#behind the scenes fact: her hands were just circles for 90% of the drawing

[causeimanartist]

Carrie Kelley Robin for art request!! :)

This is either Carrie Kelley or Velma in cosplay, who could say

[bloody-bonesaw]

WTNV 192 + AN IN-DEPTH ANALYSIS OF SCREENSHOTS FROM ‘CAT BALLOU’

I told you I was gonna do it. 

-

First, I’m just gonna acknowledge how cool it is that Fink and Cranor even bothered to make these moments from the episode match up with the timestamps from the film, I love that they’re always trying to include their audience in fun little ways like that.

So the way I’ve decided to do this is go through the episode and compare every moment the movie is given any sort of description, until the point I’ll elaborate on later, where Fink and Cranor clearly take over.

-

“the television turned itself on, and there she was: the Columbia Pictures statue famously morphing into a cartoon and firing off her pistols. I knew exactly the movie, and I couldn’t turn away.”

Yep, this is completely accurate to the film, not much to speculate on here, here’s that clip for anyone interested:

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-

“But soon, I started to notice the face. At around 15 minutes and 30 seconds, between the two balladeers, in the far background there’s the city courthouse. Just to the right of the front door is a man. He appeared as a black smudge at first, but the longer I looked the more I could see that thin mouth, those threatening, beckoning eyes.”

First thing I wanna pick up on here is that this line is actually delivered wrong in the episode. Cecil accidentally says “around 15 seconds, and then 30 seconds” instead of “15 minutes and 30 seconds”. Clearly, this isn’t a big deal, I just enjoy finding little things like that when I go through the transcripts.

Here’s the screenshot of 15:30 from the movie:

I wasn’t able to capture the exact moment as screencapping movies is a pain in the ass, but within the red circle, behind the horse’s head, there is what appears to be an extra wearing a hat, who does indeed appear as just a black smudge. At no point in this shot does the camera get close enough to reveal any sort of facial features whatsoever, so the part about the “threatening, beckoning eyes” was clearly what I will henceforth refer to as, a night-valeism.

Let’s move on

-

"Again at 23 minutes, he’s in the crowd watching the square dance. Everyone’s heads are facing left into the circles of dancers. Every head except one. He’s looking right at the camera again. Not at the camera… at me."

This one was very difficult to analyse as “in the crowd” is a very vague description of this scene, and so they could have been referring to any one of the extras here that weren’t dancing.

Here’s the screenshot:

There were two male extras in this scene who I could make out not looking left at the dance, but the one I circled in red is the only one who actually glances at the camera. Unfortunately, it’s only on screen for a split-second before it cuts so I couldn’t get the exact moment he stares into the camera. I noticed this guy does seem to be a little less ‘in character’ than some of the extras, which is weird considering he’s pretty obvious compared to some of the other extras.

-

“But at 36:55 in the top right, behind the stone well in the thicket, he’s there again. If you have a copy of this movie at home, go watch it, and tell me I’m not imagining this. It reminds me of The Ring [...]”

The interesting thing about this one is that this is the first timestamp included where there is clearly no extras. Here I’ve circled a few smudges that could potentially be mistaken for figures but in this case it’s more likely that Fink and Cranor KNOW there isn’t anyone there- (cont)

-But decided to include it anyway so they could draw that comparison to ‘The Ring’. Look at the well to the right surrounded by trees and tell me it doesn’t remind you of this:

Speaking of ‘The Ring’...

-

“But then at 56 minutes and 56 seconds in, Jane Fonda stands in front of an old shed and throws rocks [...] And behind her on the left, a man stands with one arm on his hip, the other resting on a shovel. His hat hides his face. Then he walks slowly forward, lifting the shovel. He keeps walking forward, downscreen of Jane Fonda, who is still giving the performance everything she’s has, as if some rogue extra isn’t ruining the shot.

The man then lifts the brim of his hat and looks right into the camera. His lips are moving, but not like speaking, more like undulating. It’s hard to hear if he is making any noise, because the audio mix on this movie was terrible. I could barely discern any other sounds beneath the electrical hum of the owls.”

I’m not gonna lie, I’ve never actually watched ‘The Ring’, but I know enough about it to recognise that this scenario, intentional or not, is part of a horror trope popularised by the film. (Interestingly, I noticed Cecil and Jeffery actually covered ‘Ringu’, the Japanese original on their podcast ‘Random Number Generator Horror Podcast Number 9′ (try saying that ten times fast lol) about three weeks ago. Probably unrelated since I doubt they wrote the episode less than three weeks before its release but still, maybe it was just on their minds that day.

All that aside, this is my favourite screenshot they included and you’ll see why:

That’s right, the figure is (pretty much) EXACTLY as described (if you’ll excuse the fact that his hand is on his knee, not his hip, and he’s holding a rake, not a shovel.) As you’ve probably guessed, the second part of that paragraph is a complete Night-Valeism but that shouldn’t be a surprise. 

-

What I love about this whole thing is how it really plays into the idea that Night Vale has suddenly become a part of our universe, what with the movie going from previously being played entirely by eternally-thirty-year-old Lee Marvin (except the balladeers played by Nat King Cole of course) to actually being how it is in the real world, and yet, still containing the Night-Valeisms that make it feel as if our universes have collided. I’d love to hear if anyone had watched this film before the episode came out and if perhaps you felt yourself double checking the scenes in a sort of Mandela-effect fuelled panic.

If you do want to watch the movie for yourself, it’s important to note that what Cecil says in the beginning about outdated and offensive jokes is also, unfortunately, entirely accurate. The film is full of mysogyny disguised as humor and casual 60s racism, so be prepared and remember to view it with a critical eye.

-

If you’re still reading, thank you so much! (And also what on earth are you doing I mean really.) I think it goes to show just how much I care about Welcome to Night Vale that I watched a whole 90 minute movie I wouldn’t have otherwise cared about just so I could give context to this 20 minute episode. I love this damn show so much.

[junicai]

Learn the Alphabet with Aria + Friends ;

273,175 views • 15 Mar 2021 • uploaded by [haechanieski]

A is for: “Adios”

Filming a JCC episode was always something Aria looked forward to - either because she got to watch it later and laugh, or she was a guest star herself. Johnny had taken it upon himself to uphold the communication part of his series name, and asked Aria to teach Czennie some Irish while she was around. 

“And how do you say goodbye?”

“Adios!” Aria spoke with full confidence, a beaming smile directed to the camera. 

Johnny behind her snorted. “Adios?” 

Aria blinked, before spluttering. “Oh no not adios that’s the wrong - that’s not Irish.”

“Isn’t that Spanish?” 

“...yeah.”

B is for: “Baby~”

Aria was leant forward her knees, eyes fixated on the laptop in front of her that was playing the 90s Love music video. It was the first time she had seen it edited and polished, and she was anxiously anticipating her own scenes. 

An Aria appeared on the screen, running her tongue over her top teeth before scrunching her nose and giving the camera a wink. She spun on her heel, tossing a jacket over her shoulder and tilted her head so her sultry smirk was visible to the camera. 

The boys around her clamored loudly, and Aria cringed away from the video - right into Ten’s awaiting embrace who clasped her head in his grip and stopped her from turning her head away from the laptop.

“Baby~” Ten sang, curling his arms around Aria. “My baby is all grown up~” 

Aria whined, thrashing weakly in Ten’s grip in an attempt to shake the boy off. “Nooo.”

“My baby~” 

C is for: “Chewing Gum”

“Yes! It’s been a long time since we performed our debut song.” Aria took over from Chenle who had been speaking into the phone cradled in his hands. The voice-only vlive had been unplanned, and neither idol had been willing to put their messy bedheads on video for their fans to immortalize on twitter. 

Chenle snickered. “Noona is just thankful that she gets to wear things other than pajamas on stage now,” He teased, jostling the phone as he leant over to poke her. 

“That’s not true! Bubblegum will always have a special place in my heart.” Aria defended herself, crossing her arms in front of her stomach to protect it.

Chenle retracted his hand to stare up at Aria with a disbelieving face. She looked back at him, as the boy burst into laughter. 

“Bubblegum?” 

“Chewing gum! I said chewing gum. You misheard me.”

“Bubblegum-” Chenle was wheezing, hand gripping Aria’s arm tightly.

“I’m a foreigner! I have an accent!” 

“Noona, that’s in English?!”

D is for: “Deicide”

“Jaemin! Leave me alon- ow.” Aria’s attempts to fight off a cuddly boy proved ineffective, the boy in question succeeding in drawing the squirming girl onto his lap and securing her in position with his arms around her waist. 

Aria let out a long-suffering sigh, closing her eyes in resignation. 

“Okay, yes, okay. Fine. I’m done you win.” 

Jaemin smiled, satisfied, and tucked his head into the crook of Aria’s neck, humming to himself. His content mood was quickly yanked away from him however, as Aria leant down to whisper in his ear.

“Jaeminne. If you don’t let me go to finish doing my hair, I’m going to remind you of the fact that I have zero qualms with deicide, and you have yet to reach god-like standards.” 

Paling slightly, he retracted his hands and Aria pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before hopping off his thigh. 

E is for: “Eomma”

Aria squealed as she was tackled down, hitting the ground with a thunk as Jaehyun leapt for her from across the room. “No no no I’m sorry I take it back I take it back-” 

Jaehyun was grinning down at her as he slid his hands up her sides and began to tickle her, pinning down her flailing arms as she tried to hit him. “Oh yeah? You’re sorry now?”

“Yes! Yes I’m sorry I promise - you’re not - I didn’t mean it -” Aria struggled to get the words out, unable to catch her breath. 

“Eomma!” She cried out, face red and hurting with how much she was laughing. “Help mee~” 

F is for: “Fudge”

Stumbling around the dorm in the dark was never a good idea, but it was late and the other members besides herself and Donghyuck were already asleep. Aria hadn’t wanted to disturb them, so the only lighting the pair had was the fading light from their phone flashlights. 

“I can’t see it, but I know I put it down here somewhere? Do you think it’s behind the tab- FU-dge. I like fudge, do you like fudge?” Aria leant over the table to rest her arm on Donghyuck’s shoulder, peering at him curiously. 

Her eyes were pinched with pain, and she was hopping slightly. 

“Did you stub your toe on the table?” 

“Psh, no! This is a serious question Hyuck. Fudge preferences are serious business.” 

G is for: “Gorgeous”

“Oh! Gorgeous dahling. Positively stunning.” Aria spoke in a pompous voice, face pulled down with pinched lips and squinted eyes and obnoxiously raised eyebrows. She fluttered her hand around in an aggressively dramatic hand gesture, before spinning on her heel to flounce out of the room. 

Mark and Taeyong exchanged a wide eyed glance. Clearly the ‘Greek God’ inspired video had gone more to her head than they had previously anticipated. 

H is for: *intense heavy breathing*

Jungwoo took one look at Aria lying on the practice room floor, and immediately proceeded to flop down - belly first - onto the unsuspecting girl. Aria let out an oof, choking slightly at the sudden weight on her chest. 

“Jung-w-oo,” She coughed out, slapping weakly at the weight of the older boy. 

He only hummed in response, not moving from his position, despite the fact that Aria’s zip on her hoodie was digging into his cheek. He swung his arms up to cover her shoulders, and soon he was lying completely on top of her, obscuring the smaller girl from view. 

All was quiet for a moment, before Aria broke the silence with exaggerated, heavy breathing, panting for air. Her eyes widened comically, and she was smiling despite the fact that Jungwoo was actually crushing her lungs slightly.

Still, no attempt was made to get off her, and she slowly resigned herself to her fate. 

I is for: “I surrender”

The camera was set up a safe distance away, so that when the bag of flour fell to the ground and poofed up in the inevitable cloud of white dust - the piece of equipment was unharmed. Because of this, it was given a perfect view of the sequence of events that immediately followed: 

Aria, grip-less in her socked feet stepped backwards out of the flour coating the floor, misjudged the circumference of the circular cloud that had by then settled, and promptly slipped over, clattering to the ground with a thud and disappearing behind the counter with a half-formed yelp. 

The screen was empty for a moment, still, before a hand shot up from behind the counter, coated in the white flour.

“I surrender,” Aria waved her hand back and forth like a flag, commiserating with the now ruined flour lining the tiled floor. 

J is for: “Jesus Christ”

The walls were lined with fake and real cobwebs alike, barely visible in the complete lack of light offered from the red blinking lights of the cameras that recorded each NCT 127 member as they crawled their way tentatively through the haunted house’s hallways.

Aria shuffled past old beams that looked far too close to collapse for comfort, sneezing after her nose was ticked by a hanging vine that she hadn’t seen before it was already brushing her nose as she scooted past. 

The hallways were quiet, only the sound of her own breathing audible to her heightened senses. That was, until a hand shot out from behind a load-bearing beam, gnarled nails reaching to grab at her skin. 

She jumped back, letting out a vocal-chord ripping shriek. “Jesus Christ!” 

K is for: *Kiss*

“So, Aria is not a lover of skinship?” The question was posed to Taeyong, the leader having been given the choice to choose his member’s punishment after losing the game they had been playing. 

Taeyong let out a short chuckle, seeing where the interviewer was going with their question. “No, no she’s not. Only if we initiate it - and she’ll normally kick us off pretty quickly.” 

Aria was shaking her head, making slicing motions in front of her neck to signal Taeyong to stop, no, please anything but that, stop it-

Taeyong paid no mind to her, and soon Aria was settled on a stool in the centre of the studio floor, knees tucked into her chest as Jaemin, Ten, Doyoung and Taeil - the members of her losing team - all gathered around her in a circle.

One by one, they all pressed a single kiss to her cheek, Aria cringing away from Ten’s hold when he went to press another peck to her forehead, and Doyoung coming behind her to hold her still. 

When the four boys retreated, Aria was red in the face, the blush adorning her cheeks visible despite the foundation.

L is for: “You don’t love me”

“Hyuck, I have to go.” 

“Noooo.” The boy whined from his position sprawled over the mattress, legs spread and hands clutching onto Aria’s wrist to prevent her from leaving. “Stay. M’comfy.”

Aria sighed, tugging at her wrist futilely. “Hyuck, I’m literally going to the bathroom. I’ll be five minutes - less if you let me go now.”

Donghyuck only whined louder, tightening his grip. “No!”

Tossing her head back to the ceiling, Aria yanked her hand out of his grip, plugging her ears against the screech of protest that left Donghyuck’s mouth.

“NO! Come back!”

When Aria made no motion to return, having exited through the doorway hastily, he threw himself back onto the bed. “You don’t love me anymore!” 

Her response echoed down the hallway, punctuated by the slamming of the bathroom door. “I do! You’re just a big baby and I needed to go!”

M is for: *Mine*

Aria slid beneath the reaching arm of their maknae, patting him on the side to make him edge a little to the left as she too reached for one of the cookies that were set up on the small snack table. 

The white chocolate chips were tempting her, and after staring at the still-full plate for twenty minutes, there was only so much she could do in terms of self restraint. 

Scurrying back to her original seat, she settled back in comfortably, bringing the cookie up to her mouth and nibbling at the crunchy edge of the treat.

N is for: “Neo”

“Nono?” Aria bent her neck down to peer at the boy who had entered through the door, dropped his bag, slid off his shoes and then promptly snuggled himself into Aria’s side without so much as a hello.

Jeno nodded in acknowledgement, but made no attempt to explain his curious behaviour. 

“Dude,” Aria sighed, hand already moving to run through his hair despite her long-suffering eyeroll,  “You’re not being very neo right now.”

