a lot. When we were down, you were the one who pulled us through the hardships and showed us that there are always happier times waiting for us. You were caring, sincere and loyal, a truly amazing friend. I’m sorry that we couldn’t help you,” he suddenly admitted and his voice sounded so weary and extremely painful. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find a way to help your insomnia.”

I gasped for air; I felt like the words triggered so many emotions at once that the atmosphere became unbearably suffocating. I found it even harder to breathe as he continued.

“You had to take pills for your disorder and it helped at first. You said that you still found it hard to sleep at nights, mostly because of pressure to do well on your exams but you slept well when you could. We were relieved. It never affected our friendship since you controlled it well like Yoongi did but we were still worried about you. Your smiles were the only ones that could set us at ease. However, the more of our friends died, the more you couldn’t sleep. The pain was even unbearable when you were awake, so I can’t even imagine how much you could have struggled because you weren’t able to sleep. You mentioned that the others were hunting you in your dreams when you finally fell asleep and it scarred you to death. You didn’t even think it through, you just took more and more of those pills and it helped to release some of the pain. One day, you went too far and overdosed yourself. I wish it hadn’t happened like that. You, like Yoongi, probably didn’t know what you did, just wanted to get away from the pain. I wish we had done more but we couldn’t,” he shook his head in disbelief and went silent for some seconds. My tears kept sliding down but I didn’t mind. Sometimes tears could say more than words; sometimes it was the only way to show how we really felt.

“Thank you for being a warm-hearted, considerate and cheerful friend! Thank you for being our guiding light in the darkest times and showing us that life is beautiful even if obstacles occur. Thank you for making us smile when even you weren’t in the mood to smile. You were the one who we could lean on and you always put others’ happiness before yours. You were the source of light and joy in our lives. Without you, our days would have been so much harder,” grandfather sobbed and looked more broken than ever. “Thank you for being with us, Jung Hoseok,” he cried out in pain and dropped to the grave.

I immediately hurried to him, observing if his condition had anything to do with his poor health but it didn’t seem so. When I gently patted his back, he turned to face me and I didn’t even know how to phrase the expression on his face. You know, when you see a sun going down and you have this ambivalent feeling, that odd combination of happiness and sadness. Looking at the sunset, you are aware that something is over and something is still on the way. Maybe that’s how I could portray him; he was terribly hurt and somewhat gloriously calm at the same time.

“Grandfather−“ I started but was cut off by him.

“It’s okay. I-I will just need some minutes to re-arrange my thoughts,” he muttered and I obligated, still in the state of shock. I didn’t even intend to stop my tears from falling because I didn’t want to. All I wanted to do was to let it all out and clear my mind. I was terrified and his memories were haunting me whenever my eyes were slipping shut. There’s no doubt that I believed him, I believed every of his words but I still couldn’t believe the fact that life could be so cruel to them. Having 6 friends is an amazing gift but losing all of them is a horrible curse. How would anyone expect you to move on and forget the pain? I’m not at all surprised that grandfather had episodes several times and even spent years at a mental institute. Now it was all clear why.

Some moments later, he got up again and put the photo with the lily on the grave. He didn’t hesitate before he took a step forward to the last grave. He let out a sigh. He looked at a new photo which showed a laughing guy sitting on the floor, half of his face covered by his hoodie.

“Kim Namjoon, my dear friend,” his voice came out hoarse as he started to speak. “You were always like the leader of the team as you took care of each of us. You liked to tease us when we made a mistake but never forgot to support us whenever we needed encouragement. I guess you put a good balance between strictness and affection. Even if the younger ones liked to make fun of you and your hilarious dance moves, you couldn’t really mind. You liked to make us laugh and know that everything’s going well,” he stopped and pursed his lips a little. My heart always melted a bit when I heard the beginning description of grandfather’s friends but immediately became icy when he continued. The case of Namjoon was no exception.

“You were an orphan; your parents adopted you when you were only 6 years old. You spent your whole life at an orphanage and began to work in the hope of renting a flat for yourself. You worked at a gas station, helping customers but people looked down on you, especially after hearing those rumours about us. Some even stated that Jungkook was hit by either you or me and some said that we encouraged others to commit suicide. The worst was that they began to think that we would follow them, that we would also commit suicide and almost waited for us to do so. They feared you at the orphanage and you started to fear yourself as well. I remember having a talk with you one day about the future. You said that I needed to survive, no matter what. To prove them wrong. I had no idea then that you said that because you wanted to end your own life,” he shook his head in disbelief and his whole body was trembling.

Even though sunshine was filling up the afternoon silence of the graveyard, everything was grey for me. I didn’t feel warmth, I didn’t feel happiness, I only felt pain and sorrow. I couldn’t imagine that I would ever commit suicide but under such circumstances, I quite understood why these boys did. Not only did they have to wake up each day for the absence of their friends but they also had to bear the gossip and people around them. Not only did the world abandon them but also people who should have helped. What kind of wicked game was it?

