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p---ink · 4 years ago

Text

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though.

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems.

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self)

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it.

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.”

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.”

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch.

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared.

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.”

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker, after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath.

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her.

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present.

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered.

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been.

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words.

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep.

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat.

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him.

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case.

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her. “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels, and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious.

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain.

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car.

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat.

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable.

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way.

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification.

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl.

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question.

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted.

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long.

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt.

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained.

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips.

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing.

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all.

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield.

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her.

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?”

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him.

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one.

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous.

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked.

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment.

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.”

“Say please.” He teased.

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied.

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him.

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin.

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans.

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties.

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat.

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member.

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down.

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her.

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue.

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there.

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin.

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him. She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips.

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her.

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky.

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her.

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core.

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried.

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest, becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better.

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm.

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her.

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her.

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny.

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence.

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue.

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined.

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window.

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure.

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning.

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried.

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button.

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers.

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say.

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone.

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip.

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life.

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair.

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed.

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake.

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came.

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted.

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat.

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high.

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly. “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.”

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them.

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin.

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare.

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her.

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?” She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop.

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.”

A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error.

#peter parker x reader #Peter Parker smut #Peter Parker x black!reader #black!reader #Peter Parker fluff #spiderman x reader #marvel smut #marvel imagines #spiderman #Peter parker #black reader #smut #dark!peter x reader

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metvmorqhoses · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! I just found your blog and I love your take on shadow & bone! How do you feel about soc being incorporated into the s&b netflix show? I have mixed feelings since their presence felt contradictory. For example, Alina's story is black and white while the crows' story is gray. They literally break into the Little Palace to kidnap Alina and this is never seen as a bad thing, yet the Darkling is accused of trying to make Alina a prisoner because of what Baghra said even though there's no real proof. What are your thoughts?

I completely get where you are coming from anon, yet the problem you are presenting here immediately felt to me much less of an artistic choice than a rather... imperative one?

I'll explain.

Even without having ever read Six of Crows and therefore having only the show and some random facts about the books as a parameter, I could absolutely tell we were talking about a series that stood on a completely different skill level compared to The Grisha Trilogy.

Shadow and Bone in particular is the less novel... well, novel, that I have probably ever read. It feels much more like a story study than an actual finished product, a plot summary with some punchline thrown here and there at best. Even if the general idea had indeed potential (let’s pretend to believe in its originality - it is a very blatant bastardization of Deathless), even if the protagonists were drawn from ancient and deeply interesting archetypes, the whole thing wasn’t really thought-through nor harmonic within itself to be considered a compelling enough story worthy of its own premises.

Let’s be honest, the content of Shadow and Bone wasn't enough to even carry the weight of the brief YA novel it was conceived as, let alone a Netflix show. If the writers had decided to faithfully adapt those books on screen the way they were written, the whole thing would have collapsed into nothingness at episode one.

As far as I am concerned they had two possible choices - either following the plot of the novel in its main pivotal points yet inventing from scratch the entire characterization and the detailed twists and turns of the story (thing that I personally would have preferred and loved if done with intelligence), or using some other already available source material to fill the many gaps. And that’s why I ultimately think Six of Crows was brought into the equation: it gave the show dimension and dynamism.

I completely agree that the sentiment and depth levels of the two series don’t seem quite to match: the crows are all more or less complicated and very nuanced antiheroes, while as you correctly pointed out Alina’s story seems to be based upon a pretty blind tyrannical series of absolutes. Yet, this said, what I actually believe is that Shadow and Bone wasn’t so much intended as a high tale of moral dichotomy as much as it merely... failed to delve even a little deeper into itself while it really should have.

The plot of The Grisha Trilogy, its characters and symbols, actually call and demand for complexity and greyness. Everything about it is portrayed as very complicated and dubious from the very first word.

There is racism, there is war. Every party seem to have valid points and yet no one really has. The heroine is supposed to be an ordinary girl and a saint at the same time. The heroine and the villain have matching powers and a special connection. The villain actually thinks himself the hero of the twisted story and has spent lifetimes to try and protect a persecuted minority. The heroine fears her power would corrupt her and yet is constantly craving more. I mean, what better premises for moral dubiousness, for deep meaning?

Instead, we are presented with a pretty shallow narrative that repeats itself endlessly, meaninglessly and implausibly in utter black and whiteness, without ever making much sense nor matching its own very themes.

I absolutely think that the lack of depth and nuance, fundamental things that the plot actually seems to set from moment one, is ultimately the reason of failure of the entire series. Those books possess a shallowness that is truly appalling.

Also, if you ask me, the author constantly seems to have double standards regarding her own characters. She holds the ultimate saying in how the readers are supposed to interpret her story and gets mad when they don’t follow her bizarre views. Characters are not judged nor held by their actions, but by how much she merely... likes them.

As you correctly pointed out, the crows can go around kidnapping people, cheating and thieving and lying (killing even), but they are funny and quite adorable and intended as heroes and have tragic backstories, so it’s totally fine.

Baghra literally abused and dehumanized her own son for literal ages, to the point the man doesn’t even remember who he is or his own name, purposely robbing him even of his one slim chance of happiness (people, if you think she “warned” Alina because she gave a damn about her or what “terrible things” Aleksander would do with her power, think again), and yet she’s a saviour and a victim and so brave and helping because the author decided she was correctly thwarting the villain she arbitrarily appointed.

The Darkling literally gave Alina a home, protection, a purpose, tried to save her from an eternity of loneliness, had spent literal lifetimes protecting a dehumanized and persecuted minority while being dehumanized and persecuted (and abused by his own mother) himself, but the author decided his tragic back story doesn’t count, that he’s in fact just evil and beyond salvation, mainly because he didn’t confess his darkest secrets to an angsty teenager right the moment he met her and wanted to make decisions for her she wasn’t mature enough to make on her own and for the literal sake of humanity.

Okay, I guess.

Indeed double standards are absolutely at work in those series. I’m afraid the author doesn’t seem to understand what storytelling is actually about. In my opinion the show-runners actually did a very good job with the absolute mess they were presented with and the funny ideas I’m sure LB kept throwing at them in her involvement.

#i'm so glad you enjoy my little musings anon #the darkling #darklina #asks/replies #shadow and bone #the grisha trilogy #six of crows #anon #one and one thousand stories lis told

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atangledfate · 3 months ago

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Wave couldn't help but let a little laugh out at Surge as she took claim to the damage of her gear. She plopped herself down cross legged next to Surge, sighing softly but still bemused by the other's claim. If only that were true she'd get yelled at less later but she still found it pretty funny! She was something else, this electric girl--- and pretty to but her interests were certainly more in who she was and where she came from. She had asked tails but he refused to give an answer. Not surprising he still hated her for all the trash talk she did way back when.

" Hah, if only... i told you we babylons don't like to lose... so i removed the limiter on the engine. Basically fried it, in knew it probably would...but experimental engines are prone to that...but you know? i'll let you have it... just this once "

Though learning that Surge was basically tapped out made her feel better about her loss. But on the same hand she didn't wanna see Surge keel over either. More do to her curiosity then concern for another life. Her moral scope was pretty skewed compared to jet or storm.

" So you pushed yourself to far huh? You better be more careful next time--- if i win because you short out i'd be really pissed about that... so take better care of yourself ok? "

She dropped thet lecture she wasn't jet and she wasn't gonna give another take care of yourself speech. She crossed her arms though and glanced to one side. The question Surge asked seemed simple but it was a loaded answer. They were alot of things but how much should she even say? definatly couldn't mention Babel, or the organization that was for sure. She liked breathing after all, and while jet woldnt give a shit---his father sure would.

" We are Babylons... some of the last of our kind. So yes we are a team, but racing is just part of our culture. Babylons solve all kinds of disputes with races, because there are to few of us left to risk killing one another. So we race... the entire Extreme Gear Grand Prix --- That was all based on an ancient Babylonian celebration... "

She explained without going into to much detail, the did have some time to kill while waiting for storm

" As for being thieves... Jet's Family are all notorious thieves... So it was only natural for him to take up the mantle to. Storm is Jet's childhood friend... and i was a genius gear designed... it was a team made hell! "

" As for treasure hunting, we just specialize in snatching ancient artifacts. People hire us to find and grab certain ancient relics, and we just got good at it...plus jet's a bit of a collector himself. I suppose that plays a large part ... personally i'm just in it for the rings! "

She smirked as she was quite wealthy in truth

" But i trust those two idiots... having someone who you know will always have your back is a comfort... no matter how bad things get. I know Jet will always be there to bail me out. And i in turn keep him from killing himself... that a suitable answer? "

" What about you? I've heard all kinds of wild stories. Based on the kids statement i am guessing your both enhanced? if its to personal no worries... i ain't gonna pry more then your willing to talk about. "

If she wanted to know she could find out, the fact she didn't showed she had some level of respect for privacy.

" Just color me curious... not every day i meet a good looking chica who can trash me in a race..."

"Eh, I can even break things without having to actually do anything." Surge seemed awfully smug that Wave trashed her new board just to keep up with her top speed. Well, pervious top speed as that new mode certainly changed that. The tenrec kinda hate's the color as it reminds her too much of Sonic, though a power as a power. Helps she was getting over the voice screaming at her to kill Sonic.

"I would, though I'm sure Drippy would tell me to not run for a hour or two while my body recovers from tapping into a new ability. I don't know, I think he's tripping, though I don't wanna worry him and slip back into bad habits." Surge was honestly glad he was freaking out when she nearly passed out and didn't call her ma'am either. Drippy was making some real progress.

Surge would then lay on the ground. "Guess you'll have to give me a ride then." The tenrec may feel fine, though could still sense that her body was still trying to recover from what she did. The speedster guessed she'd be meeting another one of the Babylon Rogues. Storm? That's the big guy if she recalled correctly.

"So, what's the deal with your team? Are you thieves, racers, some sort of treasure hunters, or what?" Surge knew a bit from the data Starline had, though it just who they were and that was about it. Guess he didn't see them as much of a threat at the end of the day. The tenrec could agree as they didn't really take sides or anything.

#Babylon's Genius Mechanic #Wave #Thundercracker #Surge

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wordsmithic · 2 years ago

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That book sounds interesting!! Thank you for showing me! The blurb had me at "sunken city", haha; love that kind of setting.

As for your question, I should start by saying I'm Indian so I don't generalise! And if we're talking about books written by Indians (as in, not an English language book that is on the NYT best seller list and so people here are reading it too), then retellings of the Mahabharata in particular are very "in" for the last few years. Like most things they range from absolute waste of paper to genuinely good work.

(There's a YA/Marvel-esque original movie coming out soon too based on Hindu mythology, though that's an original script.)

Obviously while it's an understatement to say that Hindu mythology is very... alive (is that the right word?) here, there's also this sort of implicit understanding of 'original' and 'modern derivative', I think? So there's plenty of derivative work while the traditional stories are more "authoritative", if you'll excuse me using that word for mythology, haha. (And of course people will have problems if they don't feel the author has been respectful)

Hopefully, it turns out to be great! I really liked the idea of the sunken city!

I suspected you might be Indian because on Tumblr I've seen posts from Indian bloggers that alluded to retellings of the Hindu gods. I've seen there are recent Indian adaptations of the Mahabharata (and I would totally watch the Marvel-esque original movie you mention 😂). But I imagine you are, right now, talking about Indian retellings in the style of Madeline Miller's Song of Achilles but for Hindu gods and heroes? If yes, I had no idea such books were so popular in India! And to do it with gods that your nation still worships is such a foreign idea to me, really!!! My mind goes "how don't they find it offensive???" 😂 And when I saw the posts I was thinking "they have no problem with that?? how?? but they still worship these gods!! hoooow??"

My thoughts are such because in Greece the idea of retellings can feel a bit… sacrilegious, even if the book is somewhat decent. We also recognize the difference between the ancient and the modern when it comes to some adaptations but our ancient is kind of... left alone for so long, and we have devoted millennia to transferring it intact to the next generations. So our way is to just safekeep it and pass it on. Altering an ancient story for a modern audience feels like "smearing" the original. It's like trying to attach a Honda to a 2.000-year-old golden carriage. It spoils the beauty, purpose, and grandiosity of the carriage. So, when we are exposed to how other people write in a modern way about their old texts and gods, we project our own values there.

