#the threat was certainly more believable and palpable

[camerica]

[evilfloralfoolery]

Please enjoy this little bit of snzfuckery between Indigo's incredibly attractive parents, Astralis and Aurora. It's some gross courtly bullshit and I love it.

___________________________

“My lord, I can assure you that this lapse in judgment shall not happen again.” 

Even from her vantage point behind the hedges, the guard’s fear is palpable.  As it should be.  Her beloved is as stern as he is imposing, seeming to tower over all who cross his path, regardless of their true height.  Clad in crimson silk and fine etched leather, Astralis is both elegant and terrifying.

Precisely why she had chosen him.  Or rather, why they had chosen each other.

“See to it that you do not disappoint me again.”  The dark propriety of his voice is a resonant purr of sound that does not rely on volume to convey the threat. 

“Y-yes, my lord.”

Astralis waves a hand.  “Away with you, then.” 

The guard bows, retreating with a backward step until he feels it is proper to turn his back and hurry along on his way. 

A wise decision, clearly.

Astralis executes a sharp turn on his heel, his impressive length of ebony hair sliding over one shoulder and spilling down the length of his back like a living thing, obedient to the whims of its master. Although she cannot hear just what her husband is muttering to himself, it is certainly not pleasant.  

Fire flashes in his palm, brilliant and stark against the green of the hedges, and he incinerates a hapless, wayward branch into nothingness, his booted foot dispersing the ashen embers with a fluid step. It is, however, the rosebush that receives the withering, contemptuous sneer.

“Wretched and treacherous beauty,” he grumbles. “I would destroy you all, if I were able.” 

He stiffens to a halt beside the gate, his posture rigid but for a moment.

Surely he cannot see her, not with the hedges in unpruned proliferation around her. It matters not, for all she cares to witness is his most certain downfall.

And he does not disappoint.

His austere demeanor falters, the immovable facade cracking into a flash of annoyance and a sharp, singular hitch of breath. 

“--AHESSSCHuh! EHSHHHuh! ESSHH! ESSCH! EKSSSH!!”

He doesn't not bother with the handkerchief, perhaps because the urgency of the matter is greater than he anticipated. Instead, he barely manages to steeple his hands over his mouth and nose, each sneeze a greater shoulder-shuddering, body-curling event, as if his capacity to release it is somehow inadequate.

Astralis straightens with a pointed, indecent sniffle and brushes a length of displaced hair aside.  “If you do not believe yourself to be visible to me, Aurora, you are mistaken.” 

She huffs a short sigh and resists the urge to roll her eyes. 

Infuriating man.

“Perhaps,” she says as she emerges from the hedge canopy, “I was allowing you privacy for your struggles.”

A smirk curves one side of his mouth. “Is that so?”

His smug expression wavers and this time, he conjures the aforementioned handkerchief with a snap of his fingers.

“AESSSHuh! EHSSH! EKSSH!! Gods.”

Her hand lights upon his arm, smile gentling. “Bless you, love.” 

“Thank you,” he says with a sharp sniffle. “Blasted topiary maintenance. I should install an iron fence instea-hhh…!” His breath heaves and he leans away from her.”--hhuhEKSSSCHU!!” 

“Bless you!” She repeats a bit more emphatically than necessary. Her hands slide to cup his face, threads of his silken hair cool and smooth against her fingers. “Nature is so cruel to you.” 

He chuckles. “I believe it was my wife who ordered the planting of this entire fiasco.” 

“Well,” she says. “She must be quite insensitive to your suffering.” 

“Hmm, indeed.” His hands close up on her upper arms and he jerks her against his chest, “Were she not so stunning amongst the greenery, I would burn it to ash.” 

Aurora runs her finger along the straight slope of his nose, pausing to tap the tip. “Flattery is a wise man’s tool.” 

He summons an obligatory flinch at the intrusion of her touch, gathering her into his embrace.  “Sincerity is a tool far greater.”

It is only with Aurora that the sharpness of his gaze softens to warm, copper honey, his fortress of impenetrable emotional detachment conquered.

“Depart with me now before I am defeated by the whims of my own traitorous body.”  A smirk curves one side of his mouth. “Unless that is your plan, my love.” 

Aurora feigns aghast indignation. “I would never dream of such a thing.”

[buffyspeak]

obviously there are much more obvious and physically brutal tools of oppression the capitol employs against the districts, but something i find especially cruel and sinister is how often they weaponize an illusion of choice.

the careers can train for years and choose to volunteer and have even have a significant upper hand in the games, but the indoctrination in those districts runs so deep, they seem to forget (or i guess actively reframe, if the idea that many of them express that they're bringing "pride to their district" is anything to go by") that at the end of the day, they are being sent to slaughter as much as anyone else. if the careers stopped volunteering, they wouldn't suddenly be exempt from the games. and even in the years they win, it's still only one that comes out.

& katniss notes that in district twelve, one of the few freedoms they have is to choose who they marry, but even that is... sort of murky because of how divided the district is between the seam and the merchants, with ms. everdeen giving up whatever comforts she had growing up in town to marry katniss' father because she loved him. and it seems pretty heavily implied to me that she was estranged from her family because of this, because, as far as i'm aware, we get no real mention of them. they have no other support system after katniss' father dies. so yes, anyone in twelve can choose who they marry, but we see pretty clearly that marrying across the class divide can often mean one risking their home, their family, their livelihood for a life spent in impoverishment. and that doesn't mean it wasn't a choice on ms. everdeen's part - it clearly was, and it was the radical choice to make. it just makes me wonder how many people in twelve could, theoretically, have chosen to marry someone they loved, but were not either able or willing to risk being placed in such a position.

& even more relevant to catching fire, katniss is noting this elusive freedom they have because it's one she sees being taken away from her right before her eyes. yes, katniss and peeta can "choose" to get married, and yes, it's even her idea, but it's obviously not something being done out of desire. they are desperately looking for any way to appease snow, and katniss figures it's going to happen anyway, so they might as well do it when they can make it work in their favor. what i also find notable about this scene is that when peeta agrees and then holes up in his room, clearly upset, katniss asks haymitch why he was so upset when she thought it was what he wanted. and haymitch responds that it's because he wanted it to be real. and i think that's true but sometimes gets boiled down to a surface-level reading. and to be clear, i think haymitch himself knows it's not as simple as that might make it sound! it's not just about being upset or having his feelings hurt thinking that katniss doesn't feel the same way as him and is suggesting this. he knows why she does! he gets it! it is about the fact that he is being backed into this corner, too. this is not a choice he is making for himself either, not really, same as katniss! they both agree to it under the duress of trying to figure out how to protect themselves and their loved ones. this is not a choice he WOULD make for himself, knowing (or at least believing) that katniss doesn't love him in that way, and certainly not for the reason that they're doing it. not if they and their loved ones and the people starting to rebel in the districts weren't in active, palpable danger. it twists a real desire, a genuine love, something about himself he values, and turns it into something the capitol can control and strip away and then gloss over with a shiny veneer of false choice and saying, look, you got exactly what you wanted.

and this is also very important when it comes to finnick and johanna's stories because as we know, finnick is literally sex-trafficked in the capitol under the threat of having his loved ones harmed, and it's heavily implied that johanna endured the same threat and has had all her loved ones killed for refusing. finnick, in contrast, is made to - whether by pressure from the capitol or as a coping mechanism (i suspect a mix of both) - not only endure this sexual exploitation but perform a persona that he enjoys it, that he's The Sex Symbol of Panem, that it is a Real choice he is making and not outright coercion, that he is desiring of and therefore somehow complicit in the abuses committed against him (obviously not true.) and truly, i cannot even for one moment fathom blaming either of them for the way they react to these deeply horrifying circumstances because neither of them have any actual good choices!!! two "options" are served to them, both despicable in their own rights, and they just have to do whatever they feel they can live with.

idk what the point of this is it's just something i find so uniquely sick about snow and the other powerful capitol higher-ups, because it is, of course, a form of control in its own right - after all, while cruel and horrifying, giving a public pretense of choice while making it clear privately how limited any of their options really are is, in fact, a very effective tool in the system of control he's built.

[lunaetics]

roll the stone away | pack

the timing worked out: dean, sam, jo, and lux⎯who'd tagged along for your protection, whatever that meant⎯arrived at ajani's home and stepped out of the car, just as the group of salem refugees arrived.

dean didn't know much about the group. frankly, the only people he really knew anything about were sam and jo. but lo had informed them all that her friends, alphas like her, would be meeting them soon, seeking asylum and help that only eshe could provide right now. dean hadn't pried for details⎯they'd all had such a long day already and all he wanted was for it to come to an end⎯but watching the group climb out of their mini-bus, he thought he understood.

the exhaustion of the group was palpable. shadows hung over their faces and there was a stiffness to the way they move. none of them looked bruised or particularly ruffled, like there'd been a battle, just⎯⎯exhausted. as if they'd been through just as much as everyone else here, if not significantly more. and there was something about the way they hesitated to step too far away from each other, thoughtlessly shuffling into a clustered formation as they stepped out of their vehicle, that was familiar to dean.

he'd never done it with a group quite that large, but⎯⎯with sam, yeah. he recognized what it looked like to have been dragged to the pits of hell with someone and feel like the world would end if he ever parted from that person again.

peculiar enough, the last person out of the bus was asleep; she was pulled out of the car gently, cradled in someone's arms. her head lulled against their shoulder, and dean momentarily thought that it was kind of them to allow her to sleep.

then he saw⎯⎯the way their eyes shuttered away from her, as if she were a painful sight. the careful way she was held. the pallor of her skin. the way she wasn't even breathing.

oh.

finally, dean looked away.

"oh, good timing," lux said, running her eyes over the group. unlike the people she'd driven with, she wasn't human; she could pick up all of the distinct scents in the group, as well as the lack of a heartbeat in one of them. her eyes flicked down to the sleeping witch, then back up to the others. "come on, i'll bring you inside. don't worry," she added, seeing the way one witch's eyes darted frantically around, "you're safe here. whoever you're running from, they can't get you in this city⎯⎯certainly not here."

mae drew her bottom lip between her teeth and tried to believe that. rose and the twins had said the same thing. mae wanted to believe it. but it was hard to believe anything when her entire belief system had been upended just twenty-four hours ago. still, she fashioned a smile for the blonde and nodded. "right. yeah, of course."

lux tried to return her smile. she wasn't the best welcoming committee; she was not soft and endearing like julia. but ajani would want her to be kind, and she owed him everything. so she smiled, then turned to lead everyone into ajani's fortress of a home. some of the witches looked around in awe as they ventured through the house to find the others, and lux said nothing about it. spirits knew she'd done the same thing many times over the years.

soon enough, they reached the room where everyone was gathered. uche was seated between her sisters, hand wrapped around eshe's while her head rested against ife's chest. lux couldn't blame them for the way they banded together. near death experiences were scary for anyone; she couldn't imagine what that did to someone who'd been invincible since near the beginning of time.

upon entering the room, ethan couldn't even find it in himself to recognize all of the threats gathered around them. his eyes immediately found the familiar sight of home. "lo," he exhaled, breaking away from the witches to cross the room over to her. he wrapped his arms around her and felt something settle in his chest at finally being with her again. separating had been the right thing; that didn't mean he didn't miss her terribly. "hey. you okay?" he pulled back from the hug to look her in the eyes. "have you been alright?"

bellamy, on the other hand, did not look at lo first. instead, her eyes landed on julia. she was an odd sight, considering bellamy was certain deucalion had killed her some years ago. then again, she seemed to have a knack for beating death. there were scars wrapped around her throat, jagged claws marks that undoubtedly came from deucalion's attack, but that seemed to be the extent of her trauma. she didn't look at the alphas with any sort of recognition, and it made bellamy question just what price she'd paid for her survival.

"thank you for having us," harry said, while the alphas reunited, his voice quieter than usual. everything felt... odd. in a new city, with a bunch of new people, and piper still dead. if the last thing wasn't true, then piper would be speaking right now; she'd know how to be a good ambassador for their coven, how to show that they come with earnest intentions. but she was⎯asleep, still, so someone had to say something. "we're sorry for the sudden intrusion."

[gealach-in-a-misty-world]

When a sharp cry wakes Jean in the middle of the night during a terrible tempest, she’s convinced it must have been a dream. But when the cry comes again, Jean ventures outside and is shocked by what she discovers—a young woman in labor, already drenched to the bone in the freezing cold and barely able to speak a word of English. Although Jean is the only midwife in the village and for miles around, she’s at a loss as to who this woman is or where she’s from; Jean can only assume she must be the new wife of the neighbor up the road, Tobias. And when Tobias does indeed arrive at her cabin in search of his wife, Muirin, Jean’s questions continue to grow. Why has he kept his wife’s pregnancy a secret? And why does Muirin’s open demeanor change completely the moment she’s in his presence? Though Jean learned long ago that she should stay out of other people’s business, her growing concern—and growing feelings—for Muirin mean she can’t simply set her worries aside. But when the answers she finds are more harrowing than she ever could have imagined, she fears she may have endangered herself, Muirin, and the baby. Will she be able to put things right and save the woman she loves before it’s too late, or will someone have to pay for Jean’s actions with their life?

"She held her love in an open hand."

Rose Sutherland's A Sweet Sting of Salt is a sapphic retelling of the tale of the selkie wife, set in Nova Scotia during the Nineteenth Century. The author weaves an atmospheric story of longing and loneliness, depicting period-typical homophobia and a deft exploration of the wrongness of forced marriage. The growing tenderness between Jean and Muirin is written beautifully, and as the stakes get higher and the husband turns into a menacing antagonist the story almost turns into a horrific tale, with palpable tension woven in the narration.

