#he’s not in it he just makes an extremely brief cameo (above)

[hoeheaven]

WIP #??? Teaser from my upcoming comic of out of time ⚡️

[writefightandflightclub]

Six ways to Sunday (PART TWO OF TWO): Marc Spector x fem!reader🌙

PART ONE IS HERE

Summary: It was only ever meant to be a one time thing. Just a one night stand. A casual Tinder hook-up with no strings and even fewer feelings. Clearly, you had both decided that once wouldn’t be enough; but you’re still not sure you’re on the same page about what qualifies as too much.

Rating: EXPLICIT. This is 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI. By clicking to read more, you’re agreeing you’re over the age of 18, have read the warnings, and you’re prepared to read adult themes.

Genre: hurt/comfort, smut, light angst, some fluff and silliness.

Characters: Marc focussed, cameos from Steven, fem!reader.

Word count: 12k. I know, I’m a mess, okay?

Author’s note: I’ll keep this brief (unlike the fic), and say two things. 1) I wrote 21k for something I intended to be a one-shot. No, I don’t know why I’m like this. But I needed it out of my brain so here we are. 2) I didn’t mean for the smut to go in that direction, but the thigh was right there, so if anything it was a purely logistical decision, don’t look at me. If anyone makes it through this, thank you, and I hope you enjoy it 🧡

Warnings: explicit smut (eventually), masturbation, porn watching, dick pics, blow job, handjob, thigh-riding, cum swallow, cum play / kink, daddy kink (brief) / bratty reader; pain kink if you squint; p in v mentions, oral mentions, fingering mentions. Hook-up / casual sex partner situation. Marc being emotionally witholding and keeping secrets. Injuries and blood (not graphic), wound care. Alcohol consumption.

GIF by the wonderful @damerondjarin 🧡

How do you get yourself into these situations? You have to wonder, as you watch the dark streets of London slipping by the window of your Uber.

The contrasts and subtleties of your urban playground are extreme. The shadows shift along with each neighbourhood you pass, stark variations in architecture, vibe, affluence. Each building and each street a pleasingly different character. You love that about London - always have. How it always felt to you like a series of different identities, coalescing into one huge, vibrant city system.

You sigh out a terse breath as you take in the different facades and faces of the buildings which sluice by the rain-mottled glass pane. Lit windows with a glow of home, and sketchy, hidden corners alike - all bandaged up safely in the dark.

The city looks safe while it sleeps, but you know there are an array of secrets hiding in the shadows. You can’t help but see the mirror to your own situation. Indeed, the shadows are the only place you ever meet Marc, and you know not whether it is his comfort or cover. Your security, or your threat. You know not whether his eyes could ever be lit for you; with a bright glow of home. Or, instead, whether his shadows will be your downfall, secreting you away from streets you know and taking you into unfamiliar territory. Making you feel so entirely lost.

You clench your fists, nails digging crescents into your palm. A sea of nausea rolls in the pit of you as the car slows to a drag, along one street in particular.

“Is it roundabout here somewhere, or what, sweetheart?”

Maybe. You consult your phone. “Yeah. Anywhere here will be fine.”

Will it? Will it all be fine?

The car jolts to a stop, and as soon as you have thanked the driver and stepped out, he is gone.

The street is dark and deserted. Nothing much to report aside from an urban fox digging through a tipped over bin. It’s all battened-down shop shutters and closed curtains. You look for signs of life, and you see an attic room at the top of the tall, narrow building directly before you. It is lit with an oranged light, cutting through the night sky and towering above you like the beacon of a lighthouse.

What danger lies ahead that it warns you of, you wonder? Is it the glow of a safe harbour, or are you about to be dashed upon the rocks?  

There’s no way of knowing.

How do you get yourself into these situations?

You take a deep, lung-expanding breath - for courage - and you push on the front door to the building, finding it already ajar. Your instincts scream at you to turn around. Now. Your head tells you to… but your heart? Well, your heart is undecided.

All you know -all you’ve been told- is that Marc needs you. Not someone. Not something. He needs you.

Something’s wrong, and, if that’s the case, you don’t intend to let him down. Even if you can’t be sure whether he would do the same for you.

Twenty minutes earlier

Blissfully, you have the evening all to yourself. Your roommate has been spending an increasing amount of time over at her boyfriend’s, and tonight is one such occasion. And so, to celebrate your solitude, you’ve poured yourself a nice glass of red wine. You’ve ordered in from your most beloved local eatery. For now, you have your favourite trashy show on the big TV in the living room, and for later, a very steamy date planned. With your vibrator, that is.

That’s right. No sign of Marc. Not for weeks now.

You try desperately not to contrast your situation with your roommate’s, as she spends time with her hunk of a man, and you binge watch a whole series of The Ultimatum. You try not to think about the fact you are nothing more than a booty call for a man who is – to say the least - giving you seriously dodgy vibes. You wonder idly, how do you get yourself into these situations? And, importantly, should you give more thought towards how to get yourself out of them, instead of stubbornly doubling down?

Of course, you mean Marc. Your latest bad decision.

However, you very quickly toss that thought. You’re getting plenty of orgasms out of your latest bad decision, so, on balance, you consider that things could be a lot worse, actually.

Still, just as you tried to block out thoughts of your roommate and her altogether smug coupling, you try desperately not to think of Marc. Unfortunately though, before you’re even halfway through your takeaway you already have your hand down your pyjama bottoms and his name on the tip of your tongue, so that ambitions not going super well. You even open up your browser, about to search for some variation on alleyway porn – so help you - hoping to relieve the desperate ache between your legs.

Maybe you’ll even send him a picture. Maybe he’ll like that. Or, maybe, as is often the case, he won’t reply to you for weeks and you’ll be both pissed off and disheartened, dealing once again with your rather pronounced post-dick-haze.

Anyway, you digress. Basically, you’re thinking about Marc. Marc and his strong hands and his… oh god, all of him. All of him in you and on you and around you. All of him, and your fingers are massaging your clit and the porn you found is shitty but you think you can get there anyway and unnngggg, maybe you should send him a picture, because you’re getting wet and you know how much he’d like that. Sure - sometimes he doesn’t reply for days or even weeks at a time; but other times? Well, at other times, he doesn’t seem able to resist you.

God, you think as you idly glide a finger through your folds, trying not to focus on the fact you’re not able to pleasure yourself half as well as he does. You really don’t want to be this hung up on him, based on little more than the power of his dick.

And yet…

You slip a finger inside of yourself.

You’ve Googled all of his potential sins to see if you can find something to pin on him and you can’t find him guilty of anything. Shocking as it is for someone who has been known to (consensually) spit in your mouth and has a list of secrets as long as his (rather sizeable) dick, there are surprisingly few red flags. He told you plainly, upfront, this would be a no strings situation, and that’s exactly what it has proven to be. If anything, instead of feeling resentful towards him, you should be lauding him - for managing to consistently tell you the truth and get you off with equal fervour. In fact, the more you think about it, he’s quite the catch, actually.

Though – and there’s the rub - that’s the problem, isn’t it?

You can’t quite “catch” him.

Oh well. You pick up the pace and pressure of your ministrations below your waistband, trying to forget him and focus on the task, quite literally, at hand. However, you do a terrible job of trying to forget him, apparently, as - in the very next moment - you are opening up your message chain with the man, scrolling and perusing for your favourite, magnanimously-gifted dick pic.

Okay. So you had told him you wouldn’t be waiting by the phone for him… but what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. Right?  

You pause your scrolling abruptly, practically drooling as you land on an especially veiny, throbbing rendition of his dick, his head flushed a deep, ruddy colour and weeping from the tip. You commit it to memory before you clamp your eyes shut and focus on the memory of it, buried up inside of you. At least – you try. Try to focus on that and only that. The hardness of him, to keep the hints of softness away. You try to push aside the thoughts of his long lashes fanning shut in ecstasy. Of the little blessed smirk he does - on the rare occasion when you actually make him laugh. Of the soft brush of his lips up your neck and the reassuring rasp of his hand against your skin and the subtle contours of the veins in his forearm and the way you want him to be your boyfriend and that even the moon reminds you of him now.

Wait, what?

You want him to be your what, now?

You peel your eyes open, staring down at his dick pic in horror now, as though it is some cursed object; for how else could he have such power over you? How else could this hard man make you soft for him without cause or reason? How else, unless his dick was quite literally charmed?

Fortunately, you don’t have time to complete that thought, but unfortunately, you are unable to launch yourself to completion either, as the phone you are staring at indignantly rings brightly, mocking you without care by playing Debussy’s clair de lune - your assigned ringtone for Marc before you’d lost your sense of humour about such things.

Shit yes. It’s Marc. Calling you. Miracles are real, Gods do exist, and everything will be okay.

Your wank will be okay, as Marc can most definitely help you to… completion.

“Marc?” You answer so quickly it is probably embarrassing, your heart hammering and your hand continuing to play with your slick folds. After all, there’s only one reason he ever calls you. Sometimes, you resent that; but right now, you view it as rather fortuitous indeed.

“You have to come,” the voice says.

“Mmm. Ok, Marc,” you purr. “I think I can manage that. I’m already halfway there.”

“No. Um. God. Excuse me. Sorry. You have to come and help, yeah?”

You freeze. That’s not Marc.

“There’s an awful lot of blood, right, and I don’t know wot I’m doing and he’s too bloody stubborn for his own good…”

You sit bolt upright on the sofa, adrenalin piping instantly into your bloodstream, your heart beginning to hammer. When you speak again, there is no soft docile purr left in your voice any longer. You are no kitten, but all of a sudden a cat with claws. “Who is this?”

“Steven Gr– look, it doesn’t matter. A friend, innit?”

Your thoughts swirl. “Marc, this isn’t funny.”

“I agree, and believe me I’ve had words.” This voice. Another man. A British accent, in a roundabout way. Reminiscent of Marc, but not quite close enough. “But he needs you. Please.” You feel charged, but you don’t know what to do with all of this adrenalin, exactly, struggling with the shift in gears. Did this guy say something about blood? Is Marc hurt? You try to glean what you can from the few words spoken so far as you formulate your questions. Steven – is that his name? – sounds shaken. Panicked. Maybe even a little bit teary. “Ow! Oh, bloody hell that stuff stings!” You think that the voice turns his head away from the receiver. “What the hell did you tell me to do that for?” Who is he talking to? Is it Marc? You strain to hear. “Well, obviously I don’t know what I’m doing. I can tell you when antiseptic was invented but I don’t think that’s going to help us. What a monumental eff up this was.” The voice becomes clearer again as you blink uselessly in confusion – tips back towards the receiver. “Look. Sorry about all this. Can you just please come? Marc – he’s gonna be fine and dandy, nuffin’ to worry about, I promise – but he needs you, yeah?”

Something is resoundingly off, and that statement, is perhaps the most glaring red flag of all. “I doubt that Marc needs me for anything.” After all, he’s been consistently clear about that.  

“He does. He does, trust me.”

Your eyes narrow with scepticism. “I barely trust Marc. Why on earth should I trust you, Steven?”

Steven’s voice becomes small. A little sad. “Well. Because we don’t have anybody else.”

Your mouth forms a taut line, but this guy’s seeming distress is tugging on your heartstrings. Maybe that fact will reveal you as a fool. After all, you’ve listened to your heart and not your head overmuch lately.

“Please,” Steven implores one more time, still sounding frenzied, but gathering himself for his final plea. “If I text you an address, can you come?”

You fully stand now, urged on by the jitters sparking through your body. A series of alarms are blaring in your head, and this whole thing sounds shady as fuck. Has someone taken Marc’s phone? If so, have they hurt him, or worse? Have they somehow seen the saucy pictures you’ve shared with Marc and now they’re trying to entice you over? Will they hurt you too? It seems there are a million banal or nightmarish things that could be going on here, but only the one outside chance that what Steven said is true. That Marc really does need you.

“Can I talk to him?” you ask firmly, wanting to verify even a slice of this directly. “Put Marc on the phone, Steven.”  

“He can’t come to the phone right now, yeah? Can I give him a message?”

