#sometimes i care about marvel when they make stuff that isn’t just about white dudes

[elliesgaymachete]

All the articles talking about how the marvels had the lowest box office opening of any marvel movie conveniently forget to mention that it’s the ONLY marvel movie to come out in the midst of an actors strike and didn’t get any of the press that all the other movies would have gotten 🙃

#before anyone yells at me i know the strike ended like the day it came out but press typically happens in the weeks BEFORE the release #anyway #sometimes i care about marvel when they make stuff that isn’t just about white dudes #kamala may honestly be my favorite mcu character #bc mcu ruined america chavez 😔 #the marvels

[queenbirbs]

the open door | Ethan x MC

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC

Warnings: swearing, some brief mentions of corpses and body horror, spooks and possible spectres 

Word count: 7.7k

Premise: Bryce invites Sloane, Sienna, and Aurora on a tour of a haunted estate on the night before Halloween. What could go wrong?  

Notes: I’m super bummed that we didn’t get a Halloween-themed chapter for this book, especially since it’s my favorite holiday. Takes place post chapter 11, though I’ve played with the timeline a bit to include Halloween. Re-post because it fell out of the tag, as posts seem to want to do as of late. 

Taglist: @maurine07 @caseyvalentineramsey

 ------

“You are aware there’s no such thing as witches, right?” 

“Well, yeah,” Bryce scoffs. “Maybe. Besides, I said she was rumored to be a witch. That’s a whole different thing.”

“Oh, right, of course it is.” In the backseat, Aurora rolls her eyes. “Just tell that to all the people killed during the Salem witch trials due to mass hysteria.”

“Hey, now -- it’s not like she was killed for being a witch.”

“Right. She pulled a classic Rose for Emily,” Sloane mutters while Sienna makes a gagging noise.

“What?” Bryce asks. 

“It’s a short story by Faulkner.”

“Oh.” There’s a brief pause. Sloane wonders if he even knows who that is. Then: “Is he the dude that had a hard-on for the Civil War?”

“Yeah,” Aurora snorts. “Basically.” 

“Yeah, never read any of his stuff. I think I used SparkNotes for one of his books in undergrad.”

“Same,” Sloane admits, to which Bryce shoots her a look of faux-surprise. “Yeah, yeah, we all had to skate by sometimes.” 

“Well, well, well,” he crows. “Looks like the ‘next generation of medicine’ isn’t so high and mighty after all, huh?” 

“Wait, how did you--”

“Ramsey was four drinks deep at Donahue’s the other day, and one of the interns came up and bothered him about a possible spot on the team. Which meant we all overheard the twenty-minute spiel about what a great doctor you are.” He snickers as she puts a hand over her face and groans. “Yeah, it was real sweet. Real obvious, but sweet.”

She’s saved by the GPS on her phone, cutting through the music playing over the car speakers; Bryce takes the next exit as instructed. The off-ramp spits them out onto a two-lane county road.  Posted across from the solitary stop sign, the blue services sign offers nothing but blank, white squares. 

“There’s a bathroom, right?” Sienna asks. “Because I’m not seeing a gas station.”

“It’s a house, you guys,” Bryce scoffs, “not a cave.” 

“A haunted house,” she clarifies. 

“Well, I mean, I don’t think the toilets are haunted.”

For several miles, there’s nothing but sweeping woodlands and the occasional passing car. Long squiggles of tar decorate the asphalt, snaking across the empty, leaf-strewn road. The setting sun casts a golden hue over everything, spears of light cutting through the tree trunks. It would be a nice, evening drive if it weren’t for where they were headed. 

Forty minutes north of Boston lies the small, nondescript town of Angler. Even under the cover of dusk, Sloane can tell that it’s one of those towns. Pretty Tudors line the main street, their porches decorated with smiling scarecrows sitting on bales of hay; banners along the telephone poles advertise the annual apple festival. The bank and the post office and the dry cleaners are all tucked together in the refurbished general store. It’s the stereotypical, pleasant, all-American town. Which means that it’s the perfect place to hide a dark stain of history. 

Why Bryce signed up for such a thing and how he won the tickets is beyond her. When he asked them all to join him for a haunted house, Sloane expected the typical theme: some dingy warehouse refurbished enough to meet modern building codes, full of tight mazes and masked actors with chainsaws.

“Nah, guys, this is the real deal,” he gloated over lunch the previous afternoon. “Back in the 1800s, this woman -- uhh Margaret, or Maggie, I think, yeah Maggie Angler -- she was one of the Boston Brahmins, owned this estate out in the country, blah blah blah. No one knows a whole lot about her because she was a little weird and she kept to herself. At some point, this dude woos her and they get married. But then, a few years later, he dies. Neighbors drop by to offer casseroles or whatever, but she won’t answer the door, so they give up and leave her alone. A few months go by, and suddenly this dude from town goes missing. Then a year, and another goes missing. This continues for several years and--” 

“So, what, she’s some kind of black widow?” Elijah asked. 

“No, this isn’t one of those Marvel--” Bryce’s brow furrowed and then lifted, realization striking his handsome face. “--oh, heh, yeah, sorry. But yeah, sort of. It wasn’t until word got around that the latest dude was seen talking to Maggie at the store that people got suspicious of her. So, they gather up some people and storm the house, where they find a Satanic Bible and other spooky shit. But that’s not the only thing they find.”

They all glance around at each other, waiting to see who will encourage Bryce to break his silence and finish the damn story. “They also find... the missing dudes.”

“What, buried in the backyard?” Sloane asked, and frowned when Bryce shook his head. 

“No, not buried. She killed them and then kept them in the house. Supposedly, they were posed at the table or sitting on the couch, rotting away.”

 Sienna made a show of pushing her plate away. “That’s disgusting.”

“I know there’s a group of people in Indonesia that keep their dead relatives at home,” Aurora said, “but they’re preserved and cared for. This doesn’t sound like that.”

“Nope.” Elijah shook his head. “Definitely not the same thing.”

“What happened to the woman?” Sloane asked.

“No idea -- get this: they never found her.” Bryce lifted his eyebrows for dramatic effect. “But the story goes that she still haunts the place, searching for her lost lovers, and maybe… trying to get some new ones.”  

Jackie, who had been busy scrolling away on her phone through the tale, snorted into her salad. 

“And you want us to come with you to some evil witch’s house on the night before Halloween to go ghost hunting? I may not believe in any of this shit, but no fucking way.” 

“Yeah,” Elijah sighed, cringing at the crestfallen look on Bryce’s face. “Sorry dude, but I’ll pass. My idea of fun is a John Carpenter movie marathon, not a tour around Jane the Ripper’s house.” 

“Okay, understood.” With that, Bryce looked to the remaining three and turned on the charm, draping his arm across Sloane’s shoulders. “C’mon, ladies, whaddaya say? Hard to pass up the prospect of touring a bona fide haunted mansion with one of the most handsome men you know -- second only to Elijah here.”  

Tapping at her chin, Sienna nodded and grinned. “Sounds fun. I like scary things.” 

Aurora, on the other hand, shot him a skeptical look. “Are you going to shout at the air and act like you’re possessed, like I’ve seen that one ghost hunter do on TV? The one with the spiky hair?” she demanded to know. 

“Uhhh no to all of those things, but especially to the spiky hair.”  

“Okay, then,” she shrugged, “I’ll go.” 

Every eye at the table turned to Sloane; Bryce squeezed her shoulder in encouragement. 

“Alright,” she agreed. “It’d be fun to get spooked, I guess. I’m down.”

Which is how she comes to be in the passenger seat of Bryce’s car, leaning forward onto the dashboard as they take the final turn onto a hidden lane. A thick tunnel of trees swallows them up as they drive deeper into the woods. After several miles, there’s a break in the pines, and then: sprawled atop a hill, looming above them, is the house. Even if she hadn’t heard the backstory, Sloane feels like the place would still give her the creeps. With its filmy lace curtains and its tall windows glowing yellow in the approaching darkness, the house looks like it’s been pulled from an Edward Hopper painting. Worn pavers lead from the semi-circular driveway and up to the front porch. Framing either side of the steps, thin, brittle blades of tufted hairgrass shift in the wind. Two people turn from the front door and raise a hand in greeting.

Bryce kills the engine and twists around in his seat to grin at his compatriots. 

“You guys ready to get scaaaared?”

Sienna wraps her hands around Sloane’s seat and leans forward, her eyes wide as she stares out the windshield. 

“Why does it look like The Amityville Horror house?” 

“Is this a bad time to mention that the Blair Witch Project’s producers used this place as inspiration?”

“Yeah,” she hisses, “definitely a bad time.”

Shouldering open her door, Sloane lets in the cool October air in an attempt to corral their attention. It works; the rest of them pile out of the car with her and approach the couple. 

As the current owners of the property, Jack and Nancy Bell guide them through the main floor of the house, pointing out spots of reported activity. The interior is lovely -- one of those Sloane would see in a Pictagram post of a wedding venue, with all those carved banisters and original wainscoting. Her brother, a successful carpenter in the Twin Cities, would have a field day in here. Most of the furniture is original to the house, as well, and in surprisingly good condition.  

The only aspect setting the house apart from any other on the historical registry are the props. In the front hall, a bulletin board hosts an array of newspaper clippings. The earlier articles blame a serial killer, dubbed the ‘Butcher of Angler,’ for the mens’ disappearances. Then, starting on October 28th, 1892, the headlines change to the ‘Wicked Witch of Winthrope County.’ In the drawing room sits an Ouija board, surrounded by melted candles. A cauldron and a Satanic Bible share space on the kitchen counter; corked bottles of what look like cooking spices and herbs clutter the open cabinets. Mannequins lounge at the dining table or on the sofa, dressed in dusty clothes, their jaws slack, their painted eyes still and dull. Beside them, framed in cheap plastic, are the grainy photographs of the corpses as they were found. To Sloane, it all feels hokey, like a regular haunted house with the strobe lights turned off. 

There’s something else, though, something underneath the fine layer of dust and the creaking floorboards and the shrouded furniture. It skitters across her neck and down her back, making her shiver, which she discounts as a wayward draft in the old house. 

It’s the distinct feeling of being watched.  

“Aside from the big house, there’s a carriage house to the left there. We rent it out in the summer and fall for overnight stays.” Jack gestures to the east as they step out onto the back veranda, where, just beyond the slope of lawn, a smaller house sits with a solitary porch light glowing. “And back down the path there will lead you to the lake. When we bought the place, the deed stated that there was a cabin out near the state park line, but we’ve never been able to find evidence of it.”

“Maggie’s been seen down by the lake, too,” Nancy chimes in. “People say they see her there, inside the boathouse, or walking along the shore with her head down, as if she’s searching for something.” 

“We’ve got lanterns here if you want to use them as you go about the grounds, though you’re welcome to use your flashlights.” Jack nudges a neat row of antique lanterns with his sneaker. “For the optimal experience, though, we recommend turning off all the inside lights and using secondary light sources instead.” He chuckles when Sienna makes a throaty noise of dissent. 

The couple leads them back through the house and into the front hall to finish the tour. While Jack goes over the various rules, Nancy motions for Sloane to follow her out onto the front porch. 

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of your friends,” she starts off in a whisper, “but I wanted to talk to you about our son, Ben.”

For a fleeting moment, Sloane thinks that she’s going to get questioned about his bowel movements or a mysterious rash, that Bryce must have told them he was bringing along his doctor friends. “When he was seven, he nearly--” Nancy cuts herself off, pressing a hand to her heart, “--he drowned when we were at the beach in Florida. I did CPR until the EMTs got there, and they were able to resuscitate him, thank God.”

“I’m sorry,” Sloane murmurs, “that must’ve been awful.”

“It was. But I’m -- the reason I’m telling you all this is because, after that, Ben seems to be more… open. More open than the rest of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Sloane says again, though this time out of confusion, “but I don’t--”

With a huff, Nancy shakes her head and waves her hands. “No, no, I apologize. I must sound crazy. I just wanted to warn you that, due to what happened to you, you might see things or experience things that your friends can’t. That’s all, dear.” 

Sloane opens her mouth to question her further, but they’re interrupted by the rest of the gang filing out beside them. “We’ll be back at one a.m. to lock up behind you,” Nancy says as she follows her husband down to their car. 

With a cheery honk, the little Subaru rumbles down the winding driveway and disappears. The sun having set during the tour, the landscape before them is now draped with the heavy blanket of night. The moon peeks at them from just above the treetops, as if still deciding on whether or not to come out. The only lights are far-off, unmoving: porch lights of the houses back in town; cell towers with their red stars blinking lazily against the dark. A cold wind moves through the trees, rustling the leaves and scattering them across the front walk, the dried edges hissing along the brick. 

“Can you believe he said no alcohol?” Bryce breaks the silence with a whine. “I read about this fun séance thing you do with tequila shots and--” 

“No séances!” Sienna declares. “And definitely no tequila!” 

“Can we argue about this where it’s warmer?” Aurora suggests and steps back into the house. 

As she and Sienna wander off into the drawing room, Sloane wraps a hand around Bryce’s arm and pulls him back. 

“Did you tell her about me?”

His nose scrunches up to meet his furrowed brows. “Tell who about what?” 

“The-- Nancy, did you tell her about what happened to me? With… with the senator, and…” it’s embarrassing how much of a struggle it is to get the words out, even now, even after three weeks and two therapy appointments. 

His face falls from confusion to concern. Bryce reaches up and lays his hand over her own. 

“Slo, I didn’t tell them, I swear. I would never,” he promises. “Did she say something to you?”      

She loosens her hold, frustrated at herself that she even considered he would do such a thing. He’s one of her best friends, the man who handed over the reins to a cutting-edge surgery just to be by her side. 

“Yeah, no, listen: it’s fine,” she stumbles through a paltry reassurance. “She was probably trying to scare me, that’s all.” 

He gives her a quick once-over, lips twisting into a frown as he debates on whether or not to push. She bites back a breath of relief when he relents, his hand releasing hers.

“Okay,” he says, and nudges her into the house ahead of him. “C’mon. Between the two of us, I think we can convince them to turn off the lights.”

------

Although he puts up a good fight, Bryce loses on the no-lights front. 

Which is just as well, because by the time they reach the second floor, Sloane is glad for the light from the antique lamps. To be fair, nothing actually happens: no spooks, no spectres, and no signs from the former resident. Nothing she can point to with any amount of certainty. Whatever it is hovers out of reach, just on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t seem to give it a name. Maybe it lies -- like any good, scary movie -- in the setting. For as grand as the house is, time and dereliction have taken its fine features hostage. Thick, gray dust coats the wooden spindles and curled handrails of the antique staircase. The corridors are tight, the shadows gathering in the space where the lights can’t seem to reach. Small curls of peeling wallpaper look like fingers reaching out from the wall, backlit by the sconces. The cloying scent of wood rot and mold fills the air, like a pile of papers left to curl and yellow with age. The rooms are small, cluttered with furniture and trinkets and artwork. 

Sloane stares at such a portrait in the master bedroom, where a couple stares down at her from above the fireplace. The man sits in a chair, the woman standing beside him with her hand on his shoulder. It would be any other family portrait, if it weren’t for the unsettling glaze over the man’s sunken eyes. 

“Bryce, please don’t-- aaaand he’s sitting on the bed.” 

“You do know that’s where they found her husband, right?” Sienna points out. “That’s why there’s a mannequin on it. And a picture of his dead body on the nightstand.”

“Maybe Maggie will see what a catch I am if I’m laid out for her. I’ve never met a woman over the age of sixty who could resist my charms.” Bryce waggles his eyebrows as he bounces once, then twice on the mattress before stretching out. “What’s up, bro?” he asks the mannequin beside him before doing a double-take. “Hey, it’s Annie!”

He snatches off the ugly wig and fake beard, and lo and behold, an old CPR dummy gapes up at them all. Sloane snorts and shakes her head. 

“Looks like the years haven’t been kind to her.”   

“Probably saddled with student loans just like the rest of us,” Aurora mutters as she wanders over to inspect the photograph. “Had to get a second job here.”

“Hey, that was a joke!” Bryce commends. “And a pretty good one at that.”

“I do jokes.”

“You so do not.” 

A muffled bang from somewhere in the house stops their banter. Everyone glances at each other, verifying that everyone in their group is indeed in the room. 

“What was that?” Sienna whispers. 

“Probably the pipes,” Aurora says. “It is an old house.” 

As if on cue, the lights flicker once, then switch off, sinking them into complete darkness. There’s a flurry of noise as everyone digs out their phones; the bedroom seems even creepier, now, under the white glow of their flashlights.  

“What do we do?” Sienna hisses, scurrying from the window to latch onto Aurora.  

“We could always search for the breaker,” she suggests. 

“Which would be where?”

“In the basement, most likely.”

“Um, no,” Sienna balks. “Hell no.”  

“Are you guys serious right now?” Bryce hops down from the bed and pokes his head out the open doorway. “This is so cool! Who wants to go downstairs with me and grab the Ouija board?”

“If you bring that thing near me, I will break it in half.”

He grimaces at Sienna’s threat. 

“You’re not really supposed to do that with them. It’ll keep the door open for the spirits to come in.”

“It’s a toy made by Hasbro,” Aurora scoffs. “It’s not going to ‘let in’ anything. And the planchette doesn’t actually move on its own. That’s due to the ideomotor effect.”

Moving over to the window, Sloane presses her temple against the pane’s edge and squints. Just past the eastern wing, she spots a faint halo of yellow light on the lawn. 

“Hey,” she raises her voice over their bickering. “It looks like the carriage house still has power.” 

“Great!” Sienna squeaks and pulls Aurora with her towards the door. “Let’s check it out. I… love carriage houses.” 

They push past Bryce and start back down the hall. Turning from the doorway, a coy smile spreads across his face, a single eyebrow lifting at his wordless request. 

“Oh, no.” Sloane shakes her head as she crosses the room. “I’m not staying up here so you can play Twenty Questions with a ghost.”

She ignores his good-natured grumbling and leads him to the staircase, where Aurora and Sienna are waiting on the landing. Aimed at the ground, their flashlights slice at the hand-carved walls; dustmotes dance in the twin beams, kicked up by their feet. The air feels heavier, mustier here, too, like breathing through wet wool. They tromp down the stairs and across the first floor to the kitchen. Being at the back of the group, Sloane can’t help but glance back now and again at the shadowed recesses, searching for the source of her uneasiness. That she finds nothing amiss doesn’t seem to curb her anxiety. 

The sensation wanes when she closes the door behind them, sealing up the house once more. 

“How is it warmer outside than in there?” Sienna asks as they start cutting across the lawn for the carriage house.  

Bryce zips up his coat and shrugs. “I’ve heard that ghosts tend to suck the energy out of a room, creating cold spots when they mani--”

“Please stop talking,” she begs. “At least until we’re somewhere with electricity that actually works.” 

“Aw, come on, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve seen enough scary movies in your life to know that we’re safe if we travel together. Besides, everyone knows the funny guy goes first.”  

“I think that honor belongs to people of color, now, sorry.” Aurora chuckles when he spins around to wince at her. 

“Yeah, fair point.” 

Coated in fallen leaves, the ground crunches loud underneath their shoes, blocking out the night sounds as the four of them approach the smaller house. “But for real, I don’t think we have much to worry about from Maggie here. I mean, almost all ghost stories are about little white girls from Victorian times named Sally or Sarah or Kate.”

“That’s because of the spiritualism boom in the late nineteenth century,” Aurora answers.

Bryce sighs and quickly changes the subject, uninterested in a history lesson. 

Converted into a proper guest house sometime after the turn of the twentieth century, the carriage house lacks the severe decay of the main house. Though not as grand, the wallpaper here is intact, the dust not as heavy. It might just be the comforts of amenities such as central heating and electricity, but the inside of the house feels much more benign. As they complete a loop around the building, though, Sloane realizes that the feeling of being watched still remains, growing stronger when she passes or glances out one of the windows. With the glare of the lights, though, it’s hard to see much of anything past the panes. None of the others seem to be frightened -- or if they do, they keep quiet. The same can’t be said when Sienna flips the light on in the parlor.  

Toddler-size dolls lean against the walls, their porcelain hands cupped around their faces. Each wears a pretty, pastel dress trimmed in white lace, their hair falling down their backs in long, springy ringlets of dark brown, cherry red, and honey gold. Bryce makes a noise of disgust when he spins one around, its face blank: no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Time-out dolls, Sloane tells them, remembering her grandmother’s friend who owned several back in the early nineties -- though hers were all dressed as clowns. 

“People actually rent this place out? They pay money to stay here?” Sienna shudders. “I’d rather sleep in the other house, even with all the cobwebs and mannequins.”

“And the ghosts,” Bryce adds. 

“Ghosts don’t exist,” Aurora says. 

“Okay, Scully, that’s enough out of you.”

------

As the clock ticks closer to ten, Bryce votes to go check out the lake. Aurora and Sienna, however, vote to stay in the warm, well-lit kitchen. The plan is decided to split up and then meet back at the main house in time for midnight. 

“You know,” Bryce explains as he and Sloane make their way across the lawn, “because it’s the witching hour.”

“I thought it was three a.m.” 

“It is if you’re taking into account REM cycles and all that, but I’m not. All the legends I’ve read say…” he trails off, frowning as he jogs up the main house’s back steps. “Hey, you shut the door when we left, right?”

Her phone’s flashlight sweeps up the French doors; one of them is ajar, standing open several inches. She reaches for the handle and shuts it, listening for the snick of the latch.  

“I guess I didn’t pull it closed enough.”   

“Or,” he taunts as he grabs two of the lanterns from the porch, “something else opened it.” Ignoring her scoff, he pockets his phone and hands one of the lanterns to her. “These are nice. Do you think they’re original?”

“Bryce, they bought these from a Cracker Barrel. And besides, they’re battery-powered.” 

“Oh.” 

The back of the estate has been left to run wild. Overgrown swath rolls along the ground like dunes, snagging dead leaves between the dry blades. Thickets of barren shrubs creep out from the distant tree line. The path to the lake is marked by an old fence post, tied with a tattered ribbon. They make their way across the wide expanse of lawn, the trees ahead towering higher and higher the closer they get to the forest. Sloane can’t help but check over her shoulder. The house is just as they left it, though the moonlight is too weak to see if the door is still closed. 

Gravel crunches under their feet as they step onto the trail. The quiet night is broken by a ding from her phone. 

How goes the ghost hunting? 

She hooks the lantern in the crook of her arm and taps out her reply: Fun so far, lights went off by themselves. Very spooky 10/10

Ethan: What do fractions have to do with what you’re doing?

Sloane: Nvm 

Ethan: This isn’t 2002. You do have a full keyboard under your fingertips. 

Sloane: so?

Ethan: So there’s no excuse for using T9 acronyms.       

Sloane: Never thought I’d see the day you reprimand me for texting 

Ethan: I’ll spare you the lecture and let you get back to your witch hunt. Text me when you get home, please, so I know you returned safely. 

She hits send on the next message. Several seconds later, a red bubble appears beside her will do!, informing her that it refused to send. A quick glance at the top of the screen shows the one measly bar of service her phone is clinging onto. With a sigh, she tucks it away.   

“How’s Dr. Ramsey?” Bryce asks.

“Preparing a TEDtalk on prehistoric cell phone etiquette.” 

His nose scrunches up. “What?”

“Nothing,” she chuckles, exhaling through her mouth just to see her foggy breath. 

The light from the lanterns casts an eerie, yellow glow across the tree trunks and underbrush. Creaks and knocks echo up out of the dark -- branches smacking against each other as a cold wind sweeps through the area. The last vestiges of October skitter along the ground; the leaves almost sound like footsteps, dragging across the dirt behind them. The trail tightens as it winds down a small embankment and into a hollow. Their pace seems to pick up, though neither of them mention it. Sloane burrows into her scarf at the sudden dip in temperature.   

“How’s Keiki?” she asks, more so out of need to make conversation than actual curiosity.  

“Probably eating her way into a food coma with the pizza money I left for her, and beating all my high scores on Need for Speed.” He’s grinning as he says it, though, which Sloane finds encouraging. “I invited her to go with us, but she said no.” 

She doesn’t miss the crestfallen expression that crosses his face for a moment. 

“Trust me when I say this, because I speak from the experience of having a younger sibling, but she didn’t say no because she doesn’t like you or anything. It’s because she thinks you and your friends are dorks.” 

He sputters at the insult. “I’m not a dork!”

“You so totally are.”  

“Am not.” 

“Are too!” she argues. “Ethan thinks I’m bad, but you -- you come in on your days off and you like it.”

“That’s called dedication to the craft.” 

“That’s called being a dork.” 

What little she can see of the path ahead is more winding turns, more endless seas of bark and brushwood. But just when she thinks that they’ll never reach the end, that they’ll wind up stumbling upon Elly Kedward’s house -- there’s a small dot of light and then a break in the trees, where the path spits them out onto a rocky shore. The lake glints under their lanterns, the pearlescent gleam of the moon dancing on its surface. 

“Oh, hey, that was nice of them.”

Sloane’s gaze tracks along the shore and over to where he’s gestured. A solitary lantern sits in front of an old boathouse, illuminating the weathered cedar shake.  

“Too bad they can’t install lights along the path,” she mutters as they make their way to the structure. 

“What part of ‘bona fide haunted mansion’ did you not understand? This is the thrill of it!” 

Bryce shoulders open the door to a dim room with a half-sunken rowboat in the center. 

“Thrilling,” she drones, side-stepping his attempt to whack her arm. “Right.” 

They poke through the dirty raincoats and rusted tackle boxes. The wooden planks under their feet jostle and flex. Everything smells of wet and mold, the walls slick with grime. “I can think of several better places to haunt.” 

Bryce hums his agreement as he prods at a stack of old hunting magazines, the pages sealed together. Sloane steps over to look down at the boat, where minnows dart underneath the oars to escape her light. 

“Watch where you step,” she tells him as she crosses to the starboard side. “Some of these boards are really falling apa--”

The rest is lost to her shriek as the floor underneath her snaps. Her foot goes through the wood. She drops the lantern and scrambles to stay upright. The soggy planks slip from her grasp as she falls backwards, and then: water, the icy rush of it closing over her head. 

She fights back a gasp at the sudden cold. With her knee trapped in the joists, she can’t get her feet under her to kick to the surface. Her hands sweep out, flailing desperately. Something hard slams against her neck. She twists at the waist; the sunken lantern illuminates the long shadow of the boat. She digs her fingers into the wood. The cold saps at what strength she has, her muscles refusing to work as she tries to push herself out of the water. Her lungs ache; her heartbeat thuds inside her skull. Down in the murky depths below, a long shadow reaches towards her. Fingers, then hands seize her waist; her skin hits the cold air. Sloane blinks away the muddy haze that coats her eyes and sucks in a lungful of blessed oxygen. 

“Sloane!” Bryce shouts, as if he was expecting to pull out someone else. He ropes an arm around her back and helps her up out of the water. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of--” the rest of his words are lost to an undignified oof as Sloane wraps her arms around his neck. 

“Thanks.”

His hands come up to rest along her back, gently rubbing there to warm her frozen skin.

“I would say don’t mention it, but please do. The notoriety of me saving your life needs to make its way back to the hospital, so Rahul will finally go on a date with me.” 

She fights the urge to roll her eyes. 

“You would be concerned about getting a leg over while mine is still stuck.”