The cast was fantastic. Jean, the protagonist and only POV, a midwife with a secret in her past that led her to being ostracised for a long while, stuns with her bravery and her kindness. Muirin is a perfect match, a loving mother and a brave character whose playfulness shines through sometimes, with a secret of her own. The crown jewels of the book are certainly their interactions, and especially the moments when Jean teaches English to Muirin. Jean's mentor and her friend, a mother and son, take a bigger role than expected; Jean's relationship with her mentor is beautifully explored, especially in one touching moment, but it's the small moments with the other townsfolk, as we see Jean carve a new life for herself, that really stir the heart. Muirin's husband is an excellent antagonist, a stalking threat who believes that possession is love.

The mystery is built up slowly, with little clues here and there, but it's easy to clock in on the truth even if one picked up the book only thinking it a work of historical fiction. Jean is perhaps a little slower to catch on, but when she does, it's with a heart full of love. The full scope of the revelations however is a surprise even to a more savvy reader.

A Sweet Sting of Salt is a stunning debut.

✨ 4 stars

[You can find more of my reviews about queer speculative fiction on my blog MISTY WORLD]

[hopefromadoomedtimeline]

[ REVEALED ]: sender, having been secretly following the receiver, reveals themselves in the process of saving the receiver’s life from an unexpected threat.

mikitaka breathes heavily as his arms shift from the appearance of electrical cables and into a blue sludge, then their original form once again as they retract back toward his shoulders.

he's not in the business of attacking earthlings, especially when he doesn't have a good reason to -- but this was justified, wasn't it? someone had been following trunks, and the aura that manifested around them was horrible to the point of being palpable.

did the other need the defense? no, most likely not -- but he'd prefer to not think about what might've happened were that not the case. (besides, it's not like the person is dead. just unconscious. for now.)

Shining armor! - Accepting!

That was.... bizarre, if he were to put it lightly. And he had seen a few very bizarre things, but a man suddenly morphing himself so wildly certainly was up there. While many questions ran through his head, he was mostly silent as Mikitaka reforms his arms into a more humanoid appearance, slowly attempting to process just what was happening, and what truly was he a witness to just now.

For a brief moment, his eyes shift over to the person to the man that was subdued in an attempt to wrap his head around some semblance of sense with what to make of the situation. From observation alone, it seemed like the would be assailant was still alive, albeit unconscious and undoubtedly in immense pain should he ever wake up. Trunks had seen him a few times as he traversed the city but he had apparently been oblivious to what his intentions were. And to be honest, he still was in the dark about them.

However, Mikitaka's was a bit easier to figure out. It was clear he wasn't looking to start a fight, nor would he attack another person for no reason, or allow his guard down when it happened. No, he was... protecting Trunks himself. Acting in a way that was kind, even if Trunks had believed he was not someone who needed saving, Trunks would not spit in the face of his seeming act of selflessness.

And so, despite the many, many questions he would have, only one would be spoken after a couple of minutes of silence.

"...Are you alright?"

[sebcastillo]

IT HAS BECOME A pattern that seba has become far too used to -- both one he took comfort in, but also with some amount of heartache. while seba tried his hardest to separate his work from the rest of his life, the inevitable emotional onslaught would soon rear it's head. especially when it came to rafael, who put his very being on the line with every waking breath to keep them, him, safe. he had killed -- only once. but it still had a profound effect on him, both in his waking hours and in his sleep. how the other even managed to stay standing, he could do nothing but commend.

a heavy heart was certainly a restless one -- but seba was certainly good at faking it. he had to be, if he was to remain alert and prepared for his patients. no matter how much this game of pretend bore into the deepest crevices of his soul.

damn bounty..

the other's hesitation is certainly palpable, but the doctor makes no effort to push. he never does, not out of wanting to know, but wanting the room they were in to exude even the slightest semblance of comfort. he was safe now. that is, if sebastian could help it. and so, he does what he does best. he listens, as hands go to work pouring the antiseptic across the cloth.

just barreled after me, and took me through glass.

that certainly explained the shards. yet another pang hits him as his face contorts not with fear of the other or judgement, but relief. relieved that he's in one piece. wondering how someone could be so strong, so hardened by the world around him.

seba pauses for a moment, moving closer -- rag in a gloved hand. " this may hurt a bit, okay? " he finally says, waiting for a handful of beats, so the other can process what is it about to happen, the sting that will soon wash over him. " and you can stay as long as you need to. after i examine you.. and give my clearance, of course.. there's no rush. just.. take your time. you understand me? "

does anywhere truly feel like home, when you're constantly seeking out the worst that the world has to offer? perhaps it's why seba admires him as much as he does. even if such an occupation came to him out of necessity, he continues to put everyone else before himself. put his own life at risk, to eliminate a threat that even he was not aware of.

it was undeniably and wholeheartedly selfless, in a world where everyone had been forced to be out for themselves.

seba couldn't think of a single thing more human than that. such selflessness. while sebastian believed his own profession was a noble one, he could never do what rafael did. he didn't have the strength.

" 1... 2... " three. the glove makes contact with rafael's cheek while the other rests on his shoulder. he has experienced this pain before, and he know's it's enough to make someone dizzy. but after hearing what he heard, he doesn't know if it's to keep himself or the other upright. perhaps, just maybe, a little bit of both.

i’m not.

seba’s honesty draws a quirked smile to his lips, rafael flickering his eyes across the doctor’s familiar features. finds a bleeding heart and determination to keep him alive in the crinkle of his eyes. there are scars in his skin that were once open wounds for seba’s fingers to stitch back together, reminders of his endurance. the low light seems to flicker as he turns to allow nimble touch better access, rafael’s wound stinging with the attention.

he could take a knife to his side or a sheet of metal to his skin deep enough to unwound him, but experience never healed him of his personal ailments. woozy sensations make his eyes blink—he has never told anyone of his discomfort with blood. his own, at least; how it conjured images of being torn apart, ravaged by monstrous-fingers. nightmares given bones and skin to become reality. 

rafael wonders if sebastian can sense his blood aversion. 

“damn bounty…” he starts, contemplating how much information is too much. what is he compared to a doctor? their paths diverged significantly—rafael killed and captured and wounded. sebastian healed and soothed and stitched people back together. underlying curiosity wonders if there is hidden judgment there; beneath that is his personal discomfort of its possible existence. he has come to appreciate this other man. he owes his life to him a dozen times over.

“followed ‘em into a worn down store. just my luck it’s one of the only buildings not cleared.” 

rafael recalls the screech that met his taunting call, the sudden weight of aging slime and sprouted fungus dismantling from the walls. tendrils tickled the very cheek seba meets with soft hands now and rafael suppresses a shiver. “clicker jumped outta nowhere. took him down. but you know… they don’t stop. not after one gun shot. not even two. just barreled after me and took me through glass.” 

[phoenixyfriend]

Buir Shaak

(Read Here)

Shaak is not the only one to fall backwards and wake up years upon years before her death.

She lets the others take their roles as they’d like. Kenobi and Yoda and Mace are all very focused on the problem of the Sith apparently known as Sidious. Jocasta’s already frailer than is optimal, but she’s got a mind like steel trap and know better than the rest how the Empire actually managed to happen, both the obvious and the less so. She is also the first and readiest to handle the problem of Yan, and the most hopeful that he is not yet beyond saving.

Skywalker is all of physically eleven right now, but so full of power and rage and grief that those three aren’t exactly letting him out of their sights. Plo didn’t fall back with the rest of them, but he’s more than happy to take over Skywalker-wrangling when the others are busy and don’t quite trust the boy to not muck up the plan. This is helped by the fact that Skywalker regularly kidnaps Plo’s favorite initiate for cuddles.

(The initiate also remembers the future. She spends much time lecturing Skywalker between hugs and crying. Nobody stops her.)

Shaak lets everyone do as they will. Objectively, they don’t need her on Coruscant.

She heads to Kamino.

--

The Kaminoans are confused but welcoming. Nala Se hides her annoyance. Lama Su and Taun We don’t realize that the Jedi aren’t meant to be here yet. Burtoni isn’t in Tipoca City.

Shaak asks to speak with the progenitor. She is led to Jango Fett’s rooms.

He stiffens when he sees her. He has not yet worked through his traumas of Galidraan. He does not act casual and confident as Kenobi claims he had in the future. She smiles, and she knows that he sees her fangs. She asks to speak with him.

Woodenly, he agrees. He lets her in. She sits at his table. He serves tea.

Boba toddles about. She smiles when he collides with her leg. He is two years old, and very chubby. He fits nicely in her lap.

Jango doesn’t like that very much.

“This entire project is a trap,” Shaak tells him. “Both for my people, and for you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Jango tells her.

“It’s a long and complicated story, and I imagine you wouldn’t believe much of it,” she says. “You bought into this plan because they told you it would give you a chance at revenge against the Jedi for Galidraan, yes?”

He stiffens, rage palpable but stifled and hidden away. Shaak can feel it, but she’s sensitive to such things.

“Galidraan was arranged for by Death Watch, and Death Watch received funding from Sith—or at least people claiming to be Sith—to do so. Those same Sith are the ones that contracted and paid, through deception, for this army.” She takes a lek in hand and uses it to capture Boba’s attention, as he seems a mite annoyed that nobody is playing with him. “Upon destruction of the Jedi, the army would be turned to destroying other threats to the burgeoning Sith Empire’s power, which would include the Mandalorian sector.”

“Mandalore is demilitarized,” Jango says. He doesn’t seem to believe it, but he does say it.

Shaak shrugs. “Believe what you will. My only role right now is to oversee and scale down the ongoing production, and ensure a higher rate of ethical treatment and removal of more extreme training methods, along with gene therapy to negate the advanced aging, removal of behavioral chips, and deprogramming. We the Jedi do not hold with many of the abuses being committed here, nor do we wish to allow the indoctrination occurring. We will take responsibility, as they were ordered in our name, but as we are currently at work to stop the impending wars before they start, we’ll be looking to minimize the rights violations and set up alternatives.”

She smiles at him, and takes up her cup of tea, and says, “We would certainly appreciate if you stuck around to help, as they are your children.”

The eldest of the command batch should be three right now. The alpha clones, five, perhaps six. The main generation of troopers would be Boba’s age, only two.

Even the Nulls would be seven at the absolute most. Fourteen, physically.

Jango’s eyes are fixed on the toddler in Shaak’s arms. Wordlessly, she picks Boba up and holds him out to his father. Jango cradles him like something precious.

Shaak waits. There is no Colt to help her, this time, but that’s alright. There’s no war to fight, either. It will be a simpler process.

(Continue on AO3)

[shalheretical]

Prinecess Zeisan sucks

CW: Talks of genocide and ethnic cleansing. Not super in depth, but I know how it can ruin one's day to talk about. Also, TW for my rambling. I'm sort of sick and very emotional while writing this & my genuine apologies if I did not explain myself well. Also, I decided not to censor out names so this would stay out of certain tags because I do think it's important to discuss this sort of thing.

So, I'm sure we've all heard about the ATLA-inspired tabletop RPG game. It's a pretty cool project, and I'm glad the creators were able to get their creativity out. Am I tired of Bryke's cashing in on ATLA? Yeah, but I'm also a shill and I enjoy some of the new content that's come from it. I'm also sure that a lot of people have heard about Sozin's sister, Princess Zeisan.

To give you the gist, she's a nonbending Fire Nation princess, who devoted herself to Air Nomad teachings, training under Sister Rioshon, who she grew to have a romantic relationship with, until she decided that Rioshon didn't suit her dynasty-toppling needs. She instead married Khandro, the leader of a renegade Air Nomad group called Guiding Wind. They were able to make an alliance to protect themselves against Sozin and Fire Nation expansionism.

"Sozin could not control his rage when Zeisan proposed to Khandro, and saw the Guiding Wind's beliefs as a threat, which he was willing to stop by any means necessary, and refused to back down from fighting Zeisan now that he was Fire Lord." And he was right to assume they were a threat. Zeisan was certainly conspiring against him, using Khandro's political leverage as a tool, something she could weaponize against her brother.

And whether the creators intended this or not, the Air Genocide is no longer one of just blind hatred, of racism and ethnocentrism, and the belief of an inherent superiority over other nations that they'd wish to "share with the world." Sozin's propaganda is vindicated. There's someone within that ethnic group, actively working against him, and after all - if not her, why not them all? And whether the creators saw this coming or not, there is fans who now say things like, "Oh, so he must have genocided the Air Nomads to get back at her, because he was mad at her betrayal." Again, erasing the actual causes of genocide - dehumanization, hatred, and feelings of superiority.

It's irresponsible to deny this aspects, and yet, it feels like Bryke is always skirting around it. There's very few instances of examples of the genuine racialization of Air Nomad people, and many of them are either played a little too comedically even though these racial stereotypes feel very real (re: the comic talking about air nomads having wings and practising witchcraft, which, as a Jewish person, ring very true, and yet seem to have very little affect on Aang) , or people have taken it as genuine Air Nomad culture (re: "What would you know of fathers? You were raised by monks." Why are we believing what the racist has to say about Air Nomad culture?). That's not to say they never depict those aspects, or that it's entirely the writers' fault for not understanding just how little media literacy some of their fans would have, but here we were, and consequences mean more than intent.

However, it used to be fine. I don't expect ATLA to literally give me a depiction of genocide that my ancestors' feel. I don't expect it to be something you could present to the UN as an example of genocide. I really don't. And things before Princess Zeisan were basically fine. In fact, there were a lot of things that felt very true to me, personally.

But Princess Zeisan isn't respectful. She isn't a genuine defector. She wasn't just incidentally there. And her existence creates more than just a scapegoat, more than just Sozin taking a gamble to blot the Avatar out of existence in one fell swoop. The effect its had on fandom discussion is already palpable, if I'm being honest.

