#that are normalized in small dogs would be absolutely intolerable in large ones

[fjordfolk]

i will say this: the signal i see being most ignored in small dogs thats heeded in large dogs is "don't touch me."

[countryshitposts]

You’re Shooting Your Bullet The Wrong Way

Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Death of a Bachelor

Trigger Warnings; murder, violence, blood

-

Name Guide

Nippon Koku- Japan

Teikoku Nippon- Japan Empire

Sulian- Soviet Union

Renmin- China

Choson Inmin- North Korea

Daehan Minguk- South Korea

Daehan Imsi- Korean Provisional Government

-

"Koku, our brother's calling us!" Koku lifts his head up from where he was loathing the words he had just typed on the keyboard, a small twinge of excitement in his face. He immediately closes the bright screen of the laptop and exits his bedroom, running down the long and winding stairs that he loved playing on when he was a sweer child, along with his older brother who'd accompany him.

He lands on the floors gracefully, seeing Teikoku staring at him with a huge smile on his face.

"Teikoku!", Koku exclaims, running towards his brother, laughing a little. He feels Tokyo's grimace from far away, giving him a sense of discomfort that will plague him for sometime before deciding that his brother is simply just jealous of the affection Teikoku gives to him.

(Sometimes he'd see the desolation in his children's eyes too; a spark of hope that Teikoku would move on from Koku so he could embrace them in such a filial way, and ocassionally, Koku would wonder why he wouldn't notice his own children.)

"How are you today?" Teikoku ruffles his hair and Koku - with a smile - protests against it.

"I'm fine, onii-chan!", he replies with a small laugh. "I'm finishing the latest chapter of the book I'm writing."

Teikoku chuckles, "Well, tell me if you're finished with the whole thing; I'd love to read it. But first let's have dinner, shall we? Manchukuo!" He calls onto his butler, who scuttles out of his room, all stumbling and awkward as he fixes his glasses.

(Koku thinks that Manchukuo should - say - be more prepared and look absolutely professional and impressionable, lest many think that their bodyguard... isn't a bodyguard and more like a chaperone who would read books and a cup of coffee in his spare time.)

"Yes, sir?", he stutters, causing Teikoku to frown up at him; Manchukuo fixes his tie and hair, leading it to become more dishevelled rather than kept, like a dog with fur sticking on their ends.

"Start the car. We're going to have dinner someplace else." Teikoku's tone was crisp- like he wanted to hit Manchukuo in front of everyone to humiliate him, showing how intolerant he is of his behaviour and the way he works. Manchukuo rapidly nods as he scampers towards the exit doors, Teikoku's eyes following him in an ill-mannered and impatient face; one second and he'll be shot at.

Koku smiles a little at Teikoku, whose frown turns upside down as he looks at his half-brother, the simplest speck of light in the cloud covered sky, reaching to the dark depths of the sea to pull out the orient pearl in the murky waters.

He looks at Koku brightly with a glint in his eyes, "Where would you like to have dinner, then?"

Koku shrugs, knowing full well that he's not fond of making decisions of his own. "Where do you want to go, Teikoku?"

Teikoku thinks for a moment before clicking his tongue. "There's this new restaurant that opened at the centre of the city; you'll adore it."

Koku nods, "And I trust your judgement."

("I don't", Tokyo whispers to Hokkaido, who hums affirmation, Koku barely catching their exchange before moving on.)

"Your ride is ready, sir", Manchukuo's head protudes from the front door, and Teikoku's mood immediately sours, already strutting to the doors, Koku and the others trying to catch up with his fast pace.

Manchukuo and Teikoku were busily talking - out of earshot - as Koku, Hokkaido and Tokyo busy tehmselves in the passenger seats (Okinawa sits on Hokkaido's lap, his half-brother steadying him).

He looks out the dark lenses of the windows, giving everything a much darker and subtle tone of sadness; from the evergreen shrubs Koku had planted years ago with his tiny hands, being helped by his brother as he works, turned to a much more darker shade of what has transpired.

The car ride was not annoyingly noisy to the ears nor unbearably silent- Manchukuo and Teikoku were making small talk in hushed voices, like a buzzing bee in Koku's ear thinking the small insect has hit jackpot before being swatted away by a large force. Okinawa was getting fussy on Hokkaido's lap, gurgling and wanting to be transferred towards Tokyo, who was silently reading, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, looking so much at peace.

Koku would sometimes envy at how... normal they seem to be around each other, like they are the best of friends who stick through even the most hardened times, and whenever they look at each other there was such understanding in their eyes, like they empathise in whatever way. And he remembers that whenever Teikoku arrives, they'd freeze up and halt their conversation, their eyes following after their own blood with fear, like he was a predator in their area full of prey. Like they were wary that Teikoku would turn his head to them with either a small smirk on his face, intent on humiliating them, or with an angry frown that'd mean it was the end of their world and he'd tear them apart until they were shreds of life.

They were awkward and wary around Koku too; a simple smile at their direction is enough to make them flinch or send them running to the other direction. Like he was Teikoku. Like he means harm and he needs harm to sustain his lifeline.

(He will never get why they are not fond of their own blood.)

So Koku sits in silence, grey eyes on the car's carpeted floors (credits to Teikoku).

-

Manchukuo parks the car in a spot where the sun never leaves them, always bothering them despite the fact it is being conquered by the moon and stars who wish to devour the light to make way for the darkness, and the dying sun forging its flames on the surface of the moon, mangled holes giving off the light the sun but weaker before it dies, and at twilight it rises back from the dead and the cycle continues.

"Ugh, the suns' reaching everywhere", Koku says as he exits the car, arm above his head and shades present underneath his eyes, the glaring light of the sun still escaping through the darkest filters of his innate boundary. "For a dying light against the sky, it's still annoyingly bright."

Teikoku laughs a little as he emerges from the car, "Don't worry, dinner's coming."

The brand new restaurant seems to be jam-packed, despite the fact that - according to Teikoku - it had just opened yesterday. Its huge windows reflect himself, his dark hair and pale complexion, striking gray eyes that looks through the reflections and into the thrums of people inside them; the people already comfortably seated on the seats around the tables, waiters and waitresses serving them their long-awaited dishes for the day, the chandelier above them glowing golden with its light bulbs looking more like waxed candles dancing with flames than inventions of electricity. It was enticing, and at the same time making Koku uncomfortable; for some reason he can never really be at peace with the notion of being in a place full of people, strangers- maybe it was because he only grew up knowing and getting used to only his family talking to him, so that talking to another person was now an act of force and a chore (although chores are much, much better than talking to a complete stranger).

Koku spent so much time admiring the place and daydreaming that he has - once again - built a glass dome, protecting himself from any disturbances that will disrupt his thought process and serenity, which can only be shattered like a vulnerable and pricey vase with one voice.

"Koku!", he feels a hand snake around his shoulders, and he jumps a little before instinctively calming down when he is faced with Teikoku's small smirk on his lips. "Daydreaming again, weren't you?"

Koku absently nods, his eyes turning back to the inside of the restaurant, its golden streaks of light looking much more realistic than it intends to be, making the whole venue all the more charming. "This place is beautiful."

Teikoku chuckles a little. "That it is- you want to go inside? I'd made a reservation a week ago."

"Of course I do!"

"Well then", Teikoku takes a step and Koku's feet follows, "let's go in, shall we?"

Once the door opens to let his family inside of the grandeur, he feels a rush of cool air collide with his warm cheeks, the scent of cooked food filling the air, jazz music playing from the speakers above them and small chatter reaching his ears. He hears the clinks of wine glasses and people laughing, trying to look and act their absolute best in the midst of formality. The sizzling of frying pans reaches Koku's ears too, as the door to the kitchen swishes back and forth like a baseball bat in a player's hands, ever so ready in a match and ever so used to the feeling of the hardened wood around his palms. The smell of the atmosphere makes him wonder if he could eat thin air; a mix of wine, roasted beef and many other specialties he can trace, lingering in the air as its smoky fingers play with their heartstrings one by one, being replaced with another, then another, then another.

Koku takes a seat right beside Teikoku, who was once again talking to Manchukuo in a hushed voice.

(Seriously, what are they talking about and why are they keeping the conversation from him? Was the question in his mind, along with others, but he swallows them down in fear of making his brother ultimately mad.)

So he keeps his eyes straight forward, eyeing every detail that catches his eye- that Okinawa is now playing with Tokyo and Hokkaido's wine glasses, making airplane noises; that the chandelier above them is swaying slightly as the air changes its course towards it; that a waiter is covering his face with a mask, hands clasped, leg bouncing impatiently, looking everywhere, turning his head left and right like he was expecting a guest- until at last, he looks right ahead at Teikoku before fast-walking to the kitchen's door...

Koku blinks, his eyes never leaving that door until he hears someone snap his fingers, and he turns his attention back to his family, now ordering their desired meals. Teikoku looks at him expectantly, fingers drumming the table and raising a brow at his direction. Koku deliberately has no time for ordering, so he tells Teikoku he wants what his brother wants.

Teikoku blinks a little, "Are you sure you want spicy food?"

Koku nods with no hesitation. "Sure."

Teikoku dismisses the waiter with a little wave, before resuming his conversation with Manchukuo.

The ignored boy decided to dream about how one day, he will become a world renowned writer. He can already imagine his books in many a shelves, waiting to be read by people who wishes to read the words he has so carefully integrated into the delicate pages that can be folded or thrown into the lake but words still readable (of course he would not accept his book being treated that way), and interpretative to the audience as their eyes roam around the words looping the page with hunger, beads of sweat dropping from the pores of their skin as their finger bends to turn the page.

(He would accept the fact that not everyone would like the way he write though; at least he would get the pleasing of a few audiences and even good compliments and reviews that will make him red for the next few months.)

He hums a small song his mother used to sing to him before she mysteriously vanished (a melody he hums everyday to remember his mother by), trying to look busy by examining the plain white napkin and tissue at his side of the table, at what is the highest tone the wine glass can go when he starts hitting it purposefully with a spoon, and basically tuning everything out until it becomes a static buzz like it is all in his head.

And then like a bomb buzzing throughout the sky to create a cataclysm of events, the whole world implodes all around him. Then the next second seems like everything was in slow motion; there was a buzzing and ringing in his ears that were like a whole garbled mess of another language that a barrier had been formed around them all. Everything was falling to bits in such a slow pace, he wonders if he really is in a movie setting but seemingly so real- the chandelier, instead of plummeting to the floors is slowly but steadily falling like the flipbook did not fully construct its drawings properly and the choppy fall of the chandelier is the result of it; he hears Teikoku shout but the rest of it is slurred and drunk, their table flipping over as glass shards fly across the restaurant, everyone else seemingly stuck in a choppy format, eyes widening in surprise, drinks being spilled, trays being thrown away by the sheer force of the explosion...

And then the spell breaks, as the chandelier plummets to the ground, light bulbs shattering and splaying all over the face. One even tries to impale him right over the eye, and he tries to dodge it, but it seems that his feet are glued to the floor, only watching it come closer, closer to his face to hit its target-

A hand yanks him back down behind a dining table, which has now been turned to a shield; nearby, he hears the sounds of guns clicking and people shrieking and screaming, the thudding of feet loud in his ears. He slowly turns to face Manchukuo, pursed lips and furrowed brows, as he readies his own gun for a battle.