But, since the approach totally depends on the culture and how its people feel about the matter, I am obviously not the one to tell Indians how to feel! And I am fascinated by how Hinduism is incorporated differently into the daily lives of the worshipers, compared to the way Orthodoxy does it for Greeks as our ethnoreligion. (My mind is still blown from the cultural shock, though, give me some time 😵😂) The possibility of another bad Greek myth retelling makes my skin crawl but you probably have hundreds, if not thousands, in your own country! Wow... h-how do you deal with it without 50 psychotherapy sessioooons?? You are so brave??? (I am fine, I am fine 😂)

By all means, feel free to get in my DMs with some good retelling recommendations of ancient Hindu stories (trans. into English if possible because I don't know any Indian language(s) 😔) But if the good ones are not translated into English you can also tell me about them and why you like them! I am so CURIOUS!

#answered #retellings

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kofubisha · 3 years ago

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the offer

a stormy evening. an uninvited guest.

[this fic was written for @millenniumzine: a charity zine celebrating the tenth anniversary of noragami's serialization. there are just a few copies left!!!]

When Hiyori walked into the kitchen, she did not expect to find Yato there.

She certainly did not expect to find him making himself comfortable at the table, propping his feet up on its pristine surface and tipping back what looked suspiciously like a can of her father’s preferred after-work beer. She scowled in his direction until he reluctantly removed his feet from the table.

“Daikoku kicked me out,” Yato said, before she could ask.

“He probably had a good reason.”

Hiyori strode across the kitchen, plucked the can out of his grip, and emptied it straight into the sink. “You have a problem.”

Yato smacked his lips unrepentantly. “It’s not my fault your dad has fantastic taste in booze.”

Hiyori cast him a withering look as she sat down. “How many bottles of coins do you think it would take to cover all the alcohol you’ve ‘borrowed’ off various members of my family?”

Yato winced at the prospect. Hiyori, however, had at last noticed what was missing from the room.

“Where’s Yukine?” she asked.

“Daikoku didn’t kick him out.”

Despite his dejected tone, Yato didn’t look particularly sad. He cast his eyes sideways out the window, where the sky was the color of an old bruise.

As if on cue, a single raindrop struck the window. Several more followed, plinking harmlessly against the glass. Seconds later, the sky seemed to swing open, unleashing a cascade of water that hammered the roof like ammunition. Hiyori shuddered at the thought of venturing outside.

Yato seemed to have the same idea, because when he looked back at her his eyes were as full of innocence as a sacrificial lamb’s.

“You wouldn’t make me walk home in this, would you, Hiyori?” he pleaded.

Hiyori just shivered and scrubbed her shoulders. The temperature in the kitchen had already dropped by several degrees. A warm drink would soon fix that. She rose from the table and went to the cupboards, rummaging for a cup.

“Hiyoriiii…” Yato whined.

Hiyori sighed and brought out a second mug. After all, her mother had raised her to be courteous.

As she moved around the kitchen pouring water and lighting the stove under the kettle, the ferocity of the rain outside seemed to fade, if only in her own ears. She could feel Yato watching her. His attention, though obvious, wasn’t unpleasant. At times, Hiyori got the sense that he was a little fascinated by this sort of domestic ritual. She wondered how many others had ever offered him such simple favors.

From the corner of her eye, Hiyori saw the whipping branches of trees outside the window. The wind had risen to a boisterous gale, battering the windows with sheets of water.

“I hope everyone is safe inside,” she murmured, with a thought for her traveling parents and for Masaomi, who was probably holed up in one of his friend’s leaky apartments. Carrying the two mugs over to the table, she again sat down across from Yato.

“Can you believe this, Hiyori?” he held his phone up at her, the screen bright in her face. She blinked.

“…What?”

“No texts! Not even one angry voicemail! Does he care if I get struck by freak lightning and die?!”

Hiyori’s brain slowly caught up with Yato’s chaotic train of thought.

“I’m sure Yukine knows you’re here,” she said comfortingly, unable to suppress a smile at his indignation.

The volume of the wind outside rose sharply. It howled around the eaves of the house like a starving animal. The mournful noise shuddered down Hiyori’s spine, and she curled her shoulders inward around her cup.

“It sounds horrible out there,” she murmured.

At the very moment Yato opened his mouth to respond, the kitchen plunged into darkness.

Before Hiyori could do more than gasp, there was the soft click of a cigarette lighter. Yato’s face appeared, bathed in flickering yellow.

“Well, isn’t this creepy?” he asked. His voice was full of barely repressed mischief. “It’s okay Hiyori, you can cling to me if you’re scared.”

Hiyori’s cheeks grew warm. She pushed herself out of the chair with a clatter and marched across the kitchen.

“This happens all the time,” she shot back at him. “The house is old. We have candles in every room.”

“Then what’s taking you so long?” Yato asked. She could hear the smirk in his voice and Hiyori grit her teeth, fumbling in the kitchen drawers for the expected candles.

When she returned, pointedly not making eye contact with Yato, she set her findings on the table: a single, well-used tea light that, based on the remaining wax, promised fifteen minutes of illumination at most.

“Not very disaster-prepared, are you?” Yato asked. A question Hiyori did not dignify with a response.

Yato lit the candle, then snuffed the cigarette lighter and replaced it in his pocket. The anemic glow did very little to dispel the shadows in the room, but it was a more steady source than the lighter’s open flame.

“This is almost as bad as one of Kofuku’s,” Hiyori observed, staring out the window into the roaring storm. The old house was sturdy enough, but that didn’t stop its ancient bones from shivering and groaning with each savage gust.

Yato eyed Hiyori’s white-knuckled grip on the mug. He leaned over the table toward her, and she felt her cheeks heating up again under the keenness of his gaze.

“My offer still stands, you know,” he said. Hiyori blinked.

“Your offer?”

An odd expression flashed across Yato’s face. It was almost sheepish, but gone before Hiyori could make anything more of it.

“The offer for you to cling to m—”

“Oh, that one,” she said. “No thanks.”

Yato clapped a hand to his chest in exaggerated fashion, collapsing back into the chair with a defeated exhale. Hiyori hoped the darkness of the room concealed her raging blush.

“One day, Hiyori,” he said, stirring his tea. “You’re going to beg for my godly favor, and I won’t be there to help you.”

She almost laughed in his face.

“Yato. I have.”

The corner of his mouth tugged downward.

“I would definitely remember that,” he said, and Hiyori narrowed her eyes.

“You don’t remember when you took my money, evaded my calls, and used my vulnerabilities to your own advantage?”

Yato winced. “‘Used’ is a harsh word.”

“Would ‘exploited’ be more accurate?”

He fell silent at that, which bothered her. Hiyori wasn’t used to getting the last word.

“I guess it would,” he said. His voice was light, and if Hiyori could have seen his expression she might have believed it a joke. But his eyes were in shadow, and the shape of his mouth was flat and humorless.

“What I meant…”

Her words trailed off. Hiyori desperately wished for Yukine to be there. She didn’t know why the mood had altered, nor why the air seemed to thicken in her mouth when she tried to speak.

“I just meant that…you’ve already helped me.”

Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper at the end, and her scalp tingled with shame. Why was this such an awkward admission? She’d told him as much before. Hiyori’s ears grew impossibly hotter as she remembered how effortlessly—how proudly she’d claimed him as her god of fortune.

This was different.

The struggling flame from the tea light had been barely enough to illuminate their faces, and as the seconds ticked by, its glow was weakening.

She dared to hope Yato hadn’t heard her.

“Hiyori.”

Her head snapped up. Yato’s voice was startlingly close. He leaned toward her again, both elbows resting on the table. Hiyori made the mistake of meeting his eyes. She wondered, sometimes, how anyone could think blue eyes cold.

“You’re kind,” he said, simply.

Hiyori made an embarrassing sound in the back of her throat. To escape Yato’s eyes, she hid her steaming face in her mug and took an ambitious gulp of what turned out to be very cold, bitter tea.

Spluttering, she set her cup back on the table and reached for Yato’s, horrified when she saw he had already consumed its entire contents.

“Why did you drink the whole thing?!” she wailed, brandishing the empty cup in Yato’s face.

“I thought it was fine,” he said.

Hiyori glared at him, inexplicably furious. She wasn’t sure toward whom that anger was directed, but it felt more substantial than a dispute over cold tea.

At that moment, the candle went out.

Yato cursed—colorfully but quietly—and she heard the lighter flick again. The candle flared once, then went out.

Hiyori blinked rapidly, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the absolute darkness. Outside, the tempest was amassing its forces. There was no lightning in this storm: only rain, wind, and utter dark.

It was the kind of storm that spawned monsters, and Hiyori, despite herself, was afraid of it.

“I’m sure we have a flashlight,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Before Hiyori could even lurch out of her chair, a set of fingers closed around her wrist. She froze. Surely, surely, Yato could feel the wild hammering of her blood beneath his thumb.

“Is this all right?” he asked.

Hiyori didn’t immediately respond. She was stunned at how unexpectedly warm his hand felt against hers. Interpreting her silence as a denial, Yato immediately withdrew, and Hiyori’s stomach plunged horribly at the loss of contact.

“No, w—”

She barely had to speak before his hand returned, closing gently around her wrist. She allowed him to move her fingers so that they interlocked with his. The tension began to drain out of her body, and Hiyori dared not question why.

“This doesn’t count,” she heard herself blurt.

She couldn’t see his face, but she knew Yato was looking at her, confused. Gathering herself as best she could, Hiyori said:

“This doesn’t count towards your offer.”

Yato didn’t respond immediately, but his fingers tightened around hers. A conversation like this really would be impossible if she could see him.

“Of course it doesn’t,” he replied. “That’s why I’m not charging.”

The fondness in Yato’s voice set her ears aflame, and she lost any ready response she might have had. She was almost glad that she couldn’t see his expression

The pressure of his hand around hers was gentle. He cradled it like it was an exquisite thing. Tingling warmth seemed to spread from her chest through her whole body: not the heat of embarrassment, but something tender and protective. Something that made moisture spring to her eyes, and urged her to curl her fingers tighter around Yato’s own.

A little longer, Hiyori thought. She held Yato’s hand tight in hers, and she prayed to the storm.

Just a little bit longer like this.

#scarfwrites #noragami #yatori #noragami fanfiction #yatori fanfiction #millennium zine

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ectoentity · 3 years ago

Text

Late Night Answers

Ectoberhaunt Day 5: Witching hour vs Twilight

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Rating: G

Characters: Danny Fenton, Kitty, Johnny 13

Tags: Witching hour, ghost culture?

Danny keeps waking up in the middle of the night. The same exact time every night. He decides to take a flight around town and runs into a couple ghosts who're willing to give him some answers.

Read on AO3 here.

Danny’s eyes opened. It was night. Above him, the stars on his ceiling gave off a dim glow. He was still wrapped in his blanket. There was no cold ache in his throat that would indicate his ghost sense had woken him up.

He glanced at his alarm clock. The red numbers read 3:00. Danny grumbled and turned on his side, away from the clock, and tried to go back to sleep. This was the third night this had happened. For the last two nights he’d woken up at exactly three in the morning for no reason. He’d tossed and turned in bed until around four.

This night apparently wasn’t much different. He laid in bed for about ten minutes, but his brain just kept going back to worries about the next day. It wasn’t restful at all. Danny sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes. If he was going to be awake for a while, he should at least do something useful.

In a flash of light Danny transformed. He flew through the wall into the chilly night air. He could feel the cold against his face, but it didn’t bother him like it would a normal human. There was no moon tonight - it had set before nightfall - but he could see perfectly well. Danny decided to head towards the city park. The night was fairly quiet. There were some cars on the roads, but not very many. Just a few night shift workers and late night travelers.

His ghost sense went off when he was halfway to the park. It felt familiar: kind of spiky but not painful or aggressive. Danny was slowly getting better at identifying ghosts based on how his ghost sense felt, but it was more of an art than a science. He had no idea who this could be. Who would be out at the park in the middle of the night and not causing havoc?