I guess it all comes down to: genocide does not need a motivation. There doesn't need to be some truth to the reason the victims of a genocide are being targeted. In fact, it's actively harmful to do so - it's victim blaming. And sure, it's fictional. I get that. But to a lot of ATLA fans, genocide will probably always feel vaguely fictional to them - something that's real, that they were never be able to empathize with or understand. And that's a good thing; the less genocides there are, the better. But that also means, there is a responsibility to depict it properly or not at all.

[morgana-ren]

so, idea: good old fashioned villains vs heroes. heroes massacred, shiggy kills a pro hero and is about to kill their sidekick, then the kids they were protected. sidekick says she'll do anything to save them; shiggy does the whole leering 'anything?' thing, expecting her to punch him, or use her quirk -- but she knows she's outmatched, and so she kisses him instead. slightly older reader (like 28), manchild confused shiggy, then we go from there

He’s a total school boy but he’ll never admit it

Liquid red bleeds into white, seeping into the fabric of your slashed hero uniform and settling into the pores of the fabric. Your knees tremble and your body quakes, gripping the wound across your stomach as blood slips through the slats of your fingers. Gravel embeds into your knees, nerves singing with pain. The tears slipping down your cheeks mingle with ash and soot, the fleeting remains of the brave hero who gave his life to keep you from the same fate.

A group of terrified students cowers behind you, trembling from the nightmare to the front.

These aren't just students- they're children. These are children. They cling to each other, cold and hurt and terrified. The brave ones do their best to tend to the few wounded, staring down at the threat that encroaches. Others shrink. Some cry and pray.

All are shaking.

Don't let them see you like this!

You're grateful for the rain; the tears that slip down across your face through your defiant features are hidden. The pain is blinding but you refuse to fall. They need you. You can't afford to fall now. This isn't about you.

He inches closer, the monster clad in black, careless footsteps sloshing through the puddles on the ground as his red shoes stop just short of you. Hands in his pockets, head cocked as he looks down on you with an expression that reeks of condescension. Rain slips through his silver hair, a hideous cackle resounding along side the thunder. 

“This is the best the heroes have got, huh? Pathetic.”

The sole of his shoe collides with your chest, sending you careening onto your back. The wound in your side sears as you hit the asphalt, a scream ripping from your lungs despite your will. There’s an unforgiving sting in your cheek as it slides across the terrain, forcing a muffled sob from your throat, pain becoming overwhelming. 

He circles you for a moment, sneering with jagged teeth bared. A predator sizing up his fallen prey. Disgust is apparent in his eyes; he hates you. It only lasts a moment before he throws one leg over you, leaning down and straddling your prone form, firm hand gripped on your chin. 

“I’m going to kill you, little hero. It’s going to hurt. But before I do, I want you to know that I’m going to kill them as well. Can’t have the next generation of heroes using you as a martyr now can we?” 

Fear is palpable from behind you. Between the rumbles of thunder, you can hear the crying and pleading. None try to run- they’re surrounded- trapped by villains that circle around them like ravenous wolves. 

You can’t let him do this. You can’t let him hurt them!

“Wait! Please!-” Your mind runs at unforgiving speed, head pulsing and pounding with pain and panic. “Don’t hurt them! Take me instead.”

He scoffs, gripping you by the collar and yanking you up slightly off the ground. “I already told you I was going to kill you. Are you some kind of idiot or something?”

“You can take me back with you. I won’t fight you. You can torture me or kill me or use me as bait. I won’t put up a fight. I’ll go willingly if you please just-” A small hiccup in your chest, knowing you mean every word and the weight it carries. “-Just please let them go. They’re just kids.”

He seems unimpressed, but there’s a small flash across his eyes, one you recognize. Your submission to him in front of all these people, your students, strokes his ego. You swallow down another sob, desperately trying to contain the shivers that wrack your limbs. 

“Please, Shigaraki. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

His eyes narrow, studying your face and then further down your body, gaze lingering on less than appropriate places for far too long for you not to understand where his mind has steered him. “Whatever I want, huh? That’s a pretty stupid thing to say when you don’t know what I’ll ask for.” 

You’re fairly certain now what it is he wants, and if it saves the lives of the innocents behind you, you’ll lock away your pride and your dignity and whatever else you need to if it keeps them safe. Shigaraki Tomura is a man after all, and ultimately men are simple creatures with even more simple desires. With a shaky gesture, you lift your palm up from the ground and place it gently on his own hand that grips your collar. 

“Anything.” 

His eyes widen, and for a moment, his expression falters. He looks confused, flustered even. Given your close proximity, you can even see the blush blossoming in his cheeks and down his neck. He looks almost innocent in this second, like a school boy faced with his first crush. You imagine he almost certainly didn’t expect you to acquiesce, let alone encourage his line of thinking. 

Disbelief. He looks like he doesn’t believe you.

You slowly push up towards him and his fist tightens on your clothing. He expects an ambush. That you’ll get his guard down with your seductions and then strike when he’s lost in the fog. A good tactic, but in this scenario, it sports a one hundred percent chance of failure. Shigaraki is an excellent fighter, and an even more impressive strategist. The only winning move is the one he has never planned for. 

Before he can recoil, you smash your lips against his. 

You can feel his breath hitch, eyes widening in total incredulity. For the first time in nearly his entire life, Tomura Shigaraki is at a complete loss. The hoots and hollers from the low lives under his command mesh into the sounds of the storm that rages around you, but you shove down the humiliation and defeat. Being a hero means saving them- No matter what the cost to you.

When he finally finds the mind to kiss you back, it’s the antithesis of everything he stands for. It’s meek and gentle, almost fragile in nature. It’s painfully apparent he doesn’t know a thing about what he’s doing, but he indulges none the less. His tongue slips across your lips and you’re prepared to take the hit but he pulls away as suddenly as he accepted it. 

“Fine-” He huffs, breathless as he pulls you both callously to your feet, ignoring the agonizing wound laced across your ribs. The pain is too much and you almost fall but he catches you with a strange amount of consideration. He doesn’t quite carry you- That would look weak after all- but he takes a considerable amount of strain off of your body as he keeps you upright.

”Leave the brats. They’re useless.” He commands his small platoon away to some measure of disappointment from them. “I got what I came for anyway.” 

[kootiepatra]

#FFxivWrite2022 - Day 18: Extra Credit - "View"

This idea has haunted me ever since I realized I first shipped them. I do not have the drawing chops to draw it like I see it. Maybe I don't have the writing chops, either, but it seemed like an opportune day to give it a whirl.

========================

It was rare indeed to see denizens of mankind in Dravania—rarer still for them to make their way through Mourn and up towards the Churning Mists. Yet three such figures walked along that path this afternoon. The Warrior of Light took point, glancing around for threats, and mentally charting a route that would invite the least conflict with the locals. Yet despite her vigil, a light smile was on her face as she listened to the conversation behind her.

Alphinaud was doing what he did so well: talking. But where not so long ago Keimwyda would have been reminding herself to be patient with him—after all, he was still but a very young man—she was now quite impressed. He had taken much to heart through the trials of this past chapter of their lives, and his newfound humility worked miracles on his ease as a conversation partner. Aymeric seemed to be enjoying the chatter alongside him, at any rate.

It was still somewhat surreal to be making this trek together. Although the lord commander had more than once expressed a desire to join the Scions on the field—and even more often, expressed his guilt that they labored on his behalf while he stayed behind—this was the first proper foray on which he could join them. No matter how much he had tried in the past, something had always gotten in the way. Keimwyda could still remember the sparks in his eyes when Estinien had all but tied him to his chair to prevent him from joining their first fight with Nidhogg. A pang of fond sadness lodged in her heart as she thought of it.

Estinien, if you are still in there, hang on.

She let the two Elezen chat between themselves as she scouted. The end of the climb to the Churning Mists was near. It was a perfect place for an ambush, should there be one. She must focus. Besides, she enjoyed listening to them anyway.

She pushed ahead a few more paces, and peered through the rounded gate—the handiwork of moogle design, if she had to guess. She raised a hand to halt her companions.

“Is aught amiss?” Aymeric asked with concern.

“Just looking,” she replied, scanning the horizon. She stepped into the sunlight beyond, checking for any blind corners. Everything seemed safe enough. “I do believe we are clear,” she announced, smiling and waving them forward.

“My thanks,” Aymeric said, returning the smile.

“As I was saying…” Alphinaud said, picking up precisely where he left off. 

The lad was explaining at length to the lord commander what he should expect, striving to impress upon him the majesty of the ruins, as well as preparing him for the disposition Hrasevelgr was like to be in. Some of it was probably information Aymeric already knew, but he was nonetheless agreeably gracious in reply.

Keimwyda backed away from the gate and watched the two ascend. Alphinaud had traveled this route as many times as she, but this was Aymeric’s first journey here. She was curious how he would react to it.

He squinted his eyes a bit as he adjusted to the light of the outdoors—but then widened them as he drank in the view that stretched out before him. She wondered if he realized that his jaw had gone slack. Alphinaud certainly didn’t. He kept right on talking, but Keimwyda suspected that Aymeric had ceased to hear him.

And who could blame him? She herself had her breath stolen away the first time she beheld this place. The graceful, curving winged sculptures stood tall, looming larger than life, yet seemingly effortlessly floating on the airborne isles. The weight of history was palpable, as the testimonies of a millennium past rang out silently through these ruins—ruins which were in remarkable condition, all things considered, having been largely untouched for generations.

And of course, Hraesvelgr’s lair dominated the center of the landscape. Its pale blue walls gently curled upwards, as if petals of a flower just beginning to bloom, or perhaps icy flames frozen in time. Its height was dizzying. It seemed to scrape against the heavens themselves.

Aymeric kept staring, and walked silently towards the edge of the mountain, transfixed. Keimwyda moved up beside him and let herself enjoy the spectacle all over again. She loved being able to see familiar sights with fresh eyes. The scene was awash with the golden light of the late afternoon, making it seem all the richer.

She glanced over at Aymeric. He had not moved. This moment must be somewhat complex for him, she assumed. While he had been quick and willing to accept the truth of Ishgard’s dark history, it was one thing to believe it, and another thing altogether to see it spelled out in stone like this. As if that weren’t enough, this was the home of a living eyewitness of the events, someone who still ached with the pain of betrayal.

It was beautiful, though. 

Keimwyda felt that was what she saw in Aymeric’s face the most. She appreciated that he was taking his time. His blue eyes shone with a wonder she had not seen on him before. She smiled. It was endearing. She almost wanted to reach over and take his hand.

But of course, that would be far too familiar of her. She dismissed the urge with nary a second thought, but continued to observe his wonderment. She was glad he had been able to come. He was a good man, and he was pouring himself out selflessly on behalf of his people every day. It felt right that he should at least be treated to a beautiful view now and then.

Her own view was not so bad, either, she supposed.

Before she had time to process that she had really just thought that to herself, she was startled as his eyes turned to meet hers, each person sharing the sideways glance. Twelve preserve. She felt flustered for reasons she did not understand and flung her gaze back to the landscape. Her emotions tumbled over themselves in confusion and she thought of nothing but regaining her calm—that, and hoping she had not taken on a blush like it felt like she might have. 

Somewhere, in the background, Alphinaud was finishing his sentence, and finally cottoning on to the fact that his traveling companions’ attention was elsewise engaged.

“Ah, yes,” he said, joining them at the precipice. “Welcome to the Churning Mists, Ser Aymeric. A remarkable sight, is it not?”

“A most beautiful view indeed,” he replied. Keimwyda only saw him in her peripheral—she was still attempting to avoid eye contact—but she could have sworn that although he was answering Alphinaud, he was still looking at her.

Don’t be ridiculous, she thought to herself. Perhaps it was the altitude getting to her. 

She let her gaze linger on the unparalleled vista for another calming moment. “It still does not cease to amaze me,” she answered at last, turning back to the others. “Well, then. Shall we proceed?”

“I am ready if you are,” Aymeric replied. “Pray lead on.”

[shartlord420]

Reversed Sun AU - The Hospital Confrontation

Neither Naoto nor Tohru really wanted to believe it. After all, Narukami had been their ally through all of this- not every adult would have taken this sort of thing so seriously. But he actually heard them out, he gave them the chance to prove what they knew to be true. Not every adult listens and cares like that.

But maybe that was their first sign that it just too good to be true.

Even still, even with the only shred of evidence they could find pointing in Narukami's direction... it was still a difficult theory to swallow. The glow of luminol... there were other possibilities. It wasn't necissarily blood. Or even if it was... surely the injury that Morooka recieved would have left a bigger stain.

There was still room for other possibilities. They didn't need to go directly to the police.

Perhaps pride played a part. (How could this all happen right underneath the detective prince's nose? Right in front of all of them? Were they really that blind?)

And more than likely loyalty did as well. To point fingers at one you called an ally... at the very least you have to give them the chance to defend themselves, right?

The hospital never had a particularly pleasant energy to it, devoid of warmth and filled with a mild sense of dread. There was a guilt that trailed along with them as they headed to where they knew Narukami would be. Tearing him away from Nanako's bedside felt almost cruel, but it was necessary. This question couldn't hang in the air above them like a guillotine any longer.

Just a few questions. Narukami could answer them easily, wave away any doubt they had. Relief could settle on their shoulders, and they'd feel silly for even considering the thought of Narukami of all people being the one responsible for all of this.

Questions are met with hesitation. Silence that stretches for seconds too long. Uncertain answers, avoidance of the subject, and questions of intent. Narukami seems unable to hold eye contact. He'd been off ever since Nanako and Dojima had been rescued from the TV world, but this was something else.

It did nothing to relieve their doubts. It did nothing to discourage the suspicion. If anything, it only made it worse.

