#when the original is a) right there and b) better than pretty much every imitator

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

Okay legit question: what is up with all the romance books that are just retellings of fairytales or classic myths?  Why is this specific trend so prominent?  It’s not inherently bad or anything I just don’t see enough of the appeal for it to be as popular as it is.

[juniorgman187]

About Time (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader’s offer to help Morgan renovate one of his properties makes Spencer jealous enough to confess what he never could before. 

A/N: I try to avoid specific Reid eras in my works so that it can be up to you how you imagine him, but please just imagine seasons 1 or 2 Spencer - I’m telling you it’ll make the experience richer. Also, I might improve this fic in the near future bc I’m not entirely happy with it. Category: Drabble, Fluff Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: None Word Count: 2.5k Playlist: Would You Be So Kind by Dodie

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

Clink … Clink … Clink … 

The repetitive noise was barely discernible at first, then it became all that I could focus on. 

In an attempt to find the source, I looked up from my paperwork and scanned the room. It only took me half a second to discover that Morgan was the culprit. 

From across the round table, I watched as Derek absentmindedly stirred his coffee and sugar together, making a ‘clink’ noise each time his spoon hit the rim of the cup. This wouldn’t have been bothersome had it not persisted for more than 10 minutes which, by all accounts, is plenty of time for the sugar to dissolve.

“Derek… ” I sort of sang, trying to capture his attention as nicely as possible. 

“Derek.” I repeated, this time a little less quietly and a little more sharply. Still, my voice did nothing to stop the noisy stirring of his coffee. I stayed silent for a second, just in case he finally noticed I was speaking to him, but when he didn’t, I gave a concerned look to Spencer beside me as if to ask if he was seeing what I was and he returned just the same expression of confusion. 

That’s when I knew something was wrong. 

“Derek!” I said even louder, finally catching his attention. 

His head snapped in my direction, his ghost-like countenance falling away after looking directly at me. I was relieved to see proof of life had been regained behind his eyes. The abrupt reaction made me squint harder in his direction to decipher what was truly going on. “Is everything okay? You were kind of zoning out just now.” 

He sighed while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “It’s nothing. I just had a late night last night and I didn’t go to bed till three this morning.” 

“Oh?” I asked coyly. “And what was her name?” I brought my mug to my lips to hide my growing smirk behind the rim. 

He didn’t catch on right away, which to me was more than enough evidence that he wasn’t well. He was usually the first to be aware of an innuendo, maybe even the one to be making it. “Whose name?”

“The girl that kept you up till three this morning.” I mimicked his voice in crude yet playful imitation.

To this, he shook his head and rolled his eyes with a grin. “Alright, get your pretty lil’ head out of the gutter, Kitten. I was busy fixing up a property I got down in Emporia. Lost track of time. That’s all.”

Whether or not he was hiding something more, I didn’t care anymore. He’d piqued my interest in this new topic. “Emporia? That’s like 2 or 3 hours away.” 

His eyebrows lifted in agreement. “Yeah, like I said - late night.” 

Not even trying to tempt him with my words, I simply remarked, “But I mean it can’t be that hard though, right? Fixing up the house?” 

There was no verbal response from him, only a mirthless chuckle.

I was less careful with my words than I should’ve been, letting them flow through my mouth without filtering them first. “I’m just saying, I worked with Habitat For Humanity for years. We built thousands of houses from scratch, each of them within a matter of days.” 

He sat up in his seat and leaned forward to assert himself. It was nearly the same mannerisms he would display in an interview when he wanted to maintain dominance. “Well, that’s because you got how many people working on one house?” 

When I didn’t answer, he simply tapped the table and leaned back comfortably in his seat, prematurely relishing in a self-proclaimed victory. “Yeah, exactly. Whereas, it’s just little ol’ me fixing up these properties.”

“Okay, then I’ll help you.” 

He only snickered in response, lending way for me to believe he didn’t trust that I’d provide any sort of productive assistance. 

“I will!” I insisted. “Since you’re so convinced those houses were only built as fast as they were because it was a group effort, I want to prove to you that it’s actually because I’m just a fast worker.” 

“It’s not a race, Kitten. All I said was it took me a while to fix up the house. I don’t need you to help. And I wouldn’t be paying you even if you did, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m not doing this for money,” I reasserted. “I’m doing this for pride. I know I’m right, and I want you to know it, too.” 

It’s worth mentioning that Derek and I made these kinds of bets all the time. Our friendship was practically built on the foundation of competition. The first interaction I ever had with him was when he came up to me while I was arranging my desk to ask what I thought the odds were that he could toss his paper ball into the trashcan across the bullpen. 

Years Ago . . .

“What are the chances I’ll make the shot?” I heard a deep, unfamiliar voice inquire from behind me.

“You’re aiming for the trashcan all the way over there? No way.” This voice I knew was Elle’s. She’d been the second person to introduce herself to me and if I had to guess, the deeper voice belonged to the guy I recalled sitting diagonally from her. I made eye contact with him when I initially walked in, but he hadn’t taken the time to introduce himself to me, nor I to him. He seemed a little preoccupied … making a paper ball and all. 

“Actually, if Morgan’s throw had specific arc, the trajectory of the ball would -”

“He’s not making it, Reid.” Elle cut off the small, almost mousy voice promptly, shutting down any ‘pro-Morgan-making-the-shot’ argument he was about to make. 

You could get a lot from just listening. Some might call it eavesdropping, but I like to call it being observant, and from what I’d observed 

A) The one throwing the ball was Morgan. 

B) The smart-sounding one was Reid. 

C) Reid was a proponent of Morgan, so I could assume they were close friends. 

D) There were three very distinct, very different personalities in this general vicinity of desks alone. 

“O’ ye of little faith! Gimme a break, Elle. You’re just busting my balls ‘cause Reid came to me about Lila before he came to you.” 

“That has nothing to do with the fact that I’m right.”

“No, but it means you have bias.” Derek retorted.

“Fine then. If it means that much to you to have an unbiased opinion, let’s ask someone impartial - like Anderson.”

“Actually, I have a better idea,” The deep voice said as soon as I’d placed the last item on my desk - a stack of sticky notes in the shape of a cat’s face that’d been gifted to me the moment I exited the elevator by Penelope Garcia. 

“Excuse me, Kitten,” The deep voice purred. “You think I could get this ball into that trash bin right over there?” 

It took me a second to register that he was addressing me until I realized where the nickname originated from and that it had belonged to me - I could thank Penelope for that.

“Oh, um …” I looked around the room like somehow it would have my answer. In some ways, it did. 

I made contact with Reid first. He smiled weakly at me with tender awkwardness that melted my heart a little bit. Meanwhile, Elle’s eyes were luring me to join her on the dark side and say he wouldn’t make it. To be fair, riling him up seemed like fun. I’d be on Elle’s good side, gain her approval, and if I executed my jest playfully enough, I’d be on Morgan’s good side, too.

“No shot in hell, big guy.” 

Present Time . . .

That’s how it all started - this sibling-like rivalry. Ever since then, we’ve been challenging each other like our lives depended on it. And if I had to make it my life’s mission to win this most recent bet, then so be it. 

“Alright, kitten, I’ll take you up on that offer. I’ll pick you up at 9 on Saturday.” 

We sealed the deal with a cross-table handshake, and at that moment, I hadn’t realized it - only when I thought back to it, did I notice - Reid had been watching the entire interaction unfold. Misinterpreting every painstaking second of it. 

_ _ _

Sticking true to his word, Derek had taken up my offer in spades. Not the least bit shy in delegating me each and every duty there could possibly be. 

I’ll admit, he used my pride to his advantage. Because while I was practically doing all the handy-work imaginable inside the property, he was resting on his laurels outside, probably taking up the view of rolling green hills that went on forever just beyond the front yard. 

It just so happened that that would be our maintained, respective locations for the unexpected arrival of Derek’s very first (very unhappy) guest.

I was inside painting when I heard the placid squeak of Derek getting up from his Adirondack chair on the wraparound porch. I remember peeking my head out of the doorway for a second to see if he was finally going to come inside and help me, but lo and behold, I caught him walking further away from the entrance. While I might’ve given an eye roll of annoyance at the action, I thought nothing of it. Not until I heard Derek speaking to an eerily familiar secondary voice. 

“What are you doing here?” I could hear Derek ask. My ears had perked up like a dog on high alert. 

“Don’t play dumb. You’re trying to … to -” The second voice stammered. 

“Spit it out, kid!” 

“You’re trying to steal my girl!” Whoever it was, was desperate to speak with conviction, maybe even malice, to prove some level of strength that could match Derek’s, but they tried and failed. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Steal your girl? What the hell are you talking about, man?” 

“You know I like her! And yet you’re just hanging out with her alone now? On one of your desolate properties? Can’t you see how suspicious that looks? You’re supposed to be my friend.” 

I’d stopped painting completely at this point so I could take asylum behind the closed door. I could place that voice anywhere, and I needed to press my ear against the only thing separating it from me to confirm what I already knew. 

“Reid, I am your friend,” And there it was. Reid? “And as your friend, I’m telling you: lower your voice unless you want her to hear you.”

“Don’t patronize me. Just tell me,” Spencer, if anything, spoke louder. Perhaps he did want me to hear him, or he simply wanted to defy Derek. “Why do you flirt with her?”

“Flirt?” Derek seemed appalled at the word. It would’ve been offensive that he was disgusted at the thought of engaging with me in that manner had I not felt the same way. What we were doing was not flirting - by any stretch of the imagination. 

“You know what I’m talking about. You call her ‘Kitten,’ you both make sexual innuendos that you think fly over my head, you invite her to come over.” 

“Slow your roll, Pretty Boy. First of all, ‘Kitten’ is just a nickname I gave her the first time we met because I didn’t know what her actual name was. You know that - you were there. Second, the sexual innuendos are just playful jabs at the fact that I sleep around. Low hanging-fruit. Third, inviting her to come over might seem suspicious, but if you walk in there right now, you’ll see that nothing is going on between us. She’s just here to help.”

I wanted any excuse to walk out there myself and announce my nearby presence. Confront Spencer and tell him I heard everything. Ask him where any of this was coming from. How he could think, for even a second, that there was something between me and Morgan. 

Turns out, I didn’t need an excuse. I had already walked out. 

Spencer gulped hard when he saw me. And for that I felt sorry for him. He looked so unlike himself. His hair was disheveled like he’d ran his fingers through it a million times out of stress. His outfit was strangely untidy, the buttons of his cuff unclasped. “Could you ... did you-”

“I heard everything,” I clarified to the dumbfounded shell of a man standing at the base of Morgan’s stairs.

It was a triangle of stares between us all. Exchanging quizzical glances in a battle of wills to see who would fold first. I was looking at Reid, Reid was looking at me, then he looked at Morgan, who looked back at him, then at me. Like I said, a triangle of stares. 

“Um ... I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll just be inside.” 

I suppose there were worse ways to finally get Morgan off his ass and working. 

Reid trailed Morgan with his eyes, while I simply waited for the sound of the door shutting behind me. It took a few more seconds until one of us had the gall to speak.

“Did you mean what you said? About liking me?” This question that I posed went unanswered for what felt like minutes. Looking at Reid, I could tell he wanted to say something, he just didn’t know what. 

The soul was willing, but the flesh was weak. 

“If you’re not ready to admit it, that’s okay. But then why did you really come here, Spencer? To yell at Morgan for possibly making a move on me? Because now’s your chance. Make your move, Spence.” I descended the stairs, stopping to stand on the very last step so I’d hover a mere inch above him. “Make a move.” 

Make a move, he did.

Warm, clammy hands that were disproportionately bigger than the rest of his body caught my face so that unbelievably, inconceivably soft lips could make their fierce attack with no resistance. His fingers laced through my hair until his hand found the nape of my neck. He used that as leverage to pull me impossibly closer. 

When he was just one step away from sucking my soul out of me, I laid my palm on his chest and pushed him slightly backward. I think I heard him laughing when I did this, probably to hide the shame of letting himself commit so fully to the moment that he forgot just how intense his passion was. 

His eyes fluttered open and his lips were still contorted in a pucker. It took him a second, but it finally came. 

“I meant what I said,” He confessed ever so nonchalantly as though it were the easiest thing in the world to him, despite being unable to come even close to admitting it just minutes before. “I like you. A lot.” 

It was me who laughed then, both from the sheer elation hearing him say that brought me and the distant, exasperated comment that came from within the house. 

“Well, finally! It’s about damn time!” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

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[piano-k-fish]

In Defense of Cauldron,

For reasons I cannot even being to fathom, the fandom as a whole have decided that Cauldron is stupid, incompetent, and evil, when nothing could be further from the truth. In this mini-essay I will explain to y’all why Cauldron is good actually, and the haters are fools. Spoilers for Worm and Ward.

Cauldron Won

At the end of Gold Morning, there were survivors. Billions of people, across multiple worlds, survived, and only a single earth was rendered uninhabitable. This is a victory, and a good victory. The original plan for the cycle was the utter destruction of all possible earths, and Eden's death did not prevent this possibility from happening. Given these stakes, a single earth surviving is victory. Enough people surviving that humanity doesn’t die of inbreeding is a win, even if all society is destroyed and they are forced to rebuild society from the ground up. With these stakes, the losses seen on Gold Morning are nothing, a fraction of a fraction of what would be acceptable losses. When you're operating on Caldron’s scale, a single earth is nothing.

Cauldron’s Plan worked

Cauldron's final plan is fairly easy to see, if you look at the kind of capes they made during canon, and generally how they operate. They wanted to get as many powerful capes together as they could, either by natural triggers, like Armsmaster or Dinah, Cauldron organized triggers, like Lung, or vial capes, like Legend and Alexandria (who A: absolutely let Skitter kill her, she hung out with several precogs and regularly fought the hydrokinetic, bugs in the lungs wouldn’t kill her unless she chose to die, and B: died in such a way that none of her powers were lost to the war effort.) These capes were then to be united in one place and mastered en masse to fight against Scion, forming an imitation of an entity that would hopefully put Scion down. Portals would be used to unite all the capes in the multiverse under one master, who could ideally either be motivated by the existential threat posed by Scion, or controlled by Contessa. This is exactly what happened, and what killed Scion.

Ethics Don’t Matter to the Dead

Was what Cauldron did, in a vacuum, ethical? Of course not, any harm in a vacuum is unethical, that’s the nature of vacuums. Was the harm Cauldron did worth it to save all life on earth? That’s maybe the biggest question in ethics, what harm makes an ultimate good excuse. Answers vary from nothing to anything, but I don’t think anyone has the authority to morally condemn them, to say what cauldron did was objectively incorrect, because ethics don’t work like that. There is no true right, only what cannot be justified, and whole schools of philosophy have been devoted to why what Cauldron did was ethically justifiable. The final question is maybe the simplest: could Cauldron have won while doing less evil? While it is impossible to truly say, I think that generally speaking, if multiple powerful procogs agree that it’s necessary, then it’s necessary. Furthermore, the scale Cauldron operated on was actually pretty small, in the grand scheme of things. They kidnapped, mutated, and killed, at most, tens of thousands of people. It can’t be more than 175000, which is the weekly death toll of hunger in our current world, according to the UN. So, all lives being equal, Cauldron is significantly less lethal than a week of capitalism, and worked towards a much better cause. If you want to measure harm against benefit, than it's almost impossible to conclude that Cauldron is evil.

The Simurgh and Pure Evil

Cauldron, really, had one main weakness, it was banking on every thinker powerful enough to know about them and disrupt their plans putting their duty to mankind, or at least their own interest in survival, ahead of any megalomaniacal power grab or weirdly specific ethical hangup (Seeing as Cauldron is less lethal than most of the effects of capitalism, actors like Accord can be pushed to compromise with Cauldron to solve greater evils, without even having to read them in to the threat of Scion.) If worst comes to worst, Cauldron could just send Eidolon or Contessa to kill them. Enter the Simurgh, an incredibly powerful precog that is immune to all thinker abilities, is almost impossible to kill, isn’t human, and has no self preservation instincts. A being like this could not be anticipated, could not be stopped, and could barely be planned around. Much of the horrors that can be attributed to Cauldron were done either as part of a Simugh plot, or in reaction to her. While it can be argued that this is Cauldron’s fault, as there is some textual evidence that Eidolon is at least connected to the Endbringers, I find it equally likely much of that connection was fabricated in order to destroy Eidolon. It worked, after all. The truth will never be known, unless we want to get deep in the death of the author.

Finally, a note on Jack Slash

The method that Scion chose to end the world wasn’t what entities normally use, harvesting a world and reducing it to energy to fuel the next cycle. Scion didn’t even choose to act as lethally as possible, using precognition and bio tinkering to create something to wipe out all life on earth. Instead, he followed the philosophy of Jack Slash. Jack convinced Scion to act, not with malice towards humanity, but with disregard. Scion wants to bring extinction to humanity not because he cares about humanity, but because it might make him feel better, just as Jack kills because he doesn’t care about the lives he takes, and he enjoys killing. Jack was necessary to trigger Scion into the slowest and least destructive omnicide possible.

https://www.un.org/en/chronicle/article/losing-25000-hunger-every-day

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

WIP... Tuesday?

Just in case anyone was wondering what useless novelty project I’m spending my time on now, may I introduce:

Or more accurately: “Shisui Uchiha and the Saga of the Overly Complex Movie Poster that’s Taking Up all of the Author’s Writing Time.”

Or: “Shisui Uchiha and the One-off Story that Accidentally Turned Into a Trilogy, much to the Author’s Total Lack of Surprise.”

So anyway, I have 30,000 words (3/9 chapters of the first part) so far and as usual, no timeline for completing this story. But I’m definitely in too deep to back out now! My new approach to stories is to write the whole thing, then post week by week. So this one is still probably several months away at least...

But here’s a quick preview:

The list of things Shisui Uchiha regrets in his life is pretty small.

A handful of ill-considered one night stands, several embarrassing bets with members of his family, the summer he decided to turn emo, oh—and one particularly notable fuck-up early in his career that very nearly ended it prematurely. But, for the most part, it’s been smooth-sailing.

Sure, maybe the odd rival takes a pot shot at him here or there. Ancient booby traps try to kill him, or the local wildlife steps in where they’ve left off. He and spiders are categorically never going to get along. But he’s never had cause to regret his career itself. He loves everything about treasure hunting—the adventure, the danger, the intellectual challenge of it all. The way his heart races when he finds some ancient artifact supposedly lost for good.

So, all in all, his current position—perched twenty feet up a silk cotton tree in India, surrounded by about two-dozen armed thugs personally out for his blood—well, that’s just another day at the office.