“Oh, whoops. Sorry, here, I’ll...” Sitting back on his heels, he steadies her against him and helps her shimmy out of the hole she’s made. Despite how saturated the planks are, her jeans are torn along her knee, where blood wells across several scratches. “Ouch,” he hisses. 

“Nothing a few bandages and a tetanus shot won’t fix,” she assures. Wobbling as she stands, Sloane limps over to the storage chest in the corner. The blanket she finds is tattered and smells of mold, but it’s better than braving the night’s chill in just her soaked sweater. “Alright, I want out of this place like yesterday.”

Bryce picks up his lantern and nods, following her out onto the shore and back onto the path. 

------

“And, I don’t know, he’s also distant with me sometimes, ya know? He’s hot, then he’s cold. He’ll flirt with me and agree to a date, but then he bails at the last second.”

“I get you.”

“That’s why I’m coming to you, oh wise one,” Bryce says with a grin. “Teach me your ways of dealing with difficult guys.”

Sloane laughs, the sound echoing through the quiet forest. Tucking the blanket tighter around her shoulders, she shakes her head. 

“Trust me, if I knew how to, I wouldn’t have such problems with my own.”

The cell phone in her pocket burns at the reminder of Ethan -- not that she could contact him if she wanted, given that the freezing water had zapped the last of its battery. 

“Yeah, but you could at least give me some pointers on how to wear him down.”

“Oh, my god, Bryce--”

“Okay, okay, not… ‘wear him down’... more, like, encouraging than that, I guess....” he trails off with a shrug. 

Humming as she thinks over her plan of attack, Sloane slows her pace to drop behind Bryce to skirt around a fallen tree -- until she can see it no more. “Fuck!” Bryce curses from in front of her, rattling the lantern as if abuse will bring it back to life. “Batteries must be dead. Let me…” There’s a rustling of clothes, a brief, hopeful inhale, then: “Fuck. Phone’s dead too. Must be the cold or something.” 

Sloane closes her eyes and opens them again, hoping that they will have miraculously adjusted to the dark -- but no such luck. With what little moonlight seeps through the canopy and the dusting of fog that’s rolled in, it’s hard to see farther than a few feet ahead. It will make this slow-going trek of theirs even slower. She scans the woods surrounding them and stops when she sees a pinprick of light back down the trail.

“I have an idea,” she says, “but you’re not going to like it.”

He does not, in fact, like her idea. But even he can’t argue against it. Besides, they’d only made it about a half-mile up the path, and the boathouse wasn’t that far back. 

Which is how Sloane comes to be sitting on the log, trying her best to ignore the darkness pressing in on her from all sides. If Aurora were here, she would be explaining that being afraid of the dark is just a concept carried over from early hominid days. Then again, if Aurora were here, she wouldn’t have had to send Bryce back for the other lantern, and they’d be back at the house by now. Sloane knows she should keep moving to stay warm, but she’s cold and wet and her knee is throbbing something awful. 

She’s uncertain of how much time passes before that silly bundle of nerves in her stomach morphs into the proper weight of worry. Bryce should be back by now. She knows he made it to the boathouse because the light through the trees is gone now. Her eyes have since adjusted to the night, which means it’s been at least thirty minutes. Maybe that lantern died, too, she reasons. Sloane listens for his familiar cursing, or his footsteps on the path -- but there’s nothing. The nighttime noises of the forest are gone: no animals, no birds, no wind. The stillness is nothing short of eerie, especially when she feels that now-familiar sensation of being watched.   

“Bryce?” she chances. 

From out of the black, she can hear someone walking down the path.  

“Bryce!” she shouts, struggling to her feet. “Sienna? Aurora? Is that you?” 

Whoever it is doesn’t respond. She starts down the trail towards them, cursing when she nearly trips over a rock. “Seriously, guys, I’m not in the mood--”

An awful sound echoes out of the dark, like a high-pitched whistle played over radio static. 

She freezes, pebbles and twigs skidding across the dirt at her sudden halt. Every hair on her body stands on-end, her muscles locked as adrenaline races through her. Sloane swallows and clenches her blanket tighter.  

The high-low tone of the whistle sounds again. Whatever’s out there is just beyond the reach of her vision. Sloane wheels around, her gaze darting across the shadows, as if she’ll be able to even see-- a light. It’s several hundred feet out in the forest, back in the direction of the house. It’s too far away to make out who’s holding it. It has to be Bryce, though -- playing a prank on her, as if she’d find this sort of thing funny in the state she’s in. 

She bites back a curse and hurries after him as best she can, keeping low to the ground in an effort to hide from whatever animal is out here with them. The trail becomes rougher, more overgrown as she trudges through the leaves and shoves away sticker bushes. Forced to waste precious time watching where she’s going, she glances up only to keep track of the light that grows closer every second. 

The whistle comes again -- louder, closer now. Whatever it is, it’s still following her. Sloane pushes through a thicket and stumbles into a clearing. Tucked between a small grove of pines in the center is a cabin. With the caved-in roof, sagging porch, and front steps that form nothing more than a woodpile, it’s obvious the place has long stood abandoned. Sitting on the porch and casting a glow into the open doorway is a lantern -- the same make as the others. Approaching the steps, she slowly leans up and snatches the lantern from the porch.  

“No fucking way,” she mutters to herself. “I don’t care if it is a bobcat out here, I’m not hiding in the Evil-Dead-looking-ass cabin.” 

The dark silhouettes of the trees rustle under the cold wind that blows through the glade. Carried with it is a different sound: voices, all slurred together, but forming one syllable. She steps away from the cabin and back towards the forest, straining to make it out. Her name, she realizes with relief. They’re calling her name.        

She sucks in a breath to yell back when movement catches her eye. Something dark curls away from the tree line, only to dart into the tall grass when she swings the lantern in its direction. Sloane squints at the underbrush it disappeared into, waiting for it to appear again. For a few, blessed moments, she thinks it’s run off, that it’s finally given up.   

Until a black shadow crawls out of the underbrush towards her, shrieking, braying like an animal in pain. It’s an ear-splitting cry, echoing across the clearing. Sloane tightens her grip on the lantern and bolts. Ducking back into the trees, she heads in a single direction, knowing that she’ll either hit the lake or the house -- of, if she runs far enough, the town. 

Shoving through low-hanging branches, she glances over her shoulder to see the shadow chasing her, peeling itself out of the shadows as it moves between the trees, somehow darker than the black surrounding them. Her foot hits a patch of wet leaves and she slips, skidding down the hillside and tumbling out onto a stretch of asphalt. She grits her teeth against the pain in her leg and crawls forward into the middle of the road. With no time for hesitating, she pushes to her feet and runs, hoping she’s picked the right direction. 

It wails again, in the trees to her left, scurrying across the hillside after her.   

“Fuck off!” she screams.

Another noise comes roaring out of the dark, drowning out her cry. Lights -- searing, blinding -- swing around the curve. Brakes squeal as the car swerves, narrowly missing her; glass shatters as Sloane staggers to the roadside, her lantern cracking as it hits the pavement and rolls off into the grass. The guard rail is like ice beneath her palm where she clutches it, using it to stay upright as her heart threatens to vacate her body through her throat. The hillside is drenched in red from the car’s tail lights. 

“Sloane!” 

Ethan -- it’s him, his car, he’s here, but he should be in Boston, shouldn’t he? He was when he texted her and that was only an hour ago so why is he here and how did he-- all of her panicked thoughts cease when he folds her into his arms and hugs her tight. The night around them is still, save for the purr of the engine and the soft dinging of the door ajar warning. 

“What the hell were you thinking, standing in the middle of the road like that?” he hisses, pulling her back to pin her down with his glare. “You could’ve-- I could’ve killed you.”

“You’re here,” she whispers. 

Her lips are numb from the cold and shock. She reaches up for the blanket, then realizes that she must’ve lost it somewhere along the way.

“Of course I’m here. You really need to stop scaring the hell out of me, you know that.” His brow furrows as he frowns, taking in the state of her. He slips off his own coat and bundles it around her. “Honey, you’re freezing. Let me--”

“We have to go,” she urges, remembering what’s waiting for her, out in the forest. Grabbing hold of his hand, she starts tugging him towards the car. “There’s -- in the woods, there was -- I don’t know, this thing, and it kept screaming, it was horrible--”

Ethan shushes her rambling and guides her into the car, buckling her seatbelt when her hands won’t stop shaking. She tucks her nose into the collar of his coat, breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he backs the car up and turns back towards the estate. With one hand on the wheel, the other finds hers and holds tight. 

“Your friends called me when they couldn’t find you, wanted to know if I’d heard from you, in case you’d made it to somewhere with a working phone. I called you-- well, more than I’d care to admit, though it was obvious your phone was dead.” 

“How did you get here so fast?” she wonders aloud. 

“I got here around twelve-thirty, did a sweep of the woods. Around one I started driving around, hoping that I’d come across you in case you made it to the road.” He gives her a worried glance before returning to the road. “The others have been out with the sheriff’s office and the owners, searching the woods.” 

“But I… that doesn’t make any sense,” she tells him with a shake of her head. “It wasn’t even midnight when me and Bryce started back, and he was gone for twenty, maybe thirty minutes. And then I saw him-- well, not him, but at the time I thought it was him being an asshole-- and then that… thing chased after me and I got turned around, sure. But it couldn’t have been more than an hour.”

“Sloane, it’s nearly three in the morning.”

Her immediate reaction is to protest, but the concern in his tone and the clock on his dash render her mute. Which is for the best, she realizes later after pulling up to the house and seeing the driveway choked with cars: Bryce’s, the Bell’s, and several police cruisers. Modern floodlights tucked below the eaves turn the dark house into a bright beacon. Blue and red lights of the cruisers swirl across the lawn. As soon as they pull up, her friends race over to the car and wrap her into a hug. One of the cops takes her statement, ignoring Ethan’s insistence about getting her home and taking it over the phone instead. 

“Must’ve been a coyote,” the cop tells her after she’s finished. “We get a lot of reports of them out here, being so close to the state park.”

“A coyote,” Sloane repeats. 

“Well, sure,” he says with a shrug. “Unless you think it was something else?” 

She doesn’t have an answer for that. Having dealt with her fair share of wildlife coming down from the mountains and into her backyard growing up, she can’t remember ever hearing anything similar. Even her grandfather’s tales about the Wampus cat, her favorite spooky story as a kid, didn’t hold a candle to… to whatever was out there. 

After the cops leave and the Bells lock up, her friends pile into Bryce’s car for the ride home. Though not before Bryce shares with her his own experience with the mysterious shadow. However, he’d gotten a good look with the lantern. 

“It wasn’t an animal,” he whispers to her. “It was her. It was Maggie, I swear it.” 

Sloane didn’t know what to say to that. So she hadn’t said anything, just squeezed his hand and hugged him goodbye. Returning to Ethan’s car, she settled into the passenger seat, thankful for the change of clothes he had in the trunk -- and the first aid kit, of course.  

With the classical music floating out of the speakers and the warmth of his hand in hers again, it would’ve been easy for Sloane to close her eyes. She can’t help it, though, when they back out of the drive. She looks up to the long row of windows. It could be a trick of the headlights, but something watches them from around the lace curtains. As they start to pull away, it slinks back into the shadows of the house. 

------   

Author’s notes and what-have-yous: 

The inspiration for the Angler Estate is the abandoned Uplands Mansion in Baltimore, MD. If you like urbex stuff, I highly recommend looking up some videos of it on YouTube. It’s a gorgeous place, despite all the vandalism. The owners’ surname being Bell is a fun nod to the Bell Witch Cave, my state’s claim to supernatural fame. The mention of The Evil Dead cabin is another poke, since the 1981 original was filmed an hour away from where I live. 

The “watch where you step” line is pulled directly from Uncharted: Drake’s Fortune. 

#open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #Kaila writes things #f: the open door

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 22: Five-Dimensional Man-Go

This is a session I’ve been looking forward to for quite some time. I get to introduce three of my favorite characters in the entire campaign. 

In the real world it’s been a while, but this was the session we officially welcomed a new chaos goblin player to the table. And damn, am I glad we did.

Valeria goes to Hoeska’s armor smiths for some upgrades, and accidentally kicks off a goth fashion montage. Her new armor has gorgeous black detailing with purple rose accents, accessorized with a brand-new Shusva-skin bag with matching claw clasp. Gral picks up a fancy Shusva-leather cloak and belt. Shoshana, realizing that a vampire’s castle is basically a Hot Topic, gets some fishnet arm warmers to accompany her fang necklace. We also get some healing potions and hope they aren’t made from lost souls or anything.

Valeria resummons Aethis, who pops back into existence in a burst of glitter that’s entirely incongruous with the local grim aesthetic. Apparently celestial gators are only mildly inconvenienced by fatalities.

As we hitch up the horses to get back on the road, we find out Ser Boris is also preparing to head out. “Woods full of many nasty creatures. Must keep hunting! Maybe I find way down to Barroch, I have heard monsters are attacking workers there.”

Gral perks up at the name of his people’s capitol. “I’m sure the orcs will treat you well. What kind of monsters are they dealing with?”

“Wolves, bears, maybe werewolf? I will find out when I get there! Cursebreakers do not have much of working relationship with orcs, so info is scattered. That is why I must investigate!”

While he heads south into orc territory, we’re gonna go north toward Sturmhearst to look into all the Key nonsense Professor Bjork told us is goin’ down. It’ll be a long trip; it’s on the coast, and we’re well into the heartland of the wood. As we get closer, we’re gonna have to look for new maps, too – the patchwork of safe zones and Curse disasters changes rapidly, and the roads that were passable a month ago might be deathtraps today.

We trek for several blessedly uneventful days. One night, in a region where a sizable number of halflings have settled, we have the fortune of seeing an inn on the horizon as night starts to fall. A sign proclaims the Fusilier’s Rest, a combination winery and inn located on a lush vineyard. Valeria’s kind of suspicious of anything too plant-based right now, but the rest of us totally want a winery tour.

We hitch up our wagon next to a post labeled Valet Parking. Aethis parks themself in the stables. Looking at the place, with its rather low doorframe and quaintly painted décor, we suspect Demish wine snootery instead of weird plant cults.

We duck through the door and take in the scene. It’s on the upscale end of totally normal, with locals sitting around eating and a huge pot of Demish onion soup bubbling on the hearth. The old halfling bartender is wearing pieces of a worn but well-cared-for blue-and-gold uniform. Two polished old pistols hang within reach on the wall, along with a pristine old Fusille musket in a place of honor behind the bar. Shiny medals in a handmade case are proudly displayed atop the bar.

As is D&D protocol, we look around for any notably wacky characters. We find them in the corner: an old man with unkempt white hair and multi-lensed, colorful glasses, engrossed in a game of Man-go against a young human doctor. We know he’s a doctor, because he’s got a stubby-beaked Sturmhearst mask pushed up to expose a tired but friendly face. His coat might once have been a lab coat, but it’s since been patched and sutured together so many times that it’s probably done a full ship-of-Theseus. His right arm is in a makeshift sling, and he’s nursing a small glass of Kevan vodka; probably the closest thing they have to rotgut moonshine in a wine-snob place like this.

We’re like, neat. Let’s eat soup.

Valeria orders a local vineyard wine and chats with the bartender about it. “The man who runs it is a madman; he thinks he can grow good wine grapes in Valdia. But he pays my sister well, she does her best.”

“Oh, don’t listen to René, his sister does marvelous work! No halfling will admit that wine grown outside Demionde will be more than spoiled grape juice,” teases one of the local barflies.

Gral asks Valeria who’s winning the Man-go game. The old man is rambling pleasantly, barely paying attention, and he is absolutely crushing the young doctor. The doctor looks like he’s totally aware he’s being taken to the cleaners, but he’s gonna let the old guy have his fun. As the game draws to a close, the younger man smiles ruefully and hands over a few coins. Meanwhile, the old fella, his eyes magnified to mismatched sizes by his funky glasses, spots our most conspicuous party member.

“Kyr! How’s the wine?” he calls, beckoning her over.

“Quite good actually!” Valeria chirps. “Was that the Kiloni maneuver?”

“Yes, or a variant I picked up somewhere! The Killam maneuver…kilometer…kilowatt? Something of the sort.”

Valeria very much wants to play him, and the old guy’s defeated opponent is happy to trade her his spot. The young man’s propped up leg hits the ground with a suspiciously loud clunk as he vacates his chair for her.

The old man peers up at her, bright-eyed even behind multiple layers of glass. “So what brings a Knight of the Rose here?”

“We’re headed to Sturmhearst, actually!”

“I see! I’ve heard the roads between here and there are pretty tricky to travel, you know.”

“No kidding. Do you have an updated map?”

He snaps his fingers. “No, but I just came from there! I’ve got an old map and I can easily update it for you kids. René is on night watch, I’ll leave it with him so you don’t have to stay up waiting for me to finish it. I know a route that’ll get you there lickety-split and safe as trousers! Now let me guess, you played at the clubs in Aurentium? You have the look about you.”

“Not the clubs, precisely…”

“Ah! Street rules, then!”

Valeria, who played Man-go against literally everyone who would have her, shrugs. “Maybe?”

“René, we’ll need some cups and a dumb hat!” the old man calls.

The young doctor wanders over to the bar and gets a refill, settling down next to Shoshana. “Hey, wanna bet on their game? The old guy’s pretty sharp.”

Shoshana laughs. “Oh, my friend is definitely gonna lose. I’ll put a silver on her, though, out of loyalty.”

It’s an odd game to spectate. Valeria falls behind early on; an insight check shows he’s not cheating, he’s just VERY good. Oh, and also Valeria’s assuming an entirely different set of house rules than this guy, and it’s tripping her up. Wait, are we doing street style, or dock style? Anyway, Valeria’s wearing the dumb hat now. At one point they both spit on the board.

“Y’know, I’ve never seen anyone from Sturmhearst take the mask off,” Shoshana says to her new drinking buddy, watching the game with confusion.

“On the clock, it’d be a safety hazard! But off the clock, eh, it’s fine. Some people get more elitist than me about it, I’m a hometown Valdian through and through.”

(You’re from Joisey, I’m from Joisey! What exit?)

“I haven’t actually been to the university since the Curse started, but I’m heading back to research some stuff I found out up in the Grammelsmarsh swamps. Some real disconcerting stuff regarding undead, and the like. The locals refer to it as the Wailing Wight.”

Shoshana gives him a once-over, rolling a decent Perception. He’s scruffy, though that could mostly be from hard travel, and definitely looks like he’s had a rough time of it. His arm’s in a sling and the little exposed skin Shoshana can see has more than its share of nicks and scars. His gait when he walked over was slightly uneven, one leg making a suspiciously heavy thunk against the wooden floor. Over his shoulder, he’s carrying a long, heavy case sealed with tar for waterproofing.

Hold up. She points to the case. “Do you have an alive guy in there?”

“…Uh.”

“You hesitated, and that’s not great.”

“Uh…no. No, I do not have an alive guy in here,” he says awkwardly.

“Okay, because the last time there was a weird bag, there was a whole-ass dude in there, and it turned into a whole thing.”

“N-no, no no no, there’s no person in the case,” he protests, not quite meeting Shoshana’s judgy cat eyes. He definitely doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, even though the case has started gently twitching.

Meanwhile, old Man-Go man has proved himself quite fluent in Draco-Aquilian, though with an unmistakable mammalian accent. Gral butts into the lively conversation when it winds back to Valdian. “It seems like you’re rather well traveled. What is your profession?”

“Oh, y’know, I go here and there. I’ve been around. There’s so much to see out there!”

Valeria smiles. “I can’t fault you there. Anything in particular you’re looking for?

“I go wherever the winds take me, mostly,” he says, as if Cursewood travel isn’t the most dangerous hobby since they invented pyromancer cookoffs.

Valeria, impressively, only loses the game by a little. The old man jovially shakes her hand and promises to go get started on that map to Sturmhearst for us, springing to his feet with surprising deftness for his age and bustling up toward his room.

Gral and Shoshana, meanwhile, are busy makin’ friends with the doctor guy. “What swamp were you fighting undead in?”

“The Grammelsmarsh? It’s downriver of Mornheim.”

“Ohhh! We heard some, uh, adventurers did a purifying ritual on the river. It might help your situation?”

“That’s great, but…I dunno. Once you mix in swamp gas, things get a lot more interesting.”

“The explosions kind of interesting?”

“…Sometimes.”

The players have noticed that our doctor friend here is, like…not an NPC, there’s another guy at the table (the same player as Isadora! :D), so we start sizing each other up as travel companions.

“You seem like a pretty decent guy,” Gral says, immediately insight checking.

“I mean, you guys seem on the up-and-up too?”

Shoshana winks at him. “Well, I’m not that up-and-up but these two are very diplomatic and important.”

“If you’re also headed up to Sturmhearst, it might make sense for us to travel together? I’m not very quiet,” he admits, knocking on his knee with a clang, “but if you-“

“Hello!” Valeria, hearing clanking, has clanked over loudly to join. “Kyr Valeria Argent, at your service!”

“Uh, hi! I’m Vigdor. I’m a doctor! I mean, you knew that, with the, uh-“ He points to his bird mask. “If you need any balms or salves – I mean, I’m mostly a surgeon, but I know some herbology.”

Is that so! We chat about Dr. Ulmus and Dr. Kjeller. Everyone loves Dr Kjeller!

“I’ve heard of Dr. Kjeller! I haven’t met the guy, but he’s the leading expert on troll physiology. Getting him to come lecture hasn’t worked out so far.”

We ask René the innkeeper about any local threats. Apparently this town’s gotten lucky; the biggest threats recently have just been bandits and one overaggressive badger.

“Oh yeah, one of my cats fought one of those, it went badly,” Shoshana remembers. “For the badger, I mean. I have weird cats.”

(The inn also has cat. His name is Jean Clawed.)

Eventually we all head upstairs. As the night bears on, the girls fall asleep, presumably after painting each other’s toe claws and gossiping. Gral’s still awake, practicing his lute in the rare luxury of a single room, when he pauses. Something doesn’t sound right.

Putting his lute aside, he listens cautiously at the window and feels a deep dread grow in his stomach. The faint scent of ozone drifts in the air. The crickets and night birds have gone dead silent, and in the unsettling quiet he can hear the terrible growling, piping sound he’s heard twice before: once in a house in a hole, and once as Bullbreaker’s expedition faced its destruction.

With great urgency and no volume control, Gral sends a Message to a sleeping Shoshana: “RED ALERT, KEY SHIT’S HERE.” Shoshana wakes up and kicks Valeria.

Gral then sends a Message to our new friend Vigdor, more calmly. “If you have weapons, get them now. Something is happening, it’s going to be dangerous.”

The early warning lets Vigdor and Valeria armor up, Shoshana helping Valeria buckle on the heavy pieces in a hurry. Meanwhile, Gral sprints downstairs, casting Mirror Image as he goes.

René the innkeeper is cleaning his fusille with practiced precision, humming an old marching song. Gral can hear something moving in the kitchen behind the old halfling, so he pops another stealthy Message cantrip. “This is the orc from earlier. I think something bad is in the kitchen – I’ve heard that noise before. Hold on tight to that musket, I’m going in.”

“The back door is locked, I would have heard someone come in,” the old soldier whispers back.

“These things don’t use doors,” Gral hisses.

A 17 Persuasion convinces René, who loads a bullet into his musket. “Where are those friends of yours?”

A heavy clank from upstairs answers that question, as Vigdor and Valeria thud toward the stairs. Gral scopes out the room and sees, on the bar, a big leather map case. The map from the Man-Go guy! Then he peers into the kitchen and, yup, that’s a fleshhound, all right.

Everyone else upstairs bursts into the hall just as a second fleshhound emerges into existence next to them. Shoshana, without hesitation, hits it with a gout of flame. Its strange ethereal flesh solidifies for a moment, but then it shakes itself and charges forward, its displacement energy restored.

Meanwhile, the one downstairs doesn’t aim for Gral or René, trying to run past them. Gral plays a discordant note on his lute, using his Minor Key at the opposite frequency to its vibration and preventing it from displacing, before he strikes. A spectral, scarred orc swings a warhammer down on the creature, Thrice-Burned’s ghost getting some payback as Gral’s blade strikes true.

René takes a shot with his musket and crit-fails, understandably freaked out by the writhing mass of teleporting tentacles, the wild shot careening directly into Gral. Luckily, it only pops a Mirror Image, but everyone upstairs hears a frustrated yell of “NO. FRIEND! ME FRIEND!”

Vigdor dashes past Valeria to the stairs, his previously-motionless arm reaching out of its sling to slap her on the armor with a resounding clash of metal. A silver Jotunn rune glows through the cloth of his sleeve, and she feels Protection from Good and Evil snap into place over her. She takes the cue and stabs the hound, rose vines bursting from her trident and stabbing their long thorns into its oddly flickering flesh.

The pupils on the Eyegis snap to the space behind the beast. Our normal eyes see nothing, but the Key-aligned shield’s eyes see a magical gate, faintly connected to the hound.

As a member of the Order of the Rose, Valeria’s trained to deal with fiendish incursions. This isn’t a portal to the Hells, but she thinks it might get closed similarly. As she charges forward to deal with it, everything seems to move twice as fast as it should: the Key’s spatial distortion has made certain areas the opposite of difficult terrain, where you can move double your speed. Nyoom!

Shoshana zaps it with lightning and heads downstairs to help Gral, who’s being slapped by tentacles. The zapped one flees toward the portal, but Valeria Sentinels and stabs it to death. The downstairs hound gets its tentacles into the real Gral.

Vigdor moves to Gral’s aid, ripping away the last of his sling and clamping a large circular blade to his forearm. With the pull of a ripcord, it loudly whirs into motion. As the Buzzing Butcher slams into the displacer hound with a gory squelch, he asks about sneak attack, like a rogue!

A very, very loud rogue.

Gral breaks away from the hound’s tentacles and looks around. Through the windows, more fleshhounds have appeared outside. The space outside is warped – leaving this inn is going to be very difficult while all this nonsense is going on. The lights of the vineyard seem miles away.

However, Gral realizes, the hound responded to the sound of his lute. And when he used his Minor Key he caught a glimpse of the portal it came through. He begins to play again, using the Minor Key to try to take control of it. The GM allows him to burn a 3rd level spell slot for a colossal roll of 33. He moves the portal inside a wall, to temporarily block anything coming through.

René takes a shot at the remaining hound and misses.

Valeria, upstairs, draws her chained sword and spends a 1st level slot to try to close the portal, the same way paladins close Infernal gateways. The chains of Rack extend from the sword and stitch the portal shut.

(Gral and Valeria each gain inspiration for using Portal Trixx!)

A Thing Occurs at initiative 0, and we hear strange piping coming from the stables. We’re kind of occupied, so we trust Aethis to bite anything that bothers the horses.

Shoshana sprints down the stairs and to the bar. Aw, there’s another flesh hound coming in from the kitchen. Her Chill Touch misses, and the new monster slaps Gral.

Vigdor nyooms through a Zoom, which makes some Really Weird doppler effects happen with his clanky leg and his buzzy arm. He slides across the bar like an action hero and slams his saw down, missing the hound and showering the room in a hail of splinters.

Valeria is still upstairs, and it is LOUD downstairs. She’s gonna dash to get the heck down there and rejoin the festivities.

Gral Phantasmal Forces the new fleshhound, and in its mind, horrible liquid tendrils emerge from the soup pot and constrict around it. The soup rises to the defense of the Fusilier’s Rest!