“Fuck.” You comb your hand over your hair in distress, trying to figure out what your next move should be. But already, in your heart of hearts, you know exactly what you’re going to do. After all, Marc drags you to him, like the moon drags the tide, doesn’t he? And so, if there’s even an outside chance that it’s true? That he needs you? You’re going to be there for him – even if you doubt that he would do the same for you.

You close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. There’s so much of this which doesn’t add up -not at all. You feel like this is about to be a really bad decision; but you already know you’re going to make it. You’ve been doing that an awful lot lately. “Fuck. Steven? Don’t worry. Tell Marc… Tell him I’ll be right there.”

Twenty Five Minutes Later

This is a bad idea. You know it’s got to be a bad idea. At least, if this all turns out terribly, it’s not going to blindside you, right? That’s something? That at least you saw the horrors coming?

Indeed, as you make your way up the winding stairs in the building, ears straining for any sounds which may signal danger, footfalls as stealthy as you can make them, you let every possible scenario play out in your head. You’re barely prepared for a single one of them, so it doesn’t help much, but you don’t have much else to go on, do you - besides having dropped your location in the group chat and googled “how to stop blood loss” in the Uber over here.

As one last ditch attempt you search “best self-defence strategy”, hurriedly scrolling through the results. Unfortunately, you are already failing to heed the best self-defence strategy of “running”, your feet carrying you ever closer to the threshold of -what you believe is- Marc’s place.

When you arrive at the top landing, you see a cracked open front door, fuzzy light pooling from around the edges of the frame. No signs of forced entry. (Isn’t that the first thing they always check for in crime shows before they jaunt inside? You forget.)

First, you tug in a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, just like in yoga class, in an attempt to steel yourself. Then, as quietly and as nimbly as you can, you push the door open wider, hoping to avoid any kind of ambush. To give yourself an advantage against any danger which may well befall you on the other side. The door inching open has no effect, besides a grating squeak, and so, with equal caution you suck it up and enter, still keeping a watchful eye.

Seeing no-one and nothing of suspicion so far you press onward, eyes hurriedly scanning the interior of the flat for information and clues. Your eye is drawn up toward the staggering eaves and the dark, aged wood. To the piles upon piles of dusty books, and to the illuminated fish tank smack bang in the middle of the room. Bile leaps up into your mouth as you venture forwards a little more, but finally, upon seeing that no trap has been sprung, you dare to call out his name. The sound comes out strangled and afraid at first, and then, as you take a few further steps, you muster greater courage from somewhere in your gut, protecting your voice deeper into the space.

“Marc?”

No response.

Something is wrong, you think.

Something is very wrong, and a hard gulp lodges in your throat and it’s too hot in here. Too hot and the air is thick with the scent of copper coins and it makes you feel sick and all you can think of is counting pennies with your Nana way back when. Counting pennies and the metallic tang rubbing off on your fingers and maybe your brain is trying to take you back to a happier place where the present moment can’t hurt you. Taking you away from here since you’re shaking like a leaf. Shaking, because you’re afraid; but, even so, you know you have to face your fears. Know you have to do it; for him, because something is wrong.

“I’m here.”

Your head whips in the direction of the flattened voice, and then finally you see Marc’s form. See him tucked behind a thick wooden pillar and laid out on the floor, his tan-brown skin on show as he languishes in black boxers. You see him now, his back propped against the long edge of the bed, one smooth, muscled leg stretched out before him. The other leg, bent at the knee, the tender sole of his foot curling towards his inner thigh.

He's hunched, posture dejected. Breathing laboured and light pooling across the contours of his body, shadows gathering in the recesses. He grips the neck of a bottle in the circle of his hand and his torso sways a little, a sharp, cutting breath sucked into his lungs as he swivels his head towards you, wincing and grabbing his left shoulder as he does so. You note now how his skin is marked with a pattern of deep reds and blooming violets, a particularly angry congregation of colour over the meat of his shoulder from blade to collarbone, and trailing down his bicep.

As you crane a little closer again, that is the moment you see the blood-stained cotton balls littering the floor. It is also the moment you feel your heart liquefying in your chest out of sheer concern.

“Marc!” you sound out – a round note which punctures the brooding, eerie calm of his shadowed cave, your body barrelling towards panic as you make haste towards him.

Your eyes flit over his form and around the room as you prepare to hunker down before him. “Are you alone?” you ask urgently as you scan over the wounds on his body, in case whomever inflicted such injuries might still be lingering – or might return.

He blinks an affirmative, as though nodding might be too much effort, his mouth slanted down at the corners, and his eyes gathering dark beneath the thick set of his brows. “As alone as I’m gonna get,” he offers defeatedly. You’re not sure whether that is a dig at you showing up, or what, but it’s not crucial enough of a detail to chase – for now.

“Steven?” you inquire, with a disobedient tremor in your voice, hurriedly setting down your handbag and shrugging off your coat, discarding them on the floor.

“Steven’s…. uh.” Marc manages to look sheepish.

“Let me guess. He can’t come to the phone right now? Jesus, why in the hell would he leave you like this?” You voice is too high of a register, and you are well aware of it, your words coming too fast. Your face is contorting in panic and your hands are shaking. Skimming over Marc’s body like bird’s wings, urgent and fluttering, hovering over him as you assess his injuries.

Your interactions are typically hard and rough and reckless, when it comes to this man -just the way he likes it - but you are trying your utmost now to be gentle. You can be gentle with him, if he needs it, and he evidently does in this moment. “Marc?” you question urgently, eyes widening and voice infused with yet more panic as your gaze licks across the skin he has exposed to you. You are searching keenly for clues and explanation, reassurance and solutions all at once; but you don’t find a single one of those things. Not until you meet Marc’s gaze. When you do, you find his stare steady and calm. Alarmingly calm, even, given the circumstances. Deceptively calm, perhaps. He even extends the hand of his good arm out towards your own, ever so slowly, squeezing your shoulder as though to reassure you.

Shit, this is all wrong. You should be helping him, and so, you make a more concerted effort to quell your spiking alarm.

“I asked Steven to go,” Marc says smoothly, a slow, unhurried tone you guarantee is meant to bolster you. You don’t know him well, by any means, but you know him well enough to know when he’s placating you. This? This is screaming if from the rooftops. “Before you got here, I asked him to go.” You blink at him, taking all of this in, your mouth still as dry as cotton-wool. Your eyes full with shivering tears. “Look, I’m sorry that he dragged you into this,” Marc forces a thin, contrite smile, but you can see through that too. Can see the truth of things. For the first time, in your experience, Marc is shaken. “He’s a bit of a panicker,” Marc stresses. “He overreacted.” Another, all too deliberate squeeze of your shoulder.

No.

No, you’re not falling for it.

“Bullshit,” your eyes sweep his body once more, making a more thorough catalogue of his injuries this time. “I’m with Steven G on this one. I think you’re under-reacting.” Marc winces, as your fingers gently crook under his chin, surveying him for any gashes and scrapes across his face. Your gentle, careful hands turn over his palms, your study sweeping up and down his arms. You have him obediently hunch forward so you can inspect his bare, muscled back – after a bit of a telling off, anyway.

From the way Marc moves -or doesn’t- you estimate he may have a cracked rib, or at least heavy bruising. A shiner or two which may develop on his face overnight, but judging by the bowl of melting ice packs on the bedside table, you can deduce he has already iced those. The main concern, and the culprit for the field of blood-red cotton balls littered like a garden of roses around his reclining form, are the puncture marks across his shoulder. A series of small, jagged gashes extending over his shoulder from collarbone to blade in the shape of a crescent.

The wound leaves him hunched and stony, weeping red ichor as though he is a fallen angel who has been torn from his wings. Conscientiously, you trace the shape and patterns of these strange wounds. And, if you didn’t know better, you’d conclude that they looked like bite marks. What on earth could have been so large as to have taken a chunk out of him like that? What on earth could be the culprit? Dog would be the most obvious choice; but you’re quite sure you’ve never seen a dog with a maw as big as that.

“Marc. What the fuck happened to you?”

There is a familiar beat as he looks at you -maybe he’s always just trying to buy himself some time - and then, he shakes his head softly from side to side. “I was jumped.”

“By who, Marc?” you say incredulously. “Tony the fucking tiger?”

Another beat, and he evidently opts to plead the 5th.

Wow. He’s not going to tell you then? At least, not everything there is to know, and not anything at all of use?

It makes you a little peeved, if you’re honest. He might not have wanted to drag you into this, but you have been, and he’s not even going to do you the dignity of trying to explain it? Still, you know better than to kick a man while he’s down, and by the look of him, he hasn’t had the best day, has he?

Marc nods promptly, down to your side where your handbag languishes next to you. “What were you planning to do with the 12-inch kitchen knife in your purse, sweetheart?”

Hmm, you snort. Nice try, but he’s not deflecting that easily. “I improvised. Just in case.” You catch the glint of the blade in your bag, but then you stare him down with just as much steel. “If you won’t tell me anything, fine. But, you need do need to go to the hospital. Like, now, Marc.”

“I’m fine, alright? I’m a fast healer.” He looks cagey, but glosses over it expertly. “I just need a little, uh, divine inspiration is all, and I’ll be right as rain by morning.” He looks up at the ceiling then, as if to summon it, but nothing seems to come to him.

You exhale a long sigh, chewing on your lower lip. He must be in pain, you venture, but he’s barely showing it. A valiant effort, sure, but you can read his body better than that, can’t you? Have learned how to interpret every twitch of muscle and slip of tendon. Every flicker and contortion of his face. You see that fixed set of his jaw, muscles writhing over bone. The veins standing out in relief; roping through his forearms. The terse breaths rising and falling in his chest and the tell-tale wince on the flare of his rib cage.

You know. You can see that he’s hurting; and therefore, maybe Steven was right. If he’s too stubborn to go to a hospital, maybe Marc does need you tonight.

You look at him. Making every effort to look into him and see past what he presents at face value. And, if on your first pass your eyes saw little, cloaked with frenzy and panic… If on your second you were able to assess and catalogue his injuries, it is on your third pass that you see him. Not a body. Not someone. Not just anyone. Not his deflections. You see Marc.

You see that glint in his eyes - which drives you to distraction - perfectly exhibiting his stubborness. You see the way a hard swallow dips in his neck when he falters briefly under your study, showing you he can be vulnerable after all. You see the tangle of his curls cascading over his sweat-dampened brow, showing a rare crack in his cool, controlled façade. You observe the tension in his arm as he coils his hands more tightly around the neck of his bottle; perhaps the biggest giveaway of all. The sign that he wants some relief, in one form or another.

So, later, you may care that he did not tell you what happened. Later, you may question your choices – chalk this up to bad decisions. But, for now, you resolve that you will give him relief in any way you can. You will give him care because he needs it, and regardless of who he is and all the things you do not know about him, you know who he is to you.

“Does it hurt?” you soothe, your voice gathering weight. Becoming less flighty and panicked. Becoming cool and calm for him, because he needs this, you think.  

You continue to look into him, and Marc is the first to drop your gaze; in itself a rare thing. His mouth and brow become stern, straight lines, everything drawing down. He squirms in position, his muscles rippling and the motion causing him to suck air through his teeth. His silence is enough of an answer this time.

Yep. It hurts.

You reach your hand out toward him, and for a moment Marc draws back from you as though your touch might hurt him too – though whether he fears cruelty or kindness, you are not sure. Cautiously, more slowly this time, you try again, reaching -with a soft sigh of air- to gingerly comb his coiled hair back from his forehead. For a moment, Marc’s face weighs heavier, brow burdened - almost with contempt that you would dare to be so tender with him. But, after only a few moments of you drawing his curls back with the slow rake of your fingers, Marc’s eyes close, lashes fanning out over his cheek. His lower lip quivering for a moment, as though this kind touch has moved him with a far greater force than that with which it was dealt.

His lips part as though to speak. His eyes busy all too suddenly with schemes, no doubt plotting to take back some power. To regain some control. To direct how this is going to go… But you decide no. Not this time. This time, for once, you resolve that he is going to relinquish just a little bit of control to you.

“Shhhh. Shushhh,” you soothe, voice as level and pacifying and calm as you can make it. “It’s alright. You’re alright. I’m gonna help you, Marc. Just tell me. Tell me how to help you.” You shift your hand to cup his cheek, and for a blessed moment, Marc leans into it, subtle tears pooling in the corners of his deep, umber eyes. For a moment, you see more than a sliver of him. More than the face he shows you; but, he quickly shrouds it again. He allows his relief to last for only a moment, before he remembers himself - and in the next, he is clasping his hand firmly around your wrist, drawing your touch away from him as though it is a cruelty.