Two of the men walk below Shisui’s hiding place and he holds his breath, watching. They’re thick-built meat-heads; improbable amalgams of every jackbooted thug to ever grace a movie screen, with jawlines Chuck Norris could break a fist on, and brows that would make a Neanderthal proud. Supressing the snicker that threatens to escape him at the thought, Shisui wonders where Gato keeps finding these idiots. Some sort of steroid-fuelled body building conference maybe…

Comfortable they’re far too stupid to realise he’s here, he swings his legs back and forward, checking his bag to make sure his prize is still undamaged. Thankfully, despite having beaten a hasty retreat through the crowded city streets, the jewel-encrusted golden elephant winks up at him like a winning lottery ticket. One that’s going to pay for fancy canapes, champagne and extra leg room on Shisui’s flight home. Then a lot more afterwards.

But karma, as they say, is a bitch.

And karma, for Shisui, makes itself known in the form of a fluffy grey creature that plops down onto the branch beside him, joined in short order by half a dozen other partners in crime. At first, the macaque just fixes its intelligent gaze on Shisui, as though assessing what to do with him. Then, one very pregnant pause later, after the apparent realisation that no food is immediately forthcoming, the ringleader opens its mouth and screams. Loudly.

Shit.

“No, shhh…” Shisui orders in a loud whisper. “Oh come on, don’t be an asshole.”

The screaming continues, soon swelling to a cacophony as the others join in.

“Shoo!” he pleads, waving his arms around to try and scare them off. “I’ll buy you bag of bananas or something when I get down from here, just please shut up…”

But the little bastards don’t stop and, if anything, Shisui’s heated objection only seems to be pissing them off more. Which is fantastic, because truly the last thing he needs today is to catch rabies or—

From the bottom of the tree, someone clears their throat. “Ahem.”

Or that.

It’s smug, officious, and quite frankly, about the last voice Shisui wants to hear right now. Every part of him sinks. On reflection, maybe it was a bit arrogant to think he wouldn’t have been followed to the temple. To think he was just going to walk in, pilfer a several-centuries old treasure, and walk out again, a comfortable five-figure sum the richer for it.

But then, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Sighing, he looks down to see his least-favourite human approximation of a turd. “Gato.”

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favourite globe-trotting Uchiha. Fancy seeing you here,” Gato says, appearing inordinately pleased. His trademark sunglasses sit awkwardly atop his bulbous nose, straddling a pencil moustache that looks like a worm met its unfortunate end on his face some years ago, and he never bothered to wipe it off.

For reasons he can’t currently articulate, it annoys the shit out of Shisui. Possibly because if there’s anything he hates more than someone getting the better of him, it’s someone who’s as much of a fucking waste of space as Gato getting the better of him.

“Yeah well, you know how it is,” he says, glancing around for a quick exit. “Ancient treasures to find, damsels in distress to rescue…”

But unfortunately, the crowd of highly armed men around Gato is growing by the second, and Shisui’s options are looking somewhat thin on the ground. At least, all the ones that don't end with him riddled in bullet holes. Damn macaques…

Gato grins. In the pre-monsoon heat, sweat rolls down his neck and spreads like an oily stain across his collar. “Oh, I’m well aware of how you operate... You’re a businessman, just like me. Always taking jobs for the highest bidder.” Before Shisui can open his mouth to disagree, Gato holds up a hand, adding, “I know, I know… you don’t see yourself that way. Moral code or whatever it is you like to call it. But in reality, the only difference between us is that you have the air of legitimacy that comes with an academic backing, whereas I’m willing to admit what I really want.”

“And what do you want, Gato?” Shisui asks flatly, already knowing the answer. The tired old game they’re playing here.

“That trinket you have in your bag.” Gato licks his lips, as though he can taste the champagne he’s going to be drinking once he returns the statue to whoever hired him, to disappear into some private collection, never to see the light of day again.

“What do I get in return?” Shisui asks, even though it’s obvious from Gato’s expression that he’s not going to like it, whatever it is.

A mirthless laugh assaults his ears. “I’ll let you live to cross paths with me another day.”

As offers go, it’s not very believable. But as much as Shisui hates to admit when his luck’s run out, even he can see the writing on the wall. Today really isn’t his day. Sure, he might trust Gato about as far as he could throw him, but even Gato isn’t stupid enough to shoot him on a main street, in broad daylight. Probably…

Retrieving the golden elephant from his bag, Shisui tosses it carefully down.

Turning the trinket over in his hands, Gato lets out a hum of appreciation. “Very nice. My client will be pleased.” He hands it off to one of his many thugs to box up, then peers back through the branches, looking more like a slug than Shisui would ever have thought possible. Reinforcing the impression, his lips twist with a slimy smile. “Well, as always, it’s been nice doing business with you Shisui. But I think, unfortunately, you’ve caused me trouble for the last time.”

Far too pleased for Shisui’s taste, Gato steps back, raising his hand in a gesture that looks awfully like it’s intended as a final farewell. Or a smug ‘fuck you.’ Either way, the message is perfectly clear.

Shisui rolls his eyes, mentally scratching off another predictable villainous turn on his treasure hunting bingo card. “All right,” he calls after Gato’s retreating back. “Nice doing business with you too! See you next time...” Under his breath he mutters, “Asshole…”

Truly, Gato doesn't have an original bone in his body. It's like he once read The Idiots Guide to Being a B-Grade Movie Villain, then internalised it on the spot to make up for a lack of anything remotely resembling a personality. But, pathetic imitation of a villain or not, his bullets are still effective.

The leaves around him shred beneath the pop, pop of gunfire as Shisui sucks in a rushed breath, bracing himself for what he’s about to do. The branch wobbles precariously beneath his feet as he races along it, pushing off into air that rushes past, disconcerting and empty. The slender gap to the building seems to widen to the span of a gaping abyss—

He hits the rail of the apartment with thud, clambering quickly over it to fall on his back on the balcony, winded, but mercifully unharmed. A macaque peers over the guttering at him, with a leering grin that clearly threatens more screaming.

“Don’t you start,” he warns, waggling a finger at it.

But there’s barely a moment to catch his breath before the sound of splintering wood below indicates another problem. Or an extension of the same one. Bounding to his feet, Shisui scoops up his hat, settles it back on his head, and checks over the railing. A bullet clips the plaster nearby—a pretty good indication that Gato’s men have every idea where he’s gone. That, combined with the way they’re currently pushing through the lower doors to the complex probably doesn’t mean anything good for him.

“Shit,” he announces to no one in particular. It’s times like these he really wishes he carried a gun…

Forcing his way into the mercifully empty apartment off the balcony, Shisui slips quickly through it. Cracking open the door on the far side, he checks the coast is clear. It is.

Of course, it doesn’t stay that way for long. Halfway along the open air corridor, there’s a cry of discovery from his pursuers, followed by more shooting. Seriously, why are the bad guys always bringing guns to Shisui’s knife fights?

Ducking, he runs faster, bursting into another apartment filled with hazy cigarette smoke and shocked faces before finally making it to an exterior stairwell on the far side. Looking at the next building over, it’s immediately apparent the gap is way too far for him to use the same trick he did before. But with Gato’s men advancing on him from below, maybe he can just make it to street level and bypass them altogether…

A thicket of power cables criss-crosses the span between the buildings, with one nearby running almost to the level of the shop awnings below. Sending a rash of silent prayers to whatever gods take care of Indian power line maintenance, Shisui detaches a length of rope from his belt and flings it over the wire, gripping each side like a makeshift zipline. Holding his breath, he pushes off into empty space. To his surprise and considerable delight, the line holds.

It sweeps him across the street, picking up more and more speed, until the side of the other building is rushing at him like—

Shit.

He impacts it with his shoulder, coming to an uncomfortable and jarring stop. Pain shoots down his arm and he lets go of the rope, crashing through a fabric awning and landing ungracefully in a huge stack of bagged flour. Dust floats down around him and Shisui groans, moving each of his limbs in turn. By some miracle, nothing seems broken. Not even his tantō in its leather holster at his back.

Oh well. Fall down seven times, stand up eight…

Apparently his exit was none too subtle though, because Gato’s men are leaning over the stairwell railing, yelling and pointing at the mess he’s made. Dragging himself to his feet, Shisui evades an angry store owner, brushes flour off of his clothes and resumes running for his life.

Never let anyone say archaeology is boring.

As he emerges back onto the main street, searching for quick and easy exit, the sound of screeching brakes and angry honking carries from the road. Cutting a wild path through traffic is an old open-top olive-drab Jeep with several gold charms dangling from its rear-view mirror. It jerks to a stop just before hitting Shisui, both side wheels riding up on the curb.

“Need a ride?” the female driver asks, grinning.

Her windswept hair hangs past the fashionable silk scarf tied at her neck. Unmanicured nails wrap around the slender metal of the steering wheel, like they couldn’t be more at home there. They’re a stark contrast with the cream suit linen she’s wearing, rolled up neatly to her elbows. Speckled with dirt, it looks like she’s probably travelled halfway across the country to be here, and been up to her elbows in the grease of the Jeep’s engine at some point to do it. She’s a walking contradiction—albeit one Shisui is delighted to see.

“Izumi!” he exclaims happily.

Eyes sparkling, she waves. “Hey.”

“I thought you were practicing on the course in Reno this weekend… What’re you doing here?”

A shot rings out, kicking up dust near one of the tyres. Glancing behind him, Izumi rolls her eyes, reaching across to throw open the door. “What am I always doing? Saving your ass, you idiot... Now get in before one of us gets shot, or I have to find out whether my rental insurance covers illegal firefight damage.”

[eddieeatsass]

If you’re accepting prompts can I get a small smutty Bichie one shot? Preferably including a lollipop and Bill with an oral fixation

I clearly don't know the definition of "small"... so here's 4k words instead uhhhhhhI'msosorry please enjoy this debauchery

Read over on AO3 or under the cut ♡

A lollipop is simply a lollipop until you give it to Bill Denbrough; when in his clutches it becomes a weapon of arousal. It would be fundamentally impossible to see Bill sucking on a lollipop and not pop a boner. Well, maybe it would be possible if you didn't have a dick, and oh what Richie would give to be in that category right now.

The thing is, Bill always seemed to have something in his mouth. He was a chronic nail biter, went through two packs of gum a day, was known to bum a cigarette off Bev every once in a while, and Richie's pretty sure he even caught him sucking his thumb one time at a sleepover.

But lollipops were by far the worst.

"My mom is gonna kill me."

Richie was snapped out of his hyper fixation, his attention pulled back into the conversation as Eddie voiced his newest worry.

"You can borrow one of my shirts if we stop by my place on the way back." Stanley offered, eyeing the big brown stain that now interrupted the pink of Eddie's sweater.

"She'll notice if I'm wearing a different shirt." Eddie objected, scrubbing at the spot with a napkin.

"We can throw yours in the wash and you'll be wearing it again by the time you go home." Beverly suggested, trying to defuse Eddie’s heightening anxiety.

"Yeah, my parents won't mind." Stan added encouragingly.

"This is the last time I ever order a chocolate shake. From now on, vanilla only." Eddie grumbled, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Awe come on Eds, we all know you’re anything but vanilla.” Richie joked, jumping at the opportunity to think about someone else’s sex life instead of his own.

“Fuck off, Rich.” Eddie snapped back with little bite.

“It’s not a secret, we all know you’re a little freaky-”

“You’re the freak! Quit talking about my personal business!” Eddie was getting red in the face, but around him the rest of the Losers were doing little to hide their snickers. Even Bill, whose mouth pulled into a grin around that fucking lollipop.

And Richie was back to square one.

“My parents are gonna be home in a couple hours so if we want the house to ourselves, we should go now.” Stan mentioned, standing up from his spot at the corner of their booth, allowing Bill, Beverly, and Eddie to file out after him.

“So, we’re not going to the Quarry anymore?” Ben asked, sliding out of the other side of the booth and throwing an extra ten dollars on the table as a tip. He grabbed one of the complimentary lollipops that had been left with their receipt and began unwrapping it.

“We won’t have time if we want to keep Eddie alive.” Mike mentioned.

“Then perish.” Richie said, straight faced.

“We don’t all h-have to go to S-S-Stanley’s.” Bill said, drawing Richie’s attention back, once again, to his sinful mouth.

This was becoming a problem.

They ended up splitting three ways; Eddie, Stanley, and Mike went off on their attempt to save Eddie’s shirt, Ben and Beverly decided to go on to the quarry, and Richie ended up sticking with Bill after they’d both agreed that it was too hot to stick to their original plans.

Though, Richie would probably have agreed with Bill no matter what he’d decided.

They arrived at Bill’s place twenty minutes later, heaving hot breaths from their trek in the summer sun.

"You want s-s-something t-to drink?" Bill panted, toeing off his shoes at the doorway but not bothering to chastise Richie when he kept his on.

"Depends whacha got, Denbrough." Richie followed him into the kitchen, hopping up on the countertop as Bill opened the fridge.

"Coke, orange j-juice, and m-milk." Bill announced, his head hidden behind the big metal door.

"Toss me a coke." Richie decided easily, never one to pass up the opportunity for more sugar.

Bill resurfaced with two cans in hand, passing one to Richie and carrying the other across the room where he reached into the cabinet that held the straws.

"Why do you drink everything through a straw?" Richie asked, his cock giving an annoying twitch as Bill brought the straw to his lips and took a sip before answering.

"It just tastes b-better that way." Bill shrugged.

Richie could feel the joke forming in his throat before he could think better than to speak it.

"I know something else that tastes better cumming straight from the straw."

Damn his quick wit.

Bill froze, straw caught between those pretty pink lips as he stared at Richie with an unreadable expression.

"It's your penis, isn't it." Bill deadpanned.

"Yep." Richie responded, popping the 'p' at the end of his statement in sync with him hopping off the counter.

"N-not some of your best work, Rich-ch-ie." Bill teased, biting down around his straw with a flirty grin.

Richie's face flushed a violent shade of red, having to do a double take just to check that his mind hadn't hallucinated the way Bill had smiled at him. But before he could dwell on it too much, Bill retreated to the other room.

The next few hours were torture on Richie’s dick. Bill seemed to find something new to stick in his mouth every two god damn minutes. He was like a badly trained dog.

After the straw, Bill produced a box of pocky which he spent the next hour idling chewing and sucking on. When they finished off the box, he chewed on his fingernails as they watched TV. His pencil was the next victim when they decided to try and do some homework. And finally, as they abandoned their homework for video games, Bill found a toothpick, rolling it around in his mouth like he was fucking Tom Hardy.

But at least things were contained until Richie lost the game of Mario Cart and flopped back on the bed dramatically, resulting in his lollipop from earlier tumbling out of his pocket.

“You n-never ate y-y-your lollipop?” Bill noted, picking up the small, wrapped item and twirling it in his fingers.

Richie’s not sure why his throat immediately went dry.

“I sort of forgot I had it.”

Bill eyed it with interest, which interested Richie far more than it should. He cocked an eyebrow and proceeded cautiously.

“Do you want it?”

Bill’s eyes darted back to Richie’s, quickly schooling his expression as if he’d been caught.

“Only if you d-don’t.” Bill said, trying for nonchalance, but the catch in his voice betrayed him.

A long pause stretched between them, their eyes locked in an unspoken challenge.

“I’m starting to think I do, actually.” Richie responded with much more fervor than the topic demanded.

Bill watched as Richie took the lollipop from him and began unwrapping the small red sucker. The sound from their video game’s pause screen faded into the background as blood rushed past Richie’s eardrums.

Richie was vulgar, all the Losers knew that; he’d been making jokes about his dick since he first learned he had one. But this was something different. Richie wasn’t trying to be vulgar, he was trying to be… something new.

He popped the lollipop into his mouth, keeping hold of the stick so he could hollow out his cheeks and pull it back out, allowing the round candy to stretch his lips as they parted for it.

Richie continued his ministrations for another minute, keeping his eyes locked on Bill’s, whose own were locked on Richie’s mouth.

Richie, self admittedly, had no idea what he was doing. He tried to channel the pornstars he'd watched, to summon some of their sex appeal to guide him along this unfamiliar experiment. But after a moment, he realized the best person to model himself after was already sitting right in front of him.

Richie thought back to how Bill had been devouring his lollipop back at the diner, how his eyes had gone hazy, his attention far away as he moved his tongue around the sucker like it was second nature. His lips had been shiny with saliva, tinted redder than usual by the cherry flavoring.

Richie took the lollipop out of his mouth and dragged it across his lips lightly, as if he were applying lipstick. It glided easily, sticky with spit, and did the job as it left Richie with a tinted smirk.

He loosened his jaw and let it fall open, allowing his tongue to loll out to lick a stripe up the lollipop in what he hoped was a good imitation of what one would do with a cock. To be fair, Richie had never sucked a cock before, so he was blindly guessing. But it seemed to do the trick, because Bill's eyes suddenly broke from their trance, squeezing shut.

"Not f-f-fair, R-Rich..." Bill's voice was broken, mimicking something between a whine and a whisper.

"You want something to suck on, Billy?" Richie asked, surprising himself with his sure-fire tone.

Bill was still for a moment, but when he opened his eyes again, there was something new behind his blown-out black pupils. He nodded meekly, as if scared to admit anything aloud just yet.

"Well jeez, Bill. I've only got the one." Richie gestured with his lollipop, as if to prove his point. “I may have something else for you to suck on though.”

It was a poor attempt at a joke, absent of the usual air of humor that accompanied Richie’s jests. But maybe that’s because it wasn’t much of a joke at all; even though neither of them were quite ready to admit it, they could both feel the change in the air between them.

“Anything.” Bill’s voice was still quiet, but it had steadied out as if the prospect of Richie’s suggestion had sated something in him. Richie had to suppress a shiver.

Richie twisted his body to spring off the mattress, and the sudden action caused Bill to follow, moving himself to sit up on his knees and face where Richie stood at the end of the bed.

Neither of them knew how to proceed, cautious to cross the other’s boundary but excited by the new thrum in the air. Richie was the first to move.

He removed the lollipop from his mouth and place it on Bill’s nightstand before reaching forward and cupping Bill's chin, tipping his head up to lock their eyes. Moving slowly, allowing Bill time to move away if he wanted, he let the pad of his thumb gently trace the outline of rosy red lips, and Bill obediently opened under the touch. He darted his tongue out to lick at Richie's finger, wrapping around it and leading him back into his open gape. Once Richie's thumb was resting inside the warm entrance, Bill closed his lips around his knuckle, and with the most confidence Richie had ever seen on Bill, he began to suck.

It was the filthiest thing Richie had ever fucking witnessed in person, and for a moment he was sure he'd been transported to some alternate porn dimension. Bill moved like he knew exactly what he was doing. Richie wondered absently if Bill had done this before, not sucking the life out of someone's thumb, but sucking the life out of something else.

Bill's tongue licked up the sides of his finger like he was trying to catch the drips from a popsicle, and then he was biting down gently into the pad of his thumb, making Richie shiver delightfully.

He pulled off with a heave of breath before uttering four words that were enough to leave Richie speechless.

"Let me taste you." Bill begged.

