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athetos · 22 days

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My loz tierlist

Thoughts under the cut!

Masterpiece: Ocarina of Time is my favorite Zelda game, and I know it is at least partially due to nostalgia, but it holds up so well today and is still an absolute joy to play. Personally I think it is the peak of 3D Zelda, i give it 10/10 in every category across the board - dungeon design, overworld, plot/dialogue/side quest stuff, music, gameplay… tears of the kingdom may also be one of my favorites due to recency, and not nostalgia, but I find it very difficult to believe it will ever diminish in quality greatly over time. There is so much to do, and it really took what was good about botw and made it even better. I was in awe the entire time I played, and I will only continue to play it as time goes on, coming back to it again and again. I think there are a couple nitpicks the game could improve upon but it is an excellent early swan song for the switch. Botw, truthfully should be somewhere between masterpiece and not quite perfect, simply because totk improved it so much it’s harder to go back to it. But it was also an amazing journey.

Not quite perfect, but amazing: wind waker is a game i so desperately wanted to put in the masterpiece tier, but simply was unable to do so. There are several frustrations I have with the game that stop me from calling it perfect. I only had the GCN copy, so perhaps the Wii U version fixed these issues, but slow sailing, the triforce fetch quest, and how aggravating getting all the pictobox collectables are dampened my enjoyment. However, I want to emphasize that the dungeons are nearly on par with ocarina of time here; that the graphics are beautiful and aged well even on GCN; and that the music is a true delight. It’s why I recommend it to everyone, if you can handle these annoyances littered throughout.

A link to the past is another game I wanted to call a masterpiece, but had to settle for second best. I replayed it 2 years ago and while I had as much fun as the first time, there were surprisingly a couple parts that did not hold up as well as I remembered! Mainly, a couple of dungeons (fuck skull woods) and overworld progression. However, like wind waker, the highlights of the game are unparalleled and when the dungeon design is good, it’s fantastic. Majora’s mask is a very unique Zelda game, one that I personally champion, and like wind waker, it just has some imperfections that do frustrate me going back to it. For example, the tight time limits on dungeons (especially that godawful great bay temple) were agonizing, especially if you were trying to get every fairy. It was also hard to keep track of all the side quests, even with the 3ds journal. But it is such a special game!

Skyward Sword is a game I’m glad is being reevaluated now that it’s on switch with options for no motion controls and less of Fi. Because it’s amazing! I will never forgive anyone who told me the game was bad! Unfortunately, after games like botw and totk it makes the “open-ness” of the world feel very small and limiting; the great sky is empty and barren, and the surface being separate regions kind of hurts. Late in the game, it also gives way to padding; I think the spirit trials were terrifying and very cool, but “you’re trapped and now you need to find your gear again!” And “find all the stupid little tadpole things I forgot what they were maybe they weren’t tadpoles!” Was just so unnecessary. And I do not want to even talk about the imprisoned’s toesie-woesies!!! Kill me!!! But the rest of the game is so good it nearly makes up for all of it!!

Great, better than your average game: the minish cap is a game I remember very fondly, although not without a few gripes. I think the npcs and hyrule town are some of my favs in the franchise, and I actually enjoyed for the most part the Kinstone quests. But after playing parts of it again recently, and watching videos on it, I acknowledge it has faults that stop it from achieving true greatness. Phantom hourglass is also a game I think was great, at least partially because you made your own maps. I love making maps! And the gameplay was good! But my god, the ocean tower…. An absolute slog! A nightmare! Evil! The first Zelda is so simple, but holds up as being very fun even today, despite its shortness; of course it belongs in this tier.

Links awakening dx/hd had some amazing moments, but a few bad ones too. I either loved or hated the dungeons, some of the side quests were mehhh, but the overall game is delightful. Hd is recommended because you can have more weapons equipped at once! A godsend! Spirit tracks, it didn’t particularly stand out to me much, but I did have fun with it! And the Oracle games I am a fan of, I think they’re good but have a couple limitations from the hardware that irk me. If they had remakes, I think they would actually go to near perfection tier for me! Who knows!

Good/Average: I have a confession: I am not a link between worlds lover. I enjoyed it quite a bit when it first came out, but going back to it has been hard; I don’t get very far before dropping it. It feels kind of like a lesser link to the past, but with a worse central mechanic. I liked the non-linearity, but disliked having to rent items, and it meant that the only upgrades found in dungeons couldn’t be items you need for progression, really. A shame, because the dungeons could be quite good. Four swords adventure is good, but it’s such a hassle finding 3 other players and setting it up! I was never able to complete it. The adventure of link is rather unique, but not bad; in fact I liked the metroidvania elements! It’s worth playing, but will not blow your mind. Lastly, twilight princess… this may surprise you, but I was never a big fan. It’s so slow! The opening makes me tired thinking about it. I also felt the graphics aged poorly, and while the dungeons are good, they aren’t nearly as great as other games have been. It’s all very disappointing.

Bad - tri force heroes was bad I am not explaining why. You agree.

#ash.rom #loz #I was on pain meds when I wrote some of this . a warning

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v4y-4rt · 5 months

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A return to Tumblr (And the announcement of my dream project)

Hi everyone, today I'm going to talk about my project called "Multi-World", it's a project I could have started my Tumblr with, but it was taken over by the game spinoff GTCC (Gatoon the cow-car, which was "frozen" for many reasons), today I'll talk about the plot and characters briefly (well almost), because it's my dream project that I've been doing since I was 7 years old (from 2017 to be exact), remaking the plot and making it original, to make it interesting and loved, as this is my first project, with the idea to show that the multiverse may not be a crossover, but something more than what could be under the word "multiverse", I will start with a brief backstory, and then with a description of what is happening and the characters (Using their simple design's, to represent their "character", and to represent their design).

"Multi-World" is a project that will be like an animated series, and a graphic novel (which I will be doing), the project tells the story that in one peaceful world, in harmony and silence, and the god of this world had a nightmare that frightened him that something could destroy him, something stronger and more terrible, he imprisoned this nightmare in a kind of cage, which is called "canvas", in the depths of the world, while the villain of darkness, with magical artifacts and not only, decided to summon the nightmare, or rather to incarnate it from darkness and dark energy, the villain made a contract with the nightmare, which was like a demon, with something similar ghostly body shape, and one eye with a mouth, when making the contract, the villain takes control of it, and decides to gather magical powers and energies from the god world to get outside of it, and do evil in other worlds, until he gets to a place where there are all universes, in the form of some kind of nodes with spheres, the villain in the form of a demon, gathers powers from other universes, energy that makes the demon mad and stronger than the gods, Until the villain began to lose control of the demon, the demon told him to unite the universes with their worlds with one universe and world (which is something like our universe with the Earth), and he swore an oath that he would find someone to give the powers to him as an "inheritance" to live forever in the powers of others who will receive this "inheritance", the demon, because of an overdose of powers, decided to do it, but in a different way, and he decided to overthrow the gods to get even more powers, and to be the ruler, the king of the multiverse, while the god of the world where the villain escaped, and the god of all deities "the ruler", who created the "Place where there are all universes", decide to make a hero, the god of the world where the villain escaped was responsible for the species and its form, and the ruler for the powers and abilities, they made a strange but fast and strong hero who should grow up on earth and be its hero, but something went wrong and the gods before sending him in a capsule that looks like either an asteroid or a soccer ball, were spotted by a demon, the god decided to send him into space by kicking him, and in the meantime they together with other gods, arranged a battle with the demon, but everything ended not in a good way, the demon defeated everyone, but there is a chance, as the shards of the ruler scattered across the cosmos of the world where the "hero" was sent, and before the portal to our universe almost closed, the demon cunningly sneaks into it.This is one of the few indie projects that is based on anything, and has something original, like characters, lore, etc., my world is interesting and mysterious, because of which many mysteries can be incomprehensible, or be not revealed until a certain point, now let's talk about the events taking place in it.

The events take place in the world, which in a few years after the demon decided to unite anything from those or other universes, like planets, places, and not only, has become larger and even dangerous, as one inventor, and the founder of a corporation to dispose of anything from different worlds, like characters, monsters, places, and not only, except that many characters were either normal, or really crazy, but this corporation is the most real corplration of evil, because its founder went crazy, and is organizing a massacre for helping these characters, or them, so to speak, organizing a real "genocide" against them, when the "hero" gets there, he meets three other characters that are original characters from this world, and together with them they will either save the characters and the world from the demon and corpletion, and have fun and do something to occupy themselves or do not suffer from laziness, as each of the main characters (which are four), is different from each other, because we go to them.

The "hero" or "Gatoon" the cow-car

A character based on my favorite character from platformers, and in general my favorite character is Rayman, and my favorite flash/mobile game franchise Car eats car, Gatoon was my very first character, because he came to me in a dream, but he looked different, but he has changed beyond recognition, and he was the oldest character from the beginning when I thought about Multi-World, and its plot, because he is already 7 years old in 2024 ! (Oh my god, where time flies), and he is the fastest character than Sonic or Flash, but he is strong and tough, because he can like Peppino Spaghetti, break everything in his way without taking any damage, his hat is like Wonder's hat (from Wonder over yonder), but with one feature, his hat is like a pocket dimension, where he can throw anything he wants, like something heavy or big, and the shape of the hat won't change, but it's like Wonder's hat, it's like Wonder's hat, it's a little bit different from Wonder's, Gatoon is a little bit silly, but he's adventurous, and he can even offer to go on adventures, he's lazy sometimes, but sometimes he's crazy, but he's got a best friend, and he's my OC, and in the original canon of Self-insert (of which there's a little bit left), and that is Vayson

The best friend "Vayson"

Vayson was also like Gatoon the first character, but I had a problem with how to write him as a character, with the history and so on, his story is that he was a child in an ordinary family, with a dog (Pomeranian breed), everything was not bad until one moment, when robots broke in, from the same corporation for the disposal of characters and so on, Vayson ran away with his dog, and they lived on the street until Vayson found a helmet in the trash, which affected him, because Vayson's intelligence became greater, or smarter, because the energy of the helmet was some kind of radioactive energy, and the interesting thing is that the helmet partly affected the dog, making it bigger, and Vayson, like Gustavo, started riding the dog and looking for a place to live, until he met Gatoon (I could describe it in more detail, but that's spoilers), Vayson is quiet and lonely, and teenagers like him were horrible, and he got bullied, which made Vayson have a challenge in life to find a friend/friends, or a girlfriend, so to socialize with people like him (who can't be called people), he became friends with Gatoon, but they became friends with an interesting and strange person, about whom nothing is known, but her story is absurd and strange like himself.

The strange/drunk person "Bass-man"

Bass - man is a very weird but funny friend, his design and idea is a trope about rappers looking crazy and being dr#g addicts, but it's more interesting than that, Bass - man's backstory is sad and stupid in nature, because he was a famous musician a long time ago, but at some point he decided to become a hippie and do something to be like a hippie, but everything went downhill, because he decided to grow hair (the funny thing is that he is a humanized orange lol), and he decided to use some "substances" (which is a joke on substances to increase the size of his PP), but his fertilizers made it worse, and he became completely like a bush, but began to rot inside, then he decided to try the advice of his colleagues, some "fertilizers" (it's also a joke, but already on dr#gs), and he started to go not so much crazy, but he became "crazy" to say the least, he stopped feeling any pain (like hitting, falling, or smashing something), he has no definite nationality, but he has two completely different accents, namely Ugandan and Tatar (as his voice and accent resembles such supposed accents), he is allergic to orange juice, but when he is "allergic" he does the craziest things, like breaking things, and jumping out of windows, and acting like a drunk, which ironically he is, but besides his crazy, he has another friend who is very interesting with his history, and his abilities, and that is Frozyx.

The nimble and unusual "Frozyx"

Frozyx, unlike Bass-man and the others, is a mix of the other 3 main characters, because he is a little bit calm like Vayson, a little bit adventurous like Gatoon, and a little bit crazy like Bass-man (in a good way), but he has traits that make him stand out, so he is secretive, "closed" from others, because he doesn't like to socialize so much and sometimes get mad, because he prefers to be alone, and think about the philosophy of the world and its meaning, because the world that has become like this is one big game of chess, where every loss can't come back or somehow appear, every move is a move to win or to lose, so Frozyx thinks that he can risk his life in adventures, and in contact with someone like bass-man, or someone else, but he will later realize that he better not be "closed", because he will be helped at any moment, and even make him more socialized, because his backstory is that he was ice, that he was an enchanted wizard, and when he escaped to a safe haven, for centuries, until the world went crazy and he thought he was going to be smashed or destroyed and he decided not to contact anyone and not to hope for the best, but one thing, he's agile, and he can even become in the form he was enchanted with, which is ice with legs, and he can also transform into a more "humanized" form, but he sometimes uses this to hide somewhere and be dressed as humans, which is evident in his clothes, he is a character that is a bit pitiful, but when he gets better, he realizes that his friends will help him with anything, because they have something from Frozyx, like destiny, abilities, and fortune.

I've told you all about the project, it's come a long way, we haven't talked about which characters inspired me to create others, and not only !, I tried to write this post, and even rewrote it, so wait for more information on "Multi-World" from me, and probably a graphic novel that will be released on webtoon (if I decide to post comics there, and a graphic novel), bye !

#indie artist #indie author #indie animated series #indie comics #indie comix #indie project

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talkingwoman · 2 years

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B&A is......what?