“One day, you were left alone working at the gas station and no customers were in sight for a longer period. So you casually lit up a cigarette, then throw it onto the ground and let the flames unite with fuel. According to the CCTV cameras, you perfectly planned it because there wasn’t any sign of fear or regret on your face. By the time the neighbours noticed the fire, the gas station had already exploded. The firefighters could put off the fire but they couldn’t save you. You left me without saying goodbye, just asking me to survive,” his voice shook a little as the last words left his mouth. Tears were streaming down his face, slowly and augustly. He still remained invincible, he still stood there like a wonderful state of art.

“Thank you for being the glue within our friends. Without you, we might have fallen apart but because you were always there, we maintained our relationship despite any arguments and the growing tension as our friends were leaving. Thank you for always encouraging us to keep going and helping us to find our ways. We needed a compass like you to know where our map is leading us. Even though you left us, left me, your last message was important and I never forgot what you said,” he sniffled as he put the photo and the last pile of lily on the grave. He remained silent for a minute and didn’t even budge a bit. “Thank you for being with us, Kim Namjoon,” he broke down into tears and heavy sobs again as he said goodbye to his last friend.

He crouched down, burying his face in his hands while he let out all those tears and pain which he held back during the previous year. Even if he didn’t make noise, even if he didn’t scream violently or yelling at those graves, it was still extremely difficult to look at him. He was hurt, he was broken and he was all alone. His friends left him and nobody could feel the way he did. Nobody could understand him as well as they would have done if they hadn’t died. He was struggling, he was dying every single second, yearning after his friends.

“You all left me by 13th June and I couldn’t do anything but suffer. I missed you and it hurt so much. The pain was unbearable but every time I thought I would give up, I remembered what Namjoon had said and lifted my head up. Because people needed to know what kind of friends I had. What beautiful and brave friends accompanied me throughout my younger years. You were my youth and the moment I was left alone, it was all gone. I know that you are never coming back again,” he cried out in pain and didn’t move for the next 30 minutes.

Chaos erupted in my head as I also fell onto the ground. I cried so hard when I remembered for what grandfather had always said to me. It all made sense now.

Youth is never coming back.

EPILOGUE

“Grandpa?” I asked hesitantly as we were sitting on the bus, heading back to my parents’ house. It was, I believe, almost half an hour after we had both let out all our emotions.

“Yes, Nari-ah?” he looked at me curiously, furrowing his eyebrows in question. His eyes were still a little bit teary and swollen but so were mine. I don’t remember crying so hard for so long all my life before. I must have looked scary and terrible but I didn’t mind.

“I have some questions,” I stated confidently but the reluctance in my voice didn’t go unnoticed. I didn’t know whether or not I had the permission to ask questions but I was undoubtedly curious. “Would you mind answering them?”

“I would be surprised if you didn’t have questions,” he responded and his face slowly dissolved into an affectionate smile. “Of course I wouldn’t mind answering them. Go ahead!” he encouraged me and even pressed my hand gently which he was holding for some minutes now. We didn’t talk after we had left the graveyard but grandfather’s hand immediately found mine. His touch soothed my nerves a little and I guess he wasn’t the only one who needed reassurance.

“Did you make those polaroids?” I started, still trying to erase all those delighted faces from my memory. It hurt so much. Knowing how little did the world need to push them off the cliff. One moment, they were together, laughing freely and teasing each other and in the next minute, it was all falling apart. They were gone, one by one, until grandfather was left alone, in the abyss of endless sorrow.

“I’ve made them myself,” he nodded slowly and pondered over for a thought. “I got a camera from my parents when I turned 18 and I always tried to capture our happiest moments. As I was rummaging through a cupboard last week, I found these polaroids and thought about giving them to the boys,” he continued absent-mindedly and the fact that he still called his friends ‘the boys’ made my heart ache. He was right, they were still boys when they left him, but it was heart-wrenching to think about it.

“Okay, then,” I gulped and mustered all my courage. “Who was Boyeon? Was she Jimin’s love?” I inquired and a slight twinkle appeared in his chocolate-brown eyes.

“Ah, yes, I forgot that you don’t know her,” he massaged his temple nervously as he realised that I had never even heard of Boyeon. It wasn’t a surprise since there was a big chapter of grandfather’s life that I was never permitted to read. Yet, now that he shared it with me, maybe he could also answer some of my questions. “Yes, indeed she was. But I guess they were more than lovers, they were almost soulmates. Their bond was so strong and despite Jimin suffering after Taehyung’s death and pushing her away, Boyeon never once thought of leaving him. They met a year before Jimin died and we were so happy they found each other. Boyeon was a truly wonderful young lady; smiley, optimistic, cheerful, childish and a little bit cocky. We ate together several times as she always cooked meals for us and she actually liked spending time with the 7 of us,” he continued and a kind of bittersweet nostalgia seemed to have taken hold of him. He was smiling sheepishly, simply out of the sudden joy that the memories triggered.