They should be easy enough questions to answer.

It should be easy.

Easy for anyone who's innocent. Easy for anyone who didn't have something to hide.

But the defensive dodginess of Narukami's answers... it feels like guilt.

"... I apologize, but I... I really don't think I can handle all of this right now. I need to get back to Nanako."

Narukami always seemed so open, but there's no denying that he is nothing but closed off right now. It's like there's a wall between them.

They stand their ground though. Naoto more than anything, honestly. Perhaps it's the pride of a detective. They aren't backing down from this. There can be no hesitation when pursuing the truth, and if this is really the truth, there is no way they can let this go.

"Your capability to handle this is irrelevant here. This is not an optional discussion, Narukami-san."

And Narukami finally meets Naoto's gaze, but there's something not quite right. The look in his eyes is unfamiliar.

Naoto can't recall another time his eyes looked quite so cold.

And he steps forward, and he's always been taller than the both of them, certainly, but this was the first time it was almost viscerally palpable.

"So you're going to... what? Stop me?"

Narukami's voice is cold, and there's almost something mocking there. His words feel like a threat.

But the look in his eyes is gone almost as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that same guilt from before- an almost apologetic wince, and the smallest hint of fear.

He seems like he wants to say something more.

But he doesn't. He pushes past the two of them and doesn't look back.

[wanderlustinwonderland18]

Stepanova & Bukin: “Our Fans Really Want Us To Be Together”

How do you feel about being the new Russian National Champions?

Vanya: Wow! To be honest, we didn't get enough sleep. It was a busy time. We sat, talked with the team, discussed a lot. This was our first competition in a long time, so we were a little exhausted.

Sasha: So far, we don't really feel that something major has happened, but the assessment of our coaches is very important for us. They didn't know how we would perform. Yes, the coaches did everything to make us perform well. But from the very start, everything depended only on us... And we managed to perform well so many thanks to our team for this.

Vanya: In general, we liked everything very much. We missed the audience a lot and we hope to perform somewhere else soon. Yes, there are nerves, but they are very pleasant nerves. Competition is great.

Is this national title the main award of your career?

Sasha: No. We have silver and bronze medals from European Championships. We have also performed well at World Championships. The situation here is completely different in all aspects. We had a different task... But overall, we are very pleased with the title of Russian National Champions.

Vanya: Yes, indeed, this is the first time for us. The support was great. Even though the arena was only 35 percent capacity, we felt incredible warmth.

Is the lack of vivid emotions due to the fact your main competitors were not here?

Sasha: Yes, many skaters were missing in Chelyabinsk. It’s a pity that this is the case. We, ourselves, were not able to participate in early competitions such as the Grand Prix in Moscow.

Vanya: For instance, Dima Aliev did not compete here although we were expecting him. We are friends with him, and we communicate a lot. We hope to meet the entire Russian team after the New Year.

Did this situation personally blur the impression of the Russian Championships?

Sasha: Of course. In addition, the federation indicated that this is not the final selection for the World Championships. We simply perceived it as a certain stage where we need to show what we are capable of.

Vanya: On the other hand, the fact that it was our first competition in a long time added more importance to it.

Is it a shame that Europeans got cancelled, while everything goes well in other sports?

Vanya: Of course, it's upsetting.

Sasha: I don’t really follow what is happening in other sports, but the cancellation of our Europeans was not a surprise. Everything pointed towards this direction gradually. We were ready for this news. We understand that holding a competition in such conditions is difficult and unsafe.

How do you feel now?

Sasha: I’m good now, thanks.

Vanya: Yes, we have already recovered.

You guys joked at the press conference that you were unlucky, because you were ill with COVID at different times.

(Sasha and Vanya laugh)

Sasha: Well, yes, we were really out of luck.

How did this happen? You spend so much time together.

Sasha: At first, I just caught a cold. There was bronchitis or something like that. I got better and then fell ill again, but with COVID. I don't know why that happened, but after I got sick, the coaches and Vanya fell ill.

Vanya: Why this happened is still a mystery to us. It is very incomprehensible.

How did you handle the disease?

Vanya: It was not easy. I had palpable lung damage. The temperature was monitored for a very long time, and the dose of antibiotics was quite strong. The hardest part is not how I got sick, but how I went back to the ice. It was very strange and a little scary.

Sasha: You may be fine at home, but as soon as you go out on the ice, you immediately start coughing due to the cold air and the slightest exertion. Usually for us, skating in circles is nothing at all... But after the illness, the body perceives it as a serious threat and reacts instantly. It is scary. You start thinking: "How am I going to skate now?"

Did it come to hospitalizations?

Sasha and Vanya: No.

Vanya: Fortunately, it didn't come to that. I didn't have extreme temperatures (around 37.5 to 38 only). The only problem is that it lasted a long time. Sasha’s condition was different though. High temperatures in the beginning, but the illness quickly disappeared.

Sasha: In my case, it started with a common cold, then the whole body began to ache. I came back from training and it felt like someone was breaking all my bones from the inside. Then, body temperature began to rise. The maximum was over 39. I immediately took antibiotics. The state itself was unpleasant - you go to the kitchen, or to the bathroom and you are already very tired. You also hear how you breathe.

Sasha, I looked at your Instagram and came to the conclusion that you love black and white tones. Why is that?

Sasha: In black and white, there is...

Vanya: Magic.

Sasha: Yes, some kind of charm. Many photographs look better in black and white. I like the lines and shadows.

Do you hear from fans a lot?

Sasha: Very much! Just yesterday, one fan gave gifts through the coaches. She loves our group very much, follows us to all competitions. From my understanding, she is not alone. It is just her who communicates with us. I called for a photo session, but unfortunately, this has not yet happened because of the virus situation. But yes, they write a lot! They post stories, write long messages. Sometimes I read and tears come, people give a lot of themselves. You think how this is possible. Many are busy with family and work, but they take time for us.

Vanya: Most of the times, they post our reactions to performances. This has already become a meme! We have been compared to animals. Sasha recently reposted a picture where I am a dog who smiles, and she is a serious cat. In many shots, myself and Irina Vasilievna (Zhuk) are explosive, and Sasha and Alexander Vasilievich (Svinin) are more restrained. It’s cool and funny!

Does this reflect your nature?

Vanya: I’m probably more emotional after performances. I keep everything to myself so much that it just breaks at the end. Sasha, on the other hand, gives so much to the performances and at the end, she has nothing left.

Are you offended by any comments?

Vanya: Some comments are very interesting. There have certainly been times where I wanted to respond, but realized that it was pointless. It is nonsense.

Sasha: Because you will be invested in it.

Vanya: Now, I laugh at such comments. If a person doesn't like something and expresses their opinion, please, especially if it is really constructive criticism. When you see that this is not the first time a person has written, and really understands figure skating, you can listen to this... But there are some that just write for the sake of saying something.

Sasha: Yes, there are some who throw out unnecessary emotions based on nothing.

Has it ever happened that thanks to a person's comment, you changed something in your performance?

Vanya: A couple of times.

Sasha: It is not with regards to steps and technical issues though. Most comments are like “I want power, brightness.” At such moments, you can reconsider and decide that, indeed, something is missing somewhere.

It happens that unpleasant things are written by fans of other teams.

Vanya: I'm okay with this, but if you like another couple, why are you writing under our post? Go to your guys and write good things.

Sasha, you are sometimes compared to Victoria Sinitsina? Are you okay with this?

Sasha: Yes, absolutely! We sometimes laugh about our similarities. We also have common views on wardrobe sometimes.

What about the comments that you and Vanya would make a good pair in real life?

Sasha: It's fun too.

Vanya: On one hand, that is a compliment because it means that we can show real emotions on the ice. People believe in our story and think that we are also together behind the scenes... But we have already said many times that we are not a couple in real life, so it is quite strange when people ask about this.

Sasha: It's very cute though!

Vanya: Those who have been with us for a long time know that we are not together, but our fans really want us to be together.

Do you follow the situation regarding Russia's two-year sentence? You guys already had some bad experiences in the past with this decision.

Sasha: Yes, we heard this news. As far as I understand, the consequences could be much worse - all athletes from Russia could be expelled indiscriminately. They could say, "Russia, goodbye." But we are still allowed to compete. Let it be without the anthem at the World Championships and the Olympics, but on our form, the name of the country can still be written. This is already pleasant for us. I do not know all the little details, but in this situation, I want to find something positive.

Vanya: Of course, we are upset, because this is our country. We would very much like to perform with the flag and anthem. But the decision has been made, and nothing can be done. We will calmly prepare for all the major competitions. It remains to be seen how athletes will be admitted to the Olympics.

What would you change in ice dance to make it more popular?

Vanya: Ice Dance is a very creative sport. Everything should look simple, easy, and unpredictable with us. In my opinion, to make our sport more popular, teams must be given more freedom for creativity. Then, the couples will not be alike. We have many rules that do not allow us to go beyond.

Sasha: In general, the rules are made for judges. Previously, ice dance judging was based on "like it or not like it."

Do you have long-term career plans?

Vanya: This season has shown that it is difficult to plan the future. We have decided to live day by day, and prepare for specific events. There have been many times where we plan a lot, and in the end, the plan does not come true.

Do you think about life after sports?

Sasha: I do not have any serious thoughts. Maybe participate in shows, but there are no specific plans. However, I can definitely say that I want to stay in figure skating and take a new role in the sport. For now, we still have a lot to accomplish. We have just reached the top level. We have just started receiving recognition from the audience.

Vanya: And we are very grateful to our fans. When new broke out that we were sick, many wrote to us and supported us. It is really motivating!

Do you have plans for the New Year holidays?

Sasha: I would like to go to the skating rink in front of the Red Square. I have never been to massive street skating rinks, so I want to feel this atmosphere.

Vanya: Oh cool! Let's go and invite everyone!

A small wish to your fans at the end of the interview?

Sasha: Health and love. Be happy no matter what. Live everyday.

Vanya: To make all your dreams come true in the New Year.

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

pero rescuing reader from the witch trial and in the aftermath she finally reveals the truth to him + "I think it'd be easier if you were indeed a witch" - fleetwood xoxo

*How about the scene where he rescues her from the witch trials and she tells him everything for the Tovar AU? --anon

*Isn’t there a part where they accuse her of being a witch and Pero is gone?? for the pero outlander au what about the scene where she says she’s from the future? love your writing! --anon

*Pero saving her please --anon

Another one that was asked for a few times... Pairing: Tovar x Reader (Outlander AU) Warning: language, public nudity, witch trials, fear, hurt/comfort [Completed Prompt Masterlist] [Tovar Promptfest Info/list]

How had everything gone so badly so fast? Pero and William had left and within three days time you had managed to wind up in prison. You didn’t know anyone in this stupid time and it was so rare that anyone was nice to you that when the shop keeper invited you over for afternoon tea, you accepted. Tovar had warned you, he had warned you to stay away from her, that she was nothing but trouble and the townspeople all despised her--you didn’t listen. 

The townspeople didn’t just despise her, they thought she was a witch. They sought out her herbs and medicines and when they didn’t work or something unrelated went wrong, she was an easy scapegoat. It didn’t help matters that she was incredibly beautiful. With flaming red curls to her waist and pointed features, every woman for ten miles was certain she was trying to seduce their husbands. And husbands caught in bouts of their own lust would blame her for casting a spell on them. 

It was all so ridiculous that when you had been arrested, clapped in irons and accused, you had laughed in their faces. That certainly didn’t help your case. 

“...of witchcraft and crimes against god the almighty. Of animal sacrifice and salacious behavior-...”

“Oh, give me a fucking break,” you rolled your eyes and twisted your wrists in your bindings as they read your charges. All of them were of course untrue. 

“You bite your tongue, harlot,” the judge said as he looked at you with fire in his eyes.

“What does it even matter?” you tossed your arms as far as you could. “You’ve already decided I’m guilty.”

“Witches aren’t allowed to speak while on trial.”

“Well which is it?” you snapped. “Am I a harlot or a witch? And I’ll speak if I god damn please.”

“Your husband should strike that foul mouth of yours--”

“My husband,” you sneered, wishing anything that the man in question was here right now. “Is a hired killer and a guest of the Emperor’s so, you better pray that he doesn’t find out what you’ve done.”

“Is that a threat?” the old man asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a promise.”

--

Unsurprisingly, they had found you guilty on all charges. And after forcing you to watch the public execution of the shopkeeper, they threw you back into the jail cell, which was nothing more than a rocky cavern with iron bars hammered into the entrance. You had spent the night in the dark, cold, and absolutely terrified. You missed Tovar, and couldn’t help but wonder if he would miss you once you were gone.

“Wait--wait!” you screamed as one of the guards grabbed you and threw you down onto the wooden platform in the village square. People yelled, called you names, and threw things. Your heart hammered so fast against your ribs that you were sure they would break. 

“Whore!”

“Witch!”

When the guard tried to hold you still, you fought him so hard that it tore your bodice. You frantically held your arms to your chest and kept the material covering what you could. Your head snapped up as the crowd started to part and the thunder of horse hooves and someone shouting your name made the chaos quiet down. 

Tovar hopped down from the saddle as William brought up the rear on his own horse and drew back his bow, aiming at the center of the chest of the man that had his hands on you.

“I’d let go of her if I were you,” William said as his eyes followed the line down the arrow. 

“Pero,” you whimpered and jerked your arms free. You ran to him the second you were let go and almost stumbled in your need to reach him as fast as you could. 

“Hermosa,” he breathed as you collided with his chest and he put his arms around you. He dug his dagger out of his belt and you held out your hands for him to cut threw the rope around your wrists. “Are you alright?”

“Get me out of here,” was all you could say as he threw his cloak over your shoulders and helped you up onto his horse. 