“First aid kit. Bathroom cabinet,” he says brusquely, plenty of heft to his voice now. Almost as though he’s overcompensating for the cracks you seem to have found in him, sealing them over. He nods over in the direction of the bathroom. “I wouldda had this taken care of by now. Steven was being a wuss about the whole thing. Poor fella nearly passed out from the blood.”

Ah, yes. The mysterious Steven. A mystery within a mystery. More and more, you are coming to the conclusion that you must understand Steven in order to understand Marc.

You whisper that you’ll be right back and you venture through the space, cutting towards the sink. The basin is coated with splatters of red already, the first aid kit opened and resting out on the slimline shelf, some of the materials spilled out and on to the floor - as though the panic you had heard through the phone had transpired as chaotically as it sounded it had.

With another deep breath to steady your nerves, you gather up the more obvious supplies from around the place, tracking back to Marc. You can’t help but skim your eyes around the place - over his desk and shelves as you walk - drinking in the titles from the spines of the towering piles of books and mentally cataloguing his possessions. Looking for any clues you can find to aid you in solving the mystery of him.

Puzzles? Poetry? Egyptology? Far from answering your questions, the rabbit warren only deepens. Complicates. Your theories fracture and branch into yet more questions.

A divot carves itself into your brow. This… This can’t be what he was keeping from you, can it? The reason he never has you over here? A deathly secret penchant for ancient history and Rubik’s cubes? It doesn’t add up, but you can’t help but trying to do the sums regardless.

When you kneel back down, close to Marc’s half-reclined body, no doubt he can see such questions in your eyes - especially since you do little to mask them. After all, you’re not quite as comfortable with secrets as he evidently is. Still, you rationalise. It has to count for something, that he’s honest about the fact he’s holding things back, doesn’t it? You softly shake your head, and, casting your mental abacus aside, you turn your attention to the task at hand, preparing to patch his wounds.

He takes a swig of the whisky. “Anaesthetic,” he deadpans.

You are not amused. In fact, you feel taut with worry, and you avoid meeting Marc’s gaze, even as he studies you intently.

You can feel his eyes follow you, soft and hazy and slow blinking as you tend to him. Cleansing the gashes. Wiping up the inky red tendrils. Gently dressing his wounds. It must hurt, but he barely so much as winces – only the occasional ripple of his dense muscles. A shock undulating down his abs to the dense trail of hair sneaking below his boxers. A clench darting down his bare, muscled thigh as one application of antiseptic particularly smarts. It draws your eye, his body. Stretched out before him all sculptural; but still, you remain focussed. You make sure that your hands remain slow and careful. As tender as you have ever touched him.

You can’t bear to look him in the eye as you care for him like this, your hard, strong man all weakened, but you find you can still read him all the same. Can hear his breathing slow and soften under your care. Can see some of the tension fall from his packed shoulders.  

After a while of being weighed by Marc’s intent study, the attention begins to burn you. And so, you can’t help but reach for a distraction – whether for him, or for you, you’re not sure. “You know. You should take me out to dinner.” You look at him then, eyes glancing off one another’s as sharp and strong as two blades colliding - but you do not linger long enough for him to cut you. Only long enough to enjoy him flailing for a moment, and so you can’t resist a delicious smirk to rival his best. “That’s how you stop the bleeding isn’t it? Apply pressure?”

You bite back a tentative grin, but you swell a little with pride as your joke earns a lazy, involuntary flash of teeth from Marc.

“Clever girl. You made a joke,” he interprets coolly. In a mildly patronising tone, no less, which you know you shouldn’t enjoy half as much as you do. And yet, when you look up at him, searching out the rare warmth of his smile, creases radiating out from his umber eyes, you have to look away all over again. He looks at you with such a delicate, complex heat brewing there that it floors you.

“I Googled ‘stopping blood loss’ in the car over,” you chat idly, reaching to deflect. Finally admitting to yourself that perhaps you do wear some masks around him after all. That you do have some secrets; you don’t wish him to know quite how much he destabilises you, for one thing. Leaves you reeling. “Clocked some baller self-defence moves too.” A bright but subdued grin lights your features, as you continue to tape down gauze and apply dressings. “So don’t you dare mess, Marc. I’m hard now.”

You sit up taller, with a little, definitive nod of your head. You have concluded your efforts. You resist the urge to dip and plant a kiss to his collarbone to mark it. There, I’ll kiss you all better.

You shiver, when Marc’s warm palm curls around your upper arm, smoothing over your skin at a few centimetres per second. “Baller moves huh?” he asks, a shroud of desire falling over his voice as his touch traverses your smooth, forgiving skin. “What did you find?”

Ironic, sort of. Self-defence, as a topic of conversation with Marc? It’s laughable. Useless, really. As of lately, your self-preservation instincts are all off-kilter. You have no defences against him, and he knows it too, from the look hiding beneath his hooded gaze. His hand sneaks up, smoothing beneath the sleeve of your pyjama tee and cupping your shoulder, the rough pad of his thumb drawing circles – little orbiting moons.

“Top strategy was running,” you intone, voice faltering, eyes fighting the urge to close as he smooths you, and tongue almost slack in your mouth.

“You should have,” he says plainly, and you don’t doubt it. Not for one second.

A gulp dives down your throat. “Guess I’m not very good at knowing when to quit.”

He dips his perfect chin down, briefly, to his meticulously patched shoulder. “Guess I should thank you for it.”

You search his face inquiringly. You are a ball of questions, looking for answers, yet finding his eyes as impenetrable as the engulfing black, swallowing up his burnt umber irises.

What are you into, Marc? Funny, that the first DM you’d sent him would be your prevailing question even now.

He has a past. You know it. You can taste it on him. Taste it on his tongue when he fucks it up into you, all reckless abandon like he’s been parched of anything good for longer than he would care to tell. Can feel it on his hands when he applies them with lethal precision to make you fall apart – skilled and trained and dangerous and relentless. Can see it in his want-tortured face when he looks at you like he doesn’t deserve a damn thing that’s his in this world. You know now, you think, that he doesn’t keep you in the dark because of anything you lack. Instead, it’s simply that he’s lived there for so long, that he must have forgotten what the light feels like. Must believe that he is only loveable in pieces. In shadowed fragments. Pieces of the moon – that whole celestial body - slipped to you in crescents like illicit little trinkets you gather and guard like you could piece him together if only you had the key.

His hands, you can guess, moving over you now with an aching, slow pace, have done things you might not want to know about, and maybe you should run. But you feel too the regret pouring off of him. He’s cool and calm but that is chaotic. It’s messy and brutal and unforgiving, just like the way he takes you, as if you and his pain have become one and the same. As if he fills you with it for even one moment of respite.

“Marc,” you say plainly, cracks in your voice like fractures in old walls of stone as you settle your hand over the top of his. “You know. I’m not asking. But if you ever do want to tell someone?” A lump bobs down his neck. “You know you can tell me.”

He knits his brows, shadow pooling more densely in the hollows of his face. He tugs in a slow gust of air, as if to launch some words of confession here and now. Of explanation. However, you know better than to expect that from him. How could it be that easy, when he’s been holding back for so long?

“Marc?” you launch on a taut line of breath, knowing that there is at least one question you have to ask, this hole in your knowledge far too glaring. “Who the fuck is Steven?”

Marc grows uncomfortable, squirming in place. Hunching his dense shoulders closer towards his ears. Swapping the position of his bent and elongated legs around and back again. All that, but when he starts talking about Steven, his face is as open as you’ve ever seen it. Lit with an affection that, quite frankly, you did not know he was capable of.

You feel words writhing under his skin. On the tip of his tongue, and so, you begin to gather up the soiled medical supplies from around Marc, hoping that dividing your focus will allow him a little more room to open up, should he want to.

“We’re… roommates. Sometimes he lives here, sometimes I do. Sometimes we’re both around.” A lazy flash of teeth glints from beneath his curled lips, and, when you glance at him fleetingly, it might be the most unweighted you’ve seen Marc’s face since you met him. “Sweet fella. Quite the nerd. Talks like a goddamn Victorian chimney sweep.” A small smile bursts on to your face and Marc checks himself, becoming more serious. “Our, uh, schedules were never supposed to intersect. Did everything I could to keep things separate. But he… Uh.” Marc nods slowly, bringing his palm up, sawing the pads of his fingers back and forth along his lower lip, mouth downturned and his eyes shifting from side to side. It looks like there is more to say. Much more to say. Like he reins something in, before speaking with finality. “He’s a good buddy. He, uh, got me out of some sticky fixes.”

You are wordless as you process this. At first, you had wondered whether the connection with Steven might have been romantic, or sexual, but after hearing Marc, you’re no longer convinced of that. He speaks about him in almost a brotherly way. Like he recognises a part of himself in the dude, on some level; however different they may be.

Still, you arc your eyebrow in Marc’s direction, looking at the one bed, pointedly. You’re not exactly lapping his whole story up about “roommates” without question, but there’s something which rings somewhat true in his words and his tone and in the set of his face. And so, even if you give this subtle nod to the fact you aren’t entirely placated, you opt not to challenge him any further on his business. “Well.” You pump your eyebrows. “Rent’s a bitch in central London, I suppose.”

Marc’s eyes glow at you then like lit moons, with gentle admiration, his lips curling with a small smile. You finish gathering up the supplies and hint that you’ll be right back, discarding the bloodied scraps into the bathroom bin and tucking the first aid kit back behind the mirrored cabinets. Then, you take a deep breath and cross to Marc once more. He’s still laid out where you’d found him, and it can’t be all that comfortable. Still, he appears to be enjoying gazing out of the window, where it frames the night sky. “Do you want some help getting up onto the bed?”

“Nah. Come sit with me for a mo’, will you?”

You stand before him, looking doubtfully down at the floor for a moment. Contemplating whether this may turn out to be another bad decision as you feel Marc’s heating gaze dragging over you. You reciprocate, looking at him all stretched out below you - looking delicious despite having been almost eaten alive – and it is only then that you have the wherewithal to consider your own appearance for the first time since arriving.

The verdict?

Mild horror ensues.

Shit.

Given the urgency, of course, you’d rushed over here without giving much thought to your aesthetic, shoving a coat and pair of boots on top of what you were already wearing. Usually, when you meet up with Marc, you are dressed to kill, aiming to provoke all of his senses and sensibilities towards one, very specific end. Him fucking you. In fact, you have your bratty, come get me, not as innocent as I look, eat your heart out then eat my pussy, succubus-chic aesthetic down to a fine art, even if you do say so yourself. However, right now is a different story, and you are serving rather… different vibes. Vibes which, to your disdain, now have Marc’s lips tipping up into an infuriating smirk. In particular, he seems to be fascinated with your “cookie doughs and cookie don’ts” pyjamas, the top emblazoned with a pattern of cute little cartoon foodstuffs.

Well, fuck. It’s a different side of you than Marc usually sees, that’s for sure. You fold your arms defensively around your middle, but even if you are doing your best to scowl at him, you can’t quash a brief, wry smile at your own expense.

Marc looks up at you, quirking a thick, dark eyebrow. “What d’ya got underneath? Are your panties as sexy as the rest, honey?” he teases darkly, and despite yourself a heat snakes up your spine like his voice alone is charming it.

He’s really going to go there? Going to talk about underwear right now, when last time -feeling bolder than you are in this second- you had shoved your dampened and discarded knickers into his pocket. You recall, with a rush of arousal, how he’d fondled them and gathered the scent of you up, lifting his girthy fingers up to his nose to inhale you into him.

“Fuckin’ perv,” you sass boldly, and his blackened eyes glint with challenge - obsidian dark. The planes of his face angled and just as harsh as his strident palm usually is when it slaps a sharp sting across the globes of you, and god, you can’t believe that even like this, all beaten up and still withholding his secrets that he could illicit this heat in you, your core warm and flickering for him like a candle in the dark.