“How is she doing now?”

“Well,” he rubbed his chin, probably wondering how he should phrase what he wanted to say. “I had a phone call from her last week and she said that she was doing just fine. But if you want to know, she could never fall in love with another man after Jimin had died. She was beautiful and captivating indeed, lots of boys wanted to approach her but I guess she never felt the way with them than the way she did when she was with Jimin. I believe that’s what they call ever-lasting love,” he said absent-mindedly and turned to face me again. I think it was obvious that was only my second question and not the last.

“How did you know about how your friends died? I mean, in Jungkook’s case, you wasn’t there when those guys attacked him,” I gestured intensely as I tried to let him know what I didn’t get. His narration was so real, like he saw everything with his own eyes but it was impossible.

“Well, in Jungkook’s case, I only know about this particular detail because after they had filed a police report about the accident, those boys also admitted what they had done. They felt shameful because he died after they had beaten him up, so they wanted to report themselves. As for Jimin, her mother was the one who found him in the bathtub and every sign and the doctors’ examinations implied that he had drown himself. It was the same with Yoongi and Hoseok; the investigations showed that their disorders were the cause of their death. And for Namjoon, it was the CCTV that revealed everything,” he looked out of the window while he answered but I couldn’t blame him for it. It must have been so difficult for him, even if it happened decades ago. Even if I was only listening to the boys’ stories and not experiencing it, I was still in the state of shock and I assumed that I would be for a long time.

It was maybe the most sensitive topic which I was about to broach but I couldn’t hold it back anymore. It was time for me to ask about him.

“And what happened to you? That’s why you were at the mental institute, right?” I looked straight into his eyes which suddenly widened.

“How do you know about that?” he wrinkled his nose nervously but his tone wasn’t abusive, just merely curious.

“Grandma told me once,” I admitted with a sheepish smile but he didn’t seem to mind it. I was always a bit nosy and when I once freaked out about grandfather’s mysterious atmosphere, she shared this little detail with me. It was not too long before she died and I guess it’s one of the reasons why I would have never wanted to ask about his youth.

“And your grandmother also told you that she was a nurse at that mental institute and that’s how we met?” he glanced at me but I couldn’t even muster a single word. My jaw dropped and my heart missed a beat. I mean, I knew that grandmother was a doctor but she was working at a hospital as far as I could remember. “Before she became a doctor at the Yangji Hospital, she was working with me and other patients at the institute. I couldn’t make sensible decisions then, so my parents got me out of university and decided that it would be the best if I stayed at a mental institute. I stayed there for 6 years. Your grandmother was my consultant and helped me through all those dark years,” he smiled thankfully and still didn’t let go of my hands. 6 years. 6 friends. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

I didn’t want to ask more about his years at the institute because it must have been a hell for him. I didn’t want to dig too deep and there was still a lot of time for us to talk about it or at least I hoped so. However, this confession explained why grandmother and grandfather’s relationship was so strong and admirable. They were always close and didn’t even raise their voices during any kind of argument. They were patient and considerate towards each other. As far as I could remember, they had a long and happy marriage.

“And why do you always carry lilies with you?” I asked as my last question but it piqued my curiosity from the start. “This has something to do with the fact that my name means lily?” I glanced at him shyly. My name was Nari which meant ‘lily’ in Korean and knowing that everything had a meaning in grandfather’s life, I was suspicious about the flower as well.

“Well, you know people always bring lilies to the loved one’s graves. But do you know why?” I just shook my head. I had no idea. “They say that it symbolizes that the soul of the departed has received restored innocence after death. This is also why your name means innocence and purity. I just wanted to protect you from all those terrible things that my friends received by suggesting this name to your parents and they somehow accepted. I hope you don’t mind,” he coyly scratched the back of his neck and looked at me, his eyes full of fear. Love sprung through my veins and I felt my heart melting after his affectionate words.

“No, I don’t mind. Actually, I love it,” I bobbed my head thankfully and gave him a thankful gaze. He smiled back at me and when we got off the bus, we still didn’t let go of each other’s hands. He needed me just as much as I needed him. He shared my secret with him and so I shared my youth with him.

#bts #hyyh #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts angst #bts hyyh #bts drama #jin scenarios #jin imagines #jin angst #jin drama #jin hyyh #seokjin scenarios #seokjin imagines #seokjin angst #seokjin drama #seokjin hyyh #my story #restlessmaknae

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masteroftheblade · 3 years

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What are your favorite and least favorite animes? Why do you like/dislike them?

oh god here we go lmao 🤠👍 prepare for an entire novel as always lol

my favorite animes atm are Naruto, Dragon Ball, Attack on Titan, and Claymore. Overall, my favorite genre of anime is shonen (and in case you dont know what that is, its basically shows that are marketed to young boys. it'll have shit like superpowers and poorly written female characters). My least favorite genre is Shoujo (marketed at young girls). I honestly don't hate the entire genre, I just hate how much romance is in there since im pretty romance-repulsed. If there were more Shoujo series like Claymore, I'd probably be in love w/ it. I'll start talking about these shows individually, starting w/ Naruto.