The sound reached him before he saw who it was. A motorcycle revved its engines, and someone shrieked in joy. It had to be Johnny, Shadow, and Kitty. Danny landed near the park fountain. They didn’t seem to be causing much trouble aside from being loud. He sat on the edge of the fountain and waited for them to come around again. It wasn’t long before Johnny’s ghostly bike flew in from the opposite area from where they’d left. As expected, Kitty was hugging Johnny as he did some spins that would have been dangerous if they’d still been alive. They rose up on the front wheel of the bike and spun three times before landing again. Then Johnny pulled into an empty parking spot in front of the fountain.

“Hey, kid,” Johnny called. “Surprised it took you so long to come out.”

Danny shrugged. “Didn’t seem like you were really causing trouble tonight.”

Behind Johnny, Kitty giggled. “You mean the last three nights?” she asked.

That got his attention. Danny floated up into a standing position, though his feet didn’t touch the ground. “What do you mean?” he asked. “What’ve you been doing?”

“Chill out, kid,” Johnny said. He got off his bike and offered his hand to Kitty. She grabbed it and jumped down from the bike. “We’ve just been riding around. Witching hour season, you know how it is."

Danny didn’t know exactly what Johnny meant, but he had a feeling it had to do with why he kept waking up. “I keep waking up at three,” he admitted, settling down to stand on the ground. “What’s that about?”

“How long’ve you been a ghost?” Kitty asked. “Or, whatever you are.”

Danny’s eyes flashed. “A little over a year.”

Kitty put a finger up to her chin. “And you didn’t notice last year? That’s a little weird, with how strong you are.”

“You guys kept me up almost every night for three months straight last year,” Danny grumbled. He was still a little bitter about that. It had ruined his grades. Now that he’d cemented his ownership of Amity Park, ghosts didn’t try to challenge him as much, but it had been a really awful for a while.

“Oh, right.” Kitty at least had the manners to look embarrassed. “Well, this time of night is when we’re more… present, I guess?” She looked at Johnny for confirmation, but he just shrugged. Kitty frowned and looked back at Danny. “The closer we get to Halloween, the more it affects us. I can be out of the Zone a little bit longer, Johnny and Shadow can ride faster, that sort of thing.”

On the one hand, Danny was glad to get some kind of answer for why he kept waking up. On the other… “So I’m gonna wake up in the middle of the night for no reason for a month?”

“Two months,” Johnny corrected. “Sorry, Phantom. It doesn’t just stop on November first.”

Danny sagged. He wiped a hand across his face in frustration. “Great. Thanks for telling me. I guess I could… get homework done,” he said weakly. It sounded like the worst possible thing to do in the middle of the night.

Johnny and Kitty stared at him and then burst out laughing. Danny glared until they quieted down enough to talk.

“Oh, Ancients, you’re such a goody-two-shoes,” Johnny snorted. “That’s awful. No, kid, this is ghost time. You can’t do lame shit like homework.”

“What do you want to do?” Kitty asked. “Really? Do you wanna do homework, or… I dunno, fight people? What do you even do when you’re having fun as a ghost?”

Danny frowned. “I don’t have fun as a ghost.” He gestured to his glowing, jumpsuit-clad form. “I’m only like this when I have to fight ghosts.”

The ghosts shared a glance before looking back at Danny. “That’s really sad, kid,” Kitty said. She brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear. “Do you even know what you’re like as a ghost?”

He blinked at her. “I mean… I’m me? I’m more, uh. Protective of stuff.” He blushed green and looked away. He didn’t really like thinking about all the weird ghost instincts that had popped up over the last year. It made him worry about being less human.

Johnny snorted. “No shit. You spent the last year beating the crap out of anyone who laid a foot in your territory.” Kitty elbowed him in the gut.

“Come on, Johnny, he was just a mote. We weren’t too chill for a few years, either.”

“Ow! Babe, we weren’t… you know!” Johnny waved at Danny, indicating his whole self. Danny raised an eyebrow.

“You did kind of try to take over my sister’s body and then possessed one of my classmates,” he reminded her.

Kitty rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but that was before I knew you were just a kid. Like, really a kid. Most ghosts don’t get near as strong as you in their first year, you know. We both thought you were super old but just acted like you were a kid.”

“Even though my human form looks just like me?” Danny asked, crossing his arms.

“Yeah?” Kitty said with a shrug. “Look, the only other one like you we’d heard about was the old guy. He’s been the same age for like, fifteen years or whatever. Why would we think you were any different?”

A lot of questions crossed Danny’s mind. Did that mean Vlad stopped aging? He knew the fruitloop looked weirdly young, even though he had grey hair, but he figured that was botox or something. Did that mean Danny was going to stop aging in a couple years? He was pretty sure he had grown some in the last year, but what if-

No, he had immediate things to deal with. These two probably didn’t know any of the answers to those questions.

“Okay, so, let me get this straight,” Danny said, “Witching hour is for doing ghost stuff. And I’m supposed to figure out what I like to do as a ghost, so I can do it for a couple months.”

“I guess?” Johnny said with a frown. “Not like we had to figure that out.”

Danny picked up his feet so he was hovering a couple feet above the ground in a seated position, one leg dangling and the other hiked up so his knee was in front of his torso. “I guess I like flying? It’s pretty nice. I can go over a hundred miles an hour.”

“Yeah, we can tell,” Kitty said, a hint of a laugh in her voice. She picked up her legs too so she hovered in a cross-legged position in front of him. “That’s not really a you thing, though, is it? Most ghosts like flying.”

“I still prefer the bike,” Johnny said.

“Objection noted, sweet heart,” Kitty teased. “You like protecting the town, right? Maybe you should fly around to make sure it’s okay?”

It wasn’t a bad idea, but something about it felt sour. “I do that all evening anyway,” Danny grumbled. “It’s not like I hate it, I just… It’s not fun.”

Kitty hummed. Danny was very glad she didn’t poke at that. Fighting ghosts could be fun sometimes, but mostly it was something he felt driven to do. He didn’t enjoy it like he would playing a game, or watching a meteor shower, or…

His eyes lit up. “There’s two meteor showers this month,” he said, remembering it suddenly. “The Draconids are in just a couple of days, and then the Orionids near the end of the month.”

“That’s like shooting stars, right?” Kitty asked.

“Exactly. It's rocks from space burning up in the atmosphere,” Danny said, a smile spreading across his face. Why hadn’t he thought about this before? He could get up above the clouds, away from the light pollution. “I bet I could get the best view in town now.”

“Of course he’s a nerd,” Johnny grumbled. Kitty shushed him.

“That sounds like a great thing to enjoy,” Kitty said to Danny. “Wanna ride with us one day and get out of town? Away from the lights?”

Danny hesitated. “You’d be okay with that?” He glanced from her to Johnny. Kitty seemed friendly enough when they weren’t fighting, but Johnny was the one who drove the bike.

Johnny frowned for a moment. He looked back at his bike. Danny could practically see the gears turning in his head. Finally Johnny turned back to Danny and said, “If it gets us out of this dump, yeah, we’ll take you stargazing.”

Before he knew what he was doing, Danny was hugging Johnny. “Holy shit thank you I haven’t gone in years I won’t let you regret it.”

After a few moments had passed, Johnny gently put his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “H-hey, it’s no big deal, kid.”

Far in the distance, a church bell rang.

“Well, that’s our cue,” Kitty said. “Same time tomorrow?”

Danny straightened up, a little embarrassed that he’d just hugged Johnny of all people. “Yeah. See you then.”

When he made it back to his bed, he fell asleep instantly.

#ectoberhaunt trick #ectoberhaunt 2021 #danny phantom fanfic #my writing #just some chatting #kitty (danny phantom)#johnny 13

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carriagelamp · 4 years ago

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Art of Aardman

I found myself a cheap copy of the Shaun the Sheep movie, so I was rewatching a bunch of Aardman films earlier this month and decided to hunt down some books too. For anyone that doesn’t know, Aardman is a British stop-motion studio that does fantastic work like Wallace and Gromit, Shaun the Sheep, Chicken Run, Early Man… tons of cool stuff. They’re always quirky and funny and warm-hearted. This was just a very nice art book for anyone that’s a fan of Aardman stop motion and wants to see a bit extra; it shows some cool concept art and blows up the neat details in Aardman work, especially in their intricate stuff like The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists!

Asterix and the Picts (Asterix and the Chariot Race, and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion)

I decided to try a couple of the new Asterix comics that were done by the new team, just to see if they stand up to the old ones (that and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion cause I’d never read that one before). They were pretty decent! Asterix and the Picts was my favourite of the two though I wouldn’t say either are going to contest for my favourite Asterix comic... but still! The art looks good and the stories felt like what I would expect, they made for a pleasant couple evenings of reading especially since it’s been so long since I’ve read a new Asterix comic. If you’ve never read Asterix it’s one of the biggest name French comic series in North America, as far as I know and very worth the read. It’s about a single Gaulish village that’s holding out against the invading Romans through sheer force of will, slapstick hijinks, and a magical super-strength potion brewed by their druid. Lots of fantastic visuals and cute wordplay, even in the English translations.

Bear

I found out about this bastion of Canadian literature via tumblr post that was losing its collective mind over the fact that some bizarre bear-based erotica novella somehow won the most prestigious literary prize available in Canada. Since I too found this hilarious and unspeakably bizarre I had to give it a read, obviously. And yes, the flat surface level summary is... a librarian moves out into rural Ontario and falls in love with a literal for-real not-supernatural-not-a-joke bear. And I have to say… it is actually worthy of an award, which I was not expecting given that I was there for a laugh. It has beautiful writing, and the subtextual story is pretty interesting… it kind of makes me think of The Haunting of Hill House actually in terms of themes. (Womanhood, personhood, independence, autonomy partially achieved through escaping the male gaze by claiming non-human lovers... listen if I were still in university I would right a paper comparing the two novels).

I dunno man, it’s fucking weird. Actually a well-written book, but sure is about a woman falling in love with a literal bear. Give it a read if you want something bonkers but like… high-brow bonkers.

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites

Best book I have read in like… a while. A long while. I am not a fast reader, and I consumed 90% of this book over a weekend. It’s not at all like Terry Pratchett, but at the same time it scratched an itch for me that I haven’t had satisfied since Pratchett’s death. A very clever, hilariously funny poly romance between a disabled werewolf, an anxious vampire lord, and an incredibly powerful woman, with heaps of social satire, political commentary, and sinister undertones. The whole thing reads a bit like fanfiction and I say that in the most flattering way possible -- it is so easy to jump right in and be immediately taken over by the characters and the world and the plot, you never feel like you’re fighting to engage even though the world-building is fascinating and expansive. It welcomes you in right away, it was the book equivalent of a quilt and a hug which is something I sorely needed with all this pandemic bullshit. If you read any of the books on this list, go read that one while I sit here in pain waiting for the sequel.

Kid Paddle

I watched the cartoon of Kid Paddle as a kid and was thinking about it recently, so I decided to hunt down some of the original comics online. They’re fun and weird, with a cute art style and fantastic monsters designs. (My favourites are always about Kid either daydreaming or playing games that involve Midam’s weird warty troll creatures. It’s like a cross between Calvin and Hobbes and Foxtrot with the fun sort of quirks that I love in Belgian comics. Unfortunately, unlike Asterix, I’ve only come across these ones in French, but if you can read French it’s totally worth popping over to The Internet Archive and reading the ones they have available.

The Last Firehawk: The Golden Temple

The lastest Firehawk book. Despite being written for quite young readers, I did enjoy the early books in this series quite a bit. They’re about a young owl and squirrel who found an egg for a magical species that was believed to be extinct. With the newly hatched firehawk, the three of them head off on a mission to find an ancient firehawk magic that could save the entire forest. Very basic adventure story but a good intro to the tropes for children. Unfortunately the quality really feels like it drops with each subsequent book; this will probably be the last one I bother reading.