Your pussy clamps down on nothing as your eyes trail over him, all splayed out on the floor like this. Your stomach flips disobediently when he wraps his broad fist around the neck of the whisky bottle and tips it up for a swig, wrapping his smirk around the lip of it, the spirit lurching and gurgles as he sucks. As he drinks, his knuckles bump up against the tip of his strong nose and god. It’s the wrong time. The wrong time to think about this -wholly inappropriate – but all you can think about is the fact that those fingers have been buried in you, all the way to the knuckle, making you come undone with precision. The memory of it is buried even deeper.

“I’m sure these will drive you wild, Marc,” you caution, tugging the waistband of your bottoms down to reveal your huge, comfy briefs, peppered with adorable little clouds and rainbows.

Marc actually licks his lips. “Don’t get me wrong. I like your usual look a lot, honey.” His voice curls in you like a come hither finger, beckoning you closer. “But this side of you’s kinda cute too. Maybe I’d like to see you like this more often.”

“Right.” You pump your brows, sceptically, and - against your better judgement - you plonk yourself down next to him now, your back settled up against the frame and your neck braced against the lip of his mattress. “Except… I think you’re high from blood loss, or something,” you say snidely. “Because this is the side of me you didn’t want, remember? The side you don’t get.”

You hurriedly fumble the bottle of whisky from Marc’s warm hand for some belated Dutch courage. The amber liquid burns a satisfying trail down your middle as you tip it back for a generous, rousing swig. Blech. You screw up your face. And, as you pass the bottle back to him, Marc looks at you warily from beneath his endlessly long lashes.

There is a beat as he blinks at you. Tension writhes through his jaw in the face of your gently steeled expression, before he forces a taut, indecipherable smile on to his mouth. “Yep,” he clamps his lips into a thin line. “Right.”

You try desperately not to let even a hint of frustration or disappointment show in your face. You’ve always known this. That it’s just sex. Has never been anything else.

Still, he stares you down, and you try not to drop your gaze to his lips. Try not to imagine all the ways you might kiss some feeling into him. Some feeling other than pain. You resist him for now, but it feels inevitable somehow. Inevitable that you will have your lips on him tonight, like the timing is written in some ancient iteration of the night sky and you are powerless, simply waiting for the stars to align.

Instead, for now, Marc takes a deep swig out of the bottle, perhaps for some courage too. “Look. I know it’s gonna sound like a load of baloney, but I swear. I’m trying to protect you.” His eyebrows slope up, his expression contrite.

You shake your head tiredly. “From what?”

A beat. Buying himself some time. Thinking about which sliver of him to hand to you. “From my life. This playground of gods and monsters in my head.” He relinquishes the bottle and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. “From me.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” you snipe wearily. “I know my own limits, remember? My own mind too.”

“I believe that,” he says softly, and in earnest. “But you don’t know mine.” His words are spoken in a monotone of defeat. With all the pallor of spent ash. There is no threat you can decipher in his words; only fact. Only apology. Maybe you should run, but you do not want to. You only want to draw him closer.

You contemplate him for a moment. Marc with a “c”, a crescent curl like the bending of a tongue or the crooking of a finger. His body stretched out before him, spilling out from the lip of the bed like the golden pouring of dawn over the horizon, yellowed light pooling around the dips and swells and contours of him. He’s beautiful like this. Softer. You’ve grown so used to having him fast and dirty in the dark. To stealing mere glimpses of him through the shadows; but you could get used to him like this, you think. Could have him bare and long and slow in the light and devour him whole.

You search Marc’s face, and you see gentle resignation there. His secrets and his deflections are many, but in this moment, there is a truth harboured there. All you see is a felling. You see the walls in his eyes crumble like they were forged of an ancient stone. See his will flake and give way to dust as he collapses, under the weight of his own need for you.

It was only ever meant to be once; but neither of you can get enough, can you? It doesn’t matter what he keeps from you, any longer. He’s told you so many times, so plainly, all that he can’t give you and doesn’t want to take; but he’s never once told you to stop.

A hard swallow bobs down his corded neck as you move your hand unthinkingly across to his bare thigh - languid circles, beginning with an innocent attempt at comfort - and quickly corrupting. A divot carving into his brow as you tenderly caress the meat of him. “I suppose you’re right, Marc. I don’t know anything about you. Not really.” With a pained expression, he flattens his hand over the top of yours, tentatively lacing his fingers. “Maybe one day, you’ll feel like talking. But, in the meantime, you should know. There are plenty of hot men in London who would be willing to spit in my mouth and never call - but who won’t also need me to patch up a mysterious bite from the Loch Ness Monster. I have options, darling.”

Marc nods in resignation, albeit, the weight in his face giving way to a sudden, dark smile, carving out an etching of mirth across his cheeks like beauty from stone. It’s the kind of smile which sinks desire through your middle, like the hot, liquid burn of spirit, his half-moon eyes blazing just as bright.

“Sure,” he drawls, in a voice as thick and dark as the shadows coalescing in the hollows of him. As smooth and sweet as nectar. “But how many of those schmucks would fuck you so good your eyes roll back into your skull, honey?”

Fuck.

His words make you physically sweat, a hot prickle dancing across your skin. A clammy slick beneath your palm as Marc moves your hand up and up his thigh, closer towards the bulge which begins to strain against the thin material of those tight, black boxers. “Uhhh,” you whimper, greedy and hungry for him now, heat snaking up your neck. Your core turning over as he drags the tide of you, your body doing his bidding. “How dare you use facts and logic against me?” you bluster, trying to distract from the rising swell within you, even while your voice drums in your throat like a locust’s wings; brittle and tremoring.  

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, not at all. But at the same time? God. You remember how good it feels when you do.

“Besides,” he says, inching your hand further - ever so deliberately - up his leg. “You sure as hell know at least one thing about me. You know how to take me apart, six ways to Sunday. Don’t you, Princess?”

Hnnnnnngggg. “I know a thing or two about that, yeah.”

You shiver as he slides your hand closer to his crotch. You feel the heat bleeding through the thin fabric, and the hard, straining mass of him swell beneath your touch.

“You shouldn’t tempt me, Marc,” you say shakily, breath quickening, a pulse of desire thrumming under your skin. “I had a tragic failed half-wank earlier. I have plenty of… steam to work off.” His hand on top of yours, he moves your palm back and forth up the length of him, until he is hard enough that your fingers can curl and grip him through the soft, black cotton. He’s so warm.

“Do you always make jokes when you’re nervous?” Marc teases, somehow managing to maintain a relatively cool façade, even if you can feel how much he’s aching for more of your touch.

“Oh, you noticed?” you sing-song, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Clever boy.”

“Brat,” he counters darkly, with a curl of his delicious lips, and for that, you punish him by squeezing his cock in your palm until he shudders. His own palms flatten, fingers splaying out across the floor by his hips as though he half expects to fall through it, plummeting -perhaps- along with his bedding need. “Show me,” he commands gruffly, hastily clawing some power back. “Show me how you take me apart.” Marc lifts his gaze to you then, a clear plea in his eyes. His brow still twisted by this perpetual weight, and jagged shards of pain scattered across his face.

He looks at you. He looks at you like Steven was right. Like he needs you. Like he is swept up in it - a force even stronger than the steadily coursing river of want throbbing in his blood.

“Y-you want…?” You hesitate, not forgetting his injuries for one second. “Now? You’re hurt and-“

“-I know my own limits, honey,” he breathes, darks eyes enthralling you entirely. “I can tolerate pain. But I’m not sure I can wait a second more to feel the ways you can give me pleasure.” His gaze flits gently around your face, reading you like a book, cover to cover. Seeing if that’s what you want to. If you didn’t, you are sure he would back off in a heartbeat. But the truth is, you do want him.

No; more than that. You need him, too.

And, the moment he realises it? The stars align.

You are practically fall on to his lips, swinging your body around to straddle his thighs, his warm broad hands clawing desperately to rid you of your clothes. Your tongue shoves greedily over his. He tastes of the hot boil of spirit in your mouth. Of salt and sweat. His stubble rasps your throat as his lips work you and there is a tumult, barrelling and urgent.

With your cooperation, your lower half is soon bare before him, your heat settled over the meat of his thigh, arousal slick and liquid against his warm, firm flesh. Unthinking, chasing your want, you tilt your hips to grind down on him, his quad flexing and providing a divine pressure against your folds as his tongue opens your mouth up, stealing air from you. He snatches a shattered moan from your lips as it blooms from deep within your chest, grabbing hold of your hips and guiding you back and forth, rocking you more vigorously against him.

If you had the sense to move, you’d move. Move to sheath his hard cock inside of you. The veined shaft which he now pumps languidly in the circle of his fist, watching how you use his body to get off with slack-jawed awe. However, what you’re doing feels so good you can’t even imagine forsaking a morsel of this pleasure; not even in favour of promised gains, and so, you stay. You brace your weight carefully against his good shoulder and the lip of the bed, and you grind.

“That’s it, honey. Hop on and finish yourself off on my thigh, huh?” You mewl for him. “Think you earned this, for taking care of daddy, didn’t you?”

God, it feels good.  It’s embarrassing, how quickly you are unravelling. Breathy moans falling past your lips and the glide of your slick heat coating his leg and his arms folding around your waist. His mouth sucking and laving greedily at your tits, the heft of them swaying in his face as you grind and rock yourself into oblivion. His thigh, clenching and shaking beneath you with how much watching you pleasure yourself is turning him on.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he praises, dipping the elastic waistband of his boxers beneath his balls to expose the full length of him to you, sitting heavy and proud against his taut stomach, hard and veined and needy. “Got yourself all worked up, huh?” He speaks with that biting, patronising, soothing edge to his voice. A distilled blend which never fails to take you higher. “Ride daddy’s thigh -just like that - and I promise I’ll make it alllll better.”

You submit a symphony of breathy, almost pious moans to Marc as he watches your every move intently – with awe. You may be the one getting off but you swear the act is dismantling him piece by piece with every nudge of your clit and glide of your folds over his skin, releasing a pool of molten slick over the contoured muscle of his thigh. Taking him apart every time his cock is nudged against his own stomach as you roll your hips, the swell of your belly providing him this delicious fiction as the motion pins his shaft in the space between you. Breaking him with every wet suck or swirl of his tongue or roll and pinch of finger and thumb against your nipples. Wrecking him with the tipping back of your head in ecstasy while he tastes the bead of sweat gathered in the valley of your breasts. Devastating him with each smooth, keening note falling from your pretty mouth, your noises sinking desire like a stone through his middle.

You look at him beneath you as you undulate like a wave on top of him, all hooded gaze and disbelieving lips. You feel his hands clamping at your soft middle, gathering up rolls of flesh as he works you down on him, increasing the pressure against your folds and your aching, swollen clit. He looks delicious, all muscled and sturdy, and you want his body everywhere. You want to take him in your mouth and taste the swell of him on your tongue. Want him sheathed inside you as you sucker him deeper until he is spilling over and up into you.

“Fuck,” he breathes - a wrangled sound, his voice sunken as your end blooms from your centre, catching you off guard. You gush over him, eking out every aftershock and leaving an artwork of dripped slick – pale nectar smeared along his tan brown thigh which now glistens and shines like moonlight beneath you. “Fuck, baby. So fucking hot.”

You shudder down from your high, core still fluttering for him, and your relief is only momentary. As soon as you peel open your screwed-shut eyes and witness the wrecked expression on Marc’s face – the sheer wantonness of him – you are crawling with an urgent need all over again. You look down at him as he groans and helplessly fucks himself into the circle of his fist, looking fit to pop and spill his seed over his knuckles. You’d like to see that; but you have other, more devious plans for him.

You can plainly see the strain of both his torment and pleasure playing over his features. With a grunt, he quickly lifts and rocks the bottle to down another messy swig of whisky, the sharp odour eddying between you with his ragged breath. He is so undone with pain and want alike that a liberal drip sidles from out of the corner of his mouth, the bead rolling down his chest, a rivulet coursing between the meat of his pecs.

“Can I… help you?” you offer breathily, arcing your brow and nodding down to his needy length. “I… I can be gentle with you.”

“I… I don’t mind if you aren’t,” he responds, thoroughly caved-in by need, face all crumpled with it, body even hunched as though he buckles under the weight of it. “Please.”  