1. Naruto.

Honestly, the only reason I started watching Naruto was because my friends peer pressured me into doing it, and it actually differed from what I expected it to be story-wise. The beginning of the show started off amazing; it had excellent world building, magic systems, interesting characters, and it attempted to address how messed up the whole shinobi system is. But then Naruto got on the front page of Shonen Jump, and everything went down from there. It started to focus more on cool fight scenes than the actual plot. I wont get too much into that, because you can literally find entire blogs dedicated to dissecting that, but Naruto killed itself w/ its own popularity. That said, I love the characters and world building and I can look past most of its flaws anyway.

Would I recommend reading/watching it? Yes, but only to say you did it for bragging rights. Don't go into watching Naruto if you want deep looks into imperialism and militarized governments, because you will get the complete opposite of that :P Also the best way to watch it is to watch it with friends.

2. Dragon Ball.

I only started watching DB about a month ago, so take what I say with a grain of salt, but I think its a garbage series. The fight scenes have little to no weight to them, because no matter what, the protagonist of that episode will always succeed in some way. For example, when Goku (a 12 y/o boy) was fighting Giran (a 10ft tall godzilla man) and was getting his ass beat until Goku just... randomly grows back his tail that was cut off earlier and wins. We are never told why he grew back his tail, and i think he only gets it back so he can have a cool fight scene in a later episode. Goku can literally be battling genocidal gods and he will still always win. The show also goes out of its way to sexualize/show a female character being harrassed. Every. Fucking. Episode.

That said, it is a fun show, and I really enjoy watching it. Like Naruto, I really love the characters and the world they are in, I just hate the way it was handled, and its painfully obvious that DB was made by a bunch of old men in the 80s. Unlike Naruto, however, I really appreciate how simple it is. It doesn't force a narrative about space genocide or whatever being bad, and I'm very thankful because that kind of narrative would be absolutely botched in this kind of series. It's also nice to have a show that doesn't take itself too seriously. Shows like AOT are amazing and important, but those shows can be overwhelming with their heavy subject matter. I would only recommend watching DB if you want to see some really good art/character design. Don't take the show seriously, and you'll have a good time.

3.Attack On Titan.

This anime was actually the first I've ever seen! I saw the very first episode when it aired in 2014, so I'm definetely biased in that regard, but I still try to look at this show in the most objective way I can. This show does almost everything right. The pacing, the characters, the art, the plot, you name it. It takes a concept that looks silly on paper and turns it into this grueling story about war, politics, and the trauma of being a soldier. It never treats it's characters like they're only one-dimensional, or like they are there just for one purpose only. These characters feel human in a way Naruto and Dragon Ball could never be. But there is one thing that has me concerned about this show, and its about the weirdly anti-Semitic undertones it has.

You probably heard the controversy already, but it really effected the way people on the outside of the fandom view the series. The show is heavily inspired by European culture, specifically that of Germany, and there are an ethnic group of people called The Eldians in the show that are pretty anti-Semitic in this kind of setting. The Eldian people have the capability of turning into Titans, and the Titans are what divided the world and killed millions. As a result, another group of people started doing the shit the Nazis did to Jewish people, basically making the Eldians into this weird allegory for the holocaust??? Which was kind of a shock to me when I first realized that was the angle they were going for. I genuinely did not expect that considering what the series started off as. The foreshadowing is there and all, I just didn't think they'd use real-world events as inspiration.

Now, this actually has the complete opposite problem Naruto and DB had. Naruto and DB had amazing ideas and concepts that went to shit, AOT's whole holocaust narrative was trash from the beginning.

The show could have easily had a different kind of social/political commentary without even going near the holocaust narrative. It comes off as kind of a half assed idea that people put way too much effort in, so it's kind of in this weird grey-area between "modern anime masterpiece" and "what the fuck were they trying to get across with this show?". If you asked me what the moral of the show was, I wouldn't be able to tell you.

Now, because of the fact that the Eldians can literally turn into man-eating beasts, this makes the comparison of Jewish people and Eldians very racist, and it doesn't help that Japan is still full of legitimate Nazis, making the whole situation look even worse. Since I am not Jewish, I wont speak for other Jewish people. There is a very heated debate on whether the show is racist, and frankly I don't think it's within my right to say if it is or isn't. What I will say, is that I really loved the show and appreciated the social commentary it provided, and I think a lot of people would benefit from watching it, but I think it's also important to listen to Jewish people's views on the show. For this reason, I specifically avoid reblogging AOT stuff, but I do love that show and I wont hate on people who do reblog stuff from it. It's definitely not a light watch, but it does provide a lot of thinking material.