Lumberjanes: The Moon Is Up

I honestly think I enjoy these Lumberjanes novels even more than the comics just because it really gives time to delve into each story and examine how the camper are really thinking and feeling about everything. (Also I’m always weak for novelizations of anything.) The Moon Is Up is a book that focuses more on Jo, and takes place during the camp’s much anticipated Galaxy Wars, a competition between cabins that goes over several days. While the campers prepare for these challenges though, they also run into a strange little creature with a penchant for cheese and theft. Roanoke cabin needs to keep ahead in Galaxy Wars and somehow deal with the fearsome Moon Pirates that a closing in...

Lumberjanes v4 (Out Of Time)

One of the Lumberjanes comics, a cool, girl-focused, queer comic series. Honestly, this is just a fun series that I never got as into as I should have. My advice is honestly to skip book one because it gets better as it continues, and I’ve really been enjoying the later books now that I’ve given it another go. It follows five campers at Miss Qiunzella Thiskwin Penniquiqul Thistle Crumpet’s Camp for Hardcore Lady Types (Jo, April, Molly, Mal, and Ripley) as they handle all sorts of challenges, from friendship to crushes, camp activities to supernatural horrors, getting badges to not being brutally killed. Great if you liked the vibe of Gravity Falls but want it to be queer-er.

Mooncakes

Another queer graphic novel, but unfortunately not a very good one. It really looked appealing and I had high hopes, but the book itself really didn’t hold up… I actually couldn’t even finish it, the plot was just too… non-existent. The art is fairly mediocre once you actually look at it, especially backgrounds, and it feels very… placid. Not much conflict or excitement or even a very compelling reason to keep reading. If you just want a soft queer supernatural you may get more mileage out of it than me, but it didn’t really do it for me. There’s better queer graphic novels out there.

New Boy In Town

One of the worst books I have ever read. My girlfriend had ordered a very different book online but through a frankly stupendous error was sent this 1980s pulp romance instead. Absolutely nauseating on levels I couldn’t even begin to enumerate here. Naturally we read the whole thing out loud. Probably took us 10 times longer to finish than it warranted because I had to stop every two sentences to lose my mind. If you like bad decisions, baffling hetero courting rituals, built-in cultural Christianity without actually calling it that, and gold panning then boy howdy is this the book for you.

(seriously, you better have patience for gold-panning if you attempt this one, because I sure learn that I don’t)

Piggies

This was a picture book I enjoyed as a kid and had a reason to reread recently. Honestly it’s just very cute and simple, and the art is completely mesmerizing. Wonderful if you know a young child that would enjoy a simple goofy boardbook.

Shaun the Sheep: Tales From Mossy Bottom

Related to my Aardman fascination earlier this month. I tried reading a varieties of Shaun the Sheep books — most of which are mediocre at best — but the Tales From Mossy Bottom Farm series is genuinely good. Just chapter books, of course, but the illustrations match the series’ concept art and each story feels like it could have jumped directly out of an episode. They’re just cute and feel-good! Kinda like Footrot Flats but more for kids, and from the sheep’s perspective moreso than the dog’s.

#aardman animation #shaun the sheep #lumberjanes #kid paddle #asterix #the last firehawk #hunger pangs: true love bites #marian engel #bear #canadian literature #canlit #queer lit #book review #book reviews #chatter

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thankskenpenders · 4 years ago

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And so that’s it... nearly 200 issues deep, we’re done with the contributions of original writer Michael Gallagher. I’ve been asked in the past about the possibility of writing an article going over Gallagher’s run, like what I did with Penders. And I might still do that. But for now, here’s a shorter postmortem summarizing my feelings on the work of the original writer for history’s longest-running video game comic

I think it’s easy to look back on Gallagher’s silly old stories with a lot of nostalgia, especially after seeing what the series would become in its Dark Age. I can’t blame anyone who feels this way. I feel that way sometimes, too. It was a simpler time, with short, self-contained stories and a ton of puns, and it was a lot more easily digestible than a lot of the teen melodrama and half-baked sci-fi that followed. But the thing is... that doesn’t mean that Gallagher’s writing was good

Gallagher was always an odd fit for Sonic. I can’t really blame the man for introducing lame concepts like Cal and Al that didn’t fit in with Sonic early on because it’s not like he had much to work with in the early days. The guy was expected to write a monthly comic series based on a couple 16-bit platformers with very little story and some snippets from a cartoon that wasn’t out yet. He also had no way of knowing that his work here would lay the foundation for the longest video game comic ever made. I don’t envy his job. Of course he’d do a goofball story where Sonic travels back to caveman times. It’s not like he had much else to do

But as the series progressed and the cartoons and games gave the comic writers more material to work with, Gallagher didn’t really play along. He gave us a few solid, fun stories like Mecha Madness, but for the most part he was off in his own world, trying to sell us on shoehorned characters like the Forty Fathom Freedom Fighters or the Downunda Freedom Fighters who existed almost exclusively to deliver new flavors of lame pun. One time he even worked with Jim Valentino to make a naval-gazing parody of classic Guardians of the Galaxy so they could make lame puns about a comic they used to write (that very few children in 2001 reading Archie Sonic would be familiar with)

People generally pinpoint Penders as the guy who became obsessed with his own pet characters over the main cast as time went on, but really, Gallagher was just as guilty. And honestly, sometimes Gallagher doing it bugged me more. At least Penders had some prominent characters people actually liked, like Elias, Lara-Su, and Julie-Su, as well as some semblance of an overarching plot to work with. Meanwhile Gallagher was over here trying desperately to get people to care about a group of characters he had created exclusively as a vehicle for trite Australia jokes

Gallagher did introduce a few characters who stuck around, but he doesn’t really deserve much of the credit for that. Most notable would probably be Fiona Fox, who would become a major recurring character under later writers... except Gallagher only really invented her robotic doppelganger that Robotnik tricked Tails into falling in love with that one time. He created Knuckles’ grandfather Athair, the one comic character to somehow make it into a cartoon, but Penders helped out with that lore and did more with the character, meaning most people just assume he’s another Penders echidna. He created Tails’ parents, but Karl and Ian were the ones who actually did stuff with them. And he created the Ancient Walkers, who were kind of neat at first but quickly devolved into a tired plot device, only to be killed off by Ian almost immediately to cut down on the deus ex machinas. If you look at the list of characters Gallagher created, it’s mostly just randos he created for the sake of puns

And that’s really what most of it comes down to. Lame puns. I’m totally down for Sonic stories that go for a silly tone. I love Sonic Boom as much as the next fan, and I’ve been having a blast with the extremely goofy Sonic X comics. I’m not a cartoon snob who won’t watch a show that doesn’t have action and drama and lore, I’m out here watching shows like Apple & Onion. But while Gallagher could write good jokes sometimes, he mostly relied on groanworthy newspaper strip-level puns. (I guess it’s fitting, considering he’s related to both the guy who created Heathcliff AND his successor who makes those comics about the Garbage Ape.) I love me a good pun from time to time, and a lot of Gallagher’s are funnier when shared out of context, but when a story is just wall to wall puns it becomes agonizing. Puns should be a spice, not a main ingredient. And when Gallagher got a chance to follow an ACTUAL newspaper comic strip format in the Off Panel, he fared even worse. It was so rare for the Off Panels he wrote to actually be any funny

He WAS genuinely funny at times, though. I’ll give him credit for that. I don’t want it to seem like I hated ALL of his stories. (He did impress me with at least one political joke that’s sadly still relevant today, and in hindsight there’s something really funny on a meta level about the dark and gritty return of Cal and Al.) I think his best work came when he was paired with better artists. Scott Shaw’s more energetic Sonics really helped sell the cartoony comedy in the original miniseries, and obviously Spaziante’s work on Mecha Madness made that story legendary. When he was stuck with the less exciting Manak or Mawhinney, though, not so much

Beyond the puns, there was also this undercurrent of nastiness, meanness, and general grossness in his stories that I don’t see as many fans pick up on. This was mainly evident in the many odd decisions he made with the female cast

We had his take on Sally, who was treated as little more than Sonic’s annoying, moody, bossy girlfriend who bickered with him, sat on a big throne, and occasionally got to be a damsel in distress. He added Bunnie to the cast early on, but it felt like he didn’t have many ideas for what to do with her except make her the butt of jokes about her being a southern belle, including literally making her say “the South shall rise again!” We had Barby Koala’s extremely creepy flirting with Tails, who was half her age. We had that tone deaf Off-Panel joke about turning the special dedicated to the female readers into a swimsuit special (which isn’t far off from what everyone else actually did). And we also had that baffling story where Dulcy killed her mother. I have NO idea what the fuck he thought he was going for with that one.

It wasn’t just the girls, though--Antoine was somehow even more of a punching bag in Gallagher’s early stories than he was on SatAM. At least in the cartoon Sonic was responding to Antoine’s’ massive ego when he poked fun at him. In the early comics, Sonic would constantly rag on Antoine at any opportunity he got. It was VERY distracting in the early issues, and it made his Sonic come off as way more of a jerk

Later writers would often talk about needing to fix certain characters. Penders, for all his countless insufferable faults, used his early stories to steer Sally towards the version of the character fans knew from SatAM. (He then ruined Sally in his own special way, but, you know.) Just about every writer who touched him spent years and years trying to fix Antoine and make readers stop hating him. The unspoken part here is that the original incarnations of these characters that everyone had to work so hard to fix... were Gallagher’s

Again, Gallagher didn’t have an easy job as the first writer on this series, and most of his stories were... fine. Nothing I’d recommend to non-fans, but they had their moments. They make for an amusing read for their sheer absurdity. But a lot of it ranged from not very good to outright bad. We’ll always cut him some slack for having so little to work off of when he started and for writing stories that were, in hindsight, better (or at least less grating) than a lot of the melodramatic schlock that came later. I’ll always have some nostalgia for those simpler times. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that Gallagher’s stuff was ever all that good

But I can’t hate the guy too much, because he gave me the greatest Sonic character of all time

#StH 185 #tkp post

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nevermindirah · 4 years ago

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I've been drafting and redrafting this meta post for weeks now. It's about to be 5781 and my country that was founded on settler colonial genocide and slavery and a deeply flawed but fierce attachment to democracy might go full dictatorship in about 6 weeks and it's time for me to post this thing.

All our immortals are warriors, all have been traumatized by war. But only three of them died their first deaths as soldiers in imperial armies. This fandom has already produced gallons of meta on Nicky dealing with his shit, because Joe would not fuck with an unapologetic Crusader. But there's very rich stuff in Booker and Nile's experiences and the parallels and distinctions between them.

Nile was 11 when her dad was killed in action - that was 2005, meaning she and her dad both died in the same war that George W Bush started in very tenuous response to 9/11. Sure, Nile's dad could have died in either Iraq or Afghanistan, or in a training accident or in an off-the-books mission we won't know about for a hundred more years, but he died in the War on Terror all the same. I had to look it up to be sure because Obama "drew down" the Afghanistan war in his second term, but nope, we're still in this fucking thing that never should've happened in the first place. The US war in Afghanistan just turned 19 years old. A lot of real-life Americans have experiences like the Freemans, parents and children both dying in the same war we shouldn't be in.

I know a lot of people like Nile who join the US military not just because it's the only realistic way for them to pay for college or afford decent healthcare, but also because they have a family history of military service that's a genuine source of pride. Military service has been a way for Americans of color to be accepted by white Americans as "true Americans" - from today's Dreamers who Obama promised would earn protection from deportation by enlisting, to Filipino veterans of WW2 earning US citizenship that Congress then denied them for several decades, to slaves "earning" their freedom through service in the Union Army and in the Continental Army before it. As if freedom is a thing one should have to earn. Lots of Black Americans have the last name Freeman for lots of different escaping-slavery reasons, but it's possible that this specific reason is how Nile got her last name.

Dying in a war you know your country chose to instigate unnecessarily and that maybe you believe it shouldn't be waging is a very particular kind of trauma. It is a much deeper trauma when your military service, and your father's, and maybe generations of your ancestors', is a source of pride and access to resources for you but your sacrifice is nearly meaningless to the white supremacist system that deploys you. That kind of cognitive dissonance encourages a person to ignore their own feelings just so they can function. How do you wake up in the morning, how do you risk your life every day, how do you *kill other people* in a war that shouldn't be happening and that you shouldn't have to serve in just so that your country sees you as human?