“Soldiers, are you aware you are helping a witch??” one of the guards called out.

Pero pulled himself up onto the horse behind you, wrapping a strong arm around your waist as he turned to the guard and sneered. Without a word, he leaned over and spat at the man’s feet before kicking his heels to make the animal jerk forward. 

William followed suit and the three of you rode as fast as you could away from that horrible village. 

--

You rode in silence for hours. The sun started to set in the west as you leaned back against the man who still held onto you tightly. His silence was almost palpable but you knew he wasn’t angry with you, this was...something else. 

William pulled up to the two of you after scouting ahead and looked at Pero with a nod. “I’ll meet you both at the ravine. Take your time.” 

Pero nodded and clicked his tongue, pulling on the reigns on the horse, moving the both of you closer to the creek bed that was babbling quietly. He waited for the horse to be on flat ground before he slid from the saddle and tied it off to graze in the grass. He held his arms up for you to help you down and you leaned into his touch.

“Thank you,” you whispered as he helped you sit on a fallen tree by the water. You rubbed your arms and watched as he ripped a piece of cloth from his pouch and put it in the water. He knelt in front of you and gingerly took your hands in his, cleaning off the dirt, scrapes, and events of the last few days. You winced when he got to your wrists where the shackles had dug into your tender skin and he cursed quietly under his breath.

“Not you, corazón,” he mumbled and shook his head. 

“I know,” you nodded quietly and your eyes burned as you swallowed a sudden wave of oncoming tears. “I’m sorry--”

“I told you to lay low.” He grit his teeth. 

“I said I was sorry.”

“You didn’t listen to me,” he said gruffly, not looking up from your hands.

“I know.”

“You never do.”

“I..I know.” Your voice trembled so violently you were worried your teeth would start chattering. “Pero--”

“What would have happened if I didn’t come back sooner than planned?” He asked flatly. When you didn’t respond he gripped your hands tightly and looked up at you. “Hermosa, I’m going to ask you something and I need you to tell me the truth.”

“What?” you said.

“Are you a witch?” he raised an eyebrow and you fought the urge not to bark out a bitter laugh.

“How can you ask me that?”

“I feel like I have a right to know,” he continued his stern look that matched his tone. “I know you have secrets from me and I’ve never pushed you to tell me them--but I will ask you not to lie to me. As your husband, I’m owed at least that.”

You couldn’t blame him. From the day you fell out of nowhere onto the battlefield, to the day he saved you from the enemy, to the day he made you his bride to save you again--Pero Tovar had taken a lot on faith. He took only what you wanted to tell him, knowing you couldn’t give him the whole story but trusting that you would never keep things from him that could get the both of you killed. Maybe now was the time. 

You took your hands from his and stood up, pacing up and down the side of the river as you tried to keep what was left of your tattered bodice in place. He sat down in your previous spot on the log, looking at you with those soft brown eyes that you were so fond of. And that’s when you decided to tell him the truth. 

Everything. You told him everything. About the future. About you. About how you had picked up a glittering stone in the middle of the desert on a dig site and then wound up flat on your back in the middle of a battle in a time that was not your own. You told him about war, about technologies, about the rise and fall of empires--at least those you could remember. You talked for hours. And he listened. 

You talked until your throat hurt and you couldn’t stand to talk anymore. Finally you turned to him and crossed your arms under your breasts and hoped with everything you had left in you that he didn’t think you were lying. That he didn’t think you were a crazy person. And more importantly, you hoped that this didn’t make him abandon you.

“Well?” you finally said as you walked over and sat down heavily next to him.

“Well, what?” he huffed and your heart sunk to your stomach.

“Say something, please.”

“I think,” he started, finally lifting his head to look you in the eyes. His lip twitched slightly, making his mustache move as he gave you a small grin. “I think it would be easier if you were a witch, hermosa…”

You gaped at him for a moment before you let out a laugh. The tightness in your chest eased as he pulled you against his chest. You gripped his shirt tightly and inhaled his scent that you had been unknowingly craving for the last few days. As long as he believed you, maybe everything would be okay?

--

[miracle-sham]

Amidst the Howls of Death, Your Divinity Gives Me Breath.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 1, Day 2: Protection} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] | | [Spotify Playlist Link] |

| Marinette, Jason, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian are all unfortunately familiar with how danger lurks around every corner in places like these. But perhaps their instincts can be ignored for just one evening of rest? |

| Or a Priestess, a Gunslinger, and his family, walk into a creepy inn. |

| Word Count: 2,789. |

| Warnings/Tags: Swearing/Explicit Language, Mild Gothic Horror, Implied/Referenced Background/Minor Character Death, Pretend Character Death, Fantasy & Magic Au, Romantic Fluff, Sharing a Room/Bed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kissing. |

———

| A/N: Another fic with a playlist, so check it out if you're curious to the songs I listened to when writing this! And have look in the end notes if you want to read a short descrip of what inspired this piece! |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics or a specific Au, then feel free to send me a dm and or ask! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

As soon as Marinette, Jason, and his family had entered the ramshackle hamlet, they all could tell without a doubt that there was something not quite... right about the place.

Even in the dying light of the day, it was obvious that every window and door were boarded up. A few even had stone or iron bars nailed or soldered across any and all potential points of entry—chimneys included. Some buildings were half-collapsed beneath the weight of their own rotting timbers, others looked unnaturally clean and newly constructed, most however were somewhere between the two extremes. But regardless of how new or decrepit the buildings appeared, each and every single one had at least some form of large scratching or claw marks gouged into the wood and stonework.

The first thing the Wayne family and Marinette had all agreed upon, was acquiring rooms for the night from the only inn in the hamlet. One of the nicer buildings albeit, but just as foreboding in its own sense due to the deeper and more extensive scratch and claw marks along the exterior.

Inside, the innkeeper was undoubtedly strange, eyeing them each with an odd look in his eyes, and an empty grin. Giving him an off-putting appearance that certainly wasn't helped by his slow and methodical cleaning of kitchen knives, from just behind the bar.

Wheezing, the innkeeper tilted his head to one side, staring the family of six down. Voice like gravel, he rasped. “Tread carefully 'round these parts, travellers. There's been tales of your kind vanishing in the dark, followed by the howls.”

“Our kind? What do you mean by our kind?” Dick questioned sharply, narrowing his eyes and subtly curling his hands into fists by his sides—hidden by his deep blue cloak.

“The howls? What howls?” Tim asked curiously, a few seconds after Dick, eyes twinkling with the thrill of a mystery to unravel.

The innkeeper chuckled. “Curious lot, aren't you. I'm afraid that won't do you any good 'ere.”

“Is that a threat?” Bruce rumbled, adjusting his pose ever so slightly to put himself between his four sons plus pseudo-daughter in law, and the innkeeper. So that should anything happen, he would be first in the line of fire instead.

“Not if you pay for rooms tonight, stay quiet, and watch yourselves from straying in the dark.” The innkeeper replied, still grinning emptily as his chuckled subsided.

Tim ducked around Bruce's side to stare at the innkeeper. “You didn't answer our other questions! What do you mean by our kind and why did the previous travellers disappear followed by howls! How did you know that the howls follow disappearances?”

The innkeeper pulled out a whetstone and began sharpening the knives without looking, as his gaze snapped to Tim. “I only answer questions from paying customers, boy.”

“Father! I do not wish to stay somewhere as suspicious as this contemptible establishment.” Damian hissed, keeping his voice low as to avoid the hearing of the innkeeper, and tugged on the edge of Bruce's black cloak.

Jason edged a hand towards the hilt of one of his flintlocks. He leaned closer to Marinette to whisper in her ear. “For once, sweet priestess, I'm with the demon spawn, I don't want to stay here any longer than strictly necessary. This wretched fucking place reeks of ancient necrotic magic.” He wrinkled his nose before adding, “and not your goddess' other half's kind of ancient necrotic magic.”

Marinette frowned, glancing around the inn with ill ease. “I can feel what you mean, my dear knight. Whatever is causing the necrotic magic is definitely not holy by any means. But as far as I can tell, the magic was stronger outside, it's almost muted somewhat in here.”

“Forgive me, sweet priestess, but that doesn't ease my nerves at all.” Jason scoffed.

She rolled her eyes with a quiet snort of laughter, “I wasn't trying to, my dear red hooded knight.” She steeled herself slightly, mirth fading, “though what I am suggesting, is that we purchase rooms for the night. Whatever the source of the magic, we're most likely safer in here than out there. There are no claw marks on the inside after all.”

“For the record, I hate when you're right about these things, my holiness.” He growled, glancing around to confirm her statement.

“You say that as if I hate it any less than you.” Marinette countered, “now let's go intervene before another impending scuffle gets us kicked out of what is possibly our only safe shelter for the eve.”

“And miss out on free entertainment? I cannot believe you.” Jason snickered.

She shoved him good-naturedly before striding past Bruce and up to the counter, imposing in her own right even in comparison to the rest of the family. She cleared her throat to draw attention to herself and stared down the innkeeper with all the sharpness of a storming sea upon rocks. “You will answer all our questions if we purchase rooms, correct?”

The innkeeper squinted at Marinette. “Aye, girl.”

She pursed her lips then nodded. “How much for lodgings then?”

“We've got a room with a double bed, three with a single, and two twin rooms.” The innkeeper responded, empty grin curling into something more twisted, “The singles are a gold each per night, the rest are two gold each per night.”

“That pricing is outrageous!” Damian scowled.

Narrowing her eyes, she ignored Damian and hummed. “I see,” she glanced back at Jason and raised an eyebrow.

He nodded in return.

“Then I will purchase the room with the double bed.” She stated, plucking two gold coins from her purse and placing them upon the bar counter.

The innkeeper nodded, sliding two keys over to her. “Excellent choice, my lady, your room is on the left at the very end of the corridor upstairs.”

Jason prickled at the addressing title given to her, gripping the hilt of the gun he had reached for with whitening knuckles.

Marinette picked up the keys and stared coolly at the innkeeper before taking a few deliberate steps back until she was once more beside Jason. There, she handed him one of the keys.

Silence permeated the room for a minute as the rest of the family communicated through glances and facial movements alone.

Bruce sighed, breaking the stalemate, and placed four gold coins on the counter as well. “We'll take two singles and a twin as well.”

The innkeeper chuckled, passing four more keys over. “Wise decisions, Traveller. The twin room is the last door on the right along the corridor upstairs, and the two singles are the first two doors on both sides.”

“Now answer our questions,” Dick demanded.

The innkeeper glowered at Dick. “What I meant by your kind, was that you're the kind of folk who trouble follows. The travellers that poke their noses where they don't belong. And as for the howls, I wouldn't know. I've never seen what makes it because I stay inside where it is safe. Those who don't stay inside... well their screams, remaining bloody streaks, and disappearances are evidence enough for me.”

Marinette grimaced. “I am going to retire to the room now.”

Jason startled at her words and stared at her concern. “I'll, uh, join you. If you don't mind.”

“You don't have to for my sake.” She responded.

“It would ease my conscience if you weren't to go up alone.” He grit out.

She bowed her head for a second, “then your company would be most appreciated.” She began to make her way towards the stairs up to the rooms.

Before she reached the first step, the innkeeper called out. “My apologies, my holy lady, I did not intend to discuss such gruesome conversations before you that would offend your delicate holy constitution.”

“I appreciate your concern, however, I think you will find it was not my delicate holy constitution that was offended, as much as it was the wish for some privacy after a long and tedious journey. Thank you very much.” She spat in response, voice as acetic as an alchemist's corrosive acid.

The innkeeper raised his hands in a placating manner. “My sincerest apologies then, my lady.”

Marinette took that as a cue to continue upstairs, with Jason on her heels.

Once they reached the door, Jason snarled. “How dare that fucking bastard call you his lady, I'm going to put a bullet through his fucking skull.”

She sighed and went up onto her tiptoes so that she could place a kiss on his lips. “Perhaps wait until after we sort out the cause of the ancient necrotic magic plaguing this place. Though I'd like to rip his tongue out his mouth before you get to have your fun.”

Jason unwound marginally beneath the kiss, his fury was still palpable, however. “Hmm, I would like to watch you do that, my love.”

“Of course you would. Now, let's enjoy some much-needed privacy together. As much as I adore your family, there is only so much time spent travelling I can spend with them without wanting some peace and quiet to cherish you, my knight.” She remarked, opening the door with the key in the meantime.

———

Lounging upon the double bed, Marinette hummed as she gently carded her fingers through Jason's hair—his head resting on her lap and a soft smile gracing his face as he gazed up at her.

She paused her humming, face creases in mild displeasure, as a loose lock of her hair fell across her face. After a few half-hearted attempts to blow it out of the way, she closed her eyes and sighed—fingers twitching to a stop.

Jason raised an eyebrow and reached a hand up to her face, cupping her cheek for a few moments before tucking the loose lock of her hair back behind her ear. “Something on your mind, sweet priestess?”

“Ah. No, not really, no. I was just…” She sighs, lips twisting with faint distress, her earlier mask of determination faltering in the privacy of their room. “I'm worried about you. About this place. It's not safe and I'm worried if we fight anything here, whether it be the cause of the howls, a godforsaken Akuma, or even those creepy fanatics again, you're not going to make it—survive another close call.” She inhaled sharply. “I dread to think that should it come to it, the resurrection rituals won't work for you any longer.” Tears springing to her eyes as she voiced her doubts.

Jason frowned, “Oh,” He fumbled for words, shifting himself up into a sitting position so he could properly cup both sides of her face, and pull her into a gentle kiss on the lips. Pulling back, he took a deep breath, “oh, my holiness. Oh, my love. As long as I've been by your side, you've never let me fall, and your goddess and her pantheon don't seem like they'll let me die anytime before you. Not after the deal we struck, and I promise you, my priestess, that I don't intend on ever breaking that deal.”