4. Claymore.

This. Show. Was. Amazing. But. Underrated.

First off, this is a shonen show that is led by a majority female cast and a female protagonist, and all of those women are badass swordwielding lesbians and I love it. Second, the art style is beautiful. Third, the story is really interesting from so many angles, so much so I am not even going to mention what its about because you dont need to know, you just need to watch it and see what happens. The first season was an absoloute ride of a show, and if you love shows like AOT or Berserk, you'll love Claymore. Honestly, this show was what AOT should have tried to be. It also has its fair share of militarized imperialist commentary, but this is the only show on this list that actually fucking critiques imperialist ideals and has a main character that actively refuses to participate in that kind of oppressive system, choosing to fight it all together.

But the show got fucking cancelled right before the first arc even finished. You can thank shows like Naruto for that 🙃🙃🙃

10/10 Would reccomend, but just be prepared to be left on a major cliffhanger. You can try reading the manga, but it's kind of hard to follow since all of the warrior girls look the same.

#i spent too much time writing this #oh well #im not gonna tag the shows i talked about in this bcuz if i do ill get discourse blogs to start shitting on me #so im just gonna avoid it all together lol #also didnt write abt my least faves because this was too long to write as is #anyway as promised we can now get married any time you want @kindasortasalty /j /p #👩‍🦲

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felassan · 4 years

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None of this is particularly new but w/e, it’s sleepy midnight wonderings o’clock, having been thinking about the new WIPs in relation to TN and the DWR teaser (Cut for length). The images are messy caps and a random assortment of sizes and so best viewed individually because the thumbnail doesn’t always focus on the bit/all of the bit that I was trying to point to.

In the EA Play WIPs, the tree in the first shot recalls the tree depicted in the 2018 DWR teaser trailer - both are elfy, dark-barked and have spreading branches devoid of leaves. I feel that this was an intentional callback and contains potent symbolism.

Back to some old hat mural burbling for a sec: The mural is interesting, as depending on how you look at it, the tree is ruined by flames ("burning in the raw chaos" indeed) and is on fire, and the Solas-y figure has passed by it on his way to do his thing (unfortunate unavoidable damage/casualties). Alternately, it’s standing untouched among the flames despite the fire, the rest of the land is burning in the chaos and the Solas-y figure is protecting the tree (placed himself between it and the rest) which is likely representative of the elven People by doing what he’s doing wiith the Veil and standing there w/ that ‘Gandalf you shall not pass’ shtick. What’s interesting is that in this series it’s probably both or a combination of both interpretations which is the truth.

In Tevinter Nights, we of course learn that Solas is in the process of, or intends to soon begin the process of, carrying out a ritual of some kind which will bring down the Veil. With this in mind, looking back at Nick Thornborrow’s mural, the circles don’t just represent the Thedosian ‘layers of creation’ and things associated with these (the barrier of the Veil, the separation of the different worlds, black-and-gold banding [Black City/Golden City], the 7 hemispheres [7 old gods? 7 remaining Evanuris?] and so on). I think they also represent a ritual, or ritual-in-progress; they remind me of the concentric rings and similar sigils often found in old alchemical symbols (alchemy being a practise where people tried to change the nature of materials), and the concentric rings in our world which are sometimes found at places which are often held in popular culture to have been sacred ritual or ceremonial sites (2) in ancient times.

Regarding the mural, there are interpretations that the figure on the left is warding off the encroaching Dread Wolf, or rather, protecting creation - the world - from what the DW is doing. There are also interpretations that the figure is not Solas, and others. These are valid ideas, and the beauty of DA material is in the fact that it sets folk to guessing and generating several different takes on what we’re presented with. For me, given that the figure was confirmed to be bald by the artist and that it appears to have the distinctive pelt slung on its shoulder, I read it to be Solas (I do accept tho that in-game art often depicts ancient elves in general as bald). I also read the whole thing as being both aspects of Solas (Solas the person and Solas the DW) approaching creation/the Veil from both sides in a sort of ‘pincer’ movement (this is not to say that he’s “evil omg”; his designs are intended to save the People, the world that was, and/or maybe the entire world). Lastly, it’s popularly assumed ofc that the mural depicts Solas trying to take down the Veil.

This particular reading of the mural is old ground and an 0.2 I’ve posted before. I mention it because it brings me to the ritual. Post-TN I wondered about the specifics involved in his ritual, agreeing with the Mortalitasi’s summation that it will involve a lot of lyrium. Here I was struck by the spread and presence of red lyrium in the WIPs. In the mural, you have the figure with red eyes and en-haloed by a sphere of red. You also have the DW, red-eyed and with crackles of red emanating from it. The red lyrium idol is obviously present right in the middle. It’s the very center of everything, and from TN clearly the major key to Solas’ plans. In the teaser, red lyrium crackles all over the idol, but the bit that always gets me most is the part where the camera pans over the spread of red lyrium crackles up the spine of one of the figures depicted in the idol. That figure is bald, and the one being comforted by the other which has the Mythal-esque crown. If the descriptions of the idol and Solas’ supposed-reaction to it in TN are anything to go by, the idol ofc looks to be depicting Mythal, crowned, with Solas.