We see Nile do her best to be a kind and well-mannered invader. Depending on your experience with US imperialism, Nile giving candy to kids and reminding her squad to be respectful is either heartwarming or very disturbing propaganda. We also see Nile clutching her cross necklace and praying. From the second Christianity arrived on this land it's been a tool of white supremacist assimilation and control, but like military service, it's a fucked-up but genuine source of pride and access to resources for many Americans whose pre-Columbian ancestors were not Christian, and it's a powerful source of comfort and resilience. This Jew who's had a lot of Spanish Inquisition nightmares would like to say for the record that it's not Jesus's fault that his big name fans are such shitty people.

Nile is a good person trying to do her best in a fucked-up world. "Her best" just radically changed. Her access to information on just how fucked up the world is has also just radically changed, because everything's so fucked up a person needs a lot of time to learn about it all and not only does she have centuries but she won't have to spend that time worrying about rent and healthcare and taxes, and because she now has Joe and Nicky and Andy's stories, and because she now has Copley's inside scoop on just what the fuck the CIA has been up to. Like, I want a fic where Copley tells Nile what was really behind the brass's decisions that led to her experiences on the ground in Afghanistan, that led to her father's death, but also I Do Not Want That.

Nile was 19 when Alicia Garza posted on Facebook that Black Lives Matter. She grew up in Chicago well before white people on Twitter were saying maybe police violence against Black people is a problem. She knows this is a deeply fucked up country, and she put on her Marine uniform and deployed with her team of mostly fellow women of color, and maybe she and Dizzy and Jay marched in the streets between deployments, maybe they texted each other when a white manarchist at a protest sneered at one of them for being a Marine. Nile's been busy surviving, and she knows some shit and she's seen some shit but she hasn't had much time to think about what it all means. Now she's got time. And Joe, Nicky, and Andy are willing to listen. (Is Copley willing to listen? I could see that going either way.)

Booker might also be willing to listen. The brilliant idea of cleaning up the rat Frenchman so that Nile can have millennia of emotional support and orgasms sent me down a Wikipedia rabbit hole, and holy shit do Booker and Nile have a lot of shared life experience as pawns of imperial wars. Obviously Booker is white and a man and that makes a very big difference. (Though G-d help me, Booker could be Jewish and France was knocking its Jews around like ping-pong balls in the 18th-19th centuries. Jewish Booker wouldn't make him any less white but it does add a shit ton of depth of common experience: military service as a way for your country to see you as a full member of society who matters, because who you are means that's not guaranteed.)

Booker was hanged for desertion from the army Napoleon sent to invade Russia as part of his quest to control all of Europe. We learn in the comics / this YouTube video that Booker was on his way to prison for forgery when he was offered military service instead of jail time. While we don't know how he felt about the choice beyond that he did choose soldier over inmate, it's unlikely he thought invading Russia was a great idea, given he tried to desert because Napoleon like a true imperialist dumbass didn't plan for how he was going to feed his army or keep them from freezing to death in fucking Russian winter.

I find it very interesting that the French Empire was at its largest right before invading Russia and fell apart completely within a few years. My country has been falling the fuck apart for a while now - see aforementioned War on Terror, growing extremes of economic stratification in the richest country in the world, abject refusal to meaningfully deal with climate change that US-based corporations hold the lion's share of blame for - but between Trump's abject refusal to meaningfully deal with the coronavirus and strong likelihood that he'll refuse to leave office even if a certain pathetic moderate I will hold my nose and vote for does manage to earn a majority of votes, ~y~i~k~e~s.

Our only immortals who have never known a world before modernity and nationalism happen to have been born of wars that were the beginning of the end for the imperialist democracies that raised them, and I think in the centuries to come that's going to give them some very interesting shit to talk about.

Nile's a Young Millennial, a digital native born in the United States after the collapse of the USSR left her country as the world's only superpower. She's used to a pace of technological change that human brains are not evolved to handle.

Napoleon trying to make all of Europe into the French Empire was a leading cause of the growth of European nationalism and the establishment of liberal democracies both in Europe and in many places that Europeans had colonized. Booker's first war produced the only geopolitical world order Nile has ever known and I just have so many feelings ok. Nile the art history nerd is probably not aware of this, and why would she be? This humble meta author is, like Nile, a product of US public schools, and all they taught me about world history was Ancient Greece/Rome/Egypt/Mesopotamia and then World War 2. Being raised in The World's Only Superpower is WEIRD.

Nile the Young Millennial is used to the devastating volume of bad news the internet makes possible. But she has absolutely no concept of a world where the United States of America is not The World's Only Superpower. In order to get up in the morning and put on her gear and point guns at civilians in Afghanistan, she can only let herself think so much about whether that American exceptionalism thing is a good idea.

She's about to spend many, many years where the only people who she can truly trust are people who are older than not only her country but the IDEA of countries.

She's got time, and she's got a lot of new information at her disposal. But there comes a point where my obsession with her friendship and eventual very hot sex life with Booker just isn't about sex at all. Nile needs someone to talk to about the United States who Gets It. Booker the rat Frenchman coerced into Napoleon's army, and Copley the Black dual citizen of the US and UK who's retired from a CIA career that he half understands as deeply problematic but half still believes in hence his mind-bogglingly stupid partnership with Merrick, are the only people on the planet Nile can talk to honestly about, and really be understood in, all the thoughts and feelings and fears and hopes of her experience as a US Marine.

And one more thing before I go get ready for Rosh Hashanah: Orientalism was a defining element of the Crusades and that legacy is painfully clear in current US-led Western military activity in Afghanistan, Syria, Israel/Palestine, you name it. Turns out memoirs by French veterans of the Napoleonic Wars are full of Orientalist language about Russia as well. I am maybe/definitely writing a fic where Booker spends his exile reading critical race theory and decolonial feminism and trauma studies monographs because he can't be honest with a therapist but maybe he can heal this way and become the team therapist his own damn self. I just really need him to read Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and then go down on Nile, ok?

#nile freeman #tog meta #book of nile #sebastien le livre #the old guard #mine #us imperialism #european imperialism #jewish things #antiblackness #police violence #orientalism

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years ago

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B2:S - Chapter 5

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be lots of Viren deets, Best Boy Soren deets, some writing/continuity stuff, worldbuilding appreciation and half of a theory, Detective Rayla, Moon Temple geeking, Claudium and dark magic, and more!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

(I know for darn sure that I wrote up a post for chapter 4, but I can't find it anywhere so I guess Tumblr ate it and I'll have to redo it at some point, but today is not that day)

Viren, my evil dude, my bad guy, coming in clutch with the worldbuilding and backstory again! If you want to know decades of information, you gotta talk to Viren. Or read his scenes, at least. Here, he seems to not sleep much when he has a big problem to analyze his way through. Solutions trump pretty much everything else in this guy's life, and he's had a really hard week with a lot of new and complicated problems. Of course he's getting sleep-deprived trying to find his way through them all.

Harrow put so much trust in Viren when he made him High Mage! He just threw himself extra hard at that Lady Justice blindfold, didn't he? Didn't really want to see what Viren was doing in his magic study, so he left Viren to his devices. And Viren has a lot of devices.

Also, this is fascinating: Viren made the secret passage to his "less official study" in Katolis Castle! And he was inspired to do so by the way his own mentor kept the Puzzle House. What else could a Puzzle House be, except a place with secret passages? Yay! secret headcanon that "the Puzzle House" is just "Katolis Castle" from Kid Viren's perspective tho

So either Viren built all of those passageways, or at least the ones to his dungeon. Which means he has to have, or know where to get, a stash of those glowing blue Moonshadow crystals. Hmmm.

I can't wait to learn more about Kpp'Ar and young Viren, btw. From this description of Viren and all his literal secret ways, it feels like another parallel between Viren and Runaan, with the whole "secretive paths, members only, insider knowledge" type stuff. Only the really cool members of this cult club get to know the secrets, and guess what, kid, you're cool now but you can never tell anyone, okay? Our secret.

Yeahhh, that'll never backfire in any way for either of them.

Kpp'Ar calling puzzles and secrets "man-made magic," though. Yes sir, knowledge is indeed power.

This chapter mentions Runaan by name, from Viren's perspective. Generally that would imply that Viren knows his name, even though assassins do not share their names, and Runaan didn't seem to give his to Viren in the first book. However, there was a scene in book one where the last paragraph switched perspective from Viren to Runaan - a technique that's very common in visual media like movies and shows and gives you that "ohoho they left the room and didn't notice this, but you do!" vibe. Using Runaan's name there in book one, where Viren couldn't see it but readers could, helps them keep track of the assassin's story arc while maintaining Viren's racism.

So in book two, in which Runaan has no onscreen scenes (alas), using his name in a scene that calls back to the events in book one helps us remember what happened in that dungeon cell. It would be a bit muddier to recall the specifics if Viren kept thinking about Runaan as "Elf." So I'm cool with the perspective nudge because it serves a narrative purpose: clarity. But I'm also enjoying the angst of considering that, somehow, Viren learned Runaan's name either during or after the coining spell. Mwa ha ha haaa. (Obligatory "Keep my pretty name outta your mouth" goes here)

Okay, back to Viren's scheming! He took the mirror because it was human-sized in a dragon lair. He knew it didn't really fit there, and that made it interesting, so he stole it. But he realized it was really powerful when Runaan wouldn't tell him squat about it - the assassin's instinct to protect Xadian secrets from human hands meant that Viren was holding a very powerful Xadian secret. And that just made him want it all the more. Ah, Runaan, if only your relationship with lying was, like, the exact opposite of what it is. Nyx could've spun Viren a believable tale in 2 minutes flat.

Also of interest: Viren considers his cursed coins to be a final fate. He expects Runaan to remain in his coin forever. With the Chekhov's coins still extant in the storyline, we can assume that they'll come up again eventually, but Viren has no current plans to do anything with his elf money except carry it around.

It's worth noting that Viren admits that he got impatient when he trapped Runaan in the coin. Runaan's first fate in Katolis was supposed to be death at Soren's hands, but Claudia "saved" him from that. His next fate was to become spell components, but Viren's frustration with his stubbornness "saved" him from that fate, too. So now he's in a coin, where no one can chop him up at all. Yay? No, boo!

We get one last line about Runaan before Viren shifts gears: he makes a point of noting for us that Runaan's shackles are still locked shut. However much of Runaan made it into that coin - body, soul, hair care products - he was magicked there, pulled right out of his restraints.

The creepy black liquid that Viren pours right into his eyes is the last of a powerful potion he got from Kpp'Ar, and its recipe is ancient! Humans used it back in the age of Elarion to see through the illusions of the world. And we get a delightfully creepy bit of description about the preparation of this serum, which makes it abundantly clear that it's a Moon magic-based concoction, harvested from eyeless vipers on a moonless night, with the threat of irrevocable madness ("madness" by whose definition, though) if it's done wrong-

Hang on. Hold up. This is a Plato's Cave reference. OH MY GOD.

No no I'm fine, this is brilliant. Sorry, sorry, I couldn't figure why there was so much description for a potion prep that Viren didn't even have to perform himself. But now I get it. I see the light. HA. I should make a separate post for this, it's amazing.

Anyway, for reference, the humans who used this serum were called the Oracles of Ophidia, and Ophidia is a taxonomy group that includes all modern snakes. Can you say "creepy ancient snake rites"? I can! Woo!

Viren activates the serum with a spell, but apparently he's never done it before. He's not sure if it's supposed to be hot and bubbly, and he worries that it's been tainted by moonlight.

Oh, I do hope so.

The magic potion hurts, a lot. Viren will do just about anything, to himself or anyone, to do what he believes is necessary. He just risked madness and blindness to find out what this mirror does! Viren. Can you just. Take a nap or something. Have a Snickers.

This chapter gives us a fun clue that I don't remember from the show: when Viren's vision clears and he can see, his reflection has white pupils and the room reflected in the mirror has inverted colors. You know where else has inverted colors?

You know who else got white pupils for a hot second?

Okay, now it makes sense! Viren and Lujanne were both seeing into the realm beyond life and death. Him with his moon magic potion, and her with her moon powers on a full moon night at the Moon Nexus. Which is Very Interesting! Is it a direct hint about Aaravos's location, or just a separate cool detail? Orrr, does it look like a direct hint because Aaravos is actually trapped in the world beyond life and death, but it's actually separate and we'll see something about white pupils again later on?