He begs you. The sheer force and command of him subdued, for now, he must finally know how it feels – to be at your mercy. The strength and power of him compromised, his pleasure hanging by a thread which you could dangle in front of him for hours, if you wanted. You could tease him and torment him in all the ways he teases you. Take him apart, piece by piece. Take him to the edge and back again. But… as much as you think you would like that, there is something in his eyes which makes you want to be a little more generous.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Marc,” you soothe. No more pain for him. No pain. Enough. Marc looks like he’s had enough dealings with pain to last a lifetime, and you think it’s about time something changed. You think he deserves softness, and so, you give him a promise as soft as the kiss you plant, just below his ear. “Gonna take care of you, baby. Going to make you feel good.”

When your soft, dulcet tones filter into the shell of his ear, Marc’s face twists with a new burden. A burden which seems to collapse him more so than all the others you’ve seen so far.

You climb off from his thigh, shifting your body back so that you can arc your mouth down over him. “So beautiful, all spread out for me like this,” you praise, leaning to trail your mouth down his neck, your tongue laving at the valley of his chest and lapping up the bead of amber liquid. “Don’t need to worry,” you kiss across his skin. “Going to look after you, Marc. I’m right here.” You suck on him, on the meat of his pecs, tracing your fluid tongue over each ridge and contour. Flicking across his nipples until they harden and he whimpers - a delicious, cracked-open sound. With a wolfish, crescent grin, you lick and mouth over his abs, settling yourself in between his thighs and bracing your palms against them as you dip hungrily towards him, swiping your tongue around the swollen, ruddy head of his cock and collecting the salty pearl of precum, the taste of him flooding your tongue.

“Fuck. I…” Marc shudders, fumbling for words as you nuzzle your nose into the dense, grizzled hair at the base of him, inhaling his musk. As you flatten your tongue and lick a broad stripe along the underside of his shaft, relishing the ripple of his veins and contours as you travel up to the tip of him. His cock twitches, swollen and needy and desperate – so desperate - to be enveloped by the warm cavern of your mouth.

“What?” you ask playfully, travelling back to the base of him and sucking his heavy balls into your mouth, releasing them with a gentle pop. “What do you want, Marc? What do you need?” You apply a pattern of kitten licks and kisses along the length of him, disappearing the tip of him between the petals of your lips.

“God,” he shivers, voice full of holes. He throws his head back on to the lip of the mattress, tipping that sharp, angled jaw and nose up to the sky.

“There are no gods here, Marc. Only me. Only you and me. So tell me what you need.”  

You suck at him a little harder, taking him deeper into your mouth, engulfing him and he engorges to his full stretch. Your ministrations are meticulous; perfectly calculated. Perfectly precise. You do know. Exactly how to take him apart. His eyes practically roll back into his head and he lays a pattern of terse breaths as though he’s trying to stave of his end already. You can tell that he’s fighting it. Trying not to give in to you so easily. Marc; always so strong. So fucking stoic. And here you have him, little whimpers and whines spilling liberally from his lips.

“What do you need, Marc?”

He screws his face up momentarily, before his jaw drops open with a shocked gust of breath as you work him harder, his hips chasing you as he fucks up into your mouth. “More. Need more.” he pleads. “More of you.”

“Mmmmm,” you hum around his shaft, his head dropping back down simply -it seems- so that he can look at you in awe. His hand hovers above your head, guiding you down on to him again and again with the scarcest of contact, as though you are his gentle bird.

I’ll take care of you, Marc. I’ll take care of you if you’ll let me.

“Please. Please. Please,” he begs. So beautiful. Such pretty offerings.  Such jewelled words, his length heavy and thick and warm on your tongue. His eyes are spiking with tears of frustration, his hips bucking to surge into the circle of your throat; gently, languidly – you are in control. His thighs are shaking. His abs rippling and biceps clenching as the string in him tightens, preparing to snap. His body preparing to shoot his load into you. His palms flattened and braced against the floor.

You want him. You want him like this; soft and bare and slow.

Your head bobs more vigorously on his cock, taking him faster and deeper and you know that he’s close. You know, and as soon as you taste the first flood of his tang spilling over, you scrape two fingers through the slick you had pooled on his thigh, gathering it up and unceremoniously shoving the taste of yourself across the flat of his tongue. His lips clamp around your fingers instantly, obediently, eagerly cleaning every drop from you as he moans around your slickened digits.

The flavour of your release seemingly makes Marc’s own orgasm deepen and heighten too. His cock pumps his warm seed into your throat, and you feel the zip of each pulse shooting across your tongue as you drain every last drop from him, swallowing him down with relish.

He shudders down from his high, length softening quickly and his chest still lightly heaving. You relinquish him from your mouth, swiping the tang of him from your teeth and lips with a lazy swipe of your tongue. He looks sleepy and sated -entirely spent- his lashes fanning out as his blinks become long and slowed. He reaches for you. Reaches his palm out to cup your cheek. Draws you gently to his lips. You bask in this softer glow of him – his eyes lit and glinting, but this time, not with a hot, fiery desire, nor that shadowed glint of steel. This time, the glow you find there is gentle and constant. Something more akin to moonlight.

You did always like the night. You always were a nocturnal animal, but oh boy, do you love to see him shine for you.  

Marc gathers you up, and together, you bundle carefully into the bed. He lies on his side, on his good shoulder, and you -laying on your back - swell with emotion as you feel him nuzzle into your side. Still, you can already feel the shadows beginning to cling to you. Can feel the afterglow giving way to that familiar dark.

“I need you to go,” Marc resonates, his sudden and unfeeling voice vibrating through your chest as though he means to target your heart, with brutal precision. “You have to be gone before I wake up.” Perhaps he does mean it. To hurt you. Isn’t everything he does so very deliberate? “Please. Can you just trust me?”

Can you? Can you trust him?

“Okay. Okay, Marc. I’ll go.”

Now? Is that what he means?

And yet, Marc’s arm tightens around your middle, his thumb drawing idle patterns down your side, as though he expressly wants you to stay. For a moment, you freeze there, unsure how to react to this unheard of affection from him. Then, in the next moment, his small voice cuts through the mellow dark. “Would you…” He sighs and tries again. “Would you… Tell me something about yourself? Anything. Please.”

Oh, Marc, you plead inwardly. Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t ask for more, unless you’re sure that you actually want it from me.

Still, despite the flutter of locusts swarming in the pit of you you steel yourself, losing your fingers in his dense tangle of curls. “I’m afraid that’s redacted, baby,” you state coolly, a wry smile painting your features. That’s right. Two can play at that game.

Marc doesn’t fight you on it. Not at first. Probably assumes it’s the least he deserves. For our part, you fully intend to continue being steely and aloof; that is, until his thumb skims a spot on your side which tickles, sending a chaotic shiver through your body. Fracturing your resolve, an involuntary giggle explodes from your chest.

“Are you ticklish here?” Marc asks, targeting the precise spot again, and you can hear the unfettered smile which curls his mouth as he learns this about you.

“Sorry. ‘Fraid that’s redacted too.”

However, try as you might to be like him – all cold and stoic – that just isn’t you. And so, when Marc digs his fingers into your side once more, you can’t help it. Your bright, melodic laugh fills the room. And, from the way Marc squeezes you a little more tightly, you wonder if it might just have filled his heart too.

“You need to stop making me laugh, sweetheart,” Marc complains. “It kinda hurts.”

“No, thank you,” you respond firmly.

“No?”

“No. I think I prefer seeing you happy.” Against you, you feel Marc expel a long, contented breath. “Now shut that pretty mouth, would you, and get some rest?”

“Brat.” You feel the meat of his cheek shift against your chest, and you know that he is smiling.

“Er. Excuse me?” you chide good-naturedly. “Was that backchat?”

“No, Ma’am,” he humours you. “Copy that.”

Combing your hand through Marc’s inky curls, you smooth them back from his forehead, until his eyes are almost weighed by sleep.

“You know,” you breathe softly, before lights out. Something you need to get off of your chest. “I don’t want to hurt you, Marc, but I… I can’t heal you either.”

He stiffens against you, and there is a jagged silence. A stretched moment before he finds the right words. “I don’t need you to heal me. I just…” He swallows.

“What?” Tell me what you need.

“I just,” his voice cracks, pain splintering his robust, smooth tone into pieces. You weren’t ready for it to break your heart. You weren’t ready either, for the tears which shimmer violently in his eyes as he battles valiantly to restrain them. “I just need a little help.”

“Oh, Marc,” you soothe, as a single, disobedient tear shivers over the bridge of his beautiful, prominent nose. He sniffs and huffs a frustrated breath through gritted teeth. And, you do everything you can to take care of him, in this moment. To promise him that you’ll take care of him. You soothe him, and you pull his head into your lap, stroking his curls back from his forehead until he falls asleep.

The Next Morning

Steven wakes up to an empty bed, and, as usual, starts the day by sitting bolt upright, in a panic.

“Owww!” he complains, as pain shoots liberally through his… His shoulder? Ribs? No wait. Yep. His whole body. “Aaaaahhh,” he groans, clamping a hand over his racing heart, adrenalin firing as he works back through the chain of events since he was last fronting.

The blood. He remembers the blood.

He remembers… you.

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Marc smooths calmly.

“Oh yeah!” Steven begins sarcastically. “Just another completely normal one? I don’t think we are okay actually, Marc, are we?” Yes, Steven is definitely freaking out. A giant jackal bite to the shoulder will do that to a person, no doubt. Eyes wide, Steven tips his head up to the ceiling. “Khonshu – hiya. Excuse me? This absolutely kills. Any chance we could grab the suit for a minute, mate? If it’s not too much trouble?”

“He’s pissed at us, Steven,” Marc reminds him. “He’s just letting us stew.”

Steven points his face upwards again. “Is this because I called you a pigeon? So sorry about that. You’re a swan, honestly. A majestic swan, yeah?”

“He’s not coming yet, buddy. I’m sorry.”

“It bloody hurts, Marc!”

“Yeah. I know it does. Look, why don’t I take the body for today? You sit this one out. Jump back in when Khonshu’s being less of an ass. Alright, pal?”

Steven’s eyes soften, glimpsing Marc’s reflection and his steady calm in the bottle of whisky by the bedside. “You’d do that? For me?”

“Yeah, Steven. That’s what friends are for.”

“That’s really lovely of you.”

“I… uh. I also wanted to thank you, for what you did last night.”

“No problem, Marc. I think you just need to remember you’re not alone, anymore, yeah? That, and to feed Gus 4. I can’t go through anymore fish.”

“Alright then, buddy. Let’s not get all mushy. Let me sub in, would you? Let’s get you out of this.”

“Yeah. Just a minute.” Steven picks up Marc’s phone, flipping it open. “Need to do summink first. One sec, yeah?”

“Wait. What are you doing?” Marc asks in a rare panic. “Don’t you do that, bud.”

However, to Marc’s horror – probably - Steven continues to type out a message. To you. “Hiya. Thank you for what you did for me last night. You’re so completely lovely. Can I take you out to dinner? If you would like to. No pressure or anything. Not trying to be creepy. Promise. Marc Spector xxx”

Steven hears Marc groan. Looks back to his reflection and sees that the guy is covering his face with his palms.

He feels like Marc will want to murder him; but that’s okay. He’s pretty confident that he can’t actually take him out. He kinds thinks he needs him, actually. Thinks they’re a team now. Need each other.

“What in the hell were you thinking?! Do you think she’s ever going to message me back again now that you’ve-“

-The phone dings brightly in Steven’s palm.

With surprise and delight, he opens up your reply. “Alright. But my schedule is a lil unpredictable, shortcake. Wait by the phone?”

A delighted, even smile beams out from Steven’s face.

Marc tries, to the best of ability, to restrain his own, mirroring smile, but he can’t quite manage it.

“Okay. You’ve gone and done it now. Time to sub me in, bud.”

Steven’s eyebrows shoot up, his eyes widening. “Are you sure?”

“Yeahhhh,” Marc says in a resigned tone. “Seems like I owe you a coupla favours.”

Steven’s eyes roll back, and Marc takes control of the body, bedding himself in for another day of pain. It’s okay though; after all, he’s become pretty used to that feeling. To a world of hurt. That is, until lately. Until there was you. Marc truly does hope he can protect you. And maybe… Maybe he really can, now that he’s no longer alone.