This is going to sound stupid, but the spine is a key structure in the human body, that encloses and protects a major component of the CNS (which controls a heck of a lot of what we do). This isn’t the first time people have worried about whether Solas is or will be affected by red lyrium. The whole thing interests me because of the nature of red lyrium (ex. veins) as revealed by Bianca; that it’s alive, since Blight only infects living things. Its spread across Thedas is kinda (fantastically) quasi-biological in nature, like cancer in an organism or mold through old food.**

Back to the ritual (all sense of structure in this post is non-existent lol), maybe the Mortalitasi’s assumption needs to be revised or made more specific. Given all the red.. mayhaps Solas’ ritual doesn’t just require lots of lyrium in addition to the use of the idol, it specifically requires lots of red lyrium..? This might make sense in light of all the red in the mural, and considering the fact that red lyrium is more potent and therefore more powerful than the normal form of the substance. Red lyrium like normal lyrium is also noted to be able to thin the Veil. It stands to reason that lots of it might be able to bring the whole thing down. Taking this back to the mural, the red crackles emanating from the DW look to be what is causing the cracks through the circles - which are representative, remember, of a ritual-in-progress as well as the Veil itself - into the inner sanctum. Is red lyrium is what’s breaking the Veil, what’s fuelling and catalyzing the ritual to bring it down? Solas! What are you doing (obviously yh he has his reasons for doing it, to save his people/restore what used to be, and potentially more). What grabs me here is that red lyrium is a double-edged sword. An idol made of red lyrium is key to his plans to bring down the Veil, but the rampant unstoppable spread of red lyrium across modern Thedas also simultaneously appears (and is widely noted by fandom to be) to be one of the serious problems facing the modern world that Solas is implied to be trying to save it from. (desperate times, desperate measures indeed)

** the spread of red lyrium and its effects on people and the land is a whole topic in and of itself

Alt take (equally plausible): the red lyrium crackles in the mural = just the destructive spread of red lyrium across the world of Thedas in general (which is a big threat to everything, including ‘creation’ itself. Solas is concerned with protecting the “sea of dreams”, for instance) and the red coloring in the figure and the DW is the effects on Solas of his using of the idol to stop this (by taking down the Veil and ‘resetting’ reality).

Alt takes on the mural (also equally plausible): It’s Solas vs the DW in that he’s conflicted and at war with himself over what he’s doing; it’s Solas vs the DW in that he’s protecting the world or the People from it or from a threat; it’s not Solas and represents someone else such as the Ink or next PC facing off against the DW; the idol represents the Black City in the center of the Fade; the idol represents the ‘center’ of the red lyrium that’s spreading across Thedas threatening everything / the Origin of the Blight itself [I don’t mean a literal center of it so much as it’s a core problem, although.. maybe that’s the beating mass of red lyrium in the WIPs?] and the mural depicts Solas protecting the world and/or the People from the threat of it; the idol doesn’t represent the physical item but rather the circumstances depicted by the idol (the couple, or the god mourning her sacrifice, or the crowned figure comforting the other - so it’s about the individuals these are, and the event commemorated by it, thus centering them in the plot of the upcoming game and showing that this interaction that transpired between them was a key moment in everything that happened before).

#dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #dragon age #bioware #tevinter nights #solas #tevinter nights spoilers #tevinter nights spoiler #spoilers #spoiler #video games #no this isnt groundbreaking but leave me to indulge in what I enjoy doing on this my DA blog #mj meta #ramblin sry

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millennialdemon · 3 years

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Coming off of true trainwrecks the likes of Mars of Destruction and Skelter Heaven, I actually came out of Dark Cat with a sense of respect and gratitude for its competence.

For the uninitiated, Dark Cat is a notoriously bad OVA from 1991 that you will see listed in many Worst Anime Ever countdowns. It follows 2 brothers, “dark cats” Hyoi and Rui, who investigate supernatural happenings and purify evil with their somewhat undefined powers of shapeshifting and increased strength/agility. The majority of the story in the OVA is about a school girl named Aimi, who is pining after her childhood friend Koizumi, who since the rejection and sudden death of his crush, has been suffering a depressive episode and ignoring her. Hyoi and Rui sense dark forces are manifesting at the school, and they keep an eye on Aimi while fighting off the increasingly brazen appearances of demonic enemies.