Viren really does have self-esteem issues, we all picked up on it with his rant at his reflection. He throws a fit when he catches himself wondering if he's actually worthless. In the book version of his tantrum, he shoves the mirror and hurls a candelabra instead of flipping a table. He didn't need to shove the mirror to set the fire, but it's in here. Foreshadowing that perhaps, if push comes to shove, Viren will choose himself over Aaravos? Giving Aaravos time to peek through and see that the coast is clear?

Soren, my boyyyyy. He has a rough night at the Moon Nexus because two sides of him are fighting with each other. He struggles to understand Callum's friendship with Rayla, and he also fantasizes about chopping off Rayla's head. One of these is a pretty ordinary thing to do. The other is Soren's internalization of what he needs to do to gain his father's approval. If he brought his dad a chopped off elf head every week, he'd probably feel a lot more confident because Viren would praise him a lot more.

Okay, okay, omg, is it just me, or does the "Moonshadow Madness" story, as it's told in the book, seem like Soren just doesn't know what a monsterfucker is? He thinks an elf bite puts humans under a spell. But vampires are sexy, and some people want them to do more to them than just bite them. A passionate kiss under the moonlight could look very bitey, especially if one of the participants has horns and you're already culturally trained to hate them. No yeah, I'm already headcanoning an actual human-elf kiss that got misunderstood by an observer long ago.

it's Lujanne isn't it, we all know, because what is a love spell but a sweet soft illusion, I mean how else does she get supplies for her Caldera, I ask you, and also Corvus was totally sent to investigate once and he told Soren at camp what he saw

And then back to magefam angst: Soren pretending that his sister's nose-tapping is stupid, even though he actually thinks it's cool, just because their dad thinks it's stupid. Viren, istg. Let your kids like harmless things. It's so cute that Soren taps his nose back at her, though! Like they have their own sibling code. I hope we get to see the nose tap again, especially now that they've chosen different sides. It could mean so much, that they're not too far apart yet.

Rayla knows what buttery pancakes smell like. I love this. Do Moonshadow elves have butter and pancakes, does Rayla eat a stack of eight giant pancakes in the morning? Orrrr it is just illusion food? I don't care, let Rayla have pancakes! Everyone loves pancakes. Pancakes will save the world. this message brought to you by the fact that I can't eat pancakes rn, send help

I love that Rayla is both sus of the pancakes and hungry, and that combines into a very motivated "I will get to the bottom of this" attitude. She kind of goes into Poirot Mode when she inserts herself into Soren and Ellis's conversation about Ava, explaining about the wolf's illusion leg and segueing into her claim that the pancakes taste sus. Claudia confirms she used dark magic, and Rayla is furious. It's different than the show's version in that it puts Rayla in detective mode, as the only Moonshadow elf in the scene, and boy does she take that role seriously. Also, she doesn't actually swallow the dark magic pancake bite. It ends up on the ground just like Lujanne's grubs from that earlier meal. These poor kids are so nutrient-starved. You guys gotta eat!!

Rayla's determination and prejudices and the fact that she super knows Harrow is dead all dovetail to make her try repeatedly to persuade Callum that Soren and Claudia are Not To Be Trusted. It's nice that the book keeps taking the time to point out that Rayla is Well Intentioned But Flawed, just like Callum and pretty much every other character in the show. No one is Right All The Time, no one Knows More Than Everyone Else.

Callum loving the sound of Claudia's unique voice is so wholesome. When you like someone, it only makes sense that you like all the things about them that they can't change - like the sound of Claudia's voice. Her choices with dark magic, not so much!

Claudia seems to have the same concerns Soren does about Callum's relationship with Rayla, but she comes out and asks him. The inherent possession implied in "your elf" is interesting, though. Elves are not people to Claudia. They're enemies who can be disassembled for the magic inside them. So maybe more like robots than living beings, if she knew what a robot was. Maybe she heard Soren's "Moonshadow Madness" story and realized he totally missed the kissing implications - but she didn't, and now she's genuinely worried that Rayla could kiss Callum under a full moon and enchant him to do her will. Good thing it's only a half moon, then!

Okay, Callum nervously making a puppet hand and then not knowing what to do with his hands and freaking out about itching and moving and pointy elbows is such a ND mood. The sudden stress of knowing that someone else is noticing your existence and maybe you're Not Existing Right, amirite? Ugh, poor Callum.

The Moon Temple! Omg it's so pretty in the description! Made to be beautiful and useful, full of knowledge but also allowing light and life inside (butterflies and vines). Lujanne, when can I move in, please? Also, it's all the more angsty because Lujanne is the only one who gets to see this beautiful place, but it has lots of chairs and shelves and tables, and it was meant to be used by lots of people. :(((

Claudia knows some of the runes on the walls. She isn't in a hurry to copy the rest of them down or anything, either. Her spellwriting is very precise, and she's a skilled mage. Her father would have made sure she was aware of the dangers of drawing sloppy runes, as much as he made her aware of the dangers of doing dark magic wrong. And the whole point of dark magic is that it's easier to learn than primal magic. Claudia supports her dad and their shared knowledge and life path. She's not gonna go nuts over an elf library she can't translate.

Side note: Between Claudia knowing some Moon runes and Viren building a secret passageway and a dungeon and lighting it with the same blue crystals that Lujanne and Ethari use for light--and Claudia exclaiming that she loves ruins--I wonder once more if there are really Moonshadow ruins somewhere in Katolis, which Viren has found and looted. Father-daughter relic hunting trip, maybe while Soren is away at camp? Omgsh that would be so wild!

Callum out here having a Viren moment with his "I feel powerless unless I've got magic that lets me help" vibes. God. I love their complicated mirroring. One of the hard differences between them is that Callum is very sure dark magic is bad because you have to kill stuff and take its power to cast spells, and he doesn't want to be a person who kills and takes like that. The line he walks to be nice to Claudia on their tour of the Cursed Caldera because he likes her, while telling her that he doesn't want to do her magic, like, ever, is so fine that it might as well be a shifting shadow on the ground. It's a very fitting conversation to be having during the half moon, with its tricks and little white lies.

Callum being out of the castle and his comfort zone, having to deal with the fact that the Claudia he loves is not quite the Claudia who's chasing him down across the kingdom, but of the two of them, he's the only one with a problem with this.

They say that if you really want to get to know someone, you should spend time with them outside their comfort zone - in heavy traffic, with a small baby, taking care of a new pet, trying a new skill, following unfamiliar directions, etc. While the castle is familiar territory for them both, Callum's never really found his comfort zone yet, while Claudia is pretty comfortable with her growing skill set. The creepy part starts to kick in when Callum begins to realize that Claudia's comfort zone encompasses a whole bunch of stuff that seems like it should make her uncomfortable... but it doesn't. But that'll be for a future chapter!

#book two: sky spoilers #book two: sky #b2:s #tdp spoilers #viren #harrow #rayla #runaan #callum #claudia #soren #lujanne #moonshadow elves #aaravos

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 3 years ago

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Michael in the Mainstream: The Suicide Squad

Suicide Squad has frequently been touted as one of the worst comic book movies ever, and honestly? I don’t really agree, even if I almost wholeheartedly agree with every criticism of it. The editing is bad, the story is a mess, the Squad’s friendship is nonexistent, characters like Waller act like absolute idiots, Enchantress is a bad character and an absurd villain for these people to face… And yet, the core cast of scoundrels are all pretty likable when you wipe off the crap they’re buried under. These characters all could have shined bright if they were given competent writing and direction; the ideas are there, but the execution is unbelievably flawed due to excessive executive meddling (and probably a bit of pretentiousness on director David Ayer’s part). If only there was a director capable of taking the concept of a bunch of C-list villains getting together and performing dangerous missions and, along the way, becoming a found family…

That director thankfully exists, and his name is James Gunn. Gunn has already shown twice that he is capable of doing “a bunch of assholes become a found family” really well with the two Guardians of the Galaxy films, films that have a lot of style and flair that help make them the best films in the MCU, and considering Suicide Squad was mangled the way it was to try and be more in line with his Guardians films, it only makes sense to pull him in to give Task Force X another shot. Why settle for imitations when you can get the real thing? It’s not like he was doing anything else while Mickey Mouse put him in time out for naughty tweets, after all.

But this isn’t Gunn under the thumb of the Mouse, oh no; this is Gunn allowed to go absolutely wild. This is Gunn given the budget of a modern superhero film and asked to make a Troma picture, with all the blood, gore, and cheesiness that entails, and by god did he pull it off. Right from the get go we are given a taste of just what sort of movie we’re in for as a mangy child-murdering weasel man shows up and Nathan Fillion detaches his arms from his body to gently tap enemy soldiers on the head, and somehow things only get wackier from there.

Gunn seemed to actively go out of his way to fix every single problem of the original film. The characters, for instance, are all fairly similar to those of the first film. Bloodsport is clearly the stand in for Deadshot, but where Deadshot was just your average charming, funny Will Smith role to the point it could get distracting, Idris Elba makes Bloodsport a tired straight man to the wacky antics around him and portrays his growth through the film very well. Peacemaker is the jackass of the team in the vein of Captain Boomerang, but where Boomerang had little use in the narrative despite being the best and funniest non-Harley member of the team, Peacemaker is given his full due, with John Cena making him one of the funniest assholes ever put to film and even giving him a bit of depth and moral complexity. King Shark, AKA Nanaue, is obviously Killer Croc’s replacement, but where Croc was bland and really just stood in the background the whole movie, Nanaue is a sweet, charming, funny oaf with brutal strength who is just absolutely lovable and adorable, all capped off with hilarious vocal delivery from Sylvester Stallone himself. Polka-Dot Man is something of a replacement for El Diablo, though while El Diablo was really bungled by the narrative despite being well-acted and sympathetic, Polka-Dot Man is given ample opportunity to be funny, tragic, and useful all at once, and gives him a bit of an arc (pretty impressive for a character who was added in solely because Gunn googled who the lamest DC villains were). And finally, Ratcatcher is something of the replacement for Katana, being the second woman of the squad and the token good teammate, though where Katana was awkwardly shoehorned in at the last minute, Ratcatcher is clearly the heart of this team and brings the band together. Overall, the new Squad is leagues better than the original, and you will care for this band of criminals by the film’s end.

Returning characters get their due as well, particularly the ones really screwed over by the first film Waller and Flag get it the best of all. In the first film, Waller’s entire scheme was stupid, nonsensical, contradictory, and basically everything she did went against what was told to us about her, namely that she is a master manipulator. It was really a waste of Viola Davis, who had the presence and mannerisms down but who was constantly being failed by a shoddy script. Thankfully, that’s not the case here; Waller is very much the ultimate, manipulative girlboss she should be, from using her own troops as a distraction for another team to threatening Bloodsport with his daughter getting raped and murdered in prison over a minor offense if he doesn’t join her Suicide Squad. She is a stone cold bitch you will love to hate, and is easily one of the best comic book villains in film now (quite the turnaround all things considered). Flag is an actual character in this movie, with great chemistry with the members of the new Squad, particularly Bloodsport and Harley. Much like Bloodsport, he also gets a bit of a rivalry with Peacemaker going, which ends up being entertaining and even leads to a truly sad moment late in the film. Quite impressive for a guy who did nothing but spout awkward exposition in the first film.

Then we have Harley. I’m going to be honest, Harley has never been written better than she was in this film. While Robbie has had the character down from day one, the scripts have consistently failed her. The original film did nothing with her but sexualize her and have her spout crappy one-liners, and while Birds of Prey was a massive step up and had her written as she should be, the overall narrative of that film didn’t quite give her the due she deserved due to her feeling like a passive character pushed around by the flow of the plot. Here, though, Harley fully grasps at what’s given to and takes charge when she can, leading to one of the best action scenes in a film full of them. She ahs great interactions with her teammates and is just consistently funnier than she ever has been before, and it makes me happy to know someone who loves this character as much as Robbie does is finally getting to truly shine as she deserves.