For a moment, Marc stares, dumfounded, down at the phone in his palm, before he lands on just the right thing to say. “Copy that.”

All Marc has known for a long time has been pain.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s time for a change.

“Marc’s got a girlfriend,” Steven sing-songs, as Marc crosses to the bathroom mirror.

“Shut up,” Marc snipes, but he still can’t mask his smile all the way.

THE END

Hiyaaa! :D I hope you enjoyed this, and if you did, please consider reblogging and/or leaving feedback! That would mean a lot. Thanks so much for reading, and I will have more Moon Knight content coming soon (because I’m a mess and I slipped and fell in a pit of hyperfixation). Lotsa love, and wishes for a lovely day. Luna.

[laufire]

I wanted to post my sortings (following the Sorting Hat Chats model) of two of my Supernatural faves (I agree -at least for now; there’s too much content lol- on Castiel as a Lion Badger, so this would complete the set), so here it is.

Ruby

I think she could constitute a complicated case to sort, because we only see her real face in her damn last scene lol. What she did before that was put up a front explicitly to manipulate Sam.

She screams Exploded/Blinded Lion primary to me. She’s ALL about The Cause, aka freeing the demons, to the exclusion of everything, and she’s willing to use anybody, herself included, as a tool to achieve it; see offering her very body and blood for the cause (to Sam, to Alastair). She does all this with purpose, determination, and even joy, because it’s all to fulfill that goal.

Her secondary could be Snake; it’s useful for spies and double agents, and she’s playing a part for almost the entirety of her run. But she strikes me more as a Bird secondary. Her play is not improvised, it’s a long con. She definitely fits the traits of researcher and collector (her witchcraft). She’s an strategist more than a fluid pantser, basically. To go with the handy door metaphor: she sees a locked door and she goes through her box of keys until she find the right one (i.e., the way she presses Sam). I also think there’s a relief in her shedding the mask that responds to someone that’s carefully maintained a painstakingly constructed cover, instead of someone with ease to play different roles on demand.

I’d have to rewatch her cameo in 15x13 again (yes, I saw it as soon as I heard she appeared), to see how it fits. At first it’d appear that the Empty took a toll on her: she tells Castiel where to find what he’s looking for on the promise of helping her get out. Later it turns out she omitted that Hellhounds were waiting for them -I’m guessing that wouldn’t have been too bad for Castiel, but it would’ve for the brothers lol. Does she have plans if Castiel makes good on his promise? Is it a personal revenge on the brothers for killing her? For ending the cause? Is she thinking, well they’ll probably succeed but there’s no reason for me to make it easy for those assholes? Does she simply find the idea funny? I’ll have to think about this xDD, but these options don’t feel like a contradiction of the above, so.

Speaking of Sam: I think that in order to appeal to him, she presented herself as a fellow Snake Lion. She empathized her past as a human to connect to him (“I know what it is to lose someone too”), she talked about not wanting to come in between the ~brothers’ precious bond (trololol), and she showed herself ready to help him and later even for Dean for who they were, like when she told Alastair she’d give him Anna if he left her leave with the brothers (which means she not only presented herself like this to Sam, but that she used this persona for everyone. Something that again, says more Bird than Snake to me). And she did it by making big Lion moves like being ready to sacrifice herself for the brothers’ cause in “Jus in Bello”, rescuing Sam from the Deadly Sins, fighting her old coven leader, etc.

So to summarize: I think she’s a (Blinded) Lion Bird, aka The Vigilante. That moniker strangely fits her: “self-appointed doer of justice”. Just, you know, for an unpopular side xDD. And her presentation as a Snake Lion is called The Rebel, which I think is very fitting.

Bela Talbot

I thought a lot about it, and I came to the conclusion that she feels like a Burnt Snake primary. It’s partially through a process of elimination: none of the other feel right for her, at all. She’s not at all an Idealist primary IMO, ruling out Lion and Bird. That means she’s a Loyalist... except she has absolutely nobody to be Loyal too, and it seems she never had. Her cat appears for one (1) brief moment and that seems to be her closest relationship ffs :( (the cat warns her when burglars like Dean come to steal lol).

That leaves Badger or Snake, and I think Snake fits better. She is more internal than external/group oriented, decided, definitely gives that ~lose with morals impression. @missbrunettebarbie has a post about how Burnt Snakes might also be likely to get attached to material things, to compensate, and I think that fits her and other Burnt Snakes I’ve identified or written myself.

Other than the lack of an inner circle that fulfills that need for her, I think another reason that she’s Burnt is the sentence to Hell she’s been living with for a decade. Snakes put a lot of value in freedom, and she’s doomed to end up the eternal prison. She’s lonely and disillusioned. She repays with money or favors, and she doesn’t truly connect with anyone, and knowing her expiration date -something that’d encourage said lose morals- wouldn’t help there. Why bother. In particular I think this makes her come across as a Young Snake: not caring about consequences or people, hedonistic, prioritizing instant gratification, etc. (which makes me think about how people can get stuck on the age development of a huge trauma. I’m even sadder about her primary now -Burnt primaries already make me prone to ~protectiveness).

Her Snake secondary was clearer. I could entertain Bird secondary, given her taste for collecting obscure objects to help her in her job and how much she’s clearly researched and learned about the supernatural. But she’s definitely more of an improviser. She’s extremely adaptive and thinks on the fly, like how she pretended Dean and her had been having sex in the room to stop a security guard from coming. Her wins are more about opportunism than about planing: inserting herself in Bobby’s rescue mission to steal the Colt, stealing the tickets from Dean. And of course, one can’t ever forget, she was introduced to the show in disguise (a clearly quickly improvised one, at that). She also takes extreme joy in these games, which I think it’s what Dean (who I personally see as a Snake secondary too) responded to in her.

So in conclusion: Bela is a Double Snake, with an immature and Petrified primary, aka The Trickster (this description, perfectly apt for her, obviously reminds me of a character with the same title in the show, Gabriel. Who I like don’t get me wrong, -and who on first glance I’d also sort as a Double Snake, btw-, but this makes me even angrier at fandom’s difference of reaction to both characters ¬¬).

[daresplaining]

A Few Thoughts About the Current Run

    I feel like I ought to say a few things about my feelings on Zdarsky’s run, as of right now (August 2020, pre-Annual-- that may be important). I haven’t said much about this run, and I should admit that I actually stopped reading it for a while. At a certain point, I realized I was dreading the release of each preview, and took that as a sign that maybe I should take a break and just re-read some back issues instead. This is, above all, supposed to be fun; I never, ever want reading DD to feel like a chore.  

    That said, I am now caught up and feel ready to begin untangling exactly why this run is so distasteful to me. I’ve been fortunate to have other DD fans to chat with about this, which has helped me to pinpoint what my problems are... because on paper, this run seems like something I’d enjoy. Matt accidentally kills a guy; that’s always fun. Marco Checchetto is great. The story explores Daredevil’s relationship with the citizens of Hell’s Kitchen, which I love. Foggy helps Matt with an action-y Daredevil thing; that’s awesome. There are some very cool fights. Elektra is in it. Stilt-Man is (briefly) in it. It has all the trappings of an interesting narrative. But there is a giant hole in the middle of this run, and that hole is Matt Murdock-shaped and impossible to ignore.     

    I read Daredevil comics for a lot of things (anyone who’s been following me for the past few years might think I read Daredevil comics for Mike Murdock, and you may have a point there) but first and foremost, I read them for Matt. There is a lot that makes a good DD story great-- historically, the comic has featured great supporting casts, and that’s another problem with this run that I’ll get back to in a minute-- but Matt is always the anchor. One of the greatest strengths in Daredevil comes from the fact that the protagonist is such a compelling character. You are interested in what he’s doing. You want to follow his story. You enjoy being inside his head. I’m not saying that you can’t write a good Matt-free Daredevil story-- you definitely can. But if Matt is present and written poorly, the whole story will collapse around him, and that’s been my experience with Zdarsky’s run. Part of the reason I’ve taken so long to write this post is because I’ve been trying to figure out if my complaint comes from my own personal taste-- which is not a basis on which I can critique this comic-- or whether the problem is inherent in the work itself. Having discussed it with other people, I feel comfortable saying that I think the problem is in the writing. 

    Zdarsky’s Matt feels profoundly unfamiliar to me, and that in itself isn’t necessarily a problem, but I don’t find this new version of my favorite superhero interesting. I actually find him a little repellant. If this run had been my introduction to Daredevil, I would’ve said “Nope” and read something else. Matt is a character with depth. He is intensely multifaceted. His relationship to superheroing is complicated, his views on justice and morality are rich and often contradictory. Zdarsky somehow missed all of that and has crafted a one-dimensional character with a blatantly black-and-white sense of morality. Matt’s reaction to accidentally killing someone seems to be to decide that all superheroes are bad-- something I complained about at the beginning of the run and which, unfortunately, only grew more annoying as the story progressed. Zdarsky’s Matt is painfully self-righteous, to a degree that makes him extremely unlikeable (at least to me). And yes, Matt has been written as unlikeable before. I actually love when Matt behaves badly; I find that fascinating from a narrative perspective. But I’ve realized that the key reason that has been effective in the past is because the story has never condoned that behavior. When Matt was emotionally abusive toward Heather Glenn, Frank Miller went out of his way to show us-- via the side characters, via blatant expressions of Heather’s pain-- that Matt was in the wrong. When Matt was a jerk in Bendis’ and Brubaker’s runs, when he drove his friends away, when he acted irrationally and harmfully, the narrative commented on that jerkiness and irrationality. 

    But Zdarsky does not do that in his run. He presents Matt’s irrational and jerkish behavior without comment or nuance, as if it’s a perfectly normal, reasonable way for Matt to act under the circumstances, and I have been surprised to realize how distasteful I find that, and how bad it makes Matt look. There’s a difference between having a character who is comfortably flawed-- whose behavior you’re supposed to occasionally question-- and a character who is just unpleasant and unlikeable, seemingly by accident. In the most recent issue (#21), Matt has an extremely upsetting interaction with Spider-Man, one of his oldest friends, and Matt is positioned as heroic for behaving this way, and it made me feel a little ill, because there’s no textual examination or questioning of this behavior. It’s just Matt, pushing people away, being Angsty(TM) and Gritty(TM) and lone wolf-y just because, in a way that is grating and unpleasant and completely lacks nuance. 

    The other major element of Zdarsky’s characterization of Matt is religion. I’ve mentioned before (as have other DD fans before me) that Matt is not generally written as religious, and it’s a strange phenomenon that this characterization has appeared in multiple adaptations (the movie and the Netflix show) while having very little actual presence in the source material. But it was a key theme in the Netflix show, and while hopefully that influence will disappear from the comics as more time passes, we are still in a honeymoon phase wherein MCU elements are still popping up in the 616 universe. It’s clear that Zdarsky really liked the show, and Soule as well; I’m certainly not letting Soule off the hook here, because the idea of Matt being devoutly Christian showed up his run first. But there, you could get away from it if it wasn’t your thing (which, for me, it’s not). Soule had whole story arcs that didn’t mention it. But Zdarsky has made it 75% of Matt’s personality. When he isn’t fighting or sleeping with someone in this run, Matt is angsting about God. 

    I hesitate to complain about this because it’s Zdarsky’s right as a DD writer to change the protagonist however he likes. It’s frustrating, yes, but not actually a sign of bad writing per se. Plus, not everyone is me. Many people-- probably including many people who were fans of the Netflix show and are entering the comics via that connection (which seems to be the target audience for this run)-- may be religious and may connect to MCU/Zdarsky Matt in that way. And that’s wonderful. I want to be very clear: it’s not the religiousness itself that I’m complaining about. My complaint is this: if you’re going to drastically alter a character, you need to back it up. You need to dig into it, make that new personality element feel powerful and real, and integrate it into the character’s pre-existing personality. And if you’re going to base the entirety of that character’s emotional journey on that new trait, you need to work to make sure it’s accessible to your readership. I, as a non-religious person, have no sense of why Matt is so upset about God. I have no frame of reference for his pain, either from my own experiences or from previous Daredevil continuity, and Zdarsky does nothing to develop or explore the basis of Matt’s faith, and so it all just falls flat. I feel alienated by this run. I see an angsty, self-righteous, prickly jerk ranting about needing to do God’s will, and then I put the issue down and read some She-Hulk instead. If Zdarsky (or Soule-- again, he could have done this too) had made an effort to actually explore and explain Matt’s feelings about his religion, rather than lazily shoving that characterization in there and assuming readers will just accept it, it wouldn’t bother me nearly as much as it has. 