"Stay here with Tokyo and Hokkaido, alright?", Manchukuo tells him, tight-lipped, "me and Teikoku will handle this mess." Koku nods absently, his gray eyes following Manchukuo's departing body from their hiding spot and into the mass of blood.

Koku is in a state of shock, unable to move nor get up from where he was hiding with his siblings. Instead of the air and wind supporting him in his every breath, they are puncturing his chest as his bones break apart to form splinters surrounding his heart but his ribs trying to shield the damned source of his life, beating the way his ears are now ringing a high melody. Koku chokes a little, feeling small particles of dust being absorbed into his throat, his lungs suffocating him whole. Koku tries to get up, but his legs feel like jelly, like they've been broken to tiny pieces. He breathes in and out, but he cannot inhale that fast and hard as his lungs start to fall apart underneath all this smoke and dust, hidden beneath gaps to conjure up a surprise attack reserved for him and only him.

So he follows his chaperone's word and stays with Hokkaido and Tokyo, both shell-shocked and trying to soothe Okinawa who is now shivering and shaking.

-

Manchukuo has been trained - blood and sweat - for this; it's pulsing in his veins, as he finally put all his hardwork for good work. He can feel a sense of relief once he can finally hold the smooth surface of a gun again, its shine rivalling the moonlight from outside, which had just risen to conquer the orange ball lighting up the entire day. He takes a look at it for a moment, admiring its handiwork, before filling it with bullets meant to target people, sinner or saint.

He sees his boss in the midst of the stampeding crowd, causing more chaos and difficulty rather than easiness. The crowd in front of him were like animals- one single event will conjure surprise, shock, panic and fear that will cause them to go hooting and making the situation even worse. Manchukuo then hears a group shouting in a spur of languages: Korean, Russian, Chinese; and he turns his head towards their direction, seeing them cock their pistols, ready to shoot at Teikoku and give themselves a well-earned pat on the back for a job well done.

Mancukuo swallows his nervousness away, his nervousness because he has grown accustomed to the ways of the mob, its deep, sick, and twisted insides that are all full of rot but he has no mind for this: Teikoku promises his children will be spared from his great wrath, if in turn he works for him.

He remembers that night clearly; there was a slight glimmer of malevolence in his eyes as he offers this deal to Manchukuo, all those years ago, but he thinks nothing of it, young and immature with nowhere to go, accepting the deal and taking Teikoku's hand, then training hard, to murder, to be a puppet, and ultimately becoming Teikoku's right-hand man in the scale of things, a blurred view of what is right and wrong.

(Every night, when he comes home to his children, barely old enough to understand the basics of the entire world and how it revolves around the sun, he thinks; thinks if he is doing the right thing, the right will, the best of the best to keep his children safely underneath his arms, to the end of his days.)

So, he takes another deep breath to make himself at peace that he is going to have to kill once again, before pulling the trigger, once, twice, thrice. All of them drop to the ground like flies once their monster pulls out a repellent that has murdered them all. Blood oozes from their bodies, but their murderer is now running towards his boss, who is shielding himself with a table, gunshots being heard and he tries his best to dodge them.

(For someone wearing glasses, he was a good shot- he'd use it to make people underestimate his prowess.)

"Sir, Soviet and his mob must have known of your plans for the day", Manchukuo pants, finally reaching Teikoku, veins in his hands pulsing, a glare set on his face as he peeks outside of their barrier before almost getting shot by a stray bullet.

"I know that", Teikoku replies, "the question is how to get rid of them."

Manchukuo looks back to dozens of men in black, holding out guns poised to shoot and kill in one motion, towards the sea of bodies surrounding him and Teikoku. The first option was to run like an idiot towards the perpetrators before getting shot or stomped to the death with heavy feet by the crowd. The second was to hide in the same spot, hoping and praying to the gods above that this entire operation will go down the ground, since they are, in this case, outnumbered, them finally becoming the prey.

"There are too many of them, sir", Manchukuo notes, "we don't have enough men to fully wipe out all of Soviet's men coming for our blood tonight."

"Are you underestimating my power?" Teikoku pulls his trigger and lets out a bullet, straight to one's head, but before he falls another bullet goes straight to his head to hit his comrade behind him, also dead. "Anata wa?"

Manchukuo blinks at the two corpses, whose lives had just been shot through the heart abruptly by Teikoku himself, the sun that even the plants wilt and dry up. He shakes his head, "Iie, Teikoku-sama."

(He learns the hard way never to cross even the slightest side-eye from him, his gray eyes showing the bespectacled boy a portal to the fiery pits of hell itself.)

Manchukuo inhales and exhales, relaxing himself as he aims the gun on two more violators and shooting them, straight through their head, their bodies falling like the plague has taken them one by one. And then he sees a spurring object, almost hurdling towards him before he sidesteps out of the way just in time. His glasses fall out to the floors, and he is overcome with panic as he drops to the floor, searching for his glasses while his vision swims like a river flowing right at him.

Then he hears the cock of a pistol, its metal clinking against its owner.

"Manchukuo", the newcomer greets, allegedly knowing his name; his voice was... familiar, except it was now in a lower tone of voice, no innocence left in him. "It's... nice to see you again."

Manchukuo feels the smooth and cold handles of his glasses, and he puts them on, blinking a little to satisfy himself of his clear vision. Then he sees him- the face on the missing posters he's hung up in his room to reminisce a time where everything was kept in their house, just a block away from where he is residing now. The old, abandoned house, grass overgrown and conquering the old white walls, untouched for decades, a ghost in time, but a ghost visible to his eyes nonetheless. The phantoms of the past loves to toy with him, as he walks by that same old house he has left all those years ago, to pursue a desperate way to get money, without his brothers by his side, and Teikoku had taken him in like a small cat stuck in the jaws of death, mangy and beaten.

"Renmin?", he asks, narrowing his eyes as he takes a step closer, but the other falls back. "Is that you?"

Renmin's eyes linger from the gun in his hand, and to Manchukuo's face, searching for a sign, with an unreadable look in his eyes. Manchukuo's lips curl to a small smile and a sad laugh resounds from deep within him, finally being released after years of anguish.

"It is you!", Manchukuo embraces the young man, Renmin struggling underneath his grip as his gun falls to the tiled floors, making a sharp sound from underneath the sounds of gunshots and the sight of crimson liquid everywhere. "How long has it been since we last saw each other? Two years? Three?"

"Ten years", Renmin deadpans, lips pursed to a thin line, eyeing the gun on the floors. "We haven't seen each other for ten years, and here we are."

Manchukuo's smile falters a little, but he keeps it glued to his face, overjoyed at the sight of his brother, obscured from the entirety of his life for a decade. "But... we finally see each other again. I would've preferred a much more decent setting", he looks at the broken and shattered glass windows, the once highly refined setting of this venue tumbling to ruins after just a day of its reign, a king succumbing to his land after just annexing the furthest of regions in his empire, "but we meet again nonetheless."

Renmin nods, breaking away from Manchukuo's arms, "So we have."

Manchukuo's mind was not on the corpses scattering to the floors, the foreign languages swirling around his head, making him dazed the longer he is with Renmin, the one that got away. Tears were forming in his eyes, a dam about to break to unleash a wave of unresolved emotions, trying to break out of the cold and frozen prison hidden behind his eyes to punish him for ever letting them dry up. He holds his brother's hand, smooth and warm underneath his rough and calloused palms, and he wonders; if his life with Soviet was smooth sailing, the seas calm in his grasps, the sky blue and the water clear. And his life was rough, always a stormy day and night, his boat rocking back and forth as the angry waves try devouring him deep into the waters like they are sirens luring their hypnotized prey only to be torn to shreds.

"We can escape this madness, you know?", Manchukuo says, voice breaking, clasping more onto his younger brother, his hands growing colder like death is overtaking him. "I can start the car. We can leave. Not without my kids though, I love them to bits, and you'll adore them. We can rent an apartment in another city, out of this shit we've dug into."

Renmin's eyes show no sign of comprehending his older brother's message, always empty, and then... it shines a little. His unreadable face turns to one of excitement (but it looks forced, for Manchukuo's part), the hands on Manchukuo's warming like its life had returned to it, hope rekindling from this life of misery. "That would be... lovely, Manchukuo. Away from everything we've ever known, and into the unknown. That's such a brilliant plan. Come here for a moment."

He pulls on Manchukuo's arm, and he follows, compliant. Before he can think clearly however, Renmin pushes him to the floors, pistol on his hand, a small smile tracing over his face, watching his brother below him widen his eyes in surprise before realizing how dire the situation is; Renmin aims the gun at Manchukuo and shoots- he misses his head, but he gets his thighs at the very least.

The bullet was like a small little button, just deadlier and thicker, his delicate skin being punctured by the cursed thing and blood comes spilling out. The pain was unbearable- a thousand needles cutting deep into his skin, trespassing to the deepest crevices of his soul as the blood gushes out towards his wool clothing, the dark hue of his pants clashing with the crimson red, pulsing in his veins, pooling into his clothes and absorbing it like a wet sponge after washing the dishes. His breathes are ragged, struggling to stabilize his condition as his heart beat increases faster, panic rising in him as he trembles and shakes; he has only ever felt the metal clad against his head whenever he speaks out too many times against Teikoku, but he has never been shot.

Until now, that is.

A thousand screams were trying to erupt from his mouth, mind and veins, pulsing too much, his fingers engraved deep into his palms, puncturing him ever so slightly, in the simplest of ways, blood dripping from his mouth due to biting too much.

"Dàgē", Renmin's voice was soft and dim, Manchukuo straining to hear his voice. "This is goodbye."

He does not lift his hand however, but Manchukuo sees it- a dot a distance away from them, growing increasingly nearer and before he has time to finally get ahold of his situation, everything goes black, the end of his act, the end of his play.

-

Renmin stares at the limp figure that used to be his brother, tuning out all sounds from anywhere else as he looks at those dark eyes- full of hope to have a new life, away from the mobs, away from Teikoku, away from this madness; now just a listless stare into the oblivion he is now falling through. He hears a cry from somewhere distant, but he pays no mind, kneeling down and closing his eyes, his face cold as death had come to him fast, the hole where the bullet went through dripping out blood, glasses askew. Renmin takes in a deep breath, sighing a little before he feels two arms wrap around him like a coat during the winter season. He feels a kiss on his cheek, and all of a sudden he grows warmer.

"Sulian...", he sighs as he kisses his lover on the lips, the larger chuckling as they deepen their kiss on enemy ground, the floors splattered with blood, all screaming in pandemonium. But Sulian was his heaven, a dream come true, and with him everything is serene. Sulian breaks their kiss however, uttering a needy whine from Renmin but he shushes him.

"Listen, lyubov". Renmin's ears stop clouding the drenches of his skull, then he hears it- blares of a police siren.

"Gāisǐ de", Renmin swears underneath his breath, already realizing how heavy their situation is right now. "Gather the men, get out of here before the goddamn police arrive." He finds another strapping young man eyeing Teikoku, eyes narrowed, hands relaxed on the gun, poised to kill. He sighs a little, "I'll take care of Inmin."

Renmin swerves and ignores the mangled bodies scattered about the floor, the gunshots never scaring nor hindering him as he makes his way towards his goal- the unhinged man by the kitchen door, his only remaining eye furious with passion and fiery vengeance on the one who ruined his life and made him plummet to where he is now. The blaring of the sirens were getting louder now, becoming a source of irritation in his ears.

"Inmin." The adolescent almost drops the pistol he was holding until he reflexively catches it with a hand. He glares at Renmin and stares back at his target. "We need to leave; the police are here."