Richie could have cum on the spot at the mere fact that Bill was so lust-drunk just from sucking on his finger that he didn't even stutter. But if he did, he'd miss out on probably the best blowjob of his life (the only blowjob of his life, thus far), so he had to keep it together.

Now, let it be known that Richie isn't proud of how quickly he whipped out his dick. There was no grace, no sensual teasing or tantalizing movements; it was all fumbling fingers and uncoordinated shimmies as he struggled to get his dick to hit the air before Bill somehow decided to change his mind.

"Uh... Taa-daaaaa." Richie pointed in the direction of his erection with two unsure hands, an awkward moment passing until Richie glanced upwards.

Bill wore an amused smirk when Richie reverted his attention back to him. It was endearing, but Richie already missed the blissed out, desperate expression he'd had not mere seconds ago.

So, Richie decided he would just have to do better. If he wanted to wipe that smirk off Bill’s face, he’d have to step up. No more awkwardness or unsure movements, Richie needed to take control.

Besides, his life moto was "fake it 'till you make it", why couldn't it apply here as well?

Richie willed his hand to stop shaking before he reached out and carded his fingers through familiar auburn locks, pushing them off Bill's forehead and holding them back with a firm grip. That same grip allowed him to pull Bill's head forward, leading him until he was right in front of Richie's cock.

That look that Richie was chasing slowly began to filter back in. Bill's eyes glazed over as he gazed down at the leaking head being offered to him, his jaw going slack as he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, and finally his whole body followed as it slumped forward with the first lick to Richie's head.

Richie felt drunk, his own head swimming with arousal and a lack of blood flow. Bill looked so good like this; Richie wasn't sure he would ever recover from the image.

But if looks alone were enough to kill, the feeling of Bill's mouth must have summoned him back from the afterlife just to murder him a second time.

When this was all over and Richie had had his brains blown out of him, literally, he was gonna have a lot of questions for Bill. Mainly, had he done this before, and if not, then where the hell had he learned to do that thing with his tongue.

It wasn't long before Bill ceased his lapping and moved to take Richie into his mouth in full. Richie wasn't one to brag (a lie he told himself) but he could physically see the strain on Bill's jaw as it struggled to open wide enough to take his whole cock. Though, if Richie were being honest with himself, it probably had more to do with the size of Bill's mouth than the size of Richie's appendage. But for the moment he allowed himself the ego-boost.

"Bill, jesus fuck, that feels good..." Richie's own voice came out unfamiliar to him, wavering far more than he'd have liked. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"You've always looked good with something between your lips, but fuck, it's like you were made for this."

Bill disconnected from Richie's cock with a wet slurp and Richie had to swallow down the noise his body tried to make in response.

"S-s-so you w-were staring at the d-diner earlier." Bill's gaze was mischievous, as if he'd caught Richie in a lie and now he'd earned himself a prize.

"I'm pretty sure everyone was staring, Billy. You were basically fellatio-ing the damn lollipop."

"F-fellatio-ing isn't a word R-Richie."

"I'm the one getting fellatio'd right now, I think I'd know."

"Well, you won't be for m-m-much longer i-if you keep making up w-w-words."

"How do I shut you up? Where's your off button."

Bill glanced down at the cock still held in his hand, and then slowly raked his eyes back up Richie's form. The implication was clear, and Richie was more than happy to oblige.

Richie replaced Bill's hand with his own, his other flying back into Bill's hair to pull him closer. He led Bill back to the head of his cock, taking a moment to paint his lips with the pre-cum that had pearled at the slit. Bill's lips felt like velvet as he rubbed himself against them, but it wasn't nearly enough.

“Open.” Richie commanded, honestly surprised when he was met with obedience instead of a snarky remark. It made his cock twitch as it entered Bill’s mouth.

No more accurate definition of euphoria came to mind as Richie sunk into the heat of Bill’s mouth, shuddering as every inch of his cock was enveloped. Bill kept his eyes squeezed shut as he willed his jaw to take everything Richie was giving him.

When Richie felt the head of his cock reach resistance, he still had about half of his shaft exposed. There was nowhere else to go unless Richie was going to start feeding it down Bill’s throat, and while that thought did make a new rush of arousal flood his body, he didn’t think now would be the best time to try it.

At the pause in movement, Bill opened his eyes, blinking away tears that had gathered along his eyelashes. Richie could see the cogs turning in Bill’s head as he assessed the situation in front of him in the same way Bill problem solved every roadblock he encountered: with reckless determination.

Bill tried to move himself forward, quickly realizing his mistake as his gag reflex kicked in. The resulting noise was so much hotter than it had any right to be, and Richie had to physically hold himself back from trying to trigger it again.

In stubborn acceptance, Bill brought his hand up to circle around the rest of the shaft he couldn’t fit inside his mouth. Richie loosened his grip on Bill’s hair to allow him to move however he needed, and instantly Bill’s head began bobbing in tandem with small twists of his wrist.

“Holy shit, ahhhhh- what the fuck D-Denbrough.” Richie’s words spilled out in a rush, tripping over themselves with a quiver.

Bill pulled back until only the crown of Richie’s cock laid between his lips, setting his tongue to work at the slit as if he could coax out more of Richie’s pre-cum just like that. When Richie’s thighs began to quake, Bill tilted his head and moved ever so slightly so his tongue could lap at the soft tissue that connected Richie’s head to the rest of his cock.

Richie released a sound that would have been embarrassing in any other circumstance, high-pitched and needy in tone. It only seemed to make Bill move faster.

Bill moved back down the shaft, running his tongue along what he could reach, his hand working the rest. He began picking up pace, flitting his eyes open and gazing up at Richie with pure lust-blown pupils.

Richie had a flashback to earlier that day, watching Bill suck on his lollipop with poorly feigned innocence, juxtaposed with the debauched expression he wore now. There was no fooling anyone, Bill wanted this. He needed this. He’d probably needed it for a long time, and that thought spurred Richie on.

“You wanna taste me, huh?” Richie began thrusting in time with Bill, punching a pleasured moan out of him. He chanced a glance down at Bill’s lap for the first time since they’d begun fooling around and noticed the bulge straining to escape his jeans. It gave Richie even more satisfaction to know Bill was deriving just as much pleasure from this as he was.

“Bet I taste better than that fucking lollipop, ahhh, fuck-” Richie’s thrusts were getting unsteady. He could see drool escaping the corners of Bill’s mouth as he struggled to keep up with Richie’s pace.

Richie was getting close, the warmth in his belly coming to a boil as the heat around him become too much to bear. Richie pulled his shirt up, holding it bunched to his chest so he would have a better view of Bill’s face as he swallowed Richie’s cum.

That thought is what finally pushed Richie over the edge, screaming out a delayed warning that did neither of them much good as Richie’s cock was already emptying into Bill’s mouth.

Thankfully, Bill didn’t seem to mind the lack of a warning, doubling his efforts to suck Richie through his orgasm, taking more of him in than he had been able to before.

Reckless determination.

Richie was squeezing his eyes so tight that stars began to illuminate the black sky behind his lids. A fuzzy feeling accompanied them, starting in his head and spreading through his limbs. It mixed with the overwhelming pleasure in each of his nerve endings, dizzying him with overwhelming sensations, and then there was nothing.

Richie thinks he must have blacked out for a second because suddenly he’s splayed across Bill's bed, staring up at the ceiling. His fingertips were still tingling, and his throat was dry and hoarse, but those were the only indications that what just happened hadn't just been a dream.

Richie propped himself up on his elbows, looking around the room in an attempt to piece things together. Bill was nowhere to be found, which made Richie entertain the dream idea even more. He could have fallen asleep on Bill’s bed, had a wet dream inspired by Bill's casual affair with lollipops… he probably moaned in his sleep and scared Bill off, even.

“Drink.”

Richie nearly jumped out of his skin as Bill suddenly appeared beside him.

“Holy fuck, Casper! Warn a guy!”

A cup of water was thrust into Richie’s hands, and without having to think much about it he brought it to his lips and downed a generous amount. His throat thanked him immediately.

“What were you m-m-mutt-ttering about?” Bill asked, hopping on to the bed beside Richie and causing the mattress to wobble them both slightly.

“I was just… trying to figure something out…” Richie raked his eyes up and down Bill’s form, trying to find any sign that he’d actually had Richie’s cock down his throat not even five minutes ago, but the boy looked as kempt as usual.

“Okay, w-well once you figure it out, can y-y-you put your dick b-back in your pants? Georgie is gonna b-be home soon.”

Richie blanched, moving comically slow as he looked down at his lap, revealing that his dick was, as stated, very much not in its confines.

Bill shifted beside him, and it was enough to shake Richie out of his ‘holy shit that actually happened it wasn’t just a dream bill denbrough is a fucking dick sucking god’ epiphany.

Once he was all tucked back in and had finished the glass of water Bill had generously (and forcefully) provided, he finally allowed himself to look at his friend again.

Bill was already watching him, a gentle smile playing on his features as he rolled the lollipop from earlier around in his mouth.

“You’re fucking insatiable, you know that?” Richie’s heart was thrumming in his chest, unanswered questions clawing to get out. But before he had a chance to ask them, Bill removed the candy from his mouth just long enough to lean forward and capture Richie’s lips in a kiss.

It was a little shy, a little tender; the complete opposite from the way Bill’s mouth worked itself along his cock. Richie decided that he liked it that way.

When Bill pulled back, they were both red enough to rival the lollipop in Bill’s hand, which he wasted no time in replacing between his lips.

“By th-the w-way,” Bill began, settling into Richie’s side and reaching for his controller to unpause their game. “You d-don’t taste better th-th-than a lollipop.” That playful smile was back on Bill’s lips.

“I guess I can’t compete with artificial cherry flavor.” Richie conceded, following Bill’s lead and retrieving his own controller.

“I still like you b-better.” Bill stated with so much certainty that Richie felt his whole world solidify.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael in the Mainstream: The Suicide Squad

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[smokeybrandreviews]

Smokey brand Retrospective: Red Pill Me

Cinemacon has passed and there has been a lot of awesome sh*t revealed. On the top of that list, obviously, Spider-Man: Far From Home has me geeked to high heaven but there were a ton of other noteworthy reveals. There was some Batman reveals, a few Mission Impossible 7 and Top Gun 2 trailers, plus audiences ever got a surprise screening of Ghostbusters: Afterlife. Now, that would be great on it's own but cats even got a little sizzle real for Matrix Resurrections: The long gestating fourth Matrix film. Apparently, this thing is releasing in December. I am lukewarm at best. I have fond memories of the Matrix trilogy as a whole but, since it’s final release some twenty years ago, the Wachowskis have been revealed to be one trick ponies. They kind of suck at film making. I mean, i liked Speed Racer but i just generally enjoy Speed Racer. It helped tremendously that Christina Ricci was Trixie, too, but everything after that was kind of balls. I also really like V for Vendetta but that’s not real their movie, they just adapted it. I guess you can say that about Speed Racer, too. Anyway, in light of there near Shyamalan-esque track record with their films, i wanted to revisit the first three Matrix films and see if they hold up, to try and muster some sense of excitement for what comes next.

The Matrix

Of the trilogy, this is easily the best film. Everything about it is exceptional. The Matrix was a whole ass shift in the cultural zeitgeist. It was a lot of people’s first experience with accessible cyberpunk and I'll always love it for that. I’ll also love it for normalizing Hong Kong style action sequences and giving us the most breathtaking application of Bullet Time I've seen to date. The Matrix s why the theater exists. If you’ve never seen this thing on the big screen, you missed out on something very special. I had just just turned thirteen when it released and checked it out at the dollar theater. I had only ever seen anything like this, in anime. Seeing all of my favorite Eighties OVAs filtered through the big budget Hollywood lens was incredible. I even like the rather pedestrian narrative. I think the story worked for what the movie was trying to do. It’s a shame the Wachowskis have tried to rewrite history about the narrative as of late. I understand the underlying themes of identity and sexuality but come on? That’s some college film theory bullsh*t that got tacked on after the fact. Now, if the original script is to be believed, then, yes, all of that, but what we got is not so profound. This is a basic Chosen One narrative with Dope ass effects that were ahead of it’s time.

A fr as the cast, what can i say? These motherf*ckers were perfect. Keanu Reeves as Neo was inspired. It’s wild to say that because dude is a plank but it works. He’s the POV character, he’s who you see that world through. Making him a blank slate so to speak, helps with immersion and that is a world you definitely wan to be immersed within. This was my first experience with Carrie-Ann Moss and I've loved her ever since. Her Trinity fast became one of my favorite characters and I'm actually pretty excited to see where she is in the new film. Lawrence Fishburne as Morpheus was an interesting choice. I wasn’t mad and it worked perfectly but it was weird seeing him in such an active, action oriented, role. That said, for me, this movie is made by Hugo Weaving. He is absolutely monstrous as Agent Smith. He’s got this scene chewing energy that mirrors Christoph Waltz’s Hans Landa and we all know how much i love that Nazi f*ck so that’s really high praise. To this day, I've got his Humanity is a Virus speech memorized. It was just that f*cking good! The Matrix is an exquisite watch and it is absolutely mandatory viewing if you consider yourself a fan of cinema.

The Matrix Reloaded

Whoo, boy, talk about a drop in quality. Reloaded released four years later in 2003 and it screams Studio Mandate. I was a sprightly eighteen years old when this thing dropped and made it a point to see it opening day. I really enjoyed the first outing so i figured this one would be just as amazing. Indeed, i remember leaving the theater thinking to myself how decent of a sequel it turned out to be. It wasn’t better than the first but it didn’t sh*t the bed like most follow-ups do. Fast forward to present day and, after watching this thing again for the first time in probably fifteen years, it’s kind of f*cking bad. Like, as a cinematic experience, it’s pretty tight Everything is amped up. Tons more action, way more bombastic set pieces, stakes have been raised considerably; The Matrix Reloaded is everything you want in a summer blockbuster sequel. However, that’s it. Everything else is worse. The acting has become way too hammy and the new cast members fit into this narrative like a square peg in a round hole. Why is f*cking Niobe even in this thing? Who even is the Merovingian? Why is Mouse? The pacing is all over the place, too. Like, this thing stops dead in it’s tracks on several occasions but that’s not the worst of it.

The worst thing is the narrative. What the f*ck even is the story trying to be told in this movie? It doesn’t make any f*cking sense. The Matrix was, very obviously, a standalone film. That was a closed narrative. Neo’s story had been told. Everything after that is unnecessary. This movie is an exercise in the unnecessary. I appreciate all of how unchained and manic Smith is in this but, outside of that, what the f*ck was the point of this whole narrative? It’s filler. This movie is filler and it feels like it. The returning cast is serviceable and seeing Zion was interesting. I like how all the survivors are just sweaty black people. I literally hated everyone added to the cast though. Well, that’s not quite true. I rather enjoyed Collin Chou as Seraph. Dude was inconsequential but i love seeing Asian martial artists not name Li or Chan getting some shine. Also, Monica Bellucci is in this and i kind of just love her in general. Her Persephone is absolutely disposable but she looks damn fine in that plastic wrapped dress of hers. I literally can’t be bothered mentioning anyone else. They are that forgettable. This movie is that forgettable. And it’s arguably the best of the two sequels.

The Matrix Revolutions

Talk about going out with a thud. Man, i saw this with my best friend, rest in peace B, and we both hated it. He was an even bigger fan of The Matrix than i was so his disappointment was palpable. I’ll never forget his visceral reaction when that rainbow spread across the super happy Hollywood ending. Dude was hot and he had every right to be. The first Matrix set up this intriguing, immersive, world full of fanatic visuals, great piratical stunts, and a very through provoking premise. The second Matrix was your basic Hollywood sequel; More shine, less substance. But Revolutions? Man this is peak Wachowski fail. You saw hints of this messiah sh*t in the first, it’s literally a Chosen One narrative, but thy went all in on that sh*t in Reloaded. By the time Revolutions finished, this whole narrative was so far up it’s own ass, it didn’t know which way was up. It just f*cking ends. Everyone is dead and it’s over. The Wachowskis went heavy on the Jesus imagery, they were not subtle, and the f*cking conflict just ends. Robot don’t stop using people as batteries. Flesh and blood Humans still have to live in Zion. The only thing that’s changed is Neo’s dead and Agent Smith has been deleted. That’s it. The Matrix still exists, people are still trapped in it, and everything that happened in these films doesn’t f*cking matter. Literally right back at the start of the whole goddamn conflict. Revolutions is so f*cking disappointing, dude, by every measure of that metric.

Hugh Weaving is still pretty good as Smith and Keanu does his best imitation of white bread as Neo but, like, everything else is just so pedestrian. Plus, this thing is long. Like, unreasonably so. Why the f*ck is this movie two hours? The entire trilogy is kind of like that but it’s most egregious in this one. This story could be told in ninety minutes, just like Reloaded. Why the f*ck do i have an extra half hour of bullsh*t in this? Like, that whole “Neo Lost” arc was unnecessary, in both sequels. F*cking why? I don’t hate Revolutions. It’s not a “bad” film per say, it’s just disappointing. It’s the poster child for the law of diminishing returns. The Matrix Revolutions is the what happens when you let creatives with fresh egos, run amok with one hundred and fifty million f*cking dollars. So much spectacle but even less substance that Reloaded and that motherf*cker was a hollow mess. Still, The Matrix Revolutions is better than anything Michael Bay or Zack Snyder has ever made so i guess it’s got that going for it.

[mcrmadness]

Madness draws: Behind the Scenes of the Bela/Farin: “Widumihei” comic.

A few months ago I posted here this comic:

CLICK HERE for the original post about that comic where you can see it in better and bigger size, and also reblog it ;)

And this post is just a deep dive into how I plan, do and draw my comics.

Let’s start with sketchbook things...

So every comic needs a story, right? My comics usually are born from either some dialogue I imagine in my head or by an impulsive inspiration that happens when I see something or talk with people and a random idea is triggered. I’m very good at coming up with new ideas solely based on just one word or so which is why I often ask people if they have anything they would want to see/read because I suck at coming up ideas on my own. Or I do get ideas, but not as often as I’d want to.

This particular idea was very old and I have tried but I cannot find the piece that was my inspiration but it was in some of my old German books because I remember laughing at it with either my brother or even with the German teacher in 2011 or 2012. I was only able to find my first “sketch” of the story:

This is in the notebook I used for writing down some comic ideas and even had one comic in it, plus it’s also my fanfiction writing notebook. It has no date but I know for sure it was either 2011 or 2012 because that’s when I did my last Bela/Farin comic and pretty much started my (unintentional) 6 year pause from drawing altogether.