O is for: “Ow”

Sitting beside Mark in any context was never a good idea when one wasn’t wearing sleeves or long trousers. He was a very, volatile, laugher, and once he got going it was impossible to stop.

Unfortunately for Aria, her short dress afforded her neither of the aforementioned luxuries, and so she was sure that by the end of the day she was going to be covered in black and purpling bruises from Mark’s non-malicious attacks. 

The movie on the screen flickered to a new scene, one that sent Mark into another burst of raucous laughter. His hand raised, and clapped down on Aria’s arm, again, and again, and again.

“Ow, ow, ow ow ow ow, Mark!” 

P is for: “Potato juice”

Lucas held up his glass to the camera, grinning as he said, “Apple juice!”

Taeyong bit back a smile as Jungwoo fit himself into the frame, holding his own glass and affirming Lucas’ statement. “Apple juice!” 

The camera was spun around, focusing briefly on the apostles of darkness who held up their own glasses of apple juice, before it panned down the row to where Aria was sitting, cradling a glass of clear liquid in her hands that she was taking small sips from. 

Taking notice of the camera focusing on her, she took another sip of her glass before holding it up in a cheers. “Potato juice!” She cheered, bringing it back to her lips and paying no mind to the startled cough Doyoung let out, choking on his own apple juice. 

Doyoung spun to the camera, gently pulling the glass from Aria’s grasp. “Water. It’s water.” His tone dropped a few decibels, “Did Jaehyun give you this? I’ll kill him.”

Q is for: “Quickly”

“Quickly! Hurry up!” Renjun yelled, rushing over to help Aria into the inflatable costume to begin her run.

 “Yah, Renjun! I’m not on your team stop yelling at me!” Aria retorted, pushing his fumbling hands away and pulling up the straps onto her shoulders. 

R is for: “Ruff”

The door swung open with a quiet creak, Donghyuck only hearing it when the handle made contact with the wall behind it. He spun around in his chair, eyebrow lifting at the sight of Aria partially in through the doorway. “Hey?”

“Ruff.” Aria blinked at him, unmoving.

“Uh, ruff?” Donghyuck responded in kind, his eyebrows now knitting together in confusion.

Nodding satisfactorily, Aria exited the room with a wave. “Mark! I told you I could get him to bark on live.”

S is for: “Saranghae”

 It was a group-wide agreement that in 127, the title for cutest either went to one of the maknaes, or their oldest hyung. Apparently that agreement also spread over stan-twitter, because suddenly Taeil and Aria were being pitted against each other in an aeygo-off. Fan edits and polls were made, and TaeilvsAria was trending on Twitter for nearly a week.

Eager to encourage the trend, it was all too easy for the staff to set the pair up in front of a camera and press record. 

Two minutes in, and neither member had broken, both maintaining their stoic faces - although Aria’s lip was slightly red from being bitten, having resorted to pinching the skin between her lips to prevent a smile from breaking out on her face when Taeil had tucked his hands underneath his chin and pouted.

She inhaled, thinking hard on how to end the competition swiftly, exhaling with a small smile as she settled on her next plan of attack. 

Spinning around, Aria set her gaze on Taeil, letting her eyes widen and her lips fall into a natural pout. 

“Oppa~” She wheedled, moving to clasp his hand in hers. “Saranghae~”

Taeil’s face crumpled, and he closed his eyes in defeat as he dragged Aria into his embrace. “Cheater.”

T is for: “Tough biscuits”

“But what if I don’t want to?” Yangyang argued, pointing at Aria.

“Then, tough biscuits.” Aria stuck out her tongue in retaliation, stealing the game controller from his hands and flicking the game to Minecraft. “I suck at those shooty-games, let me have this.”

U is for: “Unnie”

With her mask pulled up over her nose and lips, Aria was pretty confident that she wasn’t going to be recognized by a member of the public as she strolled down the street towards the coffee shop that had recently opened its doors a few streets over. 

She was humming happily, but jolted as she felt an arm snake itself around her waist. Immediately on high-alert, she went to push the unknown person away, before catching a glimpse of their face. 

“Unnie!” Aria’s entire demeanor changed, face breaking out into a bright smile beneath the black facemask. 

Irene smiled back at her, squeezing her waist lightly. “Hey, angel! How’re you?”

V is for: “Very untrue”

“And Aria normally naps during this time anyway, so we should be happy she’s awake for this.” Jaemin informed the few thousand czennie watching the vlive, phone tucked in between two chairs in the greenroom. 

Aria’s mouth dropped open at the obvious betrayal. “Hey! Very untrue! False information! You liar, I do not.” 

Jaemin snickered, leaning into the phone. “You can see the marks on her cheek from the arm of the chair too, right czennie?” 

The dancer leant over and thumped him on the back of his head for that.

W is for: “Wait wait wait-”

 Aria was sprinting down the hallway, phone clutched to her chest and panting. Yuta followed in quick pursuit, rapidly gaining thanks to longer legs and shoes that offered more grip than the tenuous grip offered by Aria’s slippers.

“Wait wait wait, Yuta, no I don’t want to die!” She breathed, pumping her legs faster in an attempt to flee from almost certain death. Perhaps, taking candid photos of the man while he was unconsciously snuggled up to Mark’s side as he slept was, in hindsight, not the best idea. 

Yuta was rapidly gaining on her, despite her best efforts. 

“Please don’t kill me!” 

X is for: “Xièxiè”

Accepting the glass from Kun’s hand, Aria smiled up at the man. “Xièxiè.” 

Kun, who was already moving away and back into the kitchen responded in kind, before flinging himself into another bout of conversation; but this time, with a language switch. 

Being so used to the constant flip-flopping between languages in the WAYV dorms, he thought nothing of it, but after asking a question and receiving no response, he peered back into the main living area to see Aria sitting there with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Uh, Xièxiè?”

Y is for: “Yessir”

Taeyong explained what it is Aria had to complete for her mission, handing her a small slip of paper that she was to hide from the other team before they came into the makeshift base that had been constructed a few minutes prior. 

Aria nodded, completely serious. “Yes sir.” 

He waved her away, happy that she understood the level of importance that he had just entrusted her with, and Aria happily departed from the conversation - 

By the means of vaulting a table and scrambling over a chair before exiting the door.

Taeyong blinked. And then shrugged, turning his attention elsewhere.

Z is for: *Zzzz*

Snuggled up beneath a blanket is exactly where Aria wanted to be at that very moment - not sitting in the back of a van, squished between Johnny and Yuta. The two men were broad-shoulders, and that left Aria to be batted between the two like a ping-pong ball. 

Despite the abrasions to her temple however, Aria found herself slowly drifting off - the lengthy schedules and lack of sleep finally catching up on her. 

Her head dropped to the side, first falling forward before it was gently maneuvered onto Yuta’s shoulder, where he tucked her closer and into his side. 

Letting out a pleased hum, Aria snuggled closer into his warm coat, sighing softly as she drifted to sleep.

thank you for watching ! - haechanieski

[maxwell-grant]

Any thoughts on Darkman, the Liam Neeson movie? I heard it was originally going to be a Shadow movie.

I love Darkman very much, but I've realized recently that this love comes with some pretty bittersweet feelings at the story behind it.

Michael Uslan: I was going to produce a Shadow feature film with Sam Raimi, but Sam got consumed by back-to-back movies and we ran out of time. We were headed in a good, period piece direction and managed to do so without relying on yet another bout with Shiwan Khan. I later had another major director passionate to do The Shadow, but a person at the company wanted to do a modern day TV series instead, which ultimately did not go... - comment saved from a post in The Shadow Knows Facebook group

For those of you who only now got into The Shadow or don't remember, for much of the early 00s, when The Shadow basically had no current projects and Conde Nast was taking down webpages and fan content left and right, the only things that kept this "fandom" alive were occasional fanfics (many of which are gone now), and the dim light in the horizon that was the rumors that Sam Raimi was finally going to make his Shadow film. Dig back on The Wayback Machine for Shadow web page and you're gonna see this as consistently the only thing they had to look forward to in regards to the character. These rumors floated around for over a decade, at one point Tarantino was even supposed to direct it, but he confirmed in 2013 that it wasn't going to happen. At least, not with him at the helm.

The project has been dead for a while now, and Conde Nast seems to be shuffling around plans for the character, and I deleted my Facebook months ago so I haven't kept up with any news, although it seems the James Patterson novel wasn't received too well, so I'm not sure what other plans they have in the pipeline.

Back in the 1970s, after the release of Richard Donner's Superman and in line with The Shadow's pop culture resurgence, thanks to the paperback reprints and the 70s DC run, there were plans to make a Shadow feature film, and there were quite a handful of scripts being tossed around for the following years (Will Murray states most of them were horrible), several names attached to the project at one point or another. The plans died down a bit following Gibson's death and only really picked up again after the 90s, and of course we all know that the 1994 movie came out with spectacularly bad timing. From what I recall, it seems Sam Raimi wanted to make his Shadow film in the 80s, was unable to secure the rights, and then just made his own version, which would go on to be his first major motion picture.

Even after making Darkman, Sam Raimi still wanted to make The Shadow. I guess that's ultimately the bittersweet part for me. I imagine the current state of Shadow media would be significantly better if Sam Raimi, who was a fan of the character and the pulp version (and even knows of The Shadow's connection to Houdini and stage magic), got to make his Shadow film, years before Blood & Judgment, years before Burton's Batman made it impossible for a Shadow film not to be compared to it, in a time period where it wouldn't have had to compete with The Lion King and The Mask for box office. And second, I have been drawing up my plans for Shadow projects for, what, 5 years now? And I have just barely got my foot off the door as a filmmaker. Sam Raimi had a decade-long career as a cult filmmaker before he got turned down, and decades later, after becoming a household name in charge of Marvel's biggest icon, the project still fell through. It doesn't exactly get my hopes up, y'know.

I love Darkman, it's the best Shadow film that doesn't technically star the real Shadow, and it works pretty well on it's own regardless of that association, but I do get pretty sad looking at it from the outside, because I just can't help but think on what it could have been.

In some aspects I do think the film benefits from not being about The Shadow proper, because it means Raimi got the freedom to do whatever the hell he wanted. The character of Darkman already existed separately from Sam Raimi's plans for a Shadow film, already carrying off the Phantom / Universal Monster influence, and what Raimi did was basically combine the two ideas together.

He took the basic iconography of The Shadow, a terrifying urban crimefighter in coat and slouch hat, and add in other Shadow traits like his mastery of disguise, his disfigurement, and that wonderful scene where he's invisibly running circles around a panicky triggerman while laughing maniacally, a moment which definitely feels like Raimi taking a second to indulge himself to do what you can call The Classic Shadow Scene with a character he's, for the most part, succesfully convinced us (and Conde Nast's lawyers, most importantly) isn't supposed to be The Shadow.

But then he filters these through his own influences and style to make him a new character, so instead of a mysterious mastermind with lots of resources and a enigmatic background, instead he's a disfigured and psychotic scientist with a vengeance against those who made him that way. He's like Night Raven, in the sense that he's built off traits that The Shadow has, but develops them differently to the point he stands on his own as a character. It's The Shadow combined with The Phantom of the Opera, filtered through a 1930s Universal Horror lens, played for greater tragedy and a dash of Evil Dead 2 wackyness.

He hides away in trashed up ruins and bickers with a cat, he has fits of rage that make him endanger innocents, he has a doomed love affair, and sometimes he gets so batshit he gives us hilarious moments like "TAKE THE FUCKING ELEPHANT" and "SEE THE DANCING FREAK! PAY - FIVE - BUCKS! TO SEE THE DANCING FREAK!". Moments that really show why he was such a good fit for Spider-Man despite the liberties he took with the source material.

I think the big thing that helps to make Darkman works as a property in it's own right is also that, ultimately, these influences are ultimately at the forefront of it, and the core of it works on it's own. Darkman is a believable, engaging character in his own right, one who tells a story that would be more at odds with The Shadow proper. 

In some aspects, Darkman tries to be The Shadow, he is forced to become The Shadow by literally picking the clothes off a dumpster after he escapes the hospital, and it's a miserable, wretched existence, in a way rather befitting his status as a legally safe knock-off. He is a creature of nightmare who lost his face and takes on a dozen others to fight crime by turning terror against them, except he is still just a man in the end, and no man was ever supposed to live like this.

Raimi was also inspired by the Universal horror films of the 1930s and 1940s because "they made me fear the hideous nature of the hero and at the same time drew me to him. I went back to that idea of the man who is noble and turns into a monster".

He originally wrote a 30-page short story, titled "The Darkman", and then developed into a 40-page treatment. At this point, according to Raimi, "it became the story of a man who had lost his face and had to take on other faces, a man who battled criminals using this power"

A non-superpowered man who, here, is a hideous thing who fights crime. As he became that hideous thing, it became more like The Phantom of the Opera, the creature who wants the girl but who was too much of a beast to have her

I decided to explore a man's soul. In the beginning, a sympathetic, sincere man. In the middle, a vengeful man committing heinous acts against his enemies. And in the end, a man full of self-hatred for what he's become, who must drift off into the night, into a world apart from everyone he knows and all the things he loves.

For the role, Raimi was looking for someone who could suggest "a monster with the soul of a man"

It's the fact that Darkman is ultimately played for vulnerability and tragedy that really sets him apart. While I wouldn't go far enough to say The Shadow is a man with the soul of a monster, still, the difference in presentation is still there when it comes to these two. The Shadow is The Other, Darkman is You. Darkman is the victim of extraordinary circumstance that affects his life, The Shadow is the extraordinary circumstance that affects the lives of others. People react to The Shadow, Darkman reacts to people (and rather poorly).

One is the man who takes off his skin (or yours, staring back at you) to reveal the weird creature of the night ready to prowl and pounce and cackle at those who think they hold power over it's domain, and the other is the monster who falls apart bit by bit until you are left staring at the broken man within who has no choice but to be something he was never supposed to be.

The Shadow is The Master of Darkness. Darkman weaponizes the dark, but in the end, he's still just a man, lost within it. Not everyone can be The Shadow, and you would most likely turn into Darkman if you tried.

[mariamermaid]

The Queens Gambit

Ron Weasley x fem reader

Summary: Ron had been waiting for weeks for the upcoming chess tournament in London, but what if his title is endangered by a rookie…

Words: 4k

A/N: I think it´s pretty obvious where I got the inspo from, but in case you haven´t watched the show; I can highly recommend it! (That doesn´t mean you have to watch the show before reading though) I decided to add a few more characters from the HP fandom to make the story a little more entertaining. It´s basically like a little alternate universe story (but not really??)

  “Do you have a clock?”

You shook your head as you filled out the form with your name and other information. It was your first tournament and as much as you were excited on the inside, you kept a cool exterior. In reality, your heart was pounding against your chest. You had counted the days to this precious Saturday midmorning.

“If you´re opponent doesn´t have one, we´ll loan you one. Play starts in 20 minutes”, the boy in front of you nonchalantly explained. He was tall, but his slack figure was loosely positioned on the wooden chair. His teeth were a little crooked and he barely looked up to eye you any further. “What´s your rating?”

You glanced up from the paper in your hand, furrowing your brows. “My rating? I don´t have a rating.”

“Have you ever played in a tournament before?”

“No.” Your voice was steady, but a slight annoyance grew as the rules of the tournament seemed to have decided to play against you.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Starring directly at the boy, merely a man, in front of you, you nodded. Then you handed the paper back to him. “I´m sure.”

“Then I put you in beginners”, he sighed and shrugged.

“I´m not a beginner”, you argued, but apparently, that didn´t change anything. “Doesn´t matter, if you´re an unrated player, you go in beginners and people with ratings under 1600.”

A pause fell from your lips, clearly Merlin didn´t want you playing against actual contenders.

“Is it against any rule for me to play in the Open?” The boy with dark short hair seemed taken back by your sudden and quick answers, and he stuttered when answering. Maybe it was your confidence that startled him, maybe it was the pure attendance of a female.

“Not… Not exactly.”

“Then put me in the open.”

“There are three guys with over 1800 and Weasley might show up, you have no chance.”

You didn´t answer, leaving him sitting behind the desk. You weren´t sure, if he meant to spare you with good will, or simply feared that an irascible woman could ruin the tournament.

Neville Longbottom, looked at the paper handed to him and read out the name. “Y/n Y/L/N.”

When entering the hall, that was used for all kinds of events when booked, very few decorations fell into your eye. A few flags with symbols of schools or teams and a few goblets. Pieces of sports equipment were pushed to the sides for space. The tables, all fairly small with enough space for the chessboards, were placed induvial throughout the room. Boys, mostly around your age and older were talking to each other, while other´s sat down to study their strategies. At the back was a partitioning, that’s where the big players gamed.

 Another boy, he seemed to be around your age with dark hair and round glasses joined you in eyeing the scene.

“Are the matches played random?”, you asked him quietly without looking away from the tables. You hoped for no unwanted attention, which was easier said than done. Especially giving the fact, that you were one out of two girls.

“No, they match it by ratings on their first round. After that winner play winners and losers play losers.” The boy answered. He seemed calm about his presence as well as his answer. He had clearly played before in tournaments. You nodded understanding, before walking to the first table assigned to you.

The second girl other than you, was sitting to your opposite.

You starred at the clock at the side of the chess board, you had never played with a clock. It annoyed you deeply that it made you look like a beginner. You were good and you were planning to win. The girl, black shoulder length hair and almond shaped eyes, noticed your look and offered you a polite smile.

“I´m Cho Chang. Each player has 90 minutes, after you move, you press the button closest to you. Then it´s your opponent’s turn.”

You didn´t want to talk much, you were there to play, but you appreciated her explanation. Then your eyes traveled through the room, just to find Cho´s again.

“Why do they put the girls together?”

“They´re not supposed to, but if you win, they´ll move you up. Have you ever played in a tournament?”

You shook your head slightly. “No.”

But she simply shrugged. “I´m sure you´ll do fine.”

“What about Ron Weasley, is he coming today?” Oh, the king of chess, at least currently.

You had read about him, his matches from his first years at Hogwarts. Even Dumbledore himself had praised him and the daily prophet had written multiple articles about him. You had studied his games, over and over. It was him, who you wanted to play.

“Yeah, he has to defend his title.”

 After 20 minutes, Neville heard light steps approaching. Only seconds after, he found you standing in front of him again. “What do I do with this?” You hold up the paper from your match. It took every bit of effort to hide your happiness, the first game had taken a lot of weight off your shoulders. After beating Cho, you were more determined than ever.

“Is your match already over?”

“Yes, I won”, you shrugged.

“That was fast, circle your name and drop in the basket”, he muttered and you did as said. Neville starred at the spot where you had previously stood; something tingled in his senses. Maybe you would actually get a chance to prove yourself to the higher players.

 You snuck through the rows of players still starring at their boards until reaching the dividers. Clearly, you were fast, faster than most of them, which gave you time to study the room further. But the interesting part was happening behind the dividers. You paused for second, before deciding to enter. Around the table was a group of people watching, within the crowd, the boy from before with the round glasses. It was your turn to join his side and watch the two seated players. By the red hair, you could easily make out Ronald Weasley himself. His green eyes were pierced on the board as he chewed on his lips. You had seen several pictures of him in the newspaper, but seeing him in person? It was a new excitement rushing through your veins.

“Is he a Grandmaster?”, you asked the dark-haired boy to your left. Curiosity had always been in your nature, it even more so, got you into trouble.

“He´s working on it, it takes time. You have to play a grandmaster to become one.”

“How much time?”

“Do you mind?”, Ron turned from the game, eyeing you with caginess. His green eyes pierced right through yours and you pressed your lips to a thin line, looking to the floor with guilt. Internally, you cursed at yourself, but the smallest part showed a weird reaction; Ron Weasley had taken notice of you. Not in the way you wanted, but maybe he´d remember you. Slowly, they all focused back on the game.

Weasley´s opponent, Blaise Zabini, had his arms crossed in front of the board. “Draw?”

Ron shook his head, he wasn´t cruel. However, the victory was too close and too easy for him. “No.”

Zabini sighed, watching as Ron´s Queen moved on the board to shatter his king. The art of wizard chess remained aggressively; how queens and rooks smashed and destroyed kings and pawns. It was fascinating to you.

Weasley clapped at his own win, just like the crowd, a smirk back on his lips. “Yes!”

The group around you echoed in further applause and you couldn´t help but feel a smile. The two of them shook hands, before Zabini took off in defeat. He tried his best not to show his disappointment and anger. Ron watched his tall figure leave through the crowd, until his eyes landed back on you. You felt a blush rushing into your cheeks. Did you said he´d remember you? He probably despised you already.

Avoiding his glance again, knowing you had already attracted unwanted attention, you swallowed. Ron on the other hand just realized the pretty girl, who had watched him…

 The minutes and hours took by and one after one player was defeated by you. Oh, how you loved winning. Some might decline it as a weakness, but it was the drive that kept you going.

“That´s check”, you explained after successfully beating another man. He adjusted his hair, feeling clearly uncomfortable. You on the other hand, had found your safe zone.

“I know what it is”, he then replaced his Queen, which rose from her throne, before making her way to the newly assigned field. But you had already figured out his move and even more so, your own win.

“Draw?” He asked, nervously tapping with his pencil. You had placed your head on top of your hands, watching him closely. You shook your head.

“I resign”, he admitted.

 “Dinner break, then three more rounds. Final round on Sunday 11a.m.”; Neville explained, while the players had gathered outside the hall to either chitchat or look at the charts of the past games. You eyed the chart; you had won four games already. Two games were listed above you, the next one was against Harry Potter. You furrowed your brows. “You said there were three people with ratings higher than 1800!”

Neville, the boy of drossy posture and crocked teeth, looked up from the papers. He had already guessed that you would complain. “Yes, that´s right.”

“I thought I´d be playing one of them.” Neville sighed, his love for chess, organization of tournaments and the clear instructed rules, were a little thwarted by you. “You don´t have a rating, consider yourself lucky.”

“How do I get a rating?”

“You play 30 games in the USCF tournaments and then wait four months.”

“But that’s too long! I want to play Weasley”, you exclaimed. The calculations in your head were fast and no matter how you turned it, time was your enemy. “If you win your next three games and if he does the same…”

“I will.”

 Annoyed, you stepped back into the hall. You were ambitious to win. It was all you had and the potential price money lurked you even more. At home, nothing but your mother waited for you. Money had always been a big concern, she wasn´t even able to afford for you to go to Hogwarts. Everything you knew about magic; she had taught you.  She worked two jobs to make enough money for food and rent and while she cleaned motel rooms, one of the guests that often stayed at the motel, taught you to play wizard chess; Mr. Lupin was an amazing teacher…

 At the table of your next tournament, you found the dark-haired boy with round glasses. He awaited you and smiled as you finally sat down. “I´m Harry, Harry Potter.”

Besides your prior encounter, you had seen him talking to Ron Weasley and a small wave of exhilaration rose inside you. He and Weasley seemed close friends. “Y/n, Y/L/N.”

The game started with innocent moves from pawns. In between, Harry glanced up to you, checking. But you were sure of what you were doing. Minutes passed into the game and Harry started realizing that you were better than him, he didn´t show it yet, but he was well aware. Nevertheless, he was enjoying an exquisite game of chess.

You took his queen nonchalantly, which fell off the board in debris, and nervously licking his lips, he wrote down new notes on his notepad, before making his move. Your turn again, the rook.

Harry folded his hands, starring at the game. He pondered how to get out. After more minutes passing, a few people even started to watch you. They stood in the background, far enough to not make it conspicuous, but close enough for you to notice.

You moved your king and Harry sighed. “Merlin, Y/n, you´re humiliating my rook.”

“You won´t have to suffer much longer.”

Yes, you had it all played out in your head. Your win was safe and secure.

A smile was on your lips. Two further moves, and it was done.

He stretched out his hand in defeat and you took it. “Good game, you´re very talented.”

You shrugged as if it didn´t matter, but it did. To you it did. “You really are something.”

Saturday came to an end; you had won every single game. With your head tilted high, you stepped out the building. Fresh air flowed through your lunges and you took a deep breath. Suddenly voices echoed from your right; a few steps away Harry was talking to Ron Weasley. They chuckled in ease as they continued to make conversation. Ron´s back was turned into your direction, but Harry quickly noticed you.

“Hey Y/N! You played well today; do you want to grab a butterbeer with us?”

A bitter taste spread on your mouth; you had never even tried butterbeer. But all your savings had gone into the fee of the tournament and you already expected a long lecture when coming home. You shook your head with a polite smile on your lips. “Sorry, I have to get home.”

The two boys watched as you left, silence between them.

“She´s good, better than all the other girl´s I´ve seen”, Harry added and his friend rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Harry, just because she beat you, doesn´t mean she´s some kind of unknown genius. She doesn’t even have a rating.”

Harry shrugged innocently. “Whatever you say, but be careful, maybe she´ll even beat you.”

Ron echoed in laughter as he playfully punched his friend’s shoulder. “As if!”

 Sunday came, Ronald Weasley was late.

“Mom, have you seen my shoes?”

“Ronald, if you just once tidied up you might find them at the right place!”

Ron wasn´t nervous, but as so often, he was running late. With the annual tournament of wizard chess, he was ready to defend his title as current state champion.

Finally, the shoes had been next to the dishwasher (probably Fred´s and George´s play), he threw over his jacket and made his way to the fire place. “Mom, I´m leaving.”

Molly Weasley, who always knew where every single one of her children was, came hurrying down the stairs. With swift motions she brushed away dirt from Ron´s jacket and then started fidgeting around with his red hair. “Mom!”, Ron instructed his mother to stop and hurried towards the fireplace. He took the floo powder and rolled his eyes as Molly started wiping away a tear.

“There goes my champion!”

 You sat at the table, the same table where Ron had previously won against Zabini, waiting and growing impatiently. People around you waited as well. You couldn´t help but feel a deeper reluctance towards the conceited champion. Finally, you flinched as the door opened.

“Sorry, took a butterbeer on the go”, Ron added and held his cup high to show his evidence. You wanted to let out a sigh and roll your eyes, but you resisted to do so.

He took another sip before stretching out his hand.

“Ron Weasley, what´s your name?” Quickly, you shook his hand. Ron knew your name, Harry had told him, but he asked nevertheless. It was a rude tactic to make you feel smaller against him. You on the other hand wanted to begin, not waste more time. “Y/N, Y/L/N.”

He nodded acknowledging and the game started.

Five minutes into the game, he yawned.

It drove you insane. Did he do it on purpose? To make you lose focus? Or was he as underwhelmingly annoying?

He played confidential, not even thinking he could lose. It didn´t even take seconds for him to plant his moves. It intimated you and no matter how hard you tried not to show, the second yawn as you moved the pawn, did bring you to a slight stumble. Neville as well as Harry stood in the audience watching.

You felt sweat forming on your neck and cleavage, and strain pushed against your temples.

“I´ll be right back.” You jumped off your seat and hurried into the bathroom, leaving behind their confused faces.

Cold water ran down your hands and you placed the refreshing cool on your cheeks and neck.

Your eyes were pinned in the mirror, starring angrily at yourself. Running away from the game felt like an embarrassment enough, you weren´t ready to lose.

“Come on, you can beat him.”

Slowly, your stare wandered towards the ceiling. The chess board appeared out of your imagination and the figures stood tall, just like you had left them behind. Then, they started moving and each time you found yourself in an inescapable path, they pulled back into their initial position. Until…

 As you sat down, you were steadier as before. It surprised Ron a little and he watched as you moved your knight to take out one of his pawns. His rook then took your knight and you followed by replacing your pawn. On and on. The game continued. You were dangerously calm and as you placed the bishop down, you watched his face closely.

Ever so slightly, Ron shook his head and the glint in his eyes vanished. Harry in the crowd had the smallest hint of a smile.

“For Merlin´s sake”, Ron muttered and his hand pushed back his ginger hair.

“I think that´s it.” Your tranquil voice didn´t help him at all, but it gave you the confirmation you had hoped for.

“No, I can get out of this.”

“I don´t think so.” Then you tilted your head to side, completely deserted. “Maybe, if you had gotten here on time.”

Ron´s green eyes pierced into yours, then back on the board. Oh, time could be a cruel opponent and right now, he was losing. He took another move, not wanting to admit it yet, but you sighed sounding bored and exhausted.

“It doesn´t work, I don´t have to use the Queen.”

It didn´t matter to him. This was now more and ever about his ego. “I´ll just cover it with the bishop and-“

“Move.” His voice was low and unlike his usual character, deadly serious. Harry had never seen his friend in such a situation and even though he found it alarming, what a terrible loser Ron was, he was happy for you. You deserved it.

You did as said, covering your queen, while his rook took one of your pawns. It didn´t help, all it was, was a desperate cry. Your rook moved right next to his King, which he placed further away, but then your queen came along.

“Do you see it now? Or should we finish this on the board?”

In disbelief, he shook his head once again. But this time, his eyes found yours in an amazing gaze. “For Merlin´s sake.”

The King was destroyed by the Queen. You had won.

The people around you echoed with applause and Ron clapped as well, gentle smiling.

It was useless denying it further, you had beaten him fair and square. Harry had been right, you were good and better than Ron.

He lifted himself off his seat and shook hands with you, a reassuring smile on his lips.

For the first time on this day, you could smile as well. All the worries and the lecture that lasted till late in the evening, had been worth it.

You defeated the state champion and you won the prize money.

 “Y/n?”

You had planned to go home, your mother would be enthusiastic about the money, but Ron´s voice held you back. You were outside in the hall, hand already on the railing to the staircase leading outside.

“Do you want to grab a butterbeer with me now?” He sensed your hesitation and quickly spoke up again. “Don´t worry, I´ll pay. I guess I owe it to you”, Ron shrugged and pushed his hands nervously deeper into the pockets of his brown pants. He looked different than when seated behind the chess board, taller but less comfortable as well.

“I´m not sure…”

“Come on, you can´t leave me hanging like this after taking my title.”

A small chuckle escaped your lips and Ron noticed how well it suited your face. While playing chess and debating over strategies, there wasn´t much time to give away polite smiles or studying your opponent’s traits.

You couldn´t help, but feel how the reluctance towards Ron disappeared. He sighed relieved as you nodded agreeing.

The bar was only a few streets away, a side alley and the entrance to the magical ambience was hidden. The door opened as the front side to a large dumpster and lead a few steps down into the pub. It was cozy and due to the early time on a Sunday afternoon, still fairly empty. The bartender nodded towards Ron, they seemed to know each other.

“Two butterbeers, Dean.”

Together you sat down in niche to the side, a few plants hung from the ceiling and blankets and pillows laid on the armchairs in between. Chill jazz music played in the background and a house elf washed up used glasses. You imagined how the room was filled with people in the evenings.

“So, you never played in a tournament before and yet you beat the state champion?”

Ron was curious, which was understandable and you blushed at his question.

“A friend of my mom taught me how to play chess.”

“Really? He must know a lot about it, I imagine.”

“Yeah, and he gave me many books about openings and strategies.”

“I never saw you playing in the school tournaments, when did you start?”

You avoided his glance, starring down at the butterbeer Dean just brought to your table. The yellowish, sweet smelling liquid with soft foam on top.

“I don´t play for a school team”, you admitted quietly. The topic was hard to avoid, but you didn´t have many friends anyways to talk to.

“Well, I think you should maybe start then. They often travel together to other tournaments and-“

“I´m actually not going to a public school, I´m home taught.” You voice was louder now, but still shaking enough for Ron to realize your indisposition. He maybe was a genius on the board, but construing social interactions? Not his strength. Awkwardly, he scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh.”

 An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you and you decided to take your first sip to take off your mind. He watched carefully, how your face enlightened with joy. “It´s really good!”

Ron kept his assumption, that it was your first butterbeer, to himself and smiled nodding.

“Dean knows how to make one of the bests around here”, he paused before continuing.

“I admire you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Everything I know about wizard chess, I learned in school from my teammates. Actually, everything I know, I was taught in Hogwarts. But now you come along and beat me, you´re brilliant Y/N.”

“I always liked chess, it´s a whole world on a simple board. I´m not as good in other things, trust me.” You admitted, but his compliment spread warmth around your heart.

“If you want, I could teach you a few things about magic.”

Maybe Ron Weasley wasn´t the best teacher, but he truly wanted to see you again. Something about you was so charismatic and mesmerizing, he couldn´t help himself. To his luck, excitement was shown in your face. “That sounds amazing!”

When you had finished your beers and left the pub, Ron faced you again. The two of you had talked for over an hour and he was beginning to like you more with each minute.

The thought of Ron teaching you more about magic, made you enthusiastic. Maybe it was also the fact, that seeing him again, brought a tickle in your stomach.

“Well, I see you next week, Queen.”

You chuckled at his new nickname for you, it was a pleasant flattery.

“We will see how good your gambit is when it comes to dueling.”

[willcwthewisp]

monkee see, monkee do | luce & willow

TIMING: before mother’s day. PARTIES:  @divineluce and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: two artists meet a new challenger. OH YEAH!

Washing her hands in the sink, Luce looked around at her cabin with a wistful sigh. She’d had a handful of tourists book it over the last few weeks, which was helpful. But, she missed living here. She missed quiet nights with Iggy, a fire in the grate, working on a new design or practicing some of her more precise manipulations of the flame. She missed the comfortable solitude of it all, back when she was… herself. Letting out a sigh, Luce locked up the cabin. But, instead of getting back into her Jeep, she went into the woods, following the familiar trails. She missed being able to just throw herself into the woods. But the forest wasn’t the same for her, not anymore. She’d destroyed it, burned it, had some angry spirit of the forest confront her with that fact. Maybe she’d go back to the grove she’d burnt down today. Check how it was.

As Luce moved deeper into the forest, the earth beneath her feet began to shift, becoming soft and loamy. Frowning, she glanced around and was startled to see-- “What the fuck..?” She said as a strangely animated looking river began to flow through the trees. Animated as in like, it looked as though a fucking 90’s Disney artist had drawn this shit. But the water soaking through her boots was very real. As was the scream that rang through the air.

One moment, Willow had been taking a solitary walk along the edge of White Crest’s Outskirts and the next she’d found herself careening down a watery pathway. The river had appeared out of seemingly nowhere, and the only warning she’d had of anything mysterious being afoot had been the sudden appearance of a cute, monkey looking creature. It had even been holding its tail between it’s little paws as if it were nervous or something of that like. She’d blinked, and next thing she’d known her clothes were wet, and she was sputtering amongst the throes of a gushing river. “Help!” she yelled out frantically. There was no reason for her to think that someone might hear her cries, but what else was there for her to do but seek assistance? The river wound its way downhill, and a nearly inhumane scream wrenched itself from her lips. “Help! I can’t- the river- it just-” For the brief moment her head was above water, she managed to make out a human shape along the banks of the water, and made her best effort to swim towards it. “The monkey! Where’s the monkey?!” Why she cared about a strange little monkey at a time like this, she couldn’t say.

As Luce watched the strangely textured water flow through the trees, she saw that there was a monkey creature, tapping its chin thoughtfully as it bobbed up and down on a flamingo inner tube that had the same dark lines as the water. “Fucking, of course. Saetimps.” She rolled her eyes before turning her attention to the woman who was yelling and trying to swim-- badly, it looked-- to the edge of the river. Gritting her teeth, Luce waded out into the water and held out her hand as far as she could reach, “C’mon, get over here! Before that thing whips out a shark or something.” She yelled. As she said that, she could practically feel the Saetimp’s eyes turn onto her and she watched to her dismay, as it drew a very Little Mermaid-esque looking shark that flopped into the water and began to swim towards them. “Shit, shit, shit, let’s go, dry land, right now!” She yelled, dragging the woman behind her as she pushed her way through the river back to the dry forest floor.

Willow grabbed for the other woman’s arm in desperation, clutching onto it as if it were her only lifeline in the world. For all she knew, it was. As she was yoinked from the river, her chest heaved with the effort of her panicked breaths, eyes almost impossibly wide as she watched the newly drawn shark circling beneath her and the other woman. “What’s wrong with it?” she nearly screeched, referring to the strangest monkey she’d encountered in her entire life. “Sharks aren’t even native to rivers!” she yelled, as if the Saetimp cared anything about that. “Or well- there’s a species of river shark but- that does not look like one of them!” Apparently the hell monkey took insult to this, and soon enough an accurate river shark had joined the other in the waters. But it didn’t matter anymore. Willow and the other girl had made it to dry land. “At least they can’t get us here,” the medium breathed, trying to catch her breath. “It’s not like they could grow legs or something.” Yet again, the Saetimp took this as a personal challenge, and in a blink of her eyes the sharks were suddenly crawling up the side of the bank, strange, arm-like legs protruding from their bodies as they crab-walked closer. “No!” Willow denied, as if she could forcefully put them back. “No! That’s not right! Go back!”

Holding on tight, Luce hauled the woman out of the animated rapids, shaking water from her face in an effort to get a clear look at just what was going on. The fucking Saetimp was watching them with that same stupid look on its face, tapping its paintbrush against the side of its inner tube. And when the woman spoke up, Luce’s eyes widened as the sharks began to sprout legs with hands attached to them. “You just had to fucking say something!” She said, glancing around them. The woods were thick with tree roots that made running nearly impossible. And the water, it was rising and rising. But, the Saetimp was still scratching its head as though it still didn’t like the scene it’d created. She’d seen that expression before-- not on a magic monkey before, but she’d seen it often enough. “Oh no! What would we do if there were attack hamsters!” She said, shouting the first thing that came to mind. Apparently, she’d spent too much time with Hamtarot, because that’s what came out. The Saetimp seemed just as confused as her, but suddenly the water was full of fuzzy creatures in mechanized hamster balls. The arm-legged sharks began to snap at the brightly colored hamster balls, distracted for a moment. “You got any other ideas?” She asked the woman.

“What?!” Willow exclaimed as the other woman spoke of hamsters, briefly looking towards her as if the unknowing savior had lost her mind. “Ideas? Why would I want to give it more ideas?” But as she watched she realized the hamsters had served a purpose, and the purpose was actually working out quite well for her and the brunette. “They...like the hamsters?” she asked with a nonplussed look on her face, beginning to connect the dots when it came to more things being drawn as a means of buying them time. “Oh...oh!” she began excitedly, trying to name the first thing that came to mind. “And if there were books with teeth? Ones that could chomp and crack hamster balls? That’d be really bad!” Sure enough the Saetimp began to draw just that, the books gnashing their way through the hamsters that were trying to make their way through the sharks. “Oh that’s...I mean they were a little cute, weren’t they?” she asked the woman standing next to her, suddenly feeling a little guilty for the little fuzzy creatures. 

Watching with dismay and irritation as half a dozen toothy books fell into the river, Luce watched as the animated little hamster balls began to sink in the waves. “No, don’t give it more weapons, Jesus.” But, it seemed as though it was working. The hamster balls were being crushed and the sharks were snarling, distracted by the fuzzy little creatures swimming around. Were they carrying tiny knives? Luce watched as one of the hamsters let out a tiny Rambo yell and launched itself at a leggy shark, stabbing twin bowie knives into the shark’s fin. “They’ve got tiny knives too. Wow. I mean, they’re cute if you like getting shanked?” Luce said, squinting at the very confusing fray. Meanwhile, the Saetimp had noticed that the chaos it had created had missed the mark-- it hadn’t killed either of them. Seeing the frustrated look on its face, Luce grasped at straws, “Oh boy, I’m so afraid of… the fucking… Kool-aid man! Yep! Super afraid of him. Boy, it’d be shitty if he popped up!” The Saetimp glared at her and for a moment, Luce was afraid that it’d just draw a pit with spikes in the bottom and she’d get turned into a kebab. But then, exploding out of the water with a loud “OH YEAH” was… the fucking Kool-aid Man. Looking over at the woman, Luce shrugged helplessly, “Listen, I didn’t hear any other better ideas. We can take the Kool-Aid man, right?”

Willow screamed as the Kool-Aid man himself popped out of the water, and her rampant telekinesis was quick to respond to the jump-scare of the century, even though she wasn’t realistically all that afraid of the oversized punch pitcher. One of the sharks was suddenly launched into the glass side of the Kool-Aid Man teeth first, leaving a shark-sized hole in its wake as red punch began to spill into the river. Sure— there’d been a couple of nightmares she’d had about him bursting through her wall as a kid and getting stuck in his big head of punch, but she was thirty-two now! She shouldn’t be afraid of the Kool-Aid Man. But he was just so big. Not to mention unpredictable. Nevertheless this felt like a victory for her four-year-old self. “Ah- if that’s what you meant by taking the Kool-Aid Man, sure!” Nevermind that it hadn’t exactly been intentional. What next? What else could they make this thing draw? Or maybe...what was the thing artists hated most? Ignorant critique, wasn’t it? Unfortunately Willow’s mean streak was about a centimeter wide, but that didn’t stop her from doing her best to frustrate the Saetimp. “You call- you call that a Kool-Aid Man?” she tried to goad despite her stammering. “My grandma could draw a better one!” She could have sworn the monkey turned a shade that was almost as red as the pitcher it had drawn, and in an instant it was trying to pop out another, better one.

Flinching at the loud shriek, Luce glanced over at the woman for a moment before a loud shattering sound filled the air. What the fuck? Had that shark just been yeeted through the Kool-Aid Man? What the fuck? Luce stared back at the woman-- was she some kind of psychic? Or, fuck, hadn’t Peanut done something like that before? A medium? Whatever, it didn’t really matter. As the woman yelled at the Saetimp, Luce rolled her eyes. At least the creature wasn’t bright, because it took the bait hook line and sinker. “Yeah, look at those lines! They’re so thick and wobbly, I wouldn’t even want that hanging up on my fridge!” She said, gesturing to the shattered Kool-Aid Man that was thrashing in the water, now being devoured by sharks. The river was still flowing through and the Saetimp was steadily being taken down stream, but she wanted this thing gone. “I bet you couldn’t draw anything with real detail. Like-- Like a yacht! You wouldn’t even know where the sails go!” Did yachts have sails? Who fucking knew, but Luce had a feeling the Saetimp sure didn’t.  

Willow laughed despite herself, the mental image of the mess of drawings on a fridge tipping her over the edge when it came to finding humor is as ridiculous a situation as this. And Luce had been right about the Saetimp’s lack of nautical knowledge. Even now it was drawing some sails attached to the smokestacks of a very strange looking yacht. “That’s not where the sails go!” Willow called out, trying to figure out how they might tangle this Saetimp in its own drawings. Would it just...get tired after a while or something? “Plus it needs bigger sails! Sails as tall as the trees!” Willow’s arms raised above her head as if she could personally model how tall a tree was. After all, it was a part of her namesake. “A big willow tree with lots of branches and birds, and- and monkeys!” Maybe a self-portrait would send the creature into a downwards shame spiral. 

It seemed like the Saetimp was at its last wits, creative juices sputtering out as it muddled its way through adding an absolutely atrocious willow tree, with lumpy, ugly monkeys with their hands fused to its branches. “Jesus fucking christ, that’s horrifying.” Luce muttered as she watched the potato shaped monkeys screamed angrily at them from the deck of the yacht/steamboat/pirate ship that was sailing down the river. Just as she was about to wrack her brains for more ideas to feed the Saetimp, she watched as the creature threw its paintbrush down in disgust and stamped its foot on the deck of the yacht. As it did so, the yacht continued to sail down the river, lumpy looking monkeys screeching as the boat disappeared from view. Luce sank to the ground and let out a long sigh. “Good fucking christ.” She said, wringing out her water logged clothes. “You good?”

Willow looked at the abomination of a creation in slight wonder, head tilted in interest as she tried to make sense of what the monkey had drawn. As she watched the monkeys with their hands stuck to the tree she felt a small stab of guilt in her gut. They weren’t...real monkeys in the way a normal one would be right? They wouldn’t actually suffer while being trapped against the tree? But at least the head monkey was gone, and the two girls could finally have peace. Except… “Isn’t the monkey and everything just going to run into someone else down the river?” Nevertheless, she settled herself onto the ground as well, suddenly tired after swimming in the currents of the river. “Um- I’m fine. Are you?” Now that the monkey was gone, she could recover decently well, instead of letting her panic overtake her. “Thank you though- for helping me. I’d probably still be going down the river if it wasn’t for you.” Willow’s doe-eyed gaze filled with gratitude as she finally took in the other girl, trying to figure out why she looked somewhat familiar.

“It might. But, I have a feeling that guy’s gonna be tired out enough after making all of that. He’ll probably pass out in a hammock somewhere.” Luce said as she squeezed water from the ends of her hair. She was really only guessing; she’d never really interacted with Saetimps before. Most of what she knew about them came from her general interest in the strange Fae when she was younger. But, she’d never really looked for them around town. “Just peachy.” Luce replied as she stood up, her clothes damp and uncomfortable against her warm skin. “No problem.” Luce said slowly, a bit caught off guard by the way that the other woman was staring at her. What, did the Saetimp draw something on her face? “I’m Luce, by the way.” She said with a nod.

“I hope so…” Willow trailed off, trying not to think too hard about the future harm the strange monkey could bring to people. It wasn’t as if she could do anything about it, anyway. She was no hunter, and she wasn’t sure she had the stomach to sign something’s death warrant anyway. Willow made her own efforts to get the water off her clothes, still disappointedly wet and dripping by the time she was finished. Shaking her hands with a sigh, she tried to look at the bright side of the situation. At least they were...in one piece? The girl's name finally struck the bell that had been faintly ringing in Willow’s head, and recognition lit her eyes. “Bea’s your sister, right?” She chose the phrasing carefully, knowing how annoying it was when people asked if she was Forest’s sister and not the other way around. “I was friends with her for a while until…” Forest had made a mess of things. “Well- it doesn’t matter, I just knew her. But really- thank you for helping me,” she repeated, already thinking about the pile of blankets she wanted to tunnel under one she got home.

At the mention of her sister, Luce’s eyes narrowed slightly-- not as harshly as they might have a year ago, but she was confused all the same. “Yeah. She is.” Luce said with a slow nod, now eying the woman with earnest. Blonde, honestly pretty basic looking, about Bea’s age. Which made sense if she said that they were friends for a bit. A girl on the cheer team? No, that couldn’t be it. Luce would have known her-- she’d “reluctantly” waited on the sidelines during Bea’s many cheer practices. She recognized most of the girls who’d been on the team back then, the result of stealing glances up over her sketchbook. But, this girl definitely wasn’t one of them. Hm-- “Hang on. You’re Willow, right? Fo--” Forest’s sister, she almost said, but caught herself quickly, “Finch. Willow Finch. You had that art studio in town.” She said, remembering how envious she’d been when the place had first opened.

Curiosity tempered slightly by how reluctant Willow seemed, Luce nodded again, “No problem.” She repeated. “I’ve dealt with worse out here.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “I have a cabin up here. Do you… want to borrow a towel or something?” She asked belatedly, realizing she probably should have offered sooner. 

Willow shifted uncertainly under Luce’s gaze, not entirely certain what it was the other woman was looking for until she finally came up with the medium’s name. “Oh- yes! I’m Willow,” she realized sheepishly that she’d forgotten to give her name in return when Luce had offered her own. “Sorry- I guess I just got caught up in recognizing you.” For a moment Willow brightened at the mention of her studio, but an instant later the gleam had dulled into disappointment and regret as she nodded confirmation. “Yes- the one that closed a few months ago. It was the one with the gallery in the front, and then I had my studio in the back.” But that was long gone, a dream broken just like she’d broken that man’s arm. She was curious about Luce’s reasoning for asking after the gallery, but decided that was a conversation that could wait for when they were both nicely dry. 

A vigorous shake of Willow’s head served as her initial answer to Luce’s invitation, already feeling rather squirrly the longer she stood here with Luce, accurately aware of all the things that could go wrong if her telekinesis decided to flex its muscles. “Oh no- no, thank you. I mean thank you, but I really should go home.”

“Yeah. I just said that.” Luce nodded, a bit of her old sense of humor trickling back into her tone as she regarded the woman. “And don’t worry. Not a lot of people from high school recognize me.” She said with a shrug. She’d always been quiet in school and, outside of a few people she was friendly with in her art classes, no one remembered her as anything other than “Bea Vural’s younger sister.” A lot of people didn’t put together the fact that the moody girl who doodled in the back of class was now a heavily tattooed artist at Ink Inc. “It’s a bummer it closed down. I wanted to take a look at the gallery but,” Life went off the rails for the past year, “I never got the chance. Sucks, though.” She said offhandedly.

The amount of nervous energy coming off Willow was really something else-- Luce was distinctly reminded of the shivery looking Chihuahua on the old Taco Bell commercials. Raising an eyebrow, Luce raised her hands in surrender. “Suit yourself. Stay safe out there.” She said before heading back in the direction of her cabin, boots squishing noisily as she walked. It just had to draw up a river, didn’t it? Fucking Saetimps. 

Willow was trying to make sense of whether or not Luce was joking with a tired mind, deciding to play it safe and simply shoot the other girl a tentative smile. “I don’t think we actually went to highschool together. Just missed each other or something like that. And um- well it’s been a while, right?” She didn’t want the other girl thinking she’d been unmemorable or something as depressing as that, and she vaguely remembered Bea saying something about how Luce would be entering her freshman year once Willow graduated all those years ago. “Or...Bea is Luce’s older sister?” Willow tried to offer kindly with a gentle hint of a joke, knowing how frustrating it could be to only be known by a sibling’s name at times. A sigh of relief escaped Willow when Luce didn’t push the subject of the cabin, and she too began her trek home. “Thanks- you too!” At least the only things she’s thrown today were badly drawn sharks.

[taz-writes]

Introduction to Nymia/Colorverse

I mentioned making a post about that other secondary storyverse the other day, right? Well, here it is! (Fair warning, this is less of an active WIP than a concept I like to play with—I probably won’t create any finished product for this world for a WHILE. It’s more of a creative sandbox than a proper novel-in-the-making.)

TLDR; magical girls/boys in a fantastical 1800s steampunk-adjacent setting work together (with varying levels of success) to right the wrongs of the world they live in. Although they were all trained together for a few years in their early teens, it’s been a while since they’ve reunited, and they’ll have to contend with challenging geography, a generations-long war, and their own clashing ideologies before they’ll be able to start figuring out what the problem is. The whole thing’s 90% driven by my love of dramatic irony and secret identities.

Genre-wise, this is another fantasy, but it has a very different flavor from Feilan. It’s also a bit more mature in general, straddling the YA/NA line because of the ages of the protagonists. The timeline flipflops and some scenes are set during the squad’s Academy days as young teenagers, but the real plot happens when they’re in their early 20s. I wouldn’t say this is darker--Feilan gets super fucked up in places--but it’s probably going to feel a little less optimistic, and there are more shades of grey. 

The Colors

Regardless of where in Nymia one hails from, everyone knows of the colors. You may know them as gods, or archetypes, or spirits, or ancestors, but their influence is ever-present and ever-powerful regardless.

The colors are manifestations of human symbolism and belief. They began as formless congregations of a natural energy that flows throughout the planet, and as early humans developed civilization and encountered them, they began to take on the traits of certain colors in the spectrum of light. They are influenced by humanity, and influence humanity in turn—more like primal forces of nature than thinking, feeling beings. Despite this, though, they have clear wills of their own and personalities. They’re sort of... human-adjacent, but ultimately something greater. Human mages are able to draw on the powers of the colors and cast magic based on their color of choice!

The precise meanings and powers of the colors vary by the culture and social class of the believer, but they are worshipped across Nymia, and plenty of patterns pop up. Unfortunately, most of Nymia doesn’t get along—of the four realms consisting the continent, two have been at war for generations, and the remaining two are somewhat isolated from both the warring countries and each other.

Each generation, the colors choose humans to wield their powers and enact their will to encourage peace and balance throughout the realms. These humans are called the Paladins. They’re not very well-known, though, because the last few generations of paladins were not strong enough to make a significant difference or achieve much of anything. This generation, those paladins are our protagonists! Which brings me to...

The Characters

This storyverse is WAY more character-driven than my other WIP, which is why I keep dodging around it and hiding from a plot, but the characters are the best thing I’ve got going here. I won’t beat around the bush, just introduce them.

Talxin Zatruc is the Paladin of Red! He’s really short, he barely hits 5’3”, but there’s a lot of intensity packed into that petite form. Red is the color of plague, poison, decay, and death. As such, they tend to be vilified in most places, and redmages aren’t winning any popularity contests. To Talxin, though, red means something else. He was raised dirt-poor in the country by parents trapped in Elcrin’s broken legal system, and to them, red is the color of justice. All things are equal in death, after all. His red magic isn’t limited to just killing people. He’s not a very trusting person, and he tends to stammer a lot and bow out of conflict, but there’s a core of steel under his surface. He’ll cross any line if it means achieving a better world. He’s like, my way of protesting about how badass Anakin Skywalker could’ve been if the Star Wars writers gave a shit.

Syzyga Lazuli is not in fact associated with the color blue! She’s the Paladin of Orange, who represents exploration, navigation, innovation, and human ingenuity. In her native country of Kelrie, she’s in constant demand fixing trade ships and assisting mapmakers, but her true passion lies elsewhere. Syz is an avid inventor, constantly creating new ways to make the world a better and more exciting place. Remember Master Builders from the LEGO movie? That’s basically what Syz’s orange magic does, it’s pretty cool. One of her trickiest creations is the wired mechanical “exoskeleton” she wears on her arms (cooler name pending), which compensates for an extreme hypermobility disorder she’s dealt with since childhood. Her ultimate dream is to create a functional flying machine—something that many orangemages have attempted, but none have succeeded in so far. She likes pointy things, stargazing, and using said hypermobile hands to occasionally one-up Nyrene’s attempts to freak people out.

Soenya Arrenya is the Paladin of Yellow. The emoticon :} is an accurate summary of her personality. Yellow is associated with weather and natural disasters as a trickster archetype, but they are also a patron of underdogs and comedians. They’re one of those archetypes whose interpretations vary wildly by location. Soenya hails from a remote town in the northern Sapiran tundra, the kind of place where ice tornadoes are things that exist, and her notion of practicality is... we’ll just say, it’s a bit different from the city-dwellers’. She doesn’t have much concept of property damage (or property). She’s really flirtatious and will hit on just about anyone, which embarrasses her colleagues sometimes, to the point where most of the other paladins figure she’s just doing it to mess with them. She and Nyrene do NOT get along.

Darrus Colere is the Paladin of DICK MAGIC Green, and I did NOT draw him buff enough in this picture. He needs to be like twice as buff and twice as Big. He’s almost 6’4” and deserves to be built like an Olympic deadlifter. Green is associated with healing, plant life, fertility, and sexuality. They’re one of the only two colors ever given a gender, as in Sapir Green also represents masculinity. Darrus is valid to fuck. Unfortunately he’s also easily flustered and a little bit dense, he tends to get strange ideas in his head and it takes a LOT of pushing to redirect him. He’s got inertia. Darrus cares more about plants than most people, he will run after you crying if you step on “his” grass. He and Talxin shared a room at the Academy as baby 13-year-olds and they’d fight constantly because Talxin kept accidentally killing Darrus’s houseplants with poorly-controlled red magic. Also, he’s genuinely terrified of Talxin, which in terms of sheer physicality is hilarious. At his core, he’s a very caring person! He expresses affection by lecturing people on your behalf. It’s kind of sweet. He’s from Kelrie like Syz, but the other side of the country.

Anlied Atidae is the elusive Paladin of Blue. Raised in the upper echelons of Sapiran society, she’s still grappling with the extremely repressed behavior she was raised to exhibit, but even behind her veil of mystery she’s a strange and deeply thoughtful individual. Blue is the archetype of thought, philosophy, emotion, and the human mind. In Sapir, Blue represents femininity. Although private, Anlied is very sincere in her desire to help others. Her life of privilege and nobility tends to blind her to the reality she lives in, though, and even as an adult she is very naive. She’s all about the conceptual thought exercise of fixing the world but stalls short in horror when presented with an actual problem. Despite using magic that specializes in emotion and the mind, she has very little awareness and understanding of her own emotional experience. Rationality is prized above all else in Sapiran society, particularly in the noble circles Anlied grew up in, and it is considered taboo to express any kind of emotion outside of a Blue temple. As emotions are sacred to Blue, they should be shown to Blue alone. Some Sapiran royals will even veil their faces in blue fabric as the ultimate expression of non-expression. This culture.... this culture seriously messed with Anlied’s head.

Nyrene Enkeli is the Paladin of Purple and the team’s most infamous wildcard. She’s tall, skinny, pointy, and an avatar of mayhem—literally. Purple is, among other things, the archetype of chaos. They also represent cycles, wisdom, and the passage of time. Nyrene really likes knocking people off-guard, and can produce an impressive variety of disturbing noises. She also swallows swords, spits fire, and juggles like a fiend. She’s the sole representative among the paladins of Nemmonay—an elusive free state off the coast of Kelrie that shelters pirates, outlaws, and a dozen other criminal elements holding each other together in a perilous state of organized anarchy. Nyrene is the embodiment of that trope where a character has to remove all their weapons, and holds up the line for 20 minutes picking tiny knives out of their hair and bootsoles. Upon first glance, she seems like she’s totally off her rocker. She says weird stuff that doesn’t make sense, and does weird stuff for shock value alone, and generally moves like a cat that’s seen a ghost in the corner. What she really is, though, is a bona fide genius. Nyrene’s purple magic allows her to travel through time to a certain extent, and she’s often balancing two or more perfect loops at once, with some really bizarre caveats added to make sure the streams don’t cross. She has a lot of ulterior motives. She considers Syzyga her best friend, because Syzyga is the only person who hasn’t panicked at the sight of spontaneous sword-swallowing. She really doesn’t get along well with Soenya.

Pariya Spinel is the current Paladin of Pink, though she wasn’t the first in this generation. The OG pink paladin turned out to be such an unspeakably awful person that Pink themself appeared to strip her of her status. Pariya joined the group late and didn’t have much time to get to know the others, which she’s rather self-conscious about, but pretty much everyone likes her. She doesn’t have too much to worry about. Pink is a tricky archetype to pin down. They’re associated with creation, they’re the pantheon leader, and they have symbolic ties to space and the heavens. In practice, this means Pariya has the power to create things like energy constructs or even just simple objects. It’s a difficult and tiring power to use but has the potential to be super broken. Pariya isn’t very good with her magic, and she’s extremely anxious and self-conscious about it, to the point where her nerves may be preventing her from doing much of anything at all. She’ll get there, one day...

So, yeah! That’s the squad! Not pictured is Rovato, whom I’ve mentioned briefly on this blog before—he’s the main antagonist in this universe. He’s a paladin of Silver. Silver used to be part of the pantheon, once upon a time, but they’ve been forgotten over the last few generations for an assortment of reasons. Most of those reasons have to do with Rovato. As purple represents chaos, silver represents order, and the exertion of will upon the whims of the natural world. Silver once had different aspects in the same way the other colors do, and in Sapir they actually represented change and manipulation—this is the aspect Rovato exploits. He’s used some loopholes in the magic system to make himself into a near-immortal shapeshifter and he wants power and stuff. I’m still working out the plot, so this could change, but that’s what I have right now. 

The general backstory is that the Paladins were gathered together by the elusive headmaster of the Academy, a school on an unclaimed island meant specifically to train each generation’s set of paladins and prepare them to bring peace to the world. While at the Academy, they were not allowed to share their real names or anything about their origins, so that they couldn’t judge each other for their differences and stuff. The paladins are spread across the continent to represent all four realms and every end of the class spectrum and the whole point of the team is to encourage unity. Can’t have them being racist at each other! Unfortunately, the status quo of the war between Sapir and Elcrin shifted dramatically during their third year at school, and they were sent back home before being allowed to learn each other’s names and origins and all that stuff. Now, approximately five or six years after the Academy disbanded, something is happening that can only be resolved by the paladins themselves. So now they have to get the team back together, and seek each other out across national borders and geographic obstacles and LOTS of weird culture clash. I’m still working on figuring out what’s happening. Like I said, the plot’s a work in progress.

And that’s that! I don’t know how much I’ll talk about these guys here, since the colorverse story has been on my back burner for a LOOOOONG time, and I still want to get through Feilan in the next century. But I wanted to introduce them, so I could talk about them without confusing literally everyone. They’re my second-oldest set of OCs after the fairies and I care about them quite a lot. 

[peteparkersgirl]

Dancing With A Stranger

This is my first Peter Parker x Reader piece. I’d really love your feedback! Should I write a part two? Also the reader and Peter are in University.

Y/N sighed, leaning herself back against the edge of the doorframe, a plastic red cup in hand, her eyes gazing out along the picturesque back garden. The sky was a stunning pink and orange colour, the colours mixing into one as the sun lowered in the sky.

The music was loud, the vibrations pulsing through her body and vibrating her chest. She was surrounded by an energetic group of young people, most of them enjoying themselves, some a little too much.

Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes, watching from the corner of her eye as Dylan, a stuck up jock from the football team held a girl in his arms and pushed her up against the kitchen table, practically ready to bounce on her as his lips captured hers.

Y/N was only here at this party because her best friend Rachel begged her to go.

“Oh please Y/N! I’m begging you! Carter is going to be there and he said he’d love to see me there and then winked at me! I can’t go on my own!”

“You won’t be on your own because you’ll ditch me and hang out with Carter for most of the night! I’m really not feeling up for it...I’ve got exams coming up, I need to finish this huge assignment for my Media module..” You sighed, running a stressed hand through your hair. “You won’t even miss me..”

“Oh Come on Y/N! When you’re 90 years old, what are you going to remember? That media assignment or that fantastic party you enjoyed yourself at?” Rachel huffed, pushing her hands on her hips, tilting her head at you with a raised eyebrow.

You narrowed your eyes at her, tucking your lip underneath your teeth. “Fine! But I’m only staying until you hook up with Carter and then I’m gone..”

“Good! Because you need to get your mind off of that stupid Peter Parker guy..”

To be quite honest, Y/N really didn’t want to be here. Party’s weren’t her scene and now that Rachel had hooked up with Carter, she really should be going, but the alcohol was really starting to ease out the pain that she was feeling on the inside.

Unknown to everyone here, this was a really tough week for Y/N. Apart from the stress of college exams and assignments, Y/N’s heart was shattered.

Peter Parker had made a total mess of Y/N L/N.

Peter Parker was the Captain of the football team in RiverValley University. Not only was he an exceptional star football player but he was also incredibly handsome. His eyes were brown chocolate pools, his chestnut brown hair was always quiffed back and he was also extremely toned and always kept himself fit by training with the football team 3-4 times a week and even going to the gym at the same time.

Peter was also known to be a real flirt. He was a real ladies man. He knew exactly what to say to have the girls falling at his feet. Not that he needed to say anything, since all the girls were already swooning at the sight of him.

Y/N was only aware of Peter Parker through going to the football games for her journalism course; but of course she heard what girls said about him.

“He’s honestly the best snog I’ve ever had.”

“I can’t believe Peter Parker never called me back! The cheeky bastard was gone by the time I woke up!”

“Did you hear he slept with Lucinda’s best friend literally the night they broke up?”

“He’s such a dick, all he does is get in your pants and then breaks your heart!”

She couldn’t deny it though, Peter Parker was fit. There was something very intriguing about him, she had to admit..maybe it was his dark chocolate brown eyes..or maybe his biceps that he would alway flex throughout the game..or maybe it was the fact that he was the star team player on the football team that really..there was just something about Peter Parker that she just liked..she couldn’t help herself. He was charming, he was sweet, and from what she heard through some of guys in the library, he was also quite intelligent.

He was the guy girls wanted to sleep with and he was the guy that all guys on campus wanted to be.

Taking a seat on the bleachers Y/N slipped out her camera along with her colorful spotted notebook. The buzz among the crowd was pretty unreal. Students had beers in one hand, a bag of chips in the other, a lot of the guys had red painted stripes across their cheeks, while some guys had even gone as far as to paint the university logo across their chests in support of the soccer team.

Y/N had to admit, she was feeling nervous herself This was a big game, the final of the season.

Glancing down at her notebook she started to jot down notes about the atmosphere, the crowd, which key players would be taking part in the game, suddenly the sunlight was blocked by a tall figure, knitting her eyebrows together in confusion, she glanced up at the brown eyed boy, a confident smirk plastered across his face.

“Hey, you’re Y/N L/N, right?” He smirked, taking a seat beside her. Y/N turned to face him, raising an eyebrow.

“Why do you ask?” She hummed, her eyes drifting up and down at his appearance.

“Well aren’t you a pretty sight for sore eyes..” he grinned, his biceps flexing as he combed a hand through his hair, his eyes drifting up and down her appearance.

Y/N’s long hair/color drifting down her shoulders into loose ringlet curls, her face glowing and being illuminated from the setting sun. Peter was truly in awe at the beauty in from him.

Y/N scoffed slightly, folding her arms across her chest. “What a line.” She laughed, her smile illuminating her features.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready with the others?” She nodded down the field, watching the other football players doing jumping squats, jogging on the spot and stretching out their muscles for the big game.

“Don’t worry about me sweetheart..I’ll be fine..As a matter of fact, you write for the university paper, right?” Peter smiled, pointing down at the last issues university paper on her lap. “Put this in your notebook, I’m going to win the game and I’ll score the winning goal just for you..and when I do..you’ll let me take you out..”

Y/N could feel the glare of envious girls starring into the back of her head. She could feel her cheeks starting to heat up ever so slightly.

“Come on..if you say no I’ll lose the game..you don’t want that do you?” He sighed, widening his eyes to look like puppy dog eyes as his fingers grazed her cheek bone before gently pushing back Y/N’s hair behind your ear.

“Where’s all of this coming from Parker? You don’t even know me..” Y/N laughed, feeling herself melt underneath his warm touch.

“I always see you at my games..I see you around campus..and I’ve read your articles in the paper..You just really..You just really intrigue me L/N..I’ve heard some pretty cool things about you..” Peter hummed, his thumb dragging down across Y/N’s cheekbone, drawing small circles across her skin.

Y/N could hear the envious whispers of the girls surrounding her, wishing they were the ones being swooned over.

“Oh really? Like what?” She laughed, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Well for one I know you write for the university paper..you write exceptional articles about yours truly..” he grinned confidently as he motioned to himself, “I’ve heard that you’re ambitious ..passionate...” He spoke, his tone of voice soft and low, his fingers grazing from her cheek bone, down to her shoulder, his fingers slowly drawing down her arm and to her hand, grabbing hold of it.

“Hmm..It doesn’t sound like you’ve heard too much about me...Mhmm..I don’t know Parker..I’ve heard things about you too..” Y/N whispered, her eyes glazing over Peters features.

Peter chuckled deeply, a playful grin on his face. “Enlighten me.“

“Well..I’ve heard that you’re an insensitive jerk who just likes to sleep with anything that breathes..” Y/N answered, a questioning smile on her lips.

Peter chuckled, his chest vibrating as he did so, a mischievous look painted across his features.

“But you see..” Peter smirked, cupping Y/N’s chin between his thumb and index finger. “You can’t say those things are true because like you said..I barely know you and you barely know me..so why don’t you just say yes and we can get to know each other?”

Y/N nervously tucked her lip underneath her teeth, she could feel her heart accelerating from the charming words dripping from Peters tongue.

What harm could it do? Y/N is a big girl, she can look after yourself.

“Only if you win the game Parker.” Y/N smiled, her cheeks glowing pink as Peter took hold of both her hands, pressing his lips against the back of them.

From that moment onwards, Y/N was hooked. She discovered that Peter wasn’t that much of an ‘insensitive jerk’ that the girls on campus said he was.

Peter was Peter. He had this cool, confident character that he would play out to be on campus, but behind closed doors, Peter was different.

He was Y/N’s Peter. He was caring, passionate, gentle, loving. When Peter was around Y/N, he was his true self.

From that night of the football match, Peter and Y/N were hooked on one other. They would meet after class, they’d meet during lunch breaks, Y/N would meet Peter after practice. Y/N couldn’t believe that she used to listen to those petty rumors. Peter was amazing. In fact, he was perfect.

Lately though, their relationship started to show some cracks. Peter started showing up late to dates to eventually not showing up at all. Sometimes he seemed to be even more interested in his phone than her. Thing always seemed to come up and in between the pair that their relationship was now like what the pair were in the beginning; strangers.

“I can’t do this anymore Pete..you’re barely here anymore, you never answer my calls or texts..when we are out you just disappear and leave me on my own..things have been different between us..I think we need a break from whatever this is that we have..” Y/N cried, her voice strained, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“No..No Y/N please..” Peter frowned, his eyes beginning to water as his face shaded white with shock.

“I’m sorry..” Y/N sobbed, her heart shattering into pieces as she ran out of Peters dorm room, running out of the building and back to her own dorm room.

Leaving behind her broken heart in the hands of a broken hearted Peter Parker.

And that’s how Y/N ended up here at this party, a red cup in hand filled with a mixture of different kinds of alcohol, her eyes brimming with the tears at the thought of Peter Parker.

Rachel hooked up with Carter about forty five minutes ago but Y/N just couldn’t seem to leave. She needed this. She didn’t know just how badly she needed this party to loosen her up, to take her mind off of everyone and everything, especially him.

Suddenly Y/N was drawn from her train of thought when a pair of cool finger tips grazed over her skin, jolting her back to reality.

Y/N turned to face the notorious Flash, her eyes rolling at the sight of him.

Flash was another key player on the football team. Although he was an excellent player, he was a real asshole. Y/N seen him around campus a lot of the time, a different girl always by his side every day and a new girl after every practice at the end of the day. Y/N also witnessed him being ignorant and rude to a lot of the nice guys here on campus, beating them up for money, beating them up for even just glancing at him. Y/N wasn’t really his biggest fan.

“What are you doing on your own pretty girl?” Flash smirked, his hand landing on Y/N’s waist.

“Getting another drink.” Y/N replied curtly, a tight smile on her face as she released herself from his grip, walking over to the drinks table.

“Come on Y/N, don’t be like that. Come dance with me..” Flash hummed, pulling hold of Y/N’s hand and dragging her into the makeshift dance floor.

“No Flash, I really don’t want to..” Y/N sighed, pulling back from Flash’s grip and tipsily falling back into another body that caught her before she fell to the floor.

“Oh gosh...I’m really so sorry..” Y/N gasped, her body turning to face the person she fell back into.

Y/N felt the world stand still and stop. She could feel her breath caught in her throat and her heart rate increasing.

“Peter..”

[blue-collects-things]

i would really love a reddie oneshot where they practice kissing and it's just cute and fluffy!!

Five Times Richie Kisses Eddie and One Time He Doesn’t Have To

Eddie Kaspbrak x Richie Tozier

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: swearing, a very slight panic attack, a little bit of angst because our losers have issues they’re going through (but mostly fluff)

Author’s Note: I’m back!!! Thought you could get rid of me? Not that easily. I plan to get back into writing by finishing up some requests that I’ve gotten during my hiatus before picking back up with YWISC and some of my other original ideas, so keep an eye out for them! Anywho, I absolutely adore 5+1 fanfics and your prompt was perfect for it, nonnie. I don’t know if it’s exactly what you want because I threw in a little itty bit of angst, but I still enjoyed rereading it while editing. Also, I know that Frogger wasn’t out until the 80s. So let’s just do a little time jumping and act like this takes place during the movie timeline. That means that The losers are going to graduate in the 90s. Enjoy!

Read it on ao3

i.

The first time Richie kisses Eddie, it happens to be on a sunny Thursday afternoon in March.

“Truth or dare, Eddie,” Ben says from across the circle. Currently, all seven of the losers are in the Barrens, spending a much needed day off from their senior year together. They sit cross-legged, knee to knee, in the midst of the grass, talking and playing games. However, when Bev had suggested they play truth or dare, Eddie was less than thrilled. But Richie dragged him down in the circle and forced him to play. It’s not that he’s embarrassed to admit something to his friends, it’s how close in proximity Richie is to him. It makes him feel the need to keep his hand tightly grasped around his inhaler just in case his lungs suddenly decide to give out.

“Truth,” Eddie blurts without thinking. Good job, numb nuts, he thinks to himself. Now you’ll for sure be embarrassed.

Ben, being the sweet person he is, can’t think of anything truly embarrassing to ask Eddie. Or anyone for that matter. So he simply says, “Who was your first kiss with?”

Eddie’s eyes widen so that his whole iris can be seen. He actually does begin to panic a little. He brings the inhaler to his mouth to take a puff, but thinks better of it.

“C-c’mon, Eddie,” Bill says from the other side of Richie. “It c-c-can’t be th-that ba-had.”

Eddie draws in a shaky breath and looks up to the sky to avoid eye contact with anyone. “I’ve never actually, you know, kissed anyone before?” It comes out as a question even though he’s entirely certain of the fact. He expects teasing in any and all forms, but none comes.

But Richie does say, “Wait, really?”

It’s a valid question, but it causes Eddie to get angry. “No, Rich. You’re on fucking Candid Camera. There’s a hidden camera over there.” He points off towards one of the bushes in the area, but nobody looks. He rolls his eyes and stands from the ground, brushing off his jeans. He has to consciously keep himself from running from his friends. He hears Mike and Stan shouting at the rest of the group things like “Good job” and “Way to fucking go.” He gets all the way to Kansas Street and his bike before he hears someone coming after him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Eds,” Richie says, cresting the hill. He bends over, hands on his knees to catch his breath. “For a little guy, you sure move fast.”

Eddie works his bike out from the heap the losers made with their bikes. “I’m aerodynamic,” he says sarcastically. “And don’t call me that.” He finally gets his bike out and he starts to push it away when Richie grabs his wrist.

“Hold on,” he says, face completely serious. “Why did you run?”

“I didn’t want to get made fun of. I know everyone else down there has had their first kiss and it just sucked,” Eddie responds quietly.

They are both silent for a while. Finally, Richie speaks up: “You must think we’re pretty shitty friends.”

“What?” Eddie asks, thoroughly confused. “Of course not.”

“Then why would you think we’d make fun of you for something as trivial as a kiss?” Richie responds. He takes a step closer to Eddie and puts his hand on the handlebar of his bike. Their fingers end up overlapping and Eddie feels like he actually can’t breathe. “I could- I could teach you.”

Eddie’s head snaps up at break-neck speed. “What?” he asks again stupidly.

“I could teach you to, um, how to kiss,” Richie says. Eddie almost doesn’t believe his eyes when Richie turns the exact same shade of red as the tomatoes in his mother’s garden.

“You would do that? Is this some kind of joke?” Eddie is suddenly on the defensive. Typical Richie, he thinks, always trying to pull a fast one.

“What? No. I’m being serious,” Richie responds, the honesty in his voice making Eddie shiver. “Just close your eyes. I’ll do the first one.”

Eddie does as told and shuts his eyes. He can feel his heartbeat everywhere. His fingertips, his ears, his nose, even his knees. He senses Richie getting closer and he thinks his lungs actually will stop working. After all this time of harboring a crush on his best friend, it was finally going somewhere. Even though that somewhere was “kissing lessons” because Richie felt bad for Eddie. He felt Richie’s breath on his lips just before the distance was closed.

His first kiss was… awkward to say the least. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he kept them firmly planted on his handlebars. All he did know was to keep his eyes closed, so he did. The kiss was essentially Richie touching Eddie’s lips with his own and holding them there for a few seconds. Regardless of how strange and how short it was, Eddie walked away from the Barrens with a dopey smile etched onto his face.

ii.

The second time Richie kisses Eddie happens only a day later.

All seven losers plus Mike’s boyfriend Sam are gathered around the TV in Eddie’s living room after school watching movies that Bev rented. He, Richie, and Stan take up the couch. Mike and Sam are squished into the large chair that Eddie’s mother usually inhabits. Bev, Ben, and Bill sit on the floor in front of the couch, Bill leaning against Stan’s legs. Snack bowls and drink cans were strewn about the room even though they had yet to start a movie.

The first one Bev picked was one called Dial M for Murder. The movie doesn’t sit well with Eddie. He watches on in muted discomfort as a man plots to kill his wife but doesn’t succeed. Eddie absently grabs at Richie’s arm when the man’s hired murderer gets stabbed with a pair of scissors. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Richie look at him with amusement.

The second movie is House on Haunted Hill. Eddie recognizes the main character is played by Vincent Prince. He was the actor who starred in House of Wax, a movie his cousin had forced him to watch that scarred him for life. He can only feel gratitude for Sam as he makes comments throughout the whole thing about how every special effect was done. He buries his head in Richie’s shoulder so he doesn’t have to look at the body of a wealthy woman dangling from the ceiling. Richie shifts so that Eddie can comfortably hide without craning his neck.

Lastly, and most out of character for Bev, she chose Singin’ in the Rain. This is a movie Eddie can get behind. All of his friends laugh and even sing along sometimes. In the last scene, he watches as Debbie Reynolds and Gene Kelly himself share a kiss in front of the sign advertising their film.

After three consecutive movies, Ben and Stan decide to call for pizza. Bev and Bill race for the bathroom, Bev claiming that her “lady issues” take precedence over Bill.

“C-come on, Bev,” he protests. “I di-hidn’t need to know th-th-that!”

Eddie rolls his eyes and laughs as he makes his way to the back porch for a breath of fresh air. It’s only a matter of seconds before the porch door slams again and Richie joins him, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Eddie leans against the railing and watches the sun stain the sky orange and pink as it sets. The two are silent as Richie lights up. Eddie can tell that his best friend is watching him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks, a cloud of smoke rising from his mouth.

“Oh, nothing important,” Eddie responds, not bothering to take his eyes off the skyline. There is nothing farther from the truth. Eddie is currently thinking about the kiss from Singin’ in the Rain and the kiss Richie gave him and just how badly he wants to kiss Richie again. He looks over to see Richie staring at him. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Richie stamps out the butt of his cigarette on the porch and steps closer to Eddie. “Come off it, Eds. I’ve known you since the diaper days. You’re thinking about something important. I can see the smoke coming out of your ears.” The sentiment along with Richie’s matching hand gestures make Eddie laugh.

Then he realizes just how close Richie has gotten. He feels his eyes drop to his best friend’s lips and flick back to his eyes. This time, Eddie’s eyes are open when Richie kisses him, but soon they flutter closed. It’s better than the last time because Eddie actually has an idea what’s supposed to happen. Although, Eddie has no idea where to put his hands. Richie grabs at them and puts them on his waist. Eddie gasps as his fingers accidentally slip under the hem of Richie’s t-shirt. Richie laughs against his lips and pecks Eddie once more before quickly drawing away.

Eddie’s eyes are still closed dreamily when he says, “Let’s go back inside.”

Richie chuckles. “Yeah, sure, Eds. I’m sure the pizza will be here soon.” He puts an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and starts heading for the front door.

Eddie subconsciously snuggles into Richie’s side. “Don’t call me that.”

Richie brings out his mobster Voice: “Whatever you say, boss.”

iii.

The third time that Richie kisses Eddie, it’s by accident.

The two, along with Mike and Sam, had decided to go to the arcade after school one day. Eddie was having fun despite the arcade being a cesspool of germs. The group had more or less broken up as soon as they stepped in the door so they could each play what they wanted to. Eddie had looked at a few of the consoles and decided to play Frogger, something that seemed a little more his speed than the fighting games that Richie is so fond of or the racing games that Mike dominates.

The first few times he plays are duds, his high score only reaching nine. But this time, luck seems to be on his side. He keeps getting more and more. It doesn’t last very long, but now his high score is forty-two! He tries one more time, fitting his last quarter into the slot. He took a deep breath to focus and started to play.

During this game is when a young girl comes up to the machine to call next and sees how well Eddie is doing. “Wow!” she exclaims. “Good job!”

Eddie barely registers that she’s spoken and continues to play while mumbling a ‘thanks’. The girl runs to her big brother to report how well this boy is doing. He walks over to the machine with her, eyes the near-triple-digit number on the screen, and gets his best friend to watch. Soon, a small crowd has gathered around Eddie to watch him play. The word had spread all around the arcade to the point that most of the patrons and even the freckly teenager running the prize counter had come to witness Eddie’s impossible game.

Richie, Mike, and Sam had caught up and were looking for Eddie when they saw the huge commotion in the center of the arcade. Richie asks one of the kids in the back what’s going on.

“This kid is totally demolishing Frogger!” he responds enthusiastically. “Woo!”

Richie muscles his way forward to see if he can find Eddie somewhere in the crowd. He looks down at the people’s faces, not seeing his best friend anywhere. And then, he’s at the front of the crowd and spots him. At the console.

“Go Eddie!” Richie says, breaking out of his stupor. He shouts and whoops, the crowd following suit.

None of this seems to phase Eddie. He just keeps playing, the score rising into the 4-digit territory. All he does is concentrate and hope that his butterfingers won’t accidentally screw this up. He plays for another ten minutes without messing up. The crowd starts up a chant of his name, Richie, Sam, and Mike leading the pack: “Ed-die! Ed-die! Ed-die!” He smiles, but still doesn’t chance a look up.

Finally, he messes up and causes the frog to lose one of his lives. The crowd makes a mixture of noises, an “ooh!” or a hiss expelled through the teeth. Eddie isn’t stopping though, because he’s got two lives left. The number in the corner of the screen flicks to 5 digits, making everyone absolutely lose their minds.

He messes up again, causing himself to only have one life left. Now he begins to get nervous as the crowd of watchers literally bite at their nails. The score is now 6 digits long and everyone is in awe. He’s already beaten the high score, it’s just a matter of by how much.

He messes up one final time and it’s game over. Even though he lost, the crowd cheers, chanting his name once more. He turns around and pumps his fist in the air, shouting, “Hell yeah!” Mike and Sam rush over to life him on their shoulders as the chanting continues. When they let him down, the machine is still spitting out his massively long chain of tickets.

One of the little boys who had fronted the crowd says, “Mister, you gotta put your name in!” and points at the screen. There’s a cursor blinking in front of his score, a whopping 432,189, for three characters. Eddie thinks momentarily of putting his initials in, but then catches a glimpse of Richie smiling encouragingly at him and types in EDS.

The crowd begins to disperse, some leaving, other going back to their games. Sam and Mike bunch up Eddie’s tickets in their arms and start to feed them into the counting machine. Richie runs towards him and scoops him up, spinning him twice until he’s giggling.

“Amazing!” Richie shouts. He looks Eddie in the eyes and places his hands on either side of his face, planting a kiss on his mouth. This one lasts only six seconds, maybe seven, but it feels like an eternity to Eddie. Richie’s lips are warm and only slightly chapped. They both open their mouths, Richie’s tongue slipping inside. Eddie can taste the cigarettes and sugary banana chewing gum that he’s so fond of. They both pull away at the same time, Richie going red in the face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Eddie cuts him off, “No. It was…” Fantastic, amazing, exhilarating, his mind supplies. More, his heart interjects. But aloud he only says, “nice.” They grin at each other before Richie slings arm around Eddie’ neck and ruffles his hair. “Stop it, you dickwad!”

Richie raises his arms in surrender, but sends a wink his way. Then he turns towards the two boyfriends still counting. “Mike! Sammy! What’s the hold up? The Frogger King needs his prize!” Eddie just rolls his eyes as he feels his heart grow.

iv.

The fourth time Richie kisses Eddie, a month has passed.

It’s nearing one in the morning when Eddie hears the soft tapping against his window. He forces his eyes open and blinks a few time, an attempt to make himself less sleepy. He focuses his ears, listening for the sound to happen again. When it does and he’s sure the noise wasn’t a product of his semi-conscious state, he raises from the bed, taking the duvet with him and pulls his blinds apart to peek outside. There, standing in his yard is a tall, lanky figure that Eddie knows all too well.

He cracks the window open and whisper shouts at the curly-headed person, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Can I come up?” Richie whisper shouts back, a slight strain in his voice. That irregularity instantly puts Eddie on edge. He nods and shuts the window before dropping his blanket and rushing down the steps to the front door. His best friend stands on the porch as he opens the door and ushers him inside. Eddie notices immediately that Richie is curled in on himself, shoulders tight and arms hugged to his midsection. His brow is furrowed also.

“Come on,” Eddie says, extending his hand. Richie takes it, allowing himself to be led up the stairs and into Eddie’s room. He kicks off his ratty sneakers and lays on the bed, knees drawn into his chest and eyes shut painfully tightly. Eddie climbs in next to him, urging him to scoot towards the headboard so he can cover the both of them. Richie does so with the least amount of movement he can get away with and it worries Eddie. His best friend, usually a loudmouthed, vivacious, and energetic person, seemed to be ill in one respect or another. “Do you want to talk about whatever happened?”

Richie’s only response was to nestle into Eddie’s side, placing his head on Eddie’s chest. Eddie is shocked and wills his heartbeat to slow so Richie doesn’t hear it, but still places his hand on his best friend’s head. He slowly runs his fingers through the curls and hopes that it’s calming. Now that there’s so much contact between the two of them, Eddie can feel Richie’s trembling and realizes that he’s crying. That’s when he starts to panic internally.

Richie begins to speak before he can do anything, his voice gravelly and thick with tears: “My mom was out again tonight. She came home drunk off her ass and stumbling around the front yard. I had to get her inside like usual, but this time she was so drunk I literally had to force her into her bed. My dad- my dad didn’t even care, he just stayed asleep.” Eddie grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers, as Richie takes a shuddering breath before continuing. “I asked her if she new my name or even who I was and she just looked at me. She finally said “You’re my nephew, right? Randy? Robert? Roger?” I- I went off on her.” He lets out a strangled sob.

“Shh, shh,” Eddie shushes him. “You don’t have to tell me.”

But Richie just keeps talking through his tears: “I told her she had to get her act together, that she was so hammered she didn’t know her own fucking son, and that at some point I’m not going to be there and dad doesn’t give enough of a shit to make sure she hasn’t choked on her own vomit. She started to cry and I ran like a damn coward.”

“Look at me, Richie,” Eddie says, a stern tone filling his voice. He forces two fingers under Richie’s chin to make him look up with his big, beautiful, brown eyes and even bigger glasses. Eddie removes these before speaking and wipes away a tear with his thumb. “You are not a coward. There’s nothing wrong with wanting a mother who cares. Until she gets her shit together, you’ve got Ben, Bev, Mike, Bill, me, hell, you’ve even got Stan.” Richie chuckles a little and sniffles. “We’ll be your family because we love you.” Because I love you, he thinks.

“Can I kiss you?” Richie asks suddenly. Eddie nods, not fully in control of his actions but not disagreeing with them either. Richie pushes himself up farther and places his lips delicately on Eddie’s. He can feel the slight waver still in Richie’s and pushes himself to be confident.

This kiss is slow and sweet and lasts for what feels like hours. Eddie puts a hand to Richie’s cheek and wipes away remnants of tears. He tastes the salt from them on Richie’s lips. This one is the gentlest of the kisses the two have shared. From both of them, there are only tender lip touches and quick pulses pounding at their throats. They kiss until they can’t breathe and must pull away from each other, but not completely. Their breaths mingle together as they gaze at one another, full attention on the other person.

“We should go to sleep,” Eddie says, his voice coming out in a whisper. They adjust themselves so that they’re laying flat in the bed. Richie’s head is still on Eddie’s chest, but this time his heart beats only slightly above his average rate. They wrap their arms around each other, a reminder that they’ll be together for the night.

“Goodnight, Eds,” Richie says sleepily.

“Goodnight, Rich,” Eddie replies, eyes shuttering closed.

v.

The fifth time Richie kisses Eddie, they’re not alone.

The losers club and Sam are gathered in Bill’s dining room, preparing for game night. The monthly tradition that had started in their youth had become a staple in their lives. It got brutal and always competitive between the teens, especially as they got older and smarter. This month, it’s Bill’s turn to host and supply food.

Outside, the rain is pouring down in sheets. It puts Eddie on edge, being in this house while it’s storming outside like that. He shivers as he watches out the window.

“Eddie!” Bev calls. “We’re about to start and you’re on my team. Get in here!”

Eddie shoots one final look at the water streaming down the road towards the drain, a chill creeping up his spine, and turns to join his friends. They play through a game of charades, Sam and Ben winning by about ten points, before the thunder starts. Eddie, Bill, and Mike jump, taken by surprise at the sudden sharp noise.

“Ooh, I hate that,” Mike remarks uneasily. Everybody chuckles tensely, Sam included, because they all know. The pain is still fresh for some, but what they went through when they were eleven scares everyone. Eddie can feel his face contort into an expression of grim remembrance.

“Let’s keep going,” Richie interjects into everyone’s thoughts. When Eddie looks up, Richie is staring at him. His eyebrow shoots up in question: Alright?

Eddie nods subtly as he is dealt a hand of cards for Go Fish. He is winning significantly, six pairs on the table in front of him, when a flash of lightning lights the windows. Eddie’s eyes grow to the size of saucers and his breaths quicken to the point of near hyperventilation. He knows he’s being irrational but he can’t help thinking of the horrible things that happened some seven years ago. It’s just a storm, Kaspbrak, he has to remind himself. We killed It. Nothing more to worry about.

“Eddie, are you okay?” Stan asks.

Eddie’s eyes are clenched shut as he lets out the last of his labored breaths. “Yeah. Yes. I’m fine. Just a little- jumpy.” Nobody at the table believes him, but they don’t want to work him up into an asthma attack, so they let it go. Eddie ends up winning having gone out with eight groups on the table. Richie jokingly accuses him of cheating before reaching across Bill to ruffle his hair.

Ben checks his watch. “Almost nine-thirty. Do we want to play one more game?”

“Yeah,” Bill says, grabbing for the Battleship box. “You’re all welcome to stay the night.” There are choruses of “thanks” and “sounds good” as a few people rise momentarily to call their parents. When everyone is back at the table, they split into teams of two. Bill, Ben, Eddie, and Sam on one team, Stan, Bev, Richie, and Mike on the other. This game lasts the longest because no one can sink anything on Eddie’ team. It was Ben’s idea to cluster all their ships together since not one person on the other team would guess their strategy.

Everyone’s less jumpy and more involved in the game when the power goes out. Eddie immediately cannot breathe as his mind fills with the nightmares that usually only haunt him in the wee hours of the morning. He swears he can hear the drip drip drip of the gray water in the sewers. He’s not sure if he screams or not, but if he had to bet he’d say yes. He shuts his eyes tighter than ever before and grabs at the table edge with a death grip. He distantly hears his friends shouting for him to look at them, to snap out of it, but he can’t. There is a shout from Richie for someone to grab his backpack and Eddie can hear him rustling around in it for something. He briefly lets go of the table and searches frantically for his inhaler in his pants pockets, in his hoodie, in the fanny pack he still carried, panicking more when he can’t find it, envisioning it in his mind’s eye on the table in the entry hallway. In the back of his memory, the image of his leper comes up and he hears the laugh of It, taunting him. He sees all the blood, his friends hurt, the leper, the werewolf, the mummy, Georgie-

“Eddie!” Richie’s voice commands. He doesn’t open his eyes but feels Richie’s hand delicately touch the back of his head and jams the spout of an inhaler in his mouth. He pushes the trigger once, twice, three times and waits for Eddie’s breathing to start again. “Eddie, open your eyes.”

He opens them slowly. In his panic and confusion, someone must have brought out candles because there are two lit on the table. It’s a miracle he didn’t knock them over and set the whole fucking house on fire. He glances around nervously at all of his friends. Stan is crying silently and he sees Bev is too. Mike is breathing about the same pace as he is, which is to say far too quickly to be healthy. Finally, his eyes slide to best friend. Richie grabs at his hands and puts them on his chest. “Feel my breathing. C’mon, Eds.”

But Eddie just can’t. “I-I-I saw It. I heard It! What if we didn’t kill It? What if It’s still down there, lurking and biding It’s time before another kill? What if another kid gets snatched? What if it’s one of us? God, I can’t of this again. I’m losing my fucking mind! What if-”

Suddenly, Richie’s lips are on Eddie’s. He doesn’t understand why, but it effectively shuts him up. This kiss only lasts a few moments, but it does the job. Eddie is breathing normally and his heart no longer feels like it’s about to take the jump. Richie is a constant in Eddie’s life and that thought calms him considerably. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. When Richie shoots his eyebrow up skeptically, he adds, “I mean it this time. Do you carry my spare inhaler?” Eddie can’t help but ask. 

“Just in case,” Richie responds, he notices that he hasn’t let go of his hands.

When Eddie looks around a second time, everyone in the room has a look of mild shock on the faces. “What?” This breaks everyone out of their gaping stance as they rush to sit down or leave the room entirely and say “nothing, nothing” as they scratch the back of their necks. Eddie shakes his head at them. “Sorry for freaking out.”

“We get it,” Stan says, his voice still tight with tears. He walks towards Eddie and wraps him in a blindingly tight hug. “We’re here for you though. Talk to us, don’t bottle it up. You’re not a burden.” The others pile in for the hug and for the first time in his life since fifth grade, he feels truly safe.

+1

Graduation creeps up unexpectedly on the losers and when it finally does come, they aren’t the least bit prepared. Yes, they know where they’re going to college and what they are studying, but they aren’t ready for the drastic change in their way of life.

This is all that Eddie thinks about as he poses with his various aunts, cousins, and even his grandma as his mother snaps pictures of him in his graduation cap and gown. After what feels like the fiftieth picture, he snaps, “Mom! I told my friends I’d meet them in ten minutes on the other side of town to take pictures. I’ll see you at the ceremony.” He feels bad for blowing up at his mother, so he gives her a quick peck on the cheek before removing his robe, leaving the house, and laying it along with the mortarboard delicately in the backseat of his car.

He drives to the newly constructed bridge over the lake and parks. He can hear his friends in the distance, laughing and shouting, enjoying the last official moments of their youth. Eddie smiles a bittersweet grin as he grabs his cap and gown to join his friends. He crosses to the middle of the bridge when Stan and Richie spot him.

“Fucking finally!” his best friend says. “Eddie Spaghetti is here now!” The loud announcement has gotten the attention of the rest of his friends. He takes the time to look over all the beautiful formal outfits the losers club has picked out.

Bev rushes over to give him a hug. She’s wearing a delicate, form-fitting red gown that drops to her knees. The off-shoulder straps allow everyone to see the heavy dusting of freckles that cover them and with her black pumps on, she’s the same height as Eddie. “You look beautiful,” he whispers into her ear.

“You look snazzy, too,” she replies once she lets go. She yanks playfully on the spring green tie his mother picked out. “Look at you, matching with trashmouth.” Eddie’s eyes dart to Richie who is still standing by Stan and immediately lock onto the near identical bowtie he’s wearing.

“Unintentional,” Eddie says to Bev. She just smirks at him and walks away. He looks around once more, noting that Mike, Stan, and Bill are all wearing black suits with pristine white dress shirts, the only difference being their tie colors. Ben looks dapper in his navy blue suit accompanied by a baby blue dress shirt and cerulean bowtie.

“Alright, ladies, let’s get this show on the road!” Sam calls out, brandishing a camera and gesturing for them to get in one spot. He offered to take pictures for his boyfriend and their friends even because he had graduated a year earlier.

All the losers put on their caps and gowns for the first picture. They stand in a line looking at the camera and smiling. After one nice picture, it all goes to shit. All of them had removed their graduation garb. Somehow, Bev ended up giving Stan a piggyback ride, Mike and Ben were threatening to throw Richie over the edge of the bridge into the lake below, and Bill and Eddie had ditched their suit jackets due to the increasing heat, their suspenders hanging limply by their sides. All the while, Sam’s camera clicking can be heard.

“One more, one more!” Sam shouts. The losers regroup and stand in the same formation as before, though a little more bright eyed and smiles a little wider. The camera snaps once more before Sam instructs them to get to the auditorium before they’re late. The losers split up between the three cars, Sam taking Mike, Bill taking Stan, Bev, and Ben, and Eddie taking Richie. They take their sweet time loading their gowns into the backseat of Eddie’s car and are the last set to leave.

Before either can get in the car, Richie speaks up: “You look really good. Handsome, I mean.” His hands are buried deep in his pockets and eyes downcast, but Eddie can see the blush lighting his best friends’s cheekbones.

“Thanks, Rich,” Eddie replies, struggling to keep his own blush from showing. “You clean up good.” Their eyes meet over the car and Eddie feels an overwhelming surge of emotions for Richie. The words are tumbling from his lips before he can stop them: “What are we?”

Richie has a deer in the headlights look in his eyes, caught with no chance of escape. “What do you want to be?”

Eddie rounds the front of his car so they can speak properly to one another. “I asked you first.”

His best friend takes in a deep, grounding breath before speaking. “Honestly? So much more than friends.” He lets out a breathy, nervous laugh that makes Eddie feel all sorts of things. “I’ve had the biggest, gayest crush on you for God knows how long and I’ve never had the balls to talk to you about it and the “kissing lessons?” Yeah, can’t say I’m proud of that one. I just didn’t know how to get your attention and I did the only thing that I could think of on the spot. I’m really sorry that I took advantage of you like that, but I’m not sorry that I finally got to kiss you. Wow, I’m making this a lot worse and I cannot stop talking-”

“Oh, shut up, you big idiot,” Eddie says lovingly, having heard enough and pulling Richie towards him by the lapel. He kisses his best friend with as much energy as he can muster. Hands fisted in Richie’s jacket, Eddie is finally the same height as his gangly friend. Richie grabs Eddie by the suspenders and drags him even closer, a hand drifting upwards to caress Eddie’s cheek. Eddie nips at Richie’s lower lip, gaining access to his mouth in the process. He tastes like cigarettes, as always, but underneath that is the taste of mint. When they finally come up for air, they’re both gasping. Eddie leans his forehead against Richie’s, breathing in the same breaths. “You’ve always had my attention. It was you I thought was unattainable. And there’s nothing for you to be sorry about. Jesus, all this fucking round and round and we could’ve been dating this whole time.”

“You want to date me?” Richie asks incredulously.

“Of course,” Eddie says simply. He places another, shorter kiss on Richie’s lips before returning to his side of the car. “Let’s get going. My mom would actually kill me if we skipped.” The two climb into Eddie’s car, driving towards the high school. Richie carefully intertwines their fingers, receiving a huge grin from Eddie. Even though they are about to officially graduate and be free to do as they please in the world, they are certain about one thing and one thing only: that they will be together.

And for now, that’s enough.

~ ~ ~

This took a very long time to write and I sincerely hope you enjoy it. To the incredibly patient anon that requested this: bless your soul. I wish I had this kind of patience. Got a request? Submit one here. See my masterlist here.

[recentanimenews]

KILL la KILL - IF Is Heavy On Depth And Light On Content

If you’re a fan of Studio Trigger, you’re probably well aware that an important date is fast approaching. In just a handful of weeks, it’ll be October 4th once again, marking six years to the date since Trigger began airing their first full-length television anime: Kill la Kill. Combining the talents of established creators and young talents alike, this project took the anime world by storm and put the fledgeling studio behind it on the map. It remains an incredibly popular entry in Trigger’s growing catalogue of international hits, though many fans lament the fact it was never continued past its first and only season. 

  Admittedly, I was never one of them. I had gone into the show with high expectations for it and couldn’t help but feel sadly let down by the end. So when I found out that a Kill la Kill arena fighter for the PS4, Switch, and Steam was in the works, titled KILL la KILL - IF, I initially had no interest. That is, until I found out it was being published by none other than THE Arc System Works, rulers of the anime fighting game scene. With the likes of BlazBlue, Guilty Gear, and Dragon Ball FighterZ under their belt, they can hardly do wrong in the fighter department. Sure, they may have merely published and oversaw development at A+ Games, and it is a 3D arena fighter opposed to their usual 2D fighting specialty, but make no mistake: KILL la KILL - IF feels like an ArcSys game through and through.

    Upon starting KILL la KILL - IF for the first time, you’ll find yourself immediately forced into playing “episode one” of the game’s story mode. The story mode places you in the role of none other than Satsuki Kiryuin at the conclusion of the Naturals Election. Facing off against series protagonist Ryuko Matoi, this first mission acts as your basic tutorial for the game, and completing it will unlock Free Battle as well as a few other modes, though you’ll need to progress further in the story to unlock all of them.

  Regarding the story, I have good news and bad news for Kill la Kill fans. The good news is that this story mode isn’t a simple retreading of the show’s story. It’s a new scenario written out by the show’s original screenwriter, Kazuki Nakashima, offering an alternate series of events offshooting from the dramatic turn that takes place during the Cultural and Sports Grand Festival in the show. You also play as Satsuki for the majority of this storyline, offering by far the show’s best character a much-deserved spotlight.

    The bad news is that, unfortunately, it isn’t very good. If there was one thing I liked about the show, it’s that it had tremendous style to it ― a style that the cutscenes in KILL la KILL - IF completely fail to emulate. They try, sure, but the result is just incredibly awkward. Watching a flat cel of a character cartoonishly fall off the stage at a 90 degree angle is funny in 2D. Watching the same exact thing happen to a 3D model is just ugly. 

  If that isn’t bad enough, there’s barely any actual story in this alternate telling of events. The story lasts a handful of hours, and most of the cutscenes you’ll see are just various characters finding any reason they can to fight each other. It completely lacks any fanservice. No, not that kind, the other kind. The kind that fans want out of seeing the characters they obsess over interact in new situations. KILL la KILL - IF’s story has next to none of that, if any. At best a character will get a very archetypical line or two before fighting again. While I’m at it, there is in fact less fanservice fanservice than in the show. Characters are now shown in underwear where they were once buck naked, so there’s that, too, I suppose.

    Another glaring issue in the game is a disappointing lack of content. KILL la KILL - IF features only eight fighters: Ryuko, Satsuki, the Elite Four, Nui, and Ragyo. Admittedly, this shallow roster is to be expected from a licensed property with a mere 24 episodes to its name. But still, it wouldn’t be impossible to pick out a few minor ones from the Kill la Kill canon. As far as I’m concerned, it’s completely inexcusable that Fight Club Mako didn’t make the cut. I’d much rather play as her than any single member of the final roster. 

  The stage and alternate color palette limitations are also felt to a lesser degree. There are only six stages in the game, most of which feel and look a lot like one another. Again, this is mainly a problem stemming from the source material. Kill la Kill also suffered from a lack of variety in its environments. That being said, the lack of alternate color options for characters is rather baffling. Each character has their default look, an alternate look based on the show’s OVA, and their own unique palette swap based on popular ArcSys characters. With a confusing lack of options in the game, one would expect them to be selling more as DLC, but that isn’t the case either. 

    Now, all of that’s pretty negative, but don’t start removing the game from your wishlist just yet. While KILL la KILL - IF does fail to deliver on the Kill la Kill fanservice-y side story shenanigans fans of the show might want, it’s still a game that comes courtesy of Arc System Works, meaning it is a fantastically fun fighter from the moment you pick up the controller. 

  The mechanics are incredibly simple to pick up. You have a melee attack, a projectile, and a guard break to attack with as well as special attacks that can be activated once your SP meter fills. When certain conditions are fulfilled, you can activate your Bloody Valor, a head to head rock-paper-scissors-type battle that can award different buffs to the winner while dealing damage to the loser. There’s also a guard button for defense and a jump button that can be used to dash in different directions relative to your opponent. 

  These are, all things considered, pretty simple mechanics. However, there is a tremendous amount of accessible depth to this game’s combat. There are a myriad of different combos that can be strung together from these options. All of them are spelled out clearly and succinctly in every character’s Command List along with very helpful information about each character’s specific strengths, weaknesses, and how they’re meant to be played. 

    Though the roster may be small, there is a lot of diversity in playstyle from character to character. Gamagoori’s damage output rises the more damage he takes, and he can self-inflict damage to complement that. Nui is a highly technical character best utilized in air combat. Nonon utilizes strong projectile attacks but sports less options in close combat. Each character feels different to play as and must be approached differently when played against. 

  The only persistent complaint I have about the combat is the camera. The player has no control over the camera. It instead revolves around your opponent, meaning that if your opponent is backed into a corner, you can find yourself facing your character further away but still having to control them as if you are looking behind the back at them. Additionally, certain attacks or characters can outright block your view of your own character. This can lead to situations where you have no idea if you’re being combo'd at all or not.

    Camera issues aside, if any of that sounds interesting to you, you better hope you have some friends to play against because the online scene I experienced on PS4 was dead as a doornail. After spending all night plugging away at the story, I went to bed excited to wake up the next day, find a character whose playstyle I liked, and hop online to try them against some real people. When the time came I hopped into Free Battle and began looking for a room.

  Nothing.

  I furrowed my brow and tried again. Nothing.

  I went through all the room search parameters to make sure I cast as wide a net as possible. 

  Still nothing. 

    Baffled, I checked my internet connection. No problems there. There wasn’t a single lobby to be found for non-ranked matches online. I created my own lobby just to see if there was anyone out there. I waited, and waited, and waited. TWENTY MINUTES LATER someone finally connected. I played three matches with them. I went decisively 0-3. 

  Ranked battle was a slightly different story. I immediately connected with another user and was again demolished, this time by both my opponent and some of the worst lag I have ever experienced in an online game. After declining their rematch, I sat and waited for another to come along. No one ever did. 

    It was a real gut check moment that halted all of the enjoyment I’d had playing KILL la KILL - IF. As someone who enjoys playing competitive games, there’s little enjoyment to be had from playing against AI-controlled opponents. It can help you get the basics down, but you won’t be able to play at a higher level unless you’re testing yourself against actual people. KILL la KILL - IF’s online scene is barren, so without a circle of skilled friends to play against, your only option is enduring excruciatingly long matchmaking times only to be matched up with opponents who probably have terrible connections. 

  It’s truly unfortunate. There’s a great game to be found within KILL la KILL - IF, but it’s being held back by the very property it’s based on. The pool of reference the developers had to draw from in Kill la Kill was just way too shallow. Not to mention that though the series may be popular, it’s nowhere near as iconic or identifiable as its licensed counterparts in the 3D arena fighter genre. The overlap between ArcSys fans, Kill la Kill fans, and 3D arena fighter fans was just way too small. Arc System Works and A+ Games delivered a really solid fighter ― here’s hoping they can do it again with something a bit more marketable. 

    REVIEW ROUNDUP

+ Accessible, satisfying combat with a high skill ceiling

+ Gorgeous combat animations ArcSys fans know and love

+ Thorough, easy to understand Command Lists

+/- Unique playstyles for every character, but an incredibly limited roster

- Limited content and callbacks for Kill la Kill fans to appreciate

- Seriously, they didn’t even include Fight Club Mako

- Disappointingly boring story mode

- Wonky camera positions mid-battle

- Online scene is dead-on-arrival

  Are you a Kill la Kill fan excited for KILL la KILL - IF? Have you already played the game? Let us know how you feel about it in the comments below!

      -----

  Danni Wilmoth is a Features writer for Crunchyroll and co-host of the video game podcast Indiecent. You can find more words from her on Twitter @NanamisEgg.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

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