A monstrous ex-dark cat named Jukokubo is revealed to be manipulating Aimi with his dark powers, and Hyoi and Rui fight him, but not before Aimi succumbs to the evil magic -- as well as her own violent jealousy and overprotectiveness of Koizumi -- and transforms into a horrific tentacle monster that kills seemingly everyone in the school.

In the end, Koizumi realizes that Aimi was in love with him the entire time, and doesn’t fight her when she engulfs him completely. Apparently this act of selfless love was enough to purify them both, and although they do indeed die, their souls are “light” and able to ascend. This throws a wrench in Jukokubo’s plan to prove that humans are The Worst, so he turns tail and leaves his boss fight against Hyoi, threatening to return again. In the epilogue, Hyoi and Rui reflect on the mission and wax poetic about the nature of humanity while crossing a busy street.

… Ehm… happy ending, yes?

Now then: there are actually quite a few things I enjoyed about Dark Cat, and they are all very simple things that I had come to miss after days of watching other entries from the Bottom of the Barrel.

It had a narrative, and was -- mostly -- comprehensible in its storytelling, as rushed as it may have been. There was an undeniable presence of an art director, something I’m not convinced was present in a few of the other similarly rated titles I have seen. Some of the shots were noticeably well composed and even clever, and required an artistic vision and some decent effort to create. The animation wasn’t awful, the designs ranged from serviceable to genuinely charming (I like the subtlety of Hyoi and Rui’s cat-like features!), and I liked that the characters actually emoted. It wasn’t as generic as I expected and took some risks, even if they didn’t pay off and left it with a reputation of being “too grotesque to be enjoyable”.

I can understand the common criticisms of the gore and body horror being poorly animated, but I won’t decry it for existing and “being ugly”... of course it’s ugly, it’s body horror reminiscent of The Thing from The Thing. (Now would be a good time to warn people not to look this OVA up, unless they are sure they are okay with body horror and gore of this calibre. Tentacles with teeth and spines rip out of people’s skin from the inside and deform their hosts, it is quite awful! I would also include a warning for trypophobia -- there are shots where the mutations form clusters of holes on the skin.) The body horror in Dark Cat being disgusting and making my skin crawl isn’t a fault -- I think it’s the intended purpose. Though I will concede that:

The phallic imagery of the horrific flesh mutations, particularly that of the teacher who attacked Rui, was… bizarre, considering that otherwise the OVA isn’t particularly dark in tone or otherwise sexually graphic.

Perhaps having grotesque body horror is completely unexpected in a story about two bishounen teens (?) who can turn into cats and fight ghosts.

Yes, Dark Cat, the OVA put on Worst Anime Ever lists for being a grotesque spectacle, is just as commonly placed on those lists for being a dumb anime about guys that can transform into house cats and who fight supernatural entities with not so amazing powers. This is a gripe I’ve seen in a few popular reviews, but there was no point during my watching experience that I thought, “Man, these teens are pansies, they don’t even turn into big scary lions or anything! What’s the point, it’s practically a power-down! cinemasins ding” because I don’t go into anime expecting every single male character I see to be Big & Strong & Cool, because I uh… don’t have brain worms I guess? I don’t know what to say about this criticism really, other than people who watch a lot of shounen have very strange hang ups about super powers.

Otherwise, it seems the biggest reason Dark Cat is lauded as One of the Worst -- perhaps even ahead of the silly concept and nauseating gore -- is actually because of the abysmal english dub. It’s my honour to say that I didn’t watch the dub, so it doesn’t factor in at all into my impressions!

So in the end, perhaps my only true gripes with Dark Cat are:

Despite having no particular issue with body horror and gore existing, the extent of destruction and graphic death gave the OVA a bit of a snuff film vibe.

The conclusion to the story was quite bad.

It could be surmised by the brief plot outline I wrote earlier that Dark Cat isn’t a very complicated story. Demons and ghosts exist and wreak havoc on emotionally vulnerable humans, and supernatural soldiers try to mediate between the realms by purifying tortured ghosts and saving those dragged into darkness by evil entities. These beats are common in the supernatural genre of anime, but Dark Cat’s handling of its tragic morality tale left me more confused than anything.

Koizumi didn’t do anything wrong -- he shouldn’t have had to die for the sin of not reciprocating Aimi’s feelings, nor for developing depression after the rejection and death of his classmate and crush. Aimi… did things wrong, but was nevertheless the most compelling character in the OVA. Throughout Aimi was kind, patient, and forgiving when it came to being treated badly by Koizumi. In the finale however, it is revealed that Aimi was the one responsible for Koizumi’s crush’s death, assumedly having murdered her out of jealousy or out of revenge on Koizumi’s behalf for hurting his feelings. Prior to this, the first students to be killed by the tentacle monsters just happened to be the ones that had bullied Koizumi in class earlier that day -- implying that Aimi was getting revenge on them, as well.