I have always been trilingual when I do these plans for my comics, often writing the “narration” in Finnish and the dialog either in English or German because I just cannot imagine them to speaking Finnish. The translation of that text goes as:

COMIC (sarjis = sarjakuva = comic book in Finnish)

1. The phone is ringing. 2. F: “Widumihei?!” B: ? 3. B: “Farin wtf?” 4. Farin walks from another room. 5. B: “Widumihei?” 6. F: “It means, “will you marry me?”“ 7. B: *wtf* REPLAY:

1. Bela is sitting/laying somewhere. 2. The phone is ringing. Reached with his hand? 3. Looks at the phone, “wtf?”, a thought: “von Jan: Widumihei?!” 4. Bela: “Farin?” / “Jan?” 5. F comes from another room, looks in from behind the door frame or something. B: “Widumihei?” 6. F: “Widumihei: “WIllst DU MIch HEiraten”“ 7. B: “WTF”

So when I then started to draw these comics again in 2018, I kept thinking about this one too and still wanted to draw it one day. If you have read the finished comic, you may notice something different in the old plot versus new: I switched Bela’s and Farin’s roles. Back then I didn’t know too much yet but over the years I have learnt much much more about them and I just figured that asking to marry him even as a joke would be too much for Farin and that it would fit Bela’s persona much much better.

***

I had a bit of problems with getting started with this one, mainly because the last times I drew a dä comic was in June 2020, in April 2020 and before those in October 2019. Because of so long time between the comics, I just always forgot about my methods and in which order I do things and what works for me the best. So every time I started to work on a comic, I had to start completely over because all I had was blank paper and I somehow needed to get my thoughts in order and out of my head, into a physical form aka as text and images on the paper, and it’s easier said than done.

So pardon me but from this on the text is going to get a little bit confusing for a little while from now on - but it’s also a very good look over how the life with my suspected ADHD be like sometimes...

I started working on the plot once again to my sketchbook... I think it was somewhere in the beginning of 2020. Because the next idea there is from the summer. This is what the plot looked like at that point - here I had already switched their roles:

Shortly, the texts go: 1. Farin is reading a book. 2. A phone makes a noise. 3. (Farin) looks at it/read the message. / 6. B appears into the doorway. / 11. F spits out the tea.

And underneath it you can see one of the stick figure storyboards I often do in order to kinda see the text in pictures better, and I will write down or draw important aspects like expressions (Farin’s eyebrows) or things like *facepalm’* or *eyeroll* so that I remember to add them.

Next I was struggling with the era. It needed to be an era with the old mobile phones with SMS options but still not too early because I feel that Farin would have not been the first in line to buy a brand new technology object, especially not when it’s a phone. I was even googling when did Germany get their first mobile phone - I remember I got my first phone aka Nokia 5510 in 2000 or 2001 after my mom got a new one and gave her old one to me, so the story shouldn’t happen too many years before the Millenium.

Originally I planned 1997 for that - I needed to think about that based on their styles because shorter hair is harder to draw. Here’s me trying out some hairs and how they’re to draw and which era would suit my needs the best. I actually find the text hilarious altho it’s mine but this is what it’s in English:

Time period -> 1996-1997? 1998 I’ve never drawn 1999 is not that much fun to draw 2000 is already a bit too late? Bela not that much fun to draw. -2001 moustaches are not fun to draw?

I think I was struggling with my thoughts because the next thing in that sketchbook is yet another storyboard:

Or actually I think this was just to see how many sheets I’d need and how many panels I could fit on one sheet.

Anyhow, I then did other things for some time before I got back to this project this year. Including finishing with the sketchbook I had been using since 2010 (and the half of it since 2018!) and I had to get myself a new one. So when I started to think about this comic again, one night I was just thinking about some Bela/Farin scenarios as usual and suddenly I just felt that I NEED to do the comic in the 1998 style!!! So suddenly we jump from the original 1997 idea to the new era, only because of the colors. 

So asap I grabbed my sketchbook and started to look for the proper colors for the hairs:

This one I posted here before too as I was struggling a lot and just felt that I didn’t know how to draw, again. Sometimes when I feel like that, I start drawing with my non-dominant aka left hand because it doesn’t have all that in muscle memory so drawing and writing with it feels more free and it feels almost like pressing a refresh button in my brain. Suddenly the right one know again how to draw because left isn’t too well in control. The below part of the image is done completely with the left hand, including the coloring.

And because I had now a new sketchbook, I somehow couldn’t... deal with the plot and plans being in a different sketchbook than everything else so I had write the plot/dialog AGAIN, into this new sketchbook, along with the storyboards and everything:

Translations: kirja = book, puhelin = phone, oviaukossa = in the doorway, teet suusta = tea(s) out of a/the mouth. “Puhelin zoom” just means “close up to the phone screen” in Madness.

You can also see that I found out that I don’t need to do the stick figure storyboards to imitate a sheet when I can just draw this rectangle and smaller rectangles inside of it and write there numbers to match the things in the dialog to make it much easier for me to plan the pages. And here’s also a small easter egg: there’s 13 panels overall in this comic :D I almost did 12 but then felt that no, I really need to do 13 because, you know, the hairs, the era, the album title. And also because I like the number so much lmao.

So from there we get to the second storyboard which is not just stick figures anymore but just me planning how I want the panels to look like. To get the imagery of the rooms and facial expressions etc. out onto the paper so that I can see them in real life instead of my shady imagination that sometimes isn’t as vivid as what I could be.

Also have you ever tried to draw a beach chair? It’s more difficult than you’d think:

I tried to draw the same thing from the same reference photos so many times and still I always felt like I was trying to draw that impossible triangle or some other illusion image. And it just went on and on here:

Originally I also had planned the second panel to be a close up of the phone so that Farin’s face would be left at the background from the frog perspective. That’s what I was trying to with that weird-ass face on the left but turned out that I have never drawn these characters from such angle and I just... couldn’t see it in my head clearly enough to be able to draw it. So I dismissed that idea and that’s why the angle changed from a phone close-up to a side view to the room and at Farin.

As I was in the middle of planning the second page, I suddenly wasn’t happy with my original plot anymore. I wasn’t sure if it would work and needed to think about it one more time. So I wrote two other dialogs here, along with a storyboards for them both. I ended up choosing B from those two options eventually.

I don’t remember anymore if I had already done the first sketch of the comics or not but at some point I just felt that I no longer knew how to draw in my style. Sometimes you just draw and learn wrong things and wrong methods that you get used to and then you have to take a break and actually do a little bit of studying over your own style to find again the way how you want to draw, and get rid of the bad habits and find the good ones again. In my case it was to draw the eyes way way too big when they originally never were THAT big, so I had to learn how to draw them small and normal again. That’s why I did these, as I really needed to pay attention to the faces and remember how to draw them again:

The front-side views were another big readong for this “study” because I have drawn that perspective only once or twice before and I needed to figure out how I want to draw that. Also, I don’t know if it’s just me but for some reason the front-side Farin reminds me of one of the parent characters from this cartoon called The Rugrats which I watched as a kid. It was totally unintentional, but you can google The Rugrats if you don’t know how the charatcers looked like in the cartoon.

The things below are just me testing something. The red Farins were just to test how the colored pencils work on each other and how the fineliners work with the colored pencils, and which way is the better way to do the shading. And the red colored pencil was the only one available at the time so that had to do.

A little bit about the heads btw: You might notice some difference between the left and right faces. It’s because I have always, always struggled with drawing anything that is looking at right. Most of the animal portraits and all I have drawn so that they look at left because I just find it so much easier to draw. I think with comics it’s because I always start with the eye (and the eyebrows if I don’t forget it) and then do the forehead, nose, mouth and chin, and after that I either continue from the hair (from the front) or do the ear first. But when I am drawing them to look at right, I have to basically draw the mirror image and starting from the hair is not the key because it can easily mess up with the perspectives. I still usually draw everything in the same order but it really is difficult because I’m doing a mirror image and my own hand is on the way, too. Basically I’m drawing from right to left instead of left to right! (I think I should try drawing those with my left hand, then...)

And from here we get to the first sketch of the comic. From here on the images are from my phone’s camera so they are sometimes illegally bad but no can do, I again didn’t think I’d post these to anywhere:

Here you can see I was mainly just focusing on the shapes and the space inside those panels. Just trying to see the perspective and how everything is. The only thing that I drew more precisely was the third panel, with the hand and phone. I had quite a nice memory of old phones in my head but I still googled for some reference photos of Nokia 5110 phones as that was my first phone (as I mentioned earlier), and I also happened to have some of my other old phones on the table nearby so I took my own hand reference photos too:

They always say there’s a little bit of the artist in their art and this one literally has that - “Farin’s” hand is actually my hand! :D And I think the size is kinda on point too because this phone was like 2-3 times smaller than Nokia 5110 and I have small hands, and I believe Farin must have much bigger hands, so the 5110 probably would have looked about the same size in his hand.

After the first sketch, the next step was then - the second sketch:

I also wanted to add more action to the panels so that it’s interesting to look at and not just basically the same panel over and over again with just different speech bubbles, so I came up with the idea of Farin spitting out his tea not being as cartoony as it could be and that he would have to actually clean it up instead of just leaving it there just because in cartoons/comics everything is possible. That way I got more depth into the panels and it was also interesting for me to draw because I drew lots of new postures I have never drawn before, and I’m surprised how well it went despite me not even looking for any kind of reference photos! The only things I used reference photos for were the beach chair, and the phone in a hand. (I have actually always been quite good at drawing 3D objects and spaces, especially if they are rectangular.)

So yeah, this is the phase where everything is then finished with pencil and what follows next is drawing the lines with fineliners - I use Sakura Pigma Micron fineliners for everything else, and black Promarker for doing the lines for the panels (and also if I need bigger pitch black areas done).

Here are the panel lines done but I only had a photo of this first sheet.

And here are both sheets with the finelining done and all pencil marks etc. erased. I really like this part because it looks so clean when all those sketch marks are gone. It’s also crazy to think I literally spend hours drawing something in pencil only to erase it all away later :D

And here’s one photo of the coloring process, the first one has only the base colors done but none of the shadows yet (apart from the shirts), and the second one has some of the shadows done but not everything yet.

Usually after coloring, I will then go through everything with the fineliners one more time to make sure all the lines are dark enough as it just gives everything the finished yet a bit “sketchy” look that what I really like with my comics. The actual last detail is always adding my signature along with the date or year.

And here’s the finished comic one more time for comparison:

Don’t forget to check and reblog the actual post about this comic if you read this post all the way here. I’d appreaciate that a lot since art and artist on Tumblr are not really that much appreciated.

[1001galaxies]

Commentary on Netflix’s Cursed: Episode 2

Edited for language, because I have a few younger/more sensitive readers.

THE MONK SPEAKS. HOT DIGGITY DANG.

Well, DAYUM again. The monk meeting Squirrel is delicious. The LOOK in Daniel's eyes. The staging and lighting. A+

“Born in the dawn.” “To pass in the twilight.” I burst out laughing so hard. The cheesiness. But also. When it's DANIEL SHARMAN SAYING THE FIRST LINE, I mean. I M E A N.

Just watch, that’ll be the new 'may we meet again'.

Squirrel is a discount version of Blue from King Arthur: Legend of the Sword, but he's cute, so that makes up for a lot. And he does have some decent lines so far. “Do you hate them because they're so beautiful and you're so ugly.” “Even your horse is ugly.” “And I love horses.”

But, hang on, his line: “You're so ugly.” *looks at Daniel Sharman* *looks at Squirrel* *looks at Daniel* *blinks* Ah, kids.

Dang, they really do give Nimue every single flippin YA teen girl trope in the world, from both fanfic and traditional fic. Wow. That's impressive, even by my standards.

Joss: “Get up you murdering pig...tie him up...I think we've caught the big killer.” Me: You haven't caught anything, and if you think you have the upper hand with the MONK? Oh honey, you poor deluded fool.

Joss: “Ever been dragged by a horse with a hot coal up his bum?” Monk: “Not that I can recall.” Me: Dang, HIS VOICE. Me: Secondly, there are better ways to motivate horses than that, excuse you.

Monk: “I've got no interest in the boy. He's bait.” Joss: “Bait for what.” Me: Oh yeah, here we go, awriiiiiight. Monk: “For YOU.” *kicks Joss*

Who cares that Daniel is the bad guy, he's the only interesting one. Hot DANG, that roll over the horse. HE'S FIGHTING WITH HIS HANDS BOUND. Gives a new meaning to 'hands tied' Also dang. And WHAT DID I SAY, JOSS. You got owned.

Monk: *kills five or six people with //his hands bound//* Me: Now that's what I'm talkin’ about. Me: Wait, he just killed innocent people. Me: Eh, he’s still the best character so far.

How does Daniel manage to sound sexy saying “go.”

Every SINGLE time we come back to Nimue: Me: okay, booooooring.

Obviously, they’re going with the traditional representation of Bors as a brash lout. Eh. Why.

Can I have Bors played by Tom Hopper, please. He was a good Percival, but I'd like to see him play a surprisingly FUNNY and GENTLE and SMART Bors. Twist the traditional representation.

Ah yes. Cursed: LOOK AT US, WE'RE SO ENLIGHTENED AND SUBVERSIVE AND DIFFERENT that we're going to have the guy save the girl the same way 90% of all fantasy saves occur. Much impressed.

I mean, TELL her, Arthur, yes please. She didn't think, that's the problem. She just reacted with the sword. I get she’s a teen, but come ON, why must every single teenager ever—male or female—react with impulsive emotion. Not every single teen in the world always reacts with emotion first.

Well, this heroine rant is like every other YA fantasy heroine guilt-trip rant I’ve ever seen. I get being sad and emotional and being guilt-stricken because of how events have fallen out, but really on the wording? Really.

Arthur: “And I'm not a cutthroat.” And his head tilt. That's cute. Arthur is genuinely likeable so far, which is /good/. Also nice to see the guy taking care of the girl solicitously for once instead of the other way around. I do appreciate that.

And here we have the OH SO ORIGINAL trope where the heroine was bullied as a child and 'oh you made the village boys pay romantic attention to you with your magic' backstory. REALLY. REALLY NOW. I'm absolutely positive I've got YA fantasy heroine bingo at least twice over by now.

Nimue’s mum: “When you were five years old, you faced a dark god alone in the ironwood and survived.” Bingo again.

Let's play a game called: how many times can this show throw out a Game of Thrones reference/imitation?

IRONWOOD. REALLY? REALLY. Here's the thing. a) Game of Thrones did this already and called it the Godswood, and if you think people aren't going to see what you did there, you 100% have another think coming. and b) THE LAST TIME I CHECKED TRADITIONAL FAE LORE, iron KILLED and/or BURNED fae. But THAT is what you unironically* called your SACRED WOOD THAT PROTECTS YOU???? *Only being 2 episodes in, maybe I'll find out later that it was/is an ironic name, but it suuuuuuure doesn't seem like it so far.

Nimue’s mum: “You are not some fragile maid, you are a warrior..." Me: She's going to say 'and you are strong'. Nimue's mum: "And you are strong." Me: See, this isn't even fun. There's no challenge to this. Also, YA fantasy trope bingo again.

Arthur: "It's a rare blade, I'm not sure I've seen its like." AT LEAST THAT is a decent line. Normally, they say “I've never seen its like” with this awed tone, but he's just factually observing. Cool, cool.

ARTHUR WITH THE SWORD. I'm going to be an Arthurian geek for just a minute and revel in this. I know there's more to this story. Much of it is dead boring. But I'm just going to enjoy this minute because //Arthur with the sword//.

I really did not expect to like this Arthur. He's nothing extraordinary yet, but he's fun. Without being a copycat of BBC's Merlin or King Arthur: Legend of the Sword. He's just a young knight (possibly a prince somewhere along the line??) who is genuinely caring, not super arrogant, and just a DECENT AND FUN GUY. So far.

Arthur: “I've seen a lot of lives wasted fulfilling the dreams of the dead.” YES? FINALLY? SOMEONE SAID IT? I'm here for this. Call out that fantasy trope that is all well and good in some doses but is basically THE FOUNDATION OF EVERY SINGLE YA FANTASY ARC EVER, and it's so annoying. Give us some VARIETY now and then.

Nimue to Arthur: “Spoken like a true mercenary.” No, spoken like the only sensible person in the show so far, Nimue, you twit.

AW YEAH. YOU TELL HER, ARTHUR. She's shrugging off everything you say AFTER ASKING FOR YOUR HELP. Geeeeez. It’s so annoying when people do that.

Arthur: “Get an hour of sleep.” Implied: Everything looks better after sleep + you’ll need your strength. Me, who hates sleep: I feel so attacked right now. ...But he’s right.

Merlin is TOTALLY fantasy Haymitch.

Veiled Lady: “You told us the sword of the first kings was destroyed. You lied.” Okay, so MAYBE Merlin's getting mildly interesting...but are they going to do a good job with it? DOUBTFUL.

Veiled Lady: "This affects all of us, not just you. The fae are on the verge of extinction." Um, THEN WHY EXACTLY ARE YOU DOING NOTHING ABOUT IT? Is this another ‘we can’t bend the rules of heaven for mere earthlings’??

Veiled Lady: “If the church acquires the sword of power, then they will decide who wears the crown. Have you forgotten the words?” Merlin: “Forgotten them? I WROTE THEM.” Me: Okay, that's a good delivery. Merlin: “Whosoever wields the sword of power shall be the one true king.” Me: And a nice mocking accent on that, Oooh yeah, I like. Merlin: “But I'm wiser now. There IS no one true king.” Me: Huh. Now see, that's slightly interesting. Give me more of that.

Pretty sure they told Gustaf to model his Merlin on Starz Camelot's Merlin, “but make him fun and drunken.” He's got that whole Fiennes vibe going on, but also definitely fantasy Haymitch. (Someone else on tumblr said Jack Sparrow, and I could see that one too, thought not as much yet. Where I am, Merlin doesn’t seem super keen on adventuring for the sake of adventuring. He has the bitter past and cynicism of Haymitch right now. Maybe he’ll get more Jack Sparrow-y as this goes on.)

MERLIN HAS NO MAGIC BECAUSE HE GAVE IT TO THE SWORD, okay, that right there is a GOOD element, and chock full of potential. Especially his bitterness. And his insistence that he won't touch the sword again. Are they going to do a good job of using it? Dollars to donuts, NO. Ugh.

Veiled Lady: “I sense fear around the sword. But also great power.” And here we have our Galadriel imitator. Dang, I need TWO more bingo cards.

Veiled Lady: “The sword is finding its way to you, Merlin, but which end of the sword, the point or the pommel, is another question.” Me: *snorts* Cute.

Merlin: "The sword was forged in the fae fires, and to the fae fires it shall return. I shall melt it back to its origins."

Let's play another game called: how many times can this show imitate LOTR?

Veiled Lady: "You are aware the fae forges burned out a thousand years ago?" Yeah, cause Frodo and Sam destroyed Mount Doom, guys, go read your history.

Veiled Lady: “Oh dear.” Veiled Lady: “Tell me you're not planning to steal from him. Without your magic.” Merlin: “I still have my wits and my charm.” Veiled Lady: “I fear you overestimate both.” Ahem, the lady has a point.

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS:

- Arthur is still interesting. That could change super quickly, but so far, I like him.

- The Monk is beautiful, and I'm so here for upcoming stuff I won't talk about, but also for his arc period and more interactions with Squirrel.

- Squirrel is cute, but nothing above the average so far. Still, better than almost anyone else on the show.

- Merlin has the potential to be intriguing, if only they use it.

- Obviously, I'm going to keep watching.

Footnote:

I saw spoilers today about the Monk’s arc, and I'm HERE FOR IT, so here, so beyond here for it, GIVE ME THAT RIGHT THE HECK NOW. IT'S THE ONLY REASON I HAVE ANY EXCITEMENT FOR THIS SHOW RIGHT NOW.

THE WEEPING MONK AS *SPOILER* I. CAN'T. FREAKING. WAIT.

[kattahj]

Thoughts on Sword of Destiny

I finished reading Sword of Destiny weeks ago, but never got around to posting thoughts, in part because commenting on every story took some effort, but also because... well, a lot of it is complaining, and I don't want to rain on anyone's parade. But OTOH, there's a part of me that really really wants to gripe, and I did enjoy some of it. So, thoughts.

Story 1: The Bounds of Reason

I have already talked about how the descriptions of Tea and Vea made me feel like I was inside teenage Andrzej Sapkowski's locker room. There's some other not-great stuff too with Yennefer - she gets tied to a wagon, has her shirt ripped off, and the dragon baby seeks comfort in her intimate parts, all of which has Jaskier going "nice!" STFU Jaskier, you're intolerable in this.

(Note to people wondering why I'm still calling him that, I've primarily read the Swedish version, which calls him Riddarsporre, and if I used that name no one would know who I'm talking about. Calling him Dandelion feels weird, since it's neither his original name nor the one in use in the translation. So Jaskier it is.) I even got the English e-book and started taking screencaps of all the passages in this short story that made me roll my eyes over the sexism, and after 15-20 something screencaps I went, "This is way too long for a tumblr post." So now they're just lying around.

Apart from that, it's a nice story. Some things are the same, others very different. There are more people around, which is fine, but I think it was the right choice to cull the herd a bit for the show. There's more explicit discussions around hierarchies, what makes a hero, what makes a monster, and so on.

Interestingly, Geralt and Yennefer's plotline is rather reverse to what it's like in the show. In the book, she arrives pissed as FUCK at Geralt and claims she'll never forgive him, yet by the end of the story they're cozy with each other again. Which of course also means that there's no quarrel between Geralt and Jaskier either. In fact, Jaskier arrives separately and is all, "Oh, hey Geralt, I thought I'd hang around and write a new ballad," and the rest let him stay because, as they put it, he's not of any use but he's not any bother either.

I guess the way it went down in the show was in order to return Yennefer and Geralt to separate storylines for the finale and make sure Geralt is properly isolated too. (And properly grumpy - as someone pointed out, the episodes including Jaskier tend to be lighter than the others, because that's the way he sees them.)

Story 2: A Shard of Ice

In which Yennefer is fucking Geralt and Istredd on alternate days, and Istredd wants to close the relationship and tells Geralt to fuck off because he's an emotionless Witcher, and Geralt pouts. Then Istredd wants to fight to the death, and Geralt accepts, and Yennefer dumps both of their asses, and Istredd wants to fight to the death anyway, and Geralt is like, "uh, no, I'm not here to help you commit suicide" and leaves. Also there's some Snow Queen imagery shoehorned in that really could have been used better.

Yeah, this was pretty much my least favourite story of the lot. I don't like love triangles at the best of times, and this wasn't even a particularly good one. Plus, any time that guys think they can decide between themselves who gets to date a girl, they deserve to be dumped. So I was all, "good for you, Yen, go find someone better." Though of course she won't.

I also started wondering if Yennefer's based on one (or more) of Sapkowski's exes, because there are so many times where Geralt's all, "Why does she act in such a way!?" and I'm all, "I bet if you two ever TALKED PROPERLY you'd find out!"

Like. Damn. I know people complained that their love story in the show was sudden and forced, but I ship them more there than I do in the books so far.

Story 3: Eternal Flame

I quite liked this one! It's a fun little romp and expands nicely on the concept of dopplers, as well as introduces the Nilfgaardian religion. I have a feeling that I've seen the concept somewhere before, where a person imitating a merchant does a better job doing business than the merchant himself. But if it's based on a fairy tale I can't remember which one.

There is some groan-worthy stuff between Jaskier and his ex-girlfriend, but that's so minor it doesn't mar the story much. (I have to say though, book Jaskier is SUCH an asshole, and yet book Geralt is so much nicer to him. It really makes me question Geralt's judgement.)

Story 4: A Little Sacrifice

This one started with some pretty shitty stuff with the little mermaid (showcasing the recurring themes of a) boobs and b) women making demands that can be easily dismissed as unreasonable), but then we got Essi Daven, who was a good, likeable character. I enjoyed reading about her. Even Jaskier was more tolerable in this story! I was all, OMG Sapkowski, you're actually writing a woman well, go you...

...but then of course she instantly fell in love with Geralt (cue Juliet's gay friend: "You met him SUNDAY!") and we're told that she wears his pearl until she dies of smallpox a few years later. Which, of course. Of COURSE a girl who has flirted with the great Geralt of Rivia can't just get over him and live her life in peace. Oh no, it HAS to be disappointment, disfigurement and death.

So ultimately, the bits I liked made me even grumpier about the bits I didn't like. But still, Essi was fun while she lasted.

Story 5: The Sword of Destiny

This is the first one where I actually don't have any complains about Sapkowski's writing of women. The dryads are okay, their story is interesting, and the interactions between Geralt and Ciri are very cute indeed. It's rather sad that we lost those interactions in the show, though it would have been hard to include them with the way it was written, since it all depends on neither Geralt nor the reader knowing who this little kid is. (Though I'm pretty sure even unspoiled readers could guess.) Still, it makes the destiny feel more natural and not just the "family at first sight" thing we got on the show.

I basically only have two gripes, a small one and a big one.

The small one is that it's VERY HARD to take the dryads seriously when part of their Elder Language is barely disguised English slang. I don't know if this was a thing in the Polish edition, or if it happened in the English translation and was then carried through to the Swedish one, but it snaps me right out of the story when they say things like "Bloede arss!"

The big one is that either Sapkowski has no idea how children mature, or Geralt doesn't, because no WAY is Ciri ten or close to it in this story. Now, Geralt is presumably a big guy, so it's not impossible to think that he could carry a smallish 10-year-old on his shoulders... but I have a hard time seeing a 10-year-old allowing it. Or walking around snotty without caring. Or just in general talking and behaving the way Ciri does here.

To put things in perspective, 10 years old is one year younger than Harry Potter is in The Philosopher’s Stone, and two years younger than Meggie Folchart in Inkheart. The only way I can make ANY sort of sense of Ciri in this story, is by thinking that Geralt, being so old himself, has no concept of children's ages, and she's actually five or six.

Which would mean she's also being betrothed at five or six, but hey, Scandinavian Queen Margaret I was betrothed at age four, and I wouldn't put it past Calanthe. If she can sell her granddaughter at ten she can probably sell her at six too.

Story 6: Something More

Listen, I soaked up Geralt's injured hallucinations on the show, and the book is no different. Some of the dialogue with Visenna is exactly the same. I'm purring. The circumstances are different, but both versions work well. I like the way the transitions were done between reality, memory and dream, and the ending is very sweet. I have no complaints. :-)

[bigskydreaming]

So obviously, like, I make a big deal out of Dick Grayson’s intentions when naming himself Robin in the first place, and how it was meant as an homage and tribute to his parents and the generations of Flying Graysons before them, and that’s a huge part of the reason he was so pissed when Bruce gave it away without consulting him and why its kinda messed up that everyone characterizes Tim as massively resenting Dick for making Damian Robin, etc, etc....

But okay, like....Dick Grayson was most other child heroes/sidekicks’ inspiration, not to mention Jason and Tim’s (though Tim of course was just as influenced by Jason’s turn as Robin, if not more).

And then, my problem is...whenever talk of inspirations and legacies and mantles and all that comes up, the question becomes - who inspired Dick in the first place?

Because, I mean....the answer isn’t Batman.

THAT’S why the origins of the Robin persona are so important, because like, Dick wasn’t inspired to become a hero, the KIND of hero he was, because of Bruce. He just wasn’t. He loves, respects and admires Bruce of course, sure, that’s a given. But one of the primary characterizations of Dick across ANY canon or medium is that he’s NEVER wanted to be Batman. He HATES it when he has to wear Bruce’s mantle. Not because he doesn’t respect it or what it stands for, but because its not him, and it never was.

THAT’S why he was never Batboy, never modeled himself as a younger version of his mentor like Kid Flash, Aqualad, Wonder Girl, Speedy, etc all did. Because he wanted to work with Bruce, sure, he wanted to be a hero like Bruce, as in a person who does heroic stuff and helps and protects people.....but not in the ways Bruce did it, and not for the reasons or with the intentions that Bruce had for his own costumed persona. Robin was specifically created to be everything Batman wasn’t, because Dick, being one of the many survivors of tragedies in Gotham who fell through the cracks and would have been left behind and swallowed up by the system if not for a hero’s intervention.....Dick was aware of how catching the bad guys and putting them away, seeing justice served, like, it was important, but it wasn’t THE most important thing. Not to everyone. 

Catching the bad guys only fixes a tiny part of what happened. It was Bruce’s solution to things - from the second the Graysons died, that was his answer, that was what he was sure was going to help Dick move on......but Bruce’s answer wasn’t Dick’s answer. Catching or killing Tony Zucco wasn’t ever going to help Dick heal or move on, because the murder of his parents was only PART of his personal tragedy. The other part was how it resulted in him being ripped away from everything he knew and everyone else he loved, never allowed to go back to the life he’d always intended to live, growing up performing and entertaining alongside his family, like all their family before them....instead forced to change basically everything about himself in order to fit into a structured life of routines he found boring and pointless and not remotely what he wanted out of life.

Robin was Dick’s answer to all that. Being Robin was the only thing that allowed Dick to heal, because it was the one and only way in which he got to take back a piece of control over his own life. If he couldn’t go back to his past, to the circus, to his family, then he’d bring all that into the present with him, carry it forward. Continue his family’s traditions in the only way he could think of now, fighting crime alongside Batman in the signature colors of the Flying Graysons, remaining true to that title by swinging from grappling lines rather than a trapeze....but still committed to the same work his family had made their livelihood for generations, the same work he’d always intended to continue in some form himself: making peoples’ lives better, just by his presence. 

Entertaining, performing, not out of insecurity or to cover things up, but because that was what he’s always seen himself as born to do. To leave people a little happier than they were when they first encountered them. Cheering up the victims of crimes with his jokes and laughter and brightness while Batman dourly scouted for clues and conferred with the police. Giving them a reason to smile even on what might have been the worst day of their lives, otherwise. Making jokes and puns while fighting the bad guys, his own way of pushing back against the darkness of Gotham - by laughing at villains of the day, by refusing to let someone like the Joker be the only one who had any reason to laugh in Gotham.

And not one bit of that came from Batman. Bruce didn’t inspire Robin, didn’t inspire Dick - Batman only gave Dick an example of how his past, his skills, his purpose in life could be adapted to allow him to continue on in the spirit of his family, to ensure they lived on through him, not just in body but in spirit as well. Zucco, the system, they could take the boy out of the circus, but he refused to let them take the circus out of him before he was damn good and ready. They could physically keep him away from a trapeze and out of the center ring of a circus, but no one was going to tell Dick Grayson when he was or wasn’t allowed to be a Flying Grayson, with everything that entailed.

Except....that’s exactly what Bruce ended up doing.

And that’s why I will always call that a greater betrayal than anything that happened with any of the Robins since, despite any of their (usually still quite valid) issues with how the mantle ended up passed on from them. Because Dick was no different from any other sidekick or child hero in that he built his identity as a hero around the heroes who inspired him to follow in their footsteps....its just that for him, those heroes were his parents. They were the ones Robin was trying to imitate, live up to, make proud. That’s why Dick always insisted on being called Bruce’s partner and not his sidekick. Sure, he absolutely loved being Bruce’s partner, but that doesn’t mean that ultimately that wasn’t just a means to an end for him....a way to ensure he was allowed to keep going out at night doing what he damn well intended to do anyway. He wanted to work WITH Bruce but he never wanted to BE Bruce. Because he already had a concrete vision of who he wanted to be like, who he wanted to be.

(And of course, this is also why I always get so annoyed with the take that Bruce didn’t bring up adopting Dick earlier in life because he didn’t want to replace his parents, he was trying to respect Dick’s feelings towards them, etc.....because uh.....that doesn’t really track, considering that co-opting the Robin identity and annexing it as part of the Batman identity, BRUCE’S to take and then dole out as he wished.....like, hello, dumbass, what did you think telling a kid that you were forbidding him from using HIS mother’s nickname, HIS family’s colors, etc, like....what the hell do you even call that other than replacing Dick’s parents and disrespecting Dick’s connection to them - you pretty much literally told him there that screw who inspired it and what his reasons for being Robin were, Robin still only existed according to Bruce’s say-so).

Anyway. And yeah, that’s also why I’m eternally grumpy at the usual fandom take that Tim does and should resent Dick for ‘taking Robin away’ and giving it to Damian, because....a) that’s not really what happened, Dick literally said that he couldn’t treat Tim like a sidekick because he saw them as equals, that it was time for Tim to figure out his own identity and see who he was outside of Robin, who he’d become thanks to his time in that role.

And also b) because.....like, it was Dick’s right, like it or not. That situation WASN’T comparable with Bruce taking it from Dick in the first place, or giving it to Jason, because the problem there wasn’t that it happened at all, it was that Robin wasn’t Bruce’s to take, or restrict, or regulate, let alone give away. Fire Dick from being his partner, yeah, sure, whatever. But telling him to hang up the last vestige of his family and former life that Dick had managed to hold onto all this time despite every attempt to take it away from him? And that’s the difference with what happened with Tim, because Dick was clear - this had nothing to do with his respect for Tim’s abilities or not thinking he was good enough to fight at his side, it was about thinking Tim was TOO good to be stuck JUST fighting at Dick’s side. 

And while Tim is completely justified in feeling any way he wants about not being Robin anymore, it was after all a huge part of his own identity.....like.....you don’t get to resent the guy who created it to preserve his own heritage and family identity, for having the nerve to think like....it should be up to him who wears it and when and why. If that doesn’t work for someone, if Jason or Tim had a problem with the idea that Dick specifically should always have more of a say in where the Robin mantle goes, like....that’s valid! BUT in the sense of like....they could’ve insisted on making their own identity/mantle in order to be Bruce’s partner/sidekick, if they didn’t want the originator of THAT particular mantle to have more of a right to it and its succession, ultimately.

Especially because the whole reason Dick made Damian Robin was he recognized that Damian needed it, in the same way he had needed it. Jason becoming Robin had nothing to do with Dick, and Tim approached Dick with his own perception of Robin and what it meant already firmly cemented in his mind - Robin was the light to Batman’s darkness, a necessary flip side of the coin that balanced Bruce out and kept him focused. Again, its totally valid for Tim to view Robin as whatever he viewed it as, for it to mean whatever it meant to him.....the problem is in acting like Dick’s perception of it should ever reflect that, or be altered to include that, or become less important than Tim or other Robins’ take on it as time went on. Not when Dick made it as a time capsule for his family and history, to make sure that WASN’T forgotten just because there were no more Flying Graysons on the trapeze anymore. 

So when you factor in that for Dick, Robin always meant family and always will mean family, his offering it to Damian was him doing the only thing he knew of that would give Damian a reason to stay, now that Bruce was dead. Robin was the only thing in the world that Dick had, that didn’t come from Bruce. As Bruce’s son, Damian was already entitled to anything that they inherited from Bruce, the same as his brothers....anything Dick gave Damian that came from Bruce originally, Damian honestly would’ve been justified in saying he had just as much right to it as Dick already. It wouldn’t have meant anything. Robin meant something though, because it was Dick making clear to Damian that he wanted him to stay, not just because Dick felt obligated to Bruce, to take care of Damian....but instead, Dick was saying he didn’t view it as obligation, he was offering Damian the one part of HIS family, Dick’s family, that Damian WASN’T already entitled to, by being part of Bruce’s.

Because Robin is a family tradition, always was. Its just not a WAYNE family tradition. Its just the latest version of the Flying Graysons, and thus all of Dick’s brothers became honorary Flying Graysons in his eyes the second he affirmed that they were Robin now, that he was okay with it, that he wanted them to be.

And you just....can’t cut out that one connection you have to the family with generations of history behind the mantle, that inspired it, that is the entire reason it exists for you to take up in the first place. Like, if you want to be part of a legacy, specifically, as in, you want to take up where a predecessor left off, you want to continue something that someone else started INSTEAD of starting something of your own, even something in a similar spirit and clearly inspired by it....well, you don’t get to pick and choose which parts of the legacy are worth acknowledging. Especially not when the person who created the mantle in the first place, specifically to carry on with his family’s legacy, is still around to have his own opinion on who currently needs it most.

Like don’t get me wrong. I love every single one of the Robins, including Stephanie, but in a comic book universe where the entire concept of legacies is given so much focus and priority, Robin ends up being a very weird outlier in that its originator and inspiration is only given as much weight as fans of his successors feel like giving at any given moment. Nobody ever writes fic or headcanons around the idea that upon Bruce coming back from the dead, he’d have just....no opinion on who should be Batman, let alone any right to have an opinion on that. Y’know? And again, its made all the more frustrating given that Robin’s the one mantle in the DC ‘verse that was created by its original holder as an homage/tribute to his family’s memory, rather than emblematic of some abstract idea or ideal.

*Shrugs* So yeah, I find myself very much in disagreement with most everyone in fandom on this one particular subject lol. Because I love Tim too! I do! And I’m definitely not saying that the other Robins weren’t just as iconic as Dick, just as deserving as the title or whatever, like I definitely don’t mean that any of them weren’t AS much Robin as Dick was.

Just that from an IN universe perspective, viewed from the POV of the characters, I think it just ends up being very skewed for any of the later Robins to act like they’re entitled to MORE say over Robin than Dick himself, when he’s the only connection any of them have or ever WILL have, to the ultimate origin and inspiration for it and everything its come to mean.....and that’s just....not Batman.

Its the Flying Graysons.

[loplainlointhemorning]

people frequently get asked about who’s influenced them as musicians, but are there artists out there that you’ve heard and your response is like “I never ever want to sound anything like this”

There are plenty because, though I’m pretty easy to please musically, I’m not very good as a genre person and I tend to cherrypick the best artists and then throw away the rest as imitators. For example, there’s plenty of punk bands that I think are just regurgitations of better/more interesting bands, and I’m always afraid that I’ll sound like them instead of clearly being influenced by bands that I like. For example, I would never attempt to write anything that sounded like The Sex Pistols, The Dead Boys, Flipper, The Dead Kennedys(whose politics I respect but whose music isn’t anything I haven’t heard before), etc., I don’t want to write anything that sounds like three washed out chords and a slimy masculine voice complaining wanting to kill himself or hating the government- I like both of those topics as songwriting topics(huge fan of The Stooges and Nirvana obviously) but there’s a particular ineffectiveness in the way those bands deliver them that just leaves me cold, and especially in the case of the Pistols, just kind of embarrasses me. You have to have some level of charm or originality when you say the same thing over again and the problem with a genre like punk is that you can easily bend its DIY no talent necessary charm into something that excuses laziness instead of encouraging ingenuity, therefore I only actually like a handful of bands that fall under the punk umbrella as opposed to every obscure Real Punk Band™️ that ever existed. I wouldn’t have done well on the Olympia scene lmao.

Also, there are plenty of artists I look up to who do shit musically that I would never want to repeat even if I like their work. I like Nick Cave a lot but let’s be honest, his ego is 90% of his music and he’s more of a writer than he is a songwriter. I understand he’s following in the footsteps of artists like Cohen and Dylan, and I think arguably even Tom Waits, but all three of those artists could respect when they were doing page-writing and when they were writing a song. Nick doesn’t seem to have that filter....And I’m not even opposed to doing spoken word songwriting myself, but once again, I’d want to do it more in the style of Harry Partch because that’s more interesting to me than like....Moody piano. He can make his own particular style work for him obvi but when that happens it’s because his emotion overrides his naturally deadpan tone, so something like Skeleton Tree is an honest to God masterpiece that I couldn’t touch in my lifetime, while The Boatman’s Call is painful to listen to unless it’s the right day. Regarding my own music I’m working the best I can to have an actual Singing Voice, because I think it’s easier to convey emotion if you’ve got more than three notes, and when I sing something and it sounds like Nick Cave I basically never want to sing again.

Iggy also does plenty of stuff I wouldn’t want to repeat- I think he’s a very passionate, excitable person without a whole lot of musical talent, so he does his best work when he has a musical force behind him that can actually give him a platform for his natural abilities(i.e., spontaneous lyric writing). However, when he doesn’t have a musical force to bounce himself off of he seems to be sort of stuck when it comes to what he’s able to accomplish. Despite him denying it I think he’s Very aware of his own image/what’s expected of him, and I think it’s a little bit hard for him to divorce himself from that, so in terms of ‘trying new things’ it takes him three albums to break into something interesting instead of someone like Bowie, where it was two at most ever in his career. Not a single good, well respected artist from the 70’s was able to handle the 80’s(because of how nasty and wealth-oriented they were, look at what mainstream rock music turned into) and Iggy gave it his best shot and got some decent work out of it- However there was a lot of backwash from that period that I wouldn’t ever want to sound like. This remains true throughout the 90’s as well, though once again there ARE some good songs, they come from him being able to break away from who Iggy Pop is supposed to be into what he wants as an artist. I that if I manage to have a career in music I would want to A) never have a solid image or expectation from a crowd and B) I would want to have a good enough grasp on music to be able to support myself without needing somebody behind me.

Beyond all of that analytical shit, there’s also bands that I just fucking hate, which I’m sure are more along the lines of the answer you expected instead of 3 paragraphs that took me an hour altogether.

THE MOST IRREDEEMABLE BANDS IN MUSIC HISTORY

- The New York Dolls. You know who likes the New York Dolls? People who like every single Cool Obscure Punk Band, and all of the hair metal icons who also don’t have anything original to say, any musical talent, or any creative power whatsoever. The New York Dolls paved the way for straight men in the 80’s to dress up in terrible drag and continue the grand rock n roll tradition of fucking pubescent girls. They are not glam rock and they barely qualify as punk. They’re proto glitter metal. The New York Dolls are not fun because they’re trashy, they’re just kind of sickening to be around.

- Dave Matthews Band

It’s a running joke in my household that I, and my drum prodigy brother(therefore placing him on a high enough pedestal to have musical opinions), hate this fucking band so much it’s unreal.

- The Rolling Stones

I don’t actually hate the Stones I just hate that I’m supposed to like them for doing essentially Rock, the cornflakes kind. They’re a late 60’s rock band. That’s all they are. They wrote You Can’t Always Get What You Want and it began my history with depression. Thanks Mick Jagger.

- The Melvins

Obviously bitter because they’re less popular than Nirvana despite pioneering the grunge genre, I’d be way more willing to hold them up as underappreciated geniuses if A) I found their music anymore interesting than any other early/proto grunge(I don’t because I’m not a cisgendered hegerosexual man), and B) Buzz Osbourne wasn’t so insufferable. I really can’t even judge them musicially because I just don’t like Buzz that much.

- The Smashing Pumpkins

The Smashing Pumpkins can actually write tunes and I’m actually very curious/eager myself to test out their version of dream pop(Less Mazzy Star, more My Bloody Valentine), but oh my God Billy Corgan’s singing voice. I mean, Billy Corgan himself, but holy shit. I know I ragged on Iggy and Nick but they’re tolerable as artists because they’ll openly admit to not being particularly good vocally(which I think Iggy is honestly too hard on himself for but that’s a different paragraph altogether). Billy Corgan can’t admit that he’s just not that talented, and I know Courtney praised him for writing hooks when everybody else was writing noise because the rich college kids didn’t have to worry about making money, and that’s fine, but once he started Making money he could’ve afforded to experiment more(and I’ve only heard the band’s first two albums but like. Oh Mellon Collie and the infinite hit factory) but I don’t think there was ever somebody willing to divorce themselves from the norm inside Billy Corgan. And obviously I hate him for being a fuckhead. So there’s that.

- The White Stripes

Meg White is cute and cool and has anxiety issues like mine but good lord I don’t like Jack White, and worse than him I don’t like their music. I don’t like the incredibly derivative ‘pop blues’ riffs, I don’t like their senseless half-worded lyrics, I don’t like their ‘we listened to the Stooges so we can play three notes forever and that’s valid creatively’ attitude. To be fair, I think that’s all more Jack than Meg, but however the chips fall I experience their music with slightly more interest than I experience a commercial.

Thank you for this ask!

[mysterylover123]

BNHA Rewatch: Episode 62 “A Season for Encounters”

mysterylover123

aka The One with the Tintin Wall 

Uuh….did I accidentally change the channel? When did this turn into My Noir Academia?

Ooh man, this is some interesting setup for stuff later on in the manga. Season 4, man. Can’t wait.

OK let me freeze frame those searches. “Endeavor’s kids” is pretty high. I guess everyone needs those TodoroKid pics.

“20-40 male demographic” haha ooh boy that’s some real Truth in Television. I guess All Might had more fans in the 14-80 female demographic. Though Endeav would probably have fangirls if he didn’t wear that stupid fire mustache all the time. I’m just saying. Todoroki’s looks didn’t come from nowhere.

This other perspective thing is interesting. That “here’s how those words strike those on the wrong side of the law” idea.

Wow that was lame. These Pro-heroes really are kinda subpar compared to the average Class 1-A student, aren’t they? We need them to hurry up. 

“Reservoir Dogs” Good God how much American pop culture is Horikoshi aware of?!?! That one’s a little more obscure than Spider-Man. 

Ooh, Giran and Twice! The most recent arc of the manga turned them into a ship, and a totally plausible one, so nice to see.

Todorokis, man. Don’t do anything halfway (Still not confirmed, dammit.) 

Twice’s backstory. is pretty interesting, in how it plays on that whole theme of Imitation. 

Trying to be exactly like someone else is always a doomed enterprise, because you can never truly be the original, and a copy is always less durable. Hence the dangers of excessive imitation as such an over-arcing theme.  

OVERHAUL. THE OST. Season 4 is gonna be intense, ya’ll. 

“Knowing who you are is important. Amen to that Hori. 

Ooh Deku is looking good as usual. And look, he didn’t break his arms this time! Fighting Kacchan is so good for him. 

Class 1-A again! You know, we’ve kinda developed this habit in the manga of cutting away from them for a really long them, and then seeing them again for like, 2 chapters of cameos. I’m starting to really miss them, every time they do this.

Haha Monoma lol. Just wait for the Joint Training Arc, Class 1-B. You won’t be laughing so hard at Kacchan then. 

Shinso! Yay! Also Sero says basically “wow, have you been working out?” which makes me think he’s as attracted to Shisno as I am. 

No place to sit? Throughout the whole opening ceremony? Wow, that sucks.  

I feel for them. Presentations where people don’t get to the point really annoy me. 

Good thing Deku and Kacchan skipped this presentation, actually. Neither one of them needs yet another guilt trip about taking All Might down (or so they think). 

It turns out it’s just a means to segue into introducing Mirio to the audience. (My first thoughts on this scene: Oh boy someone else to make my Best Boy feel inadequate. Well, I guess we just defanged Kacchan, so someone has to take over.) 

Oh, speaking of the lovers’ spat… 

Hey Momo, way to be considerate of Deku and Kacchan’s feelings.  

Nejire ships Mirideku. 

Ashido! Always great to see her. (Next season, ya’ll. She’ll get her due) 

All Todoroki is doing is watching Momo while she talks and I still think this is a Todomomo scene. 

“WHY DID I WORK SO HARD AT THE SPORTS FEST THEN?” Cause it was awesome, Uraraka! Why else? 

I kinda think they should’ve just let the agencies come to them anyway. I mean, the agency offers meant there was tons of competition anyway, so why not cut out the middleman?  

I feel ya Deku. Always feel this way whenever I miss a class.

Aizawa could not have devised a more perfect punishment for these two overly diligent students. They will never break curfew again. 

Mirio is such an eccentric oddball in this scene. He isn’t really like that anywhere else as far as I can tell, so I guess this was just to give him a memorable introduction. 

Wow he’s really incorporating that angry Kacchan energy into himself isn’t he? 

GODDAMIT MIRIO WHYD’YA GOTTA GO STEALING MY OTP’S OST FOR YOUR INTRO? Seriously, I’m a little confused. Why does the Big 3 get the “Katsuki and Izuku” OST for their intro? 

Buff Tintin, Nice Sasuke and Blue Elf will now apparently show our kids how it’s done.

Episode 62 is an interesting choice, since it takes a scene from an earlier Manga chapter and puts it together with later ones (the Twice stuff popped up right in the middle of what, in the anime, is episode 60. But they wanted to get to DVK2 ASAP). As a result, it’s a little oddly paced, but still decent. In some ways, I think DV2K should’ve been the season 3 finale, with the events of the Big 3 being the wrap-up (just like in Season 2), but i’m fine with how it is.

BKDK CORNER:

They’re so domestic here it’s not even funny. Straight out of a fanfic I swear to god. 

Look at that lingering look. Take a good look, Kacchan. You’ll be missing him for about 40 chapters after this.

(I probably won’t be able to do the corner for the Internship arc in Season 4, sadly, unless they throw in some filler. I’ll have to wait for S5 for more animated BKDK antics, besides that one moment in between arcs in Chapter 168.)

Best Girl of the Episode: Pony Tsunotori!

RANKER: The Big 3 Ranked

3. Nejire Hado - I love her personality, but we don’t get to see a lot of her quirk in action, sadly.

2. Mirio Togata - He’s lovable for sure, but he’s held back from my goodwill for being Deku’s supposedly better replacement.

1. Tamaki Amajiki - Adorably sweet and no downside to looking him + good quirk + what Sasuke probably should’ve been? YES.

[lovemesomerafael]

Best That You Can Do                         Chapter 1:  The Big Mistake

Mike Dodds x Original Female Character Because dammit Mike’s not dead.  

Look, Mike loves his dad, OK?  He does. They get along great, even when Mike’s dad is being extra.  Mike knows he’s lucky to be Chief Dodds’s son, and he is perfectly aware that he’s benefitted from that.  He doubts he’d be a Sergeant this young if it wasn’t for that connection.  Hell, he’s not above using that connection himself when it suits him.  So he good-naturedly puts up with his dad’s embarrassing bragging about him, and he gives his dad’s opinions serious consideration.  Because Mike knows his dad absolutely and completely has his back, and only wants good things for him.  It’s just… what Dad thinks is good and what Mike thinks is good aren’t always the same thing.  

William knows that. It’s why he’s always tried to listen when Mike says no.  But this time, he knows he’s right.  Kaitlyn is perfect for Mike.  Women are one area in which Mike’s never listened to him – first he was too embarrassed and awkward around girls to do anything when William would point out a girl who had a crush on him, then when he was older, he had his own (incomprehensible) ideas about what he wanted.  But this time, William’s not taking no for an answer.  He can’t.  Because he knows he’s right.  

Kaitlyn Myers is a member of Chief Dodds’ staff, an up-and-comer if he ever saw one.  She’s the daughter of two cops, sister of three, and granddaughter of two – one on each side.  Kaitlyn has the NYPD in her blood, and she’s fiercely protective of anyone who wears a badge.  So much so, in fact, that she and Dodds have gone toe-to-toe more than once when she thought he was doing something that put cops at unwarranted risk.  But only behind closed doors.  Anywhere else, she is unwavering in her support and, whatever he decides, she stops at nothing to make it happen.  Her loyalty is unshakable.  

All of which makes her indispensable to William Dodds, and it’s been like that for three years now.   She’s also a looker – William thinks it’s still OK to call women that – with the lean, athletic build he knows Mike likes.  

Mike’s been hearing about Kaitlyn for a long time, but they’d never met until a couple of weeks ago. And when they did, William saw instantly what he really should’ve seen before: they were perfect for each other. So he’s going to do what he should’ve done a long time ago.  He’s going to set them up.

 ***************

Two Weeks Earlier:

Mike’s tired and he’s cranky.  He’s really looking forward to getting to Alonso’s, the steak house he and his dad have been going to every other Thursday for years.  It’s dimly lit and full of deep green upholstery and dark wood, they have every possible kind of whiskey, and the steaks are huge and perfect.  It’s basically a man’s paradise, Mike thinks, and he loves these dinners.  He really needs this.  It’s been a shit week.

He swings in the door and greets Eleanor, Chief Dodds’ secretary, who beams at him as if he’s her own son.  He points toward the office door in mute question.

“He’s in a meeting, but he said to go on in,” she says.  Eleanor is about a million years old, but Mike loves her because a.) she takes great care of his dad, and b.) when it comes to a choice – and it has – she’s on Mike’s side one hundred percent of the time.  He thinks she might have a crush on him, and he knows he has one on her.

Mike opens the door, knocking as he does, and is confronted by the best ass he’s seen in a year.  At least.  There’s a brunette in a pencil skirt standing on Mike’s side of his dad’s desk, leaning over to show the Chief something and giving Mike a spectacular view. She stands as he enters, and he sees that she’s pretty, with big, brown eyes and lush, pink lips that immediately spark his imagination.  

“Mike!  Come in, Son,” William says gaily, standing up with a smile like he’s pleasantly surprised.  Which is weird, considering they planned to meet here, now, and Eleanor said he was waiting for him.  

“You’ve met Kaitlyn, haven’t you?”  William asks.

Mike reflexively holds out a hand.  When she smiles at him, he can feel it.  Her hair is in some kind of updo, but it’s late in the day and some of it is escaping in a way that feeds the dirty turn his imagination’s already taken.  This is the Kaitlyn his dad’s been going on and on about?  Somehow he’d imagined her… differently.  

“No, we haven’t met,” Kaitlyn says, smiling and looking into his eyes, her voice lower and sexier than he’d expected.  “But I feel like we have.  He talks nonstop about you.”

Mike notices how small her hand feels in his as they shake.  “Then we’re even,” he says, smiling in a way he hopes isn’t as much of a leer as he fears it is.  “When he’s with me, he talks nonstop about you.”

He doesn’t want to let go of her hand, and damn if it doesn’t seem like maybe she holds on a shade longer than necessary, too.

“Listen, Son, I have to call the Mayor.  Can you give me ten minutes?  Kait, you can keep him company, can’t you?  Give him a drink of that Dalmore we’re not supposed to have in the office.”  

His dad actually winks when he says that.  Dork. But Mike only has a second to notice that, because his dad tosses Kaitlyn a small key from his desk drawer and then she’s motioning him out the door.  Mike follows her ass across the lobby to a small conference room, completely oblivious to Eleanor’s smirk at how obvious he is about it.  

In the conference room, Kaitlyn uses the little key to open a highly polished walnut cabinet and takes out a half-empty bottle of scotch, setting it on the oval table that takes up most of the room.  Picking up two glasses from a shelf in the cabinet, she sets them next to the bottle. “Why don’t you pour?”

“Sure,” Mike shrugs, hoping he looks nonchalant.  “None for Dad?”

“Dad doesn’t need one. Dad’s talking to the Mayor.  That’s his drug of choice.”  

Mike feels a very pleasant flutter down low in his stomach at the mischievous look on her face, and the way she smiles at him.  He means to pour only a finger for each of them, but he’s suddenly a little clumsy. He hands her one of the glasses and he’s almost certain she purposely touches his fingers more than necessary as he does.

“L’chaim,” he says, lifting his glass up briefly.

“L’chaim,” Kaitlyn responds, mirroring his action.  

Mike knows how much Dalmore costs, which is why he’s never had it before.  It’s fucking fantastic.  

“Holy shit,” he breathes, before he has a chance to think better of it.

“I know, right?” Kaitlyn’s eyes sparkle.  “This is only the second time I’ve had this.  I’m actually surprised he’s letting us be alone with the bottle.”

She moves to sit in one of the chairs, and he takes the one next to her.  He can feel the scotch warming his insides as he takes another sip.  He’s probably imagining it, but already he thinks he can feel the cares of the week receding.  He’s not imagining that his leg is touching Kaitlyn’s, and neither of them are moving away.  

“So you’re Mike.  You look like him.  I’m sitting here putting a face to all the exploits he’s told me about. You were Special Forces, right?”

“A million years ago,” he says.  “And you’re a lawyer.”

“Don’t hold it against me. I’m nice.  I promise.”

Well, shit.  Now he’s starting to get hard.  Just like that.  “I believe you,” he says, surprised at the gravelly sound of his own voice.  

She smiles and they take another sip.  She is absolutely flirting.  She hasn’t looked away from his eyes since they sat down.

“He didn’t tell me you were beautiful.”  Mike’s shocked that he said that out loud, but not even a little bit sorry, because her reaction is absolutely worth it.  

“He did tell me you were,” she says, and she’s basically purring.  “But I already knew that.  He has pictures of you in his office.”

Mike gives a little embarrassed huff at that, but he leans toward her and puts an elbow on the table.

“What’s he like to work for?”

“He’s… ambitious. Hardworking.  Wants to do the right thing, but also wants to be seen to do the right thing, which isn’t always easy.”  She shrugs.  “Mostly he gets it right.”

“You like him.”

“I do.  I don’t always agree with him, but I believe in him.  He’s taught me a lot.”

Another short silence as they sip.  Damn, this is good stuff, Mike thinks.

“What’s it like to be his son?”

Mike laughs a little at that, sitting back and stretching out his legs, which happens to have the effect of putting more of him in contact with more of her.  “Depends on the day.”  He shrugs in obvious imitation of her.  “Mostly he gets it right.”

They share a warm, delighted smile at that, and Kaitlyn’s frankly approving look causes Mike’s brain to short-circuit a little.  Just enough that he says, “I see why he likes you.”

She just smiles softly at him.  Damn, he thinks.  His cock is fully awake now, and he’s going to have to watch it or it’s going to be noticeable when he has to walk out of here.  

They finish their drinks just as they hear the Chief call Mike’s name from his office.  

“Time to go,” Mike says regretfully, and stands.  “Thanks for the drink.”  He hesitates just a second.  “I’d like to do it again, when we have more time.  Maybe without Dad.”  He barely restrains his urge to wink.

“I’d like that,” Kaitlyn answers, a frank promise in her eyes.  Suddenly, she reaches to the center of the table and picks up a small pad of sticky notes and a pen.  She quickly scribbles on the pad, tears off the top note, and holds it out.  He can see she’s written her phone number on it.

“Text me your number. I’ll text you my address.  Come by after your dinner.”  She leans in as she hands it to him.  “Maybe without Dad.”  She does wink.  

Holy fuck.  Mike knows that if she looks, she’s going to be able to see the effect that has on him.

 He texts Kaitlyn in the cab on the way to the restaurant and, true to her word, she texts her address. “See you soon,” she says, and Mike reacts as though she’d written something explicit.  Mike enjoys his dinner with his dad as much as he’d expected, but he’s a little preoccupied.  When his dad says he has to get home, Mike feels a little guilty for being relieved.

Kaitlyn’s apartment is in an old building which was once a tenement, before the neighborhood was gentrified.  He likes it. It’s clear the apartments are tiny, but it’s a solid building, and they’ve done a nice job keeping the old-fashioned features while getting rid of the squalor.  When he knocks on her door, he wonders what she’ll be wearing.  His imagination, which is getting quite a workout tonight, conjures up all kinds of possibilities.  

She looks spectacular. Mike thinks his mouth might even be hanging open a little.  She’s wearing some kind of silky, pink lounging pants and a simple, white cotton top.  She’s barefoot, which shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. Her hair’s no longer in its prim work style; now it’s down, and it’s softly curly and even darker than it had looked earlier.  She smiles happily – and a little playfully, he thinks – and steps back to let him in. Her apartment’s a railroad flat with the living room just inside the door, but she stays in the hall and asks if she can take his coat.  All he’s wearing is his suit coat – it’s September, after all – but he likes the idea of taking it off, so he does.  She hangs it on one of several hooks on the wall behind the door, and that’s the end of the pleasantries.

He reaches for her at the same time she reaches for him.  She giggles just a little as she puts her arms around his neck, melting into him as he wraps one arm around her waist and one across her back with his hand at her neck.  She also kisses him back as enthusiastically as he’s kissing her.  It’s insanely hot to be in her apartment with her in his arms when they’ve said only a handful of sentences to one another.  For some reason, though, he’s also smiling as he kisses her.  He doesn’t know what that’s about, but she’s loosening his tie so he forgets to think about it.  

When she starts on the buttons of his shirt, he stops trying to hold his lower body away from her so she won’t feel how hard he is already.  Hell, he was half hard when he knocked on her door.  But now that he knows they’re on the same page, he uses the arm that’s around her waist to pull her hips to his.  She doesn’t bother unbuttoning his shirt all the way down, only far enough so that she can pull it off over his head.  When she does, he reaches down and gets a hold of her so he can lift her up. She immediately wraps her legs around him and mumbles, “Second door,” around his tongue.  

When he’s laid her on the bed and kicked off his shoes, he lays down and shifts around until he’s next to her with one arm under her neck and the other across her waist.  “You know what I do for a living.”

She looks slightly confused, with an adorable little wrinkle between her eyebrows.  “Yeah…?”

“Got kind of a thing about consent these days.  Hazard of the job.”  He kisses her and she puts her arms around him, but he holds back to whisper, “I need to be sure this is what you want.”

She actually throws her head back and laughs.  “Holy shit, Mike, I don’t know how to consent any harder.”

Now he laughs, too.  “I thought so, but…”

“I’m sorry,” Kaitlyn says, making an obvious effort to be more serious.  She looks into his eyes.  In the gloom of her bedroom, lit only by whatever lights are on in the living room, her eyes look huge.  How could he have thought she was just pretty earlier?  She’s fucking gorgeous.  “You’re right. I appreciate you looking out for me. And I want to look out for you, too.” She runs her fingers through his hair once, then leaves them there.  “I want you. I want this.”

“I do, too.”

“I want to take off the rest of your clothes.  And I want you to take mine off, too.”

He realizes she’s teasing him a little, but her expression and the way she’s breathing tell him there’s more than that going on.  “And then I want to touch you all over, and I want to kiss you everywhere.  After that, I want you to fuck me.  Slow, and for a long time.  How’s that for consent?”

Mike clears his throat, not entirely confident he’s capable of speech any longer.  “That’s some pretty fucking good consenting right there.”

“Thanks.”  She starts to work on his belt.  

“There’s some consenting I’d like to do, too.”

“Tell me.”  She stops with his belt half-unbuckled.  He has her full attention.

“After I get you naked, I want to run my hands all over your body, and then I want to taste you.  I want to lick you open, and fuck you with my tongue.  I want to listen to the sounds you’ll make, and then I want to watch you come.”

“Oh, shit.  I consent,” Kaitlyn gasps.  “Where do I sign?”

“We’ll take care of the paperwork later,” Mike chuckles, and takes control of Kaitlyn’s mouth.

She tastes like fresh toothpaste, like she’s just brushed her teeth, and he thinks she might have done it when he texted that he was five minutes away.  Something about the idea of her brushing her teeth in preparation for kissing him is sexy as all hell.  He wonders if she worried about her outfit like women tend to do. If she did, she got it absolutely right.  Mostly because it’s really easy to take off.  And although she is technically wearing a bra, it’s a lacy slip of nothing and he can see her nipples through it.  The thought of her choosing to wear that for him makes him have to stop rubbing against her for a minute so he doesn’t come within the first ten minutes of being in her apartment.  

She’s trying to get his pants off, but he’s chuckling as he blocks her, trying to get her clothes off first.  She’s laughing and being a very good sport about it, which he likes.  A lot.  And once he gets her naked, and sees her body in the half-light, he pulls her close and kisses her deeply for a long time, because holy flyin’ balls of shit. He’s gonna need to keep his pants on for a bit longer because, once again, he’s in danger of coming too soon.

Not to be denied, she slips her hand inside his open fly – she’s gotten that far – and starts to stroke him.  Her slight gasp when she feels his cock is really flattering.  He grits his teeth to try to maintain some control as he enjoys the living hell out of what she’s doing with her hand.  She’s multitasking, too, because although he’s completely unable to keep focusing on kissing, there’s something magical about the crazy-slow way she’s moving her lips against his, and that thing she’s doing with her tongue…

“Kaitlyn…”

“Everything OK?”  She stops everything she’s doing, but doesn’t move away.  

“Yeah,” he pants.  “I just…  you’re…”  He scrunches up his face and gives a couple laughs.  “I need a minute to, um, gather my thoughts.”

She smiles sweetly and takes her hand away, but stays right where she is, with her lips so close to his he can feel her breath and smell her toothpaste.  “Thanks?”

“Yeah.  Definitely a compliment.”

Kaitlyn lifts up on her elbow and rests her head on her hand, pushing slightly at Mike so he gets the idea she wants him to roll onto his back.  He does, and she starts to stroke his arms and chest, her face clearly showing that she’s impressed.  

“Mike…”  She breathes.  “You are… I mean, are you real?  Are you kidding me with this body of yours?”

He wears a pleased grin over the next several minutes as she uses her hands and her mouth to appreciate his chest, shoulders, arms, and then rolls onto him and begins with breathy kisses on his neck.  He groans and uses his hands on her hips to move her against him.  

“You ready for me to take these pants off you?”

“Hell, yes…”

She wastes no time getting him the rest of the way naked, then crawls sinuously up his body, pushing his legs apart as she moves between them.  

“Oh, no,” Mike says, sitting up enough to put his huge hands on her upper arms and slide her up his body. “I didn’t consent to that.”

“What?”  Kaitlyn’s obviously stunned.

Although she’s several inches shorter than Mike and he’s twice her size, Kaitlyn’s not small. Still, he has no trouble flipping them over until he’s suddenly on top of her, kissing her with a carnal laugh. “I’m the one who said I wanted to taste you.”

Kaitlyn, relieved, relaxes again and kisses him back.  “Shit…” she gasps as he uses his legs to move hers apart.  

She’s not touching his dick anymore, which helps, but she is making noises so erotic he thinks he still might come too soon.  And when he kisses his way down to her breasts and starts nuzzling a nipple, she puts her arms over her head, abandoning herself to him, which is so damn hot he’s pretty sure he’s whimpering.  He can’t be sure, though, because he’s way too focused on her.  

He loses track of time while he’s stroking and licking her breasts, teasing her nipples with his fingertips and his tongue until they’re as hard as his cock and she’s doing her own whimpering.  But it must have been quite a while, because he realizes she’s rocking her pelvis against him in a way that’s starting to feel demanding.  Being the gentleman he is, Mike doesn’t keep his lady waiting.  He kisses down her abdomen until he’s scooted down low enough to hook her thighs over his shoulders and nestle between them.

She’s dripping wet and moving against his mouth as soon as he begins to explore her.  “Aww, Kaitlyn, you taste so fucking good…” he murmurs between strokes with his tongue.  She’s moaning and he can hear how hard she’s breathing between short, whispered exclamations.   Which only intensifies as he begins to thrust his tongue into her, using a couple of fingers to softly, slowly spread some of her slick onto her puckered hole.  

“Mike…  Mike… now…  I wanna come-“

Remember the part about how Mike’s a gentleman?  He uses two fingers of his other hand to replace his tongue, and begins to circle the hard nub of her clit, paying attention to her to let him know how much pressure she likes.  He doesn’t need to worry about that, though, because she rubs against him, controlling the pressure herself.  He slides his fingers in and out, adding one in her other hole as he feels and hears her start to come apart.  He’d guessed that she’d be loud, and he’d been right.  Her cries, curses and filth interspersed with his name, and gasps of pleasure are even better than he’d hoped.  

When she’s been reduced to a quivering, whining mess, he feels her pull at his shoulders, and he’s more than ready to oblige.  He’s a little relieved he’s managed to hold off this long, but he knows when he gets inside her, he’s not going to last.  He quickly moves up to take her in his arms.  

“I gotta get-“  he gasps between kisses.

Kaitlyn reaches out an arm toward the bedside table at her left, but she can’t quite reach.  “Top drawer,” she whispers shakily.

Mike’s arms are much longer, and he has no trouble reaching the drawer and taking out the fresh pack of condoms.  “My kind of girl,” he chuckles deeply as he goes back to kissing her while he fumbles the box open.

“I stopped at the store on my way home,” Kaitlyn says between kisses.  

“You just assumed I was this easy?”

“I hoped,” she giggles.

He has to take a little time entering her, even as wet as she is.  

“Unh…” she grunts happily, using her heels against his back to adjust their positions so she can take all of him.  

“You OK?”

“I will be.  Oh, I will be…”

Once he’s inside her and starts moving, she decides he’s not close enough to coming on the first stroke and starts talking dirty to him, as if she knows how much he loves that.

“Oh, you should come with a fucking warning label…  Shit, Mike… Oh, my-  Fuck!  Mike, your cock is… magnificent…  Yes!  You feel so fucking good…”

And, with that, she starts to come again, and he’s gone.  He’s pretty sure they can hear him shouting three blocks away as he comes as hard as he ever has in his life.  Later, when his neurons begin firing again, he’s going to be a little embarrassed at how quickly he comes, but then, she started it.  It may not have taken any time to get there, but Mike’s orgasm feels like it lasts forever.  When it’s over, he rolls them over a little so that he’s not crushing Kaitlyn, but that’s the best he can do for a minute.  As soon as he catches his breath a little, he deals with the condom in a little trash can he noticed next to her bed, and then he’s done.  He pulls her into his arms with a luxurious sigh and goes into a hormone- and endorphin-addled trance.  

Kaitlyn’s not quite so languid, although she came twice.  She squirms around a little bit, until she’s facing him with one of his legs between hers.  He feels her stroking a hand over his shoulder and upper arm, and cracks an eye open to look at her.  She grins at him.  “Doze if you want.  I’ll just be over here fondling you, because damn.  You can’t expect me to just ignore guns like these.”

Mike chuckles quietly and murmurs, “Fondle away.”

He actually sleeps for a little bit.  When he wakes up, he’s blissfully surprised to find that Kaitlyn’s real, and she’s naked in his arms, and she’s smiling lazily at him.  He can’t help but smile back, although he can only imagine what a mess he is right now.  Kaitlyn, however, looks freshly fucked in the best possible way, her hair a little wild, her lips a little puffy from kissing, and her eyes heavy-lidded with sleepy satisfaction.

“You’re beautiful,” Mike murmurs, hearing the words before he’s had a chance to even process the thought.

“Right back atcha.”

“You want me to go?”

“I want you to stay. Will you?”

“Yeah.  I’d like that a lot.”  

 It’s the next morning that it happens.  Mike’s phone starts ringing at a ridiculous hour, especially considering that he and Kaitlyn woke each other up twice to make love again.  The phone is somewhere on the floor, in the pocket of Mike’s pants, and neither of them want to move from the warm, comfortable knot they’re in. But it keeps ringing.  As soon as it stops, it starts again.

“That trouble?” Kaitlyn asks, her voice a cute, scratchy groan.

“Could be.  I’m trying to remember how to move.”

“Sorry.  Can’t help you.”

“You’re going to need to get off of me.”

“Not gonna happen.”

Mike’s quiet laugh is regretful as he lifts Kaitlyn and sets her softly down next to him, then scoots to the edge of the bed.  He stands up, looking around for a moment before he sees his pants.  He slides the phone out of the pocket as it starts ringing again, and swears surprisingly viciously when he sees the name on the screen. He swipes down to decline the call and tosses the phone onto the deep reading chair in one corner of Kaitlyn’s bedroom.  He reaches down for his pants and sighs as he puts them on, then picks up his phone again.

“Everything OK?” Kaitlyn’s eyes are all the way open now.

“Yeah.  But I’m afraid I gotta go.”

“Who was that?”

“My-“  Mike bites back the word he was about to say.  

“Your…?”

“Nothing.”  Mike goes to the side of the bed and sits down next to Kaitlyn, putting an arm across her and grinning sheepishly down at her.  “I had a really, really good time.”

“Me, too,” Kaitlyn smiles. “And just think.  We haven’t even known each other twenty-four hours.”

“Just over twelve, actually,” Mike grins again and scratches his head.  “I’m so ashamed.”

“Me, too.  When can I see you again?”

“Another twelve hours?”

Kaitlyn’s about to enthusiastically agree, but Mike’s phone rings again.  He’s holding it in his hand, and he can tell the moment Kaitlyn sees the screen. It’s a picture of Mike and a cute woman with short, reddish-blonde hair, and they’re kissing while looking at the camera.  The name Susan is written in large letters across the top of the screen.  Mike feels Kaitlyn freeze.  He swipes his thumb down the screen, but not nearly quickly enough.  

She doesn’t say anything. Just looks at him.  But he can see the dawning hurt and anger in her eyes.

“Sorry about that.”

Kaitlyn’s voice is unemotional.  Way too unemotional.  “When I asked who it was, you said ‘my’, but you didn’t finish.  I’m guessing the next word was going to be ‘girlfriend’?”

“It’s… complicated,” he sputters, sounding lame as fuck, even to himself.

“Not to me.  Let yourself out, would you?  I’ve got time for another hour of sleep.”

She rolls away from him and pulls the covers up around her neck.  

“Kaitlyn-“

“Bye, Mike.  Nice to meet you.”  

For a minute, he thinks about trying to explain.  But he really can’t.  Fucking Susan.  He really should have had the balls to just end it.  Well, he’s sure as shit going to end it now.  Not that it will make any difference to Kaitlyn, who he’s sure is lying there thinking all kinds of nasty, shitty, true things about him.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters as he stands up to look for his shoes and the rest of his clothes.  

He feels like absolute crap as he lets himself out of Kaitlyn’s apartment.  

[madscientistutm]

As a challenge, and a little fun, I’ve ranked the best versions of the TMNT characters upon request. This is technically a Top 4 although it can also be a Top 5 if an Honorable Mention qualifies. The rankings depend on how the character was portrayed from a creative standpoint as well as the performance of the voice actors. For each character/topic, there have to be at least six versions of a character available so Karai (1987 series’ Lotus Blossom doesn’t count), Baxter Stockman (“Rise...”’s Stockboy doesn’t count), Krang, and B&R don’t qualify. Now it’s time to lawyer up and present my cases for each character beginning with Part 1:

Donatello: (5*)I like Corey Feldman as an actor and a person, I really do but the best I can do for him is an Honorable Mention. It has less to do with being in the 1993 live action movie which, let’s be honest is one of the worst movies of all time, and more to do with not only does he provide a voice similar to that of a chain smoker (although you could say the same about 2003′s Raph) but he was also basically just a Mikey clone. (4)Then you have Rob Paulsen who fits Don better than he does Raph and started out excellent in the first season with all the responsibility he shoulders, his reserved feelings about his existence as a mutant, and his balance of being a bit charming at times and snapping during his more vulnerable moments. He’d be higher though if “Apriltello” was handled a lot better and he wasn’t featured in such bad episodes down the 2012 series’ stretch: “A Chinatown Ghost Story”, “The Fourfold Trap”, “Revenge of the Triceratons”, “The Power Inside Her”, and “Heart of Evil” most notably. (3)To me, Adam Carl did a better job as the voice of the live action Don in TMNT II as he had a better voice (very close to the 2003 series’) and an interesting existential crisis about the meaning of his existence with regards to the mystery surrounding the ooze plot device. (2) It is a bit surprising Sam’s this high when you consider he doesn’t have much range as 2003′s Don but, like Mike and Greg who share that same issue, he fits the character like a glove. Some say his voice is sexy but I think it’s the perfect voice for a pacifist like him. He doesn’t feature much in the series but he is so well portrayed as a character that I have to give him the second spot. (1) However, I have to give the top spot to 1987′s Barry Gordon. He had good lines as Don, provided a nasally but very genius-like voice, and was involved in some of the series’ best and even most fun episodes. He also flexed his voice range a bit in episodes like “Donatello’s Duplicate” and “Night of the Dark Turtle”. And despite him not being Don in every episode (hence the asterisk), he stuck around to the end and he deserves some (more) credit for that.