The music and editing are vastly better. Remember how the original film had a new licensed song every minute, and almost all of them made no sense, and the music that played for Deadshot was exclusively rap artists (which was lowkey kinda racist)? Well, Gunn is bringing his ability to weave songs into the narrative with this one, but he also gives plenty of time for the music composed for the film to shine. As for the editing, gone are the obtrusive comic-book style cards that announce stupid throwaway details (and in a few cases, plot points you will very likely miss), replaced by more amusing and less obtrusive gags. The movie is also cut in a way where, you know, it makes sense. Everything flows naturally, and while there are a couple of points where time rewinds so we can see how we got to a certain point, it’s never so confusing that you can’t follow it.

The stakes are vastly overhauled. It made zero sense in the first film that Waller would assemble a team that consists of people whose powers range from “is good with weapons” to “is an Aztec fire god” to “is a big ugly crocodile man” to take on Superman-level threats. This is like if you sent a Boy Scout troop to fight Godzilla, it’s just not gonna end well and there’s an absurd disparity in power levels. Here, the team is being sent on a general black ops mission and have their skills selected by who would be most useful for the mission, and while they do end up taking on something a bit outside their context in the form of a certain cyclopean starfish alien, it’s a bit easier to swallow because of the buildup and because “big angry alien” is a lot more sensible as a threat to black op vigilantes than “ancient interdimensional witch goddess with a zombie army.”

Most importantly, though, is that this film lives up to its title. This is very much a suicide mission, and where the last team made it out relatively unscathed, this film suffers a lot of casualties. Characters die for gags, characters die suddenly, you might think a character is going to be a big, important part of the plot only for them to be dispatched right when it seems they’re getting going. For a film like this, it works perfectly, and some of the deaths are absolutely hilarious. That being said, you can kind of predict who lives and who dies based on star power alone; do you really think Harley’s gonna bite it? Come on.

I don’t really have many issues with the movie, but I will reiterate: this is essentially a Troma film with a massive budget, made by one of their alumni. Troma is a studio that makes gory, gross, and awesome B-grade movies and a similar irreverent mentality is on display here. If you can stomach gore, violence, and absurdity then this is a film you’re probably going to get into, but it’s definitely not the kind of comic book movie for everyone. Thankfully, it is exactly the kind of comic book movie for me. It honestly feels like the sort of movie I’d want to make, where I take a bunch of stupid C-list villains with dumb powers and give them actual development and characterization to the point the audience feels something for them. You’re going to be moved by a girl who controls rats, a stupid shark man, and a depressed dude who shoots polka-dots from his hands, and you’re not going to care.

I really hope they follow this up with another one, especially if they bring James Gunn back. There were a lot of characters he considered for the team, and a lot of them have potential, be that hilarious or dramatic. I mean, the man considered Mr. Freeze, that guy could be one hell of a leading man! Round out the team with some of the considered ideas like Rainbow Creature, Solomon Grundy, Chemo, Livewire, Punch and Jewelee, Man-Bat, Dogwelder, and the almighty Kite Man, and you’ve got one hell of a Suicide Squad! Also, maybe get Gunn to consider Crazy Quilt and Condiment King.

Really, the possibilities are endless, and that’s what the fun of a Suicide Squad movie should be: seeing the dumbest dregs of comic book history thrown into a place where they’re probably going to die horribly. Gunn managed to get that when Ayer couldn’t, and the results are perhaps his magnum opus. This is Gunn at his best and most free, unchained from the restrictions of forcing a film to tie into a bunch of others while also using all the tricks of his signature style to craft a damn fine film that easily holds up on its own outside the context of the DCEU. These are the kind of comic book movies we need, so let’s hope this film gets the respect it deserves so it acts as a wakeup call for studios content to churn out

#Michael in the Mainstream #review #movie review #The Suicide Squad #James Gunn #DC #DCEU #Harley Quinn #King Shark #Bloodsport #polka-dot man #Peacemaker #comic book movie #action movie

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avversiera-writes · 3 years ago

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touch your heart [senju tobirama/you] - chapter 3

Summary: Hashirama might go down as the worst matchmaker in history, but he thinks he might be on to something. Tobirama sees through his brother's schemes and is determined not to fall for it. Or fall for you.

Word Count: about 3k

AO3 LINK TO TOUCH YOUR HEART

AOR SERIES LINK TO ‘TIL DEATH DO US PART

[<<<CHAPTER ONE] [CHAPTER TWO]

With the thought of Tobirama being upset over the stunt you pulled the other day at the forefront of your mind, you decide to buy him breakfast. You are not really sure what he likes, but you decide to go to a vendor near the mansion to buy him some sweet pastries and hot black tea. You hope you’re not fired, though you’re sure that Tobirama cannot do that.

You sigh, hating how impulsive you can get. Madara had always told you not to get carried away.

You make your way to the library that is now your current workplace, but you do not find Tobirama in his usual spot. You set his food on his spot, and you get back to work, doing the things that he asked you to do. You will yourself to stay on task, but your focus is broken when Tobirama walks in, carrying more books and scrolls with him.

He places the pile in between the table to divide your spaces, and you find that the stacks of books and scrolls act as a shield for him.

You roll your eyes, thinking of commenting on how petty this is until Tobirama hands you an ancient, thick book that is about to fall apart at the seams. You hold it gently, afraid that the pages will fly away the moment you open it.

“What is this?” You inquire, unsure of what to do with the book. “Something you want me to throw away?”

Tobirama scowls and you give him an awkward grin.

“Or...recycle?” You suggest uneasily.

“I want you to study it and take notes on what you deem is important,” Tobirama answers, going around the table and sitting down so that he disappears from your view.

“Alright,” you acquiesce. “Also, I completed the list of skills I thought were important to have for young shinobis based on the information that you’ve given me from the past several days.”

“I see,” Tobirama says and he leaves it at that without saying anything more.

You give him a few moments, and you hear papers shuffling behind the wall of books that is keeping you from seeing him.

You push a column of books aside to give yourself some more space, but it proves to be detrimental because suddenly, you hear books and scrolls falling and a chair sliding back violently.

You come around the table and you find the tea you meant to give to him knocked over with its contents spilled.

Tobirama gives you a withering look, and he looks like he is about to yell.

“I said to not eat near me for this very reason,” Tobirama scolds.

You cringe. Luckily, the spill only got to the bottom book on the pile near yours. “I’m sorry, I was only trying to make up for yesterday.”

“What?” Tobirama says scathingly.

“You know, the sword...grabbing thing,” you reply as you move the books aside to get the wet book. “But in my defense, you did not need to stack such a tall pile of books to avoid me.”

Tobirama looks at you with disbelief and he crosses his arms together. “I am not avoiding you.”

“Right.” You do not believe him. “I will go clean this up. Sorry for the mess.”

You take up the book with you and you turn towards the exit to look for towels to clean up the spill.

“What you did,” Tobirama suddenly grunts out.

You turn around in surprise. He averts from your gaze.

“It’s good to take the enemies by surprise,” Tobirama comments almost under his breath and you stare at him, bewildered.

“...Alright,” you say awkwardly, waiting if he’s going to say something more, but that is it.

Is he actually complimenting you?

You press your lips to stop yourself from smiling.

Almost two weeks have passed and you found that the two of you have settled into a routine. The atmosphere between the two of you have eased so far, but few words are exchanged between the two of you unless it is about work. Tobirama is very good at breaking down things when you do not understand something, and you also find that the two of you agree a lot on the ideas that the two of you have come up with so far. Getting to know his students is a joy, and you actually do not mind him tagging along when you go to the Academy grounds to teach children who are eager to learn how to sword fight.

This is a skill you are most confident in.

Tobirama does not do much but watch, and then he leaves without saying a word if he is getting pulled elsewhere, which is a common occurrence.

In the days that you spend with him, you notice that Tobirama is always working. You have never seen him take a break in the hours you spend with him during the day, and when he is not with you, he is with his brother, his students or going around the village helping people and solving their menial problems.

You try to let him be, but it is a little concerning when you leave him to go eat lunch and still find him frowning at the things he has to do.

So you find yourself buying extra snacks for him, and you avoid anything liquid just in case another spill happens.

“I don’t like this kind of pastry,” Tobirama says after you set down a warm bread with melted cheese inside.

“Well, you have to get something in your stomach,” you counter.

You decide to just leave it near him, just in case he changes his mind.

More days have passed and it is starting to bother you how he just does not seem to take a break. This man can be doing this for hours without stopping and you are starting to wonder if he is human. You are jealous of his unmatched focus and his ability to delegate and organize everything, so you try to take notes and copy what he does. You want to improve yourself and Tobirama seems like a good role model to follow and obviously, his students are a testament to that.

You keep leaving him snacks, but he always says the same thing.

“I don’t like the filling in this mochi,” Tobirama says without wasting time. Like he is automatically programmed to dislike whatever you give him.

“That is popular right now,” you almost say in a defensive tone.

“It’s too sweet,” Tobirama cuts in a sharp tone.

“Then what would you like, my lord?” You are a little fed up now.

Tobirama lets out a deep breath and stops what he is doing. He leans back on his chair and his eyes meet yours for a moment before looking away. “What are you doing?”

“Wasting my money on you, obviously,” you roll your eyes.

“I did not ask,” Tobirama says, but you note that he looks taken aback by your words. A slight wrinkle forms on his pale forehead.

“Right,” you sigh and you move to your seat.

Tobirama’s eyes track you, his stare boring on your skin as if you are an unknown device he wants to tinker with. You ignore him, and after a few moments, he finally looks away and goes back to his work. His actions leave you mystified, but you let it go. You are probably bothering him by giving him snacks that he does not like.

Tobirama takes a book and opens it, but you hear his nose flare and he slams the book closed immediately.

You look up, and then you see the book in front of him. You bite your tongue to keep yourself from laughing.

“What is this?” Tobirama barks, his ears turning pink.

You raise an eyebrow, not wanting to confess what you did yet. “Well, if you have not noticed, that is a book, my lord.”

“Where is my book?” Tobirama demands, and a vein pops out of his very pink neck.

“Relax, it’s right here, I just switched the covers,” you say to try and calm him down.

“With such indecent pictures?!”

“I was just trying to make you laugh!” You have exchanged one of his books with pornography that you got from the market this morning.

Tobirama grits his teeth. “On what plane of existence is this ever hilarious?”

You sigh. “ You have no sense of humor. A smile or a laugh on that handsome face of yours would not hurt.”

Tobirama’s left eye twitches. “Get out,” he grits out.

Suddenly, you feel bad and you raise your hands to show him defeat. “Okay, okay, I am sorry. I was just trying to cheer you up.”

Tobirama stares at you incredulously. “Then I will leave.”

He starts to gather his things, and you jump up from your seat and you step in front of his way.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you sigh. “I really am sorry.”

Tobirama glances down at you, and you are suddenly aware of the small distance between the two of you.

You step back to give him room. “I am just concerned, okay? You are always working, and I never saw you once take your time to get something to eat.” You open your palm towards him to show that you really mean peace. “I also noticed that you look very tired.”

Tobirama frowns at you, and he takes a deep breath. “The Hokage has been very busy these days,” he says.

You wait for him to elaborate, and you study his face. He looks like he is thinking about what to say next.

“But I am fine,” Tobirama finishes after a minute. He glances at you, barely meeting your eyes and then he glances away. “Let’s get to work. We’re meeting the Hokage soon to present to him what we have so far.”

You let out a breath of relief, and you think about how pink Tobirama’s ears were and you store that detail in the back of your mind.

Tobirama stares as his brother guffaws out loud for a minute. He just told his elder brother about your several pranks on him, and he even admitted–he admitted, something that he has some trouble doing at times–being uneasy anticipating your next act of micro-terrorism on him.

And his brother laughed. His brother, who is always kind and understanding towards him and knows how to ease his mind, laughed.

Everyone just seems to laugh at him these days. Since when did he become the brunt of many consequent unsaid jokes?

“Tobirama, it seems like she is just trying to be nice,” Hashirama admonishes and wipes a small tear from the corner of his eye.

“Nice?” Tobirama snaps, overwhelmingly offended by this. His lips form into a small pout unconsciously.

Hashirama sighs. “Look, I know it’s not easy getting along with other people that are not family and seeing them every day, but it’s normal to clash with different personalities.”