As the American premiere of Luca Guadanigno’s latest film, generally admired on the festival circuit, approaches, the PR machine designed to garner award nominations for the project has begun to kick in at ramp speed. It is an interesting and unusual process b/c the horror genre is usually not the stuff of award winning entertainment. The Shape of Water, the 2018 movie that won Best Picture may be the closest, but I would argue that the long-ago Silence of the Lambs was a superior horror entry, although it was neither billed nor promoted as such, and obviously lacked critical elements of the horror genre (a monster (s), vague and explicit danger galore, and wildly terrified characters in the plot) All of this leads to a question of how an unabashedly violent and bloody work (I have not seen the movie, but have two contacts who were able to see it) aimed to shock and horrify audiences might entertain such lofty ambitions.

In the press accounts I have seen, Luca G appears to want to have things two ways at once. On the one hand, he elects to adapt the original B&A story to include graphic, repulsive footage of cannibalism, a religious, legal, and social taboo in every advanced culture in recorded history. But, instead of focusing on the pure evil of predators stalking and killing their fellow humans as routinely as you or I might butcher a deer or dress a partridge to have for dinner, the director tries to manipulate the audience into identifying with the very physically beautiful young cannibals, feeling sympathy for their feelings of isolation/abandonment, and most surprising (to me) accepting the premise that two clearly pathological people could be “a coming of age love story.” Excuse me? Serial murderers do romance? Alert the staff of the DSM; a new category of deviant psychosis has been advanced. Yes, I am being purposely snarky here. I found parts of the published interviews with Luca and Timmy implausible at best and ludicrous at worst. Allegedly, the filmmakers consulted experts on “how cannibals proceed to consume their prey.” Let’s roll the film credits now, cuz I really wonder who such experts are and how they did their research; in the field observations, self report measures, interviews with survivors?

Perhaps imagining that some would object to the inherent repulsiveness of his characters and their choices (no, cannibalism is not a genetic trait, despite the original author’s and the director’s literary conceit to the contrary), Luca elected to try and elevate the blood lust to a commentary on sociological issues of interest in contemporary society. Disenfranchisement, he claims, and the way people forced to the fringes of society cope are integral to the film. Let’s look at this argument a bit more closely. Maren and Lee stalk, murder, and eat fellow human beings; this makes them fringe (Thank God) and disenfranchised? Damn well hope so; they should be imprisoned, perhaps executed for the sheer brutality and frequency of their murders. And yes, I can hear you saying, it’s fiction, it’s a movie, it’s not real. And you are absolutely correct. If B&A was treated as say, The Wizard of Oz, a fantasy movie with similarly implausible characters and behaviors, all well and fine. But no, this movie attempts, apparently successfully, to manipulate the audience into believing these are characters you care about, want to find happiness, see as emblems of some cultural failure. “It’s not my fault human flesh is not available at the local butcher shop.” Oh, please. Beautiful cinematography of the American landscape and a strong soundtrack seduce the audience, like the physical beauty of the main characters, into thinking ‘”These guys aren’t all evil and cruel; they look hot with some victim’s blood all over their faces. I wanna date him (her)”

Another lifeline type argument Luca and some film reviewers have offered is that cannibalism is a metaphor, most probably for queerness and the rejection gays experience in many cultures. Metaphor is a term which has a specific literary and linguistic definition, but in common parlance the usage gets mangled so permit me some precision. Why is cannibalism a poor metaphor for queer behavior? Easy peasy. Cannibalism in this context is criminal, often violent, and anti-social. Queerness has been criminal (still is in some cultures), but is rarely violent, anti-social, or harmful to consenting participants. Queerness is, in my argument, self actualization. Cannibalism is self indulgence at the total expense of another human being. If that doesn’t knock the metaphor argument off the table (metaphorically speaking, wink, nudge, wink), I capitulate. You are working on a different comparison than the one I see.

In fairness, I can’t let Timmy Chalamet at once my sweet skinny noodle, but also a producer on this film who has said he was active in preparing the script, shaping his Lee into a form not in the original novel and acting as a spokesman for the movie, off the hook. In an interview excerpt published today, this naif uttered a word salad explanation for the film and the characters that was, cuz I love him and want to be kind, just inscrutable Despite this man’s consistently incoherent speaking style, people often characterize him as wise beyond his years, an old soul, and possessed of a unique, eclectic intellect. Please. Timmy has never presented himself as an intellect, or even academically average. His talent got him into his high school where his academic performance was not distinguished and he did not finish a single semester of college. His attempt to articulate social trends of the Reagan era, completely misapply the term individualism as a cultural descriptor, and suggest that a sexy murder spree was somehow the result of a broken social promise was sadly cringeworthy. Call in the rewrites team if Timmy is going to be a mouthpiece. No one, and I mean this sincerely, can deliver a script better than he. Free form talking? Not so much.

For any of you who read this or any of my other posts, these ideas has been percolating in my thoughts since a group at a recent cocktail party began discussing the Dahmer television series and we talked for quite a while about the amoral nature of the entertainment media, interested in turning a profit even at the expense of taste, moral posture, or social standards. B&A and the remake of Interview with the Vampire were only tangentially mentioned, but particularly with regard to blood and violence. Some wondered why Luca eschewed explicit gay love scenes in CMBYN, but went full bore bloody in his latest outing. interesting. I wish someone would ask him. Come yell at me anytime. I’d love to know your thoughts.

@mysteryofcharmie @694699@heartsandparts@coloradocharmiegirl@estellaestella@alittlefrenchtree

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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Stuck in 1903

Part Two

Masterlist

Summary: Damon and Bonnie had come to your rescue, or so you thought, but it is Kai’s every intention to get close to you again

Pairing: Kai Parker x reader

Warnings: angst, smidge of fluff, mentions of smut, mentions of death, mentions of murder, bad friendships, mentions of poison, swearing

Word Count: 2052

Find Part One Here

divider by @firefly-graphics

If the Other Side continued to exist, then you would be there rather than this subordinate prison world which had been designed for one bad witch. Kai's own kind feared him, you had experienced him mentally draining your energy, he was a chore to put up with, but he could do much more than that, you had learnt from Bonnie. He fed off magic, physically stealing it from bodies and items that harboured any of it, which had poisoned his mind to hunt for power. Your friends had informed you that he had murdered his siblings, well some of them anyway, and had attempted to do so to more of them. And now you knew, with supporting evidence, never to trust Malakai Parker.

Without Damon and Bonnie you had to resort to fending for yourself, which was not at all difficult since this version of Mystic Falls that you were trapped in was quite literally a ghost town. The forever enveloping silence was torture, though the method of ignorance had not been designed for you; it was all for Kai, and that unsettled you. There was one more thing that you had been dreading - the possibility that you could not escape from the remote isolation without the aid of the guest starring siphon himself. This hell was built to contain him for eternity, but now there was magic that he could use to his own advantage nearby.

Your cheek rested upon the side of your hand, mushing the flesh whilst your elbow was poised upon the countertop of the kitchen island in the Salvatore house. All of your concentration validated your deep thoughts, of which you were broken from as a plate was placed directly in front of you, a pancake decorated with chocolate chips and syrup to form a smiley face. Damon was the culprit as he threw a tea towel over his shoulder, expectedly looking at you.

"I'm not hungry." You informed the vampire, who simply frowned at your lack of an appetite. "I ate yesterday, which was technically today." Beneath the table, you crossed your ankles, as you earnt a sigh from your well aged friend; he clearly was not impressed by your behaviour. But you didn't know what he had expected from you, you had been trapped here for longer than you could remember, and alone until you had discovered the man that had been outcast by his own family. At the time you had not known of his murderous tendencies, and had wanted nothing more than to get away from him, and you wouldn't like to admit it but you even missed him a little.

He was annoying and cocky, and withheld crucial information from you, though there was something that contradicted that all. Whenever any one of your friends had suffered the fate of death, they were always attempted to be brought back to life against the natural order of things. It made you wonder and doubt a little if they had even tried to resurrect you. In this separated reality, there was no jurisdiction so that you could know, though each time that either Damon or Bonnie looked at you, you could swear that there was guilt written in their gazes.

"Look I knew being stuck here with Kai must have fucked you up-" he should have bit his lip, his assumptions were anything but correct. And that was proven as you defensively darted out of your seat and jabbed your finger in his face, making him pivot his jaw back. There were many things that were 'fucked up', and supposing that you were one of them because you had died after sacrificing yourself to ensure that they all continued to live just didn't settle right with you. The context of the morbid situation did not help with condoning any reassurance at all, in fact, it gave a spine to your lack of faith in him and the others in the first place. Out of everyone, it was inherently worse to be here with Damon, all he had cared about was his precious Elena as well as himself, and after existing for well over a century, that was insurance that he was never going to change.

"It wasn't him who did that to me, it was roaming this damned place by myself, I had no one. And as crazy as it sounds, I think spending time with the notorious Malakai Parker helped me keep what was to spare of my sanity. If I'm not wrong, I may even say that I've found more being here than dealing with the bullshit y'all cause back home." Perhaps your words were a tad harsh, if Bonnie were in the room you were sure that she'd have a somewhat understanding of what you were saying. Though she was not, and thus you had to deal with the harshness of her best friend all by your lonesome. And it seemed that you had rattled him, apparently he couldn't handle the truth.

"Then why don't you run back to the sociopath? When we discovered that you were here, we found the pair of you attached to the hip anyways. And with him inside of you, I'd never seen you so darn happy, better here with him than tempting me to drink bleach from the way that you constantly complained when you were alive; I swear you were worse than Donovan." It was on your mind's own command for you to take a step back, and away from the toxin that Damon had so cruelly spat at you. Ans the way that he compared you to Matt made you angry; it was though he were ignoring that there were valid reasons for the blond to be the way that he was - after all, the monster before you had practically killed his sister. A laugh renegaded out from your mouth as you realised that you had been right all along, none of them cared. You were just a burden that stopped them from having a perfect life together. If this were a book, then this would be the beginning to your villain arc, and ironically enough Damon saw himself as one of the good guys. Now that was utterly ridiculous after every reckless thing that he had ever done!

"Have it your way then bloodsucker." All along, you should have trusted your guy, and from now on you knew that you would listen to it. And strangely enough, it was calling you to Kai, maybe it was because he was your last resort to escaping this imprisonment that had been meant for him alone. Turning on your heel, you heard Damon flop the towel down on the side and sigh, though you continued to walk, appeasing your better judgement elsewhere. "Wait." He tried to convince you to stay, belatedly understanding the mistake that he had made, but it was no use, you were already on your journey of getting as far away as possible from him.

The Mystic Grill, it remained to be familiar in your eyes as you entered. It was empty and void of drunken assholes and narcissists that you had wasted too much time on. The only person that you missed in the modern alternative was Matt Donovan, he was the only person that didn't treat you as though you were invisible or a nuisance. You wondered how he was coping with your absence, knowing him, he was probably relieved that Damon was gone. But you weren't, because he was here with you instead. Trailing your fingertips over the counter of the bar, out of the corner of your eye you saw a lonely glass of bourbon that was sat there as though it were lamenting you with mockery. You tried to hold your sentimental sob inside, but it was practically impossible. It tore through your body, bellowing out from your mouth as you stifled and fought through your tears.

A hand caressed the landscape of your back causing you to jump and flinch from the unexpected contact. One thing that you had learnt from evading and eventually experiencing the qualms of death, was that you could never be too careful. For no more than a second you had predicted that the intruder to your pity party was Damon, that he had followed you as you tried to distance yourself from him, but alas it was not, instead of being greeted by a fretless vampire, you were condemned by the sight of a powerless witch, of whom had purposely interjected your moment of cracked emotion and wore a brave smile for you. Wiping your eyes with the back of your sleeves, you couldn't help but snap at him. "If you're here to finish what we started then tough luck Parker, you've been here long enough and you have two hands, figure something else out."

His tongue darted out to swipe at his own bottom lip, as he raised his hand, showcasing his offering to you. "I was only going to see if you wanted a pork rind, you look like you could use one." Sighing, you dug your hand into the pungent packet that was littered with dust and crumbs, retrieving a few treats for yourself as you placed them in your mouth. "And now should be when the poison kicks in..." With your hand, you gave him a little shove as you tolled your eyes at his homicidal comedy. "Come on, that was funny! I'm funny!"

"If you say so, there's not very many people around to give you an honest opinion." It was true, the only other human like lifeforms impartially close by were Damon and Bonnie, and well, you weren't going to scurry back to them anytime soon. "And if you had poisoned me, then you would know that I would be fine and dandy in not so long, It wouldn't make a difference if that wasn't the case either, I mean I'm already dead, what could be worse than that?" Kai looked at you with shock; he didn't know that about you, that you had actually suffered a final breath. Now he thought about it, the grand scheme of things he didn't know much about you in general, though he was prepared to learn. He had often found death to be fulfilling, satisfying even, but he'd never thought about its victims being so beautiful. Yet here you were before him, by chance the one force that could motivate and help him find a way out of this jarring hole of reaping misery.

"You're here, that's all that matters." As soon as those words fled from his lips he realised exactly what he had said, and a blush framed his features. "I um - that wasn't what I - you know, yeah..." He scratched the back of his neck as you shook your head at this new side that you were seeing of Malakai. His parents called him Malakai, of course he was going to become a killer, but right now you saw nothing more than an embarrassed boy whose skin had flushed as an affect of his own words. From your experience, everyone was either the killer or the killed - you two were one of each. Like ying and yang, you fit perfectly, it was a balanced divide that was settled on whichever rhythm played out in the air. And to correspond with that thought you walked over to the jukebox, a song beginning to play which made Kai want to cover his ears. "I hate this song." He told you; he really did, if he could murder it, he would without a doubt.