"I don't care!", Inmin hisses, eyes still on Teikoku, murdering his way through the bodies, looking more like a deity punishing the mortals than a man himself. "I want to kill him. I want to torture him so that he can feel the pain he gave me."

"Now's not the time Inmin!", Renmin snipes, hands on Inmin's arms, pulling him back to the exit, comparable to a mother scolding and forcibly taking a child from a store of sweets. "The police are there and if they see you with a firearm they're going to handcuff you! We are not bailing you out!"

Inmin growls, trying to shake off the firm grip on his arm, "So what if I get stuck in a cold cell for the rest of my life?! At least I know what happened to my mother!"

"Your mother wouldn't like it if her dearest son sees you in a prisoner's outfit, would she?" He knows he should feel bad about threatening Inmin like this, but he'd done this to him most of the time; from doing housework chores, guilt tripping him, and to this. One word of his mother not being appreciative about his life, Inmin's whole confidence comes crashing down to a zero, just the way Soviet likes it.

Inmin's arm goes slack, and he lets Renmin drag him from the chance of finally getting the sweet vengeance he so desired ever since he was a child. Revenge was calling out to him, a voice seducing him to kill Teikoku before it is too late, trying to bribe him of a life of riches for one soul. One heartless and wretched soul, enough to rid the world of one person who doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as they do. He sees Teikoku smile, shooting as many people as he wishes, sometimes missing Inmin's comrades to shoot civilians, and sometimes he would aim perfectly at his comrades and shoot, one last drop of life disappearing from the world. And he was laughing; the bastard was laughing, enjoying what he has done, enjoying himself trampling all over the corpses.

The last thing Inmin sees before Renmin closes the door behind them was Teikoku's gray eyes on him, his lips in the form of a wide smile that sends shivers down his spine.

-

Inmin needed a peace of mind after the latest gathering from his mob. He takes a cigarette out from his coat's pocket, lighting it up, serving as the only source of light, the moon being covered by the clouds like a gray blanket hovering over the sky. His hair was flaked with sleet, and he shakes them off for the umpteenth time this night, sighing as he takes a load of the scenery outside of the cramped spaces he's been living in. Inmin sighs at how wondrous the buildings portray a scenic landscape in the night, the small glow of the stars trying to conjure and replicate the glow of the moon. The dim lights of each building shows silhouettes of family, friends, and couples doing something private, only for it to be broad casted by the lights inside of their home, and whatever they are doing.

Inmin did not get high of the feeling of a cigarette in his mouth, releasing a puff of smoke, watching it stretch across the sky like a wisp before it completely disappears. He wants the feeling of cannabis underneath his nose, enlightening him and making him feel like he has no problems at all, his sadness drowning away just from snorting the plant until he feels like he is happy enough to do his own thing, and then the spell wears out few hours later, leaving him weary and tired, cursing the effects.

(Of course, his comrades would decline him of his usual stash this night; he was thrashing about, swearing and making the newest members overwhelmed with his act.)

"Family...", then his only eye lights up, finally remembering what he has to do to finish the night off.

Repeating the address he promises never to step foot after they rejected his offer to help find their mother by looking for a mob that will aid them and their financial business. He remembers the shit he's said to them, as he steps on the dead cigarette stick as he runs from the edges of the city until he finds an apartment building.

He has seen the building change, all those years ago, becoming much refined, more appeasing to look, no more moldy walls and rotten would that is sure to make the whole place collapse with one slam of a door. Inmin walks towards it, steps light, not wanting anyone to be aware of his presence, of him going back to the home he deserted in search of someplace else. The eye underneath his eye patch was tingling, as if sensing he belongs here, to the family he has his eye on ever since leaving, ever since he has become an outlaw, a watcher in their lives leading and progressing on.

Inmin dips low as he watches Minguk through a window, book on his hands, and he focuses hard on the words on the large book his twin was holding, but all he can comprehend are words ever changing, flying out of the covers of the book and into the window, and he becomes disgruntled at the fact he can never do anything right, even read a goddamn title. Minguk's mouth was moving, perhaps reading and memorizing the passages in the book he was reading, coffee on the table.

Ah, Inmin looks at the dark circles underneath his brother's eyes, the way his fingers would twitch when he flips to another page. He's pulling an all-nighter again. Baegchi.

He looks through another window, seeing his samchon cooking something, a small smile on his lips, eyes closed as he lets his dream over take him, back to the days where everything was alright and dandy.

Inmin sighs- nothing has changed from the last week, his family still being poor ignorant souls while he is searching for their mother, their souls giving up on the probability she is alive and well.

So he runs, to the midst of the night, the sky camouflaging him as he runs back to his mob.

-

Dàgē- big brother in Chinese

lyubov'- love in Russian

Gāisǐ de- damn it in Chinese

Baegchi- idiot

Samchon- uncle

[galaxy-whiskers]

I was tagged by @bailandonorris, thanks!

1. what is the colour of your hair brush? 

I have a silver paddle brush which I don’t use very often, a transparent and purple swirly coloured (honestly don’t know how else to describe) afro comb, and a regular black comb.

2. name of a food you never eat? 

Tuna, can’t stand it. To be honest, I eat most things if they’re warm, but VERY fussy when it comes to cold food

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? 

Definitely too hot! I still have a fan on in the winter at night time

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? 

Playing Animal Crossing, tried to catch some tarantulas because Flick is on my island but the dodos don’t seem to want to send me to any decent islands so my mission was unsuccessful

5. what’s your favourite candy bar?

That’s a hard one... probably either Cadbury’s marvelous creations with the jelly beans and popping candy, darkmilk, or the one with oreos. Snickers are pretty great too, also Kinder Bueno and just Kinder chocolate in general. Basically, what I’m saying is I love chocolate

6. have you ever been to a professional sports event? 

Yes, I went to the London 2012 Olympics to watch show jumping, football and basketball! Have probably been to others? Really want to go to Wimbledon at some point but not sure when I’ll be able to do that. Does dog agility count as sport? Seen it at Crufts multiple times

7. what is the last thing you said out loud? 

‘Night night curly shoes’ - a goodnight wish for my sweet doggo Ivy

8. what is your favourite ice cream? 

I’m a fan of coconut ice cream it has to be said, also honeycomb, and your standard Ben and Jerry’s cookie dough is high up there. Really specifically, the vanilla ice cream from the waffle shop in Cirencester. To be honest, don’t eat much ice cream, not my go-to food choice because I’m lactose intolerant and a lot of it makes me feel sick just thinking about it. Has to be good!

9. what is the last thing you had to drink? 

Some water, absolute health right here (she says drinking her first glass of water all day after about 4 cans of Pepsi Max whoops)

10. do you like your wallet? 

I guess so, yes. Could probably do with a slightly more efficient one but it’s decent

11. what was the last thing you ate? 

A jazz apple from the fridge. We have no pink ladies which are the favourites but jazz are pretty tasty too

12. did you buy any new clothes last week? 

No, only virtual ones in Animal Crossing. I haven’t been clothes shopping in so long and doesn’t look like that will change anytime soon

13. last sporting event you watched? 

Honestly no idea, since all the sport has been cancelled for a while I can’t think what the last thing would have been. Probably Cheltenham races on the telly back in February or March or whenever it was?

14. what’s your favourite flavour of popcorn? 

The classic, salty cinema popcorn. Honestly the best

15. who was the last person you sent a message to? 

Strangely, someone from my secondary school who I haven’t ever spoken to over message before. She posted our leavers video on her Instagram and thought I’d message since I’d been looking for that video for  y e a r s  and sparked a conversation! She never liked me much back in school I don’t think, she was popular and I really wasn’t so I never properly spoke to her. One of my friends had a bit of drama with her, absolutely hated her, but they eventually became best pals. Also her best pal during most of school really didn’t like me for some reason... anyway, had a nice chat, strange how friendly she seems these days

16. ever go camping?

Uhh well... I’ve been 4 times, 2 of which were for D of E and I can safely say I’ve never had a good experience. First time, the people in the tent next to us got arrested at 3AM for drugs or something, second time was my dad’s 40th birthday and my brother didn’t know he was allergic to nuts so eating a cake with mixed nuts on the top didn’t go down well for him... also went to a restaurant on the way there with my granny and got a caterpillar in my salad. Third and fourth times, let’s just say D of E was one of the worst experiences of my life, I’ll leave it at that... would really like to go camping again though to have a good experience, maybe change my mind on it? I don’t know, willing to give it a try

17. do you take vitamins? 

I go through phases, sometimes I take them every day, other times I don’t take them for like 3 months

18. do you go to church every sunday? 

I used to, but as I got older I slowly went less and less until I didn’t go at all. I lost faith I guess? Kind of didn’t feel I belonged there or believed anymore. I loved singing the hymns and our vicar was an absolute lad, we also got biscuits at the end of each service, but over time I decided it wasn’t right for me to keep going. Pretty much all the people that go to ours are your typical white, posh, probably homophobic and hate children type so that put me off. Also after everything that’s happened in mine and other’s lives, I slowly lost the belief in God. If all of it was true, why would these things happen? I guess also my scientific mind was constantly telling me there’s no proof. I think the only reason I went to begin with was because it was a family thing and as a child I believed pretty much everything that was said

19. do you have a tan? 

No, certainly not... used to when I lived in the Caribbean but now I’m pretty much white as a sheet

20. do you prefer chinese food or pizza? 

A very difficult one... probably chinese? As much as I love pizza, it’s the same issue as the ice cream

21. do you drink soda with a straw? 

Nah not a fan of straws, they taste weird

22. what colour socks do you wear? 

ALL THE COLOURS! I own a pair of socks for every outfit to colour co-ordinate, my sock draw is overflowing

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? 

Strangely, I drive under by quite a bit when no one else is around. It’s the other cars that stress me out and make me go too fast. Also I have a black box so not allowed

24. what terrifies you? 

Good question, lots of things... the sea, pools, tbh water in general, heights, rejection, the current impending doom, large open spaces with no walls I can be against, losing everyone I love, the fact that anyone might be secretly talking about me behind my back because they actually hate me, the list goes on but I won’t continue it

25. look to your left what do you see? 

An empty Pepsi Max can, a glass of water, some crocodile scissors, my Switch, a cranberry scented candle, and some tiny balls of wool

26. what chore do you hate? 

Got to be changing my bed, or washing up when the things have got cold food left on them

27. what do you think of when you hear an australian accent? 

A throwback to year 8

28. what’s your favourite soda?

Pepsi Max

29. do you go into fast food places or drive thru? 

It depends who I’m with

30. who was the last person you talked to? 

My mum about a meteor shower and satellites

31. favourite cut of beef? 

A random question... I do like a good rump steak

32. last song you listened to? 

You Make My Dreams by Hall and Oates because I’m using it in my animation project

33. last book you read? 

I’m like part way through Good Omens and have been for quite some time... I have learning difficulties and find reading a lot of effort so don’t read very often

34. can you say the alphabet backwards? 

No, it’s the kind of thing I’d have expected myself to learn at some point but never did

35. how do you like your coffee? 

I don’t like coffee so in the bin

36. favourite pair of shoes? 

My multicoloured Vans, got them in the second week of uni and I’ve loved them ever since

37. the time you normally go to bed? 

Well, currently it’s around 1AM to go to bed, 3AM to sleep. Used to be around 12/1AM sleep but the lockdown has ruined that

38. the time you normally wake up? 