Leonardo: (5)It was so close between Eric Bauza and James Arnold Taylor it was as though a pinch of salt separated them from the HM. For each positive, there was a negative. When no way to distinguish them individually came about, the tiebreaker had to come down to who was in a better movie and although “Batman vs. the TMNT” wasn’t as good a Batman movie, it certainly was from a TMNT perspective and was overall a better movie than the 2007 one. Eric has built a reputation for being one of the best VAs of this generation, as well as one of the friendliest even in this day of big egos in the entertainment world. He does have his shortcomings such as the Scarecrow scene which showed us nothing we didn’t already know about him (nor did it answer the question of why Leo takes his brothers into battle so much if he worries about their safety) and, compared to JAT, it really is splitting hairs between them but ultimately Eric gets the nod. (4)I knew Cam was going to make this list even if JAT or Eric didn’t which is why he’s #4. Cam’s take on Leo is a lot lighter than any of these others, but he does get better as the series goes along and that’s why I have no problem giving him this spot. (3)I used to think Brian Tochi was the best Leo even though he was less prominent as the original trilogy rolled along. His voice fit Leo perfectly and he was around for the whole thing but there’s a lot more character to the next two. (2)Some are going to say I’m crazy for not putting the 2012 Leo at #1 due to his development and growth in the series and they have a point. I however thought Jason was miscast as Leo, in large part due to his real world behavioral problems. Then he leaves to commit full time to “Orange is the New Black” and Dominic, as far as I’m concerned did a better job. He should’ve stayed full time and not Seth. He does have some compelling moments such as his relationship with Splinter and Karai, as well as being her knight in shining armor in “Vengeance is Mine”--unfortunately it takes until “Requiem” for him to get it back. He also suffers a lot of physical and emotional torment from Shredder until he gets to (temporarily, unfortunately) defeat him in “Owari.” He ultimately becomes his enemy in the true finale “Carmageddon!”, which was a nice poetic touch, until he snaps out of it and finds paradise both figuratively and literally with his family. (1)Ultimately though, I’m giving it to Mike. He didn’t have a lot of range and we could’ve done without his PTSD storyline (at least for how long it lasted) in Season 4, but he fit the character like a glove. He exemplified everything the character is supposed to be and it also helps that he and Sam also weren’t affected as much by the spinoff seasons!

Michelangelo: (4)The closest to an HM is Greg Cipes but I can’t do that. Despite some great stuff such as him reaching and befriending Leatherhead, he was so over the top starting from the beginning and he mostly relied on his Beast Boy schtick. No, I have to start with the big surprise of “Batman vs. the TMNT” and that is Kyle Mooney’s take on the character. He had a really good delivery and some pretty good comedic lines while still not coming off as too OTT and getting in the way like Noel Fisher did in the recent live action movies (yuck!) (3)It’s hard not putting Wayne Grayson any higher. He had this Bugs Bunny vibe with his imitations, voice range, disguises that were mostly cross dressing, energy, and lines that really weren’t bad at all. However, it was the spinoff seasons, mainly FF, that did him in as he became far too one dimensional. And in a competition this thick, that’s all it can take sometimes. (2)It’s splitting hairs between Townsend Coleman and Robbie Rist for the top spot but I ultimately have to give it to TC here. He does deserve credit though for sticking around to the end and never missing an episode (like Cam). (1)Robbie may not live down being the often despised Cousin Oliver, but hopefully he can take solace knowing that he’s #1 as Mikey in the hearts of many (most likely) including this guy. Like Townsend, he stuck around for the whole series when most of the cast didn’t. He was also quite energetic without getting in the way. Ultimately, live action movies also have to be given a bit more of a nod than animated TV shows, and with the 1990 live action movie perhaps being the best TMNT screen adaptation out there, Robbie gets the benefit of the doubt in this situation.

Raphael: (5)Rob’s 1987 series version of Raph may not be the true version of the character, but he had a lot of very good lines and had such a charm behind his voice that you can’t help but like him. He faced some stiff competition from the likes of Alan Ritchison, Omar Miller, and Sean Astin but there’s a saying of mine which is totally fair: “When in doubt go with the original”. And, with the 1987 series being the first TMNT screen adaptation out there, Rob gets the nod. (4)It’s funny that they brought back Josh Pais in the suit for TMNT II, yet they hired Laurie Faso to voice him anyway. I don’t understand it myself but Laurie did a heck of a job filling in for Josh’s voice. He still had that tough, New York sounding attitude who would act on his emotions just as much as he acted on what he thought was the right thing to do. (3)Nolan North is a heck of a voice actor. He was a good pick to portray Raphael in the 2007 animated film and it’d be a shame if he never portrays the character again. The reason he’s not higher is both the competition and the fact that he (and to an extend JAT’s Leonardo) hogged the spotlight from the rest of the characters. (2)Usually I’d think Greg’s version of Raph in 2003 would be #1, at least I did for a time. Anyone who would, I have no problem with. Some would say that him not getting the spotlight so much in the series would keep him out of that spot. That’s not me though. What keeps him out is his lack of range (even though that wasn’t much of a problem for Mike as Leo) and his more one-dimensional nature in the spinoff seasons (mainly FF). I don’t mean that as a knock though since he’s still clearly the best animated version of the character. (1)Ultimately, Josh is #1 here. He can over act at times which would make you cringe a bit, and while his and Greg’s versions of Raph are about the same character-wise, I thought Josh had more range, depth, and story to work with and that’s why he’s ultimately #1.

Part 2 coming soon...

[thecorteztwins]

Idea: Fabian/Pietro but is an Hades and Persephone AU :)

Ok, doing this under a cut both for length and content, warning for a LOT of discussion of noncon because IT’S GREEK MYTHOLOGY:

Ok, so firstly, the version of Hades and Persephone I’ll be basing this on is the original wherein he explicitly kidnaps her, he explicitly abducts her, she is not willing, she does not want to be there, she does not want to be with him, she just eventually gets used to it. I specify this because Tumblr has popularized a very sanitized new version in which Persephone and Hades are this cute happy couple and hooked up very willingly and it’s just all crazy Demeter throwing a fit. Now, I don’t think it’s bad to rewrite new versions of old stories. It’s GREAT. People have been doing that for ages, it’s why there are so many variations on myths and fairy tales. Hell, the Bible literally has books that contradict each other on how the same events went down. And a lot of my favorite works in media are just retellings of familiar stories. So I don’t MIND the idea of going “I am rewriting this myth into something I like better” in itself. But Tumblr has also spread the idea that this is “real” and “original” story, which...no, it is not. Without going too in-depth about ancient texts and translations and stuff, there is no secret older version in which Persephone ever wanted to be with Hades. It has always been a story of kidnapping and implied rape. And there’s no problem if you enjoy the new version that is popular now. I get why a lot of people would! But I just wanted to be clear on WHICH version I’m using, and what kind of content is going to be there. I’m trying to steer away from TOO much darkness here, but also not turn into cute and consensual either. I just don’t want people popping in with comments like “THIS IS WRONG, HADES WOULD NEVER/IN THE ORIGINAL THEY WERE IN LOVE/etc.” You know how people can be when your preferred version of something isn’t their preferred version/the popular version.OK, so Magneto is our Zeus (king of the heavens, lots of kids, isn’t a rapist like Zeus but he sure does enter into a lot of relationships with younger women and slanted power dynamics). Exodus is our Poseidon, he’s Magneto’s lieutenant, his second in command. He’s equally benevolent and destructive, just like the sea, and his sanity shifts like the tides. And Fabian is the third in command and thus given domain under the Underworld, considered the most undesireable of the territories. As in Greek myth, what it lacks in beauty and life (not just no living people/animals, but no flowers and plants and natural beauty either), it makes up for in wealth. The Greeks believed it was literally UNDER the ground, which of course is where gems and minerals were mined, hence why Hades was also the god of riches. In a swap from Greek canon, where Poseidon is as much of a horndog as Zeus and Hades only takes (literally) a woman once, Exodus is celibate and Fabian is...not. Fabian is, well, Fabian. And that seems counterintuitive, right? The seas are teeming with life, just as Poseidon had many children. The Underworld is by definition devoid of life, which is probably why Hades had only woman and it was his wife, and why they never (unless you scour some really obscure stuff) had any children. So, what gives?Much like Fabian started as Magneto’s favorite and first lieutenant only to be replaced by Exodus, it was originally so here too. The stoic, ascetic, loyal Exodus ruled the Underworld, as constant and true as death itself, while the ficke and fertile Fabian ruled the sea with many consorts and an endless stream of children. But Fabian decided to imitate the wrong religion and pull a Lucifer with an attempted coup on Magneto, and thus Magneto swapped his and Exodus’s positions. All of Fabian’s former concubines became lakes and streams, separated from the sea. All his children were transformed into the countless life forms that live in the ocean---the fish, the crabs, the coral, the seals, and so on. All of them once women and children. Cruel and unfair? Sure, but that’s how it goes with gods. Lots of collateral damage and people getting turned into animals/plants, mostly women who didn’t deserve it.Now that Fabian ruled the realm of the dead, Magneto also forced him to take on Exodus’s celibacy. No wives, no women, no children. No sex or fertility could fester in a realm by definition devoid of life. Fabian attempts to weasel around this law as much as he can, but Magneto makes it so that he can’t do anything with the dead souls there, and anyone living he tries to bring there will die the instant they enter. And he’s not allowed to leave. So he tries bargaining. The Underworld has metal, lots of it. You know what Magneto loves? Metal. You know what there isn’t any of up in the Heavens? Metal! Fabian will give him ALL THE IRON (because for some reason that’s Magneto’s fave instead of gold or silver, go figure) if he lets Fabian fuck again. Magneto agrees that he’ll let Fabian have ANY consort of his choosing, so long as he agrees to three rules:- He can only have ONE, and they must wed. No harem.- They must be divine or semi-divine. No mortals. This is the only bride he’s getting, so they have to last.- They must be a man. The justification Magneto gives is he doesn’t want any chance of children but actually Magneto just wants to fuck with him a little because he hates him.Fabian, naturally, turns this down because WHAT THE FUCK MAN! But as he gets more and more stir-crazy over the ages, he finally gives in, takes the bargain, and sets out on a quest to find THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMANLY GOD OR DEMI-GOD MAN HE POSSIBLY CAN!Magneto is amused.Anyway, Fabian watches the surface world for ages through caves, crevices, etc. Since Magneto has cursed him not to be able to actually set foot there, that’s how he sees out into the world of the living, through all the holes in the earth. He does this for hundreds of years, maybe thousands, because he’s that picky, but also getting more desperate with every century too.Enter Pietro, our Persephone, though the role he fills as a deity is more like that of Hermes/Mercury, the super-fast messenger of the gods. Fabian never met him before because he always thought himself too important to use a mere messenger, always demanding an audience with Magneto himself.Speaking of Magneto, he is the father of Pietro and his twin Wanda via a mortal woman. Giving birth to the children of a god placed a strain so great on her body that she dissipated into nothing upon their birth, and they were raised by Bova, the divine cow, until they were old enough to join the world of humans, at which point she left them with a worthy human couple who had lost their own twins. They grew up, discovered their godly powers and heritage, and joined the pantheon, but that’s another story.Anyway, Pietro has wed an elemental, Crystal, and they have a demigoddess daughter, Luna. The only time the super-fast Pietro slows down is to spend time with them (or his sister). Crystal, as an elemental, loves nature, so they’re all having happy family time in this beautiful green glade, splashing about in a lagoon with a waterfall.And the waterfall has a cave behind it, which Fabian can see from. Now, Pietro is pretty, but he’s hardly womanly. He’s got a sharp face and lean muscles and his personality isn’t what I’d call particularly effeminate, going by stereotypes. But he’s still lovely and lithe, and he fits the criteria given by Magneto---male and divine---and Fabian is DESPERATE at this point. So he sees this elfin, attractive dude and he’s just like YES THIS IS IT THIS IS DEFINITELY PRACTICALLY A WOMAN AND THIS IS THE ONE I WANT!So he tells Magneto he’s found his choice, and Magneto lifts the curse long enough for him to obtain his “bride”. Normally no one is fast enough to catch Pietro, he’s the freaking wind itself, but the moment Magneto gives Fabian the “okay” the ground opens beneath Pietro and swallows him up right before his family’s eyes. Next thing he knows, he’s in the Underworld and this huge dude in a cape is standing over him, yammering about how lucky he is to be chosen and how their wedding will be an event to remember for centuries and blah blah blah.Naturally, Pietro is less than thrilled, and punches Fabian in the face without even realizing who he is. He then zooms around the Underworld and realizes where he is, and that there’s no exit. Cue Fabian gloating about how there’s no escape for him and he’s his now. Pietro says that just because he’s HERE doesn’t mean that Fabian can touch him at all, and he does a damn good job of keeping away from the guy. Fabian is more frustrated than ever...then remembers that gods get hungry too. They can’t starve to death, but they do get hungry.And nothing grows in the Underworld. So Pietro is zooming around down there evading Fabian and all the forces he sends to capture him---monsters, Furies, ghosts, Cereberus---but he can’t escape his stomach. He’s ravenous. But he can’t find any food here. Why would there be? No one here needs to eat. As Pietro gets more and more desperate for a single scrap, who appears before him, pomegranate in hand, but Fabian.”Gods cannot starve, but we do hunger, as you do,” he says, as though Pietro needs reminding,”And I too am a god. Any food that is here is in my castle. Be my bride and---”He doesn’t even get to finish before Pietro snatches the pomegranate away and runs once again.Just like Fabian KNEW he would. He knew that Pietro would steal it and run. It was the plan all along.Pietro cracks the pomegranate open, but he only gets six seeds down before he feels the CHANGE happening. Something is WRONG with him. Has he been poisoned? Can a god be poisoned? He cannot die, but he knows he can suffer. And something feels very, VERY strange right now.He drops the pomegranate, and it rolls away, stopping at the booted feet of Fabian.”I was hoping you’d eat more before you caught on,” he says, “But you are, after all, a quick one.”PIetro demands to know what has been done to him. Fabian explains that everything in his domain becomes his when it enters. That’s why none of the other gods come here. And food does not grow here, but it can be brought here. And once it comes here, it also becomes his. Anyone who eats it becomes his---meaning, dead. In Pietro’s case, he can’t die, but it can take his godly powers. He is immortal still, but so long as he is in the Underworld, he will lack his famous speed.He can’t run from Fabian anymore. He fights him, but the larger man drags him back to his dark palace, carved from polished obsidian and basalt, coming out of the rock walls of the Underworld itself. It’s beautiful inside, so much so that Pietro is stunned for a moment in spite of his situation. This is not what he expected the dismal domain of the dead king to be; its opulence outshines even Heaven itself. He’s thrust into a plush and beautifully decorate room the size of a house, told that these are his chambers, and everything he could ever need or want is there. There’s a huge crystal tub with steaming groundwater pouring in, gilded and velvet furniture stuffed with the softest fur of slain animals, paintings (mostly of Fabian, admittedly) and trinkets and...gowns? There’s a ton of women’s clothing here?Fabian informs him he’ll playing the role of a wife, and Pietro freaks out all over again, screaming at him, throwing things, trying to attack him.This is a mistake. Fabian catches him by the throat and tosses him to the floor, reminding him that he’s not so fast anymore. And when Pietro grabs the nearest little golden statue---a smirking bust of Fabian himself---to try to beat his captor’s godly head in, he’s also reminded that Fabian has guards here, who tear his weapon from his hands and hold him back while Fabian smirks down at him in perfection imitation of the golden bust.He says Pietro will adjust. And that he’d better hurry it up because the wedding is already planned. Fabian has been planning it a damn long time, long before he saw Pietro. It’s gorgeous, it’s huge, it’s opulent, it’s over the top, and he is NOT going to have it ruined by an ungratefully reluctant bride! Er, femininely shy bride!The invites go out and Pietro’s name is on them and that’s when Magneto realizes just who it was that caught Fabian’s eye. And Wanda realizes what happened to her brother. Wanda is our Demeter figure. She’s actually more of a Hestia/Hecate combo in terms of her role as a deity, much like how Quicksilver is Hermes but is playing Persephone’s part here, and she’s his sister instead of his mother, but she plays Demeter’s role as the one person who speaks out against this, the one person who rages, the one person who grieves. She uses all her power to petition her father to go back on his bargain, but he refuses her. He’s not happy about this either, but he won’t become an oathbreaker. Not for Pietro. Maybe he would have for one of his daughters, but not the boy.Wanda tries to rescue Pietro next, but the curse of the pomegranate seeds keeps him bound there in the Underworld, one month for each seed eaten.Half a year, every year.So for half a year, every year, Wanda’s chaos powers go haywire, her witchcraft encircling the world, letting loose cold and winds and magic...and ghosts too. The reason there are so many ghost stories around this time? Wanda is fucking with the Underworld and yanking out as many souls as she can just to spite Fabian. But the wedding still goes on. Fabian still has his bride. Pietro is still trapped for six months a year, and he hates it. He fights it for centuries, even long after he knows he can do nothing. And slowly, he adjusts. He finds small but significant ways to rebel, ways to making Fabian unhappy without provoking retaliation. And some small, awful, shameful part of him...begins to enjoy that at least Fabian values him. Sees him as a treasure. Pays attention to him.The way his father never did. And sometimes, Fabian will throw some kind of attempt at real human kindness in there, something more than cold gifts of gold and jewels, something more than cold hands in the dark. Like when he let Eurydice have her chance to go back to Orpheus. That was for Pietro, because Pietro wanted it, because Pietro asked. It was admittedly not done out of REAL kindness or compassion to Pietro, but just in hopes it would make him more compliant out of gratitude. And Pietro realized he could begin to use that. To make things better for people in the Underworld in whatever small ways he could sway Fabian. He had a purpose here. He could be a hero.And so he became not merely Fabian’s new toy, but the beloved Queen to the dead, the one to whom they petitioned for aid, the only god who would ever hear their prayers. And every six months, Pietro would return to the surface world. Wanda’s rage and grief would cease, and Crystal would make the entire world blossom and bloom in happiness at his return.And Fabian would wait, knowing what was his would come back to him.Oh, and while I’m on this: Haven is Medusa. A religiously devout woman (Medusa was a priestess to Athena) who was wronged by a man and then she was supernaturally punished as a result, making her a monster/villain the rest of her life, as well as apparently pregnant the rest of her life (with Pegasus/the Adversary) and only giving birth at her death. Admittedly we’d have to change her rapist since it was Poseidon and EXODUS AIN’T ABOUT THE LIFE but yeah. And I’d make Monsoon our Pegasus, so her son instead of her brother.