    Also, I feel I have to mention; this is a fantasy universe. Matt went to Hell and yelled at Mephisto in Nocenti’s run, and it was awesome. Maybe this is just me, but if you’re going to bring in religion, at least have some fun with it! Bookend Nocenti’s run: Matt goes to Heaven, runs into God, and she gives him some free therapy and a souvenir t-shirt (or, I don’t know, something). To give Zdarsky credit, he did at least hint at that sort of thing in Matt’s conversation with Reed Richards in #9. 

    I'm going to cut this post short, because I really don’t enjoy writing negative reviews. I’d much rather post about things I love, and over the next few weeks I do plan to highlight aspects of this run that I’ve enjoyed. But I’ll end by saying that the weaknesses in Matt’s characterization could have been mitigated by a great supporting cast. Having prominent secondary protagonists would have provided outside perspectives on Matt’s behavior and given the reader other characters to root for when he got too out-of-hand. They would have drawn out the human elements in Matt’s character and helped give him that nuance he so desperately needs. But this run, just like Soule’s before it, is woefully underpopulated. Foggy’s presence is extremely weak and his appearances far too infrequent. Apart from brief cameos in MacKay’s Man Without Fear mini, Kirsten McDuffie and Sam Chung have both vanished, and I’m worried that Kirsten might have joined Milla Donovan in the limbo of still-living-but-permanently-benched ex-love interests. The women in this run are all either villains or people for Matt to sleep with (I was pumped about Elektra’s return and the idea of her training Matt, but her characterization was disappointing (I may write a separate post about this), and Mindy Libris could have been really compelling as a moral person trying to survive life in a crime family, but instead she was just a one-note, underdeveloped victim for Matt to lust after). To Zdarsky’s credit, he has clearly been trying to give the Kingpin a humanizing story arc, but even that I haven’t found compelling enough to want to keep reading (though that could just be me). Cole North was intriguing at first, but he ended up feeling more like a concept than an actual person. And none of these characters engage with Matt on a human, emotional level, which is what a good supporting cast needs to do. I commented early-on that this run felt like all flash and no bang (Is that a term? It is now.) and I think I still stand by that-- it’s all bombastic plot concepts and big ideas without any of the actual development or nuance necessary to make them work. There is nothing in this run that has pulled me in and held my interest; in the absence of a Matt I can connect to, I need something, and so far I haven’t found it. 

    I could go on, but I think I’ve made my point. This run was nominated for an Eisner for best ongoing series, so apparently someone likes it, but it has become clear that-- so far, anyway-- it’s just not right for me.  

[mrs-nate-humphrey]

reading your tags on that post about dan’s writing, and it’s kinda ironic that come season 6, dan is literally the only (remaining) main character who actually does forge his own path, and ends his story quite differently than his parents. chuck pretty much immediately embraces the destiny his own father laid out for him (only pushing back when that destiny is threatened), nate - despite trying to break free of the cycle - ends up following in his father’s footsteps closely enough to the point of committing the same crimes, serena basically gives up on her dreams and focuses on being a socialite and finding love, and blair lays down everything she was working towards in previous seasons to become eleanor 2.0, running waldorf designs. dan and dan alone looked at both his father’s and mother’s paths, explicitly went “nah”, and did something completely different. bad, maybe, but different nonetheless. (can’t really speak to what jenny or vanessa ended up doing since we literally don’t know beyond their brief cameos in 6x10 🙃 but, y’know)

sorry about getting to this SO late! i actually had a perfect response to you, but i was too sleepy to answer when i got your ask, and then when i woke up i'd totally forgotten what i was gonna say :/ i'm gonna give it another go though, hopefully i nail what i wanted to say!

first off, i found this a really interesting take!! most analysis i've seen goes along the lines of like - dan does technically follow his father's footsteps by like... marrying one woman when he's in love with another - but that, in itself is a very dair reading. i think it's fair to say in s6 he's still not over blair - i mean, in 6x05 he's trying to win her back :( so given what we see in s6 i think it's not unreasonable to interpret the derena wedding (sadly) as dan being in love w/ blair but settling for serena.

THAT SAID- what we never take into account is those 5 years that are skipped, and how the derena wedding takes place in like... 2017? from s1- s6, pre time skip - that itself is 5 years, and during that time we see dan fall in love w/ serena, fall out of love with serena, and fall in love with blair. 5 years is a lot of time, enough time to fall out of love with someone (dan's done it before, maybe he could do it again) - so who's to say what happened in those 5 years. maybe he and serena are actually solid now, maybe dan doesn't want blair anymore, whatever. it's absolutely open to interpretation imo.

i also don't know if we can 100% say that dan did or didn't follow the footsteps of his parents - we don't really know enough about rufus or alison to be able to say that imo. we can see the patterns of like.. nate & howard, for instance, because the show really went into that, but with rufus & alison... so much of their backstory is left totally up in the air.

much like rufus, dan's creativity centres people he has strong emotional sentiments for, and much like alison, dan is not above using his writing in ways that are fuelled by venting/spite/other negativity, rather than just love songs (looking at you, rufus). maybe s6!dan has parallels with rufus back when he was actually a famous rock star, before he became forgotten? dan, for the first time in his life, is actually popular & desired by everyone, on his own merit, not because he's friends with nate or serena's ex or blair's boyfriend or... any of those things.

so what i'm saying is it's extremely possible rufus or alison had a similar arc & we never saw it- imo, it wouldn't be super out of character for either of them.

what you're saying 100% makes sense, though!!! i'd never thought about it like that before, but... yeah. it's a solid take on what we got to see from canon.

[bittybattybunny]

Did Kai have any sort of family after losing her foster family and becoming the Demon King? Or did she only have her husband?

Yes actually!!! A lot of Kai’s own story involves her own found family collection (i say collection just. cuz she tends to outlive them)

I’ve briefly mentioned she has a few kids and you see them in one of my sketchbook tours

but she also has a group of friends who she was close to

and the opening chapter of one of her ‘stories’ involves her dealing with the loss of a close friend she considered family (she even tried to go through legal means to see him but when humans turned around and said fuck you she snuck in. I can actually post this writing if people wanna read it?)

She also has some of her adoptive family still alive tho the bloodline is thinner. The Hellsing family she was raised in still exists to a point in her story (before the great catastrophe at least) Her whole ‘became the demon king’ thing happened when her uncle attacked her but she was able to get her sister in law and unborn nephew to escape while she distracted the rest (i have a whole ass animatic planned for this to the song “monster” from frozen’s musical. someday. someday I’ll be able to sit down on it weep)

This nephew was the one who hired Ren to help find “the king of fear” as she was known at that point. Alex is a good boy. His son was the one who went to find his great aunt after Ren’s death and she fully became a fallen god and offered her a place to stay and just. try to relax. She ended up falling into a deep sleep for a while and his family was the ones to build the ‘tomb’ she normally rests in when ever she has these extreme ‘low energy’ periods which can last between 5 years to her longest one was 5000. Typically she’ll rest for between 20-50 years at a time. and there’s a legit reason she does this too. But that’s not about family---

Point is that family is still very fond of their matriarchal demoness and she helped them found “Prometheus” a group to help humans deal with monsters and monsters live in peace. (cuz boy howdy do people have trigger fingers) there are other groups in their world with either similar goals or ones to ‘suppress’ monsters (example: The Order is a group who sees monsters as tools and lesser beings. sometimes Prometheus is forced to work with them and normally they send strong demons or dragons and such so that The Order can’t do anything to their operative. it was on one of these collaborations that Kai kidnapped Booberry from them. she regrets nothing.)

Kai often just refers to the current descendant as just “her nephew” as she’s too lazy to shove the amount of “great” in front of it because she’s old. there’s only one case of a niece and that’s where the bloodline ended (again that’s another story all together)

When Kai woke up after the Great Catastrophe alone she ended up meeting a young man named Leo (who if you look in Kai’s tag on my blog you can see him!) Who she bonded with and she likes hanging out with (and there’s other things but I’m not gonna talk about it)

There’s also her ‘generals’ and a few of them are gonna show in TLC soon (just a brief cameo) A group of 4 who’ve met Kai in a few incarnations and they always tend to get along. Original names were Matt, Trisha, Faith, and Maki is Maki (she’s an elf so she lives longer) Current names are Byron, Tiffny, Jacob and Maki. These four actually form Ren’s party when he’s trying to find his wife at the actual start of “Nightmare’s Dream” and you learn they each have a connection to Kai through the story.

Matt/Branden/Byron; he’s featured in the writing I mentioned up top, he’s kinda similar to Leo in the way he interacts with Kai as an almost human morality pet for Kai. He used to be Kai’s student when she was teaching, and his father was the warden at the jail her friend Sammy was in (this is the friend she lost) Matt can see through her disguise when she’s showcasing nightmares. Kai can cause hallucinations on targets using her ‘fear’ hence her title “king of fear” and normally they are only visible to her and her target. But Matt can see them.

He ends up getting in trouble a few times; once with a tribe of demons who want to turn children into imps, once with the literal Anti christ, once with a haunted house. And each time Kai was there and ends up saving him.

Matt later is in an accident and ends up reincarnating as a winged human named Branden and has all his past memories. So when he starts working at Prometheus as one of their ‘informants’ (aka he goes to gather information in both human and supernatural affairs. he’s referred to often as the angel of trust because of his silver tongue) and he meets her again he shouts something from one of his classes with her causing her to snap back on reflex until she realizes (running joke is Kai loathes Julius Ceaser and if you say his name she always whips around shouting “WAS A SLUT AND A HARLOT” in a very aggressive tone. It makes people laugh when she does and she always gets embarrassed afterwards)

The two of them end up working together for a while and become good friends (and maybe a bit more but they never state really) but then when with his new work partner Trisha (nicknamed angel of death, she works in the sector that deals with cleanup) he ends up betraying Prometheus and Trisha rips his wings off and kills him (this is the context between the ‘redraw’ meme I do every few years of a man with a bleeding back drowning)

Trisha is also someone who grew close to Kai (hence she killed Branden because his folly led to Kai nearly going berserk) but she was killed by a sleeper agent from the order. And this is how Kai lost two of her close friends.

Now backing up to Sammy the inmate one; he was with her when Kai met her first child, the young moon goddess Artemis. Arty is a constant for the demoness ever since she picked her up in the woods (her arc also has one of my favorite kai lines: (which i can’t find the direct line but)

Sam shuddered as he looked around the woods, “Do you ever feel like there’s 100 eyes watching you?”

“Yes but it didn’t work out so we broke up.” The demon responded flatly as she looked around with a deep set scowl.

While she was out with Sammy when he was hunting they ended up finding a little girl who turned out to be a new goddess and her elder sister was kidnapped by the embodiment of Greed in his attempt to become a god. Kai ends up stopping this but also kinda ends up becoming Arty’s mom. While she doesn’t raised Arty fully she does do a lot of teaching and such for her and does refer to her as “her daughter” and Arty calls her mom. when the great catastrophe occurs, Arty is one of the few gods who remained when the rest went to new ‘realms’ or simply vanished and is considered one of the main gods of their world because of this.

And then there’s her son Ganon, an Orc Lord she adopted when his village was ruined. he currently poses as her ‘demon king’ while she pretends to be the chancellor (this is the ruse she uses. normally heroes will fight the ‘king’ and lose but if they actually are a threat or have poor reasoning she kills them from behind. this is also how the story starts as someone found a spell to try and incapacitate her buttt)

There’s also morte and her daughter demeter (I’ve shown them before, a set of necromancers) who she’s very friendly with. Demeter even calls her aunty Kaya and loves to sit on her lap and such during meetings. (i have one snippet when Kai was recruiting someone to their side but hadn’t told her yet she was the REAL demon king and Demeter was sitting on her lap laughing) Morte is thankful to Kai for saving her circus (Morte runs a circus that helps those stuck in limbo pass on but at one point demons of sin over took it in a way to gather souls)

There’s also her friend Ciera, the daughter of the girm reaper. she’s Kai’s best friend for the most part of her life, and is the one who helps Ren when the gods of life and death try to prevent him from reincarnating again (which is like other things a whole other story) (she also briefly shows in Bone Stealer at one point. While visiting bunny’s sick grandmother, Bunny and Steve run into Ciera as she’s leaving. Steve stops Bunny from attacking her) She’s over all chill.