René gets his wits about him and takes a pistol shot at the nearer fleshhound, tagging it with a bullet and keeping it in place. “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE. OUR POLICY IS NO PETS! I will not make an exception for you, you do NOT seem particularly polite!”

The fleshhound grabs the map case off the bar and starts to run for it. René hits it with the butt of his rifle. The second hound can’t attack Vigdor since it’s too busy convincing itself soup isn’t dangerous, so Vigdor’s free to draw his pistol and unload a Sneak Attack bullet into the fleeing hound’s back.

René reloads his musket. It’s been a long time since he’s done it under fire, but the Royal Fusilier Corps of Demionde does not half-ass their training.

The portal the hound’s heading for bisects a wall now, so it might be hard for the hound to get through.  Before it can worry about that, though, it comes face to face with Valeria, who’s ready to rumble. She kills it, dropping the map to the ground, and skitters through the Zoomy Zone to try to trident the second hound. It displaces out of the way.

Gral seizes control of another portal, and this time decides to use it to see what’s going on. He tries to hop out to the stables, where that weird noise is coming from. He enters a weird nether space full of the flickering bodies of fleshhounds, writhing and blinking, which the DM calls the Threshold. Gral accepts psychic damage to see what’s going on, and the patterns become clearer as the Key takes hold temporarily in his brain. These portals all connect to each other and the Threshold at the same time. Whatever’s out in the stables, making that eerie piping noise, is tied to the portals – it can’t fully exist in our realm. So if you close all the portals, it’ll force that thing to leave; if you drive it away, the portals will close. Either way, the Key’s influence on this place will fade.

Oh, and that thing out in the stables? It’s the Lurke r again.

Gral’s old enemy wrests control of the portal back from Gral, who stumbles back out into the inn, reeling from the sudden whammy of Key taint.

Shosha shoots lightning at the nearest hound, which retaliates by leaping through her, disrupting her matter with its own. It’s a highly unpleasant experience. A new hound jumps out of the portal next to Valeria. As Vigdor, Shoshana, and René all attack, Gral shuts another portal with his lute’s magic. “Guys, there’s something horrible in the stables!” he shouts. “If we bust enough portals it’ll go away!”

The Lurker continues to make mysterious dice rolls, but apparently it’s rolling poorly, so we don’t quite find out what it’s up to. It peers through one of the last few portals, only visible to Gral and the Eyegis. It’s hard to get a good look at, fifth-dimensional as it is, but it’s weirdly humanoid, actually? It’s surrounded by floating lanterns and holding some sort of pipe or flute.

(The DM notes that Jean Clawed is awake and doesn’t see why any of this is his business. He’s capable of using the portals; he’s not Key tainted, that’s just how cats are.)

We exchange blows with the remaining hounds, Chromatic Orbs flying and chainsaws buzzing. René bayonets a hound to death, for the honor of all NPCs.

Gral powerslides on his knees across the Zoomy Zone, playing a complicated riff, woobling himself right through the fireplace into the kitchen. He spends another level 3 spell slot to get the portal to dance itself shut. “And that was Through the Fire and Flames!”

René reloads his gun. Shoshana blasts the hound with fire, so Vigdor’s action goes off and he chainsaws it to death, the body and spine getting caught in the spinning chain. FATALITY.

The searing light of Shoshana’s fire casts sharp shadows on the walls of the inn, which begin to writhe and re-form, swirling together into a lithe, snarling feline shape that springs toward the Lurker. It pounces with an odd, broken yowl that’s incredibly familiar – although Valeria and Gral have only ever heard it once, from underneath an overturned laundry basket.

Vigdor, who’s never met a flesh-hound OR a cursecat before, makes an arcana check to figure out what in the seven hells is going on. It seems some sort of entity is thinning the barriers between realities? Its very essence seems to be intermingled with portal; it cannot fully leave the portal or exist in this realm. Like a malevolent, sentient pair of curtains.

He’s like okay, curtains sound like something I can chainsaw. It’s curtains for you, see? (Fun fact: if he rolls 21 or higher on attack roll with chainsaw, he gets sneak attack regardless of other circumstances. Because it’s a goddamn CHAINSAW.)

The Lurker turns its attention directly on us, or at least to the enormous hissing cat hellbent on ruining its day. Gral, still strumming furiously, realizes the Lurker’s only got a couple of portals left. He’s closed a portal already; he’s gonna try to close all of them for good. The DM imposes disadvantage and a brutal pile of psychic damage, but Gral is unphased, hitting a power chord that shakes the entire inn.

The Lurker screeches and reaches for him, the space around Gral beginning to warp, but it’s too late, the portal slamming shut against it. The Zoomy Zones vanish; the portals close, the strange atmosphere fades. The road looks to be the size it was before instead of an endless stretch of packed earth; the vineyard is once again an easy ten-minute walk away.

His big solo complete, Gral sways and collapses unconscious. Valeria runs over and Lays On Hands so he doesn’t die, while Vigdor starts casting Mending on the destroyed bar furniture. Shoshana, meanwhile, just stares dumbstruck at the place where a huge spectral cat is dissipating into shadowy smoke.

“…Schmendrick?”

René is holding himself together, but he’s an old man and it’s been a while since he fought this much. He took a bit of damage; Valeria pat pats him some HP. “Thank you, Kyr. I…I need to check on my other guests. The old man with the Man-Go game, we must find out if he lives.”

Valeria accompanies him upstairs. Rack’s glowing rose vines are still visible, stitching the portal shut; it’s healing more quickly than Valeria’s used to seeing. The door to the old man’s room swings open under Valeria’s cautious knock. The bed is unmade but empty, and the old man’s luggage is gone. The only things left are a generous tip on the counter and his odd multicolored glasses.

As Vigdor steps outside to clean viscera off his chainsaw, Gral scopes out the stables. There’s evidence of disturbed earth around the grounds, but nothing conclusive. Aethis seems to be unbothered.

We reconvene without much to show for our investigation. But we have one last clue: Why were the hounds so interested in the old man’s map? We spread it out on one of the bar tables and crowd around. It’s a map of Valdia, but the path it shows us to take to Sturmhearst makes No Sense. It’s not even contiguous! It tells us to start here and wander north, and then the line cuts off next to some scribbled equations, the route picking up again elsewhere, where he’s drawn a symbol we don’t recognize – and so on, in strange and nonsensical disconnected paths.

Shoshana, on a hunch, puts on the multicolored glasses the old man left behind. Like 3D glasses, they reveal the hidden image. Through the kaleidoscopic lenses, she can see remnants of the Key’s influence all around the inn; the fading Zoomy Zones and closing portals light up in ultraviolet. The map, meanwhile, has gained an entirely new dimension, like a layer of holographs. NOW the shortcuts make sense – they route through other dimensions along the z-axis, with additional symbols and labels giving helpful hints.

To be honest, it does look like a much faster route. And one of the notes says it leads to the “Drowned City” – hey, isn’t that where Bullbreaker ended up? But we’re all rightfully wary of hopping right back into another flesh-hound portal disaster.

We now have the Extradimensional Map and the Stranger’s Glasses.

Oh! The map has a note for us: “Happy Journeys to a fellow master of the game. Your friend, T.T.”

We immediately rifle through our notes and realize he may have been Professor Trevor Twombly, Headmaster of Sturmhearst. Vigdor, did you know that guy?!

Vigdor didn’t recognize him. Maybe the guy looked like Twombly, if you squint? There were a lot of old men at Sturmhearst, and they wear masks most of the time? Also he had distracting glasses? So, like…maybe?

As we bicker, Vigdor snags the glasses off the table and heads to his room, opening up his case and taking a look. The lenses don’t reveal anything new about the object inside.

Unfortunately, the poor rogue didn’t bother to stealth. “Whatcha doin’ in here?” says Valeria, who followed shortly behind.

“Um, just looking at my leg, seeing if anything is weird-“

Valeria immediately checks Vigdor’s lower limbs for wounds. “I can help! An extra pair of hands can always-”

“No, no! I think I’m okay! Really!” he protests. He glances into the case again, clearly torn, and sighs. “Let me explain.”

He lifts a whole human leg out of the case, kicking and twitching.

“This is my leg, and I’m taking it to Sturmhearst. I’m not sure if it’s wholly mine anymore.”

Through his torn pants, Valeria can see a clunky clockwork leg to match his buzz-saw arm.

One player immediately yells “FULL METAL ALCHEMIST.” Another player says it again, in a slightly different voice.

Dr. Vigdor Gavril has joined the party!

#the cursewood #session recap #the key #valeria argent #gral omokk'duu #shoshana bat chaya #vigdor gavril #schmendrick #trevor twombly

[venus-says]

Futari wa Precure Episodes 01-26

Am I rewatching precure? I can't believe this!

Yes, this is not a fever dream, I'm really rewatching precure, and not just Futari wa but THE WHOLE FRANCHISE. Am I crazy? Yes, because I'm already watching too much stuff at the same time and I barely have time for that as of right now, but I love screwing myself over so here we are!

I can't really remember the exact thing that sprung this desire of rewatching precure on me, but I've been thinking about it for quite some time now, at least since I wrapped up on the Aikatsu marathon before On Parade started, in fact, one of the reasons I started doing the old Kamen Rider reviews was because of this. I just didn't start it earlier because I'm the kind of crazy that picked a calendar, looked at the dates, and made the calcs, and realized I could watch pretty much everything in one year so I decided to keep this "project" for 2020 and start the new decade with a bang.

So this is how it'll go: I'll be dividing each season into quarters and pretty much covering one season per month with posts coming out weekly every Wednesday, the only exceptions for this rule are Futari wa and Yes! since these are the only seasons with sequels so instead of dividing into quarters I'll divide them in half and watch two seasons in a month rather than just one. Also, different from Kamen Rider's case, since I'm more familiar with the franchise and I know how the movies go I'll also be watching the movies and posting about them as I go along (All stars movies will come out usually in between the first and the second week, while solo movies will be in between the third and the forth). I really hope I don't go nuts and that this can go as smoothly as possible. XD In any case, it's precure time!

I promised myself I'd keep nostalgia out of these rewatches and do them like if it was my first time watching the series so that I can be less biased on certain aspects, but when it comes to the OGs is really difficult to not have my thoughts clouded by it. I may not have been around since Precure first aired, but Futari wa was effectively my first precure season too, I joined this bandwagon when Heartcatch was airing and I was so in love that I wanted to watch the past seasons and Futari was was my first choice and it holds a very special place in my heart because of that. I tried my best to keep those feelings out of this review and in some cases I was able to it effectively while on others not so much so, I apologize for that. XD

I usually try to separate these reviews on blocks of Plot, Characters, Designs, and commentary on specific episodes and I'm gonna try to apply this structure here more or less.

Talking about the plot... there's not a lot of it. XD

Like yeah, there's the whole Dark Kingdom attacking the Garden of Light thing, and the sort of scavenger hunt for the Prism Stones (not the Pretty Rhythm ones, just to be clear) and all of that, but there's not a whole lot going on beside it, is just Nagisa and Honoka goofing around while their friendship solidifies, they sometimes bump heads but that's pretty much it. And honestly, that's not bad, as while isn't a story about Nagisa and Fujipi the more slice-of-life portions are amazing.

The cure portion that is the problem, to start the action in these 26 episodes isn't the greatest, most of the time is just the cures being thrown away until they get fed up, say "I'll never forgive you!", hold hands, and they throw either a Marble Screw or, in rare occasions, a Rainbow Therapy. Of course, special fights with generals sometimes get a little more flare, but in general, they're pretty lackluster. Also, it feels like things weren't paced properly with the beginning and the end happening very fast and the middle being overly long in comparison. And of course, there's the element of defeating a villain or a set villains while there's still half a season ahead which means change of villains for people who we never knew existed before and apparently were a big deal, and if you read my Kamen Rider review you know how I feel about huge changes affecting the antagonists...

But oh well, I have lots of things to get through so I won't hammer on this for too long. MOVING ON.

Futari wa's biggest strength, at least for this first half, is CHARACTERS. The side cast has many hits or misses, but the protagonists Nagisa and Honoka more than compensate for it. One fun thing of this whole experience was kinda re-discovering them? Because I never watched the OG precure and Max Heart again after my first time watching like 10 years ago and I also don't have the best memory so I forgot a lot of minor things, like how Nagisa is such a downer in regards to their mission, and how positive and bright Honoka is and these are traits that are kinda opposites to their personalities with Nagisa being more outgoing and energetic and Honoka being more calm and polite, and this is so perfect and so much fun, I love it to that. Speaking of surprises I forgot how much of a savage Honoka was, like, the girl put a group of thieves on the line by just yelling at them. THAT'S THE DEFINITION OF POWER.

Unfortunately, they don't come alone. Their fairy partners, Mepple and Mipple, are... annoying. Mipple not so much, she has moments where I go "Really queen?" but for the most part she doesn't bother me, in fact, I'm sympathetic towards her who has to be partnered romantically with such a piece of crap of a male that Mepple is. I don't know why but I completely forgot the jerk that Mepple actually is and let me tell you, it wasn't fun seeing him being misogynist, selfish, and just plain rude, not just to Nagisa regularly but also with Mepple, it's actually very sad. I don't remember if he gets any better in the future, but for now, I'm hating him.

The side characters aren't very special, the girls in the Lacrosse Team and the Science Club are more or less just extensions and supporters or Nagisa and Honoka but I overall like them. The major highlights in terms of side characters are Akane and Fujipi. Akane is a huge positive because she has great energy, she's very fun, and he not only provides a meeting point for the girls but also has a mentor role, though its a very little one, that is great to see. Fujimura on the other hand... I admit, the dude is okay, he never really did anything relevant so there's nothing to hate on him per se, but he's a love interest and his situation with Nagisa never develops on any sort of way is just a very flat experience which makes his relevance even smaller so I can't help but think "what is he still doing here, just disappear with him already" every time he's up on the screen.

There's no other way to put this, the villains are plane as hell. Some of them have good designs but overall, they're very band. Pissard seems like it could've been a cool dude but we spent only 5 episodes with him, that's not enough time with him to make him interesting. Gekidrago is the boring and stereotypical "dumb villain", I think I don't need to write anything else after that. Irukubo is the stoic powerful villain, but much like in Pissard's case, we barely see him in action so it's not enough to make me care for him, and the Dark King is just a horrible CGI blob of darkness. The best villains of this first half are the siblings Poisony and Kiriya, Poisony is actually the best one of the generals seeing that she's a strategist and most of her plans were all pretty good so she was always able to get the cures corned in some way, she may have flunked her cover in that episode where she disguises as Honoka for not doing her research well before assuming the role, but overall she's amazing. Kiriya is the villain that never attacked the cures directly, as far as I remember he never summoned a Zakkenna, and putting it like this may sound like a bad thing, but trust me, it's not. He's the first precure villain to get a "redemption" and as rushed as it was his presence in the story and his arc as a character was also pretty well done so he deserves to share the podium with his sister as best villains.

Since we're talking about villains let's talk about the cures now. Black and White have a very simple design and that's not a bad thing, they're simple but they're still pretty different from each other and it's not a difference that screams to the eyes like id there was something wrong, they complement each other perfectly which only helps in making them this iconic duo that they are. The transformation items, as well as the Prism Hopeish and that notepad thingy, are very 2000's but they have their charm. I think the thing that didn't age very well were the effects for the transformations and the attacks, don't get me wrong I love their original transformation, there's a frame on it that is just marvelous, but watching with 2020's eyes there are parts that feel very wonky. Following the theme, the attacks have a very simple animation but in this case, it works because they can make some very interesting stuff with it, like launching a Marble Screw through Poisony's Umbra Witch hair.

Going into more detail on the episodes, these 26 ones feel like a normal seasonal anime, despite the pacing problems if these 26 episodes were a single season it would've worked well because there was no loose end lost in the mix, maybe the Fujipi stuff would be the only thing that would end with no proper closure, but then again that's not important so it would be a satisfying end. There were four major arcs inside this mini-season so I'll comment on them separately.

The first and shortest arc is the introductory arc that goes from Episodes 1 to 5. And there's not a lot to say here, they introduce the characters, the mission, and the character relations on a good way, there was nothing stellar but it's a good introduction to the series, the only let down is the fighting portion that is very lackluster, in special the final fight against Pissard that was supposed to be a big important moment but that in the end was just very not impressive at all.

The second arc goes from Episode 6 to 11. This is probably the most boring arc of all despite some interesting happening here, we have the introduction to the Prism Stones and the Prism Hopeish, they first use the Rainbow Therapy here, and we also have the famous arc where Nagisa and Honoka fight for the first time and tighten their bonds. These are all interesting points but the set-up for these things to happen weren't the best, like for example Nagisa and Honoka's fight, I always remembered this as a very important moment, AND IT IS, the lesson learned at the end is pretty good and it results on them calling each other for their first name which is a key moment, but all of that happened because of Nagisa's feelings for Fujipi and all that misunderstanding and ughhh that's such a boring reason to make them fight, it was really a letdown. I think after everything the thing that stroke me the most was Honoka's birthday episode and how badass she was for putting some sense into the head of three adult men, which was really magnificent. Also, the first proper fight happened in this arc in the final battle against Gekidrago, it was short but it was good nonetheless.

The biggest arc is the third one that goes from Episodes 12 to 21. This is my favorite arc and a big part of it is because Poisony and Kiriya start to get active here. I don't know how to explain but their addition to the cast made things more dynamic and interesting to watch. Poisony's plans always led to interesting situations like when she hypnotized their classmates that were playing dress-up as the cures, or when she trapped them inside that mirror dimension, or even her last moments in the show where she used that old trick of impersonating someone and making the protagonist having to choose who's the real and who's the fake one, you know even if the precure portions weren't the best, they were put in the most interesting situations in this arc. Together with that, we have Kiriya that goes through a very interesting arc, until now I don't really know why he infiltrated in the school since, as I mentioned, he never acted directly as a villain against the precure (not as far as I can remember) but his interactions with the crew and especially his relationship with Honoka was quite interesting to see it develop. My high points from this arc were episode 18, the one where a girl confesses her feelings for Kiriya - there's a lot of interesting stuff happening here, and episode 20, Poisony's defeat and one of the best fights of this portion of the season. My low point would be episode 19 more because Mepple is being a jerk here than anything else, but I didn't enjoy this episode as much as I did to the other in this arc.

The final arc of this portion is another small one, it covers episodes 22 to 26, and this one is very odd. We start with a filler centered around Honoka's dog of all things that are followed by two two-parters that wrap-up this first half. I'm gonna be honest I don't like this arc, one because it introduces Pollun and two because the "final" fight is very unimpressive, yeah Shining Star debuts here and is a big moment but overall isn't the best, which is understandable after all are two girls launching a beam at a giant dark blob of CGI and there's not a whole lot there, but its fun to see a preview of what will become the Extreme Luminario in the next season. I also don't like how they didn't let the episode finish on a downer note with both of the girls missing their partners and such. But oh well, at least we had Episodes 23 and 24 here there were very interesting, they had this mystery/horror film vibe to it and I loved it.

And that's pretty much all I had to say! Thank you for reading all of this mess, I really appreciate it, I'm very excited to be doing this and I hope I can count with your support through this year. What are your thoughts on Futari wa? Let me know in the comments. I'll see you, folks, on a next time, and don't forget, if you ever see a shooting star be careful with what you wish for, a cellphone thing may fall from the sky right on your head and unless if you're an anime girl you will be in risk of having a concussion. XD In any case, see you around. o/

#Futari wa Pretty Cure #Futari wa Precure #precure

[crutchie-with-a-y]

alright so I know this is not what I normally post about but it’s a big issue and I am going to address it on my blog because um i can?? and if you have a problem with that go away. 

So the person with whom I am speaking to is a white straight male, who has a history of saying offensive shit, even to me, who he makes an effort to be nicer too because he is/was crushing on me (he told me friday and I rejected him as politely as possible, and I was honestly kinda expecting him to get all nice boy all over me but he didn’t actually bitch about it so) and we were discussing endgame. I brought up Captain Marvel because she is a legitimate part of the story (despite the fact she should have gotten significantly more screentime) and he obviously ^^ does not care for her. sO ima break down what he said.

First of all don’t fucking use the r word. Like what the hell is wrong with people. It’s not funny and I’m not a sNoWfLaKe for calling it offensive. It’s fucked up. 

Second, she was “in like zero marvel movies” because that’s how they PLANNED THE ORDER OF THE MOVIES???? According to the internet research i did, they wanted to ease audiences into the Marvel Universe and it’s reality, and they knew if they started with all these aliens and different planets and stuff the audiences would be confused. 

Third, “the whole point of her is so crazy feminists can feel better that men are  not the most powerful.” What? So they made a movie....to bring in more diversity and reperesentation? And the people who this movie made “feel better” are “crazy femnists”? So ya know. Girls. Okay. I know god forbid a woman feels represented and can relate to one of the most popular and loved movie franchises ever. And if you’re gonna go ‘you already have females in the movies you whiny bitches.’ YES. YES WE DO. BUT CAPTAIN MARVEL WAS MARVEL’S FIRST FEMALE-LEAD MOVIE! WE DIDN’T GET NEARLY AS MUCH BACKSTORY OR DEVELOPMENT WITH A FEMALE CHARACTER AS WE DID MALE FOR SO LONG. 

Feminists aren’t crazy they just want equality. Ya know. Their fucking rights. 

Men are biologically better? When in the living fuck?? Did that become?? A thing?? Men are often physically stronger, but in a universe where people are shooting webs from their hands and can fucking fly that doesn’t really mean anything. And physically stronger doesn’t mean better. It just means like...DNA. 

So yeah. In the end I asked:

“So do you not like Captain Marvel because you’re not comfortable enough with your masculinity to accept a woman being stronger than you (a man)?”

Because that’s pretty much the vibe I get from these ‘cRaZy FeMiNiSt AgEnDa’ arguments. 

He also said that she was a lesbian because she had short hair and I responded 

omg white straight males can be so dumb sometimes. short hair = lesbian. like what?

to which he exploded at me saying that it was a joke (and used the n word, which I have called him on) and “have you watched gay guys I live with a trans gay guy okay he just talks to me all the time about how gay people look he was the first person that said straight hair on girls is lesbian and how tf does that have anything to do with being white black dudes and girls say shit all the time”

which is like. The fuck? just because....a trans guy says something offensive about people who are LGBTQIA+ doesn’t make it okay? 

and you’re right, it’s not just white straight males who say things like that (i’m sorry was I making a broad generalization?) but I was speaking directly to YOU a white straight male, who was saying something that I often hear from white straight males. And calling out offensive shit often said by white straight males. 

And yes i could have responded better. you bet! But you could also just not be sexist, racist, and homophobic. 

And also reminder. 

Offensive jokes are not any less offensive because you mean them as a joke. It isn’t fucking funny to take the suffering and pain of minorites and victims as a joke. 

Also this all ended in me saying sorry for pissing him off (which i kinda regret) and him not apologizing, accusing me of “trying to make him seem racist and sexist” and telling me to fuck off. And I have to go to school with him tomorrow. SO please like, keep me in your thoughts i don’t know what’s going to happen 

#sexism #sexist #homophobic #homophobia #racist #racism #feminism #femininity #feminist #captain marvel #marvel #endgame #sexism captain marvel #equality #lgbtqia #PRIDE #lgbtqa rights #lgbtia justice

[hadnothing]

OKAY, SO — QUICK TALKS ABOUT THE SHANG-CHI MOVIE AND IMPLICATIONS OF IT.

as a reasonably vocal asian american i’ve been having this conversation with friends and family a few times since the movie was announced. people have a lot of different thoughts about a lot of different things and so i’m gonna break down mine here so that i can point to this post instead of rehashing it all for the umpteenth time ‘cause i’m a lazy bastard.

i absolutely think that marvel is continuing a trend of picking somewhat well-known but not too beloved characters to bring to the big screen, yeah. it allows them to rework a lot of the material and not have too many comic buffs pissed when they inevitably change too much or ‘get something wrong.’ shang-chi is a pretty good choice for that imo; he’s been around a long time and he’s been reworked in comics as well because of the whole fu manchu debacle and it’s a chance to consolidate a nicer background for him yet again. it’s also about time for the representation, and yes, i do think this is an extremely marketable move for them as far as an asian american audience goes and most of their american fanbase in general.

i do not think it is a marketable move for them with asian audiences in asia, but absolutely it is for asian audiences in the west. you have to understand that representation is only a big deal for people like me, who are used to not seeing people like myself on screen in major roles. in a similar way to the way that crazy rich asians was seen as a step back and totally flunked in china, etc., i would predict that shang-chi won’t meet a ton of success outside of the north american fanbase because guess what? representation isn’t an issue in that market, and to be bringing a character with this kind of really questionable background up is definitely a more lousy move and comes across as kind of an insult tbh. it comes across as a sellout move, because in a way it is even though it’s probably meant somewhat genuinely as representation is overdue, and i get that. but also, it’s representation that comes at a time when suddenly it’s going to make them a lot of money to put it out there. it’s not like there weren’t resources before. it’s because people yell about wanting this more now. and that goes for a lot of things now, but it doesn’t make that faint sour taste go away, y’know? i think that because i’ve been able to live back and forth with my family in taiwan and america, it gives me a lot of perspective i wouldn’t have otherwise, and like, dude. seriously, it’s a step back for sure for me. i think they would’ve done a lot better to work with an asian american character, because that’s a way more accessible and understandable experience for the western audience and would mean even more to see, and it’s additionally something that the eastern audience wouldn’t begrudge nearly as much and would be more likely to celebrate. i’d be personally mortified to try and see that movie with my fave cousin or something, he’s like, what is this? this is some crazy silly caricature! this so old, wow, i don’t get it! i would rather see something about somebody like you! and i kind of have to agree. whether or not i actually go to see the movie at all on my own, i’m undecided about as well, just because it’s an emotional mix-up for me personally. it’s also worth noting that while liu is chinese, he’s a canadian citizen, and it would have been entirely possible to cast a chinese citizen. and yes, leung is chinese, and guess what? my cousin told me there’s calls to boycott him for signing into this. so that says something.

i would have preferred to see a different asian hero (even though i have a lot of nostalgia for mokf) - however, you also have to take into account that good representation in comics is a much newer thing, and marvel does like to pull more established characters for films. shang-chi has been around a hell of a lot longer than, like, amadeus cho or kamala khan, or any of the newer generation folks (which, we also don’t know if or how they’re going to be worked into the current mcu). why this is, idk, i don’t think it’s a source material thing given how much they like to change things, i think it may fr be solely a whole ass thing about getting the chance to improve on what they’ve made mistakes with and revive their marketability. they’ve been working shang-chi into a lot of stuff lately like domino’s solo series and appealing to asian americans in general with amadeus, and new agents of atlas, and things like this.

i do have a lotta concerns with possible fetishization. i think everyone can acknowledge that marvel sells you heroes on a lot of sex appeal, and simu liu’s hot. fair enough! but like, consider the kind of sometimes rabid adoration people have over rdj, and hiddleston, in their mcu roles. blind stanning and drooling. now consider that with an asian man, from a whole bunch of white people who aren’t really aware of a lot of chinese culture except for this COMIC BASED movie that they watched, or maybe the k- and c-pop idols they already uwu over to a terrifying and often-ignorant degree, and wince with me. and dude, yes, i know not everyone is like that. i have tons of wonderful friends who make efforts to connect with me and like, surprise me with culturally appropriate gifts on holidays i celebrate, and cool things like that. but i’ve personally been fetishized by people i was dating, or people that were into me, and been subjected to so many stupid-ass questions more than i can count, and i’m only half taiwanese and white-passing a fair enough percentage of the time. this is going to open up some floodgates for dumb movie-linked jokes and assumptions. there’s always people that just don’t make an effort and don’t think that they’re ignorant and say what they want. and there’s enough asian fetishization in the world. i mean, fuck, lmao, just think of bts fangirls or whatever, right? it’s that line between enjoyment and total manic adulation that’s so dangerous.

i do not approve of shang-chi’s comic origins. if anyone has read the original master of kung-fu series, you are probably super aware that a - there’s a lot of white savior connotations, b - fu manchu is the most hideous, stereotypical, racially villainizing bullcrap, and c - it just wasn’t that good, period. there were a lot of issues with the series and if it weren’t for the fact that i read it as a kid and was excited over seeing media in comics about people like me, i would absolutely fucking hate it as a new reader today. but i can acknowledge that marvel did try to give him a new background later, even if it still wasn’t exactly stellar imo, and appreciate it for what it meant to me when i was too young to understand the problems in the writing, and that’s ok too. there’s definitely reasons i have a heavy preference for one of the lesser-seen villains over the titular character and have a whole ass blog for him where i’ve canon diverged heavily. 

all that said, i do think that reworking shang-chi is a pretty decent idea. if it wasn’t, i wouldn’t have him here. there’s a lot that can be done with what is, more or less, a really cool idea that can be done better and i can at least hope that the movie is just that. a good movie that hopefully nods to old kung-fu tradition. idk if i’ll care for it. for now i’m going to do my thing with writing him how i wish he was, that’s it, and keep my eye on things as they go. 

#OOC. #OPINIONS. #FETISHIZATION MENTION CW. #RACISM MENTION CW. #LONG POST. #opinions are welcome but pls be polite about them yanno? everyone has a voice #and i'm interested in like...other people's thoughts about the movie #bc i know that a lot of people don't have the same concerns as me #does it just look like a cool movie? or boring? or what

[1979semifinalist]

20 Best Rogue & Gambit Covers (Part II)

Here’s the same stuff I said before: 

For the hottest couple in the Marvel universe, there are surprisingly few truly great (and truly hot!) Rogue & Gambit covers to be published since the characters began flirting literal decades ago.

In the run up to our BIG RELEASE of Rogue & Gambit #1 on 1/3/18…and with a all of us aching for the lettered preview to drop, I thought I’d count down the 20 best Gambit & Rogue covers.

I AM including Kris Anka’s publicly released covers for our series in the running, even though they are not yet published…because…well, because this is the FIRST EVER ROGUE & GAMBIT COMIC AND HOW COULD I NOT???

If you think I missed something…it’s possible. But it’s also possible I’m just not a fan of that cover. To each their own as they say.

Most importantly…can anything we’ve seen yet beat the most iconic Rogue & Gambit cover of all time? (C’mon, you know the one!)

Anyway, here’s to A LOT MORE Gambit & Rogue hotness in our future and onto the list! :D

And HERE’S Covers #1 - #10!

10. X-MEN LEGACY #259 - CLAY MANN. Absolutely gorgeous. Again, BIG points off for Rogue bringing another dude to the party, but this is gorgeously illustrated, has a ton of tension and heat. What Mann manages to do with just Magneto’s hand on Rogue’s shoulder and Gambit’s on Rogue’s thigh and her hands on both of theirs is...sorta awe inspiring? And the fact that she’s got her eyes locked on the reader just puts it over the top intensity wise. It’s ironic, because this loses points for including Magneto...and yet the things that make it work like gangbusters demand that Magneto be there...conundrum. I think what it really highlights is what a shame it is that we never got a hot canon Rogue & Gambit cover from Mann.

09. GAMBIT #16 - YANICK PAQUETTE. Finally THEY. ARE. KISSING. Omg. I can’t believe we had to get to #9 before we’ve got them actually kissing! AHHHH. So. This is a great illustration. Beautiful treatment of both Gambit and Rogue...I love the body language especially. And I don’t mind the minimalist red background - and it might even be intended as a call back to the red background on that iconic Rogue & Gambit cover (you know the one). The big problem with this has nothing to do with Paquette’s lovely work at all...it’s that hideous absolutely massive “storyline banner” that takes up more than a fifth of the entire cover. It honestly wrecks EVERYTHING and makes me furious tbh. 

08. ROGUE & GAMBIT #1 - KRIS ANKA. Amazing energy and movement, love the confident use of white space, and the sassy attitude they both have in body language and expression. I am also a really big fan of the title block text as it is here...BUT that’s not how the final is going to look as it will have the “Marvel Legacy” trade dress...which is fine, but not as good as this. So slight points off there. I still like the actual “Rogue & Gambit” title block itself a lot. And the “Ring of Fire” part 1 text banner is small/high/unassuming, so it’s pretty good overall! You’ll see. And yes, I’m very biased here. Fully admit that. I’m a huge fan of Kris Anka’s work, he’s my friend, and this is my book. I come with ALL THE BIAS AND AM HAPPY TO ADMIT IT. ;D

07. X-MEN LEGACY #224 - LEE BERMEJO. This is a little dark compared to what we’re used to seeing for these two in covers and a little more realistic than I tend to prefer...but I totally dig it. It’s got a ton of intensity, and the body language and expression work is awesome. They really feel almost about to kiss, which, if you’re not going to get the actual kiss, is quintessential Gambit and Rogue, right? The title block stuff is really simple and unassuming as well.

06. UNCANNY AVENGERS #5 - CARLOS PACHECO. A really nice homage to the accepted most iconic Rogue & Gambit image of all time...it doesn’t beat it, but it’s totally lovely. A gorgeous illustration that feels like that old cover, but nicely updated and its own thing. It loses points for a little bit too much text nonsense going on...and the expressions don’t QUITE work for me, plus I’ll never love Rogue with short hair ;D but all in all, a beautiful piece.

05. ULTIMATE X-MEN #53 - ANDY KUBERT. If you can believe it...this is the only other cover on the list (ever?) with an actual lip lock! Crazy. But at least it’s GORGEOUS. I really do love this one - the blue tones, the rain, the intensity, the simplicity, I just love it. It loses a few points for really dumb stuff though. I hate the blue borders with the X symbols (so dumb) and some slightly obnoxious title block/giant numbers stuff, but mostly...I just...really hate Remy’s hair? Yeah, it just doesn’t look like Gambit with that weird wavy hair. That’s honestly my biggest beef with this otherwise gorgeous piece.

04. ROGUE & GAMBIT #2 - KRIS ANKA. Admittedly this is getting a bit of a pass for not having the title block on it, but since I know about what that will look like, I think I know enough to be okay with it. And I think people will love this cover even more when they see what’s inside the issue. But based on what we have here - it gets so many points for pure fun, plus it has great energy and movement. PLUS the obvious connection/chemistry between our leads. Bonus points for Rogue’s glorious thighs. Bonus points for Gambit’s conveniently torn uniform (and hairy chest). And Bonus points for Gambit’s perfect smirk! Again, noted that I’m highly biased...and I don’t care!

*runs away, fingers in ears*

03. X-MEN 92 #2 - PEPE LARRAZ. So here’s how much I love this cover...I don’t buy print comics any more (no room!) just digital and then trades for some stuff for my shelves. But for this I went out and bought a print copy. Had to have this in my hands. I love everything about it. Well, okay, in a PERFECT world Cassandra isn’t in the background, but everything else is perfection. The swooning, the love, the drama, even the little raven with the “heart” word balloon. LOVE IT. And no surprise really because Pepe Larraz is a hell of an artist who went on to draw a spectacular Rogue (and sometimes Gambit) in Uncanny Avengers!

02. ROGUE & GAMBIT #3 - KRIS ANKA. So...there are great, beautifully illustrated covers...and then there are great, beautifully illustrated covers that are also PERFECTLY CLEVER and instantly become iconic. That’s this one for me. As if a dozen versions of Gambit and Rogue weren’t fun enough, the heart shape they make... *kisses fingers* ...it’s perfection. I wish nothing more than us not having to put ANY text on this. I wish we could just send it out as is. Alas, no. And that is gonna knock it down JUST ENOUGH to NOT unseat the iconic classic. (But maybe issue #4 or #5 will??? We still have time!) :D

01. X-MEN #24 - ANDY KUBERT. It all comes down to this, as you knew it would. The classic cover that launched a thousand ships...or rather... CEMENTED them. It’s just gorgeous. It’s perfectly 90′s. It just BATHES in the nostalgia of classic Gambit and Rogue. it’s not afraid to cover up more than half the title block (YOU KNOW WHO THEY ARE, YOU DON’T NEED NO PESKY TITLE BLOCK!). That it rocks the most classic, well-known, and beloved looks for both of them only cements things further. And because they were still doing the “no touching dance” in these early days...their state of almost touching is just...PALPABLE. I’ll also say that though Rogue’s face gets the focus, Gambit is just really lovingly rendered too.

HOTT.

So. There you have it. My picks for the 20 Best Rogue & Gambit covers of all time.

Don’t forget to hit up your LCS on Wednesday 1/3/18 (or Comixology) for Rogue & Gambit #1 and keep reading to see if we (ahem, KRIS ANKA) can unseat the 20+ year title holder of “Best Rogue & Gambit Cover of All Time”

No pressure, Kris! :D

#Rogue #gambit #rogue and gambit #comics #best of #Comic covers

[taaroko]

Post-IW MCU Rewatch: Ant-Man

Yay, time for Ant-Man! This one has rather grown on me over the last couple of viewings (not that I ever didn’t like it).  

Hi middle-aged Peggy! (Isn’t it great how many times Hayley Atwell managed to get herself into these movies beyond what the original plan was, out of sheer enthusiasm? Yeah, I’m still bitter Agent Carter got cancelled.)

The music for the logo is awesome.

My killjoy brother says the main reason he dislikes this movie is that he doesn’t think it makes sense that Hank would ever trust some stranger (Scott) with his tech. Um. Hank has been protective of the tech because he doesn’t want it to be abused. But Scott proved he wasn’t a corporate goon by going to prison for screwing over a corrupt corporation. He’s proven himself. Also he doesn’t have the knowledge to make more of the particles, so he can’t steal any of the secrets himself. 

Luis is probably my favorite sidekick in the whole MCU. He’s irrepressibly cheerful, he compulsively makes delicious-looking waffles, he’s a refined wine man and fan of neo-cubism yet also steals two smoothie machines, and when he goes into ramble mode it’s the greatest thing ever.

Anyone who has ever worked food service has met an idiot like Scott’s customer. Also his boss is basically David Brent. Trying way too hard to be cool, but kind of a git and a coward.

Scott’s attitude is super endearing. Very chill, understated reactions to things that annoy him. You get the impression that it’s not so much that he’s a very patient man as that he’s just so used to stuff like Luis’s antics that he’s become kind of inured to it. He’s also able to roll with the punches. Getting fired from Baskin Robbins could’ve made him bitter and angry, but instead he just kind of shrugs and takes that Mango Fruit Blast. He’s not prideful at all. 

I called the tank being real by the second time the keychain appeared onscreen. Chekhov’s Tank!

Hello, Darren Cross, dude who is only not the worst MCU villain because Malekith exists. (How did Malekith manage to have less of a personality than Darren? It’s absurd.)

The ad video for the Yellowjacket is horrifying. Do people actually make ad videos for advanced weaponry? Do they narrate them with movie narrator voices and tidy up the diction to make them sound like wonderful good pieces of technology, but in a not-entirely-convincing way?

How is a hand on a shoulder such a sinister and obvious sign of impending murder?

Cassie is the most adorable little girl ever, and the kid playing her is a really good actress. I love that Scott is a dad. It makes him much more interesting. (Also is he the only divorcé in the entire MCU? Wait no, May is too. I think he’s the only one in the movies, though.)

“He’s so ugly! I LOVE HIM!” AAAAGH. SO CUTE.

I love that all the little details keep coming back. (The tank, the “La Cucaracha” horn.” Just lots of really good callbacks. It’s hard to believe this movie had production issues with changing directors.)

The way Darren kills that guy by shrinking him, and then wipes him up and flushes him, is ridiculously horrific. And the way he looks in the mirror after that is probably the most interesting he ever is in the movie. He knows the path he’s going down, and he’s not stopping.

So it’s not entirely clear. Is Hope dating Darren? Are they living together? Or are they just business partners? I’m confused.

YES LUIS STORY TIME. This is like Kid History, and it’s my favorite thing. Please please please make an MCU recap narrated by Luis, Marvel.

This music is weird and fun. I love it.

Scott parkouring is great. I wonder why he developed that skillset when he was just an electrical engineer. Has he been doing it since he was a kid?

Scott is like the midpoint between Tony Stark and Peter Quill in almost every way. Good at outside-the-box solutions, has engineering skills (but not at Tony’s level), a sense of humor that’s more self-deprecating than Tony’s but less wide-eyed dorky than Peter’s, etc. That’s awesome.

Could you be more transparently evil than using a bleating white lamb for your ill-fated lab experiments?

Huh. There’s a moment where Scott looks in the mirror too. Is that meant to be a contrast with when Darren does it? For Scott, it’s a moment where he resigns himself to failing, even though he caved and did the burglary. I don’t really see the connection, emotionally, to the way Darren looked in the mirror, but I guess one of them is the apprentice Hank rejected, and the other is the apprentice he ultimately chose. *shrug*

Ant-Man perspective is great. The encounter with the rat is terrifying.

You broke Scott’s chill, Hank!

Okay, so Scott’s actual superpower is changing his clothes at the speed of light. It was entirely unnecessary for them to give him such a small interval of time to get the suit on.

“What happens if I throw up in this helmet?”

There were zero bullet ants on the floor in the initial wide shot of the room. Also in the second wide shot. Which takes place two seconds before Scott tries to put his foot on the floor. Did they...forget to render ants in those shots? Or did they forget there were going to be ants there when they filmed from that angle? Gonna count that one as a mistake, because they could not have gotten all over the floor that fast.

They really needed to do more to explain about Darren’s brain chemistry getting messed up by the particles, because as far as I can tell, the first time he ever shrinks himself is on the helicopter at the end. How do these particles make him evil/crazy, exactly? What was he like before? What have the particles done to Hank?

Also they shouldn’t have explained the particles as changing “atomic relative distance” without also explaining that the suit allows you to control your weight relative to size. Because sometimes Ant-Man appears to weigh as much as he looks like he should, but the rest of the time, he’s clearly still 180 lbs in that tiny space (with the reverse problem when he becomes Giant-Man). If he always weighed 180 lbs while being the size of an ant, he would constantly punch through surfaces by walking on them, and if he was always the weight of an ant, he’d be powerless to do anything except be sneaky.

The montages in this movie are great.

Scott uses Hope’s move later. :D And she was totally checking him out.

Huh. Hope and Scott’s conversation in the car happens exactly halfway through the movie, and it’s the turning point. This is when they start being on the same team.

Hank’s revelation about Janet comes rather out of nowhere. I feel like they could’ve woven that in more effectively. It’s also a little exposition-heavy to entirely work on the emotional level.

This gesture by Scott is one of the best things.

I love the crossovers. Crossovers forever! (Seriously, put Thor cameos in future GotG movies and Loki cameos in future Doctor Strange movies. No, I don’t for a second believe Loki is really dead.)

Poor Sam. He missed out on Sokovia just to get trolled by this rando in a shrinking suit.

Hope saw Scott use her move! Hee!

Sinister hand on shoulder!

Okay, Hope’s “I’m at home” line is why I was confused about whether she and Darren were dating and living together. But it occurs to me now that there’s not really an implication that it’s his home too. So I think they’re just business partners. Good. Because Darren being double-crossed by his girlfriend and failing to react on that level would have made him a much worse character than he already was.

Seriously love Luis, and the other two guys are great too. Excellent crew of wombats.

I love the wallpaper in Hank’s house. Also, just, all of Hank’s house. It’s so pretty.

Okay I absolutely believe that Luis was the only guy to ever knock out that huge dude from the prison. He’s been knocking people out with single punches left and right on this job so far. I love him even more now! That’s such a cool little bit of consistency for him.

Is it true that cops use Crown Victorias as their undercover cars most often? Because I’ve kind of assimilated that as real-life trivia ever since theaters.

What was the point of frying the servers if they were just going to shrink the building to nothing anyway?

Kurt and Tip are hilarious. “There was a black guy who looked exactly like me who attacked us and put us in the back of this disgusting van!”

So if the Avengers have spent the last year taking down Hydra facilities, how are there still people in Hydra who can spend billions for Yellowjacket suits?

I thought Hank was going to die the first time I saw this. Now I’m betting this will be a How to Train Your Dragon situation with Ant-Man and the Wasp, where not long after we discover the long-lost mom, the dad gets killed.

Darren’s villain music is the best thing about him. It’s very unnerving.

All the fights while Scott’s in the suit are so much fun to watch.

“Are we the good guys? Feels kinda weird.”

I don’t like that the chain attachment on the tank also gets huge. And how does a tank cushion a three-storey drop?

That Darren is able to shoot ants is very silly and weird. Would’ve worked better if there was buckshot or something. But still. This movie made me care about an ant dying.

Dangit, Darren, you just killed everyone else in the chopper. You suck.

Briefcase fight! I remember how hard everyone laughed when “Disintegration” started playing in theaters. So great.

All the abrupt cuts from epic to insignificantly small are what make these fights so funny and awesome.

Bug zapper! I watched this with my dad recently (his first time seeing it) and he laughed so hard at the bug zapper.

Another tased Avenger!

So I thought this movie was going to be stupid, right up until the trailer got to the bit with Thomas the Tank Engine. Then I knew it was going to be amazing. It’s still probably my favorite moment in the whole movie.

They kinda overdid it with the “back it up” bit.

Giant ant! Poor Paxton.

Did anyone not see it coming from the moment Hank talked about going sub-atomic that Scott was going to have to do it at the end?

The infinite shrink is mesmerizing to look at. I bet this movie was cool in 3-D. (I have glasses, so 3-D is not so fun.)

Hi Janet!

The bottom half of that face in the photo actually looks kinda like Michelle Pfeiffer’s face. Nice work!

Hahaha, I love that Cassie kept the ant as a dog.

MORE STORIES FROM LUIS! The way he blinks too many times after he finishes is what really clinches it.

So yeah, I like me a heist movie, and it was definitely a brilliant decision on Marvel’s part to go small (figuratively and literally) with the next movie after Ultron. It is a mistake to think you always have to escalate your threats in a series. That was the problem for a while with Supernatural, and it’s definitely a problem in shows like Dragonball Z and Naruto too. Ant-Man was the perfect way to scale back and remind us that these movies are a ton of fun. I’m so glad that they did the same thing with the scheduling of Infinity War and Ant-Man and the Wasp, and I can’t wait for July 6.

I really hope Ant-Man and the Wasp does the same thing Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 did, and goes deeper with the characters instead of just getting bigger in scope. Because Ant-Man is one of the more surface-level movies in the MCU. Scott doesn’t really carry a lot of angst, so even though his arc is about proving he can be the hero Cassie sees him as, it’s pretty chill, with just a couple of moments where he loses...hope...(dang it) in his ability to make this work and be the dad he wants to be.

The bigger emotional arc was Hank and Hope, because Hope absolutely carries her angst and bitterness in a big way. They’re kind of a representation of what Scott and Cassie could end up being if Scott doesn’t get his crap together. And Darren is an evil parallel for Scott, obviously. All of the different arcs probably would’ve worked better if they’d spent enough time and effort on Darren to make him interesting. But the lack of depth in all of the arcs doesn’t ruin the movie because it’s a comedy. This is deliberately a light, fun comedy action movie, and it’s great.

Also it has a good and memorable soundtrack, so bonus points.

#ant-man #scott lang #hank pym #hope pym #mcu rewatch #Infinity War spoilers #marvel

[welcometojoelsvoid]

My ocs explained: Voidverse

A friend of mine asked me to tell about my ocs, and since there a lot of them and this will be long and tumblr messages won't let me send the whole thing, so I decided to make a post dedicated to it.

This post won't have pictures of my ocs because I'm lazy, but if you're interested there's a tab on my blog called "My characters", which has their pictures and their tags.

So, to get the more complicated things cleared out, I have this group of characters I call the "alts", basically, they're alternate versions of myself. One is always based on an aspect of my personality, which I then turn into said alt. A new one is usually born whenever I make one for a new fandom or universe.

Ps. This isn't all of them, there are a few minor characters and wips that I left out because this would become waaayyyy longer than needed. These characters belong in a group I call the "Voidverse", which are the characters that I consider to be the main characters of this storyline (some of my ocs live in different realms and realities, etc). I might make another oc megapost about the other verses if you guys want.

~~~~~~~

Classic the Demon (he/him), 24

My "main" alt, who is also my persona on the internet is called Classic the Demon (they all have nicknames since most of them usually share my name). Classic is kinda the leader of the alts, he's the one who usually gets to join a new verse if I haven't made a new alt specifically for that verse.

Classic's powers include telekinesis, teleportation, offensive spells and the summoning of a weapon (in this case; a sword) and a pair of wings. Classic has this so-called "pocket dimension" that he accesses via his magic. This dimension is where he stores a bunch of random stuff from clothing to food to sketchbooks. Also, because he's so extra, whenever he summons his sword he kinda swipes his right hand from left to right once while his sword materializes from dark energy, just for dramatic flair.

Like most demons, Classic is also capable of collecting souls through contracts, though Classic had "retired" from doing said contracts.

Classic was born in a Renaissance-era like time period in a small hidden village of demons. The village was very small with only a few houses and a post office. Classic's family consisted of Classic himself, his mother and father. Although his father had left when Classic was an infant for an unknown reason. Therefore Classic was solely raised by his mother.

Classic's only friends in the village was another boy his age named Eemeli and a person called "the Guard". The Guard lived at the edge of the small town, whose job was to protect it from the dangers of the grand forest right next to them. Classic looked up to the Guard, for she was one of the strongest people he knew. His favourite memory of her was when she fought a bear with her bare hands.

Eemeli, on the other hand, was an adventures child much like Classic, though not as reckless. He had a family of two (2) parents and four (4) siblings.

(But of course, because this is a character made by yours truly, there is a lot of edge and angst)

At the age of 13, Classic's village was attacked by a troupe of human soldiers. They burned the houses and slaughtered the people. With the help of his mother, he had survived. Classic had passed out during the attack and once he woke up he couldn't believe his eyes. Everything was destroyed and burnt to the ground, including the people he held so near and dear to his heart. Classic didn't know what to do, so he wandered aimlessly until he reached a town of humans. Traumatised and blinded by hate, he killed everyone and anyone he saw and when he reached the castle he stabbed the king to death with a dagger that had appeared in his hands, which would later on, as he got older, form into the dark sword that it is today.

Classic was "rescued" by a group of angels and was brought into their home in the sky. No, not heaven, but a floating island. He hadn't told them exactly what happened, not that he was all that able to because of the shock of it all. Though the angels did not press on the subject, clearly aware of his discomfort.

The family he was living with had one (1) child, Ale, a pink haired angel with greenish eyes. The two of them instantly became close friends and through that friendship considered each other siblings. Growing up in a community of angels as a demon was tough, but most of them were very accepting of Classic.

Though, with time he became restless. He wanted to go somewhere, do something. But he didn't know where nor what.

At the age of 19, Classic and Ale packed their bags and went to see the world. And through this adventure, they became face to face with Death, literally. On their adventure, Ale had been hurt severally and Classic in desperation tried with all his might to help them. He turned to soul stealing harvesting and contract work to earn currency, souls paid well with witches and faeries. Unfortunately, he couldn't earn enough in time or get any help. Ale had died of sickness and Classic ever since blamed himself.

His journey alone took him to many places, but he was always alone. Until he met a certain someone, but more about that later.

Classic himself is a cocky yet charming personality, not really in love with himself but absolutely adores praise and loves being in the spotlight (when he wants to, otherwise attention from a lot of people make him anxious). He's the one I made the most like myself, so ultimately he has the same issues; depression, anxiety, ADD and sociopathic tendencies. Of course, pretty much every alt have more or less these traits, some show them more, some don't.

He's a loyal friend and cares for his loved ones, good with a sword and has good problem-solving skills and critical thinking, but he lacks the sense of responsibility sometimes and gets very paranoid about not being good enough. He's very forgetful and has a hard time understanding complex things like math, geology and physics but has a talent for arts, language and philosophy. He's not in touch with his owns feelings but can tell when someone else is upset, anxious or lying. He's very unused to affection and compliments, often deeming himself not worthy of them but tries his best to stay positive.

Jojo (he/they), 23

Jojo is an easily excitable and reckless half-dead demon living in a post-apocalyptic setting. Jojo doesn't have magical abilities, though, they lost them alongside his horns and tail after committing suicide before he was brought back to life.

He likes brights colours, stuffed animals, motorcycles and most importantly; explosives.

Jojo had lost a part of their hearing and vision to a malfunctioning bomb, had been lucky that in a tight spot the last of his magical ability had protected all but a small portion of the side of his head, face and neck.

His left leg was lost in a fight. Jojo had seen a young girl being kidnapped, followed the kidnappers and fought them, rescuing the kidnapped children and losing his leg to an axe. This had happened before the war.

Even in crude conditions, Jojo believes that positivity can get you through anything. His blatant naïtivity can often cause him to trust the wrong people but make no mistake, Jojo is no fool and can quickly regain his composure and build up his walls. Jojo is a very social person and can easily get along with anyone, although can sometimes get a tad too excited and accidentally say and do something rather awkward. They always try to make up for hurt feeling, tough. Jojo is also big on taking risks and can often put themselves in dangerous situations.

As mentioned previously Jojo is a bomb fanatic and loves explosives and explosions. He taught himself to make his own bombs and frag launcher, many of which malfunctioned in various ways.

He doesn't remember much about his childhood, his memory fading alongside the scars on his body. He just remembers having a good family and he's fine with that. Jojo is also one of the only alts who drinks and smokes (they smoke pot, don't like cigarettes much). He's overall a pretty chill dude when he's not jumping from place to place and blowing stuff up.

He's also the one who shows the most clearly symptoms of ADHD.

He's a smart boy who's a bit clumsy sometimes.

A wholesome boy. A very sweet boy.

Invite him to every party because he's never been to one but really wants to. Good with kids, animals and knows how to make broccoli taste good. (Not good with elders and other fragile things that break easily)

10/10

282-J aka J/Jay (they/them), 22

282-J, the one that is actually not even a demon. 

J's power is "teleportation" via light. They can turn themselves into light particles and move a few meters to the direction of their choosing. So J cannot use this power in places without some kind of light source, though the illumination of a phone or TV, etc, is not enough. J also cannot move through solid matter, like walls and doors.

 J was born into "captivity" in a science lab (Oh, yes, it's "science labs are evil" trope time!). This science lab was fixated on mutants and mutation, so I relate J to the Marvel universe (because X-Men).

From birth J had lived in that facility, being experimented on every single day. Some weren't bad, like seeing how long of a distance J can teleport for example, but some are excruciating, as when J would go days without being fed or being locked in a dark and tight room for weeks, even months! It all took its toll on J's fragile body.

Once the lab crew injected an adrenaline type drug into J's bloodstream and locked him in a small room for three (3) days straight, when a staff member was sent to retrieve J's seemingly passed out body, they had bitten into the man's arm and in response got an elbow to the chest. J coughed up blood and couldn't breathe, actually passing out this time. When J woke up they were in their own room; padded, white walls and the one-way glass in front. J felt their own breath on their face and when J reached to touch their own face, they felt what seemed like a gas mask of sorts and tried to fumble with it to take it off. The voice from the speakers told that the gas mask had two (2) benefits; it restrained J from biting the staff again and it kept J, themselves, alive. Apparently one of J's lungs had received a lot of damage from the incident and the lab crew could not entirely fix it, so a special gas mask would have to do.

J is very timid and does not speak often nor raise their voice. They're very awkward in social situations and get overwhelmed by large groups of people and loud noises. Though J can be brave and courageous when they want to and they're also a quick thinker and rather clever.

Cappy the Capricorn (she/her), 300+

Ah, yes, Cappy the Capricorn- or Cappy the Zodiac demon. The one person you wouldn't invite to your family gatherings.

She is a Zodiac demon and her powers focus mostly on controlling the water element. Another skill of her's is knowing how to cut her own hair using seashells and other sharp objects found on the seafloor. She's a very calm person with a professional-seeming personality, but she can be a bit "inappropriate", so to say.

She's a siren-like creature and when underwater her legs turn into a fishtail. She very much enjoys tricking unsuspecting men into their tombs and seducing women into sleeping with her, though to the fair lass she shall do no harm (In other words; she's a lesbian). Her magic is very powerful, but she isn't a fighter- she doesn't want to waste her time on petty brawling. Although if not left alone when asked, she won't hesitate to use violence as her saviour.

Unfortunately, there isn't much to tell about her background, for it does not exist because I am a lazy sonovabitch who doesn't think through their characters' backstories.

But Cappy is not really that much of a "macho sex object with no personality" (I hope), for in actuality she's a real softy. She's all smooth and clever in seduction and all that sexy stuff, but when a cute girl compliments her, she blushes like crazy and gets all flustered. If she ever would develop a crush on some poor soul, that poor soul would have to deal with a very nervous and stuttering mountain sea goat.

From 1 to 10 I'd rate Cappy a 5/10 on the friendship scale. Not that she's an evil person or whatever, she just doesn't know how to properly act around people (living at the bottom of the sea for hundreds of years will do that to ya, I suppose...). She, however, is very supportive and helpful whenever the people she considers her friends are having a hard time (especially about their own appearance, she ain't having none of it).

The Voidkeeper (she/they), ???

The Voidkeeper, the eldest one- mostly because their age cannot be comprehended for it simultaneously does and does not exist.

The Voidkeeper is half-blind, half-death and selectively mute. She is also a sociopath and does not feel empathy nor sympathy (or feelings, at all).

And most important, they are dead. I mean no heartbeat, rotten insides, dried out blood kind of dead.

She was banished to what is called the Void when she committed suicide. See, demons cannot be killed, only trapped in artefacts or returned to the Underworld, but a demon has the ability to take their own life, but it is not without punishment. When a demon commits suicide they are banished and assigned to a task which they will carry out for the rest of eternity. This one was assigned to look after the Void, a fruitless task for it is empty and barren. The only thing that happens is that every millennia a new book appears in the Void to give some sort of entertainment to the Voidkeeper.

On very rare occasion a poor soul might accidentally either wander or be sent to the Void and it is the Voidkeeper's duty then forward to guide the wanderer where they were supposed to go. Every time something, or someone, appears in the Void the Voidkeeper is alerted by the soul stone they carry. This stone, as prompted by the name, is in a way the Voidkeeper's soul, which they cannot ever regain. It is their life source and their source of power. The Voidkeeper is not allowed to ever be violent, so the soul stone only grants them defensive powers. In this case the ability to heal and create protective forcefields.

The Voidkeeper cannot physically ever enter the realm of the living, but with the aide of someone very powerful, they are granted to walk amongst the living as a ghost of sorts. They, however, cannot be touched by the living.

The Voidkeeper is very silent and intelligent. They know more than you'd expect, but will never tell you what you want to know. Only what you need to know, which in itself is not much. She prefers to observe others as they go about their life whenever she isn't reading, other than that there isn't much to her.

Inquisitor Lotus Draqon (he/him), 23.5

The alt for the da:i fandom and my most recent alt.

He's very peculiar in the sense that he was born from the merged souls of Classic and a dragon called Jupiter. No one is sure how this happened but one-day Classic had disappeared. It took a long time to find where he was and the answer was very surprising.

Now with his soul living in as in another person's body, Classic was trapped in a frozen state in another pocket dimension with Jupiter. This meant that as long as Lotus was intact or alive, Classic would not himself be present and neither would Jupiter.

Classic's soul gave Lotus many of the abilities that he himself has, telekinesis, illusion magic, weapon and wing summoning, etc. And Lotus as a person is fairly similar to Classic, some of the differences being Lotus' dragon attributes; his scales, tail, the sword is rather different, bigger horns and bigger wings (and a bigger appetite).

Lotus is also more innocent leaning and shyer. And unlike Classic, isn't such a good swordsman (he gets better with time tho).

Similarly to Classic, Lotus isn't very independent and often depends a lot on the people around him for help and advice. They both also have a giant sweet tooth and love animals. And they both stutter, have trouble pronouncing some words and have motor and verbal ticks (whenever Lotus yawns, burps, gets excited, happy or is frightened he goes "woof!", Classic just makes weird demon noises. Their motor ticks are pretty much the same, twitchy hands, neck and whole damn body).

Though Lotus is more prone to seek out simulation, tapping his claws against a table, playing with his hair and tail and pressing his toe beans. Classic mostly plays with his hair and his shirt sometimes. Also because of dyslexia, they both often have jumbled words when speaking, though with Lotus it's stronger and for him, reading is harder. Lotus is more willing to take risks and go out on an adventure, he has very strong legs and wings that can carry him for hours. And in general Lotus' health is better than Classic's, he's learned to cope with his problems better and cares for himself more.

Also, laser pointers totally work on him.