Again, currently it’s around 11:30AM to wake up then 12PM to do things but used to be around 9:30/10AM. To be honest I still sometimes wake up then but I go back to sleep again because I have no reason to exist more than I need

39. what do you prefer sunrise or sunsets? 

Sunrise is always nice to watch, but I don’t like getting up early so definitely sunset, especially when you’re at a restaurant or sitting outside somewhere in the countryside

40. how many blankets are on your bed? 

Just the one duvet, but I have a soft fish patterned blanket for when I want something to cuddle with

41. describe your kitchen plates? 

We have some plain white ones and some that are white with leaves around the edges. The edges have a ridged pattern and the rims are gold

42. do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage?

I don’t drink so no

43. do you play cards? 

Yes, love a good card game! 

44. what colour is your car? 

It’s very nice Caribbean sea blue. Used to be my mum’s car, it’s her favourite colour

45. can you change a tire? 

I probably could if I had to but can’t say I’ve done it before

46. your favourite province? 

I guess that’s counties? Hometown of Gloucestershire is up there, also a fan of Devon. My favourites may have to be Caenarfonshire and Anglesey though after the road trip last year

47. favourite job you’ve had?

Not sure really, I guess it would have to be doing my art commissions

48. how did you get your biggest scar?

The biggest scar I have these days is on my right knuckle between my index and middle finger, it’s very small. I got it from when I was holding a horse still before untacking and he decided that hay was more exciting, caught my hand on a splintered wooden fence and that was that

49. what did you do today that made someone happy? 

Nothing, I’ve only seen my family and even then it was for a short time. Don’t think I make anyone happy these days ahah

It’s now 3:22AM, that took longer than I expected. ‘I’ll go to sleep early today’ I said but I say that every day. Don’t know why I keep lying to myself. 

Anyway, I guess I have to tag someone now, so I tag @duckingpunches !

[jungnoir]

Honestly the milkshake prompt with jungkook sounds perfect! Thank you 😄

milkshake man;

jeon jungkook | 14. “One milkshake down.” ⇢ jungkook’s worst nightmare comes true: his child is lactose intolerant. dad!au. | 1.8k words. | fluff, humor.

a/n: you can consider this an epilogue to isn’t she lovely, but it does not need to be read to understand this!

Honestly, not that you did, but if you ever second guessed that your child with Jungkook was truly his, there was one thing that always diminished that doubt immediately: it was her absolute tendency to do everything perfectly and before anyone else.

You remembered her forming sentences at nearly nine months, walking before any of your friends’ babies did, and picking up everything her father taught her without difficulty. You had honestly wondered if Jungkook had some kind of genius baby making blood that would change the evolutionary game. Whatever it was, she was a lot like her father in every way and he was damn proud of it. There was only a tiny problem that neither of you had seen coming, and unfortunately, it had come eight chocolate milkshakes later.

It all started when Jungkook, out of all the new things he wanted to teach his advanced little girl, pulled out the milk carton.

“Jungkook…” Your voice trails off in an exasperated sigh, watching your husband grin at your six year old little girl who was currently sitting criss-cross applesauce on the kitchen floor. Your husband, nearly three times her size, sits opposite her with his legs splayed out on either side of her knees. In between them is a large carton of milk, and beside it is an equally large carton of chocolate ice cream. Your daughter licks her lips as Jungkook places a single, hot pink cup in the midst of it all.

Twirling the ice cream scooper in hand, Jungkook smirks at you from the floor, “I know what you’re going to say-” “I don’t care how smart our baby is, I’m not ready for her to start experimenting in the kitchen. I haven’t even introduced her to dying Easter eggs yet!” You try not to look at the two in worry; the mixture of the two loves of your life handling both a gallon of sticky liquid and sticky cream makes you mourn the bath water you’ll be preparing for the smallest of the two, probably very soon.

A pout forms on Jungkook’s face, followed by fluttering of eyelashes from not one Jeon, but two. Your daughter, Somin, has the exact some starry, puppy-dog eyes that her father possesses… as if to make matters worse.

The bigger Jeon frowns openly, “It’s just one milkshake.”

“Yes,” you stress the word just as much as he stressed “one”, “but you know what happens when she gets introduced to something new. She immediately tries to replicate it, and guess who has to clean up after her when she does?”

Somin reaches for the milk, chubby fingers attempting to take the carton from his hands. Jungkook tugs it away before she can even get close enough, “I will! I’m only showing her this once all the wonderful things milk can make. I promise we won’t make a mess. Nothing will go wrong.” Jungkook’s promise feels completely dependent on the complex, growing mind of your six year old and her level of determination to complete this new task after tasting the end result. You really did not like leaving things up to a child whose loyalty to you shifted everyday before bed time.

You watch him focus his attention on the cup instead as he begins to scoop some ice cream from its carton, dropping three full scoops into the cup before pouring the milk over it. He takes a spare spoon and starts stirring, the little girl before him watching with all eyes and ears focused on him. You realize there’s not much you can do now; she knows the three things she needs to make those milkshakes, and now she’s going to think about it on repeat until she gets the chance to make it again. You can already see the mess, but you leave the kitchen before you fall into another fit.

If you were lucky, this would only stop at one milkshake.

Jungkook comes home the next day to a quiet house. That is the first sign something is not quite right, but he tries to ignore the feeling in hopes that it was just his overactive imagination.

It wasn’t, unfortunately, when he hears a cry that he is all too familiar with.

Jungkook moves with a speed he was unaware he possessed in the direction of Somin’s bedroom, just barely knocking into the door frame to get inside. He can see you sitting on the edge of Somin’s bed while the child in question is curled up under her covers, whining softly, painfully. Jungkook’s heart tugs as he walks over, whispering to you, “What happened? Is she sick?”

You look up at him with a pitiful look, right before pushing yourself up from the bed and walking over to him. You can see the small wrinkles in his brow that had begun to form over the years and you attempt to smooth them out with your fingertips. His tense body doesn’t relax, but he does wrap an arm around you in lieu of fidgeting with his fingers.

After you’ve finished brushing his hair from his eyes, you sigh, “Got some bad news about baby Jeon today,” you say, and Jungkook’s mind is swimming with all the possibilities, “she is… lactose intolerant.”

Jungkook blinks. Then, “…excuse me?”

You snicker, watching him trying to process the information with (only slight) amusement, “Yeah, apparently children can develop an intolerance to dairy once they’ve passed two years old, and, well… she has.”

Jungkook frowns, then pouts, then drops his head on your shoulder in defeat, “How could this happen? We did everything right…”

“Jungook, she won’t die. We’ve just got to buy soy milk from now on and cut back on all the dairy. The worst she gets is a little gas, but this means you two can’t have milk drinking competitions anymore.” “If I can’t take my kid on banana milk dates with me anymore,  what can we do?” “Normal things that other children and their fathers do?” You offer, yelping when Jungkook playfully nips at the skin of your neck in retaliation.

He pulls back and you can see the light disappointment in his eyes, but relative relief at the fact that it’s nothing too serious. A little discomfort, maybe, but she would be feeling better in a few hours.

“That’s… not the worst of it, though.” You pull away and pat his chest, the confusion arising in his expression when you begin to exit Somin’s room. He follows after you, down the hall, the stairs, and right toward the kitchen. Before he even passes the threshold, he suddenly gets a bad feeling.

“Oh no…” Jungook sees the kitchen floor lined with nearly ten milkshakes, all varying amounts and textures. All, very clearly, made by one little girl upstairs. “How did she even get her hands on everything?”

“A stool and determination,” you fold your arms with an “I told you so” look on your face, “she waited until I went to water the plants, and I think I recall a certain husband of mine saying he would clean up if any messes took place.”

Ah. He did say he would do that, didn’t he?

Slowly, Jungkook kneels to the floor and collects the first cup, inspecting for anything that a six year old might have inserted that could be potentially dangerous. A sip later, he throws it all back in three big gulps.

Your jaw drops, “J-” “One milkshake down,” his tone sounds incredibly stressed, but that familiar challenge in his eyes says that he is not to be moved. If it took five cups of ramen to make him full, eight milkshakes were nothing, “seven to go.”

“Why don’t you just throw them away…?” Your voice takes on a slightly whiny tone. One thing you hoped Somin never got from her father was his intense stubbornness and need to push his physical limits. You could see him already bragging to the boys about how he had consumed more milk and ice cream in less than an hour than any of them had consumed in a week.

“This is more than a third of a carton’s worth of milk and probably all the chocolate ice cream we had in this house. I am not letting this go to waste.” “And I’m not taking care of you when you get a stomachache too.”

He says nothing in response to you, simply grabbing the next cup and depositing the other into the sink for the dishes he would inevitably be cleaning by himself later on. Quietly, to yourself, you mutter a few choice words that you hope Jungkook can sense the irritation in and plop down onto the kitchen floor. You grab the cup nearest you and start chugging, caution thrown to the wind. You probably wouldn’t be able to stomach as much as your husband, but you weren’t letting him suffer alone.

Jungkook smiles over the rim of his fourth cup, electing to stay silent until you two finally met in the middle. He’d drank more than half of the lot but had nothing to show for it besides a guttural burp. You, on the other hand, already felt more than a little full. Your eyelashes fluttered shut as you attempt to collect yourself, the want to fall on the floor and explode becoming awfully tempting.

“You didn’t have to help me, you know.” He says teasingly but gently, pushing himself up from the floor and moving behind you. Carefully, as Jungkook always was with you and Somin, he cradles you into his arms and begins to walk you upstairs to your bedroom.

You let him lay you down on the sheets and he brushes your hair from your eyes, chuckling when you open them just to glare, “Dummy… I wasn’t gonna let you suffer alone. You were right after all, milk costs a pretty penny in this economy.”

“Is this what marriage is?” He asks, kneeling on the floor beside the bed to be eye level with you. You roll onto your side and exhale something that sounds like a laugh… or maybe a groan, “Drinking eight milkshakes that our daughter impulse-made on the kitchen floor because we can’t handle throwing it all away?”

“I guess it is.” You hum, right as he comes in for a kiss. His lips and yours are still a little sticky from the milkshakes, but you don’t mind so much when his hand comes to rub at your tummy in comfort.

Jungkook hears Somin call for him from down the hall and rises to his feet, checking over you once more before starting his trek down the hallway, “Next time Somin makes too much of something, let’s just invite the boys over to eat it all.” “Or pray that there never is a next time.”

[classywastelandbread-blog]

Eden Sank to Grief

I should be doing other things but instead I jotted this down today. I’m sorry if there are any errors. 

Featuring: DC being depressing, Hanahaki, and a brief cameo from one of my NaNoWriMo characters.

EDIT: finally thought of a somewhat-suitable title.

It started, the way all large things started, by something very small.

A tickle in his throat, a slight hitch in his breath; nothing a short cough couldn’t fix. But Hanzo didn’t think much of it – the fog off the sea had been particularly heavy lately and a cold was traveling like wildfire through the agents. He coughed once, accepted a mug of hot tea and a glass of orange juice from McCree with a nod of thanks, and thought – for the tiniest fraction of a second – about getting vitamin C supplements so he wouldn’t get sick.But he didn’t want to deal with Dr. Ziegler so he didn’t.

McCree smiled at him at breakfast and nudged him with an elbow during a particularly bad joke that Reinhardt told. Hanzo laughed because McCree was beaming at him with that grin of his that was as bright as the sun and something – a something that was becoming very familiar to Hanzo – fluttered like a living thing in his throat.