"Then don't listen, just dance with me." You extended your hands out to him, to which he begrudgingly reached for. And as he snapped his eyes open, he realised that was all a memory, and that goddamn song was still playing. All he could think about was you, he had seen how upset you had been to die, and yet you were gone again, and it was all down to your so called friends. One was standing before him as he sat in chains, imprisoned against a chair. "Are you here to punish me?" He asked Bonnie, wanting nothing more than shut his eyes and see your face again.

334 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Title: Collared.

Pairing: Yandere!Malleus/Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Synopsis: Malleus’ biggest mistake was treating you as a lover would, rather than as a captor. Unfortunately, his patience is limited, and he can only spend so much time waiting for you to adjust before he resorts to stricter methods.

TW: Graphic Violence, Burning, Mentions Of Blood, Implied Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Unhealthy Relationships, Slight Bondage, Use Of Morally-Grey Magic, Emotional Manipulation, and Slight Victim-Blaming.

Your head was beginning to hurt.

It was the pressure, more than anything, the weight of a crown that you’d never wanted to wear, a crown that hadn’t been designed to accommodate someone without horns or wings or enough strength to make the strain bearable. It was a beautiful piece, objectively, a gift from a diplomat hoping to establish a relationship with Malleus shortly after his coronation, but the jewels were heavy, carved into ornate shapes and perched on top of needle-thin peaks, and although you’d been enthralled by the idea of wearing something that looked as delicate as ice, that swirled in impossible ways and curved angles human hands wouldn’t be able to attempt to achieve, the thin base dug into your scalp, and fashion in the Valley of Thorns was so layered, so limiting, the tiara only served as another annoyance you had to bear, another thing to push the air from your lungs and make your vision blur and force you onto the line between discomfort and active agony.

You’d tried to remove it while he met with his advisors, while Malleus spoke and all the attention was on him rather than his disagreeable human companion, but he’d caught you by the wrist the moment you tried, forcing your hand back into your lap before any of his courtiers could notice you’d move. He’d always been particular about the way you presented yourself, in front of him, in front of your subjects. It might’ve been because he took so much pride in doting on you, insisting on dressing you himself every morning and interpreting any refusal as willful disobedience. He might’ve just enjoyed making sure you were as aware of the power he had over you as he was. The latter was more likely, knowing the demeanor he’d taken on after he’d whisked you away to his kingdom, after he’d taken the throne and all the power in the county, with it. That would explain why he felt the need to keep an arm draped over your shoulders, now.

It would explain why he wouldn’t let go, despite your attempts to shake him off.

“They don’t mean you any harm,” He muttered, the voice kept low in order to escape the notice of his guards, trailing after him like ever-present shadows. “No one in this castle wants to see you suffer. You don’t have a reason to act as if they do.”

No one wanted to see you suffer, expect him. Malleus always seemed to forget that, when looking for the source of your irritation. “Everyone here treats me like your consort.”

There was a blink, then another. You could’ve groaned. “But, (Y/n), you are my consort--”

“Not because I want to be.” It was a hollow mantra, something you’d said time and time again. At your side, Malleus grimaced, and you tried to walk a little faster, fixing your eyes on the stone floor to avoid the concerned glances of the guards. “I’m a prisoner here, Malleus. Nothing you try to do will make me less of a prisoner, not when your methods are so…” You trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh. “Not when everything you do is so confining.”

“Everything I do, I do because I care for you,” He explained, taking on that indignant, scolding aire you’d always hated. He was never careless, but he’d never been so richeous, either. Not until he’d gotten an excuse to be. “If you think of yourself as a prisoner, there’s nothing I can do to remedy--”

It was moment of impulse, more of a fleeting idea than a genuine question. You might’ve regretted asking it at all, if something in the back of your head hadn’t started hammering against your skull at the thought of carrying on this conversation. “If I wanted to, would you let me leave?”

There was a slight pause, an alien silence as he stopped moving, his arm falling from your shoulders. “It would destroy me,” He mumbled, by way of excuse. “I don’t know if I’d be able to go on if you--”

“Would I be able to leave?” This time, you tried to be more forceful, more instant, but it came out wrong, brash, frustrated. One of the more devoted members of Malleus’ entourage took half a step towards you, but he was quickly waved off. “Would you let me go, or would you stop me?”

It was his turn to sigh, now. Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to pity him. “If it came to that, I wouldn’t have another choice, my love.”

That was all you needed to hear. By now, Malleus’ guards knew better than to stop you, only separating and letting you pass, your pace now fervid and your hand already in your hair, tearing at your crown, working at clasps and combs until the ornament came free and you could hear stone collide with metal, until it hit the floor and shattered, falling apart more suddenly than something so finely made should. “Then I’m a prisoner,” You snapped, not bothering to spare him a second glance as you fled down the hall. “And I don’t see a reason to listen to my captor’s advice.”

He didn’t move to follow you, and for once, you were thankful for his disregard.

At least you’d be able to deal with his scorn from a distance, for the rest of the day.

Your wrist was going to be sore, tomorrow.

If you were being honest with yourself, it was your own fault. You’d agitated him, and by bringing up the fact that you didn’t want to be here, that you didn’t love him, you’d made him paranoid, jealous, clingy, in the way a predator might cling to prey it couldn’t bring itself to kill. It must’ve comforted him, to keep a hand pressed against the small of you back or an arm around your waist, a fist wrapped around your forearm and his pointed, painted nails burrowed so far into your skin, you were scared he might draw blood if you tried to pull away. You should’ve been used to it, by now, the possessive way he held you. You’d had more than enough time to learn to tolerate it.

You’d had more than enough time, but that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?

You’d had more than enough time to come to terms with how little you wanted to tolerate it.

To your credit, you didn’t try to tear yourself away from him, not at first. All you did was slow down, tripping over your own feet on the uneven terrain of his courtyard before coming to a stop. You tried to avoid paying too much attention to the scenery whenever Malleus saw fit to take you farther than the castle walls, knowing how little you’d see of the outside world and how easy it was to miss, but you forced yourself to glare down at the weeds forcing themselves through well-worn cobblestone as Malleus glanced towards. It’d be easier if you didn’t meet his eyes. And, when he failed to ask, all you did was voice your thoughts, your tone as neutral as you could manage. “You’re hurting me.”

There was a beat of silence, a quick glance towards your wrist. When he let out a quiet, breathy laugh, you couldn’t stop yourself from deflating. “You should’ve said something,” He chastised, playfully. “It’s easy to forget how fragile humans can be, especially when they’re so rare. Silver would sooner bleed out than let Lilia fret over his injuries, and I can’t say you’re much better.”

And yet, he let you go. If anything, his grip only grew tighter, a pulsing ache soon forming under his palm. “Malleus, that’s nice, but--”

“Silver is considerate, though. If he bites his tongue, it’s only because he knows speaking would be more alarming than keeping quiet. I’m not sure where he picked up the trait, but that’s thoughtful of him, isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for an answer, only clamping down, watching with a small smile as your free hand shot to his wrist and you struggled not to cry out. Pulling away wasn’t an option, anymore. It was all you could do to keep your fingertips from going numb, let along tug your way out of his iron-clad grip. “I don’t really expect you to understand. You’ve been too unreasonable to see the point in sacrifice, lately.”

“I don’t have anything to sacrifice.” It was true, he wouldn’t have been able to deny that. What little you’d once had, he’d taken away. What you tried to keep to yourself, he pried from your arms without the slightest bit of shame. You knew that, and so did Malleus, somewhere in the back of his twisted, deluded mind. But, judging from the way his eyes narrowed as you went on, he didn’t care for the reminder. “You’re hurting me, is that what you want? Am I just supposed to grit my teeth and let you?”

There was the shortest hesitation, just a moment’s worth of reluctance. He opened his mouth, but you already had your answer. By the time he thought to lie, you were reeling back, digging your heels into the pavement and struggling in vain to wrench yourself away from him. “Let me go!” You didn’t try to keep your voice down. You didn’t care when a passing couple pretended not to stare and the nearest soldiers edged away from their post and Malleus scowled, his patience worn thin enough for his frustration to show. “You’re a monster--”

The air hitched in your throat before you could process why. Malleus hardly moved, but all it took was a click of his tongue and a glare only slightly more malicious than his usual glower and then, something white-hot and burning was searing itself into your skin, little more than a spark of what you knew he was capable of. It only lasted a second, most likely less than that, but the pain didn’t lessen as Malleus released you, allowing you the mercy of drawing your arm back into your chest and cradling your injury. The wound was raw, throbbing every time it made contact with the chilled air, your vision blurring at just the thought of touching it. If you hadn’t known better, you may’ve gone running to a healer out of instinct alone, but you had a feeling Malleus wasn’t in the mood to deal with that kind of defiance.

“Take this as a lesson,” He spat, the warning dripping with a venom you’d never heard from him. “I won’t be this kind, in the future. The burn will heal, but next time you insist I’m so awful, the damage won’t be as temporary. Do you understand?”

Slowly, you forced yourself to nod, earning an unimpressed scoff from Malleus. He accepted your lackluster submission, though, turning away and signaling you to follow with a slight, nonchalant wave. You moved to comply, but you hesitated before you started after him. You couldn’t help it.

You were injured, but he wasn’t holding onto you, anymore. He wasn’t dragging you around like a loyal mutt, forced onto a lead by an optimistic master. You were injured, but it’d worked.

Any amount of pain would’ve been worth it, if you’d finally found a way to get under his skin.

He was going to kill you.

You really hadn’t meant to lash out. You hadn’t meant to hurt him, but he’d startled you, caught you off guard while you were trying to fall asleep in a bed that was too soft and too decorative to appeal to faeries and the sparse, scattered hours they spend asleep. He’d put his hands on you, and you’d panicked. You’d felt his teeth on your neck, and for a moment, you hadn’t been able to think.

You hadn’t meant to, but now there were three thin, ragged scratches running from his cheek his jaw, the bottom-most still bleeding, and Malleus was going to kill you.

You tried to remedy the situation, while you still could. You’d never hurt him before, never affected him in a way left such tangible evidence, and to be honest, part of you still couldn’t believe you’d managed it. Malleus seemed to be stuck in a similar mindset, his lips parting slightly as his hand drifted from your hip to his cheek, tracing the jagged wound. He didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away from the contact, but that didn’t matter. Whether there was pain or not, you’d done something to harm him. That wasn’t an offense he was going to forgive easily.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--” You cut yourself off, sitting up before you could say another word, before you could make things worse for yourself. There was a dip in the mattress, a small shift in his posture, but you tried not to linger on the way his shoulder squared as you cupped the unmarried side of his face. “I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry, you just… I didn’t know what you were doing, and you know I don’t like it when you... I don’t like it when you touch me.”

“You cut me.” He sounded surprised, more shocked than he should’ve been. It made sense, for Malleus. He’d never liked to acknowledge that you could hurt him, let alone the possibility that you’d try to. “You cut me.”

“I-I know,” You tried, settling onto your knees in front of him. Suddenly, you were thankful he’d chosen wait until you were in bed. “But, it’s alright, you just need to--”

This time, he didn’t wait for you to finish. Before you could finish, his fingers were tangled in your hair, the heel of his palm pressed against your forehead. You almost wished their had been some kind of magic word - a spell, an incantation to give you an idea of his intentions. Instead, there was only the feeling of his nails digging into your scalp, a sourceless sense of confusion, and exhaustion. Pure, unadulterated exhaustion.

He didn’t even bother to catch you, as you collapsed.

Your throat was on fire, when you woke up.

It was a dry, cracked, excruciating sort of pain, the type that had curling into yourself and clutching at your neck and wondering if you should try to drink something or close your eyes or scream. You might’ve tried to. If you did, though, you couldn’t hear it, couldn’t feel it, not underneath that blend of acid and rust that seemed to coat your vocal cords. It was all you could to roll onto your side, to try to focus on something, rather than letting your vision blur and fade around the edges every time you thought about straining yourself. But, you’d regret that, too, when the thing lying beside you came into focus.

Or, the person, rather. If you could still call him that.

Malleus was awake, you had to assume he’d always been. Faeries didn’t need sleep, not like a human might, meaning he was conscious and aware and, when he noticed you staring up at him with an expression best described as ‘petrified’, he was able to smile, to smirk, to meet your eyes with all the composure he’d lacked, the last time you’d shared his company. It might’ve been hours ago, it might’ve been days ago, but you had no way of being certain. The black, satin sheets underneath you were still the same ones you’d crumpled onto, under his spell. The hearth on the other side of his bedroom was still lit, but it always was, an eerily green fire left to burn constantly in an effort to fight the pervasive darkness of his homeland. The only thing that might’ve changed was his appearance, his spotless white tunic now unbuttoned, his hair brushed away from his face, and in his hand, he toyed with something. A handle, maybe, a strip of dark strip of leather that, when you thought to check, led back in your direction. Reflexively, you brought a hand to the base of your neck, where the pain was at its worst.

Huh.

You really should’ve seen this coming.

A choker. That’s what it felt like, at least. A circlet of cold, polished metal pulled tight against your skin, made to swirl and branch out in a way that, almost ironically, made you think of the thornbushes Malleus had always been so fond of. As far as you could tell, there wasn’t a buckle, no latch or pin that’d let you remove the contraption without freeing yourself of your head, in the process. You couldn’t see its color or its size, but you were thankful for that. Just imagining the way it must look, a collar and a leash and the pathetic, weakened mortal forced into it…

Quickly, you decided not to linger on the thought, and to concentrate on finding a way out of it, instead.

You held onto your side of the tether, hoping beyond hope that you’d just jumped to the wrong conclusion. “What is this?”

The words came out soft, just bordering on inaudible, but Malleus was close enough to hear. At first, he only hummed, scanning over you idly, evaluating your current state. You must’ve been unconscious for more than a day, at least. Clearly, his rage had time to cool into something much more dangerous than impulsive wrath. “I thought this would be… appropriate.” You hated the way he spoke, with rehearsed inflections and a practiced stiltedness. As if there was a reason to pretend he wasn’t satisfied with his work. “I didn’t have another option. You’ve been acting out so often and… What’s the phrase mortals are so fond of? Biting the hand that pets you?”

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” You muttered, absently. The numb realization came first, but the anger was quick to follow. Quick to overwhelm, despite your better judgement. “I’m not a fucking dog--”

As soon as you started to raise your voice, he pulled your cord taut, jerking you forward and causing the metal around your neck to contract, just enough to press into your skin. You didn’t even get a chance to ask what he’d done. It wasn’t just pain, anymore. It wasn’t just a flame being held against your arm, or your thigh, or whatever part of you Malleus decided he loved the least, that day. It was a puncture, an injection, something that forced itself into your body and refused to withdraw. It was something driving itself under your skin and writhing, a parisite curling around your collarbone and biting. Your hands shot back to your collar, clawing at the seamless metal, but as far as you could tell, it hadn’t moved. It hadn’t done anything. There was nothing to fight against, nothing to dig your nails into, no blood or bruise or mark. Just the slightest bit of warmth and Malleus hovering over you, rubbing small, shallow circles into your shoulder and making your lungs tighten in your chest, making it more impossible to breath with every passing second.

It was almost worse when it stopped, when Malleus sighed and dropped your leash and you were able to gasp for air. This time, Malleus was there to catch you, to guide your head against his chest as he cooed sweet, contented nothings. You’d almost forgotten how cruel magic could be, in the wrong hands.

You’d almost forgotten how sadistic he could be, with the right incentives.

“It’s not that bad, is it? There’s never going to be a wound, but I tried to make sure it would hurt. Just enough to let you see how I feel, every time you find a new way to break my heart.” There was a languid sigh, a shake of his head. You had to lock your jaw into place just to keep from calling him another awful name, just to keep from earning yourself another pull and another minute of whatever method of torture he’d come up with. “I can’t trust you to behave for the sake of your own safety. This was the only way, my love. If I can’t trust you to love me…” There was a brief pause, a light kiss pushed into your temple. Regretful, but not remorseful. Apologetic, but more sorry he chose to imprison someone so stubborn than for the lengths he was willing to go to, if it meant controlling your temper. You couldn’t say you were surprised, but your disappointment would’ve been impossible to ignore.

Although, you didn’t have much time to linger on the feeling as Malleus took up your cord, wrapping it around his fist as he went on.

“You’ll just have to learn to fear me, instead.”

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aurabird · 3 years

Text

Desperation

What does one do when your own memories are your weakness?

You forget even if it costs you everything you know.

Sausage has no other options left.

Not gonna lie, this one hurt me emotionally to write.

Tw: Mentions of cruelty and memory wiping (consensual). As usual though its not super graphic

Link to Ao3

-----------------------

Sausage ran through dense foliage of the jungle in a panic, not caring about anything else other than just getting far, far, away from Mythland at all costs and sticking to the treeline so that he didn’t risk getting too close to the Lost Empire.

His lungs burned, his legs ached, his body was screaming at him to stop and rest. But he couldn’t rest, not now, not after finally managing to get control of his own mind. He...he didn’t know how long he’d be lucid like this, he didn’t know how long it’d be before he was imprisoned within his own consciousness and forced to watch as it used him to do horrible things to his friends...his family.

He was there when Xornoth tortured Fwhip, watched as the demon inflicted pain on the man he had come to call a brother in attempts to corrupt. Veins of crimson pulsating under the Count's skin in branching webs.

He was there when Xornoth played mind games with Gem, trying to break her spirit, trying to get into her head and control her to.

And he was there when Kathrine begged for mercy as the iron shackles burned her wrists and ankles due to her fae blood while the demon laughed at her misery and suffering, trying to crush her will so she’d surrender and join him willingly.

The amethyst roofs of crystal cliffs came into view, a ray of hope in the darkness giving him the adrenaline he needed.

He dodged the magic fired at him by the guards, he should have known that she’d put out the command to attack him on sight. He didn’t care when a warning beacon was lit, he didn’t care that he was currently the most wanted person in the empire.

Sausage ducked and wove between trees and buildings, hid in hollows and overhangs as he scaled the mountain leading up to the Head Wizard’s tower. He couldn’t get caught, they’d kill him if he was.

The mountain peaks were cold and sent a shiver through him, his warlock attire not designed for the freezing temperatures. Still, he pressed on.

By the time he reached the giant door he collapsed on his knees in exhaustion and knocked weakly.

Please...please let her have heard it...

Warmth hit him as the door opened and he was met with Gem standing in the frame. Her face was a mix of different emotions; confusion, shock, fear...hatred.

“G-Gem...h-help me...please...I don’t know...how long I have...before...it...”

He didn’t have the strength to finish his plea, collapsing forward into the snow from exhaustion. His instincts were telling him to go to sleep and rest, but he knew that the moment he closed his eyes that he’d next wake up not himself.

Time moved slowly for him as he struggled to stay conscious. One moment he was on freezing snow, the next he was on a couch before a fire.

Something was pressed to his lips and Sausage drank what was offered to him; the burning, bitter-sweet taste of a strength potion going down his throat before beginning to take effect.

“Sausage? Sausage can you hear me?” Gem asked, worry yet caution in her voice.

"I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I’m sorry!” he recited, his voice cracking, “I didn’t want to free it! I never wanted to free it! I just...I just wanted...I just wanted to have SOMETHING, some kind of power to call my own! It...it promised me I would if I helped make it stronger and...and by the time I realized it was lying to me...it already could take control of my body like a puppet!”

“Sausage...it’s alright, calm down. Deep breaths, in and out.”

He followed the instructions given to him and slowly, his panic died down, he could think clearly...he could think for himself.

That is when he noticed that it wasn’t just Gem in the room with him, Fwhip stood at her side, his expression a mix of different emotions.

“Better?” Gem asked, he gave a nod in reply. “Ok, good. Care to explain what exactly is going on?”

Sausage told them everything. How Xornoth took advantage of his nativity when it came to magic and his desire to have power of his own. How sometimes he had control over his body, and that other times it was all the demon’s influence. Sometimes he just wasn’t in control at all and under possession.

“...what do you want me to do, Sausage?”

He sighed, “It uses your memories and emotions against you through manipulation, that’s how it takes control.” his gaze met hers, desperation burning in them, “Gem, it can’t take control...if I have nothing for it to exploit.”

Horror and realization filled the duo’s eyes, “Sausage...” Gem breathed, “You...you realize what you’re asking me to do?”

He nodded, “I do, and the very thought of it terrifies me. But if it means keeping you all safe...I’m willing to make the sacrifice.”

“One Hell of a sacrifice, Sausage.” Fwhip stated bluntly.

“Gem, Fwhip, I’m tired and I want to sleep; but the second I close my eyes it will take control again and next time, it won’t give me a window to escape from. Please, do it for me.”

He saw Gem was on the verge of tears, “You know there’s no other option.”

Silence.

“What...do you want us to tell you when you wake up?”

“Anything that cannot be traced back to Mythland. Keep me from going there at all costs.”

“We promise, Sausage.”

“Thank you, Gem, Fwhip; for everything in this life, even if I may never remember it...and everyone else too. Tell anyone you know you can trust that I’m sorry”

That is when the wizard launched herself at him, embracing him in a hug, Fwhip so following suit. One final hug as family.

“I’m ready. You can do it.”

Gem backed away from him and grabbed her spellbook off the small desk near the couch. Her eyes and the amethyst on her staff glowing brightly as she began to speak.

ᒲᒷᒲ𝙹∷╎ᒷᓭ !¡∷ᒷᓵ╎𝙹⚍ᓭ, ᒲᒷᒲ𝙹∷╎ᒷᓭ ↸ᒷᔑ∷ ℸ ̣ ᔑꖌᒷ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷᒲ ᔑ∴ᔑ||, ᔑꖎ𝙹リ⊣ ∴╎ℸ ̣ ⍑ ᔑꖎꖎ ⎓ᒷᔑ∷

A beam of purple light shot from the focus of the staff like a beacon, the beam phasing harmlessly through Sausage’s forehead.

Like the sensation one would experience as they died, he watched with a sad smile as his life played before him in fast forward, going through every memory he had up until now...

...then, darkness. Blissful, welcoming, darkness.

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

Translation for the Galactic:

“memories precious, memories dear take them away, along with all fear”

#empires smp #empiresblr #fwhip #mythical sausage #geminitay #may write the PoV for Gem/Fwhip #but not entirely certain

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wipbigbang · 3 years

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2021 Round - Artists Claims (Round 2)

Round 2 of claims for artists are open! The second round will go this week and then I'll post a new round on Thursday, opening it up for thirds. Everybody spread the word! We have 70 story summaries below for you to choose from, and this round, you may choose 2 stories to do art for! Just use a different check in ID with each sign-up.

This year, art claims are working a little differently than in years past. We are using a google form to streamline things, which should make things easier both for you as participants and us mods. To claim a story, the form requires email, check in ID, and the identifying number of your first choice of story. Putting your top three choices is best in case your first or second has already been chosen. Please be sure you've read the FAQ before claiming.

Click here to claim a story!

Sherlock Holmes (ACD Canon) #59 Title: Designation: H Pairing/Characters Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, John Watson/Mary Morstan (mentioned), Mycroft Holmes, young (~10 years old) Victor Trevor (mentioned), and with appearances from teenaged (14-18 years old) versions of: Dorian Gray, Reginald Jeeves, A.J. Raffles and Bunny Manders, Hercule Poirot, Jane Marple, The Phantom of the Opera, James Bond, Tom Ripley, Nero Wolfe, Father Brown, Harley Quin (Agatha Christie), Mr. Satterthwaite (Agatha Christie), Ernst Stavro Blofeld (Ian Fleming), Jason Rafiel (Agatha Christie), the killer from “And Then There Were None” (Agatha Christie), and a very loose adaptation of Gregory House (House M.D.). Rating: Mature Warnings/Tags: Graphic Violence, corporal punishment, violence to and by children, eugenics. I’m a little bit squeamish about the violence, it’s there, but I don’t linger on it too much and I ask that the art not linger on it too much either. Also, no sex please (there’s none in the fic). Summary One minute, Watson is hurrying back along the path from Reichenbach falls, afraid that Holmes has indeed met his fate against the dreaded Professor Moriarty. The next thing he knows, he awakens in the infirmary of the strange Prometheus Institute, unsure whether it was all a nightmare or terrible reality. However, he quickly finds that the real nightmare is only just beginning; both he and Holmes - mercifully alive - are imprisoned along with two dozen young men behind the bars of a circular cell block, where their every move is observed by guards tasked with maintaining discipline and overseeing their training as the next step in human evolution. During the day they are trained in combat and put through complicated exercises in manipulation and subterfuge. At night they are trained in stealth; they must evade the guards and best each other in further exercises, which pit gang against gang. Watson soon learns the dark secret behind their abduction: Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes - and Victor Trevor - were raised in the Prometheus Institute, but the brothers escaped (around age 10-12). Now, it has caught up with them, and Holmes and Watson’s only hope of getting out alive is to overcome the shadows of their pasts and work with the violent, manipulative young prisoners. Inspired by umisabaku's fanfiction, Designation: Miracle.

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connorgoldie604 · 3 years

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Artist Research

Tetsuo Aoki (1940 - unknown)

"The theme of my artwork is to express the pleasure, the deepness and the importance of touching each other. The original world of woodblock with Japanese paper (Washi) and Chinese ink (Sumi) is my basis."

Tetsuo Aoki – 青木鐵男 is a Japanese woodblock printmaker, who was born in 1940. He utilises wood to engrave his designs and uses a black and white colour scheme consistently throughout his prints.

His elongated, disproportional and overstretched characters immediately caught my eye and he is now one of my biggest inspirations. I love the layouts he uses and the overall distorted aesthetic of his work. Aoki’s graphic style is far from ordinary. He utilizes defined shapes and little shadowing which creates a sense of sentimentality.

Bryan Nash Gill (1961 - 2013)

"Art is (or should be) an authentic experience, which brings you closer to understanding yourself in relation to your surroundings." - Bryan Nash Gill

Bryan creates large-scale relief prints from the cross-sections of trees. It is up to us as viewers to find meaning in Bryans art. Personally, I find his art both beautiful and thought-provoking; it portrays the idea of growth and change yet makes me think about sustainability and the living things that surround us humans.

Bryan believes that the journey is more important than the destination; "Strict concentration on the making, the process, is more important than the result." His take on the process of art is almost a metaphor for all things organic - he lived in the moment and did not let his thoughts guide him.

Gill creates patterns from fallen or damaged trees which he rescues from the property surrounding his studio. He prepares blocks of recycled wood, coats it in a thin layer of ink then makes prints by carefully pressing the contours of the wood until the intricate designs transfer from tree to paper. It is important to Gill that the entire tree and all it’s intricisies is documented.

Hulya Ozdemir

“I think my paintings are timeless. My portraits do not remain imprisoned in a single statement. Their gazes are changing, just like us. One day in the same picture is sad, another day is possible to see a happy face.” - Hulya Ozdemir

Hulya Ozdemir is an illustrator and painter of watercolor portraits who was born in Istanbul, Turkey in 1972. Hulya focuses predominantly on female portraits and showcases women becoming self confident and breaking out of social norms created by a make-dominated society. Hulya does not sketch her work beforehand, she draws directly onto paper, adds patterns and then paints; “I can say, I rarely know what will happen in the next step.”

Her work displays womens beauty and individuality through the use of texture, bold colours and many patterns. Her use of colour, pattern and texture stould out to me, and I used it as inspiration for a mixed media print.

Glenn Jones

Glenn Jones found internet fame in the 2000s with his unique T-shirt designs. His tees have even be worn by stars on the Big Bang Theory. He is an illustrator who’s work is now being published as prints. Glenns collection of prints are inspired by growing up and living in NZ, he has stated that he want’s to put “my own spin on our pop culture”.

His prints are some what comedic, he depicts relatable Kiwi experiences with a humorous touch. One source states “his prints are a statement in a picture about our collective identities and the shared experiences of living in Aotearoa in the early 21st century.” His kiwiana style and clever twists with a touch of nostalgia is inspiring. I find his work both quirky and fun.

Barry Ross Smith

"I like to create a rapport with the viewer by playing with our reminiscences. Creating icons from our shared Kiwi past, the beach, the bach, the farm but mostly the people. We can identify with these characters as family, friends or someone we know." - Barry Ross Smith

Barry Ross Smith is a visual artist born in Kamo, Northland, New Zealand. When he first started producing art his medium was sign writing, and he has now been painting for over 25 years. As stated by New Zealand Fine Prints Ltd; “His work typically engages with the conception of myth and cultural identity, often exploring these avenues from a New Zealand male’s perspective.”His art is inspired by the relationship between individuals and their immediate environment, specifically our communion with the land & encompassing oceans. His work has been described as “hymns to rural New Zealand … tellingly observed and cleverly rendered” by NZ Hearld Critic TJ Mcnamara.

I admire Barry because his work showcases our beautiful land and animals. Aswell as how work, Barry inspires me as a person. He is involved with Pest free NZ; and helps restore native wildlife from extinction. He values New Zealand land not only in his work but in his day to day life, which I find extremely inspiring as I value sustainability and our saving our environment. I also find his use of surrealism and kiwiana themes interesting as it is something I want to experiment with in the future.

Tony Ogle

"Screen-printing allows me to express my love of the New Zealand landscape and ocean environment with strong colours in a direct and graphic manner".

Tony Ogle was born in 1959 and is one of New Zealand's most successful printmakers. Ogle’s prints are full of colour, vibrant and celebrates New Zealands coastal landscapes. His works are extremely technically complex and handmade, with only one edition ever produced. Ogle’s joyful prints celebrates the Kiwi beach life and showcases his authentic connection with New Zealand coastal landscapes.

He is inspired by locations off the beaten track and untouched stitches of the NZ coastlines that portray "unchanged timelessness". Tony strives to capture what he calls a "sense of place" in his art prints.

His work is inspiring since I can relate to it as a Kiwi and I admire how he uses texture to convey a sense of calmness, he perfectly captures Aotearoas essence.

Charles Frederick Goldie

Charles Frederick Goldie was born in Auckland, New Zealand, on 20 October 1870. He is an ancestor of mine, who painted Māori history paintings and portraits of tattooed chiefs. His paintings have been turned into many prints nowadays, I’ve even seen his paintings on postcards and magnets whilst travelling the South Island.

Goldie's career began in 1900 when he started painting images depicting elderly Māori with moko, the 'noble relics of a noble race'. By 1904 Goldie was considered the leading portrait painter of Māori, and was renowned for his technical brilliance. His portraits have become vitally significant to New Zealand art.

Goldie feared that Māori were about to die out or be assimilated by the pakeha so he set out to record the last survivors. This is reinforced through the poses of his elderly subjects and the titles of many of his paintings eg; Last of the Cannibals, A Noble Relic of a Noble Race. Two of his most celebrated works, Darby and Joan and The Widow, portray Goldie’s awareness of the hardships Maori were experiencing. Many Māori individuals see Goldie's works as taonga which represents irreplaceable ancestral images of koroua and kuia. Māori believe the wairua( spirit) of the subject resides in each picture.

I am inspired by Goldie not only because I feel a cultural connection to him but because of his love for Māori culture. His paintings are full of intricate details, and his paintings often look like they can breathe which I find incredible.

Lauren Liess

A crooked smile, wildflowers from the side of the road, a chip in the good china; I love it when things are slightly off and tell a story, because to me, that’s real life. And it’s beautiful.

Lauren Liess is an interior designer who’s style I find inspiring and aesthetic. What caught my eye is her use of prints and nature in her interior design. Her style is simple, relaxed and authentic. She utilizes natural materials, thoughtful art and decor that focuses on people rather than things.

She has a toes-in-the-stream aesthetic and is obsessed with the outdoors, “I’m obsessed with what’s going on outside,” and utilizes a black, white and wood pallet paired with lots of greenery, “When you bring in bits of nature …artwork, interesting accents and fabrics, [the colors are] a museum showcase for it. It’s a textural, natural base.”

I relate to her as we are both inspired by the outdoors. I also like how she incorporates living plants and wood into her modern style.

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thecrownnet · 4 years

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‘The Crown’ Season 4 Review: It’s to Di For

Ann Donahue, IndieWire Nov 9, 2020

*Spoilers*

In a case of art imitating life, the addition of Princess Diana to the Netflix series revitalizes the Royal Family.

[Editor’s Note: The following review contains spoilers for Season 4 of “The Crown” and British history between 1979-1990.]

Like the good public school types that they are, the British Royal Family isn’t above a bit of hazing to those who seek to enter its inner circle.

It’s known as “The Balmoral Test” and involves diligent bouts of outdoorsy activity at the Queen’s castle in Scotland. (Traipsing over steep hills in the mud! Stalking stags to kill! Wearing tartans unironically!)

Season 4 of “The Crown” debuts November 15 on Netflix, and early on you learn Margaret Thatcher wore high heels, brought a briefcase and a sneer to Balmoral, and unequivocally, catastrophically failed the test. Diana Spencer wore boots, bangs, and a sweet smile, and passed with flying colors.

In the end, though, they both lose the bigger game of conquering The Firm.

After a subpar Season 3, it turns out that what this ongoing narrative of Queen Elizabeth really needed was an enemy — or two. In a season with the most pop culture audience pressure riding on it — because of the Princess Diana factor, there is no doubt that people who have never watched a single second of “The Crown” before now will tune in — Peter Morgan’s show delivers its best yet.

With the addition of Thatcher, played to gritty, galling Iron Lady perfection by Gillian Anderson, and Diana, a near-impossible role that Emma Corrin makes look effortless without descending into hagiography, “The Crown” gives a riveting look at a decade that codified callous excess in the characters’ public and private lives.

Instead of the world being seen through others’ eyes and leaving Olivia Colman on the margins to react — as she was left to do in Season 3 — Colman is now allowed to own the monarch’s authority in her performance. And with foils like Anderson and Corrin, all three turn in very brittle and beautiful performances.

The great fear was that the Prime Minister vs. Sovereign face-offs between Anderson and Colman could be reduced to tropes: either “It’s Girl Power time, Tory style!” or “Oooh catfight!” Thankfully, this is avoided entirely by letting both actors show their chops in the most understated and devastating ways at their command.

Morgan was the playwright for 2013’s “The Audience,” which envisioned the weekly meetings between the Queen and her long history of Prime Ministers, and it won Tonys for Helen Mirren (playing guess who) and Richard McCabe as Prime Minister Harold Wilson. Colman has extensive stage experience, most recently in “Mosquitoes” at the Royal National Theatre in London in 2017. Anderson has three Laurence Olivier Award nominations, including one for 2019’s production of “All About Eve.”

As a result, the scenes between these two are a study in the subtleties of power dynamics and differences in upbringing that are framed to read as beautifully on a TV screen as it would on the West End. What you see is Anderson as Thatcher curtsying particularly deeply at a certain moment, or Colman as the Queen making a calculated move to end the audience. What you understand is that Thatcher doesn’t get why someone with an inherited title should hold more power than her, and the Queen’s firm resolve to keep Thatcher in her place.

Yes, yes, yes, contemplating the wounds caused by the vicissitudes of the British class system is all well and good, let’s please get to the part about Prince Charles and Lady Di, rich people in doomed love. Or “Whatever love means?” as Charles agonizingly asked at his engagement press event as Diana wilted beside him. This famously public cringe-moment is recreated in “The Crown,” and it’s one of the reasons why this long has been the timeframe where the show stood the most risk of devolving into shadow puppetry.

The Charles and Di moments have been covered a million times in various news clips and documentaries; you can see the entirety of the terrible engagement interview at a moment’s notice via YouTube. Great credit is due to Josh O’Connor as Charles, Corrin as Diana, and Emerald Fennell as Camilla Parker Bowles, as they all find layered emotional textures to enrich the footage that’s been part of the pop culture vernacular for decades.

Corrin, in particular, does a hell of a job. This is not a Diana with a sad-princess-imprisoned-in-a-tower sheen — several episodes open with content warnings due to the graphic depiction of her disordered eating. The show doesn’t play coy: Diana was a particularly child-like very young woman who checked all the boxes for “virginal beautiful young princess” — and beyond that perfect-on-paper resume there wasn’t a second thought given to her mental health. She is shown without the emotional capacity or maturity to understand that this isn’t a love story; it’s a job to fill the global complexities of a role in a chilly, treacherous family.

Corrin pulls no punches; her Diana is winsome and frustrating, sweet and calculating. She is savvy and silly and petulant. She is world famous but starved for attention. Corrin spins around to the point of collapse as she dances, all desperate, keening, frenetic energy and no joy. It’s a complex portrayal of a complex person, one that is fully aware of the mythology that surrounds the character but isn’t weighed down by it.

Diana was an Instagram royal decades before there was such a thing, and it’s through gestures like famously hugging a child with HIV in the hospital that the princess tried to kill the Crown with her kindness. It’s something a perpetually battle-ready Thatcher would never conceive of doing — but it’s also something The Queen would never consider. But why shouldn’t they? What do we expect of our hallowed institutions, and why? If we can envision better, more humane treatment, why don’t we require it?

These are weighty questions, and they are asked in a show relentless in its ability to propagate its characters’ power through setting and spectacle. It goes without saying that the production design, hair and makeup, and costumes remain outstanding on “The Crown” — there is a reason the show is undefeated during its three-season run at the Emmys in the category of Outstanding Period Costumes.

The streak should continue this year if for nothing else than the combination of creating a wedding dress inspired by Princess Diana’s voluminous meringue and the true-to-life pink plaid ensemble the lonely princess wears to roller skate around Buckingham Palace. (Corrin also at one point wears a sweater with llamas embroidered on it — also based on an outfit Diana wore. The ‘80s were a lot.)

Beyond reveling in the tawdry candy-colored tale of Charles and Di, Morgan’s writing on the show routinely explores notions of classicism, privilege, sexism, and racism. But this time around, the undercurrents surface in a way that is timely, incisive, and, ultimately, more pointed and hopeful: If England can survive 11 years of Margaret Thatcher as Prime Minister, the United States will survive four of President Donald J. Trump and the craven GOP leadership.

This isn’t a particularly sunny take. The cruel deprivation, degradation, and devastation wrought by the Thatcher years is the basis of several episodes over the course of the season. A war was started out of preposterous personal motivation (Shout-out to former President George W. Bush! Some of us haven’t forgotten that you’re a war criminal!); institutional racism was bolstered and emboldened for oligarchical profit; public resources were diverted from the marginalized in the righteously cold-blooded notion that there is no implicit bias in society, it’s just that some are lazy and choose to suffer.

All of this is familiar. Very painfully, infuriatingly familiar. But as “The Crown” in this season shows, with a steel spine and ice in its veins, the Monarchy was built to withstand whatever onslaught comes its way.

So are we.

Grade: A

“The Crown” Season 4 will be available Friday, November 15 on Netflix.

#olivia colman #tobias menzies #gillian anderson #helena bonham carter #the crown #the crown spoilers #peter morgan #josh o’connor #emma corrin #emerald fennell #the crown netflix #The crown season 4

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musashi · 3 years

Note

Do you expect something from the Skyward port?

Like a new feature better graphics? More Fi?

there’s definitely gotta be SOMETHING considering nintendo added a lot of cool little details to oothd/mmhd/tphd/wwhd... but i can’t say what additional features i expect them to cook up hehe.

baseline i’d just want some QOL! even fans of skyward sword agree the sky is pretty barren so i’d enjoy more stuff to do up there. more islands to visit! one thing i’d REALLY like is the ability to fly at night? link’s not a graduated knight but he’s literally a senior so i don’t see why they can’t throw some night goggles for his loftwing in as a milestone. like it would make perfect sense in the story!

fast travel to some extent would be good. the bird statues are fine, but an autosave would be better. the swimming/flying being mapped to the wiimote kinda sucked originally i would like that to go away WITHOUT having to switch to nonmotion because i like the motion otherwise! dowsing for tadtones should be a thing from the beginning not a random thing Fi remembers in the middle of it ghdghgf.

the graphics already look LEAGUES better from the trailers (i cant get over how SMOOTH everything is!) and i kinda like them as they are. i wasn’t actually a fan of the bloom effect they did for wind waker and i REALLY wasn’t a fan of it on twipri because the light effects in that game already made me nauseous xD im glad they didnt do that for skyward and just kept it as it was with better framerates/more polygons, skyward is already a beautiful game and graphically i really wouldn’t change much about it.

i always want more Fi, but actually my hope for skyward is “the same amount of Fi.” i am very scared of the critical reception to Fi turning her into something the player is allowed to ignore. Fi’s expository nature is a character choice, not a game design choice, and my biggest fear is nintendo losing sight of that. i don’t want them to crumble in the wake of everyone who thinks Fi is too present or talks too much--all her dialogue in the game is critical to her character, and I think it’s ingenuine to take that away. i have no reason to suspect they’ll do this, ESPECIALLY after breath of the wild, i’m just... worried.

i think it would be really sexy if we just cut the second imprisoned fight altogether! fuck the second imprisoned fight fghfhg (thats a joke. i will always suffer thru it... for groose...)

#Anonymous #wendy answers

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Marvel’s Black Widow: MCU Easter Eggs and References Guide

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article contains Black Widow spoilers. We have a spoiler-free review here.

The MCU is finally back on the big screen! Marvel’s Black Widow was supposed to be the official kickoff of Phase 4 of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but then the pandemic happened, it got bounced around the release calendar, and Disney managed to release three MCU TV shows before Natasha got to take her curtain call on the big screen.

But that’s thankfully behind us, and Black Widow delivers terrific blockbuster action in the mighty Marvel manner. And you know what that means! Let’s try and spot all the cool MCU references and Marvel Comics Easter eggs in Black Widow.

The Prologue

Setting this prologue in 1995 gives us the approximate age of Natasha. If she’s supposed to be about 11 or 12 here, that conveniently makes the character the same age as Scarlett Johannsson, who was born in 1984.

The general premise of Natasha’s childhood, in which she was the daughter of two Russian spies is highly similar to that of the FX series The Americans.

This seems to be the late summer of 1995, which puts it roughly around when Captain Marvel was taking place (the official word on that is 1995, but little details in it, like Stan Lee reading a Mallrats screenplay could place it in 1994).

Young Natasha is played by Ever Anderson – the daughter of actress Milla Jovovich and Event Horizon director Paul W. S. Anderson. You will not be able to unsee her resemblance to Milla.

The first song choice in the movie is young Yelena’s fixation on Don McLean’s fixation on “American Pie,” a song about (among other things) the death of Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and “The Big Bopper” J.P. Richardson. That being said, “American Pie” is about a larger loss of innocence, a theme that weighs heavily throughout this film.

Before Alexei turns the radio off to play “American Pie”, the station is set to 105.1 FM. This is WQXK, a country station based in Salem, Ohio that serves the Youngstown market. Natasha and Yelena’s American home is likely based in Eastern Ohio.

There’s an episode of DuckTales playing on TV in the background while they have dinner. We can’t tell what episode it is, but DuckTales ruled, and the new series was even better. And hey, we get some payoff later in the movie when they play an aircraft crash for laughs while having everyone just casually walk it off.

Alexei was working undercover in the US at the North Institute, which he burned to the ground before making his escape. In Black Widow Vol 3 #1, Natasha decided to retire to Arizona but she and other Red Room victims were hounded by the North Institute. Spurred to investigate the situation, Natasha returned to Russia where she discovered much of the terrible truth behind her past Red Room manipulation. This was a story that also featured Yelena (and Daredevil, believe it or not).

There’s definitely an early SHIELD logo on the trucks chasing the family to the very end there.

The plane number is 258. In Incredible Hulk #258, we get the first appearance of the Soviet Super-Soldiers (later named the Winter Guard), a communist superhero team created for the sake of rivaling the Avengers. The original lineup was Ursa Major (more on him in a minute), Darkstar, Vanguard, and the fifth Crimson Dynamo (more on this, too). Over time, Red Guardian joined their ranks, though it was Josef Petkus and not Alexei Shostakov.

This is a perfect cold open, the kind that James Bond movies excelled at, and it’s far from the only Bond parallel we’ll get in the film.

The Opening Credits

There’s all kinds of stuff happening in the opening credits, including the film’s villain Dreykov being inserted into photos with various world leaders, including President Bill Clinton, President George W. Bush’s Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice, and others. The Red Room’s influence knows no national boundaries, it seems.

The overall effect is to imply that Dreykov and the Widows have been putting their fingers on the scale for quite some time.

It’s also a nice touch that many of the “news broadcasts” we see here are from MCU staple WHIH.

There’s a shot of some vials with blue liquid, which allude to the Red Room’s attempt to create Captain America-esque super soldiers, which they succeeded with to some degree with the Red Guardian, but also makes us wonder if they tried enhancing any earlier Widows.

Smells Like Teen Spirit

The opening credits are set to a version of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Malia J. You may have heard her covers of Seal’s “Crazy” and Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth” in trailers for shows like Bloodlines and The Handmaid’s Tale.

We wrote more about the Black Widow version of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” here.

When Does Black Widow Take Place?

This movie takes place in 2016, shortly after the events of Captain America: Civil War. General “Thunderbolt” Ross (William Hurt) is here to remind us all that Natasha is still in trouble with the government.

What’s kind of neat about this is that it’s the first Marvel “prequel” that feels like it is designed to be watched in its chronological sequence (minus that post-credits scene, of course). Captain America: The First Avenger makes more sense as a flashback interlude between Thor and The Avengers, while Captain Marvel makes more sense as a breather between Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame. But Black Widow feels like it should be watched right after Civil War.

Thunderbolt Ross

Natasha brings up Ross having his second triple bypass. In Captain America: Civil War, Ross talks about how he had his first heart attack while playing golf and it gave him perspective and convinced him to retire from the US Army. It seems chasing down Cap’s allies hasn’t been so good for his health.

Red Guardian

We know that Alexei has been active as Red Guardian since at least 1983 or 1984 based on the tales of fighting Captain America he tells while in jail. He was apparently sent to the USA for undercover work in 1992, and then imprisoned a few years after their 1995 escape back to Russia.

Red Guardian’s knuckle tattoos say “Karl Marx” which is kind of adorable but…shouldn’t they be in Cyrillic/Russian characters and not Latin/English? Is this to troll his capitalist opponents so they can read them as he beats their asses?

Red says he fought Captain America in 1983 or 1984. The simplest explanation is that he’s lying but…what if he isn’t?

Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he’s telling the truth and there really was yet another secret Captain America active in the ‘80s. Now that The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is done, we know that there was at least one “replacement Cap” and the comics indicate there were others. Or maybe it’s just Steve in the timestream…maybe we’ll find out one day, but we wrote much more about some possibilities for this here.

Ursa

Red Guardian breaks the arm of a man named Ursa… Ursa Major (Mikhail Ursus) is the name of another Russian superhero in Marvel Comics, whose mutant power caused him to turn into a literal talking bear. He became a staple member of the Soviet Super Soldiers/Winter Guard along with a Red Guardian. While the movie doesn’t depict him like the comics, Red Guardian does joke about him being a bear.

Taskmaster

This is a very different version of Taskmaster than the one we got in the comics. Marvel Comics Taskmaster has “photographic reflexes” and is a man named Anthony Masters. Here, in addition to the new gender (Dreykov’s daughter is named “Antonia” as a nod to the comics character), Taskmaster is cybernetically enhanced to make those “photographic reflexes a little easier.

There is precedent for a female Taskmaster. The series Deadpool MAX reimagined Deadpool in a cynical, dark, and very adult (albeit absurd and humorous) way. This lent itself to Deadpool-adjacent characters. Taskmaster was depicted as a woman roughly in her ‘50s who trained Deadpool and warped his mind.

There’s also Finesse, a member of Avengers Academy, whose powers are so similar to Taskmaster that she believes him to be her biological father. Unfortunately, due to memory problems, Taskmaster doesn’t know for sure and refuses to offer any DNA to find out the answer.

In the course of Taskmaster’s action scenes, we see her mimic a number of Marvel heroes, with a particular focus on those who played a part in the recent (by this movie’s timeline) Captain America: Civil War including Hawkeye, Captain America, Black Panther, and even Natasha.

We have more on Taskmaster here.

Who is Mason?

Rick Mason first appeared in his own 1989 graphic novel called Rick Mason: The Agent. Mason was a SHIELD agent mostly remembered for being the son of Phineas Mason, the Tinkerer. Granted, the Tinkerer we saw in Spider-Man: Homecoming isn’t nearly old enough to be Rick’s father in the movies and he looks nothing like him, so I wouldn’t expect any secret connection.

In the comics, Rick was practically forgotten about and killed off-panel. His son was one of the victims of Nitro’s explosion in Stamford, Connecticut from the beginning of the Marvel Comics version of Civil War.

Melina Vostokoff

The Melina Vostokoff of the MCU is pretty different from the one in Marvel Comics (who created by Ralph Macchio and George Perez in 1983). There, she was known as (we shit you not) Iron Maiden, and she was at least a former Widow-esque agent as she is here in the film.

Yelena Belova

Yelena and Natasha’s first meeting being over a bio-weapon/agent is very faintly similar to Yelena’s proper introduction in the comics, a 1999 Black Widow comics story where they were explicitly fighting over a bioweapon, not a “mind control antidote” as we see in this film.

The “face swap” trick that Natasha and Melina pull in the film’s final act also has the faintest of echoes of another early Yelena story, where Natasha “swapped faces” with Yelena to try and break her mind and get her on the side of the angels.

What Happened in Budapest?

“You and I remember Budapest very differently,” Clint Barton famously told Natasha in The Avengers during the Battle of New York. But now we know what went down…

Basically, Taskmaster’s origin story is tied to Natasha’s superhero origin. To fully defect from the Red Room and go to work for SHIELD, Natasha had to assassinate Dreykov…which meant the collateral damage of Antonia.

Of course, that led to Clint and Nat getting hounded by Red Room agents, which led to them hiding out for days together.

And before that, they were in that safe house apartment that was currently occupied by Yelena, hence the arrow damage to the walls.

Crimson Dynamo

Yelena (probably on purpose) refers to Alexei’s superheroic days as when he was “the Crimson Dynamo.” Sure, this is cute, but there really was a Crimson Dynamo in Marvel Comics! Crimson Dynamo is primarily an Iron Man villain, lots of different Russian agents have worn the Crimson Dynamo armor. It…didn’t end well for any of them.

The original Crimson Dynamo was Anton Vanko, otherwise known as the old man dying in the beginning of Iron Man 2. Although his son was known as Whiplash, Ivan Vanko was more of a cross between Whiplash and Crimson Dynamo. In the comics, “Ivan” was an alias Anton used.

We’re gonna choose to believe that Yelena isn’t just making this name up and that the Russians really did have an armored hero called the Crimson Dynamo, and if we’re lucky we’ll get to see him in a flashback of some future MCU project. After all, there’s that Armor Wars series on the way…

Also, there’s one thing that Crimson Dynamo has over the Red Guardian: he was immortalized in the lyrics of a song by a member of The Beatles. Paul McCartney and Wings have a tune called “Magneto and Titanium Man” which involves “a robbery” where “the Crimson Dynamo came along for the ride.” It’s great, and it’s on Wings Venus & Mars album.

Thor

Yelena’s line about how a “god from space” doesn’t “need to take an ibuprofen” after a fight is kinda priceless.

Mutants in the MCU

Dreykov tells Natasha that they were searching for the “genetic potential in infants.” Sure, this could mean anything like how athletic someone might grow up to be, but is there a chance they could also have been searching for a mysterious x-factor in a baby’s DNA?

James Bond

Natasha is watching one of the lesser-regarded Bond flicks, Moonraker. Of course, she still knows every word.

Dreykov gets a classic “Bond villain monologue” wherein a baddie spells out his plans for world domination before a hero who he surely thinks is either neutralized or could be swayed to their cause.

Antonia/Taskmaster is a Bond Girl! Olga Kurylenko played Camille Montes, a Bolivian agent with a vendetta in Quantum of Solace.

Remnants of the Red Room

Black Widow was written by Eric Pearson, who also wrote Thor: Ragnarok.

So… Natasha probably couldn’t taste that peanut butter and jelly sandwich from Endgame, right? That’s too bad.

It doesn’t seem that “Fanny Longbottom” is a thing from Marvel Comics, but as Mason points out it is most certainly a real name. Also, Yelena’s dog in the post-credits scene is named “Fanny.”

We get an explanation for Natasha’s blonde look in Infinity War here, as Mason gave her the hair dye. But the way it’s presented here feels slightly like a sisterly tribute to Yelena, which is really sweet.

Natasha makes a crack about “the cavalry” as Ross’ troops close in, but folks hoping that’s an Agents of SHIELD reference are probably going to be sorely disappointed.

Dreykov’s pheromone trick that he has implanted in the Widows (and Natasha in particular) leads to this scene playing out like when RoboCop tries to arrest Dick Jones in the classic 1987 film.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Natasha tells Dreykov with a smirk after getting him to monologue his evil plans. This is as close as we get to a Black Widow catchphrase – she also ended a veiled interrogation with Loki using the exact same words in The Avengers.

The Post-Credits Scene

Valentina Allegra de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfuss) is back after her appearances in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. If we had to hazard a guess, she’s putting together a team of “Dark Avengers” or “Thunderbolts” for the MCU.

Florence Pugh is indeed confirmed to appear in the upcoming Disney+ Hawkeye series, as well.

We went into much more detail about what the post-credits scene means for the future of the MCU right here.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Spot anything we missed? Let us know in the comments!

The post Marvel’s Black Widow: MCU Easter Eggs and References Guide appeared first on Den of Geek.

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thebiasrekkers · 3 years

Text

Make It Right [BTS Mafia AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,498

Tag List: @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali, @shrimpmsg, @ggukkieland

AN: I have nothing. Nothing except for...I’m sorry... T_T

Chapter 58: Killer

“I’m not Buddha but I’m a butcher. I’ll cut away your skin like a...”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Namjoon slowly slid the black cotton mask from his mouth and nose, waiting in the shadows of an alcove outside of the building. The small group of men he had with him, former Golden Jackals, huddled in the darkness. They were able to overtake the side entrance hours ago, before the crack of dawn. He made sure that no one of merit within the Jade Fangs would approach the designated area. Even if they did, Namjoon would have made it a point to subdue them completely. He would leave their bodies for the crows out in the muddy fields if he had his way.

But no, this was the moment where they would turn the tides. This was the beginning of the end.

We finish this today…

Lifting a cigarette to his lips, the orange glow of the flame licked at the end of the stick as a light crackling sound emitted itself from the contact. A few hushed conversations were going on beside him, to which he vaguely tuned in. They were out to prove themselves to the fallen brothers and sisters still imprisoned in the world they were forced to live in when adventuring into the light. But it was a life they deserved; a life they fought so hard for. Whether they lived or died after today, it would all be relevant to their future.

Pulling out his watch, Namjoon immediately flipped open the latch that covered the face. He was old-fashioned, so to speak, and a bit of a sentimentalist. Jimin teased him once about still carrying a pocket watch in this day and age, but how could he let it go?

It was a graduation gift Jungkook bought for him just before he moved to attend University in Seoul.

Time seemingly crawled; all of them were prepared to launch their first assault against the Jade Fangs. Namjoon already planned to be the first to cause the strike. He would need to ensure that the blast counted for something, otherwise it was all just going to get mucked up in the end. He would not have any screw-ups. Not while he was in charge of the first wave. Their offense was cut in half with Jungkook and Jimin pulled from the equation.

Pulling his ball cap down further on his head, he slipped the watch back into his pocket. Namjoon took one final drag of his cigarette, the smoke cloud billowing in his face and partially clouding his vision. However, in the shadows it seemed as if he were a dragon on the verge of breathing out a tremendous vortex of flame. One of the men approached him, nodding quickly. Namjoon grinned, his eyes narrowing slightly.

The gas line had successfully been cut.

“It’s time,” he said, his voice deep and commanding.

In sync, all of them slipped their masks over their faces. The cigarette fell to his feet and sparked with the faint light of its embers before finally dying out altogether. They could hear the approaching footsteps growing in time and Namjoon pulled out his hunting knives. As soon as they were in the right position, he disappeared and then reappeared at the front of the room which was in full view of the four different ways that many of the others could enter what was now to be viewed as their battlefield.

Now he had to wait for the show to truly begin.

Yoongi and his team were situated near the back of the factory, hiding in the thick brushes and reeds that were in desperate need of attention and care. Changkyun felt it wasn’t time to tidy up the landscape and that allowed for the perfect amount of camouflage. Namjoon already texted him earlier, telling him that he was in position with his team. Taehyung and his group were hidden within the factory, away from prying eyes. Once all the pieces were lined up, it would be his job to tip the first domino.

He couldn’t fucking wait.

Yoongi felt a dark smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. To think they’d spent the better part of three days planning this out. It almost seemed far fetched and he would never have gone along with something like this. Not until Namjoon convinced him just how solid this counterattack would be. Because they were using Changkyun’s ego against him. He may have broken them by taking their brothers from them and left them feeling demoralized from how thoroughly they’d been ruined. But what Changkyun failed to see was the very thing Hoseok kept hidden away from the Jade Fangs all these years. The thing that he made sure they all kept hidden from them.

Their very own malicious nature.

He felt a buzzing in his pocket and he pulled out his phone, eyeballing the screen. It was time for him to make his move. Slipping out from his hiding spot, he made a point to make as much noise as possible. He wanted to be found. He wanted his path impeded.

His men would remain hidden.

The shuffling of feet reached Yoongi and he was soon surrounded in a semi-circle by Jade Fang lackeys. Pushing his way through the small throng was Kihyun, a curious expression painted over his features. Yoongi pulled out a cigarette and lit the end, slipping the lighter into his pocket. He watched Kihyun place himself in front of him, his back to the window of the factory.

“You should really quit while you’re ahead, Yoongi-ah,” said Kihyun, a baseball bat draped over his shoulder, “those things’ll kill you.”

“My smoking habits should be the least of your concerns,” he replied, cigarette poking out from between his lips.

Kihyun laughed, shaking his dark chestnut bangs out of his eyes. “I thought the meeting agreement was for Hoseok to come. Why are you here?”

Yoongi scoffed. “Did you really think, after everything you guys have done, that we’d trust Hoseok to come here alone with just one of us?”

“And let me guess…” He watched Kihyun as he took a step forward. “…you’re watching the back in case we try to do something underhanded?”

“Nope.”

He tried not to relish in the frown that Kihyun gave him. The heavy thudding of his heartbeat only elevated the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Every square inch of him felt as cold as ice. But he could feel the fire pouring from his eyes.

Yoongi looked at Kihyun, his eyes shifting ever so slightly to the left. He saw the window slowly opening – silent. He would thank Taehyung later for oiling all the windows and doors on every side of the warehouse except for the front.

He pulled the cigarette from his lips, blowing smoke at Kihyun. Flashing his gummy smile, his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head back slightly.

“I’m in the back so I can blow it up.”

And with a quick flick of his wrist, Yoongi threw the cigarette through the open window.

The explosion that soon followed knocked them all back.

Taehyung’s back hurt.

He’d been perched in the rafters for hours – having arrived at the factory long before anyone else appeared. There was an almost methodical madness to how carefully he oiled all the door hinges and window panes that didn’t come from the front of the warehouse. He was wired from both adrenaline and caffeine, knowing full well that today would be the day that everything would end. He knew his brothers were on edge, both from the planning and from the unpredictable nature that he exuded constantly.

But he had to be. Taehyung knew that if they knew what truly ticked around in his mind, they would do everything in their power to keep him from coming along. They would have left him behind.

And he’d be damned if that happened.

There was a single skylight in the factory situated dead in the center of the roof. Taehyung’s team already made short work of the lackeys that tried to come to the roof earlier that morning. No upper tiered members of the Jade Fangs were on rooftop duty. Taehyung already made a mental note of where everyone else was.

Hyungwon and Jooheon were patrolling the left side of the building; the side where Namjoon and his team were. One of Taehyung’s team was already deep inside of the factory, following the blueprint that Namjoon gave him, taking him straight to where the main gas line was. Once he finished cutting the line, he was to head to the boiler room.

Kihyun and Minhyuk supervised the back side of the factory, in case they were flanked. Yoongi was there with his group. He was the “gunshot” that would start the race. He was the only one who would be able to catch them off guard. Besides, he knew that Yoongi was also a bit of a pyromaniac and wouldn’t have been satisfied if he wasn’t the one to set off the explosion.

Which left Shownu, Wonho and Changkyun on the inside. Hoseok and Seokjin were sent in not as bait, but as a distraction. Then it would be time to bring the entire building down on top of their heads. Blood would be spilt. Lives would be lost.

Taehyung would eviscerate them all.

The building shook violently, causing Taehyung to grip onto the metal rafters. He leaned forward; one knee pressed into the beam beneath him. Shouts of confusion were heard from below him and he flashed a manic grin where no one could have the pleasure to see. Screams of pain resounded as glass shattered from below, his eyes searching for Seokjin. He was already making his way around a set of crates, having swiftly dispatched several Jade Fang members during all the chaos.

More glass broke and metal doors were slammed wide open. Dozens of Golden Jackal members flooded the factory, tangling themselves in a fight. The glass covering from the skylight also shattered, raining down into the factory. Several ropes dropped from the ceiling and Taehyung stood to his full height as his team descended from the open hatch. Some dropped to the ground while others swung from their ropes, landing on top of unsuspecting lackeys. Blood spewed as knives plunged into bodies from both sides.

Taehyung ran, jumping out as far as he could and stretching his arms out. He grasped onto a rope, swinging around until his leather gloved hands allowed him to slide down. He shoved his body around, changing his trajectory in mid-air so he was heading straight for the manager’s office.

His legs extended out as he watched Shownu scrambling to his feet. Taehyung crashed his heels directly into Shownu’s chest, knocking him back. As he straddled the older man’s hips, he quickly unsheathed the large hunting knife from his back – aiming it straight for Shownu’s chest.

He grunted when Shownu used his arms to block the blow – their forearms crashing into one another. Taehyung’s arms shook violently as he tried to force them down, watching the blade getting closer and closer to Shownu’s throat. He could feel the capillaries in his eyes exploding, his vision blurring momentarily, before a scream erupted from his lungs.

Releasing one hand from the hilt of the knife, Taehyung punched furiously at Shownu’s rib cage. The older man attempted a counterattack, using his knee to slam into Taehyung’s back. The force of the blow caused him to fall forward and he felt Shownu’s fingers closing in around his throat. Taehyung continued to punch him even as he felt the air being choked from him.

He punched him one more time, using his fingers to dig into Shownu’s side. He buried them, like he was digging through mud for shells. He twisted his fingers and pulled, tearing through the fabric of the other man’s shirt.

Turning his head and leaning forward, Taehyung snapped his teeth into Shownu’s knuckles. He bit through the skin, blood spraying into his mouth. The older man screamed but he could barely hear it over the noise of battle being waged all around them. He pulled his hand from Shownu’s side, gripped his other hand, and put all his weight down.

The blade slowly buried itself into Shownu’s chest.

Hoseok’s knee crashed into the ground as Changkyun struggled to maintain his own footing. The two men glared at each other just as the noises from outside became more and more prevalent. Hoseok smirked as he saw Changkyun race to the window, peering out to the factory floor below. He managed to get back onto his feet just as the Jade Fang’s leader turned to glance over his shoulder at him. Hoseok took pleasure in seeing the snarl forming on the man’s face.

“You,” he snapped, turning around to face him again.

Hoseok dusted off the backs of his pants, his arms going up into a defensive stance as his hands curled into fists. “Yes. Me.”

Changkyun quickly raced to the other side of the room, his hand sliding under the table. Hoseok narrowed his eyes when he next turned around, a knife held in his hand. He scoffed. Maybe he would have been surprised if Taehyung hadn’t already told him what was hidden there.

“So, you expected me to come unarmed, but then have a knife hidden away?” Hoseok shook his head. “I’m so fuckin’ disappointed in you right now.”

“Shut-up!”

Changkyun ran at him, his arm striking out to slash at Hoseok’s neck. But he was faster because he was thinking clearly. He wasn’t about to let anyone stop him from accomplishing what he wanted to do on this day.

He dodged, side-stepping Changkyun at the last second. Reaching up to his lips, Hoseok pulled out the small razor he had hidden in his mouth. Ducking the next blow, he slung his arm upward and slashed over where Changkyun’s right eye was. A stream of blood sprayed and Changkyun moved to cover one hand over his eye as a trail of crimson leaked from beneath his palm.

Dropping the razor, he closed the distance between them as Changkyun attempted another assault. But with his depth-perception thrown off, he swung blindly. Hoseok slammed his elbow into his chest, aiming a backfist to his throat, and used his other hand to quickly disarm him. Before the knife could fall to the floor, Hoseok was already snatching it out of the air.

Spinning around on his back heel, he roughly slammed his back into Changkyun’s chest – forcing his body to bang against the door. Hoseok pulled his arms forward, then swung them back. A sickening squelch noise followed as he plunged the knife directly into Changkyun’s gut. He felt the younger man struggling against him, but he put all his weight backward – his shoulder blades pressing into his chest so that Changkyun wouldn’t be able to wriggle himself free.

“H-Hyung,” he heard Changkyun choke out, his hand reaching out to grasp onto Hoseok’s shoulder, “don’t do this. We…we can help each other…”

Taking a step back, Hoseok buried the knife further into Changkyun’s stomach – watching the blood forming a small puddle by his feet.

“…you can fucking die is what you can do.”

Seokjin swore under his breath, eyeballing the small cut on his leg. He hadn’t meant to get caught off guard, but there was so much happening around him. Things got less hairy when Namjoon’s team managed to make it inside. Even in the middle of all the craziness, Seokjin was glad they weren’t having to deal with guns. This would have ended bloodier than it needed to.

His eyes darted in every direction and he barked orders when he needed to as Taehyung’s team swept down from the ceiling. Namjoon was in the thick of it with his people and some of Yoongi’s squad managed to make it inside. There was a hint of worry when he hadn’t been able to locate Yoongi, but he knew he had to trust his brothers to be able to take care of themselves.

If he couldn’t at least do that, then what good was their bond?

The door to the manager’s office flew open, the loud bang rattling throughout all the noise of the fighting. Seokjin’s eyes followed the sound and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Hoseok stumbling out of the door. He nearly tripped on something, seeing Taehyung catching Hoseok at the last second before he could fall. The two of them exchanged words before Taehyung jumped from the catwalk, his arms grabbing for the ropes so he could swing down to the main floor to join the fight. From what Seokjin could tell, Hoseok hadn’t sustained any injuries.

There was movement in Hoseok’s blind spot. Seokjin wasn’t sure if it was one of their people or a Jade Fang member. Not until the very last second.

“HOSEOK-AH!”

Their eyes locked momentarily, but there wasn’t any time. Running from his hiding spot, Seokjin scooped up a discarded knife. He slid to the center of the bottom floor and flung his arm out and upward. Hoseok jumped out of the way just as the knife buried itself in Changkyun’s throat. They watched the Jade Fang’s leader fall backward, presuming that he would not be getting up a second time.

A grateful smile passed over Hoseok’s lips, but soon snapped to surprise as he looked back at Seokjin.

“HYUNG!”

Suddenly, Seokjin felt his body flung to the side. His head hit the ground and the rest of him followed suit. The pain erupted seconds afterwards, his hand reaching up to grasp at the area where his nerves were screaming at him. Fingers caressed something cold and slender. When he pulled, his pain receptors went off like alarms and he screamed, looking around at who was responsible for the assault. As he craned his neck around to see, he spied the rod-like object poking out from his side. Something dribbled from his mouth and he didn’t have to guess to know that it was his own blood.

When he searched around in desperation, his eyes locked with Minhyuk who was holding a crossbow – watching him already reloading the next bolt.

Bodies moved around him in a blur – all of them screaming and fighting for their own lives. They were distracted. None of them realized what was happening.

No one except Hoseok.

Seokjin grinned, crawling to his knees. He could hear Hoseok’s feet thudding along the metal stairs, but he knew he wouldn’t make it in time. He was ready to face this head on. However, what he hadn’t expected was Minhyuk to shift his aim.

To Hoseok.

Eyes wide, Seokjin quickly scrambled to his feet and lunged forward in Hoseok’s direction. He knew his brother wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around him. He was too focused on getting to Seokjin. But by doing so, he was putting himself in danger.

Seokjin knew he had to block his path.

It was like he could sense it. He jumped up and out to the left. Pain blossomed over his back and all feeling from his legs down seemed to disappear. He collapsed into the ground, dirt filling his nostrils, and he cried out in agony as he dug his fingers into the concrete. Soon, he could feel the texture of his own blood mixed with the dirt under his fingernails.

“HYUNG!”

Seokjin couldn’t see, but he knew it was Taehyung’s voice. He blindly reached out, grabbing for what he assumed was Taehyung’s ankle. “H-Hoseok-ah,” he choked out between coughing up blood, “…get him out of here.”

“B-But Hyung—”

“DO IT!”

He felt the ankle leaving his grasp and Seokjin prayed that Taehyung would listen to him. Hoseok had to get out of there. They all had to go. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he was going to make it. Not now; not when he was coughing up blood. Something was internally damaged. He was most likely hemorrhaging already.

Curling onto his side, he grasped at the bolt protruding from him and gripped onto it as hard as he could. As he pulled, visions of Anastasia flashed through his mind, giving him pause. For a moment, he forgot about the pain; he forgot about the world around him.

All he could see was the woman he loved standing in the far corner of the factory as she held their beautiful son. He stretched his arm out, reaching for them as if he could touch them. Tears leaked from his eyes as he smiled – the world blurring and getting just a little bit darker.

…I’m sorry, Ana, he thought, the weight of his arm starting to get heavier, …I’m not going to be able to keep this promise…I love you… He felt his elbow hit the concrete, followed by his head.

I’m going to see my brothers now. Forgive me…

Everything grew quiet around him.

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escapedartgeek · 3 years

Text

Get to Know the Muse - Zora Andrews

tagged by: @wurmbabe tagging: you

GENERAL

name: Zora Lauryn Andrews

alias(es): Z, Zee, Zo, that one creator, cosmicz on insta

gender: agender, galactic

age: 31(soon to be)

date of birth: aug 25 1990

place of birth: night vale, arizona

hometown: night vale, arizona

spoken languages: english, spanish, some latin, miscellaneous eldritch languages

sexual preference: bisexual.. no strong preference for partners

occupation: illustrator, graphic designer, artist of all mediums

APPEARANCE

eye color: nowadays it’s showing as white with some lavender in it. May be brown when out in certain places.

hair color: dark brown, starry patterns in white, purple appear in their hair

height: 5′5, but taller when in expanded form - can fill a room at bare minimum so...

scars: don’t remain permanent because of their energy based form

burns: n/a

over weight: n/a

under weight: n/a

FAVOURITE

color: shades of purple, black, blue, silver

hair color: is generally fine with most hair, likes darker colors and bold colors in particular

eye color: whatever is generally fine.

song: sun ra by jamila woods, alternatively space is the place by sun ra.

movie: ganja and hess

tv show: likes weird horror anthology shows. also the twilight zone

food: stir fry of any kind

drink: tea, hot chocolate, a good cider

book:scifi novels, horror novels, art history, cultural studies

HAVE THEY

passed university: yes

had sex: yes.

had sex in public: ....apparently yes.

gotten pregnant: no.

kissed a boy: yes

kissed a girl: yes

gotten tattoos: yes

gotten piercings: yes

had a broken heart: yes.

been in love: yes.

stayed up for more than 24 hours: does so when in the middle of an intense project

ARE THEY

a virgin: no

a cuddler: yes.

a kisser: yes.

scared easily: not really. a lot of things truly don’t faze them although maybe they should.

jealous easily: no, not particularly

trustworthy: they can be a very trustworthy friend. but uh.. it also may come with knowing more about them than one would expect.

dominant: sometimes, it can be fun.

submissive: sometimes, also can be fun.

in love: verse dependent.

single: verse dependent

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: nope.

thought of suicide: .....possibly yeah.

attempted suicide: ......yeah.

wanted to kill someone: every now and then. they generally try to resist that urge

drove a car: yes.

have/had a job: yes.

have any fears: yes. fears include: forced imprisonment, being abandoned by those they cared about.

FAMILY

sibling(s): one half sibling Isiah Andrews who stays in LA.

parents: Henry and Lorraine(alternate name:Kjua) Andrews - mother and adopted father, actual father a friend of their mother named Exor.

children: none of his own. not particularly expecting any time soon.

pets:a strange little fuzzy blue creature named Jimi Jillix

#info

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hiromisuzukimicrojournal · 3 years

Text

The rain surrenders to the town, Al Capone is no longer there

…

✽

Sitting on the windowsill and occasionally looking at the terrace, Eliza takes needles and threads from the sewing box and makes ferns with felt. The plants made of non-woven fabric that has pressed fibers such as wool or animal fur. Making ferns as if the leaf veins gain the breath from water veins, she is waiting for something. Her husband is a man who is hiding whiskey behind books on a bookshelf, snuggling up to whole world’s despairs day and night, crying while seeing her off. Eliza is working at the supermarket every afternoon.

Al Capone, who was imprisoned in The Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary, is said to have hidden rye whiskey in his cell. Alcatraz Island on San Francisco Bay was surrounded by the cold sea currents, the prisoners could not easily escape from prison. In the 1979 movie ‘Escape From Alcatraz’, Frank Morris acted by Clint Eastwood attempted a desperate jailbreak. Investigators said “they are dead,” but the prison chief found Morris’s chrysanthemum being washed ashore.

There was a pet shop on the roof of the supermarket. The children were teasing a squirrel monkey trapped in a cage with Chupa Chups’ sticks. The monkey was scared of the shout “Cute!”. Turned his back on the crowd, ate sunflower seeds with downcast eyes. The monkey wished he could dive into the downwind Tokyo Bay from wagon of the Ferris wheel on the roof. A cargo ship was swaying in the sunset on the waves. Suddenly, the machine gun fired. The monkey was frightened by the creeping killers. The squirrel monkey was very timid. He heard the footsteps of the gangster were approaching. No, it was the sound of the thunder storms hitting the concrete floor on the roof.

To escape from the sudden rain, a bachelor rushed into the main entrance just before the store closed. The man chose an assorted box of baked sweets as a gift for his mother living in a hometown and went to the service counter. Eliza worked at the gift section in the supermarket. “Would you like to choose a wrapping paper?” Eliza asked the bachelor. “No, especially no,” the man replied lazily. “Leave it to me,” she chose a few sheets of colourful Japanese paper and wrapped the box with beautiful gradation. “I like this kind of paper with the texture of plants. These are my personal goods. It’s a secret…,” she smiled embarrassedly. The bachelor invited Eliza to a supper after her work. She was surprised and hesitant for a while, but replied, “I can be with you for a little. My husband is waiting for me to come home.”

They met at a Chinese restaurant near the supermarket. Under the paper lantern, Eliza, who took off her uniform, looked like a young girl. She wore an old-fashioned flapper-style dress like Dorothy Parker. They ordered a dim sum set that would not fill their stomachs.

“I’m working on the graphic design, so interested in a clerk who is particular about wrapping paper like you. Thank you for dating today.”

The bachelor made an excuse.

“I’m glad you invited me. I’m a middle-aged woman, in the edge of my life.”

Eliza laughed obediently.

“Once a week, I accompany my husband to church for his AA meetings. He doesn’t like going to church. He is not a Christian, and wondering which God he should make an oath to. While waiting for his meetings to end, I’m learning handicrafts at a women’s workshop at church.”

She talked ramblingly.

“I’m designing book covers, so I’m particular about paper. Paper is made of pulp. Pulp is a tree. Since ancient times, it has been said that God dwells in trees. Paper is sacred.”

As the man made a passionate speech, Eliza looked at him with vacant eyes and said, “Seems to be the story of Yggdrasill. The world tree in the Nordic myth.”

Yggdrasill shivers,

the ash, as it stands.

The old tree groans,

and the giant slips free. *[1]

Suddenly, they heard a rhythm of cha-cha-cha from the portable player. The upper bodies of the old couple sitting in the next began to dance on the horizon of the table, for the ballroom dance choreography. While laughing at the cheerful tune ‘La engañadora’ by Orquesta Amérca, “It’s getting late. Shall we go home?” the bachelor said and passed the bill to the waiter. The man slid the coaster that had been written his cell phone number towards Eliza.

The bachelor enters to a bar on the back alley. He notices that the tune in the Chinese restaurant is chasing him. The happy rhythm of ‘La en gañadora’ is coiling around him in the dim light. ‘La engañadora’ means the fraudster in Spanish. But it was translated in the US as “Anything Can Happen When You’re in Havana”.

In the dark corner of the pub at the wharf on a holiday,

a pint of Guinness, the jukebox, the released bustles are foaming.

The man in front of me,

into a glass of half pint that had been dried up,

added canned beer bought at the supermarket.

A pretty and well-behaved child next to me,

wrapping curly hair around her fingers

staring at the souvenir shop

is tweeting the rain.

Rain.

Water the Queen’s well.

Rain.

Bored phonograph records

ran out of patience

and turned into

the music of

bubbles. *[2]

The rain surrenders to the town. The squirrel monkey that escaped from the cage of pet shop is wandering at night. He slipped through the gangster’s bullets and jumped into Tokyo Bay from the Ferris wheel. At the wharf, Al Capone’s favorite car, 1928 Cadillac V-8 Town Sedan and a million barrels of rye whiskey are preparing to be loaded onto the ship. Al Capone himself is no longer there. There is just a cigar end in the puddle. The chrysanthemum is looking up at the huge gantry crane. Silence surrounds the darkness. The old tree groans, and the giant slips free. This world is made of huge trees. People held in the dome of the world tree where the ground and underground, day and night are reversed are about to fall asleep. A spring springs at the root of the ash tree. The squirrel monkey is skipping from branch to branch freely and lightly, kissing the olive fruits.

The cell phone rang in the middle of the night.

The bachelor heard Eliza’s sobbing.

Behind her was her husband crying.

“My husband hit me on the cheek, but I feel sorry for him.”

Sitting on the windowsill, Eliza is waiting for something.

The fern that lives quietly beside the water veins under the shade of rocks.

✽

images: hiromi suzuki

…

*References:

[1] The Poetic Edda, Mythological Poems Volume II / Oxford University Press. Translated by Ursula Dronke, 1997.

[2] Queen’s Well in the Wicklow Mountains, Ms. cried – 77 poems by hiromi suzuki / Kisaragi publishing, 2013. Translated by hiromi suzuki, 2020.

…

✽ ✽ ✽

The rain surrenders to the town, Al Capone is no longer there

published in 3:AM Magazine: Jan. 19th, 2021

…

via 3:AM Magazine

#hiromi suzuki #short fiction #short story #poetry #poem #Ms. cried #collage #photo-collage #photography #poetry magazine #poetry journal #literary journal #3:AM Magazine #Mark de Silva

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