“Not like this,” Tobirama immediately juts in. “She has it out for me.”

“You said that the two of you agree mostly on everything, why would she have it out for you?”

Tobirama steps forward, suddenly determined. “Elder brother, I have some suspicions that–”

A knock interrupts his sentence and Tobirama immediately halts.

Hashirama shoots his brother a look. “Come in!”

The door opens, and to Tobirama’s horror, you appear behind it.

“Am I late?” You ask cheerfully.

Tobirama’s mind starts to ring alarm bells. Who smiles like that this early in the morning?

“No, no, just in time,” Hashirama reassures and beckons you to get closer.

Tobirama feels your glance on him, and everything in him starts to twist tautly. Your presence disturbs the atmosphere around him, and the only thing you did was smile at his brother.

“Okay,” Hashirama begins. “What do you two have so far?”

Tobirama clears his throat and steps forward, wanting to get the first word in. He wants his brother to be impressed by what he has done so far.

“We have compiled a list of skills that must be met before graduating from the Academy and we tested it on my students,” Tobirama says. “I also decided to break up the ranks even more, adding a special jounin rank, and added more skills that need to be mastered in order to move up from genin.”

Tobirama steps forward and hands Hashirama a copy of the said list. “Aside from the skills, we also added several electives that the students can take, such as history, arts and science.”

Hashirama nods and then he turns to you.

“Well, in addition to that, we have enlisted many people to commission as soon as possible to help us achieve this,” you start. “This is the estimated budget that we may need to do so, and I would like that this is done as soon as possible–to your utmost convenience–of course, so that we can have drafts to work with and reform before the new school year.”

Hashirama grins as you hand him the paper with the names and the figures you have written out. “This is brilliant, and way better than I have imagined. To be honest, I thought this was going to be a disaster.”

Tobirama’s head snaps up at this, and he hears you laugh.

“Oh, Lord Hokage, you are so hilarious!”

Tobirama’s eyes snap to your face, noticing that you are smirking with mirth in your eyes. His brother waves a hand, clearly fawning over you.

“Oh please, you do not need to call me Lord Hokage every time you see me,” Hashirama chuckles. “My name will do.”

“Oh no, that is too much, my lord,” you smile and Tobirama feels his head grow hot. “Maybe we can agree on Lord Hashirama? People may talk if I suddenly start calling you by your first name.”

Tobirama sees you wink at his brother and he reels. What is this ? You have got Madara under your spell, and now his own brother is also enthralled by you. He remembers you asking cattily for compensation and he jumps to the assumption that this may be a ploy by you to get just that, by getting closer to the founding fathers of this village.

Not on his watch.

“Anyways, are the two of you getting along well?” Hashirama inquires.

“Of course,” you lie easily and Tobirama almost loses his cool.

But he does not, because he knows self-control.

He wants to cut this conversation short and tell his brother to stop entertaining you like this. It is indecent.

“And I think he’s a great teacher,” you continue. “I am learning a lot from him.”

Tobirama frowns and thinks about the times that you have tried to copy him.

“Yes, he is very bright,” Hashirama glances at Tobirama. “Well, I think that will be all. Thank you.”

You nod, and Tobirama stares daggers at his brother.

You rush out of the office, noting how Tobirama seems to react more around his brother.

The door opens, and Tobirama quickly catches up to you. His hand reaches for you to stop you, but he catches your arm and whirls you to face him.

“What is wrong with you?” He demands.

“What?” You snap, and you shake off his grip on your arm. “What now, Lord Tobirama?”

Tobirama glares at you vehemently. “You do know that my brother is married.”

You stare at him, confusion twisting your face. “What? What kind of question is that? Of course I do.”

Tobirama stares at you even more, and he opens his mouth. He is unable to form words.

“What are you trying to say?” You enunciate slowly and you squint your eyes at him. You fold your arms and Tobirama notes that this is the first time that you look genuinely pissed at him.

Tobirama is still staring at you, and the silence prolongs and it becomes awkward.

“Okay…?” You prompt, and Tobirama hears the vexation on your tone. “You know, your brother has been so kind to me, I am just trying to be friendly. Not that you know what that is.”

Tobirama’s face twists uncomfortably. He stands there, his hands open and closing, and he abruptly leaves you hanging, unsure of what else to do or say.

It is becoming a common occurrence for him to be disarmed by you. His mind has come up with so many assumptions about you, but you knock them out one by one. He cannot figure you out, not just because he does not know your background. He does not know how your mind works, but he can tell that you are smart and very skilled in what you do. Despite his attempts at probing you, you give him nothing. For once, he is clueless on how to act around somebody.

Tobirama digs his nails into his palm.

Your act will fall sooner or later, and he will be the one to uncover it.

[CHAPTER FOUR >>>]

#avversiera writes #angelica writes #'til death do us part #Tobirama Senju #Senju Tobirama #tobirama x reader #senju tobirama x reader #tobirama x you #senju tobirama x you #tobirama x y/n #naruto fanfiction

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unhealthyfanobsession · 4 years ago

Text

The Hit List

This is based on a head canon I posted a couple days ago- just couldn’t get the idea of Nesta having an Arya-Stark style hit list; mostly crack and pure fluff if I’m being honest 🤷‍♀️

Cassian and Nesta have lived together for 137 years as of last Saturday. Maybe he should be embarrassed that he has been counting, but when one lives with Nesta Archeron one gets used to ensuring that they are always prepared. The woman has an infallible memory. Cassian knows every date that is of any consequence. He knows the day that her mother died because she always shrinks into herself just a little bit on that day, even after all of these years. He knows the day that they met, the day that the war ended, and the day that their mating bond snapped into place. He knows the day that they got married in a tiny little ceremony that consisted of only them plus Elain and Azriel- even Rhysand and Feyre weren’t present- and he knows the day that she finally, finally allowed herself to admit it to everyone that they had gotten married. Cassian knows everything about Nesta Archeron. He has spent 142 years learning every single piece of her (yeah you can do the math on how long it took him to convince her to move out of that damn run down apartment).

There is nothing about Nesta Archeron that could surprise him at this point. He can read her moods in the tense of her shoulders before she even wakes up in the morning. He can tell whether or not she will be amiable to seeing other people by the firmness or reluctance of her lips against his before they eat breakfast.

Cassian knows Nesta.

He does.

Really.

So why is he crinkling his brow in confusion as he stares at this tiny, ancient looking piece of parchment that has fallen out of her drawer.

Nesta is nearing the end of her cycle and he was sent to this particular drawer (his favorite if he’s being honest, but that is not the purpose of this moment) to fetch her new undergarments as she curses and tries to get out of their bed in the next room.

If it were even a day earlier Cassian would forget the paper. He would sprint into that room and tie her stubborn ass to the bed if he had to. She never rests long enough on her cycle, but this should be the last day so nothing bad will happen if she insists on taking herself to the bath.

Cassian is far too intrigued by this discovery to pay the subtle grunts any attention. The paper looks like it has been folded over and over again, uncreased and re-creased. It looks old, and coming from him that is saying something.

Cassian thinks that maybe he shouldn’t open it, but... he and Nesta don’t keep secrets, so surely if she had one then she would hide it better than shoving it under all of these scraps of lace in her underwear drawer. He smoothes the paper out carefully and his brow only creases farther as he reads it

Hybern

Old bitch Queen

Stupid Glaring Queen

White Queen

Old Fae Queen

Tomas

Beron

Jurian

Tamlin

Devlon

The last 3 names are deeply faded, clearly having been written in lead and then scratched at. Not scratched out in the way the others are, with a single black line through them, but... erased? Or attempted to be erased at least.

Cassian rubs his thumb along the final line, trying to feel the deeply faded and worn through section of the paper. The writer clearly wrote and then attempted to erase this word several times. It only takes him a minute to figure it out.

Rhysand

Cassian has never been so confused. None of these names seem to fit together in any way that he can make sense of. The Queens, he has to imagine refers to the mortal Queens from the war, and Hybern is explanatory enough- but what do 3 High Lords have to do with any of that? (Well... 2 current High Lords and a “woefully” usurped loser that no one will miss). Not to mention a resurrected human, the Lord of Windhaven, and some poor male named... Tomas?

Cassian shakes his head and does what he always does when something about Nesta confuses him. He walks right into their bedroom and asks her.

“What is this?”

Nesta lifts her eyes from the sheets, hands still gripping at her abdomen as she glares daggers at him.

“The fact that males don’t have to go through this torture is proof that the cauldron has always been an insufferable prick” she growls.

“That’s what I love about you, Nes” he grins that infuriatingly charming lopsided grin of his “you could wish that you weren’t in pain, but no no- instead you wish that I was as well”

“That stupid mating bond does claim to pair equals” she grimaces

“Oh so now it’s stupid?”

“If stuck me with you, didn’t it?”

Cassian laughs, moving closer to the bed with a wicked grin “I didn’t hear you complaining last night as I took that pain away in the only way that ever seems to work” he winks

“Hmmm” Nesta considers idly, reaching out to pull him onto the bed beside her so that she can lean her back against his chest “I suppose you do have your uses.”

Cassian chuckles, running a hand through her hair “what is this?” He asks again, holding up the parchment.

Nesta pauses for only a second before shrugging “it’s my kill list”

“Your what?” She said the words so casually, as though she was informing him what she wanted for dinner that night.

“I should think that the words ‘kill list’ are rather self explanatory”

Cassian pauses, looking down at the female that he thought he knew so well.

They are literally connected together. How could he not know what a bloodthirsty little minx his wife is? Well no, that isn’t accurate. He did know, he just didn’t know that she wrote it all down so literally and physically.

“Rhysand’s name is on this list”

“No it isn’t” Nesta shakes her head in annoyance “I erased it last year after he built that garden and named it for Elain” she shrugs “he’s one of the rotating players. Every few years he does something to get his name on the list but then usually he acquits himself within the decade.”

Cassian only nods, long since learning the pattern of Nesta’s speech that indicates when she is finished speaking on a matter and will not give it any more of her time. Of course, he also knows exactly the right buttons to push in order to make her keep speaking, but... now isn’t the time to play one of those cards. Nesta and Rhysand have always shared a tenuous relationship at best, so he supposes that her erasing his name from the kill list is probably about the greatest level of affection she will ever show the High Lord.

“Who is Tomas?” Nesta’s entire body tenses in his arms and Cassian’s mirrors her exactly one second later.

Oh.

Him.

“I’m glad that he is crossed out” Cassian grits through clenched teeth.

Nesta sighs “not nearly as satisfying an end as some of the others I’m afraid. So much time passed that one day I realized it would be impossible for him to still be alive, so I just crossed his name out” she shrugs.

”why does that old Queen still draw breath?” He grins a little, enjoying the strangely morbid conversation as he moves his hands down to gently massage her lower abdomen. She lets out a little moan that he assumes means some of her pain is subsiding.

“Every day that she lives is her punishment” Nesta grins this time, and Cassian sees it as she lays her head back against his shoulder “she wanted to be young and beautiful forever. Now she is an immortal old crone. If I never cross that name off I’ll consider it a type of victory entirely its own”

“What about Devlon, Jurian, and Tamlin?”

Nesta scoffs “they’re all on thin ice, but...” she sighs, an annoyed sort of huff “Tamlin did save Elain in a way and Jurian was playing doubt agent. And...” she pauses “you speak well of Devlon in comparison to the other Illyrian lords so he remains in the safe zone...for now.”

Cassian just grins a little, hands continuing their careful ministrations “I love you” he murmurs into her hair.

“I love you too”

Cassian pauses, straightening up a bit and pulling Nesta with him as he does so.

“Wait” he narrows his eyes “have I ever been on this list?”

Nesta curls her lips into a teasing smirk and gives him the most innocent little shrug as an answer.

Cassian chuckles, resting his chin on top of her head “as long as you always erase it”

“I use a lighter lead when I want to put you on it” she turns over in his arms so that she can look up at him “easier to erase. No smudges”

“I do believe that is that most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me, Nesta” they both laugh as Cassian leans down to capture her lips in his own, and suddenly Nesta’s cramps don’t seem quite so bad.

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #a court of silver flames #acosf #sarah j maas #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #nesta and cassian #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #acotar

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