“I know my knight, I know.” Marinette mumbled, tugging Jason into a tight hug as soon as he pulled away from the kiss, “but will there be a choice? Have you not forgotten your revival sickness we've yet to find or create a cure for? And not to mention the rumours about what has happened to the others who were also brought back by that awful Lich!”

Grimacing, he idly rubbed the back of his neck. “How could I fucking forget, I've hurt everyone I care about, especially you, thanks to that…”

She hummed once more. “And yet, none of us blame you for that, my love.”

“You should.” He argued weakly.

“I will never!” She retorted.

Their conversation lulled as they relished in the other's embrace.

Minutes passed before Marinette pulled away from the hug. She huffed, fingers twitching and nose scrunching up. “Jason, my red hooded knight, and love of my life.”

Jason squinted at her, “Yes…?”

“Wou— Can— What if I—.” She frowned, searching for her words, before settling on words she knew by ritual. “It would ease my mind if you were to be bestowed with some form of protection magic. Would you accept such a blessing from me?”

He remained silent for a few moments. “Of course I would, sweet priestess. I trust you, and I trust your goddess and her pantheon.” He closed his eyes and glanced away. “But shouldn't you save that magic for yourself, or when we're out in the fucking fray.”

“My powers will replenish come dawn, and the protection will last until then. I'd rather be certain in knowing you'll be safe whilst we sleep here.” Marinette answered, leaning forwards to cup his face in her hands.

Jason opened his eyes and looked back over at Marinette. “Alright,” he reluctantly conceded, “but only if it can also be applied to you.”

She stared at him then rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips twitching upwards in amusement. “I shouldn't have expected any answer but that from you. Luckily I've still got enough divine power to cast those two protection wards on the both of us.”

“Good!” He grinned cheekily.

Rolling her shoulders, Marinette mentally went over the incantations that would be used in this specific warding. She locked eyes with Jason and tilted her head to the side, “you first my knight.”

Squinting at her suspiciously for a few seconds, he eventually relented and shrugged. “As long as you've got enough divinity to protect yourself after, my holiness.”

“I will, trust me.” She responded, closing her eyes for a brief second before muttering the ancient celestial words of the language of the guardians. Her eyes filled with holy light, glowing like two sparkling suns. Whilst her hair began to shimmer and float as though underwater in sun-dappled waves. Swiftly she made an elegant hand gesture as continued to murmur the incantations. The shimmer in her hair and glow of her eyes flared for a split second as her words and hand gestures crescendoed, before flickering out like a snuffed candle.

As the golden radiance faded from Marinette, a similar golden glow began to settle around Jason. That too faded but a split second after appearing.

“Your powers never cease to amaze me, my holiness,” Jason murmured, staring at where the soft golden glow had radiated around him. Carefully he moved to hold her hands in his own so that he could press gentle kisses to them.

She giggled, blushing profusely. Although a smirk formed on her lips at his words. “Oh? Then where was this adoration of yours, my knight, when I magically mended those noble finery clothes of yours that were so unfortunately ripped just the night before we were to attend a masquerade, hmm?”

“Hey! Fucking–! Argh!” Jason sputtered for a second and then twisted around to grab a pillow from the bed, throwing it at Marinette. “Just cast the fucking protection ward on yourself!”

Marinette cackled as she fell back against the bedding from the impact of the pillow. She dramatically threw an arm over her face and cried out in mock distress, “oh no, oh dear! It would seem I have been most verily betrayed by mine own knight who was sworn to protect me, and yet! Here I lay, bloodied and betrayed! The world is fading from my grasp, I see the light of my goddess and her pantheon beckoning! Oh, whatever shall I do?”

“It would seem my last assassination attempt failed, sweetest priestess. Fear not! I shan't fail you again.” He declared equally as theatrically, grabbing the other pillow and throwing it at her as well.

“Ah! I have perished. What a shame, I am unable to cast that protection ward on myself now. Oh no!” Marinette continued, flopping onto her side and sticking out her tongue in mock death.

Jason snorted, “My assassination may have succeeded, but I cannot live with myself in this world without my love any longer. With this knife,” He stole back one of the pillows, “I shall perish besides the light of my life! Bleh.”

He flopped against the bedding beside her, a few seconds passed before the two of them burst into more laughter.

A few more moments passed before he elbowed her lightly. “Come on, your turn!”

Marinette wheezed and waved a hand, muttering the incantations between breaths. The radiance glowed around her, eyes and hair glimmering as they did before. Then as she reached the end of the incantations once more, it all faded away again. “Happy?”

“Indubitably, my love.” He responded.

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Good!”

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Fun fact: this was supposed to be longer but I wasn't happy with how the last part was going and so I cut it. So if people enjoy this one, well I'll just have to finish the follow-up piece to this fic, won't I. Ironically the part that was cut got more into the gothic horror and the main reason behind the title but I decided to focus on the romantic fluff as the end point instead. Flowed a little bit better. |

| This piece was inspired by a d&d campaign i joined for a few sessions. It was set in a creepy little hamlet with an incredibly creepy innkeeper who forced our party into signing a contract before we could spend outrageous amounts on gold just for a single night's stay. And uh turned out the dude was a demon we just sold our souls to, and then all but one of the party ended up leaving the inn to try our chances against the horrifying plague-like monsters outside, aka the whole reason we brought rooms in the first place! |

| Also feel free to send me any asks or comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I’ll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

[grigori77]

Summer 2021′s Movies - My Top Ten Favourite Films (Part 2)

The Top Ten:

10.  WEREWOLVES WITHIN – definitely one of the year’s biggest cinematic surprises so far, this darkly comic supernatural murder mystery from indie horror director Josh Ruben (Scare Me) is based on a video game, but you’d never know it – this bears so little resemblance to the original Ubisoft title that it’s a wonder anyone even bothered to make the connection, but even so, this is now notable for officially being the highest rated video game adaptation in Rotten Tomatoes history, with a Certified Fresh rating of 86%. Certainly it deserves that distinction, but there’s so much more to the film – this is an absolute blood-splattered joy, the title telling you everything you need to know about the story but belying the film’s pure, quirky genius.  Veep’s Sam Richardson is forest ranger Finn Wheeler, a gentle and socially awkward soul who arrives at his new post in the remote small town of Beaverton to discover the few, uniformly weird residents are divided over the oil pipeline proposition of forceful and abrasive businessman Sam Parker (The Hunt’s Wayne Duvall).  As he tries to fit in and find his feet, investigating the disappearance of a local dog while bonding with local mail carrier Cecily Moore (Other Space and This Is Us’ Milana Vayntrub), the discovery of a horribly mutilated human body leads to a standoff between the townsfolk and an enforced lockdown in the town’s ramshackle hotel as they try to work out who amongst them is the “werewolf” they suspect is responsible.  This is frequently hilarious, the offbeat script from appropriately named Mishna Wolff (I’m Down) dropping some absolutely zingers and crafting some enjoyably weird encounters and unexpected twists, while the uniformly excellent cast do much of the heavy-lifting to bring their rich, thoroughly oddball characters to vivid life – Richardson is thoroughly cuddly throughout, while Duvall is pleasingly loathsome, Casual’s Michaela Watkins is pleasingly grating as Trisha, flaky housewife to unrepentant local horn-dog Pete Anderton (Orange is the New Black’s Michael Chernus), and Cheyenne Jackson (American Horror Story) and Harry Guillen (best known, OF COURSE, as Guillermo in the TV version of What We Do In the Shadows) make an enjoyably spiky double-act as liberal gay couple Devon and Joaquim Wolfson; in the end, though, the film is roundly stolen by Vayntrub, who invests Cecily with a bubbly sweetness and snarky sass that makes it absolutely impossible to not fall completely in love with her (gods know I did).  This is a deeply funny film, packed with proper belly-laughs from start to finish, but like all the best horror comedies it takes its horror elements seriously, delivering some enjoyably effective scares and juicy gore, while the werewolf itself, when finally revealed, is realised through some top-notch prosthetics.  Altogether this was a most welcome under-the-radar surprise for the summer, and SO MUCH MORE than just an unusually great video game adaptation …

9.  THE TOMORROW WAR – although cinemas finally reopened in the UK in early summer, the bite of the COVID lockdown backlog was still very much in effect this blockbuster season, with several studios preferring to hedge their bets and wait for later release dates. Others turned to streaming services, including Paramount, who happily lined up a few heavyweight titles to open on major platforms in lieu of the big screen.  One of the biggest was this intended sci-fi action horror tentpole, meant to give Chris Pratt another potential franchise on top of Guardians of the Galaxy and Jurassic World, which instead dropped in early July on Amazon Prime.  So, was it worth staying in on a Saturday night instead of heading out for something on the BIG screen?  Mostly yes, although it’s mainly a trashy, guilty pleasure big budget B-picture charm that makes this such a worthwhile experience – the film’s biggest influences are clearly Independence Day and Starship Troopers, two admirably clunky blockbusters that DEFINED prioritising big spectacle and overblown theatrics over intelligent writing and realistic storytelling.  It doesn’t help that the premise is pure bunk – in 2022, a wormhole opens from thirty years in the future, and a plea for help is sent back with a bunch of very young future soldiers.  Seems Earth will become overrun by an unstoppable swarm of nasty alien critters called Whitespikes in 25 years, and the desperate human counteroffensive have no choice but to bring soldiers from our present into the future to help them fight back and save the humanity from imminent extinction.  Less than a year later, the world’s standing armies have been decimated and a worldwide draft has been implemented, with normal everyday adults being sent through for a seven day tour from which very few return.  Pratt plays biology teacher and former Green Beret Dan Forrester, one of the latest batch of draftees to be sent into the future along with a selection of chefs, soccer moms and other average joes – his own training and experience serves him better than most when the shit hits the fan, but it soon becomes clear that he’s just as out of his depth as everyone else as the sheer enormity of the threat is revealed.  But when he becomes entangled with a desperate research outfit led by Muri (Chuck’s Yvonne Strahovski) who seem to be on the verge of a potential world-changing scientific breakthrough, Dan realises there just might be a slender hope for humanity after all … this is every bit as over-the-top gung-ho bonkers as it sounds, and just as much fun.  Director Chris McKay may still be pretty fresh (with only The Lego Batman Movie under his belt to date), but he shows a lot of talent and potential for big budget blockbuster filmmaking here, delivering with guts and bravado on some major action sequences (a fraught ticking-clock SAR operation through a war-torn Miami is the film’s undeniable highlight, but a desperate battle to escape a blazing oil rig also really impresses), as well as handling some impressively complex visual effects work and wrangling some quality performances from his cast (altogether it bodes well for his future, which includes Nightwing and Johnny Quest as future projects).  Chris Pratt can do this kind of stuff in his sleep – Dan is his classic fallible and self-deprecating but ultimately solid and kind-hearted action hero fare, effortlessly likeable and easy to root for – and his supporting cast are equally solid, Strahovsky going toe-to-toe with him in the action sequences while also creating a rewardingly complex smart-woman/badass combo in Muri, while the other real standouts include Sam Richardson (Veep, Werewolves Within) and Edwin Hodge (The Purge movies) as fellow draftees Charlie and Dorian, the former a scared-out-of-his-mind tech geek while the latter is a seriously hardcore veteran serving his THIRD TOUR, and the ever brilliant J.K. Simmonds as Dan’s emotionally scarred estranged Vietnam-vet father, Jim.  Sure, it’s derivative as hell and thoroughly predictable (with more than one big twist you can see coming a mile away), but the pace is brisk, the atmosphere pregnant with a palpable doomed urgency, and the creatures themselves are a genuinely convincing world-ending threat, the design team and visual effects wizards creating genuine nightmare fuel in the feral and unrelenting Whitespikes.  Altogether this WAS an ideal way to spend a comfy Saturday night in, but I think it could have been JUST AS GOOD for a Saturday night OUT at the Pictures …

8.  ARMY OF THE DEAD – another high profile release that went straight to streaming was this genuine monster hit for Netflix from one of this century’s undeniable heavyweight action cinema masters, the indomitable Zack Snyder, who kicked off his career with an audience-dividing (but, as far as I’m concerned, ultimately MASSIVELY successful) remake of George Romero’s immortal Dawn of the Dead, and has finally returned to zombie horror after close to two decades away.  The end result is, undeniably, the biggest cinematic guilty pleasure of the entire summer, a bona fide outbreak horror EPIC in spite of its tightly focused story – Dave Bautista plays mercenary Scott Ward, leader a badass squad of soldiers of fortune who were among the few to escape a deadly outbreak of a zombie virus in the city of Las Vegas, enlisted to break into the vault of one of the Strip’s casinos by owner Bly Tanaka (a fantastically game turn from Hiroyuki Sanada) and rescue $200 million still locked away inside.  So what’s the catch?  Vegas remains ground zero for the outbreak, walled off from the outside world but still heavily infested within, and in less than three days the US military intends to sterilise the site with a tactical nuke.  Simple premise, down and dirty, trashy flick, right?  Wrong – Snyder has never believed in doing things small, having brought us unapologetically BIG cinema with the likes of 300, Watchmen, Man of Steel and, most notably, his version of Justice League, so this is another MASSIVE undertaking, every scene shot for maximum thrills or emotional impact, each set-piece executed with his characteristic militaristic precision and explosive predilection (a harrowing fight for survival against a freshly-awakened zombie horde in tightly packed casino corridors is the film’s undeniable highlight), and the gauzy, dreamlike cinematography gives even simple scenes an intriguing and evocative edge that really does make you feel like you’re watching something BIG.  The characters all feel larger-than-life too – Bautista can seem somewhat cartoonish at times, and this role definitely plays that as a strength, making Scott a rock-hard alpha male in the classic Hollywood mould, but he’s such a great actor that of course he’s able to invest the character with real rewarding complexity beneath the surface; Ana de la Reguera (Eastbound & Down) and Nora Arnezeder (Zoo, Mozart in the Jungle), meanwhile, both bring a healthy dose of oestrogen-fuelled badassery to proceedings as, respectively, Scott’s regular second-in-command, Maria Cruz, and Lilly the Coyote, Power’s Omari Hardwick and Matthias Schweighofer (You Are Wanted) make for a fun odd-couple double act as circular-saw-wielding merc Vanderohe and Dieter, the nervous, nerdy German safecracker brought in to crack the vault, and Fear the Walking Dead’s Garrett Dillahunt channels spectacular scumbag energy as Tanaka’s sleazy former casino boss Martin, while latecomer Tig Notaro (Star Trek Discovery) effortlessly rises above her last-minute-casting controversy to deliver brilliantly as sassy and acerbic chopper pilot Peters.  I think it goes without saying that Snyder can do this in his sleep, but he definitely wasn’t napping here – he pulled out all the stops on this one, delivering a thrilling, darkly comic and endearingly CRACKERS zombie flick that not only compares favourably to his own Dawn but is, undeniably, his best film for AGES.  Netflix certainly seem to be pleased with the results – a spinoff prequel, Army of Thieves, starring Dieter in another heist thriller, is set to drop in October, with an animated series following in the Spring, and there’s already rumours of a sequel in development.  I’m certainly up for more …