It was with these revelations that I started to wonder: Why not just let the flesh monster manifest as a direct result of Aimi’s negative feelings? Aimi confessed to murdering Koizumi’s crush before the events of the OVA -- would she have done so if she wasn’t being influenced by the malignant force set on her by Jukokubo? I feel that her arc would have been much more interesting without the introduction of a non-compelling and badly designed villain like Jukokubo, because then we would know it was all her. Even if she was influenced by forces exacerbating her pre-existing jealousy and rage, that is a more satisfying option than having a big dumb green cat of a villain to trace everything back to so neatly.

And really, what did Jukokubo do in the story beyond take the spotlight, and the blame, from Aimi? He had some previous relation to Hyoi and Rui, but it’s not developed at all, and his ideological rivalry with Hyoi was trivial. Hyoi could have come to the same conclusions about holding out hope for humanity without Jukokubo there to insist he be a guest to debate on his political podcast.

The lack of accountability regarding Aimi is a part of why the resolution to her conflict with Koizumi feels so wrong -- he succumbs to her feelings because he realizes the evil was born from her suffering, and he feels that he has to sacrifice himself to make up for unknowingly hurting her so much that she turned into a monster from hell. In the end she is absolved via being purified and getting to die with her spirit entwined with Koizumi’s, and he apologizes for having not recognized how he was hurting her.

Aimi kills his crush, kills his bullies, and ends up -- inadvertently, at least -- killing almost all of their classmates, because she was tilted about her childhood friend not realizing she had romantic feelings for him. And when Koizumi learns all of this, he apologizes and dies with her, and this is proof of humanity’s goodness? The dark clouds part and the rain stops and Aimi and Koizumi ascend in a heavenly ray of light, because he decided, while she was devouring him, that he was wrong to ignore his murderous best friend’s love for him?

I guess it’s fine -- it was probably mostly Jukokubo’s fault anyway, and everyone was just an unfortunate victim of his meddling… 😒

Other than the bad writing, the string of deaths that happen in the finale when the monster lets loose in the school are quite uncomfortable to behold. Deformed student bodies are splayed and strewn around classrooms, and the bullies are rendered into unrecognizable mounds of pulsating flesh in their homes. The violence of a fight against a monster like this, I can handle, but the graphic images of helpless death were difficult to stomach. And in this OVA, there is no miraculous reversal of the demon’s damage once it is purified -- there is no implication whatsoever that everyone who died isn’t still just as dead as Aimi and Koizumi in the end.

The main thing I was actually worried about when I watched Dark Cat was that there would be sexual assault, thanks to reviewers griping it for “generic hentai tentacles”. I am relieved to say that there is none, at least not insofar as deserving a comparison to actual porn. There is sexual content scattered throughout the horror scenes: The occasionally phallic appearance of the tentacles, shots of the tentacles coming down from under skirts, and there is one shot of nudity when Aimi’s shirt is ripped open as she transforms, though I would say it’s too horrific and ugly to be sexualized or otherwise considered “fanservice”.

What is the point of the hits of sex imagery in Dark Cat? I have no idea. This isn’t Alien, it isn’t about the horror of sexual assault or the violence of creation -- though the main horror of the scene where Rui is ambushed by the teacher seems to be that she uses magic to seduce him, only to reveal a very phallic tentacle from her mouth that she means to kill (or infect…?) him with, which can have multiple, potentially offensive readings… it is a one off, however -- and there doesn’t seem to be any moral posturing about it as is often seen in slashers. I couldn’t parse any sort of consistent STI allegory regarding the plague of tentacles upon the student body, despite how many summaries I have read that describe the tentacles as that, a “plague”.

… I realize I am probably the only person on earth to give any aspect of Dark Cat’s production this much thought. To sum up: It seems to just exist for the shock value. Considering the extent of disgusting imagery already present a la The Gore and Deformation of Human Bodies, I don’t think this OVA benefitted from featuring some explicit looking tendrils, beyond cementing its abhorrent reputation.

Is this all to say that I think Dark Cat is a good OVA? No, of course not. It’s tone deaf, and tasteless, and has awkward pacing and bad writing. But compared to the utterly soulless and artistically devoid works the likes of Skelter Heaven and Mars of Destruction, I would say the fact I was able to write this much about Dark Cat is testament to that fact that it at the very least, contains content -- and some of that content was like, decent! Skelter+Heaven was such a mess it was all I could do to understand the sequence of events, and Mars of Destruction was so bland I literally have no posts about it on the blog despite watching it more than once. Psychic Wars was a snoozefest I barely finished that similarly has no mention on the blog, and Hanoka’s production gimmick couldn’t save it from being a totally forgettable romance story.

Therefore, Dark Cat is the best worst title I have seen thus far, by virtue of being executed with an average amount of competency for an OVA from the early 90s, and for having a balance of good and bad elements that gave me something to hold onto and mull over after viewing.

3/10.

Oh, and I loved the bad 80s insert songs.

#:Dark Cat #dark cat #2138 words later the verdict is. It was ok

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