There’s also Nicki. Kai’s ‘twin’ brother. He’s the ‘bad guy’ through the arc that contains Leo and sets up ‘the great Split’ that Kai will cause (this is lore/plot stuff) He originally was raised to hate her by their maternal Uncle who’s a arch mage like Ren however he’s fallen due to his hatred of Kai’s birth. Nicki is not really her brother (in the first life) but a failed clone of the demoness. When Kai is reborn Nicki gets to actually be her brother and the two get along really well and he’s very protective of his sister now that he understands what her actual deal is and not the bs his uncle fed him. Before the rebirth too Nicki helped kai solve some stuff and worked with her until his death (unlike her, he was not immortal)

And then Kai actually has two bio children with Ren! Akito her son takes after her and he’s the one who takes over her role as the true demon king of Tir-Na-Nocht so she’s able to die and try life again, and a daughter, Rei who takes after Ren in looks but... she’s a himbo. pure moron. she got her grandpa’s himbo gene strong. She’s a cat girl who works with her brother and she is the head of the guard.

Aki actually has his own story where he grew up in a ‘mundane’ world but then his entire class got ‘isekaid’ to another. it gets shown that this isn’t truly the case. the great ‘split’ mentioned above was Kai literally broke the world in two realms. She made one primarily humans and high tech and then the other was magic and mostly monsters. there are a mix of both but it cut down heavily on the murder. She raised Aki in the human side for his and Rei’s safety due to them being the children of a fallen god (mama worries) and Aki inherited his mother’s odd ‘status’ “Hero/Demon King”  so he has to not expose his demon nature and also stay below the radar (it turns out the person who summoned them was attempting to break a centuries old treaty) until his mother and father can figure out what happened to him (thankfully he can go to a church and his older sister Arty can act as a messenger but there’s a bit of a time split in the worlds) That world is actually the one “Fae Rules” takes place in o7o.

She also is friends with a dead prince named “Shade” (yes this is who you think it is) as well as her ‘cousin’ Sena (who she loves to give shit to)

And in her second life she obvs has her brother, cousins, her father (her father’s boyfriend/her manny), aunt’s etc!!!

So yes; she had family other than her husband!!!! And she cherishes them all.

[aion-rsa]

Zack Snyder’s Justice League: Joker Epilogue Explained

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This Zack Snyder’s Justice League article contains spoilers.

Despite the heroes’ best efforts throughout the four-hour epic, Zack Snyder’s Justice League still ends in scorched earth, with Darkseid’s forces decimating whatever’s left of the planet’s surface, turning it into a wasteland. Even after defeating Steppenwolf and preventing the disaster of Unity, it’s still not enough to stop what’s been coming to Snyder’s version of the DCEU since Bruce had his first “Knightmare” in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice. Or so it seems in an almost 10-minute-long epilogue, which includes a cameo from Jared Leto’s Joker especially shot for the Snyder Cut.

Joker’s inclusion in the movie might seem jarring to some, considering he has no bearing on the actual story being told for most of the film’s runtime. In fact, you could pretty much skip the epilogue completely and not lose much of the experience if you’re only watching for the main plot. That said, the tense conversation between Batman and Joker — as they look upon what Darkseid’s wrought on their planet — does raise some interesting questions as to what might be next for these archnemeses were Snyder to get yet another shot at the DCEU.

Ironically, Snyder actually shot the brand-new footage for Leto specifically because he thought he’d never get another chance to work with these characters. The director “couldn’t leave this universe without having a Joker/Batman scene,” according to producer Deborah Snyder in an interview with CBR. But shooting the scene in the middle of a pandemic was tricky: it involved sending a truck full of costumes to Leto’s house, who would then try them on for the director during Zoom calls to see what worked. According to Deborah, “there was a lot of Zooming and photos and things like that, but so much thought went into creating the character.”

This might explain why the “Joker Christ” look — a version of the villain wearing a crown of thorns featured in a Vanity Fair article — didn’t actually appear in the movie. It was likely one of the costume ideas that were nixed before filming. Something similar happened with Leto’s now-infamous “We live in a society” line in one of the trailers for the Snyder Cut, which the director says was ad-libbed by Leto himself while filming the epilogue. As you now know, that line is nowhere to be found in the scene, either.

So, what did make it into the epilogue? How did Snyder use his final chance to have these versions of Batman and Joker meet in a DCEU movie?

The Batman/Joker History

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For one thing, Snyder touches on some very familiar elements of their dynamic. Like with past iterations of this relationship, Ben Affleck’s Dark Knight and Leto’s Joker are truly inseparable. Even when faced with the end of the world, when all bets are off and the rules no longer apply, the hero and the villain still decide to team up instead of settling the score once and for all. Joker is especially cognizant of their connection, mentioning how Batman created him and how his beloved Bat now needs him to undo what Darkseid did, even though it’s unclear just what the clown can do against such insurmountable, cosmic odds.

Bruce’s threat that he’ll eventually kill Joker is a particularly weak one when he’s also welcomed the Clown Prince of Crime onto his team, and equipped him with a bulletproof vest and an assault rifle no less. Their tense back and forth in this scene is just another section of their eternal dance, even as the Joker dares Batman to kill him. But if Bats were to give in to the temptation and end the clown’s life, who would be there to give him a reach–

Harley Quinn is Dead

We learn a few other things from their brief conversation (and one has to wonder why they’ve decided to do this in the open where they can be spotted by Darkseid’s parademons or Evil Superman): Harley Quinn has died in this possible future, but not before expressing her true hatred for Mr. J. Whether it was always the plan for Harley to break away from her insane beau in time for Birds of Prey or Snyder was trying to connect the dots after the fact is unclear. But her death is clearly a particularly sore spot for Joker, who for a second seems to want to break his own proposed truce and take a shot at the Batman.

“You’re good,” Joker finally says when he regains his cool, realizing the Dark Knight wants the clown to give him a reason to put him down for good. Self-defense ain’t the same as murder in the Snyderverse, right?

The Death of Robin

Robin’s death is finally addressed with one of the coldest lines in the entire epilogue: “I’m happy to discuss in any way you like, why you sent a Boy Wonder to do a man’s job?” the Joker asks Batman. This is in reference to a couple of things. The vandalized Robin suit displayed in the Batcave is a stark reminder of what is likely Bruce’s biggest failure in this universe, but we’ve never actually learned how the Boy Wonder died despite the references to the meteoric death sprinkled across Snyder’s earlier DCEU work. We know the clown did it but not how (perhaps for the best) or the events that led up to Robin’s death.

Read more

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Zack Snyder’s Justice League Ending Explained: The Sequels and DCEU We Never Saw

By Mike Cecchini

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Zack Snyder Wanted to Make a Batman vs. Joker Movie After Justice League

By Mike Cecchini

But that single line of dialogue delivered by the Joker suggests that some version of the 1988 comic book storyline “Death in the Family” has happened in this universe. In those comics, Robin (the second one, Jason Todd) goes off on his own to find his biological mother against Batman’s wishes, and instead comes face to face with the Joker, who murders him in extremely gruesome fashion. It’s a death that haunts Bruce as much as the deaths of his parents, which Leto’s Joker also references, along with Batman’s real name.

Batman Must Die

Most importantly, the epilogue seems to exist so that the Joker can plant a seed in Batman’s head: only his own self-sacrifice will be enough to stop Darkseid once and for all. This is a storyline that Snyder had planned to explore further in future Justice League sequels, a proposed trilogy that would have culminated with the Dark Knight’s death and the rise of a new Caped Crusader.

It’s unlikely that we’ll ever see this trilogy now that Snyder and the DCEU are parting ways, but the epilogue leaves the road clear for a sequel nonetheless, with Joker alluding to a time-travel plot that would involve Batman’s new crew going back in time to undo Lois Lane’s death and Superman’s villainous turn.

The DC Comics Inspirations

This is hardly the first time the Dark Knight and the Clown Prince of Crime have joined forces to fight a greater evil. Most recently, they’ve teamed up in the DC comics by Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo, particularly in Dark Nights: Metal and Last Knight on Earth, post-apocalyptic stories set in nightmarish wastelands that the director might have at least skimmed while writing this epilogue. In both of these stories, Joker is a key part of Batman’s ultimate victory. In Last Knight on Earth, Joker even finally become’s his “best friend”‘s sidekick.

But in terms of what inspired the grungier look of Justice League‘s Joker, it seems that the filmmaker and Leto went back to the Grant Morrison era of the character for inspiration. Just as Morrison and Tony Daniel’s “reborn” Joker was a clear influence on Leto’s get-up in Suicide Squad, the jarring butcher (?) costume worn by the clown in the epilogue might have been inspired by a similar look introduced in Morrison’s Batman and Robin series (above). Either way, it’s a very odd fashion choice when you’re about to go fight a New God, but then again, Joker isn’t exactly your average dresser.

With this Batman and Joker scene, Snyder reaffirms his love for these characters. Regardless of whether you find his take on their relationship worthy or not, it’s impossible to deny Snyder’s attention to detail when crafting his final DCEU scene, one full of references to Batman and the Joker’s past as well as their potential future. In his own divisive way, Snyder writes a love letter to these characters and goes out with a smile.

The post Zack Snyder’s Justice League: Joker Epilogue Explained appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[fallintosanity]

One Ardyn to Rule Them All

I’ve been stuck for a while on writing the part of What Stays and What Fades that comes shortly after the last bit posted to Tumblr, and I realized a couple of days ago that this particular flavor of stuck-ness is familiar: it’s the stuck of trying to write a story in which Ardyn Izunia is involved. 

This is something I struggled with quite a lot in The Basis of Reality, and for much the same reason: Ardyn is billed as the villain of FFXV, but he’s not. He’s tied up in the resolution of the canon story in a way that makes him impossible to ignore in any fic that deals remotely with the canon plot and the Cosmogony’s prophecy about Noct’s destiny, but he’s not the antagonist. Instead, he alternates between being a Trickster Mentor and a more-violent-than-usual MacGuffin.

To put it another way: Ardyn isn’t Sauron. He’s the One Ring. 

(what the fuck that means under the cut)

To expand on the LOTR analogy, the Starscourge itself is Sauron (personified to a certain extent by Bahamut and the Crystal), while the Niflheim Empire is Saruman and his army. This isn’t to get drawn into any Dawn of the Future “true ending” arguments over whether Bahamut is actively evil, just doing the only thing he can, or simply indifferent either way. That’s not really the point. A character doesn’t have to be objectively “evil” or “bad” to be an antagonist - they only have to be the one providing the primary conflict, the one asking the question the narrative answers.

Let’s talk for a second about antagonists. The antagonist of a story is the thing that drives the plot, whether it’s a bad guy with a goal, a force of nature or society, or an internal opponent. A story is created by asking a question spurred by the antagonist, which is answered in the climax by the hero’s actions. For example: Will Darth Vader successfully wipe out the Rebellion by destroying its last hideout? Will the volcano’s eruption kill the intrepid scientist? Will the scrappy underdog team’s lack of training and confidence defeat their shot to win the championship? Will depression drive a teenager to suicide? 

Basically, you can’t have a story without conflict, and the antagonist is what provides the conflict.

So now we’re back to FFXV and Ardyn. For the first twelve chapters of the game, the narrative question is, “Can Noctis reclaim the Crystal and defeat Niflheim to save his kingdom?” It has nothing to do with Ardyn, and indeed, Ardyn does not provide any meaningful conflict to Noctis, our hero. In fact, while he’s smarmy about it, he’s pretty helpful! The closest he gets to providing direct conflict is killing Lunafreya: a cruel thing to do, but at that point all it appears to do is raise the stakes for Noctis - stakes already placed by Niflheim. At least on the surface, