#does anyone else make it a personal goal to shoot every crow they can? it’s just satisfying to see them pop like that

[fisheadz]

I’ve got like 14 different notes in my ISM folder, and half of them are just things like random minor characters, or misc notes I’ve found. The other half are chapters and stuff. Here’s some story-irrelevant dialogue I got, because there’s so much random stuff that it feels endless.

Tonia

“Don’t let that flashlight run outta of juice! Let’s be honest, your eyes are not as good as mine.”

“Having trouble? Have you tried… getting gud?”

“What? Never seen a talking cat before?”

Desmond

“Sup, Dave. Thanks for that locker key.”

Agent Rainbow

“Is your next step going to be your last? What danger lurks at the next corner? Who’s got their sights trained on you right now? Welcome to uncertainty.”

“So… Mr. Desmond Wales… sorry… DOCTOR Desmond Wales.” Laughing “Tell me… what good is a PhD if the world around you is crumbling? I’d like to see you put your head to the test. I won’t lie though, I’d much rather see you die trying.”

“This is the Milton Haven Housing Department. Due to multiple of complaints from the other tenants, we’ve no choice but to evict you, Mr. Wales. We’ve warned you. You can’t keep leaving your dead patients out in the hallway, it’s a nuisance! You have until Monday to get your ass out of the building.”

“What do you think you’re doing by "uncovering" all of this? (I’m making quotation marks with my hands). You’re only making it easier for them to come for you too!”

AR’s phone calls are very funny to me, idk why. Not many from Tonia since o don’t have the patience (ironic) to sit in the office to get her dialogue. Only one from Desmond cos I thought the tripping sequence was funny.

Rainbow being jealous of Max cos he thinks Max will kill Desmond is so funny, like dude chill, we know it’s your job now go do your vertical breakdancing somewhere else.

[lamujerarana]

37, Spideytorch

Johnny has decided that he loathes high-society charity parties. The only reason he ever goes to them is because he’s an awesome younger brother and he wants to support his older sister.

It’s totally not because she’s completely intimidating and he’s a little bit afraid of her when she’s pissed because she makes him do things like cleaning the hangar bay with a toothbrush, just because he played an amazingly hilarious prank on Ben that left a huge mess, and she didn’t think it was funny. It’s not his fault that Sue has zero sense of humor. It’s just a curse he has to bear.

Sue’s been going through this big philanthropy kick these days, so Johnny’s had to attend so many of these parties, and he hates every second of being at them. He wonders if making him go to these things is maybe her way of paying him back for being a pain in her ass, but no. Sue would never stoop so low. He thinks.

He supposes Sue’s obsession with these charities probably has something more to do with the fact that the FF are all famous and rich now, and what you do when you’re rich and powerful and famous is use all of that influence to help other people. He’s glad Sue’s into this, he really is, especially since it means he doesn’t have to be.

All he has to do is go where she tells him and smile when she says to and look pretty for the cameras. Which he’s very good at.

When Sue told him that this party was a themed costume party — pirates, specifically — Johnny’d cheered. At least that was fun. He spent a month working with one of the most famous designers in New York on making the sexiest pirate costume anyone’s ever seen.

He thinks he was pretty successful, judging by the angry shade of red Sue’s face had turned when she saw his amazingly sexy outfit and the way Reed and Ben had face-palmed and then spent most of the trip over here looking like they really wanted to gouge their own eyes out.

He knows they all still think of him as being somewhere around five years old, but he is nineteen years old and everyone who isn’t Ben, Reed, and Sue thinks he’s totally hot.

What, like their costumes are any better. Ben’s dressed like Blackbeard, of course, because he really is the historical Blackbeard (Johnny’s sure that’s all he’s going to be talking about all night, so he’s already made plans to steer clear), Reed’s wearing a lot of frills and lace and Johnny thinks that’s a feather, and it’s just not cool at all, even though he does look unfairly good in it, and Sue’s dressed like someone named Anne…something.

She could’ve dressed up like a pirate wench with tons of cleavage, but no. She is dressed like a dude.

This is why Johnny has to bear the burden of being the hottest person in the family alone. Sue could be hot if she tried, but she really doesn’t try.

Sue’s still mad that she didn’t get to go back in time and meet real pirates like the rest of them. Johnny can tell. The fact that she’s still mad is probably why she made this party pirate-themed in the first place. It’s been four years, and she should get over it, Johnny thinks.

Johnny pops another caviar-covered cracker into his mouth, and then he makes a face. God, he hates caviar. It’s so slimy.

Why can’t they ever have, like, mini-hot dogs or burgers at these things? He’ll have to suggest that to Sue for next time.

His eyes wander through the crowd, and then he sighs, disappointed. Everyone here must be over forty. They’re so old. And none of them are hot.

This is why he hates these parties.

He perks up, however, when he spots that editor, J. Jonah Jameson, who is old and wrinkly and so not hot, but he is accompanied by a brunet photographer who most definitely is young, smoking, and just Johnny’s type. His back is toward Johnny so he can’t really see his face, but what he sees is great.

The photographer is wearing pantaloons, a bandana on his head, and a green vest with nothing underneath, and it’s a good look, Johnny decides, especially when the guy turns around, because, man, oh man, his abs are amazing.

Johnny promises himself that he’s gonna put his mouth on those before the night is through. He has a goal, and he is determined.

His eyes flick up to the guy’s face, and he winces. Aw, crap. That’s Peter Parker, that nerd Johnny’s ex-girlfriend Dorrie always used to go on about (“he’s so smart and responsible and better than you in every way imaginable,” is what Dorrie’s snide comments had typically amounted to), and who Johnny has understandably come to hate.

Who the hell knew that he was built like that under those awful sweater vests? Or that his face was actually not terrible underneath those very unflattering glasses and that gross haircut?

He’s filled out in the shoulders since Johnny saw him last, which was probably about a year ago. Johnny hired Peter to follow him around and take photos of him, and it’d ended badly, to say the least. Johnny had gone bald after he got frozen during a fight with Doom and that jackass Spider-Man had chipped all of Johnny’s hair off, and Johnny hadn’t been able to show his face in public for a month.

Spider-Man probably loved the whole thing, that jerk.

Johnny kind of doesn’t want to go talk to Peter because he knows it’ll be awkward given that Peter’s, like, his former employee, but also there’s no one else to flirt with, so he might as well give it a shot.

He weaves through the crowd and taps Peter on one of his nice, broad, muscly shoulders. Peter’s busy taking pictures of the crowd, which means he’s probably working or something, and he’ll probably be glad that Johnny’s brightening his day.

Peter’s eyes widen when he sees Johnny’s standing there, and then they narrow. Well, that’s not a good sign, but Johnny is nothing if not determined.

“Hey,” Johnny says, flashing his most charming smile at Peter, the one that makes all the girls and guys go weak in the knees, guaranteed, “what brings you here?”

Peter’s knees disappointingly do not go weak. “I’m working, Torch,” he says flatly. “Go bug someone else.”

Johnny would, but there’s no one else worth bugging. “Geez,” he says. “What’s got you so upset?”

Peter looks at Johnny as though he can’t quite believe him. “You never paid me for those photos I took of you.”

“Didn’t I?” Johnny says. “My bad. Send me the bill.”

“I did. You didn’t pay it.”

“Oh,” Johnny says. “I don’t really check my mail. Send it to my sister. She’ll pay it. She’s all…” He waves his hand around. “…responsible, and stuff.”

“All right,” Peter says, and then he mumbles something about how he could really use the cash.

Peter goes back to snapping pictures like the conversation is over, and he seems surprised when he realizes that Johnny’s still standing there. “Uh,” he says. “Was there something else?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it.” He might as well go for it, he supposes. He holds out a hand and says, “Wanna dance?”

Peter’s eyes narrow at the hand Johnny’s stretching out. He gestures toward the camera he is holding in his hands. “I’m working, Torch. For people who actually pay me at the end of the night.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna pay you. It’s not like I can’t afford it.” He wiggles his hand at Peter. “C’mon. You must get breaks or something.”

“I just got here. So no, not yet.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Well, when do you get a break, and will you dance with me then?”

Peter glances over at Johnny as though he’s trying hard to figure something out. “Why are you so interested in dancing with me?”

“Well,” Johnny says, “in case you haven’t noticed, everyone else here is like eighty.”

“Ah,” Peter says, like it’s all making sense now, “so you’re desperate and I’m literally the only option you have. Figures.”

“It’s not like that,” Johnny says, scowling. “You…look better than I remember you looking.”

Peter shoots him a wry look. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“You have abs,” Johnny says. “They’re nice. And the new haircut is an improvement. And I’m glad you lost those glasses. You look…not terrible.”

Peter looks amused. “Are you saying you actually think I’m hot?”

“I’m saying I don’t think you’re…not hot.”

Peter snorts. “Oh, wow. I’m so flattered.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Fine!” he says grumpily. “You’re totally hot, and will you dance with me?”

Peter looks at Johnny as though he can’t quite believe Johnny just said that. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“I told you your abs were nice,” Johnny shrugs. “What did you think I meant?”

“I don’t…know?”

“You should consider never wearing a shirt again,” Johnny says. “You’ve got the abs, might as well show them off.”

“I don’t think that’s practical, Torch.”

“It’s good fashion advice.”

Peter’s eyes flick down. “Says the man in striped hot pants.”

“I look hot,” Johnny sniffs. “Admit it.”

Peter doesn’t say anything.

“Ha!” Johnny crows. “You do think I look hot!”

“Your abs are…nice,” Peter says, and Johnny’s pretty sure he’s trying not to smile.

“I know,” Johnny says, preening. “So does this mean you’ll dance with me?”

“Yeah, fine. Just. Don’t let my boss see us, yeah?”

Johnny tries not to smile too gleefully as Peter takes his hand and leads him toward the dance floor.

This is turning out to be a better night than he thought it’d be.

[eldritchsurveys]

277.

601. Do you have a lust for life? >> Sometimes. I can’t imagine maintaining that sort of fervour all the time. 602. Do you want to get more out of life? >> Sure, in the sense that I want to... be more present, I guess you’d say. Sometimes I get all wrapped up in my brain shit and whole days will pass where I’m just... completely disinterested in anything but shitty obsessive brain spirals. I hate that. 603. Would you want to learn to: Convert to Buddhism? >> The way I understand the sects of Buddhism that I’ve been interested in, it isn’t really necessary to... convert to it. Maybe some of the more stringent sects require a conversion, but I wouldn’t be too interested in those anyway. Regardless, I wouldn’t ever be “a Buddhist” or anything, I just dig the philosophy. Cure a hangover? >> I don’t get hangovers, but regardless, there is no cure. You just gotta ride it out and try not to do anything stupid while doing so (like... drinking more...). Eating and drinking water helps you feel a little better, because both of those things are good for you in general, but it’s not “curing” the hangover. Lie persuasively? >> I think I am well enough at lying, for my purposes.

604. What character from a movie is most like you? >> I’ve seen way too many movies to answer this. But also, I don’t really find characters like me in movies. I’m about seven minorities in a trenchcoat, for one, and for another, I don’t think I make for a very compelling character model.

605. Are you comfortable with the idea of your own death? >> Not really, but it’s a goal of mine to grow more comfortable with it. I mean, if I’m going to die anyway, I might as well be as comfortable with it as I can be. It’s important to me. 606. How do you feel about arranged marriages? >> I definitely wouldn’t want to be in one, and that’s the extent of my opinion. I can’t dictate what’s good or bad for other people. 607. What do you hate that everyone else seems to like? >> *shrug* 608. What do you like that others seem to hate? >> *shrug* 609. If you had to be named after a month, which month would you pick? >> August. 610. Is time more like a highway or a meadow to you? >> A meadow. But really, it’s more like a sea to me. 611. What is your favorite movie? >> The Fountain. 612. Which would you choose to be back in the day: a warrior, an alchemist, a minstrel, a bard, an oracle, a peasant, or a merchant? >> I’m not sure. 613. What is your favorite song lyric? >> I really can’t begin to think of an answer to this. 614. What will you never run out of? >> *shrug* 615. If you could force someone to fall madly in love with you, (anyone you choose) would you do it? >> I am allergic to the idea of forcing someone to fall in love with me. 616. Have you ever seen the Disney movie The Black Cauldron? >> No. 617. Have you ever read The Black Cauldron by Alexander Lloyd (or any of his other books in the Prydain Chronicles)? >> No. 618. Have you ever written a paper the night before it was due? >> Probably. How about the day it was due? >> Probably. 619. Is there a movie you have watched so many times that you can quote it line for line? >> No, but not because I haven’t seen any movies a shitton of times, but because I have an abysmal memory for movie lines. I’ve seen Event Horizon at least 30 times by now but I can’t remember any of the lines except like, a line or two from really pivotal moments. What I can remember are songs -- so, like, Repo! the Genetic Opera, Labyrinth and The Prince of Egypt? I know just about every song. 620. What is your favorite season? >> Spring. 621. Do you mind being described as cute? >> I’ll allow it, but it’s not my favourite adjective. Still, I understand that people mean it as a compliment and I’m not going to shoot them down for being kind. 622. What is the tackiest object in your home? >> I don’t think any of the stuff in here is tacky. I think that word and the spirit behind it is rude. 623. What do you think people are most ignorant towards? >> Oh, I don’t know. 624. What is it that makes you an interesting person? >> I am driven by curiosity and interest in a wide variety of things, and openness to new ideas.  625. What makes other people interesting to you? >> When they are also driven by curiosity and are open to new ideas and experiences. Also, if they have a lot of experience with or knowledge of an area that I lack experience in/knowledge of, because then I can learn something new. 626. How open to suggestion are you? >> Pretty open, sometimes to the point of straight-out gullibility. 627. Is Michael Jackson black or white? >> Black. This question is not cute. 628. Are you often lonely? >> Yes. 629. What’s the most unusual pet you’ve ever had? >> I’ve had no unusual pets. 630. Have you ever threatened an authority figure? >> Not that I recall. 631. If you had to choose would you rather make all your decisions henceforth with your head only or with your heart only? >> Ideally, I’d make all my decisions with both emotional investment and rationality. Makes no real sense otherwise. 632. How imaginative are you? >> Very. 633. Do you like the Counting Crows? >> No. 634. If you took this survey from the diary (5000 Q Survey V2.0) did you note me so I could read it? >> LOL 635. Are you more tense or laid back? >> There are times when I’m tense, and there are times when I’m laid-back. 636. Does your happiness depend on anyone else, or are you happy no matter what any one says or does? >> My happiness very much depends on outside influences. It’d be naïve of me to assume that I can just... generate some kind of blithe happiness infinitely, without any input from the world I live in. If that were the case, why do anything at all? Why have relationships? Why have hobbies? Why watch television? Let’s be real. 637. What do you think of the idea of putting the bible into the format of a fashion magazine to attract the interest of teenagers? >> Heh. I used to have a “Teen Bible” and honestly, yeah, it was a lot more interesting to read for me than a “regular” Bible. It was a little corny at times, but that’s what often happens when adults try to write for teenagers. I understand the Christian church often gets a bit neurotic about trying to “keep the young ones in the pews”, so, you know, it is what it is. 638. How often do you drink to get drunk? >> Not as often as I used to. I don’t find being drunk nearly as interesting as I used to. Tipsy/buzzed usually does the trick well enough. 639. Would you consider yourself to be diplomatic? >> Yeah, because I don’t consider most things worth arguing with people about. Arguing doesn’t do anything but piss everyone off. 640. Do you think that most of the classes you have taken were taught in such a way as to make plain the relevance of the subject matter in your everyday life? >> No. 641. Do you remember Crystal Pepsi? >> I do. 642. When was the last time you spent a night away from home? >> I don’t remember. 643. Some people say that there is no such thing as a stupid question. Is that true? >> I really don’t care if it’s true or not, I think it’s rude to say to someone, “your question is stupid”. Like, what the fuck is the point of that, except to make them feel bad for asking, and possibly make them self-conscious about asking questions in the future? As someone who is driven by curiosity, that kind of shit is anathema to me. 644. What is the most interesting TV channel? >> I don’t know, I don’t watch tv channels. 645. Name one song you could live without hearing ever again: >> Meh. 646. Do your pets understand you when you talk? >> I don’t know what animals understand, and I wouldn’t attempt to assume. 647. What are three things you HAVE NOT done that might surprise people? >> I don’t know. 648. Have you ever had a secret admirer? >> No. 649. Have you been to a museum this year? >> No. 650. Do you ever watch porn? >> Sure do. Not as often as I used to, but I still keep my collection relatively tidy and up-to-date.

[juspeczyk]

i wanna know all about your ocs!!

cRACKS KNUCKLES.... RUBS MY HANDS TOGETHER.... SO

spooky boi over there is the prince ?? king ?? lord ?? ruler of a dead province, which died out from (1) him practicing magic/experimenting on his own people and (2) him becoming so preoccupied with learning magic that he completely ignored all of his actual duties. he was trained to use magic by death itself. he’s like a thousand years old at the very least, nobody really knows how long he’s been around for sure and at this point he exists more as a spooky legend than an actual like... menace or anything... like, he’s just There. Being Spooky. his castle is surrounded by miles and miles of wasteland and by wasteland i mean creepy dark scrub-plains filled with brambles and vague ruins of a civilization long since gone. his name is kilmalkhan [said kil MAL kan] because that’s the scariest fantasy name i could come up with lmao

sunshine baby girl is belanthea, she’s from a village relatively close to the wasteland, like, they can see the castle and supposedly the village was started by some emigrants from that province who left when they realized their king dude had just ollied out to have the biggest emo phase in the history of existence. she wants to be the world’s best healer!!! slash doctor!!! idk it’s a fantasy world and i feel weird calling her a doctor because she Specifically Wants To Learn Magic To Heal People Better Than Anyone Else. (side note: fuck outta here with that laws of magic bullshit. sure it’s fun but it defeats the entire purpose of magic being magic. magic works however the fuck magic wants to work in this world my dude. if belanthea wants to say abracablessyou and cure the common cold then she’s gonna do exactly that.) she goes to kilmalkhan because he’s the most powerful witch (wizard? warlock? sorcerer? why aren’t there any cool gender neutral terms for magic users @ d&d people fix this please) like... ever, at all, in the history of everything. again, this guy apprenticed under death and basically shirked all his responsibilities to nerd out over magic for 1000+ years. (what kind of goals, tbh...)

so yeah belanthea makes this arduous and mostly just really fucking annoying and inconvenient trek out to his castle in the middle of buttfuck nowhere and she’s like “hey i wanna learn magic” and he’s like “if you think i can just teach you magic then you’re an idiot. i’m the leonado da vinci of magic. the gordon ramsey. the lady gaga. you gotta start with some small shit like magical wax on wax off first, get outta here, stop wasting my time, i have brooding to do” so of course she is Not Happy and she’s like “first of all, i’m clearly exhausted and dehydrated and starving and you haven’t offered me any food or lodging, so fuck you, second of all, i know for a fact that you’re bored out of your mind because you’ve just been sitting around in a castle for hundreds of years, so fuck you, third of all, it’s your duty as the former political leader of my village’s ancestors to make a formal apology for the shit you pulled ages ago and you can do that by teaching me magic to be their doctor, so fuck you”

obviously. this is unexpected. and of course he’s bored out of his mind and lonely as absolute hell. he’s an idiot man who automatically shoos everyone away because he places no value on relationships. the fool. the absolute nincompoop. so he finally agrees to teach her after realizing that (1) he would be a MASSIVE prick not to (2) to even make the trek out here she probably does have some innate magical abilities so it’s not like he’d be starting from scratch (3) she really did just tear into him six ways from sunday and he doesn’t want this cute girl he just met to go back to her village and tell everyone what a fucking sad doofus he is. so they get to it and it turns out that she’s The Most Magical Person He’s Ever Met In His Entire Ridiculously Long Life?? just?? naturally??? she’s just Like That??? like what the fuck??? what the fuck???? he had to go through all these crazy summoning spells and ritual bargains and make sacrifices and she can just smile at some flowers and they start blooming????? what the FUCK

in the beginning he’s really hesitant and doubtful because his studies focused a lot on like... evading mortality, drawing life from one thing and giving it to another, summoning things from other planes, like he focused a lot on “dark” magic, and her focus is much more on nurturing and growing and healing living things and “good” magic. pretty soon though they both realize that there is a middle ground, because the core idea of both their studies is preserving life! so that’s cool and they get along a lot better after that. at one point they have the following discussion

mal: so you want to be the world’s greatest healer

thea: yes

mal: so your boyfriend is cursed?

thea: no?

mal: oh so your village has a terrible magic affliction then

thea: no

mal: then why did you come all the way out here???

thea: because i just want to make life better and easier for everybody? i want to be able to set broken bones instantly and painlessly? i want to make potions that ease pain without clouding the mind? i want to be able to save mothers and children and grandfathers who aren’t ready to die?that’s it? i just want to make the world a better place? why do i need some kind of greedy ulterior motive for that???

mal:

thea:

mal:

thea:

mal (internally, realizing he has now fallen head over heels in love): oh no

so yeah they teach each other stuff, belanthea becomes an amazingly powerful witch, possibly even more powerful than kilmalkhan, because her power comes from her altruism and her faith in people and Boy Howdy Does She Have Oodles Of That!!!!

fast forward and it’s been months?? maybe a year?? a long time... mal comes to her eventually and is like *mr. darcy voice* these past months have been a torment, end my agony, i love you, most ardently, please do the honor of accepting my hand!!! and she’s like..... (inhales) BOI............. of course you’re in love with me i’m the first person you talked to in centuries!!!! no!!!! i’m not marrying you!!! go walkabout!!! travel the world!!! spend a year or two learning to talk to people like a normal human being you dumbass!!! THEN come propose to me if you still feel this way!!!

so he does that-- but before he leaves he passes on his Official Title to her, which means she gets his castle, and all his cool magic shit, and his political influence, and his direct line to death in case she ever needs help with her sweet magic stunts-- he Humbles Himself and Goes Amongst The People and re-learns how to do normal human shit like carry a conversation and hold doors for the person behind you and make funny noises at cats in the hopes they don’t run away from you. she goes back to her village and starts healing people, and soon she is able to start traveling and working in other villages as her reputation (and power) grows.

after his ~year of socialization is up mal goes back and tracks thea down and probably does some extra goth nonsense shit like takes the form of a giant crow-vulture-man-monster and stands outside the wall like “hey is belanthea there”-- because listen. the guy is a terrifying inhuman monster witch. of course he’s gonna do something like that. but he’s also an awkward geek who just wants to say hi to his friend and apologize for being an asshole to her, so like, he’s not gonna DO anything, he’s just gonna stand there and look spooky. some guard sees this and is like HOLY FUCK THE DEVIL IS INVADING and shoots mal with arrows or whatever and it’s super dramatic and of course mal just pulls them out and bleeds his green blood everywhere like “bro what the fuck” and then belanthea shows up and if y’all thought spooky vulture boy was scary then HOOOOOOOOOO WAIT UNTIL YOU SEE THIS TINY WITCH... she goes full-on avatar state on this poor guard like “WHY ARE YOU SHOOTING THE SPOOKY IDIOT!! HE DID NOTHING YOU FOOL!! THIS IS WHY I’M TRYING TO INSTALL MANDATORY PUBLIC EDUCATION!!!!!!”

mal is more or less fine because he’s an immortal being of inhuman nature but belanthea heals him anyway and he’s like “hey this is probably a bad time but uhhhh i still have like a huge crush on you” and she’s like “honestly even if i didn’t like you back i’d still marry you because you’re a disaster who needs supervision”

so they get married and move back into the castle (her castle now) and she keeps all his cool titles and abilities and the wasteland flourishes and people move back and she heals everyone and there is free school and everything rocks forever

they’re mainly an amalgamation of dracula (specifically anime dracula from hellsing and castlevania lmao) and hades and persephone but there are other characters/narratives i tossed in there (see: the legend of holly claus, howl’s moving castle) because I Am Always So Weak For This Type Of Narrative And I Wanted To Combine All My Favorite Things Into One Cohesive Storyline

also this post just crossed my dashboard and i feel like “a necromancer is just a really late healer” sums up their entire relationship dynamic lmfao

other miscellaneous fun facts:

kilmalkhan has a crow/vulture motif because obviously those are carrion birds but they are also beautiful and i love them, and although they look spooky, they tend to just go about their business and be chill, which is a big mood for him

belanthea knew she was gonna marry that idiot the moment she met him but she also knew that she loves and respects herself and wasn’t going to marry that idiot until he stopped being an idiot

he thinks he kills every plant he touches because of his magic but he’s actually just a really shitty gardener. she fixes this

she lives almost exclusively on cheese and bread if left to her own devices because she’s an awful cook. he fixes this

they both are immortal because the basic mechanic of magic is that it comes from death, the earth, the stars, etc. and all of those are undying things, so the more a person uses magic the more “celestial” they will become. some people are born with the ability to channel magic, some learn it later in life, some can’t do any magic at all. belanthea and kilmalkhan were both born with ridiculously op magical abilities

when i say “no laws of magic” i mean it but like. certain ingredients do certain things, certain rituals have certain outcomes, it’s not like magic is this crazy deus ex machina force that people can toss around willy nilly. it takes discipline and study but it’s a lot less“you take the rock and soak it in moon-charged water on the third of june at 3:33 pm exactly and sprinkle seven grains of salt on it and leave it in a chicken’s nest for seven days and when you come back you must fish it out with your eyes closed and only then will it be gold” and a lot more “you point at a rock and wish really hard and it turns to gold”

mal has been using magic so long that he is completely inhuman. he only keeps the human form because it was what he was born in and what he’s used to. his blood is green. his skin is very cold (but he grows warmer the more he learns to socialize and be happy again). sometimes he inadvertently turns into a giant vulture-wolf-monster-dude. sometimes belanthea just wakes up in the middle of the night and finds said vulture-wolf-monster-dude curled up on her tummy like a cat

kilmalkhan would absolutely raze a nation if one (1) person looked at belanthea funny but everyone loves belanthea so it’s much more likely that someone will look at kilmalkhan funny and belanthea will turn into a terrifying angelic dryad to angrily lecture that person on not judging people by their appearance

[aion-rsa]

Why You Should Watch Black Summer on Netflix

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After a decade of The Walking Dead, Fear the Walking Dead, and The Walking Dead: World Beyond, I should be over the classic version of zombies. Most of the zombie media that have emerged from The Walking Dead’s long shadow have been things that have broken the mold. Anna and the Apocalypse is a coming-of-age musical. One Cut of the Dead is a heartwarming, hilarious take on what goes on behind the scenes of a movie set. Train to Busan adds claustrophobia to zombie proceedings, giving the survivors nowhere to run. Z Nation carved a niche for itself by having an actual sense of humor unlike the series it inspires. 

So what makes Black Summer (which comes from the folks behind Z Nation) stand out as one of the best streaming horror shows? Like The Walking Dead, the human characters of Black Summer are both capable and dangerous in their own respects. Unlike The Walking Dead, however, Black Summer’s zombies remain the biggest threat. There is no sanctuary for the survivors in Black Summer, and even in the safest of situations, it’s only a matter of time before something goes wrong. 

Better, Faster, Stronger Zombies

A fleeing survivor trips over a tree root, or their own two feet, and topples to the ground. The pursuing zombie falls on them, snarling and snapping. After an appropriate amount of MMA-style grappling, the survivor grabs a chunk of rock and with a well-aimed swing of the arm, smush goes the skull and the threat has ended. This is how zombie attacks typically play out on The Walking Dead. Other methods of establishing zombie danger include turning the undead into traps, or throwing walkers in bulk at the survivors and seeing whether that individual is overwhelmed.

The zombies on Black Summer are something else entirely. In much the same way as 28 Days Later, Black Summer’s zombies aren’t slow dummies with paper skulls, they’re people turned feral. Black Summer’s zombies aren’t traps or annoyances, they’re hunters, and they don’t sneak up on anything. Black Summer’s zombies charge onto the screen, taking advantage of the huge canvases painted by directors John Hyams and Abram Cox and cinematographers Yaron Levy and Spiro Grant by running into view at the rear of the frame and charging for a hundred yards or more before characters finally engage in shooting at them or fleeing from them. 

Shooting at the charging zombie is easier said than done, since most characters (even with the aid of scopes), are trying to hit a fast-moving target. If the zombie reaches someone and they’re left with no other choice but to club them, it’s going to take more than one or two hits to put the zombie down; these are human beings, and human beings are tough to stop because skulls don’t magically stop protecting the brain from blunt force trauma at the moment of reanimation. 

Read more

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One zombie against one person isn’t a cakewalk; multiple zombies against one person tend to be a death sentence. These zombies don’t get bored and walk away from a feast; they batter defenses until they break through. These zombies do not limply slap at a piece of window glass, they smash through with full-throated fury, and they tend to be smart enough to work around obstacles in pursuit of their meal. Fireworks and thrown rocks don’t distract them; only another meal coming within earshot or a hiding place gives someone a hope of escape. If zombies or bullets take someone down, they don’t take their sweet time getting back up. A person goes from shot to zombie within their last heartbeat, so any gun battle or Mexican standoff has a tendency to get messy in a hurry.

No Plot Armor Necessary

The Walking Dead has given certain characters plot armor, ensuring they survive any number of difficult situations until the actor’s contract negotiations fall through or their arc is neatly resolved. Black Summer epitomizes drive-in movie critic/horror host Joe Bob Briggs’ main rule for a good drive-in movie: Anybody can die at any moment. 

Throughout Black Summer, characters are built up as being survivors that will stick around for the long term only for them to be killed off. Other characters who seem destined for the scrap heap inexplicably survive, popping back up later or in different episodes. That unpredictability means that there is no chance for the viewer to take a breath, even when it seems like the characters themselves are able to slow down. Reuniting with an old friend from the before times is less a fun walk down memory lane and more like a tense feeling out process. A hot shower is less a soothing experience for a battered body and more of a moment of achingly painful vulnerability. Even a good night’s sleep only serves to emphasize just how bone-weary and vulnerable characters are. 

The only character that’s safe, seemingly, is Rose (played by the brilliant Jaime King). With every close escape and betrayal she experiences, the character’s psyche only seems to grow more fragile. A respite from the outside world only heightens her paranoia and anxiety. Her safety isn’t due to plot armor, but due to her willingness to do anything necessary to survive, an attitude that only grows throughout Black Summer’s 16 episodes. She’s like a Terminator, with only one mission, and unlike Rick Grimes, all that high-minded stuff about building a new world never enters into her through process. Rose cares only about Anna (Zoe Marlett). Everything—and everyone—else does not matter. Friend or foe, Anna is Rose’s sole focus to the point of obsession.

The Directing of John Hyams

The material itself is nothing novel. It’s all stuff that’s been done before in various iterations; zombies are hard to have a fresh take on. However, where Black Summer excels is in the way it packages and presents these scenarios. It’s not your average zombie show shot with commercial breaks in mind. This is something designed from the ground up for streaming and binge watching, with a compulsive, theatrical energy that pulls the viewer into the story.

Most of the credit for that belongs to series co-creator John Hyams. Action fans will know that name from two of the best DTV action movies of the 2010s, Universal Soldier: Regeneration and Universal Soldier: Day of Reckoning. For those unfamiliar, the formalist Hyams style is instantly recognizable and sets a tone for the series from the opening moments of the first episode. Hyams deals in long single “oner” takes, with an active, participating camera that puts viewers in the middle of the action. The camera will track actors moving through a scene for minutes at a time, then have them stop to deliver dialogue or perform some specific actions, then go back to moving without any visible cuts. Expository scenes may feature one actor speaking to the camera, uninterrupted, for pages at a time, or multiple rack focus shifts between two characters in the midst of fraught conversation. 

The long takes feel deliberate and thoughtful, and when combined with heavy use of deep staging give scenes a woozy, dream-like state. Spoken lines are given time to breathe, to build, and the minimal score is just enough to tickle at the edges of perception and ramp up the inevitable tension that comes with someone not responding to a conversation cue. The violence, when it comes, tends to be sudden and shocking, shattering the ethereal tableau. 

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If a less nihilistic Michael Haneke did a zombie movie, it would feel a lot like Black Summer. It has enough action to satisfy die-hards, but it’s more than just titillation. The tension is aggressive, the fear real, the emotions bigger, and the characters more realistically broken than anyone from Robert Kirkman’s comic book adaptation. Even from the outside looking in, Black Summer gets under the skin in a way most other zombie media doesn’t. Survival is the goal, but the cost is higher than anyone could imagine in a world where death and life hinge on the pull of a trigger.

Black Summer seasons 1 and 2 are available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Why You Should Watch Black Summer on Netflix appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[simkjrs]

why does anyone think mukuro rokudo is anything remotely resembling cool

mukuro is a dumbass and the indisputable proof is right there in mukuro’s introduction arc

1. looks like a dumbass?

this is the very first picture of mukuro you get to see. some dumbass with badly parted hair and a fucking camo long-sleeve on under his fancy collared coat. how does  someone have a sense of fashion this bad and this tacky? it’s unbelievable. he’s only 15. he’s 15 and he’s dressing himself like this. someone help him 

you don’t find this out until later but he’s wearing a school uniform

he stole a school uniform, gyakuran and all, and put a non-school-compliant camo long-sleeve shirt on under it. for the aesthetic. for his really specifically ugly aesthetic. i physically can’t describe the visceral emotion this inspires in me. just look at him. would you be able to take him seriously if he tried to kill you? he could walk up to me and say “i’m going to take your life” and i’d just be like “haha yeah okay, is that what you were thinking when you were parting your hair this morning” and then i would laugh and he would skewer me in half with his pitchfork. 

2. an incredibly bad actor, unbelievably so

mukuro wants to possess tsuna or something and has the brilliant idea to waltz up to tsuna in the middle of a creepy forest by an abandoned amusement park, pretending he’s one of the poor innocent victims of that terrible criminal mukuro rokudo, while smiling and being friendly and not acting the least bit like a cowed or angry victim at all. he spends the entire time being creepy. he tells tsuna that he’s been taken advantage of by that horrible, awful mukuro, but his overwhelmingly creepy vibe completely negates any sympathy that story might have inspired in tsuna and instead prompts tsuna to think “this guy is really creepy!” and leave. 

like look at this screenshot from when mukuro is trying to “subtly” ask tsuna what he knows about mukuro:

important takeaways: 

mukuro can’t even keep up the charade for a full two minutes. he just doesn’t have the patience! he’s a terrible actor!!! 

mukuro is an impulsive, straightforwardly violent person who is only capable of posturing and rudimentary mind games as long as he doesn't get impatient with them

mukuro is a mist flame user whose ENTIRE GIG is being able to USE ILLUSIONS but he can’t even cover up his own weird eye. is it because it never occurred to him to do so? did he forget? did he know his eye would be noticeable, but he thought it would be cool so he elected to ignore common sense & subterfuge in favor of another brief intimidation tactic that doesn’t do anything to tsuna except make him think mukuro is weirder than ever?? DID HE JUST  THINK HE WOULD LOOK COOLER AS HE IS??? 

mukuro’s a DUMBASS and a DISASTER and he doesn’t know how to interact with anyone  else in any capacity at all, either as a spy, or as a friend / non-suspicious stranger, or as an enemy who could have USED THIS ENTIRE OPPORTUNITY TO TAKE TSUNA THE FUCK OUT 

mukuro: i’m going to possess the next heir to the vongola...  and destroy the mafia... NOTHING matters more to me than tearing down the ugly, sinful world in which we crawl...!!!! also mukuro: [corners heir to the vongola, alone in a forest where no one would notice them, and proceeds to do nothing except be exceedingly weird for absolutely no reason tsuna would notice or even care to comprehend] 

he’s so dumb it makes me cry 

3. important reminder

at this point in the story mukuro and his gang have been living in kokuyo park and eating garbage for like the past three weeks. he has NO right to be looking as good, self-assured, groomed, or confident as he does. AND YET HERE HE IS, shining in his full magnificent bastardly glory. something that would shame or embarrass anyone else rolls off mukuro like water rolls off of wax. he’s just absolutely immune to self-consciousness and i think that’s incredible. 

4. impractically dramatic

mukuro sets up his final confrontation with tsuna in a large, abandoned, empty room in one of the abandoned theme park buildings. that is, it’s empty except for the large, ornate throne that mukuro has set up and seated himself on so that he’s dramatically hidden in the shadows when tsuna enters the room. he had to set that all up himself. who puts that much time and effort into their presentation to their enemy, but not to actually defeating their enemy??? mukuro, that’s who.

5. laughably inept at his own professed expertise, manipulation and controlling others

tsuna enters the scene of the final confrontation, still thinking that mukuro is just that weird creepy kid he met in the woods and not... you  know.... mukuro himself.... and mukuro gives away the same in about ten seconds. he just couldn’t resist the impulse to crow about his masterful deception in tsuna’s face and revel in tsuna’s shock... at the fact... that he was mukuro all along!!

this has almost no impact on tsuna beyond “oh no, the guy is creepy AND also the guy i have to defeat.” if mukuro had put more work and buildup into the facade, but ohhh nooo, mukuro “i crave instant gratification and i want it NOW” rokudo has to have the payoff immediately. what did you even accomplish with this deception, you dumbass? you idiot. you fool 

6. the posturing

mukuro is an overeager fifteen year old who is murderous and violent but also wants to be incredibly cool. look at his face when someone asks him “what do you think people even are, you asshole?!” 

he looks so fucking pleased with himself for delivering this line, like it’s one of the slyest and cleverest things he’s ever said. he’s so proud of himself for flaunting how immoral, horrifying, and terrible he is in front of everyone’s faces. fear him... this is SO funny, especially in light of how horrible he is at manipulating others. mukuro you’re doing great

5. doesn’t fucking know what a flame is

mukuro: my incredible fighting prowess comes from this purple flame i can summon sometimes...!!! also mukuro: [has no fucking clue what the flame is, only that it makes him fight good and thats the important part, obviously]

he’s been through like, at least 2 entire mafia families, and has possibly killed more. the sheer power of mukuro’s ignorance to the existence of dying will flames is astoundingly powerful, and enough to knock out lesser men at close ranges

 6. can’t resist the impulse to give away all his cards so he can gloat over his enemies

you know the part where he pretends to shoot himself in the head but actually possesses one of tsuna’s friends? and then proceeds to give away his possession almost IMMEDIATELY by a) not changing his mannerisms in the slightest and behaving exactly like himself, b) attacking tsuna (and not even right! he misses! he was too impatient to actually wait for a good opportunity?????) c) just straight-up telling tsuna what he did

how does anyone take him seriously beyond the fact that he can fight good. he’s so dumb i cry every time i think about all the stupid shit he does. he’s a baby

7. this isn’t really evidence of mukuro being a dumbass, but i do want everyone to know, that mukuro’s persona is so aggravatingly conceited that he changed tsuna’s motivation from “i want to stop mukuro from hurting my friends” to “i  want to beat in mukuro’s entire face because he’s a fucking asshole” and i think that’s incredible

8. impractically dramatic

i already put this one down but it bears repeating because of the scene where mukuro is possessing ~6 bodies, and tsuna is knocked prone on the ground completely unmoving. tsuna has an ENTIRE conversation with reborn and mukuro doesn’t do anything except stand to the side with his 6 possessed super-fighter bodies and watch. what are you doing you fool

like i can't even comprehend what's going on in mukuro's head the only thing i can think is that he's impulsive and he LOVES entertainment so he can't help but do stupid shit like this as long as it's for the sake of more drama. if it adds drama he has to let it happen. 

this entire battle is just mukuro’s dramatics? he's spent so much time posturing and the only reason anyone is going to pay attention to the stupid shit he says is because occasionally he actually follows up on it and does terrible awful things. otherwise no one would care. mukuro needs actual friends and people who care about him, which he's going to make difficult because he physically can't stand not having control over someone else

categories of people, according to mukuro: 

enemies 

under his control

???

which means if you have a situation like this:

someone: i like you as a friend mukuro:  mukuro: mukuro: i have to possess them now

exhibit a: lancia. mukuro is so fucking bad at people it’s hilarious

9. has no sense of shame but an acute sense of embarrassment so he’ll do anything in pursuit of his goals but as soon as you remotely insinuate it doesn’t look cool he has to kill you

exhibit a: mukuro does this thing where he very dramatically stabs out his eye, and when removes his fingers somehow the eye is still there except it’s bleeding now and looks very cool. then he monologues to tsuna about his powerup for a while. tsuna... doesn’t give a single shit. the resulting dynamic looks a little bit like this:

mukuro: postures tsuna: you're a disappointment to me mukuro: mukuro, internally panicking:

mukuro is working very hard to look cool and intimidating right now! tsuna thinks he’s an idiot. out of all the things mukuro has to be stressed out about right now, i.e. being chased by deadly mafia enforcers, it really says something that it’s someone else thinking he looks stupid that makes him sweat. it’s hilarious is what it is. 

tsuna: [no longer affected by mukuro's bulshit] mukuro: s...shit... [continues to issue bullshit, except harder and more than before. also he's more stressed]

or as @micronecro so succinctly put it:

tsuna can perceive the extent of mukuro’s bullshit, which leads to some absolutely incredible moments, such as this:

mukuro: im going to kill you. im going to clown you tsuna: makes this face

i love that within 10 minutes of battle tsuna has divined mukuro’s exact nature and is no longer fazed by any of mukuro’s bullshit, and really can’t do anything except be completely fed up with it at this point. just go home mukuro. just stop while you’re still ahead. it’s okay. 

naturally it wouldn’t be mukuro if he didn’t follow his series of ill-advised decisions all the way to the very end, issuing bullshit the whole way. but  that’s  why we love him; for his endless potential and comedic entertainment

ANOTHER VERY GOOD MOMENT:

tsuna: [punches him once] mukuro:

mukuro: [feeling helpless, and thus resorting wholly to dramatics] kill me tsuna: [walking away] don't draw me into your bullshit, actually mukuro: [IMMEDIATELY SEIZES THE OPPORTUNITY TO ATTACK TSUNA] YOU FOOL, THIS WAS MY PLAN THE WHOLE TIME

mukuro is so shameless he’ll do literally anything to get the drop on his enemy but he can’t even do it well. he’s trying. he’s really bad at it. i don’t know why anyone would ever think  that mukuro is cool. 

in conclusion: i think mukuro possiby has no sense of shame, only embarrassment, so if someone pointed out the fact that this entire sequence of events is INCREDIBLY funny exclusively because of the ridiculousness of mukuro’s decisions it would go like this

tsuna: it was kind of embarrassing to witness actually mukuro: mukuro: mukuro: Die

tl;dr mukuro is a dumb baby who should not be allowed to live by himself. that concludes my ted talk. thanks for coming

[dustingrayves]

faire un petite fête

characters; elsword, raven, eve, elesis, add, lu, ciel rating; T wc; 2055 au; mafia cws; smoking + the usual mafia stuff, though this is very mild notes; hi! its finally time to post this!! this was written for the elsword halloween-mafia collab, you can check it out HERE and read other fics from there and see all the amazing art!! please check it out!!

“My eyes hurt, this is bullshit.”

There’s a heavy sigh coming from the other end of Seraph’s earpiece, followed by a deep inhale and a bubbling sound. She scoffs at her partner, even though he can’t see her. “Smoking again?”

A pause. “That has nothing to do with you, Seraph,” he mutters, “I just need something to keep me sane while looking at this stupid green shit. What do they even want us to do at this point, the security is down and the team is probably already on the way back.”

“You’re a hacker, and hackers get a black terminal with green words. Like all of us, now shut up,” she grumbles, and for a second, just a miniscule second, she thinks it worked, but then Esper’s deft fingers show off how fast they type and before she could even think about the goal of his work, her terminal blacks out. It comes back alive just as fast, but instead of the familiar and calming green illuminating her face, the words glare at her with that disgusting shade of purple she was forced to grow accustomed to.

“I prefer black and purple, thanks,” Esper says, going back to his pipe to let her undo the nonexistent damage.

Her lips form a tight line. “Of course you do.”

A knock comes from Esper’s side of the call and she can practically see him perk up, exhale the chocolate-tasting smoke and stand up to go open the penthouse door. She checks all her histories and makes sure to save today’s logs onto one of her disposable USBs before deleting it.

“Hey Seraph,” an energetic voice greets her when Esper returns, moving to save and delete his own logs. “Still don’t understand how you guys do this. Like, this is just a slew of numbers.”

A soft slap. “Let go of my keyboard, Infi!” Esper hisses, irritated, “All these numbers say ‘fuck off.’”

“The security also said ‘fuck off’, but you think that stopped me?”

“Who exactly do you think stopped the security in the first place, huh?”

“My irresistible charms, of course.”

“You don’t have a single redeeming quality about yourself, much less a charm, you dope.”

The boys continue chatting, throwing around meaningless insults, but Seraph decides she has had enough and disconnects from the secured line with only a ‘See ya.’ She misses both the answers as she puts her headphones down and stretches.

Working with that guy never ceases to get to her, no matter how much she insists she doesn’t care. He’s just so annoying… But the mafia pays well and he might help them track her if she ever decided to switch to someone else. He might be annoying as hell, but even she can’t write off his tracking skills.

It’s not like they’re friends, barely acquaintances, but it’d be best to stay on civil terms.

For now.

“So, why’d you crash here?” Esper asks, offering to pass the pipe. Infi takes it and takes a long drag, marveling at the surprisingly rich chocolate flavor the smoke carries.

“Well, to steal your tobacco, for one,” he says, taking another long drag. Esper snorts, fingers tapping on his (admittedly cool) light-up keyboard at the speed of… something. Definitely faster than Infi can.

“If I find even one package missing, I’m personally hiring a deep web hitman.”

“Aw,” Infi feigns sadness, but it’s quickly forgotten in lieu of another long drag, his lungs filling with the smoke and calming his nerves. Not that he’d consider himself a smoker, but passing up tobacco this good should be a crime. “Anyway, I’m here for a debrief, telling you you did a great job, yada yada. Seraph too, but she’s gone.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t much care for this stuff.”

“You don’t, either.”

“Eh,” Esper shrugs. He holds out his hand for the pipe and takes it from the redhead. “If I ever said I hate your mug, your sis would rip me a new one.”

“You don’t really hate my mug.”

“Nah, I’ve seen worse. Like your sis’.”

“I won’t tell her that, but only because we’re friends,” Infi laughs.

Esper’s tone carries a heavy tone of sarcasm as he says, “I appreciate it.”

“Anyway,” Infi mutters after a while, having made himself comfortable on Esper’s couch like every time, “Sis is meeting with the Crows on Saturday—”

“A weird day for a meeting.”

“—Yeah. But anyway, I want you to come with. La Diabla is coming too, along with her… boy toy? And I’d feel much better with someone who can rig up an explosive in case something goes south. Or un-rig it. Whichever.”

“Aw, and here I was, thinking you wanted me for my beauty, and you just want to exploit my collection of chemicals,” Esper snorts, but none of his words carry any heat. “I’ll go.”

“I think others would appreciate your ‘beauty’ more.”

“Fuck, dude, if anyone can appreciate my three day tank top and sweats, I’d be surprised.”

“Which reminds me, you will wear something appropriate, won’t you?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“If you come in a t-shirt and shorts I’ll let sis shoot you.”

“Her aim is shit.”

“Fair enough. Even my aim is better than hers.”

“You just don’t have enough concentration to stabilize it.”

“Well, mister smartypants, you don’t even have the upper arm strength to shoot one.”

“First of all, rude. Second of all, not true. And third of all, who needs a gun when you can have an explosion?”

“Sane people.”

“Aww. Nevermind then. Never qualified for one.”

“I can���t believe I’m doing this,” Esper mutters, glaring at his reflection in the passing window. “Last time I wore a suit was when I killed my father.”

“Good memories, huh?” Krim jabs, taking her attention off her call for but a second. She had been on call for over half an hour now (more than enough for Esper to set up his explosives around the only two exits of the warehouse), though mostly quiet and listening to whatever the other person has been babbling about. Esper doesn’t care.

“Actually, yeah.”

Krim’s expression darkens for a split second, looking at him with something unreadable. Not uncommon, when it comes to him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he bites, “Forget I said anything.”

The Commander is a fearsome man, with reputation preceding him by a mile or ten. Looking at him for the first time, aside from photos and low quality footage, Esper has to admit if it weren’t for years of expertise in the whole mafia/gang/whatever the hell they were, he still isn’t sure — sometimes the bosses act like goons, quarreling with the others, and sometimes they’re working like a switzerland watch — he would feel intimidated.

Instead, he just keeps to the shadows, fingering the fuse in his pocket, thumb running over the smooth surface of the buttons. It’s not that he would like to be stuck in a half-blown-to-high-heavens warehouse, but both Krim and Infi have been very adamant about the security measures.

They — he — end up being completely useless. The Commander drinks his polite glass of wine, brings out the cash Krim had demanded, and then turns his attention to La Diabla, looking the most out of place of them all, with her beautiful gown-like dress and hairdo fit for a runway.

Her… assistant… stands like a soldier a few feet over, the only one she had brought. That knowledge alone is more than enough to pique Esper’s curiosity, and he moves over to him, instantly grabbing his attention.

The man’s expression is unreadable, even moreso with the mask (which is, again, very unfit for a place like this, but for a completely different reason than La Diabla’s getup) obscuring half his face already. His eyes follow Esper’s every movement.

“Is she always like this?” Esper asks. The man cocks his head to the side as if in a question. Esper sighs. “This… pretty? Does she always go out of her way to look like she’s up for a modeling shoot in thirty minutes?”

This explanation seems to finally get through to the tall man. (Which, Esper begrudgingly seeths at. He’s already tall enough, no need to go the extra mile, right? Fuck you, taller people.) “That’s how she looks like,” is the simple answer.

“Uhhhh-huh…”

“Lu is beautiful.”

“And pays you a lot to say that too, huh. Wait, Lu?”

“Lu,” the other man repeats.

“Wait a sec right there— Is she…? No way, holy fuck. I knew she was familiar.” Fucking Luciela R. Sourcream, right here, under the fake name of La Diabla. Who would’ve fucking thought? Great, no wonder she only brought one man along.

Esper glances over at Infi, wondering if he knows. He’s got to, right? He does business with her.

Then again, she does look completely different right now that on any of the magazine covers that praise her almost-childlike appearance. Holy shit… This knowledge would sell for millions on the black market. Millions and… millions in bounty, too. Esper shudders inwardly at the thought of having to jump countries again to escape the persistence of mercs after a few easy millions.

“I’m Demonio.”

Esper is snapped out of his thoughts by the man’s voice. It still feels too gruff, like he’s unused to speaking much. Which he probably is, thinking about it. “Esper,” he replies.

Demonio gives him a nod and then goes back to looking presently dead inside. “I hate meetings like these.”

“Why’d you come, then?”

“Lu said, so I did.”

“Do you do everything she says?”

“Yes.”

“That’s kinda shitty,” Esper muses quietly. “But I hate these meetings too.”

“Why are you here, then?”

“Infi asked me to.”

“Do you do everything he asks?”

“No. But he’s a friend, y’know. We help each other out.”

Demonio makes a small humming noise in the back of his throat. “That’s nice.”

“Are you doing anything tonight?” Esper finds himself asking before he can even think about it. He wants to smack himself right after, but Demonio, despite what the name should suggest, seems like a nice guy who could use a little escape.

“Lu is shooting.”

“Uh—”

“Magazine.”

“Right…”

There’s silence, and Esper thinks that’s all there is to the conversation, but Demonio turns to him with a tilt of his head, as if he’d been waiting for Esper to elaborate on his question. “Why?”

“Well— There’s a good Chinese restaurant a few blocks from here, and they’re having an all-you-can-eat tonight. Me and Infi are going— And, frankly, you look like you should get something into your stomach.” Esper doesn’t really have the right to say something like that, but hey. Whatever.

Demonio looks down at him almost absently, leaning on his oversized sniper rifle — which Esper still doesn’t understand. They’re inside.

“That’s me extending the metaphorical olive branch. Y’know, friendship and all.”

“I’ll ask—”

“It’s alright,” come a lull of a voice, high pitched, silky and almost snake-like. Esper tenses up, eyes flitting to La Diabla. Shit. She must’ve heard. Demonio still looks as nonchalant and unbothered as ever, looking at her with confusion. “Go, dear, I can take care of myself one night.”

All the eyes inside are on them, now. The Commander’s, boring through and assessing; Krim’s, confused; Infi’s, mildly amused; and La Diabla’s, of course, seemingly even thankful as she looks at Esper.

He regrets agreeing with Infi to come. His fingers are still curled around the remote, itching to press a button and go hide somewhere during the explosions. He could’ve been at home, watching some stupid thing on Netflix and ignoring job offers instead of here, kindling friendship with the most well known assassin this side of the globe.

God, he really can’t wait to get home and get a cup of coffee. But then again, this is his life. And he hadn’t been shot or skewered on a blade yet. (Yet.) That’s a win in his books.

“Great. Anyone else who wants to tag along to the Chinese with us?” he asks, half rhetorically and full-on exasperated.

He doesn’t expect it in the slightest when the Commander grins and opens his mouth. “How good are their spring rolls?”

Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph. This is gonna be one hell of a dinner.

[lj-writes]

Finn handles a blaster like no one else

Do you want to talk about how badly The Force Awakens shortcharged Finn’s character? One thing that no one to my knowledge is talking about is his phenomenal skill with blasters. This is LucasFilm’s fault, not the audience’s, because it was shown right on the screen but never properly foregrounded.

I don’t mean the time he picked up starfighter gunning with a ten-second tutorial, then combined that with lightning-fast tactical judgment in a thirty-second firefight to get himself and Poe out alive while still minimizing Stormtrooper casualties. No, that was an amazing scene that blurred by too fast for almost any reasonable viewer to fully appreciate, but it wasn’t… what’s the word… unthinkable.

What’s unthinkable, and what passed right under the audience’s noses because LF filmed it but didn’t emphasize it, is what Finn does with a handheld blaster. As I will discuss, his style at least as shown in the battle at Takodana is very different from the way we’ve seen the heroes use blasters but also different from the way Stormtroopers use them, combining his training with his own astounding skills and strength.

I hesitate to even call this style “good,” because it could be very bad indeed for certain purposes, e.g. survival. It does, however, showcase his athleticism and sheer boldness in a breathtaking way.

This is hard to tell, though, on a casual viewing because it goes by so fast and is treated more as background action to Poe’s aerial acrobatics than a focus in itself. I didn’t realize just what was so special about this sequence until I did a deliberate comparison with how other characters and groups used different types of blasters in different situations. Let me explain below the fold just why Finn’s blaster style shown here is incredible and unique.

To start the comparison, let’s take a look at how some of our heroes use blasters in TFA. We have Poe Dameron using a high-powered blaster rifle at Tuanul Village on Jakku, picking off Stormtroopers from the outside.

Note what he’s doing here, taking cover, using both hands to aim and to steady the powerful rifle, bracing the stock against his shoulder to handle the recoil. He did break cover later on when Lor San Tekka was murdered, but that was in a moment of (completely understandable) emotion.

Then we have Han a.k.a. General Solo, veteran of the Rebellion and old-time smuggler, showcasing some blaster wizardry:

He stays low with little in the way of cover, and though it’s obvious he has devastatingly good aim and reflexes, he stays in place at least when he is aiming. His blaster pistol unlike Poe’s rifle can be handled and aimed with one hand, and is held out front for better reach and aim rather than hugged close to the body to absorb the greater recoil. Later on Han is also seen steadying the pistol with two hands from behind cover.

Exhibit C is Rey defending herself and BB-8 from Stormtroopers, using the pistol Han gave her.

Despite some false starts, she is obviously a talented beginner with good judgment. She fires from the cover of the woods, and runs deeper in to gain distance and cover when a trooper fires back. Since she is outnumbered, going into the woods also has the effect of breaking up pursuers who could overwhelm her in the open. She gives ground rather than running to meet the attackers because her goal is to get BB-8 away.

To recap, we can deduce some general “rules” from the way we’ve seen our heroes use blasters: Take cover whenever possible or stay low, fall back if it meets your tactical objective, stay in place when you aim. Rifles are handled with both hands and braced against the torso, pistols can be handled with one hand.

We see a somewhat different paradigm with the Stormtroopers, starting with the assault on Tuanul. They put offensive over taking cover to preserve themselves, since they have the body armor and their individual well-being is nowhere as important as being an unstoppable attacking force. The Rebels of Rogue One IIRC fight more like this in the battle at Scarif when they are taking ground offensive, though I don’t have specific footage on hand to confirm that.

So take a look at how Stormtroopers fight, marching forward at a steady synchronized trot, not bothering to stay low or find cover before shooting despite clearly being under fire from the defenders:

They often shoot while running toward their targets, as seen more clearly in this example:

Their standard-issue blaster, the F-11D, is nowhere as heavy and powerful as Poe’s or Chewie’s weapons, but they still aim and use it two-handed and close to the body. What their rifles lack in power they make up for in maneuverability and lightness, since this is an infrantry force that has to keep on the move and probably very few of them have the strength of a Wookie–or of Baze Malbus, for that matter.

It’s usually only when they need a free hand to manhandle some future war-crimes victim that they hold their blasters one-handed.

So, to recap, Stormtroopers as a primarily offensive force fight differently than the primarily defensive heroes in this movie, in that they keep on the move and don’t take cover as much. They use both hands when firing, and hug their weapons close.

Now let’s return to Finn. When he and the others are freed from the Stormtroopers he immediately searches for a weapon, and loots a Trooper’s body for what appears to be their standard issue rifle from its appearance.

From the comparison with the full-size image of an F-11D you can recognize the scope, the black-and-white coloring, the grip and foregrip from the weapon Finn has secured for himself. This weapon would have been both readily available and familiar to him.

Now take a look at how he uses that thing:

See how he uses the exact same blaster rifle, the weapon we’ve seen Stormtroopers shoot two-handed and close to the body, but he uses it like we’ve seen Han and Rey use their pistols–in one hand with the arm stretched forward. Despite not steadying the longer bore of the rifle, however, his aim is rock-solid and he never misses.

So he aims with one hand, aims, and hits while his enemy is taking aim at him. In fact he does it twice in a row, absorbing the recoil like it’s nothing, not against his torso like any normal person but with his wrist and arm. He does this so quickly that he can line up his next shot perfectly in the space of turning toward an enemy. And he does it so fast he’s quicker and more accurate aiming a blaster rifle with one hand than an enemy who was already aiming at him two-handed.

And then, a little later:

You can see him use his Stormtrooper training, which is only natural. He acts like he’s still in full-body armor, not bothering to take cover, moving to meet his enemies. Someone needs to remind him he left that armor behind in the junkyard Jakku, and one (un)lucky shot is all it would take to bring him down if he keeps doing that.

On the other hand, Finn also fights like no other Stormtrooper we’ve seen. There’s the one-handed aim, again, but he’s no longer trotting at a measured pace but sprinting. Toward an enemy who not only has his weapon trained at him but has already gotten off a few shots. He’s being shot at and he’s not diving for cover, he runs toward his shooter, so cool and steady he gets the guy in one shot mid-run.

This is not rational behavior if you want to survive a battle, though if you’re good enough you might be able to unnerve your enemy and disrupt their aim by your unexpected reaction. Finn is clearly that good.

These two short bursts of action speak to levels of training, reflex and athleticism I can’t easily fathom. It means Finn is strong enough and coordinated enough to handle and aim a blaster rifle one-handedly, his reflexes are so good he absorbs the recoil without bracing the gun against his body, he’s so bold he actually runs to an enemy to surprise him, and he’s so cool and calculated he makes surgically precise shots while being shot at. This last is also a trait we saw in the hangar escape scene, though at that time with a weapon Finn was untrained in.

There is nothing in the TFA script to indicate that Finn was going to do anything unusual in this battle. The script at this point has Finn crow about Poe’s skll and doesn’t call for him to shoot anyone at all at this point. I will have more to say later on about how Finn is shortcharged compared to the directions in the script, to say nothing of the editing and focus of the scenes he’s in, but in this one case he actually overperforms the script.

I’m not even entirely sure Finn was intended to be this incredibly overpowered shooter who breaks all the rules the movie set up for firefghts. Maybe this was an improvisation on John’s part that went uncorrected. Given the layers of direction, retakes, and editing the production would have gone through, however, and the fact that what’s on the screen is on the screen no matter how it got there, I’m inclined to think this footage says what it seems to say: That Finn is scary good with a blaster.

This is fully consistent with the background information about Finn from Before the Awakening that he was the best of the best, the top 1% of every evaluation, the shining example of what the program could be. It’s information that the film failed to include, but explains so much about his abilities and the First Order top brass’s reaction to his defection, as @the-bi-writer and others have pointed out.

Finn doesn’t display this kind of rash, unconventional use of the blaster before or after this scene. He fought like a conventional Stormtrooper at Tuanul and later, at Starkiller Base, uses a higher-powered blaster rifle with both hands. He had to conform to First Order military doctrine while he was stil a Stormtrooper, obviously, and may have realized that he couldn’t keep doing this gun-fu stuff if he wanted to live long. Still, in that in-between space between his Stormtrooper days and the start of his Resistance career, the Takodana battle still showcased his outstanding talent and skill with a blaster and I hope to see more of Finn with the weapon.

While Finn is often depicted as an unthreatening everyman character, it’s clear from scenes like these that he is far from ordinary. He is a highly-trained military badass of the highest order, and I can’t wait to see more of this aspect of him.

[tharacecard]

Trayvon

This is a speech I’m giving for Hoodies Up Day 2017 at Portland’s Roosevelt High School and also a super personal account of what brought me into Black Lives Matter and how I began to organize. 

Trayvon Martin woke me up.

I learned the same story about African history in the United States that every public school kid does: slavery, Abraham Lincoln, the Civil War,  no more slavery but then oh no, up came old Jim Crow to keep Africans separate and unequal again. A few decades of that and Africans rose up in what we now call the Civil Rights movement. To win our freedom we took decades of beatings that would be memorialized in history books our children would read for generations.

Somewhere in all that marching and suffering, Martin Luther King JR. showed up, gave some speeches, led some marches, talked about little African and white kids holding hands, and then was killed in Little Rock, Arkansas. It’s very sad. But then! Somehow, suddenly, everything was fine. He had saved us. Lawsuits were won, laws were passed, schools were desegregated, a few rights every human being should be granted at birth were finally recognized, MLK was put on a stamp, and then little African and white kids were playing and holding hands. The dream was realized. Justice was won. That’s the story.

Yes, there were some old racists here and there. Yes, some of those old racists were cops, judges, prison guards, CEOs, senators, teachers, and presidents. Yes, we were still being killed for no reason but that was only happening to the bad Africans that deserved it - the ones that wouldn’t obey. The dangerous ones that wore hoodies. The gangsters. The good Africans stayed in line, smiled politely, kept their heads down and their voices low. The good Africans realized that the world really is free and just, racism really is over, and everything that was owed to us has been received. A dream had been realized. We had a Black president. That’s the story.  

I believed the story for the most part growing up, even through the dark spots, the things that didn’t quite fit: the time a kid called me Blackie in the lunch line, the way my mother and my sister and I would get followed around supermarkets and K-Marts, the way our next-door neighbors called the cops on my sister and I when we were kids. Not just once. A good half dozen times: for things like playing too loud, being too close to their car, being outside too long after the sun went down. They never tried calling our mom, just the police.

I saw and lived these things, I took them in and understood them to be wrong, to be unjust -  but I still believed the story. That I Have A Dream Story - little African and white kids holding hands. Yes there were still racists, I thought, but they were old and just in the South really, and they’d die eventually, and everyone would be free, and the world was still basically just. I lived believing this for much of my youth and became an adult believing it. The first year I was able to vote for president, I voted for Barack Obama and it felt like another dream fulfilled. My boyfriend and I sat on my bed and cried when he won. A president for US.  

And then Trayvon.

The thing that hurts the most to think about is how young he was. How young he *looked*. I saw a picture of his body on the news - because the news trots out footage and pictures of African death with instant replay like it’s nothing, like we feel nothing - and it took my breath away. It made my heart stop and my stomach hurt. He was just a boy - wearing skinny jeans and a hoodie, looking up into the sky with eyes that would never see again. Just a boy who wanted to be an astronaut. A boy who was walking home in his own neighborhood, carrying ice tea, skittles, a cell phone, and nothing else, just minding his own business before he was shot dead by an unrepentant racist who knew the moment the cops let him go home that same night that he would get away with it. We all watched him get away with it.

Trayvon was my cousins. Trayvon was my uncles. Trayvon was the father I never knew as a carefree African boy. Trayvon had dreams. Trayvon had people who loved him. Trayvon was a whole person. In the moment of his death and in the days, and months, and years that followed he became first a monster in the eyes of a system and an entire nation that had to make him one to explain itself, and then later a symbol of pain, anger, and resistance for an entire movement.

There would be no Black Lives Matter without Trayvon. There would be no me as an organizer without Trayvon. Trayvon woke me up. Trayvon woke a lot of us up.

I think for a lot of organizers in Black Lives Matter, the story of how we began our work in this movement is the same: we took to the streets. We shut it down. Ferguson showed us how. When Mike Brown was shot with his hands up, we poured into the street by the hundreds of thousands: all kinds of people from all over the country, united in resistance. That first fall it seemed like there was a protest or a march every day: stopping traffic, shutting down highways, blocking bridges, and blockading airports.

With each new action, we became cleverer, quicker, and more creative. Where first we were just throwing our bodies into the streets, stopping cars by just standing in front of them, later we began to identify choke points and ways to hold our positions for longer. We built complex lock boxes and barricades. We started to talk about locations and targets that would be more strategic, more visible, and make more of an impact. We started organizing ways to take care of each other, to bail out folks who were arrested, to make sure folks were fed and hydrated and checked up on during and after direct actions. We started building networks of trust, safety, and solidarity. We started building organizations. We started making demands.

From that first mass of action in the streets, came an entire universe of organizations: Black Youth Project, the Black Lives Matter Network, YGB, We are the Ones, Million Hoodies, the Dream Defenders. Dozens of organizations, all over the country, overwhelmingly led by African women, queer and non-binary folks, and youth. Many of us were completely new to the movement and to organizing in general. We were making things up as we went. We didn’t know what we were doing but we knew we had to do something. We knew that we couldn’t stand how things were anymore. We felt somehow instinctually that we had the power to stop it together, that we just had to find our way to that power. We began to organize and we learned as we grew.

I had never organized a day in my life before Black Lives Matter. The extent of my activism was going to Occupy for a few hours like one time. I had no idea what I was doing. I realized quickly that organizing - mass-based revolutionary organizing - doesn’t require a special skill set. It doesn’t require grants or funding. It doesn’t require a college degree or thousands of dollars in special training and business cards and badges. It requires people who are willing to contribute in any way they can to the overall goal of working together to liberate their people. If you want African people to be free and you are motivated to give your labor, knowledge, and time to a collective working to see that happen, you can organize. Anyone can be an organizer.

We’re not really taught to understand our own power and capacity to contribute to a movement and to an organization working for liberation. We’re taught the value of individualism and standing alone, valuing ourselves above all else. In many ways learning to organize is a process of unlearning individualism and learning the value of collective struggle. Revolutionary organizing helps you understand that isn’t individual people who are the heroes in history, it’s the masses of people, conscious and awake, organized and working together, who are the real heroes. It’s the masses of people who have the power. It’s the masses of people who create change. The masses of people united and focused on a goal can achieve anything. The masses of people once conscious and set on a course to change their circumstances will change those circumstances. The entire history of African people shows this. The entire history of humanity shows this. And Black Lives Matter in this moment shows this. Once enough people wake up, there’s no way to put them back to sleep. Trayvon Martin set us on a course to change the future for African people in this country. And we will.

Trayvon, more than anything, has become a symbol for the overwhelming injustice that defines the African experience in the United States today. We, as a people, are expected to accept a reality where at any moment we may be struck down and killed for any reason and in death the people who killed us will say we deserved it and the nation where we live will stand by them. We live in a country where cops can pull up on a 12-year-old boy playing with a toy gun, shoot him down within 30 seconds, and people will passionately explain why it was his fault. We live in a country where a little girl can get blown up in her sleep by a flash grenade, and the person who threw it will never face charges. We live in a country where an African woman arrested for a traffic violation can die overnight in a prison cell without outrage or even investigation. We live in a country where we are forced to bleed to show our pain and to explain why we deserve to live again and again and again.

African existence is pain and rage. African existence is resistance, resilience, creativity, brilliance, and magic.

Every single African person still living today, still surviving this, still fighting this is a testament to the strength and humanity of our people and of our ancestors. Everything we are today and everything we will be tomorrow is made possible by the people who bled, and fought, and struggled, and won so we could be here. There’s a saying that goes, “the life you live today does not belong to you, it belongs to the people who will come after you.”  This is true. For us and for everyone: this is true.