The next day he woke with a tickle in his throat and he drank twice as much water as he normally did though he couldn’t quite tell if it was because he didn’t want to get sick or because he imagined he saw McCree’s eyes fall and linger on the bob of his throat as he drank. He still coughed occasionally but they were mostly dry coughs and he teased the cowboy that it was because of the lingering smell of dust and smoke on him.

His dry cough lingered for a few days before turning wet. Genji joked that his brother had finally succumbed to the plague afflicting the rest of the agents that were able to get sick.

Genji, of course, was not on that list.

Dr. Ziegler ordered him into her office and with great reluctance, he went. She checked him over briskly and announced that he only seemed to have a minor cold – he should drink plenty of fluids that weren’t alcohol – water, Agent Hanzo, I’m talking about water – and to get a lot of sleep.

When he confided this to McCree, he was offered one of those odd smiles of the gunslinger’s – alone with Hanzo he often smiled as if his face had been frozen into that odd half-frown he wore as he chewed on the end of his cigarillos. Hanzo turned his head away to cough and McCree offered one end of his stupid blanket and Hanzo wasn’t so proud – or such a fool – to turn away.

“It’s gettin’ cold out,” McCree said mildly as he kicked his legs into the open air beneath them. “Bein’ sick an’ all, maybe you should be goin’ inside? Getting’ some o’ that rest Ange prescribed?”

Hanzo felt another cough building in his throat and swallowed quickly to push it back down. “Just a little longer,” he said. He didn’t tell McCree that it wasn’t the cold or his illness that he was talking about; that he was really speaking of the warm weight of McCree’s arm around his shoulders, of the cedar scent that clung so close to McCree and the neutral smell of detergent still clinging to the gunslinger’s serape.

“Okay,” McCree said agreeably. “Fine by me.”

The cough didn’t get better; it seemed to get worse. Dr. Ziegler gave him a disgusting cough syrup that he had to drink twice a day.

He realized what was wrong late one night after spending the evening drinking with McCree. The cowboy was a melancholy drunk, but he always seemed rather melancholy around Hanzo. He smiled and talked less and his eyes seemed less vibrant. When Hanzo had asked about it between their usual teasing jabs, McCree had only offered him that odd smile he seemed to reserve for Hanzo and said, “Well that’s ‘cos I’m comfortable ‘round ya. Like I can just be, y’know?”

The something fluttered in his throat more insistently like a wild bird trying to escape its cage. The ever-present tickle in his throat rose but he only allowed himself to cough twice – no more, he didn’t want to interrupt the time he had with McCree by coughing – and turned to look at McCree again.

McCree’s face seemed, as he had noticed before, halfway frozen into a scowl but his eyes seemed more relaxed and the corners of his mouth weren’t as pulled down or up as Hanzo had witnessed before. He seemed relaxed, Hanzo realized. Relaxed with him, an ex-yakuza princeling that had attempted to kill his own brother. With an alcoholic and a killer, a former assassin-for-hire with enough blood on his hands to drown a person.

The silver moonlight highlighted the bends in his twice-broken nose from a bad night and a bruiser in a bar brawl. Say that ten times fast, Shimada-san, McCree had once told him as he fingered the bridge of his nose. He had offered a smile that looked like he had only been going through the motions: the corners of his lips pulled back and up, his teeth peeking out like a person reluctantly smiling for the camera.

“It’s gettin’ late,” McCree said, eyeing the bottle in front of him. “An’ I know y’ need your rest.” He nudged Hanzo gently. “This ain’t the fluids Ange was talkin’ ‘bout ya drinkin’.”

Hanzo laughed, drunk no matter how much he wanted to deny it. Even McCree smiled that odd smile of his and the flutter rose in his throat. It hurt to close his throat against another cough and he nearly choked on it when it came up anyway. Two coughs – no more, even though he and McCree were getting ready to leave – and he groaned, washing down the phlegm and the bitter taste that had come up with another sip of sake.

“Yeah,” McCree said as he heaved himself to his feet. “Time fer bed, Han.” He paused, cocking his head to the side not unlike the dog Hanzo sometimes called him. “Sorry…is that okay?”

Perhaps a little dumbly (okay, a lot dumbly) Hanzo stared up at McCree. Backlit against the full moon behind him he looked like a cowboy out of a trashy romance novel, his face hidden by shadow with his gloved hand extended to help Hanzo up.

Hanzo accepted the help and released his hand before he could fall into McCree’s chest. “Perhaps for you,” Hanzo’s drunken lips said before he could stop them. “I could make an exception.”

“Mighty kind o’ you,” McCree said with all the solemnity it deserved. “An’ what about Hanners?”

Unable to help himself, Hanzo smiled and then laughed again. It was silly – absolutely ridiculous – and yet it sounded right somehow in the gunslinger’s whiskey voice. “Definitely only for you,” Hanzo said and bumped into McCree’s shoulders as they walked back to the living quarters of the base.

“I shall savor it, then,” McCree said as solemnly as he had earlier. His peculiar smile was back but Hanzo had long since gotten used to it and relished the thought that (at least according to McCree) he was the only one to see it.

But McCree didn’t lie if he could help it and he had said this to Hanzo sober, with all the seriousness of a lover’s secret confession.

Ever the gentleman, McCree walked Hanzo back to his room and waited for him to fumble with the keypad. When Hanzo turned back around, he found that McCree had taken off his thick glove. The gunslinger tapped his nose with a finger that smelled like leather. “Goodnight, Hanners.”

That peculiar smile was back and Hanzo basked in it for a moment. He could feel something clawing up his throat. “Goodnight, Jesse McCree,” he said.

McCree cocked his head to the side like a curious dog. “I could get used to hearin’ that.”

“Only for you,” Hanzo’s drunk lips said. He blushed but didn’t take it back.

Taking a step back, McCree nodded. “I look forward to it,” he said mildly. With a last lingering look, he walked down the hall to his room and Hanzo closed and locked the door.

When he was sure that McCree was no longer in earshot, Hanzo allowed himself to cough.

And cough.

And cough.

It was the most annoying kind of cough, Hanzo mused to himself as he groped for a paper towel, a tissue, anything. He could feel it, somewhere just above his collarbones, and the coughing was beginning to hurt – had been hurting as he tore up his throat. For the love of him though, he couldn’t get the stubborn thing out.

His coughing upset his stomach and he ran to the attached bathroom and bracing his hands on the toilet seat, heaved up some of the alcohol he had just consumed. The bile burned his sore throat and he coughed even more when some of it managed to get caught in his nostrils.

For a long moment he lay there, leaning against the toilet while he caught his breath. The air burned his throat even more but until he could blow his nose, breathing through his nose was intolerable and would most likely throw him into another coughing fit.

It was as he was pushing himself to his feet and reaching to flush the toilet that he noticed the petal in the water. As if mocking him it bobbed and scoffing at his own folly, Hanzo watched it swirl down the drain. He blew his nose and washed his face and mouth.

He brushed his teeth and wondered and scoffed to himself again.

Hanahaki.

He knew the word, of course – everyone did. It was a popular trope in trashy romance novels and daylight soap operas. Coughing up flowers for unrequited love. There were three options, three possible ways to…stop it: cut it out, let it kill you, or confess.

Cutting it out was the easy thing. It wasn’t common, but not as uncommon as one may think; truly about as common as voluntary sterilization surgery. In a way that’s exactly what it was but instead of preventing reproduction, it prevented feeling. As if cutting out the roots and stem and flowers removed the portion of a person’s soul that allowed them to feel.

Hanzo had known an Empty One growing up in the Shimada Clan. She was his guard, one of if not the best fighters they had to offer until her untimely death. As a young child he hadn’t understood why they called her The Empty One (as if she were the only one the Shimada-gumi had employed, voluntary or otherwise) so he called her Emmy, thinking that the loan word had somehow been her name. She was kind and polite enough but she didn’t smile or laugh and her voice was as hollow as an echo in an empty cave.

The second was self-explanatory, but Hanahaki deaths were still surprisingly rare. Most people chose the third option, chose to confess, rather than die. Few chose death because living, even in constant agony or without feeling, was preferable to the slow strangling death of the clenching roots of Hanahaki filling their lungs.

As for the last, in a way that was as debilitating as cutting out the Hanahaki. There was a reason that it had manifested after all. Many postulated that it was psychosomatic – that in a way the deadly roots and flowers formed out of a perceived rejection – but most still believed, even in the depths of their animal hind-brains that it was some kind of divine punishment, a deadly manifestation of their destiny.

It was the most popular option: for those that needed to pay for it, the surgery was expensive and required high-tech equipment and specialists used to doing such delicate work and few truly wanted to die by Hanahaki.

On the other hand, Hanahaki-related suicides were rather high.

Still, even the mere act of confession brought about its own kind of consequence. Like cutting out the roots, there was something damaged about those who had Hanahaki wither in their lungs – and wither it did in all of the cases Hanzo had heard of. They wheezed, perpetually asthmatic in some form, and their interpersonal relationships suffered.

In many ways they were nearly as unfeeling as the Empty Ones.

Hanzo didn’t believe in happily-ever-afters, especially for men like him. He most certainly didn’t believe in love at first sight, either or the kind of love that would inspire Hanahaki.

He probably wouldn’t even believe in Hanahaki if it hadn’t been for Emmy and even then he could probably chalk that up to an overactive imagination as a child.

Except that he could, even after over a decade since her death, remember the blank look in her eyes and the neutral set in her face that had never changed. “I do not feel, young master,” she had reminded him more than once. “No emotion, no pain; nothing.”

But…Hanahaki. It was simply a far-fetched idea.

But where did that petal come from? The logical side of him asked.

Shaking his head to himself, he got ready for bed.

The next morning, the cough was worse. He had to turn away and cough into his napkin when Jesse leaned over to pour him a cup of orange juice as he always did. This time he could feel something crawling up his throat as he coughed. It was sticky, clinging to the tissues and hiding among the mucous.

He worked his mouth and tongue and felt something resting there. McCree wordlessly handed him a glass of water and trying to ignore the tickle in his throat heralding more coughs, Hanzo swallowed half of it quickly, washing the…intrusion away. Rolling his tongue around his mouth, he made sure that there was nothing in his mouth before speaking. “Thank you,” he said to Jesse.

“Anytime,” McCree murmured back as he sat down to eat.

Hanzo choked on a cough and took another long sip of water. He caught sight of McCree looking at him, his bristly brows pinched with something like worry. Pushing himself to his feet, he somehow managed to excuse himself and ducked into the nearest communal bathroom.

Locked safely inside a stall, he shoved a wad of toilet paper beneath his lips and released the sticky wad that had been hacked up.

Petals.

It was an explosion of color – bright hues of yellow and bronze and orange – though all of the petals were folded over and clung to the paper with the mucous that brought it up. For a long moment he simply sat and stared.

Hanahaki.

A few still clung stubbornly to his palate and tongue and with shaking fingers he picked them off, wiping his fingers off on the napkin that was slowly deflating as it got wet.

He was scared, of course – who wouldn’t be, faced with a choice like this?

Confess and risk emotional maiming – and the ruin of a relationship; cut it out and be unable to feel – and ruin his new relationship with his brother; or let it kill him – and be a coward, and let down his team.

And let down McCree.