~~~~~~~

Now, let's get to the other characters in my verse.

Katy Huerta (she/her), 38-41

A retired Special Task Force agent called back on the field after suspicious and unknown signals had started appearing out of nowhere. They were most likely of a supernatural origin and agent Huerta was assigned on the job. Katy is a skilled and headstrong woman with experience with supernatural forces. As a young child, her body is shared by her and a power fire spirit. She can control fire and use it as a weapon, as well as turn into fire herself.

Turns out that classic had been causing waves of magic which turned to signals as he made his way to this world and travelled around it. At the time he was 19 years old. Katy wasn't sure how to approach him as she found him walking around abandoned buildings but she knew she couldn't kill or arrest him, he hadn't done anything wrong. So she took him in. Taught him, mentored him, took care of him. Katy doesn't have much knowledge about magic but she taught him how to use his sword, how to use his mind and how to use his heart. Classic would follow her around like a puppy, mostly because HQ didn't fully trust a demon to walk around by himself. They respected Katy a great deal, but we're very unsure of this decision. Katy didn't care, though, she was sure. Katy's heart is as big as her muscles and just as strong, she never gave up on that boy and she's glad she didn't. She found a lifelong friend and a trusted partner. She was like a mother to him.

Katy is what I like to call the "bridger", she's usually the bridge between the different universes and dimensions. I gave her full knowledge of the different alts, what they are and what they mean. Whenever there's a new alt, she informs the others and looks over the new one, deciding whether or not they should be cautious and stay away or if they can be invited to the "inner circle".

The day when Classic had his soul transferred and himself trapped was something Katy wasn't sure how to take action, she had no idea who "Lotus" was and what kind of alt they were (you can never know, even the nice sounding ones can be mean and the world they live in might not be able to handle Katy's presence). She took a risk and bridged into the world of Thedas to handle the situation.

Coraline Daniel (she/her), 65.5

The pretty typical vampire oc, I'd say.

Coraline is a carefree soul who enjoys being a mysterious shadow in the back of people's minds. One day she's here, another day she's gone. She doesn't burn in the sunlight but her powers weaken a lot, which includes mind control, teleportation and flight.

A true lady and a primadonna; never settles for second best, Coraline is a beauty and rarity and uses it to her advantage. Many people are slow to notice she's already sucking the blood out of their veins, her victims helplessly falling into her traps and under her spell. 

All except one.

Agent Katy Huerta; the STF's favourite puppet; a saviour; a righteous knight; a woman of high regard and the only one to catch Coraline's eye. She had been assigned to search for the reason behind recent murders (Coraline's doing, of course) and had successfully tracked the culprit down. Coraline was surprised that her normal tactics hadn't worked and this piqued her interest. Ever since their first meeting, they seemed to bump into each other quite often. It was a classic game of cat and mouse, with a lot more flirting though. And they both seemed to enjoy it.

Coraline could never trap her and she could never catch Coraline in return. Neither of them wanted to. Or did, but the meaning behind it had changed.

Katy would track the vampire to her next destination, catch her red-handed, they'd fight, steal kisses in between and Katy would watch her disappear into the night. It became routine, tradition. Routine was broken when Katy asked her for a date before she could run off again, caught by surprise but regaining composure Coraline accepted. Katy brought her a silver ring as a gift to their date, it was a simple gesture that meant something more to them both.

Akachi (they/them), 12

Akachi was found in Western-Africa, alone and unconscious in a cryochamber at an old hospital. The child was in a deep coma and appeared to have lizard-like attributes. Files showed that they were there because of an illness that threatened to take their life, but nothing else could be recovered.

The STF team took them back to America to take care of them, but no one was sure what should be done. Should they be given up for adoption? Surely that couldn't be safe for the child. Luckily STF's golden girl Katy Huerta stepped up to take care of the child, adopting them. The child's name is Akachi, was what she was told, they were found abandoned and appear to be intersex. And so the child was given in to her care. Once home, Classic had been very curious about the child. They decided to take care of Akachi together.

Back then Akachi had been just 4 years old and they didn't appear to have any memories before the hospital, so adapting wasn't the most difficult thing. Akachi is a gentle soul and a very curious child, very imaginative. Akachi was placed in a special program when starting school, normal school being a distant thought but they got there eventually.

Akachi is very excited about new things, very excited to learn and experience things. Although Katy tries to keep them away from tough adventures, sometimes by accident a certain demon cannot resist the puppy-eyes. Akachi is all too happy to meet new people, they always dream of having a big family and they do consider the alts to be family.

Elizabeth Hart aka Wolfy Heart (she/her), 27

Quite literally my oldest oc, I'm fairly sure that Wolfy was the first oc that I ever made and she's come such a long way since then.

Wolfy is the daughter of a rich German family, not that it matters but I'm just laying down random facts at this point, she grew up fairly similarly to everyone else though, she wasn't spoiled and her parents were very good at parenting and were decent people.

Wolfy is a very motherly person and takes care of her friends a lot, she loves socialising and cooking and is very good at playing the harp. She's very curious and blushes easily, she's very modest. She likes spending time with animals and children and is very creative and fashionable. She's compassionate and wants what's best for everyone, she's a little naïve in that sense.

Wolfy had been good friends with Katy (through a mutual friend) even before Classic came around. And Wolfy was more than happy to welcome him with open arms and warm cupcakes! Wolfy's also like an aunt to Akachi who she also welcomed with open arms and warm cupcakes.

Idk dudes I love Wolfy, she's been there for me through many years and seen some shit, she's amazing, she sometimes makes her own clothes and really likes turtles.

Quality werewolf, would bark again

Katja Storm aka Kstorm (mostly she/they but he is also fine), 30

Kstorm is also a very old character of mine (like Wolfy and Katy), she's been through many changes and I'm finally happy with where she is!

Kstorm is the oldest of (3) three children, she's half Spanish half Korean and she's a DJ and quite enjoys making music. I imagine her style is similar to Porter Robinson but maybe a bit more bass heavy (I just love Porter Robinson y'all)

She's dating a girl named Kayna (Kstorm calls her Kaykay uwu), who's best friends with Wolfy and by correlation, she got invited to the Cool Kids club B)

Kstorm herself is a witch and when Classic came around she got pretty excited (but like low-key, cuz she's cool like that), tbh Kstorm was a big help with assisting Classic to handle and control his magic. While Katy is very agitated about spreading the knowledge about bridging and the alts, but she trusts this group of people.

Kstorm doesn't go on adventures or jump through dimensions much, too busy working but she asks to get herbs and cool artefacts and talismans whenever the others do go.

Kstorm is a cool and collected person, she doesn't like drama and doesn't want to make a big deal out of things, especially if it isn't. She went to medical school to become a nurse before turning into a fulltime DJ and she often puts together charity events at the club she performs at. She's generally loved by her community, though there has been drama and people trying to ruin her name. She lost some of her fans after coming out as genderfluid and pansexual but regained a large following of very supportive followers and fans.

Taika (they/them), ???

Taika is a tall, cat-like forest spirit who came from a very monochrome and old realm, they came to the human realm to experience colour, loudness and life for what it could be.

They don't have a mouth (or nose) so they can't speak and when they were born their limbs were deformed so now they have prosthetic arms and legs (luckily the forest spirits are pretty handy).

Taika is a very innocent and optimistic creature, very curious about humans and other beings.

Taika especially loves a lot of what humans have created and relishes in their culture with loud music, dyed hair, ripped jeans and technology.

Now, Taika doesn't really belong in the Voidverse, but I love them so much that I had to mention them cuz they're literally so precious.

#classic the demon ((joel)) #jojo ((joel)) #282 ((joel)) #cappy the capricorn ((joel)) #the voidkeeper ((joel)) #lotus dragon ((joel)) #everyone's mom ((katy)) #your sexy problematic fave ((coraline)) #reptile child ((akachi)) #she's a pony ((kstorm)) #sweet cinnamon child ((taika)) #oc #ocs #my characters #voidverse #jojowritesthings

[rkfstudio]

Top Ten Comic Characters of All Time (according to me)

Introduction/disclaimer:

This list is mine and is based on my personal and subjective criteria. My choices are based on what I have read in comics as opposed to other media. For instance, one of my favorite superheroes, Squirrel Girl, is not on this list because I have read next to none of her comics and my love of the character is based almost exclusively on her concept and her appearances in other media.

Also, some people might want to fault me and my list for a lack of “inclusiveness” or “representation” or whatever. Full disclosure: I’m a straight white dude and I tend to relate most to the straight white dude characters that have historically dominated the comics world. Thus, I’m more likely to be drawn to stories about those characters. I do not apologize for my tastes. If they radically differ from yours, feel free to make your own list and tell me why you like the characters you like. That would be awesome.

Finally, there are half a dozen characters outside this Top Ten that could jump into it at any moment. This list represents my Top Ten at the time I wrote this and is subject to change.

Still with me? Cool! Here we go!

 10. Wolverine

               Most people would put Logan aka James Howlett aka the Wolverine much higher on their lists, and I completely understand why. He is “the best he is at what he does” ™ and is one of the most complex and interesting characters in comics. He also, until his death a couple of years ago, was perhaps the most overexposed character in all of comics. He’s a down to earth guy who mostly just wants to be left alone, but neither the comic world nor the comic industry is willing to give him a break. With a cool and dark backstory and super cool powers, he’s one of the legitimate badasses in the Marvel universe.

9. Blue Beetle/Jaime Reyes

               “What is this blasphemy?! Jaime Reyes ranked higher than Mr. Snikt?!” Yes. This is my list and I say Jaime gets a higher spot.

Hear me out on this. Beetle gets this spot on my list mainly due to his introductory arc during DC’s “One Year Later” event and his recent “Rebirth” run. Both runs are well written with great character interaction and dialogue. Jaime’s just a regular high school kid who also happens to be a superhero. Not the most original concept (*cough* Spider-Man! *cough*) but he pulls it off in what feels like a fresh way. It also doesn’t hurt that he was a show stealer in his recurring role in the “Batman: The Brave and the Bold” cartoon a few years ago. But his comics just shine to me.

8. Batman

               More controversy! Batman is only at number 8! I realize most people place him much higher because he’s one of the more relatable members of DC’s top-flight heroes in that he’s just a man in a world of gods. For me, he suffers from the same kind of overexposure that Wolverine has had over the years. I also don’t tend to find him as interesting as the characters he deals with, whether his allies or his rogues' gallery. He’s a darker, more brooding Iron Man (I realize Batman came first, but I think the comparison is still valid). I find him at his best when he’s forced to play with others, especially Superman, because the tension between the “solitary crimefighter” and the “super team” dynamics can be so fun. Recommended reading includes the Justice miniseries by Alex Ross and Co. and the Justice League: Lightning Saga story arc.

7. Captain Marvel/Shazam!

               For the five of you that are still reading, this entry might be the last straw. Bear with me. Batman is the dark, brooding hero of the night. Captain Marvel (or Shazam for those willing to give up the ghost of Fawcett Comics) is the polar opposite of that: he is bright, colorful, and full of whimsy. Whimsy and wonder are both things that are in short supply in this post-Watchmen comics world, and that’s a shame. It’s that harkening back to the core of how comics began that is a large part of his appeal to me. Interestingly enough, it’s a couple of his more recent stories that have made me love him as a character. Jeff Smith, of Bone fame, wrote an origin miniseries for Captain Marvel called Shazam and the Monster Society of Evil and it’s wonderful. Also recommended is his part in the previously mentioned Justice series.

6. Captain America

               This is a more conventional pick. Cap makes this list for similar reasons to the previous Captain on this list: he represents the values and sentiments of a bygone age. In particular, his refusal to compromise his beliefs regardless of the personal cost is a breath of fresh air and too seldom seen anymore. Leader, soldier, champion of liberty, that’s Cap. Look up his run in the New Avengers series up through the Civil War arc to see exactly what I’m talking about.

Also, Hydra Cap never happened. Just no.

5. Joker

               You know how the last two choices were upstanding, almost squeaky-clean citizens?

              Yeah, good times.

              For someone completely different, Number Five gives us the Joker. He is, bar none, the most fascinating supervillain ever, responsible for some of the most twisted moments in mainstream comics. Jason Todd? That was the Joker. Barbara Gordon? Yep, that was him, too. Harley Quinn? Mistah J says, “You’re welcome.” The Joker is sick, twisted, and downright evil, and he embraces it like no other. Sometimes, a villain isn’t misunderstood; sometimes a villain is just a villain. And the Joker does “villain” with a style all his own. Required reading includes the Justice series (can you tell I like this series? I do.), the Dark Knight Returns, and, of course, The Killing Joke.

4. Superman

               Honestly, I thought Supes would be higher on my list. He’s the first superhero and still, to me at least, one of the best. I realize most folks find him to be too powerful to be relatable, and there’s no small amount of validity to that point. But the best part of this character isn’t his ability to punch planets out of orbit or “leap tall buildings” or any of that. It’s his... well, his character. That middle-America farmer’s son upbringing, with its sense of right and wrong that has so seldom failed him, is what makes Superman more than just the Last Son of Krypton. To borrow from Kingdom Come, it’s the “man” more than the “super” that makes him special. It’s what makes him a symbol of virtue and excellence, a standard to which we can aspire. It’s Clark Kent, rather than Kal-El, that I want to be like. Some good reading includes the aforementioned Kingdom Come, The Superman/Batman Supergirl arc (this is actually a good Batman read, as well) and, you guessed it, Justice.

3. Hellboy

               Sadly, this is the only non-Big-Two character on my list. For now. I’m just starting to branch out so future lists might have more.

               Anyway, Hellboy makes the list because he isn’t what you’d expect him to be. The son of a major league demon and destined to bring about the apocalypse, he should be an earth-shattering villain. But he’s a hero because of his upbringing by a paranormal expert. Nurture triumphing over Nature. The monster as the hero. Also, he’s just a fun character and his stories are good stuff. Of particular note, mainly because this is what I’ve read, is the recent Hellboy and the BPRD 1950s series.

2. Rocket Raccoon

               If you’ve read this far, this pick really shouldn’t surprise you. Sometimes, we want heroes to inspire us to be better people.  Sometimes, we just want a raccoon with a big flarkkin’ gun. Rocket’s recent string of short series, both solo and with Groot, are just fun reading.

1. Hulk

               This was the one pick I didn’t need to think about; Hulk was at Number One from the start. The concept of a super smart guy who turns into a raging monster when he loses his cool resonates with me on an intensely personal level. While he has had quite a few strange turns in his comics history, the big guy really came into his own during the Planet Hulk series, where he was shot into space by his best “friends” to a planet full of enemies and dangers that only the Hulk could survive. His development from monster to gladiator to fugitive to king, and then to vengeful conqueror in the following World War Hulk, is one of my favorite arcs in all of comics. Whether big and kind of dumb or big and super smart or somewhere in between like in the stories I’ve mentioned, Hulk is my Number One comic character of all time. At least until the next time.

                So, that’s my list. But what’s a list like this without some honorable mentions?

Honorable Mentions:

12. Rorschach

               This is the obligatory Watchmen pick. While I don’t like the story, I appreciate the historical impact it’s had on the comics industry. Rorschach is the only character that I can call anything close to a “good guy” despite his extreme homicidal tendencies. His refusal to go along with the alien invasion story covering Ozymandias’s murder of millions of people “so billions might live”, his refusal to accept the lesser evil, shows an integrity that is perhaps outdated but no less laudable for being outdated.

13. Renee Montoya/the Question

               The first woman on this list and it’s neither Wonder Woman nor fan-favorite Kitty Pryde. Renee Montoya is, to me, a more interesting character than either, mostly because she’s very flawed. She’s rough around the edges; she drinks to excess; she has doubts about her abilities and her value as a detective. I gather most of this info from her run in DC’s 52 series, which is a great read on its own.

16. Lex Luthor

               This guy.

               This guy right here.

               He’s the stereotypical “evil businessman” and yet he is so much more. A legit genius who inevitably uses that genius to fight petty grudges rather than help humanity reach claims potential like he claims to care about. Kingdom Come, Justice, you know the drill.

19. Iron Man

               Some characters combine seriously cool abilities with personalities that are seriously hard to like. Iron Man is cool; Tony Stark is just an egomaniacal jerk. It’s also worth noting that Tony often has to use Iron Man (and the Avengers) to fix problems of his own making. He’s a great character, but he’s not a good one.

25. Deadpool

               Because Wade was going to kill me if I didn’t put him somewhere on this list.

               Seriously. He’s standing right next to me while I’m writing this.

              Help me.

30. Death of the Endless

               I’ve honestly only read one issue featuring Death, Neil Gaiman’s Sandman, #8. But that one issue is probably my favorite single comic issue ever. It’s stark, poignant, and beautiful. My list had 29 characters and I immediately thought of her for Number Thirty, but I’m sure she’ll move higher if I ever read any more of her stories.

               Well, that’s all for now. I hope you enjoyed this strange trip through my comic book preferences. For real, to all who’ve gotten this far, I’d love to read your Top Ten. I find the reasons why different people like different characters fascinating.

              Till next time, cheers, y’all!

[paulsebert]

Secret Empire #0 Thoughts (Spoilers)

Previously: The Red Skull used Korbik (a sentient cosmic cube that sometimes takes a child's form) to turn Captain America into a bad guy. Captain America is now a loyal agent of Hydra an evil organization that is sometimes Nazi affiliated and sometimes not depending on who is writing. Captain America planned a bunch of bad stuff behind everyone's back.  Captain America turned on his evil master.  Red Skull desperate to make Cap stop admitted that Captain America that his new history (that we saw in extensive flashbacks over many issues) was all lies he made up. Captain America doesn't care because he's EEEEVIL! He kills Red Skull and sets out to take over the world... his way! This took 15 fricking issues to get to.  Meanwhile we learned that Nick Spencer should really stay off twitter.

Notes: Despite the bad reaction Spencer's Cap run has gotten I'm actually a fan of most of Nick Spencer's work. Superior Foes of Spider-Man is of one the best comics of the last decade and the The Fix is hilarious. His run on the two Captain America runs are really mixed bags.  The first two arcs of “Captain America: Sam Wilson” are really good but Spencer struggled trying to deal with real life politics in the later issues. As for the eeeeeevil Captain America book well... it's better than painful fever dream of Rick Remender's Captain America book. I'm going to try to be fair and optimistic going into this one.

Our story opens with a World War II flashback in of Hydra Cap in the mountains of Japan meeting with Kraken an obscure villain from Jonathan Hickman's Secret Warriors. Hydra's secret base looks like the Legends of the Hidden Temple set. Kraken tells Captain America that the Allie will use the Cosmic Cube (not Korbik but another one) to change reality so that Hydra doesn't take over the world. He says they're going to change his memories and no matter what he must not forget he's a Hydra Agent. Of course we know all of these new World War II memories are bullshit so... they're either illusions or maybe Kraken was manipulating Steve the whole time or... uuuugh. I am three pages in and I have a headache!

We now have a flow chart of characters. I know Secret War did the same thing but... hoo-boy. That's a bad sign.

We cut to modern day.  Cap is at S.H.I.E.L.D command with Sharon Carter.  We learn that a Chitari (those aliens from the first Avengers movie) invasion is headed towards Earth.  But the Planetary Defense shield is down.  Wasn't there a whole other organization called S.W.O.R.D that handled this? Where is Abigail Brand?

We see the Guardians of the Galaxy and The Ultimates fighting aliens in space.  I am wondering why most of the focus isn't on this and is instead on S.H.I.E.L.D HQ?  Daniel Acuña draws pretty fight scenes. Let him do that!

Meanwhile a boatload of supervillians lead by Gravitron are attacking New York and the Defenders are fighting them.  Unfortunately more of the focus is on S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. So we’re mostly watching EVIL Cap and Sharon watching all the action.

Meanwhile Hydra has invaded the country of Sokovia the country that Ultron completely destroyed back in Kurt Busiek's run.  I know it’s played a role in Specer’s run but shouldn't it just be all empty space and dead Ultron drones now?

The narrator is REALLY going out of his way to tell us what a brilliant strategist Hydra Cap is and how all of these couldn't have happened by coincidence.  It's sort of like how every three pages in Avengers Arena someone says “gee Arcade is really a clever villain now. He sure thought of everything.”

Back in space Quasar is eaten by a space whale.  I should be upset at the apparent death of a new superhero but like... this HAS to be a set-up for her to punch her way out of the belly of a space whale an issue or two later. Right? I mean why would you waste an opportunity for an awesome action scene?

I just realized that Hydra Cap planning his scheme while the heavy hitters are in space is a LOT like the plot of Infinity.  Also the whole novelty of an EVIL Captain America story would have been a lot more at home in Axis.  Remember how Tony Stark was eeeeeevil for a year and no one cared?

Now Nitro shows up while the Defenders are fighting and Jessica Jones throws him high into the air while he triggers an explosion that looks like a homage to the opening of Civil War.  This comic is turning into a greatest hits album of other comic crossovers.

The Secretary of Defense gives Captain America full control over the U.S. Military and Law Enforcement thanks to a new act of congress so everything bad from here on out is caused by an ill conceived piece of legislation... just like Civil War!

The defense shield is turned on locking aliens out and the Defenders get backup from the Uncanny Avengers. Things are looking up for the heroes.

Suddenly a heli-carrier crashes into S.H.I.E.L.D HQ and a bunch Hydra mooks show up. Only the S.H.I.E.L.D guards aren't fighting back because Dr Faustus is brainwashing everyone.  I should have mentioned before this whole mess started that the Red Skull had psychic mindscrew powers and dude whose sole power was brainwashing people working for him.  If you really wanted to do a Captain America is EVIL story the whole cosmic cube and prolonged elaborate false history flashbacks are kind of superfluous.

Captain America orders the Hydra Guards and the mind controlled S.H.I.E.L.D guys to take Sharon Carter prisoner.  Sharon is not under Faustus' control despite the fact that if I had a drink for the number of stories where Sharon Carter was mind controlled I'd be drunk.  Sharon thinks Cap is being controlled by Faustus but...

 A Hydra guy is just standing there and has this slackjawed look like “I can't believe this shit.”  I'm going to pretend he's Bob from Deadpool. Bob's presence is the most entertaining thing about this book so far.

I could be reading “The Button” right now.  That comic has Batman fighting Professor Zoom AND Flash fighting Samurai Robots... Samurai Robots!  And it doesn't have walls and walls of exposition text...

Iron Men Riri Williams and Force Ghost Tony Stark (it's a long story) discover someone has sabotaged the planetary defense shield and Hydra guys attack them. Just as it looks like we're going to get a good fight it cuts away.

On Space Skype Captain America reveals to Captain Marvel that wave after wave of Chitari are coming and he's keeping them walled off outside with fierce alien warriors to their doom.  Cue Cliffhanger #1.

Tony Stark and Riri Williams just beat up all the Hydra Guys OFF CAMERA!  We've got like a bazillion action scenes going on and NONE of them are given any time to breath under these unending walls of exposition text.

Hey it's HELMUT ZEMO!  Which Zemo is it... the morally complex anti-villian/anti-hero from Thunderbolts? Is it the Cobra Commander-esc idiot from Avengers Undercover? A combination of the two? I don't know because he has all of three panels in this issue.

Zemo and a guy named Blackout (not the Ghost Rider Villian) have stolen the book of Darkhold.  Does anyone remember Darkhold: Pages from the Book of Sins?  It was like this early 90s quasi-horror comic about this cursed book whose pages granted evil monkey paw wishes and the people who made those wishes usually turned into monsters. Plus there was an evil dwarf.  Like that you should be revamping that into something so if you wanted Peter Dinklage to be a villain in a Marvel movie.  Oh and there were people called The Darkhold Redeemers who were trying to stop the Dwarf and one of them was a lesbian and this was like long before LGTB representation was anywhere near common in comics.  Dude I want a Darkhold Redeemers comic.

So Zemo and an obscure Avengers villian named Blackout (who looks like the poor man's Electro) use the Darkhold to banish New York City isolating it under a Dark Force dimension dome.  It's like when the Hand sealed off Hell's Kitchen in Shadowland but bigger.  ANOTHER crossover callback.  Cliffhanger #2.

Tony deducts that the next target of attack is going to be Washington DC he calls for The Avengers (several teams worth), The Champions, and Spider-Man (who I guess wasn't in New York.)  We get some big epic hero arrival poses that would look great if they weren't crammed into TINY... TINY panels.

Back in Washington an army of Hydra Helicarriers loom ominously over the White House. Hey do you remember the C-Plot from Fear Itself.  When Skadi's Army attacked Washington but no-one cared because the rest of the book was about fighting monsters with Evil Thor Hammers? ANOTHER CALLBACK!

This the B-side of a Marvel Comics Crossovers Greatest Hits Album. Side A is about 70% tracks from Secret War, the Worthy stuff from Fear Itself and a trio of tracks from Civil War, Secret Invasion, and House of M. that were popular at the time but doesn't hold up.

The nicest thing I can say about this comic is that Daniel Acuña's art is really good and if anything this is one of the best looking bad comics I've ever read.

Despite the involvement of Hydra and the 40s flashback EVIL Cap doesn't really come across as a Nazi at all and just a generic “take over the world” badguy.  On one hand that kind of seems to be Marvel backing away from the obvious “Cap is a Nazi” angle that was making people uncomfortable and angry and yet on the other hand it's also backing away from the “America is more messed up than we thought” allegory that could actually make a point this time.  Spencer isn't the guy to be doing that kind of project though.  Not sure who I could see doing that and making such a gut punch work. Grant Morrison or Kyle Baker maybe?

If this is any indication it's going to be a loooooong six months.  Maybe I should be polishing off my “Rikki Barnes: The Winter Soldier” pitch.

#Secret Empire #Marvel Comics #Captain America #HydraCap #Nick Spencer #Daniel Acuna #Every Crossover Ever #This Comic Is Bad And You Should Feel Bad #Spoilers #Wednesday Spoilers

[samleheny]

The good that can come from this crappy Ghost in the Shell remake

I’m a big Ghost in the Shell fan. I love cyberpunk, transhumanism, Eastern design sensibilities, all that good stuff. It’s no surprise I didn’t expect this Hollywood remake to be any good, nor that critics so far are pretty unanimously reporting that it isn’t, nor that I’m not interested enough to find out for myself and send the message “Yes Hollywood, my curiosity will get the better of me and you will end up getting my money regardless of whether or not you did a good job”. Whatever. The word is it’s visually engaging but that the action is dull and it’s emotionally and philosophically desolate (the very latter is a death knell for any GitS project as far as I’m concerned). I’m less sad that it had to happen to this franchise in particular and more so because I yearn for those days when Hollywood sci-fi knew how to be both thrilling and intellectually stimulating at the same time. Now days it’s one or the other, or sometimes neither. But I’m trying to look to the good, and I think there is some good. About this whole white-washing controversy of casting Scarlet Johanson as Major Motoko Kusanagi. We all should understand that people are less pissed off about the particular instance of casting a white person in the role of an east Asian character than they are about the larger issue it points to. No movie executive at any point sat down and said “This 1995 Mamoru Oshii classic is brilliant! But it could be even better... It could be... white!” No, they just wanted a big star in the lead role and they valued that more so than artistic authenticity, which only becomes a practical issue when one realises that when it comes to big names in the English language film space, the only actresses of Asian ethnicity with that kind of ticket selling star power are... um... Lucy Liu, and... uuuh... ...that’s about it I guess.

How did we get here? The implications aren’t nice to think about unless you want to make unfounded claims that “Dude! White people and a smaller contingent of black people are just genetically more inclined to pursue a career in acting! I know science, I have the best science!” But the studio has actually bent over backwards to try and placate an internet crying bullshit. Do you think just five or ten years ago said studio would have given a shit what we thought on the matter? Probably not. Reports were that they at one point considered ‘yellowing’ Ms. Johanson up in post production, but quickly decided away from that, since unless you’re Cloud Atlas, that’s only going to make things worse. The solution they actually attempted in the end is a bit more... amusing.

I’m going to spoil the twist of the movie here. So they ended up renaming the character Mira Killian for this adaptation, perhaps reasoning that it’s slightly less damning to rewrite the character then to have people sitting in the theatre shuffling uneasily in their seats, subconsciously wondering “Why does seminal Japanese heroine Motoko Kusanagi look remarkably like white as hell Scarlet Johanson?”. This time around she has amnesia and can’t remember who she was before having her brain put into a prosthetic body. I’ve seen people in forums already taken to referring to the character as “MINO” (Motoko In Name Only).

The twist? Turns out she really is Motoko Kusanagi, and her brain was put into a Caucasian body and she was renamed by your standard big evil corporation, robbing her of her past and identity. ...Wait, what? You can see what they were going for, attempting a clever meta-narrative, shaking a finger at the internet and saying “Isn’t it what’s on the inside that counts?”. But it just amounts to the studio basically calling themselves out for their casting inflexibility. The evil corporation taking a Japanese character and dipping her in Caucasia being noticeably, almost deliberately analogous to what the film makers did with the character in the first place. Are they trying to tell us they know they did wrong by vilifying themselves in their own movie? Drawing attention to the issue, without actually doing anything about it?

To be fair, it isn’t a bad idea for a story, in the abstract. Highlighting things like race as being rendered truly tertiary and unimportant by cybernetic augmentation separating the identity and the flesh further apart then ever before in the human experience. But it’s depressing that they didn’t write that first and then reason “well that means we perhaps need an actress who doesn’t match Motoko’s traditional appearance.” But instead only conceived of this plot point as a way of retroactively justifying their casting choice. Just like it’s all well and good to talk about how The performance is what matters, and if race really shouldn’t separate us, then why do we insist a character’s ethnicity must remain rigidly consistent across the various reimaginings? But as soon as it’s the other way around, and a historically white character is being reimagined as black, or Latino, or what have you, then that philosophy gets switched out for a very different one. One that says race isn’t important, but race issues are, and when the western and usually Caucasian perspective already dominates huge chunks of the international pop culture, then it’s good, perhaps even necessary for concessions to be made to welcome people of other backgrounds into that dominant culture (a philosophy I find much more agreeable.)

Because this was never about white or Asian or American or Japanese or Japanese specifically or will any East Asian actress do? It’s about sharing the spotlight. Hence why taking one of the few international properties widely recognised and celebrated outside of its country of origin, sucking out the ground breaking Eastern philosophical tones, and bolting Scarlet Johanson onto the project because ‘She’s so hot right now!’ may not be a travesty or the end of the world, but it’s a disappointing waste of an opportunity. It feels like taking gruel from hungry orphans and feeding it to Bill Gates.

Plus... you know. A lot can be forgiven if the end product turns out really really good.

But the good in all this? Well like I said: even if their efforts just made the situation all the more laughable, they did go through pains to try and placate the backlash, which means they do care. Okay. Yes. The thing they care about is protecting a brand’s profitability in the face of an audience whose wallets are proving harder to seduce than anticipated, but now as opposed to yesteryear they might see that issues of diversity in the arts shouldn’t be shoved off to the side just because we gotta get dat sweet Scarlet Johanson money!

Because the cash-cow of Hollywood now, for better or worse, is the nerd. And nerds by definition care a lot about the minutiae. But perhaps more importantly than that, Hollywood is increasingly aware that the future looks a lot less western and a lot less white than the present. Why do you think Marvel is introducing all these Black, Latino, Middle Eastern, Mixed race, Gay, Asian, etc, characters into the comics? It’s because in ten years, when they still want to be making big superhero blockbusters, they’ll need new characters to replace the expired contracts of Captain America and Iron Man, etc. And they figure it behooves them to build into their future a lot more appeal for the increasingly diversifying movie going public.

I believe (with no small amount of chagrin) that we’re only going to see more and more adaptations of classic anime. Hollywood has a horrible track record with them of course, but consider that Hollywood is increasingly interested in courting the ever growing Chinese market, and making more films with Eastern themes, settings, and styles is a pretty good way to accomplish that. And consider also that there’s nothing the Hollywood genre-film machine fears more than spending money on new and untested ideas. With both of those factors in mind I think the solution for Hollywood will become obvious in time if it isn’t already, and it involves a crappy Akira remake, a crappy Sailor Moon remake, a crappy Evangelion remake, and crappy Studio Ghibli remakes (Oh you don’t think they'd dare? You wanna make a wager?). Japan is, after all, the most successful entertainment producer on an international scale outside of the English speaking countries. (Hmmm, possibly after France. Vivendi has its tendrils all over the place.) I don’t look forward to it, because I don’t look forward to a lot of remakes, because I find the current landscape of aversion to new ideas and forced franchise perpetuity incredibly depressing. But as far as learning how to do a better job of adaptation in the future, for once the studio didn’t just notice the backlash to white-washing a beloved foreign classic, they actually fretted over it. And perhaps they will next time. And with the memory of this “MINO” character fresh in their minds, hopefully they’ll have those frets before making a casting choice. At which point I hope the solution will be as obvious to them as it was to the fans.

Live action Akira will probably happen (it already almost did, and they wanted to move it from Neo-Tokyo to Neo-Manhattan) it will probably suck despite being a big blockbuster, but at least there’s a better chance now it will be a blockbuster that could be the breakout role of some talented young Japanese American somewhere who doesn’t otherwise have much hope of being offered a role as the latest superhero. And some young kid from Asian immigrant parents might see him on the silver screen and feel impassioned.

#Ghost in the Shell #representation matters

[skswriting]

this life in color

Rating: T Pairing: Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin Words: 7223 Summary: But the colors were getting stagnant. They were starting to fade in and out; one day Yoongi’s hair was bright pink, the next is was light, the next is was gray, then back to the bright pink. One day Jungkook would be getting lost in the brown of Jimin’s eyes and the next he would be getting lost in the black ink; no matter the color, they were still bewitching and still held the stars.  It never occurred to Jungkook that Jimin was seeing colors too. AN: a really shitty rendition of the whole “you see colors when you meet your soulmate” au lmao ao3

It was a slow progression for Jungkook; he first noticed it when the tree outside his bedroom window had a weird tint to it, not quite black but not quite white, and then a few days later the color solidified and Jungkook was staring at green leaves.  The first color Jungkook was ever able to see was the green of nature, the green of his bike, the green of Jimin’s backpack.  It was and still is his favorite color.

“Hyung nature is so beautiful, I wish I could show you, so beautiful.”

“I’m sure it is Jungkookie.”

Then came blushing pink cheeks and slips of pink whenever someone talked and the pink of Yoongi’s hair. It was a little disconcerting, at first, because everyone had been varying shades of monotone but now color was starting to pop up and it was a little hard for Jungkook to get used to.

“Park Jimin are you blushing?”

“Shit, am I?  Don’t look at me this is embarrass- Jungkookie stop laughing it isn’t funny!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I promise I just- you look cute is all.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my God you’re getting redder!”

Blue was next and Jungkook was drowning in the sky, was ditching dance practice and dragging Jimin to the beach to marvel at the ocean.  Jungkook thought he looked best in blue, even if a lot of people still were color restricted, and Yoongi was always complimenting him on the contrast to his skin color.

“Are you wearing blue again?”

“Not today, my mom says it’s yellow but I’m not sure, I haven’t seen yellow yet.”

“Can I ask you a question Jungkookie?”

“Of course, hyung.”

“Why won’t you tell me who you’re falling in love with?”

“I- I can’t.  I’m sorry hyung I’m just-”

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have asked.  Hey, what color is Taehyung wearing today?  Is it the purple shirt with his green pants?  I want to make fun of him.”

The first time he ever saw red was when some dick pushed him down, his hands scraping against concrete as he tried to avoid bashing his head in.  The red of his blood as it dripped down his palms and stained his jeans.

“Jungkook!  Oh my God are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Jimin hyung, it’s just a scratch.”

“Oh look, here comes the little fag’s boyfriend to save him, how sweet.”

“You should shut the fu-”

“Jungkook stop, let’s just get out of here.”

But the colors were getting stagnant.  They were starting to fade in and out; one day Yoongi’s hair was bright pink, the next is was light, the next is was gray, then back to the bright pink.  One day Jungkook would be getting lost in the brown of Jimin’s eyes and the next he would be getting lost in the black ink; no matter the color, they were still bewitching and still held the stars.

Jungkook sighs as he stars at his comforter, watching the red on it fade in and out, brushing his fingers over the blinking color.

“I can’t tell him,” he whispered to himself, glancing as his phone lit up with a text, the sender reading: jiminie, “I can’t.”

It never occurred to Jungkook that Jimin was seeing colors too.

-

“Jeon Jungkook, you didn’t answer any of my texts last night,” Jimin pouts, dropping himself rather dramatically on the bus seat beside Jungkook, “What could have been so important that you were ignoring me?”

Jungkook blushes at their proximity, but it’s not like Jimin can see the color on his cheeks, “Sorry hyung, I was- I was studying-”

“Stop lying.  Are you forgetting we’re friends on xBox live? It tells me when you log in,” Jimin pokes cheek and Jungkook ducks his head, “I can’t believe you left me on read for a video game.”

“Skyrim isn’t just a video game, hyung, it’s a-”

“It’s a way of life, yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it before,” Jimin rolls his eyes and braces himself against Jungkook as the bus hits a pothole, jostling all the students. Jungkook can hear some of the track players grumbling in the back.

Jimin doesn’t move his hand from Jungkook’s arm and leans fully into the younger boy, as the bus slides to a stop, it’s last stop before school, picking up the last handful of students, “Anyway, since I know you read my texts, are you coming over this weekend?”

Jungkook gives a noncommittal shrug, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?  You have no other friends.  Who are you going to hang out with if not me?”

There’s a snort and they glance over as Taehyung unceremoniously drops himself down into the seat on the aisle across from them, “No other friends?  What am I, chopped liver?”

Jimin giggles and the sound settles itself in Jungkook’s heart, a beautiful sound that has Jimin’s eyes scrunching up and his free hand covering half his face.

“Of course not Tae; I’m just trying to guilt trip Jungkookie into staying the night at my house.”

“On a scale of one to ten my guilt is .5,” Jungkook laughs and Jimin pouts up at him.

“Jungkookie!  Why are you being so difficult today?” the scale slides up and the guilt settles around a 3.

“Sorry hyung,” Jungkook murmurs, knocking his shoulder lightly into Jimin’s, “I’ll try, I promise; but you know how my dad is sometimes.”

Jimin sobers up a little and Taehyung gives him a sympathetic, understanding smile, “I know, I’m sorry Jungkookie.”

Jungkook shakes his head as the bus pulls up at the unloading zone, some of the impatient kids already standing to be let off, “Don’t.”

The three of them are quiet as they step off the bus.  A senior knocks his shoulder rather harshly into Jungkook’s as he get offs behind him and Jungkook bites his tongue, keeping his eyes ahead.

“Faggot,” he hears the boy murmur and something in Jungkook’s stomach drops.

Jimin goes to touch his shoulder, maybe hold his hand, but Jungkook withdraws entirely from him and Taehyung, shooting them a smile.

“I better head to homeroom. I’ll see you guys at lunch?”

Jimin looks worried, opening his mouth like he wants to say something, before he shuts it and just nods, “Yeah.  Okay.  See ya.”

“Bye Kook.”

Jungkook tosses a wave over his shoulder as he walks away, trying to keep his head held high.

-

Jungkook’s parents are still at work when he gets home, his older brother lounging on the couch with a bag of chips in his hand.

“Hey squirt, how was school?” Junghyun asks, gesturing for Jungkook to sit with him on the couch.

“Stop calling me squirt, I’m pretty sure I can bench press you now,” Jungkook tells him, throwing his jacket off so he can flex at Junghyun.  Junghyun barks out a laugh and shakes the bag of chips at Jungkook in offering.

“Shut it, I can still beat you in Mario Kart and that’s all that matters,” Junghyun stuffs another handful in his own mouth, “Anyway, how was school?  Math still kicking your ass?”

“I don’t understand how finding angles of triangles is going to help me in life,” Jungkook mutters, snatching the bag from Junghyun who lets out a, “Dude!” and tries to take them back.

“Maybe you’re going to be a carpenter and you’ll need to figure out angles and shi- give me my chips back!”

Jungkook laughs as he holds them out of Junghyun’s reach, bending backwards over the arm of the couch so Junghyun can’t reach them.  Junghyun eventually grabs him and puts him in a headlock, giving him a wicked noogie before he claims his chips again.

“God you’re insufferable, honestly,” Junghyun gripes.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, watching the late night stand up Junghyun had recorded the night before, before Junghyun speaks up.

“What are you doing this weekend?” he asks, crumbling the finished-up bag of chips.

“Well, I… I might see if I can stay the night with Jimin hyung…” Jungkook says slowly, glancing at his brother.

“Oh, your boyfriend, right?” Junghyun asks without missing a beat.

“Shut up!” Jungkook hisses, glancing over his shoulder like their dad might be standing there.

“Relax,” Junghyun rolls his eyes, “I don’t care.  I’m asking because I’m having a small art exhibit and I wanted you to come.  You can bring your boyfriend, I don’t care.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Jungkook sniffs, crossing his arms and sinking lower into the couch, “But we’ll be there.  My-not-boyfriend and I.”

They’re silent again, as Jungkook pouts, before Junghyun speaks up again, “You know I don’t care though, right?  If-If he was your boyfriend?  It doesn’t matter to me.  I just want to see you happy, Kook and if Jimin was it then-”

The door opens and the heavy footsteps indicate it’s their dad, returning from a long day of work.

But Junghyun doesn’t stop talking, “You can come to me with anything, okay?  I’m serious Kook, anything.”

“Okay, okay, okay, thanks Hyun, I appreciate it, now shut up.”

Their dad stops in the doorway, loosening his tie, “What are you hooligans up to?”

“Just teasing Kook about his grades in math; it’s pathetic really.”

Jungkook reaches over and punches Junghyun as hard as he can and Junghyun howls, curling up overdramatically as he clutches at his rapidly appearing bruise.  Their dad laughs as Jungkook launches off the couch before Junghyun can retaliate, throwing a, “You deserved it!” over his shoulder and thundering up to his room.

He has one text message from Jimin and all it reads is, Well?

Jungkook smiles as he taps his contact and then taps the call button, waiting for two rings before Jimin is cheerfully yelling in his ear, “Jungkookie!”

“What’s got you so excited, hyung?”

“I’m excited because you never call me!  Why are you calling me?”

“Well I wanted to ask-”

“Are you talking to your boyfriend?”

Jungkook pales a little when he recognizes Jihyun’s voice, Jimin’s younger brother.  Well, younger to Jimin.  Jungkook and Jihyun are the same age.

“Shut up Jihyun.  Anyway, what’s up Kook?” Jimin doesn’t sound embarrassed or panicky, just exasperated, like Jungkook feels sometimes when Junghyun is being too much.

“Oh I uh- I-”

“Hyung why are you blushing?  Is Jungkook telling you how much he-”

“Jihyun how do you know what pink looks like who do you lo-”

There’s a lot of rustling and some screaming before there’s a loud thwack! and Jimin pants on his end of the line.

“Sorry Jungkook, ignore everything he said.  What were you saying?”

Jungkook takes a moment to clear his throat, throwing his head back so he was starfished on his bed.

“Junghyun is having an art exhibit this weekend, apparently, and he wants us to come.  And I figured after I could stay the night after.”

“Yay!  Of course we’ll go!” Jimin cheers and Jungkook laughs, feeling so light just from the sound, “Oh my God I’m so excited, I have so many movies recorded for us to watch, we’re going to buy so much junk food and-”

Jungkook lets Jimin go on and on, the smile never leaving his body and noticing a new color appearing, a bright color on his textbooks.  He doesn’t say this to Jimin, he can’t without Jimin asking questions, but he revels in the new color.  By the time they hang up, an hour and a half has gone by.

Jungkook learns later that the color is yellow.

-

“Jungkookie,” his mother calls affectionately as he passes by the sliding glass door leading to the backyard the next morning, “Jungkookie come outside and help your mother.”

Jungkook smiles at her from where she’s on her knees, pulling weeds out of the garden, a wide brimmed hat shielding her eyes from the sun and gloves encasing her hands.

Jungkook likes helping his mom tend the garden; it’s peaceful and they work well together, passing the spade back and forth when they encounter a weed that has roots just a little too long to pull out by hand.

“So.”

But Jungkook never likes when his mom starts their conversations with, “So,” because he knows she’s about to ask or say something serious.

“I’ve noticed your outfits have been matching better,” she says, glancing at him briefly before turning her attention back to her favorite tulips.

“O… okay?”

“You’re seeing colors, aren’t you?”

Jungkook stays quiet, watching his mom struggle with a weed before he brushes her hands aside and does it for her.

“Tell me, who is it Jungkookie?  I want to know who my boy has fallen in love with.”

“I… I can’t tell you mom,” he sits back on his heels, wiping the sweat forming on his forehead off.

“You can’t tell me? Or you won’t?  Do you think I won’t approve, is that it?” she asks, continuing to work, “Don’t slack, get those weeds over there.  I’ve heard Junghyun ribbing you about Jimin; is that who you’ve fallen in love with?”

Jungkook stares at his mother, stunned and when she turns to look at him she has a small smile on her face, “Give me a little credit Jungkook, I may be old but I’m still sharp; I see what’s happening in my kid’s lives.”

“I-I never said-”

“I’m right, aren’t I? What was so hard about telling me?” she asks and Jungkook glances up as his dad walks by the glass doors, whistling, “Oh.  You’re scared to tell your father?”

Jungkook gives an almost imperceptible nod of his head.  They work diligently for a little while longer, as his mother thinks about what to say.

“Colors are beautiful, aren’t they?” she finally decides on, taking off her gloves so she can cradle a not yet bloomed tulip in her hand, “They add to the world and make one day different from the next because the blue sky today invigorates you more than the gray sky yesterday.  Or the yellow of the school bus makes you smile rather than the gray one.  Or you realize that the red of the one you love really makes those eyes you fell in love with shine.  I don’t want you to miss out on these things, Jungkook, because of fear.  Nothing should stand in the way of you and happiness; not your fear and most definitely not your father.”

Jungkook doesn’t realize he’s started to cry until his mom is loving wiping his face free of tears.

“My boy, it’s okay, it’s okay, shh, shh, shh, come here,” she smiles, pulling him into her arms as he sobs into her neck.

“I’m so scared mom,” he cries, “I want to tell him but what if-if he thinks I’m disgusting and hates me? I’d rather he’d never know I love him than lose him.  I don’t think I could-”

“Hush now, he’d never hate you,” she shushes him, “Clean your face up, you’re getting dirt on it.”

She lets him blubber in her arms for a few more moments before she draws him back, wiping his snotty face off with her sleeve.

“If you don’t tell him Kook, you’re going to regret it.  Trust me on this.”

Jungkook wipes at his face, hoping his dad doesn’t see and come outside to ask, “Okay.  Okay.  I’ll. I’ll tell him.  Tomorrow.  After the exhibit.”

She smiles, “There’s the Kook I know.  Now pull this weed for me, it’s being stubborn.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Jungkook loves his mom.

-

Jungkook promptly loses his breath when he sees Jimin, glowing and beautiful as he waves at Jungkook from the piece of work he’s standing in front of.

“Wow, there are so many cool artists here.  I’ve seen a few of Junghyun’s pieces, they’re incredible.”

Jungkook nods, proud of his brother and all the work he’s put into his art.

“Let me show you my favorite so far,” Jimin grabs Jungkook’s hand and Jungkook tries not to let the people near to witness their affection intimidate him.

He keeps Jimin’s hand firmly clasped in his despite the sneer he clearly sees one guy throw their way. His shirt is ugly anyway; Jungkook wonders if the guy has even been in love to know that it’s an audacious color.

“I think I like this one so much because it’s you.”

“Wha-?”

Jimin pulls him to a stop in front of a particularly large piece, pushing Jungkook in front of him a little as he comes to stand behind the younger boy despite not being able to see unless he stands on his tip toes and rests his chin on Jungkook’s shoulder. Which Jimin does, his hands warm on Jungkook’s waist as he places them there to steady himself and Jungkook tries to ignore the way he can feel Jimin’s breath hitting the inside of his ear to focus on Junghyun’s work.

And Jimin is right; it is him.  It’s a three-quarter profile charcoal drawing of Jungkook, his eyes casted down and shadows covering most of his face, a beanie pulled over his bangs and a splash of green in the background.  He looks pensive, broody, appropriately emo.  Jungkook knows what this is from: it’s when he told Junghyun he was starting to see colors, the day he saw the green in the trees and in the grass.

“Jimin?”

The deep bass voice startles the both out of their reverie and Jungkook turns to see a tall, handsome male smiling pleasantly at them both.  Jungkook immediately recognizes Kim Namjoon and his signature dimples, president of the student body.

“Ah, Namjoon hyung, hello!” Jimin greets, throwing Namjoon a careless smile and making Namjoon’s own widen. Jungkook frowns.

“Jungkook, hello,” the president greets and Jungkook returns the sentiment, a little gruffly, “What brings you two here?”

Namjoon is obviously eying the way Jimin is pressed against Jungkook’s back, but it doesn’t make Jimin back away.  Instead Jimin leans his head against Jungkook’s shoulder, manhandling them until they’re facing the large-scale portrait of Jungkook again.

“Jungkookie’s brother has a few pieces in the exhibit,” Jimin tells Namjoon, “I found this one before Jungkookie arrived and I wanted to make sure he saw it.”

“Wow,” Namjoon exhales, “It’s powerful.  Is green important to you?  Oh, sorry, I probably should have asked if you could even see colors, I didn’t thi-”

“Nah, it’s fine. Green is the first color I saw and Junghyun is the first person I told when I started seeing them.”

Namjoon nods, seemingly relieved he didn’t overstep any boundaries, “You look upset here, even though seeing colors is supposed to be a good thing.”

Jungkook tenses a little and Jimin feels it, the hands he has on Jungkook’s waist tightening as he rubs at Jungkook’s thin t-shirt.  Jungkook doesn’t say anything else and Namjoon seems to realize it’s still a sore subject.

“Well, tell your brother I think it’s a magnificent piece.  I’m going to go walk around, I’ll see you guys later, yeah?”

Jungkook nods his goodbye as Jimin enthusiastically waves.  Jungkook tries not to be jealous of the way Namjoon’s shirt stretches across his back, showing off the muscles underneath as he walks.  Jungkook subconsciously flexes and Jimin notices.

“Feeling threatened?” Jimin teases, easing off his tip toes so he can step up beside Jungkook as he gazes up at charcoal Jungkook.

“Of course not,” Jungkook immediately denies.

Jimin just shakes his head good naturedly, letting it go.  They stand beside each other in silence, appreciating the work, before Jimin says it almost like a sigh and definitely not thought out.

“I always did love green,” his voice is breathy as he turns to smile at Jungkook except Jungkook feels like the Earth was just pulled out from under his feet and he’s in free fall.

“W-What?  You… you can see colors?” Jungkook exclaims and Jimin’s mouth drops open as he turns to Jungkook with wide eyes, “You can see them and you didn’t tell me?!”

“Jungkook I-” Jimin resembles a goldfish as he opens and closes his mouth a few times, struggling to get words out, “I wanted to tell you but-”

“But what, hyung, what possible reason could you have for not telling me you’re in love with someone?” Jungkook spits, voice absolutely venomous and Jimin shrinks in on himself, “Fuck hyung, I told you!  I told you the second it started happening, right away!  How long?  How long have you been able to see them?”

Jimin’s bottom lip is trembling and his eyes are glossing over as he says, “A year.  I’ve been seeing the rainbow for a year.”

The colors instantaneously slip away.  The reds and the yellows and the blues bleed out until there’s only black and white left, until the green on his portrait is only a gray blob, until the red splotches in Jimin’s cheeks he get when he’s close to crying vanish and the brown eyes Jungkook fell in love with turn black.

It doesn’t matter anymore. Colors don’t matter anymore when Jimin’s in love with someone else, when Jimin experiences purple and yellow and orange for someone else, because of someone else.  Jungkook feels an ache deep in his chest and he grasps at the spot, feeling like he’s going to be sick.  He’s been a fool pinning after Jimin when it was so clear it wasn’t meant to be them, that they weren’t meant to be.

Jimin’s outright crying now, reaching out to Jungkook, “P-Please, Jungkook listen to-”

“Save it,” Jungkook snarls, feeling so hurt that everything’s starting to go numb, that he’s starting to shake, “Just save it.”

Jungkook turns on his heel and jogs away, Jimin sobbing and calling for Jungkook to come back.  But Jungkook closes his ears, eyes, heart, and keeps jogging until he’s flat out running, barreling through people, through Namjoon who looks bewildered, through Junghyun who tries to catch his wrist, through masses and blobs of black and white until he’s out of the exhibit and on his way home.  He doesn’t stop running until his lungs burn and ache, until his feet are screaming because timberlands are not made for running, until he feels like his heart is no longer going to jump out of his chest.

Jungkook doesn’t know if that last feeling will ever go away.

-

His mom looks startled when Jungkook walks through the front door, hair windswept and chest heaving and tears streaming down his cheeks, and tries to talk to him as he slams the front door shut.  The sound draws his dad out of the kitchen and he rudely brushes his mom off as he rushes to his room, just wanting to block everyone and everything out.  He locks the door behind him and crawls into bed, hugging a pillow as he lets himself cry.

His mom stands outside his door for a few minutes, softly trying to coax him to let her in, but Jungkook puts his other pillow over his ears to block her out, squeezing his eyes shut. She must go away after a few minutes but Jungkook doesn’t know.  It’s hard to keep track of time when it feels like everything has turned upside down in the last few minutes over some fucking colors.

He can feel his phone vibrate in his pocket and he ignores it at first, until it does it again and again and again and-

Jungkook angrily fishes it out of his pocket and sees that Jimin is calling him, has called him, has left voicemails and messages and Jungkook doesn’t even think about it before he turns his phone off.  He doesn’t care.  He doesn’t want to hear it.  Maybe if he had known that Jimin was in love with someone else a fucking year ago, he wouldn’t have started seeing colors. He would have been able to avoid this pain and found someone else.

Deep in his heart Jungkook knows that’s a lie.  It’s always been Jimin.  It’s always been Jimin.

-

Junghyun comes home a few hours later and immediately bangs on Jungkook’s door, rattling the doorknob obnoxiously.

“Kook let me in,” he demands, “Don’t do this Kook, don’t shut me out, open the door, talk to me.”

“Go away!” he yells, voice scratchy from the amount of crying he’s done, “I don’t want to talk right now, please just go-”

“No, I’ll bang on this door all night long if I need to, let me in, Kook, please let me in, let me in, let m-”

Junghyun continues to chant and beat rhythmically on his door and Jungkook tries to bury himself farther into his bed, tries to block the sound out, except it doesn’t work and Junghyun just gets louder, beating on the door with two hands and raising his voice until Jungkook rips his blanket off, storms across the room, unlocks the door, and throws it open.

He’s ready to scream at Junghyun to just leave him the hell alone except the second he gets a good look at his older brother’s face he starts sobbing again, body wracking sobs that has Junghyun pulling him into his chest as he runs his fingers through Jungkook’s hair and rubs his other hand up and down Jungkook’s spine.

“It’s okay, I’m here, I got you, it’s okay, I got you Kook, you’re alright,” Junghyun babbles nonsense into his ear, holding Jungkook close while Jungkook claws at Junghyun’s back as his heart breaks all over again.

Junghyun ends up in Jungkook’s bed, the door ajar so their mom can peak in and check on her sons, Jungkook turned to face the wall and Junghyun holding him from behind like they used to do when they were little kids and Jungkook was scared of the dark.

“He’s in love with someone else,” Jungkook whispers weakly, throat sore, “He’s been in love with someone else for an entire year and he-” Jungkook cuts himself off because it physically hurts to keep talking.

“Jimin?” Junghyun clarifies and Jungkook nods, closing his eyes.  Hearing his name was like a stab to his heart, “Oh Kook I’m so-”

Jungkook shakes his head, biting down on his lip because he can feel the tears welling up in his eyes again and Junghyun quiets down to rub his hand comfortingly over Jungkook’s chest.

Jungkook doesn’t say it, but he feels it in every crevice of his body.  The regret over saying anything at all; he should have just kept his mouth shut and let Jimin love someone and let himself slowly lose his colors. At least that way he and Jimin would still be friends.

But the more Jungkook thinks about, the more he doesn’t think he could have stood to see Jimin kiss or hug on someone else that wasn’t him.

“Does…” Jungkook starts off, voice cracking, so he clears his throat to try again a little louder, “Does dad know?”

“Mom probably told him about the color thing, but I know she wouldn’t have told him it was over Jimin. She’s going to let you do that yourself.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “There’s no need to worry about it now.”

Junghyun just kisses behind his ear and continues to hold him.

-

When Jungkook wakes up Junghyun is gone and it’s morning, late morning, the sun bright enough that Jungkook knows he’s late for school.  He lays in bed for a few minutes, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, contemplating what to do.

“Jungkookie?” his mom calls, knocking softly on his door.

“I’m awake,” he tells her, sitting up in bed and looking around for his phone.  It’s laying on his nightstand, plugged in but still turned off. He’s afraid to turn it on.

“I brought you some eggs and rice,” she smiles at him, stepping into his room and he can feel the emotion surge through him.

“Mom,” he sniffles and she’s by his side in an instant, wrapping her arms around him and engulfing him in her scent.

Jungkook can’t remember the last time he hugged his mom, truly and honestly hugged her.  He cries into her shoulder and she holds him, kissing his temple as he scratches at the back of his neck with her fingernails and Jungkook can remember her doing the same thing when he was a little kid and was upset.  It helped then and it helps now.

“Is it about Jimin?” she asks though she has to know, “Did you…?”

“N-No.  He told me about, t-the colors and-” Jungkook breaks off and she shushes him.

“Okay, okay, okay, it’s okay, it’s alright.”

Jungkook doesn’t know how long he spends with his face pressed into her neck, his arms wrapped tightly around her as he seeks solace from within her.

“I know it hurts now,” she murmurs in his ear, “but it gets better with time, I promise.  The hurt will fade and the colors will come back and you’ll be alright.  You’ll get through this Jungkook, I know you, I know you can.”

“How do you know?” he asks, voice muffled by her t-shirt.

“How do I know you’ll get through?”

“How do you know it gets better?”

She laughs, a sound Jungkook has always loved, as she smooths her hand through his hair, “I know because I’ve been there.”

Jungkook makes a sound and she pulls away from him a little to look into his eyes, “Do you think your father is the only man I’ve ever loved?”

Jungkook has never thought about his parent’s outside of his timeframe, before him and Junghyun, when they were young and foolish like him.

“I had my green,” she smiles, a distant look taking over her eyes, “back when I was about your age. But, like you, I let fear control me and I never told him how I felt.  I wonder about him sometimes.  Don’t twist my words; I love you and Junghyun and your father, but my green is my biggest, “What if?”.”

She stops for a moment, her eyes refocusing and she smiles a little sadly at Jungkook, “Don’t let Jimin be your, “What if?” Jungkookie.  “What if?”’s are no way to live.”

She kisses his forehead, letting herself linger and smooth his hair down one more time, “Now eat your breakfast, it’s probably cold.  We can talk about maybe going to school once your done.”

Jungkook really, really loves his mom.

-

Jungkook doesn’t want Jimin to be his, “What if?”.  Jungkook wants Jimin to be his, “Always.”

But Jungkook doesn’t know what to say.  He’s lounging on his bed, his mom having let him stay home from school, his turned-on phone laying on his stomach.  He has about 10 missed calls from Jimin, as well as three voicemails and seven messages.  The voicemails and texts say basically the same thing, that Jimin wants to explain to Jungkook in person, but Jungkook doesn’t know if he can even look at Jimin right now without his heart giving out.

But Jungkook thinks of his mom and the look on her face as she wonders about her green and Jungkook doesn’t want to think of Jimin like that.  He doesn’t want to have to reach into his memories to see Jimin, he wants to turn over in bed and see Jimin sleeping.  He wants to see Jimin’s face flushed red after a grueling dance practice, wants to see Jimin in that blue sweater that makes him look so soft, wants to see Jimin lying in a field of green that started this whole mess.

So when Jungkook knows school is out and that Jimin is home, he shoves his feet in his shoes and kisses his mom on the cheek before he leaves.  She gives him an encouraging smile and squeezes his hand before patting his butt playfully on his way out the door.

Jimin doesn’t live too far from Jungkook, about four streets away and three blocks down.  It normally takes Jungkook ten minutes, but even though Jungkook just wants to have this confrontation done and over with he can’t make himself speed up.  It takes him twenty-five minutes to arrive outside Jimin’s house and another two to work up the courage to walk up and knock on the front door.  Jihyun answers.

“Oh good, you’re here. Something’s wrong with Jimin but he won’t tell me.  He didn’t even go to school today and you know what a stickler he is,” Jihyun worries his bottom lip and pulls Jungkook into the house, “He’s up in his room. Please, go make him feel better.”

Jungkook nods dumbly, unable to tell Jihyun that Jimin is that way because of him.  Instead he just slowly ascends the steps he’s climbed a thousand times except that this time could be the last time.  This might be the last time he’s ever going to be in this house and Jungkook pauses to gain his bearings.  He thinks he’s going to throw up.

He knocks slowly on Jimin’s door, the sound dull as he waits for some indication.

He gets a listless, “Go away Jihyun,” and he closes his eyes at the sound of Jimin’s voice.  Yesterday it made him feel like he was on cloud nine and now it does nothing but make the deepest part of his soul ache.

“It’s me,” he calls softly and there’s a beat, the light padding of feet, and the door creaks open almost ominously.

“Kook?” Jimin asks unsurely, like someone is playing a trick on him.

Jimin looks like shit, hair messy and unkempt, shirt and sweatpants wrinkled.  Jungkook wishes he could see the color of Jimin’s shirt, but quickly discards that thought because it hurts.  Jungkook has no idea what to say to Jimin now that they’re face to face. Apparently Jimin doesn’t either because his mouth opens and promptly closes before he opens the door wider and steps aside to let Jungkook into his room.

Jungkook mechanically heads for Jimin’s bed, where he always sits when he comes over, before he quickly thinks better and turns towards Jimin’s desk chair.  Jimin shuts the door quietly behind Jungkook and when he turns around he faces the bed, because that’s where Jungkook sits and his eyes flash with hurt when he sees Jungkook sitting at his desk.

Jimin sniffles as he sits by himself on his bed, tucking his hands under his thighs like he does when he gets nervous and doesn’t want to fidget with them.  They sit in the most awkward silence for a few minutes, the both of them steadfastly observing their feet, before a little sound catches Jungkook’s attention and he glances up to see Jimin trying not to sob out loud.

“That’s not fair,” Jungkook starts off shakily and Jimin startles, looking up at him with still the most beautiful pair of eyes he’s ever seen, even if they are big and wet from crying, “You don’t get to feel hurt right now, I do.  You… you lied to me hyung.  You let me describe colors to you like you couldn’t see them.”

“I know, I know, I’m horrible, I’m the worst, I’m sorry,” Jimin whimpers, running a hand across his face, “I just- I couldn’t tell you I-”

“Why?” Jungkook bursts out, standing up and pushing the chair away from him with his force, “Why couldn’t you tell me?  Who-”

“Why can’t you tell me?” Jimin counters, suddenly angry, “I can understand why your mad about me not telling you, but you can’t be mad I won’t tell you who because you won’t tell me who either!”

And Jungkook realizes it’s now or never; he has to tell Jimin now or he’s forever going to regret it, his biggest, “What if?”

Jungkook’s voice is surprisingly steady and strong as he says, “I couldn’t tell you because it is you.”

Jimin blinks, seemingly not understanding and Jungkook drops his eyes because it hurts to look at how vulnerable Jimin looks right now.

“I… I’m in love with you hyung.  I.  I’m in love with you.”

Jimin stands up slowly and even with his drawn up position they’re the same height despite him being two years holder.  Jungkook glances up to see tears streaming down Jimin’s face and Jungkook wants to cry too because rejection hurts and he just wants Jimin to know that it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to reciprocate-

Except Jimin barrels full speed into him, his nose crashing painfully against Jungkook’s sternum as he pushes Jungkook back against his desk and folds into him, wailing like a banshee as he clutches at him.  Jungkook catches snippets of, “You’re an asshole, an absolute asshole,” and “I hate you I hate you I hate-” and “No I love you I love you I love-” and Jungkook crushes Jimin to him as they teeter dangerously against the desk, not having a good footing.

“I don’t understand,” Jungkook cries into Jimin’s hair, hands scrabbling to find a good place to hold him, “What are you-”

“I’m in love with you,” Jimin wails, his face buried in Jungkook’s chest as he weakly hits at him, “An-And I thought you found out yesterday and hated me and-”

A misunderstanding. It’s all a misunderstanding and Jungkook is still a fool but he’s not a fool because he loves an unattainable boy but a fool because he’s shit at reading situations and Jungkook is so happy he starts to laugh uncontrollably as he cries.  It’s hysterical as he holds Jimin, an almost surreal weightlessness taking over as they cry in his room and laugh and hold each other tight.  A misunderstanding.  Jungkook almost lost Jimin over a misunderstanding.

It takes them a few minutes to calm down but when they do Jimin takes Jungkook by the hand and leads him over to the bed, where they sit side by side as close as possible.  The room is starting to get a strange tint to it and if Jungkook looks hard enough at Jimin’s comforter he thinks he can see specks of blue, except Jimin is placing a hand on Jungkook’s jaw and guiding his eyes back to Jimin.

“Is it okay if I kiss you? I’ve been wanting to do it for a year and-”

Jungkook’s never kissed anyone but he leans forward and lays his lips over Jimin, who says, “if you don’t-” into Jungkook’s mouth before he stops talking to kiss him back.  It’s sweet and soft and Jungkook doesn’t know how to kiss but it’s okay because he has all the time in the world for Jimin to teach him.

Jungkook must have closed his eyes when he kissed Jimin because when he opens them he’s greeted by a surprise of color in literally everything.  The only thing white and black are things that are purposefully colored that way and besides those, everything is tinted something: Jimin’s curtains are a soft yellow, pulled back to allow the green of the trees to be seen and the blue of the sky and the brown of his desk and the red of Jimin’s cheeks and everything is so, so beautiful.  Especially Jimin.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jungkook utters and he watches Jimin’s cheeks get redder, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too Jungkook,” Jimin whispers, voice watery like he’s about to start crying again and Jungkook is tired of tears so he kisses Jimin instead.

It proves to be a useful distraction.

-

Jungkook is sitting at the dining room table, across from his dad.  His dad probably already knows what he’s going to say, but he gives Jungkook the chance to say it.

It comes out strong, just like how he told Jimin he was in love with him the first time, “Dad. Jimin and I are dating.”

Though Jungkook knows it’s just him and his dad at the dining room table, he knows his mom and brother are in the kitchen just a room over.

His dad lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair and Jungkook has the painful thought that he’s leaning away from him, “And there’s no chance that Jimin is a pretty girl that goes to your school, is there?”

Jungkook swallows and drops his eyes, “N-No.  Jimin’s a boy, the one I’ve known since-”

“Yeah I know I just thought- I don’t know what I thought,” his dad sighs again, rubbing at his temple, “I’m sorry Kook I just don’t know how to feel about this.  I mean you’re a boy, and he’s a boy, and.  It’s just not-”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Jungkook whispers, feeling the shame swirl in his gut, “I’m sorry I-”

“Don’t be sorry.  You… you love him, right?” his dad says love almost like it’s painful for him to and Jungkook gives a small nod of his head, “Then it can’t be helped.  It’ll… it’ll take me a while, to get used to this whole thing I won’t lie.  But if… if he makes you happy then… I guess that’s all there is to it.”

Jungkook glances up at his dad who’s trying to smile at him and he knows this can’t be easy for the old fashioned old man.

“Thanks dad,” he says and his dad nods, before turning to the kitchen and saying, “You can come out now you eavesdroppers.  I swear, there is no privacy in this house…”

His mother makes a beeline for Jungkook and kisses his temple, before going to her husband and doing the same thing.  Junghyun claps a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and even though he knows his dad thinks his love is unnatural, he feels a little lighter.

-

“Hey brat,” Jimin greets as he pushes Jungkook over in the bus seat, “God stop taking up so much space, scoot over.”

“Make me,” Jungkook sasses but makes room, holding his hand palm up in the space between them in invitation for Jimin.  Jimin takes it without a second thought.

“So I was thinking this weekend we could-”

Jungkook doesn’t mean to zone out, but when Jimin wears that baby blue sweater that makes him look like cotton candy Jungkook can’t help it.  With the seat across the aisle from them empty, he takes the chance to lean over and kiss Jimin on the cheek, catching Jimin off guard who cuts himself off mid-sentence.

“What was that for?” Jimin raises an eyebrow and Jungkook only blushes a little.

He lowers his voice so others can’t hear him, “What?  I can’t kiss my boyfriend?”

Jimin’s smile is warm and beautiful as he strokes his thumb over the back of Jungkook’s hand, “Of course you can.”

The bus rolls to a stop at Taehyung’s stop who clambers on excitedly, apparently having something important to tell them.

It’s his colors.  He’s seeing the red of Seulgi’s hair and he’s both excited and terrified at the same time.

“Well here’s what you do: don’t just assume she doesn’t feel the same way,” Jimin says, smiling teasingly at Jungkook, “it’ll only cause you unnecessary heartbreak.”

Jungkook huffs and punches Jimin’s shoulder and when the older boy cries out he quickly kisses the spot.

When the bus pulls up to school Jungkook reluctantly let’s go of Jimin’s hand and he doesn’t even feel that normal flare of anger when that asshole senior predictably shoves his shoulder into Jungkook while muttering, “Faggot.”

He just looks as Jimin and lets his love and colors consume him.

#bts fanfiction #bts imagines #jeon jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook #park jimin imagines #park jimin fanfiction #park jimin #jikook fanfiction #jikook imagines #jikook #rating: t #skswriting

[araminthe-ispwitch]

The Accursed Tale of Viktor Nikiforov

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Yuri on Ice

Rating: K+

Pairing/s: Viktor Nikiforov/Yuuri Katsuki

Summary: 

Once upon a time, there was a man named Viktor Nikiforov. However, his story isn't something clear-cut like generic fairytales.

This is my birthday fic/song fic/attempted character study for Viktor Nikiforov a.k.a. that other dude born on December 25.

Emphasis on the "attempted" part.

Anyways, because he's on Christmas and Georgi "My Stupid Son" Popovich was born on Dec. 26 (can you believe the writers' cruelty???), I've decided that a short series of indirectly comparing them—going along with the theme of Georgi always being shadowed by Viktor—was a great idea.

(It's not actually, because now my other fics had to be put on hold.)

Cross-posted in: AO3 (don’t bother with the FFNet version because FFNet rejects songfics so I had to edit out this poetic fiction of mine there—but as if that’ll make me stop writing them because of the music industries’ logic)

Important Stuff to Note: 1) This Viktor-centric oneshot is very poetic—like REALLY poetic. Because it's a song fic—complete with lyrics and all that—I've tried to visualize it as an AMV of sorts, which is why the writing is like that and there's not much exposition (which, if you've read my other stuff, you'll know is my specialty).

2) Those lines centered, bolded, and italicized all together are the lyrics... and other stuff. ;D

3) There's a lot of time-skips here because we get to see how Viktor's life progresses.

4) I highly, HIGHLY encourage you to watch/listen to "Fairytale" by Alexander Rybak, the very inspiration for this and Georgi's own b-day fic. (The link I gave is his music video because you need to see how cute that fucker is, but okay that video's volume is low so here's a nice lyric video instead.)

5) Did you listen to it yet? You should. In fact, somebody should seriously fucking skate to it. I mean, it won Eurovision Song Contest 2009, didn't it? What do you mean it's not the greatest song ever?

6) I use the Victor-with-a-k spelling, so please get used to it.

7) Of course I don’t own YOI or Alexander Rybak’s song. T-T

The Accursed Tale of Viktor Nikiforov

Part 1 of the Two Sides of a Fairytale series

Once upon a time, a lone violin cry deafened the silence.

The spotlights from above grew warm and comforting.

The sound of ice being sliced coalesced into its own song.

And the world stilled to watch and listen.

Come.

Witness the tale of the Accursed Man.

Years ago, when I was younger

I kinda liked a girl I knew

Turquoise-colored eyes fluttered open with their beautiful silver lashes. The sight before them was familiar: a sea of indistinct faces, blurring into the colorful background behind the gleaming horizon of ice and light and white. Everywhere the eyes swept, the images couldn’t imprint on their memory long enough as the owner gracefully turned around and around and around. The dancing man outstretched his arms, beckoning to the empty air. To his precious audience, he was alone up on the glittering stage, but only the man could see the young feminine form coming to him, taking his hands.

Viktor smiled softly, his eyes only for her—for the beautiful creature who only ever answered to him. The girl laughed, eyes crinkling as the brilliant lights of the stadium bore down upon her veil of silver hair and moonlit skin.

They drew close, foreheads touching in a solemn, intimate prayer.

She was mine and we were sweethearts

That was then, but then it’s true

Then they backed away—fingertips still connected—and the mirror dance began.

I’m in love with a fairytale

Even though it hurts

Jump.

Spin.

Balance.

Glide.

Every movement, every action coursed through Viktor’s body as if they were natural to have occurred. And underneath the caress of the piercing music reverberating throughout the stage, they were. Viktor didn’t need to see if the girl was doing well—if she was copying him perfectly.

After all, they were one.

Their heartbeats were dancing to the same song—their skates gliding on the same ice.

They were one. And they will never let each other go.

‘Cause I don’t care if I lose my mind

I’m already cursed

They will always be with each other.

Every day we started fighting

Every night, we fell in love

“Don’t you think your hair is getting too long?”

Viktor blinked at his fellow skater, halting his brushing movements. His silver mane stilled as he did.

“What?”

“It’s not really fitting well with your look right now.”

Viktor blinked some more. “What do you mean?”

“Well… your body is getting more defined throughout the years…” the woman explained. “I think you would look better with a shorter hairstyle.”

“Yeah, I think so, too,” quipped another skater—a guy this time. “You’re past your puberty now, right? Having a mature look would get you more fans!”

Viktor barely heard the man’s encouraging enthusiasm, his hands restarting their brushing motion. His coach came into his view as the others chatted about how Viktor would look like in the future.

“Yakov…”

“Hm?”

Turquoise eyes lifted up to the old man, a glazed and unfocused look to them. “Do you think I should cut my hair?”

Yakov raised a brow.

“Really short, I mean?”

“Ah.” Yakov hummed in thought. He eyed his student’s suddenly-serious disposition. “It would make a good image on you, at least. You’ve never really had short hair before, right?”

Viktor nodded.

“Hairstyle changes can be good sometimes,” said Yakov with a shrug. He eyed Viktor carefully once again. “But it’s alright to not change anything. It’s up to you.”

Viktor nodded again, gaze staring past the floor’s pattern. His hands were busy with brushing, but every bristle of his mane against his fingers felt so keenly sensitive.

No one else could make me sadder

But no one else could lift me high above

“Isn’t your hair a bit too long?”

“You’re an adult now, aren’t you?”

“You should act more mature.”

“A manly sex appeal would suit you!”

“Just think of how the world would fawn over you if you changed your image!”

Darkness. A familiar space. Sometimes, there was color—and other times, it was a void.

A mirror was in front of him. It had always been with him ever since he could remember. It helped him see himself clearly.

His vibrant girl was staring back at him, as usual. But for once, they were wearing the same dull expression.

Unintelligible whispers were echoing throughout the space and every hiss reaching them made his girl shiver. But she wouldn’t openly show her fear. She was strong.

The garbled hissing wrapped itself around Viktor, but he didn’t need to understand them. He knew what they were all about.

Change.

Change.

Change.

Viktor was at the cusp of metamorphosis and he ought to change.

Ought.

The girl stayed silent, looking back at him with muted blue orbs.

But I like it long.

I don’t know what I was doing

When suddenly, we fell apart

Viktor didn’t know how and when the poisoned words—compelling, daunting, choking words—started to sear themselves into his skin like sentient tattoos, but sear into his skin they did, and Viktor quickly discovered that he was at the mercy of their cruelty.

A game of tug-of-war ensued—Viktor helpless to the pull of the invisible chains linked from his unwanted tattoos to the door outside his sanctuary, yet still stubbornly digging his feet into the ground as he battled to keep his fingertips on the mirror.

Honestly, it was no longer just a game.

His girl mouthed words only audible to him and he managed to add another fraction inch of skin on the reflective glass, at the cost of his curses cutting deeper into his body.

A light suddenly flew past him, startling both man and girl.

Viktor looked over his shoulder. A familiar figure was going ahead to the outside world, and a sense of dread started coiling itself into Viktor’s stomach.

Several more lights flew past the pitch-black sanctuary and Viktor realized with horror that… they were all leaving him behind.

The earth beneath him shifted and the familiar warm feeling of being watched—of being appreciated, of being appraised, of being acknowledged—left his skin like a cold mist settling in. The coiling dread spread almost immediately.

The buzzing in his ears grew louder, a mixture of his girl’s voice and the thousand voices of the outside world.

You can’t stay still.

They’ll get bored.

You need to evolve.

Viktor slowly turned back to his girl, finding her beautiful turquoise orbs filled with uncertainty. He lifted a hand and caressed the image of her porcelain cheek.

Nowadays, I cannot find her

But when I do, we’ll get a brand new start

“Oh, hey, Vik—oh, wow! You look great!”

Viktor squeezed the doorknob as several of his fellow skaters crowded around him to marvel at his new haircut.

“I told you you’d look amazing with short hair!” said the woman who’d suggested the idea to him. They all murmured agreements as they continued to ogle and croon at him.

Unseen to his audience, Viktor looked back over his shoulder, where light from the opened world spilled onto a landscape of darkness and coldness.

A lone mirror stands at the center.

She wasn’t there.

But the hissing and pain of his tattoos had stopped.

Viktor slowly closed the door. He turned back to the audience and forced the corners of his lips to stretch.

“I know, right?”

I’m in love with a fairytale

Turquoise-colored eyes fluttered open with their beautiful silver lashes. The sight before them was familiar: a sea of indistinct faces, blurring into the colorful background behind the gleaming horizon of ice and light and white. Everywhere the eyes swept, the images couldn’t imprint on their memory long enough as the owner gracefully turned around and around and around. The dancing man outstretched his arms, beckoning to the empty air.

It remained empty.

Even though it hurts

Snow fell softly on the dimly-lit garden. Seated, Viktor stared up into the dark sky, his arms around his beloved dog. The world was quiet and there was no spotlight or camera flash for Viktor to pose for. Not a soul was in sight for him to entertain.  

He was all alone.

But still, the air remained empty.

And deep inside, a hole in his soul grew larger as the days passed.

‘Cause I don’t care if I lose my mind

For every year that passed, the painful inward tugs of the coercive tattoos come and go. They were always the sign that Viktor needed to evolve even further.

His past self must die and be reborn to become stronger—better. He couldn’t let his rivals surpass him for long. He couldn’t let his audience feel bored.

But sometimes, when he’s alone with his thoughts, he would visit the abandoned sanctuary.

The mirror had become transparent glass.

I’m already cursed

Cameras flashed left and right, illuminating the proudly-smiling and charismatic face of Viktor as he held up his gold medal for the world to see.

But the low thrumming of the tattoos were just underneath his costume. He had to change—to unfurl as a new flower—once again.

I’m at the end of my rope. At some point, I’ll have to stop spinning for the world.

Viktor smiled just a little bit wider. He can evolve.

In the darkness, a faint cracking could be heard.

She’s a fairytale, yeah

“A commemorative photo? Sure.”

Viktor couldn’t help his eyes widening by a fraction when the bespectacled man he was one-sidedly talking to just turned away from him without any goodbye whatsoever.

Deep within his core, a familiar tug ached… and brought him back to a time when he lifted his fingertips off that glass.

Viktor turned back to Yakov and Yuri. Just another reminder of the past. Nothing to it.

At least the man had looked horrified at him before he left. That was a nice difference.

Even though it hurts

“Be my coach, Viktor!”

Viktor stared—gaped—unbelieving at the slurred words of the giddy Japanese man clinging to him—who had, only hours before, walked away from the five-time consecutive Grand Prix Final champion like said champion was nothing.

A resounding crack of glass—a shiver—reverberated through him—within him—and Viktor barely stopped himself from letting out an effervescent sob.

‘Cause I don’t care if I lose my mind

When he caught wind of a perfect copy of his winning FS routine for the Worlds already viral online, Viktor’s brows unabashedly cocked in surprise. That wasn’t anything new—some skaters had tried the same throughout the years.

But the way people were reacting to it piqued his curiosity.

Now, lying on his sofa with Makkachin resting on him as he watched the aforementioned video for the fifth time, Viktor understood and respected their awe.

Yuuri Katsuki was something else.

There was no music—only the song of his skates making love with the ice—and yet, Viktor could hear every single note of the familiar melody as if he was right there with him.

A swish of silver hair and tinkling laughter flashed before his mind’s eyes and his lips thinned, bitten inside to prevent him from making any noise.

The video finished too soon for his taste. Unbidden, a small voice asked—whispered—for another replay.

Viktor didn’t hesitate to heed it.

I’m already cursed

“I want to eat pork cutlet bowls with you, Viktor.”

Short silver hair swished to fully turn to Yuuri and turquoise-colored eyes widened in surprise and confusion at the wish of the skater.

“I want to keep on winning, and keep on eating pork cutlet bowls!”

Viktor blinked, the words resurfacing buried images in his mind—of the proud roar of a crowd, of the satisfying weight of a medal around his neck, of the wonderful feeling of his precious mane slipping through his fingers as he lets the rush of the wind toy with it.

“So I’ll skate to ‘Eros’!”

There must be something else I can do to surprise the world. The tattoos had tugged harder, urging him to think of anything. This can’t be the end.

“I’ll give it all the eros I’ve got!”

When Viktor had arrived in Japan, he had convinced himself that this was the path he had been seeking. Yuuri Katsuki had provided that with his drunken plea to him back at the banquet months ago, and after seeing him copy Viktor’s routine, the silver-haired man clung to this hope that he can still evolve—still change and wow the crowd—through this.

But now, seeing the Japanese man boldly declare to him that he was going to fight for a chance to eat with Viktor—to be with Viktor—well…

For the first time in a long while, the searing curse entwined around him and the seeking shadows of that long-abandoned sanctuary stilled for just a moment as Viktor smiled vibrantly, genuinely happy with Yuuri’s wish.

I’m already cursed

The tattoos curl around him for the nth time, and Viktor lets his previous smile linger into just a plain line as the stark whiteness of the outside world’s sanctuary—his new sanctuary—enveloped him completely.

I’m already…

The need to push himself—to extend the rope even further, to exert every last drop of his strength into staying, to hold on until he was forced to let go—curls around him.

Yeah…

His new mirror reflects the sickly white of the place. His hair looks almost non-existent amidst the light.

…

“I hate you.”

The mirror is silent.

No one’s home.

No...

“Viktor?”

No.

A tinkle of familiar laughter.

But when Viktor blinked at a worried Yuuri suddenly so close to his face, the laughter seemed so far away.

No…?

“Is everything okay…?”

Viktor couldn’t help the sudden, quiet intake of breath. Yuuri was a vision in blue. He’s seen the outfit several times already, but never in that color—and for once, he’s glad he let Yuuri choose the shade.

I’m… not?

He lifted his adoring eyes, sparkling in warmth when he notices the dark-haired skater’s pink cheeks.

“H-How do I look…?”

I’m not… cursed…?

Viktor laughs quietly, and the phantom pain from the past ebbs away even further.

“You look beautiful, Yuuri.”

No… I’m not cursed.

“S-So do you!”

Viktor smiles softly. Yuuri was getting nervous again. But this wasn’t something he couldn’t handle.

I’m not.

Now, on the glittering stage they both knew and love so much—with only the lights up above illuminating their story, Viktor inhales and holds his head up high.

Not while I’m with you.

When he fell for Yuuri Katsuki, he realized with shame how much of an idiot he actually is. The sanctuary of white was abysmal, at best, but all this time—even when he came to be with Yuuri and learned to love Yuuri—he never bothered to look around. It had been a self-punishment of sorts.

But just because he had torn himself from his old comfort zone didn’t mean that he couldn’t learn to make this new one comforting.

Viktor looked down. His breath hitched.

He was stepping on a mirror.

The entire floor was a mirror.

A long mane of vibrant silver swayed on the other side, and turquoise eyes widened as its younger version crinkled happily back at him.

Viktor took a step.

His long-lost girl took the step with him.

This time, Viktor didn’t bother stopping his sobs.

His precious girl never left—never disappeared when he did without warning.

She simply found another way to stay.  

So please…

“If I win this dance-off, you’ll become my coach, right?”

“I want to eat pork cutlet bowls with you, Viktor.”

“I’m going to become a super tasty pork cutlet bowl, so please watch me!”

“I want you to stay who you are, Viktor!”

“Viktor is the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold on to. I don’t really have a name for that emotion, but I have decided to call it ‘love.’ Now that I know what love is and am stronger for it, I’ll prove it to myself with a Grand Prix Final gold medal!”

“Don’t ever take your eyes off me.”

“Just have more faith than I do that I’ll win! You don’t have to say anything. Just stand by me!”

“I’ll show my love to the whole of Russia.”

“Please be my coach until I retire!”

“I-I’ll try my best from tomorrow on so… tell me something for good luck!”

“After the Finals, let’s end this.”

“Please stay with me in competitive figure skating for one more year! This time, I’ll win gold for sure!”

Please stay.

Turquoise-colored eyes fluttered open with their beautiful silver lashes. The sight before them was familiar: a sea of indistinct faces, blurring into the colorful—dimmed—background behind the gleaming horizon of ice and light and white. Everywhere the eyes swept, the images couldn’t imprint on their memory long enough as the owner gracefully turned around and around and around. The dancing man outstretched his arms, beckoning to the empty air.

Another pair of hands gripped them and Viktor squeezed back.

Viktor smiled softly, his eyes only for him—for the beautiful creature whose gaze stole his heart, whose voice woke him up, whose touch wiped his tattoos. The other man laughed, eyes crinkling as the brilliant colored lights of the stadium bore down upon his jet-black hair and creamy skin.

Yuuri wasn’t a replacement for his old dancing partner. Far from it.

Viktor could feel his little girl moving within him, eagerly shadowing his movements as they led their partner—lover—on this intimate dance.

Stay close to me.

And never leave.

Yuuri smiled up at him, drawing close as they switched places and he held Viktor tenderly.

Man and girl, one as can be, sighed in content… and embraced him back.

Yuuri is his muse—his life and love.

“Viktor! Long time no see! Wow, you look great!”

Viktor smiled at Yuko as he entered Ice Castle. They were back in Japan after training in Russia. “Hey, Yuko!”

“Oh, you’re growing out your hair, huh?”

At the mention, the skater’s hand went up to smooth his silver mane back, still unused to finding a hair tie on it. It’s been a while.

“Well, I found out that Yuuri really liked it long back then, so…” he trailed off teasingly, sharing a conspiratorial grin with Yuko as the aforementioned male joined them in the lobby.

“Hm? My hair?”

Yuuri nodded, leaning back against the sofa’s backrest as Viktor lied his head down on his lap, idly watching the television in their apartment’s living room.

“Why’d you cut it back then?”

Viktor’s answered the question so many times already that it comes almost automatically to him. But remembering that this was Yuuri—his Yuuri—asking, he paused and pondered on what to say.

“No reason, really. I guess I was just getting tired of it being so long and decided I should change things up.” In the end, he couldn’t think of a better-sounding answer.

Yuuri hummed in reply, carding his fingers through Viktor’s crowning glory spilled on his thighs.

Viktor looked up at him. “Why? Do you like it longer?”

Yuuri’s used to his teasing by now, but he still couldn’t play off the blush on his cheeks. “W-Well… I’m just remembering how beautiful you looked with it…”

Viktor pouted. His little girl giggled softly at his silly envy. “Why? Don’t I look beautiful right now?”

He expected Yuuri to flounder, but was taken aback when the other replied almost immediately, “You do.”

Turquoise eyes widened, and his girl and his heart both gasped in disbelief at the pure happiness the two words evoked deeply within them. His sanctuary flickered like a shining prism.

“So…” The fingers combing his head hadn’t faltered in their movements. “Do you want to see me like that again?”

Now they did. And Viktor found with glee that Yuuri’s expression reserved only for him never stops filling him with life.

“Why are you two looking at me like that…?” asked Yuuri warily, looking back and forth between the two. Viktor couldn’t help flashing him a mischievous grin.

“No reason…” he drawled with a wiggle of his eyebrows, twirling a piece of his silver locks that were already reaching past his shoulders.

Yuuri jolted, turning his head away—but his ears were obviously red.

“C-C’mon already! D-Didn’t you say you wanted to s-skate?!”

As Yuko and Viktor laughed at Yuuri’s frazzled composure, Viktor inwardly smiled and let himself be pulled back into his sanctuary.

He didn’t know when and how, but the old one eventually melded with his new one, a door no longer separating the two together. The mirror floor was as beautiful as ever, but unlike the ice, this one granted Viktor clear view of himself and the things in his sanctum. His girl was with him, as usual, and she started dancing to silent music as the colors bled and spilled into their place, ever-changing and vibrant as the lights hit them. Viktor stared down at her fondly, watching her skate along her side of the mirror.

The tattoos were slithering on him again—never truly erased—but this time… they compelled Viktor to join her.

To join him.

Viktor brought himself back to the outside world, where Yuuri was waiting for him on the rink. He hurriedly tied his laces with a smile on his face.

Funny, he thought to himself. His cheeks would always hurt from smiling too much, but this time, he didn’t mind it at all. He liked it.

Now, come, my love…

His excited eyes quickly spotted Yuuri as he entered the rink.

People say you can’t love someone else if you don’t love yourself.

Yuuri kicked off with his favorite triple axel, cleanly landing as his arms gracefully balanced his body.

Bullshit.

Viktor’s lips twitched when his fearless girl intoned her similar thoughts passionately alongside his.

I’ve never loved myself.

A hazy world filled with dimmed memories came to him and he didn’t fight it for once.

But you…

Then, hazel orbs caught his turquoise ones, and despite the distance and its poor eyesight, they held on to his almost stubbornly.

Oh god, you…

They sparkled when Viktor came closer, so much closer.

I loved you so much, I forgot what hating myself felt like.

Then they fluttered close and so did Viktor’s, as they let their unheard song guide their heartbeats on what dance to do.

Join me in this fairytale

And let’s never let it end.

This is the incomplete tale of the Accursed Man named Viktor Nikiforov—who thought that he was cursed, but it was only in his mind.

Come.

See the current dance finish in rapture.

Let the song of the ice soothe your souls.

Make the spotlights your allies in this wonderful stage we call life.

Now, as lover and lover spin slowly to a halt, tucking their blades into a dramatic pose…

A crashing crescendo deafens the silence.

And the crowd roars in applause, yelling for an encore.

A/N:

Right, you probably want my explanation on this mindfuckery now.

Well, when I first thought of a birthday fic for Viktor, I figured a song fic would be better and won't take much time. (It did, though. Fuck you, writer's block.) Since I'm too obsessed with Alexander Rybak's Fairytale, I immediately saw a good analogy for him there (and an even more literal one with Georgi, but I'll explain that on his own oneshot). This was inspired specifically by this post, about one of the headcanons on why Viktor cut his long hair. I waited for the anime to finish so that I could properly arrange my thoughts on this headcanon and how it would've affected his life until the end of Season 1.

Viktor's oneshot is the poetic, figurative, and symbolic side of the song Fairytale (while Georgi's is the literal). His little girl is his inner self, and I've applied this symbolism liberally—and now, whether it denotes his feminine side, his gay side, or his soft side is all up to you readers. All I know is, during his life as a skater, he had to give up lots of things or turn his back on them, and for me, one of that was his old self. (I like the idea that he sees her as his skating partner back then.) When he met Yuuri, he gained another view on life and managed to reconnect with his past. And now, he's happier and healthier inside, because he had never wanted to lose his past self in the first place. That's not to say he's lost his maturity or something—more like, when he was younger, he was so dependent on that side of him, but now that he's grown as a person and he reunites with her, he becomes even better because he can now clearly see so many things that he had ignored up until that point.

(Am I making sense? Maybe you guys can just chalk it up to poetic license.)

I took a lot of scenes and lines from the anime that fit so well with this. Think you can find them all? :D

Also, the last batch of monologue when Viktor joins Yuuri skating in Ice Castle is a tribute to this post. It had Yuuri saying those lines about Viktor, but we all know that it can also go both ways, right? :3

All in all, Viktor Nikiforov is a complex man and I can't wait to see more of him in Season 2. After all, this fairytale isn't over yet, is it? :D

Belated happy birthday, you silly Russian man.

(someone hold me writing this hurt my heart omg)

Georgi’s side (Part 2 of the Two Sides of a Fairytale series)

#Yuri on Ice #Yuri!!! on Ice #YOI #YOI!!! #Victuuri #Viktuuri #Viktor Nikiforov #Victor Nikiforov #Yuuri Katsuki #Yuri Katsuki #Alexander Rybak #Ara's writings #fanfics #at least Tumblr won't persecute me for artfully presenting lyrics #yoi fanfic #yuri on ice fanfic

[5raysofsunshine]

100 This or That Questions: My Replies!

Thanks anon for wanting me to answer them all! Hope my answers didn’t disappoint! Also, if anyone has questions for me, I’m down to answer them!

1. Coffee or tea? - Depends on the occasion, but I’ve been trying to be more of a tea person. 2. Black and white or color? - Damn, umm... I’d have to go with Black and White. #classic 3. Drawings or paintings? - I can’t personally paint for shit, but I can sketch. But I enjoy looking at paintings and watching the process of it being done. Then again, I love all kinds of art mediums (I go to art school soooo). 4. Dresses or skirts? - Dresses for sure, even though I don’t ever wear them. That way you don’t have to worry about trying to find a nice shirt to go with the skirt, since you know, a dress is one whole piece of clothing.  5. Books or movies? - Books, duh. Literature is lit my dude. 6. Pepsi or Coke? - Raised with Pepsi, but slowly transitioning to Coke. 7. Chinese or Italian? - Both, I haven’t had Chinese food in forever though so I’m leaning more towards that right now. 8. Early bird or night owl? - Night Owl for sure, especially as of late. 9. Chocolate or vanilla? - Raised vanilla, but slowly transitioning to Chocolate. 10. Introvert or extrovert? - Both, I’m constantly going back and forth.  11. Hugs or kisses? - Depends on the person. 12. Hunting or fishing? - Neither? 13. Winter or summer? - WINTER ALL THE WAY 14. Spring or fall? - FALL ALL THE WAY 15. Rural or urban? - Raised rural, slightly becoming more urbanized, but honestly don’t really care. 16. PC or Mac? - PC, I don’t know how Apple Products work.  17. Tan or pale? - Pale, though I appreciate being tan right now. 18. Cake or pie? - Cake cake cake cake cake cake cake!!! 19. Ice cream or yogurt? - Ice Cream, for sure. 20. Ketchup or mustard? - Depends on what it’s going on. 21. Sweet pickles or dill pickles? - Dill pickles, duh. 22. Comedy or mystery? - Comedy, unless the mystery is more like a psychological thriller where you think you know what’s going on but then you’re figuring out new things as you go and you’re all confused at the end? ‘Cause those are my faves. 23. Boots or sandals? - Boots, 112%. 24. Silver or gold? - Silver, goes better with my skin tone. 25. Pop or Rock? - Both?  26. Dancing or singing? - If I absolutely had to choose between the two, I think I’d pick singing over dancing. Done both for years, but singing is more important to me. 27. Checkers or chess? - Chess, used to play with my dad all the time. I suck, but I’ve slowly gotten better (I think). 28. Board games or video games? - Board Games! #classic 29. Wine or beer? - Depends on the occasion, and I can’t really pick since I haven’t had either in a while. 30. Freckles or dimples? - Freckles! I love my own and I love them on other people (freckled shoulders are my weakness). 31. Honey mustard or BBQ sauce? - Damn, gonna have to go with BBQ sauce.  32. Body weight exercises or lifting weights? - Both and neither at the same time. Wish I could do them, but I can’t because I’m feeble and I don’t have time. 33. Baseball or basketball? - Both? Baseball for pitching, Basketball for just shooting baskets. Don’t really care about the sports in general. 34. Crossword puzzles or sudokus? - Crossword Puzzles! Used to do Sudoku when I was younger, but I’m so bad with numbers. 35. Facial hair or clean shaven? - In my past experiences with men, a little scruff isn’t bad, but can’t deal with actual beard. Bugs me too much. 36. Crushed ice or cubed ice? - Crushed, duh. 37. Skiing or snowboarding? - Both and Neither? Never done either, and I think both are interesting but I ain’t down. 38. Smile or game face? - Both? Depends on the occasion/person? 39. Bracelet or necklace? - Bracelet for sure, but also I’m more of a ring person in general. 40. Fruit or vegetables? - Both! But fruits are much more preferred. 41. Sausage or bacon? - Damn, that’s a tough one... Both! I can’t pick! 42. Scrambled or fried? - Scrambled, with a shit ton of cheese mixed in. 43. Dark chocolate or white chocolate? - Neither, Milk Chocolate all the way. 44. Tattoos or piercings? - Tattoos, duh. 45. Antique or brand new? - Depends, but I think I’m probably more of a modern/contemporary person, so Brand New. 46. Dress up or dress down? - Dress up, I wanna look nice. I hate wearing sweats in public, it makes me feel weird. 47. Cowboys or aliens? - Cowboys. Sorry Aliens, but I ain’t down in being abducted. 48. Cats or dogs? - DOGS DOGS DOGS DOGS but also cats, I don’t discriminate against cute fluffy friends. 49. Pancakes or waffles? - Both, but also neither. I prefer French Toast. 50. Bond or Bourne? - Bond, duh! 51. Sci-Fi or fantasy? - Honestly? Neither. 52. Numbers or letters? - Letters, duh! I’m a writer, what did you expect me to pick? 53. Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings? Harry Potter, I’ve never enjoyed the Lord of the Rings series and I don’t think I ever will. Sorry to disappoint. 54. Fair or theme park? - Fair, because food and games. Don’t care about rides. 55. Money or fame? - What’s the difference? Ha, kidding. Fame, I like it when people notice me and I want to inspire others like how others inspire me. 56. Washing dishes or doing laundry? - I love doing laundry, but it seems as though I always do dishes and never have time for laundry. It makes me sad. 57. Snakes or sharks? - Sharks!!! 58. Orange juice or apple juice? - Orange juice is bae. 59. Sunrise or sunset? - Hmm, honestly I prefer sunrise. I’m just never awake for it anymore.  60. Slacker or over-achiever? - Slacker, sadly. I am a major procrastinator and I’m also super lazy. So fun. 61. Pen or pencil? - Raised using pencils, but now I prefer pens. But only like specific pens that I know work really well. 62. Peanut butter or jelly? - Peanut Butter, 112%. 63. Grammys or Oscars? - Grammys, the outfits are always so interesting and the performances are killer. 64. Detailed or abstract? - Detailed, for sure. 65. Multiple choice questions or essay questions? - Multiple Choice! Who the hell actually prefers Essay Questions??? 66. Adventurous or cautious? - A little bit of both, depends on the occasion and how my mental state is. 67. Saver or spender? - Spender, sadly. I keep trying to save, but then I find new things to spend money on.  68. Glasses or contacts? - Glasses, even though I don’t wear mine regularly. 69. Laptop or desktop? - Laptops are practical, but there’s something about working on a desktop that makes me feel so nostalgic and more professional. 70. Classic or modern? - Depends on what we’re talking about here. 71. Personal chef or personal fitness trainer? - Personal Fitness Trainer, I wanna be able to make my own food and then be able to get into shape. 72. Internet or cell phone? - That’s a really stupid question, I need both to survive. Haha. 73. Call or text? - Depends on the situation, but probably Text since it’s more convenient?  74. Curly hair or straight hair? - Curls are so cute and I love it when my waves are more curly ugh it’s wonderful. 75. Shower in the morning or shower in the evening? - Neither, I shower in the afternoons. 76. Spicy or mild? - Mild, I can’t handle much heat. Which is sad, because I’m Half Mexican and I can’t keep up with that side of the family. 77. Marvel or DC? - Honestly, both but I’m leaning more towards DC. 78. Paying a mortgage or paying rent? Idk man, I have yet to pay either. 79. Sky dive or bungee jump? - NEITHER OH MY GOD NO NO NO NO NO 80. Oreos or Chips Ahoy? - Chips Ahoy, for sure. 81. Jello or pudding? - Jello, especially if they’re Jello Shots. ;) 82. Truth or dare? - Truth, I am a coward. Though usually, if I’m being dared to do something, it involves kissing other people (once had a round where I kissed like 4-5 girls in the same night). Ahh, memories. 83. Roller coaster or Ferris wheel? - NEITHER BUT ESPECIALLY NOT A FUCKING ROLLER COASTER NO NO NO NO NO 84. Leather or denim? - Both, but I actually prefer denim. It’s weird. 85. Stripes or solids? - Solids, duh. 86. Bagels or muffins? - Damn, I love them both! Oooh, but a chocolate chip muffin sounds sooooo good right now!  87. Whole wheat or white? Neither, Sourdough all the way. 88. Beads or pearls? Pearls. #classic 89. Hardwood or carpet? - Hardwood, 112%. 90. Bright colors or neutral tones? - Neutral tones, for sure. 91. Be older than you are or younger than you are? - Huh, I’m not sure. I’d say older because drinking legally, but that means more responsibilities. I think I’d have to go with younger, since it gives me more time to plan and figure out adult things before I have to actually do adult things. 92. Raisins or nuts? - Nuts, especially Cashews.  93. Picnic or nice restaurant? - Picnic!!! That’s like my dream date. 94. Black leather or brown leather? - Both! 95. Long hair or short hair? - Long hair, even though it’s annoying to take care of sometimes. 96. “Ready, aim, fire” or “Ready, fire, aim”? - What the hell kind of question is that? The first one? 97. Fiction or non-fiction? Non-Fiction, because 1) I write it all the time (I like writing about my love life and stuff), and 2) I like learning about other people’s personal lives. 98. Smoking or non-smoking? - Smoking, since I smoke both cigarettes and weed (not so proud of the cigs, but weed is great). 99. Think before you talk or talk before you think? - Oh boy I wish I could think before I talk, that would save me from causing so much trouble. 100. Asking questions or answering questions? - I love being asked questions, because it helps me believe that people are actually interested in getting to know me. So if you all ever have any questions for me, feel free to ask away!

#ask me things #send me things #tumblr asks #questions #replies to questions #enjoy #anon asks #this took forever #now i have to go take a quick shower before being responsible