7.  BLACK WIDOW – no major blockbuster property was hit harder by COVID than the MCU, which saw its ENTIRE SLATE for 2020 delayed for over a year in the face of Marvel Studios bowing to the inevitability of the Pandemic and unwilling to sacrifice those all-important box-office receipts by just sending their films straight to streaming.  The most frustrating part for hardcore fans of the series was the delay of a standalone film that was already criminally overdue – the solo headlining vehicle of founding Avenger and bona fide female superhero ICON Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow.  Equally frustratingly, then, this film seems set to be overshadowed by real life controversy as star and producer Scarlett Johansson goes head-to-head with Disney in civil court over their breach-of-contract after they hedged their bets by releasing the film simultaneously in cinemas and on their own streaming platform, which has led to poor box office as many of the film’s potential audience chose to watch it at home instead of risk movie theatres with the virus still very much remaining a threat (and Disney have clearly reacted AGAIN, now backtracking on their release policy by instigating a new 45-day cinematic exclusivity window on all their big releases for the immediate future). But what of the film itself?  Well Black Widow is an interesting piece of work, director Cate Shortland (Berlin Syndrome) and screenwriter Eric Pearson (Thor: Ragnarok) delivering a decidedly stripped-back, lean and intellectual beast that bears greater resemblance to the more cerebral work of the Russo Brothers on their Captain America films than the more classically bombastic likes of Iron Man, Thor or the Avengers flicks, concentrating on story and characters over action and spectacle as we wind back the clock to before the events of Infinity War and Endgame, when Romanoff was on the run after Civil War, hunted by the government-appointed forces of US Secretary of State “Thunderbolt” Ross (William Hurt) after violating the Sokovia Accords.  Then a mysterious delivery throws her back into the fray as she finds herself targeted by a mysterious assassin, forcing her to team up with her estranged “sister” Yelena Belova (Midsommar’s Florence Pugh), another Black Widow who’s just gone rogue from the same Red Room Natasha escaped years ago, armed with a McGuffin capable of foiling a dastardly plot for world domination.  The reluctant duo need help in this endeavour though, enlisting the aid of their former “parents”, veteran Widow and scientist Melina Vostokoff (Rachel Weisz) and Alexie Shostakov (Stranger Things’ David Harbour), aka the Red Guardian, a Russian super-soldier intended to be their counterpart to Captain America, who’s been languishing in a Siberian gulag for the last twenty years. After the Earth-shaking, universe-changing events of recent MCU events, this film certainly feels like a much more self-contained, modest affair, playing for much smaller stakes, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less worthy of our attention – this is as precision-crafted as anything we’ve seen from Marvel so far, but it also feels like a refreshing change of pace after all those enormous cosmic shenanigans, while the script is as tight as a drum, propelling a taut, suspense-filled thriller that certainly doesn’t scrimp on the action front.  Sure, the set-pieces are very much in service of the story here, but they’re still the pre-requisite MCU rollercoaster rides, a selection of breathless chases and bone-crunching fights that really do play to the strengths of one of our favourite Avengers, but this is definitely one of those films where the real fireworks come when the film focuses on the characters – Johansson is so comfortable with her character she’s basically BECOME Natasha Romanoff, kickass and ruthless and complex and sassy and still just desperate for a family (though she hides it well throughout the film), while Weisz delivers one of her best performances in years as a peerless professional who keeps her emotions tightly reigned in but slowly comes to realise that she was never more happy than when she was pretending to be a simple mother, and Ray Winstone does a genuinely fantastic job of taking a character who could have been one of the MCU’s most disappointingly bland villains, General Dreykov, master of the Red Room, and investing him with enough oily charisma and intense presence to craft something truly memorable (frustratingly, the same cannot be said for the film’s supposed main physical threat, Taskmaster, who performs well in their frustratingly brief appearances but ultimately gets Darth Maul levels of short service).  The true scene-stealers in the film, however, are Alexie and Yelena – Harbour’s clearly having the time of his life hamming it up as a self-important, puffed-up peacock of a superhero who never got his shot and is clearly (rightly) decidedly bitter about it, preferring to relive the life he SHOULD have had instead of remembering the good in the one he got; Pugh, meanwhile, is THE BEST THING IN THE WHOLE MOVIE, easily matching Johanssen scene-for-scene in the action stakes but frequently out-performing her when it comes to acting, investing Yelena with a sweet naivety and innocence and a certain amount of quirky geekiness that makes for one of the year’s most endearing female protagonists (certainly one who, if the character goes the way I think she will, is thoroughly capable of carrying the torch for the foreseeable future).  In the end this is definitely one of the LEAST typical, by-the-numbers MCU films to date, and by delivering something a little different I think they’ve given us just the kind of leftfield swerve the series needs right now.  It’s certainly one of their most fascinating and rewarding films so far, and since it seems to be Johansson’s final tour of duty as the Black Widow, it’s also a most fitting farewell indeed.

6.  WRATH OF MAN – Guy Ritchie’s latest (regarded by many as a triumphant return to form, which I consider unfair since I don’t think he ever went away, especially after 2020’s spectacular The Gentlemen) is BY FAR his darkest film – let’s get this clear from the start.  Anyone who knows his work knows that Ritchie consistently maintains a near flawless balance and humour and seriousness in his films that gives them a welcome quirkiness that is one of his most distinctive trademarks, so for him to suddenly deliver a film which takes itself SO SERIOUSLY is one hell of a departure.  This is a film which almost REVELS in its darkness – Ritchie’s always loved bathing in man’s baser instincts, but Wrath of Man almost makes a kind of twisted VIRTUE out of wallowing in the genuine evils that men are capable of inflicting on each other.  The film certainly kicks off as it means to go on – In a tour-de-force single-shot opening, we watch a daring armoured car robbery on the streets of Los Angeles that goes horrifically wrong, an event which will have devastating consequences in the future.  Five months later, Fortico Security hires taciturn Brit Patrick Hill (Jason Statham) to work as a guard in one of their trucks, and on his first run he single-handedly foils another attempted robbery with genuinely uncanny combat skills. The company is thrilled, amazed by the sheer ability of their new hire, but Hill’s new colleagues are more concerned, wondering exactly what they’ve let themselves in for.  After a second foiled robbery, it becomes clear that Hill’s reputation has grown, but fellow guard Haiden (Holt McCallany), aka “Bullet”, begins to suspect there might be something darker going on … Ritchie is firing on all cylinders here, delivering a PERFECT slow-burn suspense thriller which plays its cards close to its chest and cranks up its piano wire tension with artful skill as it builds to a devastating, knuckle-whitening explosive heist that acts as a cathartic release for everything that’s built up over the past hour and a half.  In typical Ritchie style the narrative is non-linear, the story unfolding in four distinct parts told from clearly differentiated points of view, allowing the clues to be revealed at a trickle that effortlessly draws the viewer in as they fall deeper down the rabbit hole, leading to a harrowing but strangely poignant denouement which is perfectly in tune with everything that’s come before. It’s an immense pleasure finally getting to see Statham working with Ritchie again, and I don’t think he’s ever been better than he is here – he's always been a brilliantly understated actor, but there’s SO MUCH going on under Hill’s supposedly impenetrable calm that every little peek beneath the armour is a REVELATION; McCallany, meanwhile, has landed his best role since his short but VERY sweet supporting turn in Fight Club, seemingly likeable and fallible as the kind of easy-going co-worker anyone in the service industry would be THRILLED to have, but giving Bullet far more going on under the surface, while there are uniformly excellent performances from a top-shelf ensemble supporting cast which includes Josh Hartnett, Jeffrey Donovan (Burn Notice, Sicario), Andy Garcia, Laz Alonso (The Boys), Eddie Marsan, Niamh Algar (Raised By Wolves) and Darrell D’Silva (Informer, Domina), and a particularly edgy and intense turn from Scott Eastwood.  This is one of THE BEST thrillers of the year, by far, a masterpiece of mood, pace and plot that ensnares the viewer from its gripping opening and hooks them right up to the close, a triumph of the genre and EASILY Guy Ritchie’s best film since Snatch.  Regardless of whether or not it’s a RETURN to form, we can only hope he continues to deliver fare THIS GOOD in the future …

5.  FEAR STREET (PARTS 1-3) – Netflix have gotten increasingly ambitious with their original filmmaking over the years, and some of this years’ offerings have reached new heights of epic intention.  Their most exciting release of the summer was this adaptation of popular children’s horror author R.L. Stine’s popular book series, a truly gargantuan undertaking as the filmmakers set out to create an entire TRILOGY of films which were then released over three consecutive weekends.  Interestingly, these films are most definitely NOT for kids – this is proper, no-holds-barred supernatural slasher horror, delivering highly calibrated shocks and precision jump scares, a pervading atmosphere of insidious dread and a series of inventively gruesome kills.  The story revolves around two neighbouring small towns which have had vastly different fortunes over more than three centuries of existence – while the residents of Sunnyvale are unusually successful, living idyllic lives in peace and prosperity, luck has always been against the people of Shadyside, who languish in impoverishment, crime and misfortune, while the town has become known as the Murder Capital of the USA due to frequent spree killings.  Some attribute this to the supposed curse of a local urban legend, Sarah Fier, who became known as the Fier Witch after her execution for witchcraft in 1668, but others dismiss this as simple superstition.  Part 1 is set in 1994, as the latest outbreak of serial mayhem begins in Shadyside, dragging a small group of local teens – Deena Johnson (She Never Died’s Kiana Madeira) and Samantha Fraser (Olivia Scott Welch), a young lesbian couple going through a difficult breakup, Deena’s little brother Josh (The Haunted Hathaways’ Benjamin Flores Jr.), a nerdy history geek who spends most of his time playing video games or frequenting violent crime-buff online chatrooms, and their delinquent friends Simon (Eight Grade’s Fred Hechinger) and Kate (Julia Rehwald) – into the age-old ghostly conspiracy as they find themselves besieged by indestructible undead serial killers from the town’s past, reasoning that the only way they can escape with their lives is to solve the mystery and bring the Fier Witch some much needed closure.  Part 2, meanwhile, flashes back to a previous outbreak in 1977, in which local sisters Ziggy (Stranger Things’ Sadie Sink) and Cindy Berman (Emily Rudd), together with future Sunnyvale sheriff Nick Goode (Ted Sutherland) were among the kids hunted by said killers during a summer camp “colour war”.  As for Part 3, that goes all the way back to 1668 to tell the story of what REALLY happened to Sarah Fier, before wrapping up events in 1994, culminating in a terrifying, adrenaline-fuelled showdown in the Shadyside Mall.  Throughout, the youthful cast are EXCEPTIONAL, Madeira, Welch, Flores Jr., Sink and Rudd particularly impressing, while there are equally strong turns from Ashley Zuckerman (The Code, Designated Survivor) and Community’s Gillian Jacobs as the grown-up versions of two key ’77 kids, and a fun cameo from Maya Hawke in Part 1.  This is most definitely retro horror in the Stranger Things mould, perfectly executed period detail bringing fun nostalgic flavour to all three of the timelines while the peerless direction from Leigh Janiak (Honeymoon) and wire-tight, sharp-witted screenplays from Janiak, Kyle Killen (Lone Star, The Beaver), Phil Graziadel, Zak Olkewicz and Kate Trefry strike a perfect balance between knowing dark humour and knife-edged terror, as well as weaving an intriguingly complex narrative web that pulls the viewer in but never loses them to overcomplication.  The design, meanwhile, is evocative, the cinematography (from Stanger Things’ Caleb Heymann) is daring and magnificently moody, and the killers and other supernatural elements of the film are handled with skill through largely physical effects.  This is definitely not a standard, by-the-numbers slasher property, paying strong homage to the sub-genre’s rules but frequently subverting them with expert skill, and it’s as much fun as it is frightening.  Give us some more like this please, Netflix!