He sank to his knees and puked again in a way he hadn’t in a long time. More petals fell from his lips, drooped down to the water in the bowl on thick strings of saliva and bile. He puked until there was nothing else, not even bile, for him to bring up and pretended that the tears in his eyes were from something other than fear.

Shaking, he picked out the petals he could still feel clinging to the sides and top of his mouth and threw them into the bowl with the rest where they floated and spun as if mocking him. He wiped the dampness from his mouth with the back of his hand and watched as the petals swirled down the drain and disappeared.

When he opened the door to the stall, he found McCree standing by the sink, his hat held against his chest. His face was still pinched with worry and his whiskey-colored eyes, as sharp as a falcon’s, drifted over Hanzo as seriously as he would casing a room. Hanzo knew that he picked up on his damp, red eyes and the messy way his lashes clumped.

“Are…you okay?” he asked in a strangely halting way. His other hand came up and both toyed with the belt around his hat. Once upon a time it had been a simple sash: a faded ribbon that had once been blue, had once been one of the wrappings around the bow Hanzo used as an adolescent. He still had it, he had once told Hanzo, only it was too tattered now for everyday use; too precious to risk.

“No,” Hanzo decided. “I am not.”

McCree nodded a little robotically. He licked his lips and held his mouth halfway open as he decided what to say. In another life, Hanzo had teased him about it – close your mouth cowboy, or do you want to be catching flies? – but now it was another twist of the knife in his chest.

The feeling in his throat – the Hanahaki, he knew now – rose like a wave, like a crescendo, and stopped his breathing for a terrifying moment.

“Should…mebbe…you should see Ange?” McCree asked haltingly. His eyes, cold as stone and burning as a mouthful of that swill the cowboy called alcohol, roved over his face as intently as he would when sniffing out lies on a foreign operative.

Hanzo swallowed another round of coughs, moving to the sink. He washed his shaking hands, then splashed water on his face, then rinsed out his mouth and prayed that no petals would escape his throat to bob in the water.

He didn’t want McCree to see it, he realized. It was a terrifying thought, a terrible thought but it was relieving all the same; it opened his path before him. I don’t want him to see me suffer like this.

“Yeah,” he said to his reflection. At the edge of the mirror, he could see McCree watching him with that same hard stare he gave a particularly vexing enemy. He let his eyes roam McCree openly, uncaring that his friend saw. At this point this may be the last time he gets to see him like this, with...emotions, with...feeling even if they were going to strangle him. “I will.”

Dr. Ziegler was displeased, having heard of that morning’s coughing fit. Hanzo made sure to make it up to her by bringing breakfast in. She ate while they talked and Hanzo couldn’t find it in him to be upset that she was so rude.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Ziegler said contritely more than once.

Hanzo couldn’t find anything to say so he said nothing.

“It must be important if you’re coming to me of your own free will,” she joked but maybe she saw something in Hanzo’s eyes because her tone fell flat.

Very carefully Hanzo placed the packet on her desk. McCree had walked him back to his room, unaware of the agony he was causing. “Be well,” McCree had said awkwardly as Hanzo moved to enter. “Please?”

Hanzo regretted not answering, of not saying anything back, but he had a mouthful of petals that would have given everything away and the worry on McCree’s face would have changed to pity. Instead he nodded and closed the door.

The mouthful of petals went to the sink and he coughed up even more until he puked – again, annoyingly, even though there was nothing else in his stomach to bring up. Just foamy bile and even more petals. He rinsed what was in the sink and dried them on a paper towel to take as evidence – not that Dr. Ziegler couldn’t run a scan, but there was something about seeing the colors that did something to him, wound him up and broke him down all at once.

Dr. Ziegler shoved the last few pieces of her meal in her mouth, ran to wash her hands and put her plate on the side, and returned with sterile gloves on her hands.

Suddenly scared, Hanzo stopped her before she could touch the packet. “How far does your confidentiality go?”

The look she gave him told him exactly what she thought about his question. Still she said with a little trace of bite, “As far as you would like me to go.”

“They can and will know that I visited you,” Hanzo said after a moment. “But nothing more.”

She nodded once and when he made no other move to stop her, opened the little packet. He watched her eyes widen and she sighed. “Oh, Hanzo.” Her eyes flashed up to him. “How long? Who is it?”

Hanzo thought of McCree’s warm smiles and how his arm felt around his shoulders. Of his whiskey eyes and the half hearted smile that only he got to see.

He opened his mouth to speak and stopped.

He thought of late nights drinking, smoking, just sitting with Jesse up somewhere high. He thought of movie nights where they hid together in a corner and how they always sat together at breakfast. He thought of McCree’s odd half-there smile and the tired creases of his eyes and the dusting of freckles across his dark skin. He thought of whiskey eyes and long lashes, of the smell of cedar and leather and the distant memory of two people in a past life sharing a secret kiss beneath the boughs of the sakura trees in bloom.

Dr. Ziegler leaped to her feet when he began coughing again.

“Are you afraid?” Lúcio asked.

Hanzo lolled his head to the side, careful of the mask on his face.

“Yeah,” Lúcio said with a nervous laugh. “Maybe that’s the wrong question to ask at the wrong time.”

“Maybe,” Hanzo said distantly, his voice rough from days of coughing. The Hanahaki got worse exponentially and Dr. Ziegler called in favors to do the surgery before it became inoperable. “I don’t feel much of anything anymore.”

Lúcio laughed a little hollowly. “That’s the drugs talking.”

“I’m scared,” Hanzo found himself admitting to Lúcio. “And I’m angry that my last...my last emotion will be fear and anger.”

He was surprised when Lúcio leaned forward suddenly and squeezed Hanzo’s wrist. “Hey,” he said. “No need for that. Let’s think of something nicer.”

“I’m afraid of thinking...of coughing again,” Hanzo admitted and it wasn’t a part of the drugs. He knew that Lúcio would keep this talk confidential, wouldn’t hold it against him. “I’m afraid to...I’m afraid to think of him and have my last thoughts and feelings of him be something I’m afraid of.”

Lúcio scooted his rolling stool closer, boldly, and Hanzo flinched when he wiped away a tear he didn’t know he had shed. “Hey,” he said softly. “You know, you don’t have to tell me who it is - not now, not ever - but I’m all ears.” He laughed, a little hollowly. “You’re not alone, you know?”

For a long moment Hanzo stared.

“You’re on a team,” Lúcio reminded him gently with a look that was far more serious than what Hanzo was used to seeing on his young face. “And teammates help each other - friends help each other. We’ll be there for you through thick and thin. Sure we’ll all fight and butt heads, we’ll argue and make messes and some nights we’ll stay up late and wonder...we’ll think of the mistakes we made or the mistakes we will make or the injuries and the deaths and the blood…” Lúcio swallowed hard and squeezed Hanzo’s wrist comfortingly.

“I’m sad,” Hanzo croaked. “That I...I will be hollow. And I am just realizing...”

Another tear cut a hot track down his face and Lúcio smiled sadly. “It’s a shame,” he agreed. “But it won’t make us love you any less.” He scooted closer and wiped the tear away. Looking over Hanzo’s chest where he couldn’t see and checked Hanzo’s vitals. He wasn’t an anesthetist by any stretch of the word, he had explained to Hanzo with a crooked smile during the briefing for his procedure, but he could read a monitor, thank you very much. “Now,” he said. “You don’t want your last emotion to be sad, to be angry, and you are sedated just enough that we’ll put you under soon. What do you want to talk about?”

Hanzo blinked dopily, hating how loose and weak he felt. Now that Lúcio mentioned it, he felt as if he was about to float away. His head lolled and the mask slipped a little; with gentle hands, Lúcio adjusted it and squeezed his limp fingers.

“What if I cough?” he asked.

Lúcio smiled sadly and squeezed his fingers again. “Your muscles are relaxed enough that the Hanahaki won’t be acting up and soon we’ll be putting in your IV. Don’t worry; we’ve got you.”

The smile that Hanzo gave him was eerie, far too loose with the drugs in his system but Lúcio still savored it because it was probably the last one he would ever give. “I have a family,” he said, his voice lighter than it should have been as his eyes began to droop. Unnoticed by the former assassin, Angela had slipped in and was beginning to increase his dosage to put him under. “I have a brother and a team that cares about me. What do I have to repay them? I will just be empty.” Hanzo smiled again, this time wider. His eyes fluttered. “And I am...I am in love with Jesse McCree.”

When Hanzo woke up, his head spun. “Be still,” someone said next to him. A metallic hand gently pressed on his shoulder. “I will get you some water.”

He opened his eyes as Zenyatta returned and with the monk’s help, managed to take a long drink.

“How are you feeling?” Zenyatta asked.

Hanzo paused to think and...there was nothing. There was no fear, no pain, anger, guilt, or...there was no love but there was also no guilt for its lack. Instead he said, “I am not, is that not the point?”

He wondered if Zenyatta would smile if he could. Would it be sad? Was he happy? It was hard to tell.

It was hard for Hanzo to grasp why he should care.

“Are you up for a few visitors?” Zenyatta asked and Hanzo couldn’t divine from his even tone his thoughts.

Hanzo paused to consider. He felt no shame, no remorse; if he felt anything, it was a sensation like the first few seconds of freefall. Was that how the rest of his life would be? “That would be acceptable.” He looked around. “Where is Dr. Ziegler?”

Halfway to the door, Zenyatta paused as if weighing his words. “She is working on a personal project.” When he received Hanzo’s nod, he opened the door and the team spilled in.

Genji led the charge. Voices overlapped, there was yelling, crying, everyone talking at once. They asked a hundred questions and Genji tried to lecture him but Hanzo only felt…

Nothing.

He watched his team and clung to those last few moments of grainy memory he had of speaking with Lúcio. Genji kept yelling - he’d never forgive Hanzo, he swore, how could he just go and cut out his heart like that?

In the very back of the pack, nearly hidden by everyone else stood a cowboy - the one that started it all and yet Hanzo knew that even if he could feel anything anymore, annoyance would be the furthest thing from his mind with this man. The fluorescent lights of the medical room illuminated his face because his hat was pressed to his heart. In one hand was a dusty blue ribbon, tattered and worn and frayed at the edges.

McCree stared back at him with a terrifyingly blank look on his face - a look like the one he wore during Deadeye. Seeing Hanzo looking at him, he offered that sort of half smile that Hanzo knew in the depths of the empty void that once held his heart was only for him.

He waited to feel something - the hummingbird beat of his heart in his throat, the rush of warmth that washed over him like a wave, like a shot of whiskey. It was so ingrained now, to see McCree - to see Jesse - and feel that warmth.

But he looked at Jesse, at the way the fluorescent lights turned his auburn hair into a hundred shades of gold and orange and bronze, at the odd shadows in his twice-broken nose, at a hundred things that had driven him to deadly love...and felt nothing.

I may do a Part 2 from McCree’s point of view but I haven’t decided yet.

[justanothercinemaniac]

Epic Movie (Re)Watch #167 - X-Men (2000)

(GIF source unknown [if this is your GIF please let me know].)

Spoilers Below

Have I seen it before: Yes

Did I like it then: Yes.

Do I remember it: Yes.

Did I see it in theaters: No.

Format: Blu-ray

1) Xavier’s opening monologue is not only a great way to set up this individual film, but the now-17-year-old franchise which followed.

Prof. X: “Mutation: it is the key to our evolution. It has enabled us to evolve from a single-celled organism into the dominant species on the planet. This process is slow, and normally taking thousands and thousands of years. But every few hundred millennia, evolution leaps forward.”