4.  THE SPARKS BROTHERS – those who’ve been following my reviews for a while will known that while I do sometimes shout about documentary films, they tend to show up in my runners-up lists – it’s a great rarity for one to land in one of my top tens.  This lovingly crafted deep-dive homage to cult band Sparks, from self-confessed rabid fanboy Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, Scott Pilgrim), is something VERY SPECIAL INDEED, then … there’s a vague possibility some of you may have heard the name before, and many of you will know at least one or two of their biggest hits without knowing it was them (their greatest hit of all time, This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us, immediately springs to mind), but unless you’re REALLY serious about music it’s quite likely you have no idea who they are, namely two brothers from California, Russell and Ronald Mael, who formed a very sophisticated pop-rock band in the late 60s and then never really went away, having moments of fame but mostly working away in the background and influencing some of the greatest bands and musical artists that followed them, even if many never even knew where that influence originally came from. Wright’s film is an engrossing joy from start to finish (despite clocking in at two hours and twenty minutes), following their eclectic career from obscure inception as Halfnelson, through their first real big break with third album Kimono My Place, subsequent success and then fall from popularity in the mid-70s, through several subsequent revitalisations, all the way up to the present day with their long-awaited cinematic breakthrough, revolutionary musical feature Annette – throughout Wright keeps the tone light and the pace breezy, allowing a strong and endearing sense of irreverence to rule the day as fans, friends and the brothers themselves offer up fun anecdotes and wax lyrical about what is frequently a larger-than-life tragicomic soap opera, utilising fun, crappy animation and idiosyncratic stock footage inserts alongside talking-head interviews that were made with a decidedly tongue-in-cheek style – Mike Myers good-naturedly rants about how we can see his “damned mole” while 80s New Romantic icons Nick Rhodes and John Taylor, while shot together, are each individually labelled as “Duran”.  Ron and Russ themselves, meanwhile, are clearly having huge fun, gently ribbing each other and dropping some fun deadpan zingers throughout proceedings, easily playing to the band’s strong, idiosyncratic sense of hyper-intelligent humour, while the aforementioned celebrity talking-heads are just three amongst a whole wealth of famous faces that may surprise you – there’s even an appearance by Neil Gaiman, guys!  Altogether this is 2+ hours of bright and breezy fun chock full of great music and fascinating information, and even hardcore Sparks fans are likely to learn more than a little over the course of the film, while for those who have never heard of Sparks before it’s a FANTASTIC introduction to one of the greatest ever bands that you’ve never heard of.  With luck there might even be more than a few new fans before the year is out …

3.  GUNPOWDER MILKSHAKE – Netflix’ BEST offering of the summer was this surprise hit from Israeli writer-director Navot Papushado (Rabies, Big Bad Wolves), a heavily stylised black comedy action thriller that passes the Bechdel Test with FLYING COLOURS.  Playing like a female-centric John Wick, it follows ice-cold, on-top-of-her-game assassin Sam (Karen Gillan) as her latest assignment has some unfortunate side effects, leading her to take on a reparation job to retrieve some missing cash for the local branch of the Irish Mob.  The only catch is that a group of thugs have kidnapped the original thief’s little girl, 12 year-old Emily (My Spy’s Chloe Coleman), and Sam, in an uncharacteristic moment of sympathy, decides to intervene, only for the money to be accidentally destroyed in the process.  Now she’s got the Mob and her own employers coming after her, and she not only has to save her own skin but also Emily’s, leading her to seek help from the one person she thought she might never see again – her mother, Scarlet (Lena Headey), a master assassin in her own right who’s been hiding from the Mob herself for years.  The plot may be simple but at times also a little over-the-top, but the film is never anything less than a pure, unadulterated pleasure, populated with fascinating, living and breathing characters of real complexity and nuance, while the script (co-written by relative newcomer Ehud Lavski) is tightly-reined and bursting with zingers.  Most importantly, though, Papushado really delivers on the action front – these are some of the best set-pieces I’ve seen this year, Gillan, her co-stars and the various stunt-performers acquitting themselves admirably in a series of spectacular fights, gun battles and a particularly imaginative car chase that would be the envy of many larger, more expensive productions.  Gillan and Coleman have a sweet, awkward chemistry, the MCU star particularly impressing in a subtly nuanced performance that also plays beautifully against Headey’s own tightly controlled turn, while there is awesome support from Angela Bassett, Michelle Yeoh and Carla Gugino as Sam’s adoptive aunts Anna May, Florence and Madeleine, a trio of “librarians” who run a fine side-line in illicit weaponry and are capable of unleashing some spectacular violence of their own; the film’s antagonists, on the other hand, are exclusively masculine – the mighty Ralph Inneson is quietly ruthless as Irish boss Jim McAlester, while The Terror’s Adam Nagaitis is considerably more mercurial as his mad dog nephew Virgil, and Paul Giamatti is the stately calm at the centre of the storm as Sam’s employer Nathan, the closest thing she has to a father.  There’s so much to enjoy in this movie, not just the wonderful characters and amazing action but also the singularly engrossing and idiosyncratic style, deeply affecting themes of the bonds of found family and the healing power of forgiveness, and a rewarding through-line of strong women triumphing against the brutalities of toxic masculinity.  I love this film, and I invite you to try it out, cuz I’m sure you will too.

2.  THE SUICIDE SQUAD – the most fun I’ve had at the cinema so far this year is the long-awaited (thanks a bunch, COVID) redress of another frustrating imbalance from the decidedly hit and miss DCEU superhero franchise, in which Guardians of the Galaxy writer-director James Gunn has finally delivered a PROPER Suicide Squad movie after David Ayer’s painfully compromised first stab at the property back in 2016.  That movie was enjoyable enough and had some great moments, but ultimately it was a clunky mess, and while some of the characters were done (quite) well, others were painfully botched, even ruined entirely.  Thankfully Warner Bros. clearly learned their lesson, giving Gunn free reign to do whatever he wanted, and the end result is about as close to perfect as the DCEU has come to date.  Once again the peerless Viola Davis plays US government official Amanda Waller, head of ARGUS and the undisputable most evil bitch in all the DC Universe, who presides over the metahuman prisoners of the notorious supermax Belle Reve Prison, cherry-picking inmates for her pet project Taskforce X, the titular Suicide Squad sent out to handle the kind of jobs nobody else wants, in exchange for years off their sentences but controlled by explosive implants injected into the base of their skulls.  Their latest mission sees another motley crew of D-bags dispatched to the fictional South African island nation of Corto Maltese to infiltrate Jotunheim, a former Nazi facility in which a dangerous extra-terrestrial entity that’s being developed into a fearful bioweapon, with orders to destroy the project in order to keep it out of the hands of a hostile anti-American regime which has taken control of the island through a violent coup.  Where the first Squad felt like a clumsily-arranged selection of stereotypes with a few genuinely promising characters unsuccessfully moulded into a decidedly forced found family, this new batch are convincingly organic – they may be dysfunctional and they’re all almost universally definitely BAD GUYS, but they WORK, the relationship dynamics that form between them feeling genuinely earned.  Gunn has already proven himself a master of putting a bunch of A-holes together and forging them into band of “heroes”, and he’s certainly pulled the job off again here, dredging the bottom of the DC Rogues Gallery for its most ridiculous Z-listers and somehow managing to make them compelling.  Sure, returning Squad-member Harley Quinn (the incomparable Margot Robbie, magnificent as ever) has already become a fully-realised character thanks to Birds of Prey, so there wasn’t much heavy-lifting to be done here, but Gunn genuinely seems to GET the character, so our favourite pixie-esque Agent of Chaos is an unbridled and thoroughly unpredictable joy here, while fellow veteran Colonel Rick Flagg (a particularly muscular and thoroughly game Joel Kinnaman) has this time received a much needed makeover, Gunn promoting him from being the first film’s sketchily-drawn “Captain Exposition” and turning him into a fully-ledged, well-thought-out human being with all the requisite baggage, including a newfound sense of humour; the newcomers, meanwhile, are a thoroughly fascinating bunch – reluctant “leader” Bloodsport/Robert DuBois (a typically robust and playful Idris Elba), unapologetic douchebag Peacemaker/Christopher Smith (probably the best performance I’ve EVER seen John Cena deliver), and socially awkward and seriously hard-done-by nerd (and by far the most idiotic DC villain of all time) the Polka-Dot Man/Abner Krill (a genuinely heart-breaking hangdog performance from Ant-Man’s David Dastmalchian); meanwhile there’s a fine trio of villainous turns from the film’s resident Big Bads, with Juan Diego Botta (Good Behaviour) and Joaquin Cosio (Quantum of Solace, Narcos: Mexico) making strong impressions as newly-installed dictator Silvio Luna and his corrupt right hand-man General Suarez, although both are EASILY eclipsed by the typically brilliant Peter Capaldi as louche and quietly deranged supervillain The Thinker/Gaius Greives (although the film’s ULTIMATE threat turns out to be something a whole lot bigger and more exotic). The film is ROUNDLY STOLEN, however, by a truly adorable double act (or TRIPLE act, if you want to get technical) – Daniella Melchior makes her breakthrough here in fine style as sweet, principled and kind-hearted narcoleptic second-generation supervillain Ratcatcher II/Cleo Cazo, who has the weird ability to control rats (and who has a pet rat named Sebastian who frequently steals scenes all on his own), while a particular fan-favourite B-lister makes his big screen debut here in the form of King Shark/Nanaue, a barely sentient anthropomorphic Great White “shark god” with an insatiable appetite for flesh and a naturally quizzical nature who was brilliantly mo-capped by Steve Agee (The Sarah Silverman Project, who also plays Waller’s hyperactive assistant John Economos) but then artfully completed with an ingenious vocal turn from Sylvester Stallone. James Gunn has crafted an absolute MASTERPIECE here, EASILY the best film he’s made to date, a riotous cavalcade of exquisitely observed and perfectly delivered dark humour and expertly wrangled narrative chaos that has great fun playing with the narrative flow, injects countless spot-on in-jokes and irreverent but utterly essential throwaway sight-gags, and totally endears us to this glorious gang of utter morons right from the start (in which Gunn delivers what has to be one of the most skilful deep-fakes in cinematic history).  Sure, there’s also plenty of action, and it’s executed with the kind of consummate skill we’ve now come to expect from Gunn (the absolute highlight is a wonderfully bonkers sequence in which Harley expertly rescues herself from captivity), but like everything else it’s predominantly played for laughs, and there’s no getting away from the fact that this film is an absolute RIOT.  By far the funniest thing I’ve seen so far this year, and if I’m honest this is the best of the DCEU offerings to date, too (for me, only the exceptional Birds of Prey can compare) – if Warner Bros. have any sense they’ll give Gunn more to do VERY SOON …

1.  A QUIET PLACE, PART II – while UK cinemas finally reopened in early May, I was determined that my first trip back to the Big Screen for 2021 was gonna be something SPECIAL, and indeed I already knew what that was going to be. Thankfully I was not disappointed by my choice – 2018’s A Quiet Place was MY VERY FAVOURITE horror movie of the 2010s, an undeniable masterclass in suspense and sustained screen terror wrapped around a refreshingly original killer concept, and I was among the many fans hoping we’d see more in the future, especially after the film’s teasingly open ending.  Against the odds (or perhaps not), writer-director/co-star John Krasinski has pulled off the seemingly impossible task of not only following up that high-wire act, but genuinely EQUALLING it in levels of quality – picking up RIGHT where the first film left off (at least after an AMAZING scene-setting opening in which we’re treated to the events of Day 1 of the downfall of humanity), rejoining the remnants of the Abbott family as they’re forced by circumstances to up-sticks from their idyllic farmhouse home and strike out into the outside world once more, painfully aware at all times that they must maintain perfect silence to avoid the ravenous attentions of the lethal blind alien beasties that now sit at the top of the food chain.  Circumstances quickly become dire, however, and embattled mother Evelyn (Emily Blunt) is forced to ally herself with estranged family friend Emmett (Cillian Murphy), now a haunted, desperate vagrant eking out a perilous existence in an abandoned factory, in order to safeguard the future of her children Regan (Millicent Simmonds), Marcus (Noah Jupe) and their newborn baby brother.  Regan, however, discovers evidence of more survivors, and with her newfound weapon against the aliens she recklessly decides to set off on her own in the hopes of aiding them before it’s too late … it may only be his second major blockbuster as a director, but Krasinski has once again proven he’s a true heavyweight talent, effortlessly carving out fresh ground in this already magnificently well-realised dystopian universe while also playing magnificently to the established strengths of what came before, delivering another peerless thrill-ride of unbearable tension and knuckle-whitening terror.  The central principle of utilising sound at a very strict premium is once again strictly adhered to here, available sources of dialogue once again exploited with consummate skill while sound design and score (another moody triumph from Marco Beltrami) again become THE MOST IMPORTANT aspects of the whole production. The ruined world is once again realised beautifully throughout, most notably in the nightmarish environment of a wrecked commuter train, and Krasinski cranks up the tension before unleashing it in merciless explosions in a selection of harrowing encounters which guaranteed to leave viewers in a puddle of sweat.  The director mostly stays behind the camera this time round, but he does (obviously) put in an appearance in the opening flashback as the late Lee Abbott, making a potent impression which leaves a haunting absence that’s keenly felt throughout the remainder of the film, while Blunt continues to display mother lion ferocity as she fights to keep her children safe and Jupe plays crippling fear magnificently but is now starting to show a hidden spine of steel as Marcus finally starts to find his courage; the film once again belongs, however, to Simmonds, the young deaf actress once and for all proving she’s a genuine star in the making as she invests Regan with fierce wilfulness and stubborn determination that remains unshakeable even in the face of unspeakable horrors, and the relationship she develops with Emmett, reluctant as it may be, provides a strong new emotional focus for the story, Murphy bringing an attractive wounded humanity to his role as a man who’s lost anything and is being forced to learn to care for something again.  This is another triumph of the genre AND the artform in general, a masterpiece of atmosphere, performance and storytelling which builds magnificently on the skilful foundations laid by the first film, as well as setting things up perfectly for a third instalment which is all but certain to follow.  I definitely can’t wait.