2) The very first scene in this film is young Magneto in a Polish concentration camp and I have to say it works absolutely fantastically.

For one thing it creates immediate sympathy for what is essentially the villain of the peace, but more than that it sets the tone for the entire series. Not just the dark tone but the idea that mutants are representative of the oppressed. When the comics were first released in the 60s the parallels were between the Civil Rights Movement, nowadays you can see parallels with the gay community and islamophobia. That is because oppression, intolerance, and bigotry are essentially the same no matter who it is directed at.

3) The introduction to Anna Paquin’s Rogue continues to set the dark tone of the film, as well as Rogue’s key conflict in a simple and understandable way.

4) The government hearing.

The hatred, fear, and oppression seen in this scene should not be as relevant in 2017 as it is. Senator Kelly’s arguments about, “Well we do license people to drive,” is based on fear and fear alone. He is scared but justifies his fear by making other people afraid. Asking a human being to register for being different is undeniably unconstitutional. And the filmmakers are aware that America has seen this play out before.

Senator Kelly: “I have here a list of names of identified mutants...”

Senator Joseph McCarthy [an actual historical figure who instigated the Red Scare in the 1950s]: “I have here in my hand a list of 205—a list of names that were made known to the Secretary of State as being members of the Communist Party”

Good, just wait until I do my recap for Good Night, and Good Luck. I’ll have some things to say about Joseph fucking McCarthy then.

5) The relationship between Charles and Erik is - like all the best elements in this film - clearly established from their introduction to the audience.

Erik: “I’ve heard these arguments before.”

We understand that they’re friends, we understand that they both think they have the best interests of their people (mutants) at heart, but most painfully we understand exactly WHY they both go about their revolution through different methods. It is a relationship which will remain consistent and interesting throughout the series.

6) Ian McKellen as Magneto.

(GIF originally posted by @marveladdicts)

There are a number of standout casting decisions made in this film which will stay strong even in the weaker entires of this series, and Ian McKellen is definitely one of them. Unless you’re The Joker, a good villain does not see himself as the villain. Magneto does nothing out of cruelty or malice, he does so for one clear end goal: the superiority of mutant kind. You understand why he goes to drastic measures, even if you don’t agree with him. McKellen is able to consistently make Erik human. The sadness, the determination, the focus, everything that makes this character amazing in the comics, McKellen carries onscreen. A truly brilliant choice which will give us many great scenes to come.

7) Anna Paquin as Rogue.

Rogue is markedly more different than she is in the comics, but I don’t have as much of an issue with that as others do (at least, not in this film). She’s a bit more timid, a bit more scared, which is very human of her and helps the audience sympathize with her. Paquin plays the part remarkably well, carrying Rogue’s pain and conflict well in her performance.

8) Hugh Jackman as Wolverine.

Hugh Jackman is the standout element of this film and one of the most perfect examples of comic book casting in the history of cinema. The guy played the part for SEVENTEEN years. Even in weaker X-Men films Jackman’s Wolverine is remarkably consistent. He IS Wolverine. The aggression, the ferocity, the isolation, the pain, the instinct, Jackman captures it all beautifully. But more than that, we explore who Wolverine becomes when we throw him together with other people. We see who he becomes just as he learns who he becomes when he has other mutants relying on him. It’s a remarkable journey to see him not only go through this film but all seventeen years of playing this character. You are not watching Hugh Jackman, this is not a performance. This is Wolverine. Living, breathing, pure, Wolverine. And whatever shortcomings the X-Men series has had throughout its years, Jackman’s Wolverine has always been perfect.

9) This line always stuck with me.

(GIF originally posted by @filmeslut)

This relates very well to the pain Wolverine deals with everyday. Most living creatures go through enough pain they do. Wolverine’s mutation means he lives with his pain on a daily basis. He HAS to. Dying is not an option for him. That is very defining for his character.

10) The fight with Wolverine and Sabretooth does a lot of things well. To start, it’s the first action scene of the film and - while brief - it establishes the strong choreography to come. Second, we immediately see a juxtaposition between Wolverine and the rest of the X-Men as he is more feral in his fighting style while Cyclops and Storm are much more uniform. Finally, it establishes the rivalry between Wolverine and Sabretooth. Something which is a staple of the comics, this rivalry doesn’t get too much time to develop in the film but it is established in small yet meaningful ways. I’m glad they at least did that as opposed to nothing.

11) Logan trying to escape Xavier’s mansion is actually wildly clever. It establishes the geography of the school without letting the audience know. Instead we follow Wolverine as he’s trying to escape this strange place and in the process get the layout of the new world he’s in. Very clever.

12) Patrick Stewart as Charles Xavier.

Similar to McKellen’s Magneto, we are able to see the complexities of Xavier’s character through Stewart’s performance. We understand the pain he went through as a child, we understand how he has/is searching for hope for the future. We see the soft sorrow he carries mixed in with this optimism and the struggle he carries to put stock in hope over pain. It’s a wonderful character who - like Jackman - Stewart will get to play for 17 years.

13) If you want any further proof that Hugh Jackman is great as Wolverine:

Logan [after Xavier gives exposition about the X-Men and such]: “Sabretooth? Storm. What do they call you? Wheels?”

At least the last part of that line was improvised, but it is so perfectly Wolverine it fits.

14) The introduction to the Xavier school from a storytelling standpoint (as opposed to just a geography standpoint) is very slick and clean. We’re getting a lot of exposition about Professor X, the X-Men, and the world of mutants in not a lot of time. But it doesn’t dog down the film and we are not bored by it.

15) Ah, the future continuity issues begin...

“When I was 17, I met a young named named Erik Lenscher...”

They seem a little older than 17 to me...

16) Rebecca Romijn as Mystique.

Romijn’s part as Mystique is largely a physical performance, but that does not mean it isn’t an iconic one. Before Jennifer Lawrence would put on the blue skin paint, Romijn would define who Mystique was on screen for all to come. She is able to portray the character’s passion, focus, physical strength, and shiftiness with just a movement. She doesn’t have many lines, but the ones she does have leave an impact.

Mystique [to Kelly]: “You know people like you are the reason I was afraid to go to school as a child.”

17) Magneto knows what’s up.

Magneto: “Mankind has always feared what it doesn’t understand.”

18) Famke Janssen as Jean Grey.

Janssen plays Jean well not only in this film but as she develops over the trilogy. Despite not having the flashiest/most aggressive of powers like Wolverine or even Cyclops, she’s able to hold her own with the rest of the team. She’s confident, competent, but still able to be vulnerable when the story calls for it and has no ego. A strong character actress with a strong character to fit her roll, I am glad for Janssen in this film.

19) James Marsden as Cyclops.

(GIF originally posted by @hughxjackman)

Okay, so I’ve got a handful of issues with how Cyclops is handled in the original trilogy. Not through Marsden’s performance or through his characterization, but more because of a lack of things to do in the plot. However, those issues do not pertain to this film (wait until I get to my Last Stand recap). Although Marsden’s Scott Summers/Cyclops is largely used as a foil to Jackman’s Wolverine, we get to see him in action and lead the X-Men later in battle (like he does in the comics). This film doesn’t peel back too much more than, “Wolverine pisses me off,” but we do get to see Marsden play a caring and competent leader when Wolverine is not in the picture. How he searches for Rogue, the way he handles the team on Liberty Island, Marsden plays all of this great. You understand why Scott is the leader of the team through his conduct and confidence, both things Marsden shows off very well.

20) Hey, remember back when Stan Lee cameos in Marvel movies were, “blink and you’ll miss it?”

21) So Logan straight up kills Rogue when she wakes him up from a nightmare. Like he’d be dead if it weren’t for her mutant ability. And after she does it to save her life she is met by fear and caution from her fellow students initially. And then Mystique disguised as Bobby comes to her and reprimands her. Tells her students are afraid of her, that Xavier is furious and looking to kick her out. How much must that hurt? Like, “Here’s a place where I can be me. Where other people are as weird as I am and where I can be accepted.” And then that’s taken away from her. It’s pulled out from under her feet because people are afraid of her, a feeling which is importantly all too familiar to her at this point. She let her guard down and - even though it wasn’t true and it wasn’t really Bobby - she was so ready to believe the world had turned on her AGAIN. That just...sucks.

22) Charles acting like he doesn’t know how Erik is hiding from his telepathy takes on new meaning in a post First Class world. It is probably easiest attributed to another error in continuity, but my head canon is that Charles is covering for Erik a little in the never dying hope that he’ll do the right thing.

23) Halle Berry as Storm.

I have never loved Berry as Storm, but that’s more because of The Last Stand than anything else. I think I like her best in this film, which is unfortunate because it is where she has the least to do. She’s a bit kinder, a bit more even tempered, wiser and more soulful than she comes off in the sequels. And the keeping of her original accent is a nice touch (I was disappointed to lose that in the sequels). But again, that’s all there’s really to say about her because she doesn’t get much time to shine in this film.

24) The relationship with Wolverine and Rogue is one of my favorite things about this film. These are the two most isolated characters in the film and they’re able to find solace in each other. Logan acts as the big brother/mentor to Rogue, familiar with the loneliness she feels for 15 years. Meanwhile Rogue finds comfort in someone who’s actually going to look after her. This is best seen on the train after Rogue runs away, where Logan leaves the decision up to Rogue. He’s not there to bring her back, he’s not there to pressure her into doing something she doesn’t want, he gives his two cents but will go wherever she wants to. He’s got her back.

Logan: “Come on. I’ll take care of you.”

If there’s one thing I miss most as the series progresses, it is this wonderful relationship between the pair.

25) According to IMDb:

The scene in the train station where a young boy smiles at Cyclops and he smiles back was unplanned. The boy was a huge X-Men fan, and Cyclops was his favorite. The scene originally called for Cyclops to look at the train schedule, but according to Bryan Singer, the boy could not stop smiling at James Marsden. Finally, during one shot, Marsden just looked back at him and smiled, much to the boy's delight. Bryan Singer liked the idea so much, he kept it in the film, and told the actress playing the boy's mother to react the way she did.

(GIF source unknown [if this is your GIF please let me know].)

26) And so it begins...

Magneto [upon encountering Wolverine]: “That remarkable metal doesn’t run through your entire body, does it?”

27) The scene with Magneto, the police, and Charles in the background is something I really enjoy. This is primarily because it is more a conflict between Charles and Magneto than anything else. I was taught in an early film class that if one character can walk away and not be devastated, the stakes aren’t high enough. I think that is the key to this scene. It’s all about stakes. What exactly are Charles and Erik willing to do, willing to sacrifice, all to get what they want? Seeing that play out is wonderful.

28) The fact that Storm stays with Senator Kelly while he dies, holds his hand, talks with him, even after all he’s done, speaks to a wisdom she has that is totally lost in X-Men: The Last Stand (but more on that when I get there).

Kelly: “Do you hate normal people?”

Storm: “Sometimes.”

Kelly: “Why?”

Storm: “I suppose I’m afraid of them.”

The fact she can admit that she hates those who oppress her sometimes is great. Because of course you would hate those who ruin your life! But not letting that hate define who you are is an incredible thing.

29) There is a brief moment where Cyclops is seen distraught over a comatose Professor X, which I think is very telling of their relationship in a way we will (unfortunately) not see again in this set of three films. It speaks to the depths of admiration he has for what is essentially his father figure.

30) One thing the Marvel Cinematic Universe can learn from this film: how to create a great villain in two hours.

Magneto [with Rogue, upon seeing the Statue of Liberty]: “I first saw it in 1949. America was going to be the land of tolerance. Of peace.”

Magneto [about the Holocaust]: “Women and children, whole families destroyed just because they were different than those in power.”

31) I love this.

Wolverine [about the uniforms]: “You actually go outside in these things?”

Cyclops: “Well what would you prefer? Yellow spandex?”

32) This is one of my favorite scenes in the entire franchise.

(GIFs originally posted by @soundsofmyuniverse)

I was about twelve when I saw this film for the first time. I really got comfortable using my middle finger after this scene. And too this day, every time I extend my middle finger, it is just SO cathartic. I may or may not be exclusively typing with only my middle fingers now.

33) Ladies and gentlemen, one of the greatest bloopers in cinematic history.

34) Logan’s fight with Mystique is incredible and reflects some of the incredibly strong solo choreography he will get as the film continues. It is fast paced, enticing, and plays with the concept of a shapeshifter very well (even giving us some GREAT misdirection right before Logan defeats Mystique, since at first we think he’s Mystique when he stabs Storm only to have Storm be Mystique all along).

35) You know how X-Men never stay dead? No? Well Toad does.

Toad [after thinking he killed Storm]: “Don’t you people ever die!?”

36) Oh boy...

That is a line crafted by Joss Whedon after Fox asked him to help iron out the script (one of only two lines of his that made it into the final film). According to the famed writer, he had intended it to be much more tongue in cheek than it was finally delivered as. To this day, it is considered one of the worst cheesiest lines to grace a superhero film ever. Moving on.

37) This was the other line of Whedon’s which made it into the film, and I fucking love it.

Wolverine [returning to the team, only for Cyclops to point his eye beams at him]: “Hey, hey. It’s me.”

Cyclops [thinking he’s Mystique]: “Prove it.”

(GIFs source unknown [if these are your GIFs please let me know].)

38) You know what trope I love more than any others? At least, I’m pretty sure it’s my favorite. When the antagonist’s self righteous behavior gets called out.

Wolverine [to Magneto]: “You are so full of shit. If you were really so righteous it would by you in that thing.”

39) The final fight between Logan and Sabretooth is another strong action set piece in the film, with the use of place (the top of the Statue of Liberty) used greatly. These two are very similar in styles, in ferocity, and it’s fun to see them duke it out.

40) The final dialogue between Charles and Erik is powerful for a lot of reasons. It harkens back to the core conflict of their relationship/dissonance in philosophies, while also reminding the audience that all the problems of the world have not been solved and will have to be dealt with in the future.

Magneto: Does it ever wake you in the middle of the night? The feeling that one day they will pass that foolish law or one just like it, and come for you? And your children?

Xavier: It does, indeed.

Magneto: What do you do, when you wake up to that?

Xavier: I feel a great swell of pity for the poor soul who comes to that school... looking for trouble.

X-Men is a strong start to what would end up being one of the defining franchises of the 21st century. With great performances all around - specifically Jackman, McKellen, and Stewart - as well as reverence for the source material and a powerful tone, X-Men stands up to the test of time because of it’s characters and (unfortunately always) relevant themes of bigotry and bias. A film everyone should try at least once.

[lalka-laski]

Where is your favorite place to get fries? Hm... curly fries are my fave, so anywhere that has those!

What is the most recent article of clothing you’ve purchased?

Leggings and a purse from Plato’s Closet 

Have you ever paid for anything with a cheque (check)?

Honestly I don’t think so. Who uses those anymore? 

Do you know anyone who was raised by their grandparents?

A few people 

Have you ever made your own pie from scratch?

Nope and I wouldn’t dare try either 

Who was the last person you had an in-depth conversation with? Glenn 

Are there any waterfalls nearby?

There are a few small ones in the area and Niagara Falls is less than an hour away. And I mean... that’s the waterfall of all waterfalls. 

What was the last food item you ate?

My homemade mac & cheese last night. It came out splendid! 

What are your earliest memories of going to see a doctor?

I remember basic pediatrician appointments from an early age but I’m not exactly sure how young

Can you hear traffic right now?

Nope

Have you ever pulled a muscle?

I think so? 

What did you do last weekend?

Had my usual date day on Saturday with my honey, then went to a Mardi Gras party at night. Then spent Sunday nursing a hangover while watching trash tv... it was glorious! 

What is your favorite gaming console?

No preference 

Have you kissed someone today?

I kissed Glenn’s forehead while he was sleeping to say goodbye this morning, but he didn’t kiss me back

What is your favorite condiment?

MAYO ON EVERYTHING

Do you have a strong opinion for or against Justin Bieber?

No opinion 

Have you used a telephone today?

I’ve been texting on my personal phone and I’ve used my office phone twice. 

Do you prefer coffee or tea?

I alternate between the two.

Have you taken a painkiller today?

No but I feel a potential headache brewing so I may pop over to the nurse’s station for some Advil 

How many theaters does the closest cinema from your house have?

Not a single clue 

Do you always have a stock of alcohol in your house?

I wouldn’t say a “stock” but there’s usually a bottle of some kind. 

Have you ever had a pumpkin latte and if so, did you like it?

They’re ok. I don’t drink them mostly just because of the stigma. I look like a basic white girl enough as it is, I don’t need an accessory. 

Have you had a nap today?

I’ve only been awake a few hours. I’m crossing my fingers I get out of work today in time for a nap before my boyfriend gets home but I’m not sure that’ll be possible

Is there an antique store in your town or city?

Quite a few. I should visit them more!

Have you ever been to a baby shower?

Of course 

Are you currently in a relationship? If so, do you think it will last?

Yes and well, we have plans to get married so it’s a safe bet

Do you have a hyphenate name or know anyone with one? (eg. Carter-Brown)

I know a few people who do, but it’s rare. 

What would you wear if you were being taken out to dinner tonight?

Well I am technically being taken out to dinner tonight. Though we’re just going to grab subs (and our favorite giant pickles!) I’ll either be wearing my work clothes if I don’t stop home first, or something super casual and bordering on pajamas. 

What were the last shoes you wore?

I’m wearing my work flats right now. They’re pointed toe so they have an 80s vibe. Which is, of course, why I love them. 

Who cooks most of the meals in your household?

Exclusively me. But I’m happy to do so! 

Do you know anyone who has been to rehab?

Yep 

Have you ever had a mojito? Honestly I’m not sure. If I have it was only a sip or two. But now I’m inspired to maybe try one this weekend...  Do you take your Christmas decorations down before or after New Years?

Typically after, I like to keep them up as long as possible. Though my mom always warned us that if the tree wasn’t taken down by January 6 then hobgoblins would crawl out of it. My family is very normal. 

How many romantic relationships have you been in so far?

Ehh... that’s a little murky. But it doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is that I’ve found my one and I’ll be with him forever.

Have you ever been camping in the wilderness?

Yes and it’s not really my cup of tea. A cabin or cottage is fine but I have to draw the line at sleeping in a tent. 

Do you have any money on you right now?

Nope

Would you consider yourself to be a picky eater?

Not in the slightest. And picky eaters actually bother me, I find them childish!  (Though I have nothing to back this assumption)

Have you made a large purchase today?

Nope

What was the last candy you ate?

Gummy hearts for Valentine’s Day 

How often do you eat Subway?

Absolutely never. If I wanted to eat a sandwich on a damn hot dog bun, I’d make it at home. 

Have you ever lived in a house with a pool in the yard?

My childhood home!

What color is your toothbrush?

Pink, as are most objects in my life.

Do you have gluten intolerance or anyone who does?

I’m sick of hearing about supposed gluten intolerance. It’s so phony. 

Have you ever cried while watching a movie?

You must not know me because I cry at EVERY. MOVIE. 

First thing that catches your eye when you look out the nearest window?

I have no windows in the dungeon I’m currently trapped in 

Have you ever had a migraine?

Thankfully no 

Do you have a gym membership?

I do but I’ve been meaning to cancel it. 

Have you locked your front door today?

Mhm 

Have you ever slept in a car overnight?

Nope 

Have you washed the dishes today?

Ugh, thanks for reminding me that I have to do that when I get home

Have you ever fainted?

Nope 

Have you been awake before sunrise today?

Yeah I’ve been up since 5:07 exactly. 

When was the last time you went to the bank?

I took cash out a couple weeks ago to tip my nail tech. 

Do you avoid conflict as much as possible?

Absolutely. Which usually ends up creating more conflict for me in the end. You think I’d learn but I haven’t yet... 

Have you ever used a leaf blower?

Nope

You see someone running around naked in the street. Your reaction?

“That looks like fun” 

Have you hugged anybody today?

Actually yes. It’s my coworker and dear friend’s last day at work today and I hugged her as soon as I walked in the office this morning. LOTS of tears happening today. 

Who called you last?

Tommy 

Have you ever been to Mexico?

Nope

Has someone close to you died of murder?

Thankfully no

Do you cry easily?

You don’t even know

Do you have any drugs in your bedroom?

Nah 

Would you ever have sex with the last person you texted?

My sister? I’m throwing up

Do you abbreviate when you text?

More often than I realize actually 

Did you ever have sex with your ex after you broke up?

Yes 

Have you ever given up something you really wanted?

Yes, haven’t we all? 

When’s the last time you did laundry?

Just yesterday. I have more to do today though.

Do you recycle?

I really ought to more. I admit I’m lazy about it. It’s one of my worst habits. 

Are you afraid others will judge you from reading some of your answers?

I’m pretty certain no one even reads these so I’m not worried. 

Do you pray to God often?

That’s a tough question 

Have you ever done volunteering work abroad?

Nope

Can you stand spicy foods?

I’m working on it! My palate is evolving

Is anyone in the room on the phone right now?

It’s just me here right now 

How good are you in terms of ‘saving up’ money?

I used to be great at it and I moved into my current apartment with almost $6k in savings. I honestly have no idea where it went now. I guess I severely miscalculated my budget 

Do you have a shower stall or a bath tub?

Bath tub 

Have you been to the beach this year?

It’s January in upstate New York so.... no. 

When did you graduate high school?

2010

Can you read HTML code?

I may have some leftover knowledge from my Myspace days... but not much

Does a blizzard from Dairy Queen sound good right now?

Actually no

Do you drink diet pop?

I switched to it for weight loss purposes. And I want to bash my head against a wall whenever some pseudo-scientific twit warns against the dangers of artificial sweeteners and claims regular soda is “healthier” than diet. No food product is categorically healthy or unhealthy. Food is a personal experience colored by a variety of factors. Diet soda is the ~healthier option for me because drinking it has allowed me to drop 20 pounds of excess weight that was straining my body. No one can tell me that’s unhealthy. 

Do you like the taste of cough syrup?

Who does????? 

How many people did you hang out with today?

None, unless you count everyone at work right now. But we’re not exactly chilling 

How much money did you spend today, and on what?

None so far.

When’s the last time you were high/drunk?

I was a little tipsy last night, I won’t lie

What are you doing tomorrow?

Girls night!! 

Who is the person you often go to for venting?

All of my friends, my sisters or Glenn 

Why do you do these surveys?

There’s not much else to do when work is slow so these are a good way to pass the time. Plus I like the self reflection they allow me. 

Have you spoken to your mother today?

Nope, but she might text me later 

Do you have current feelings for anybody? The love of my life!!!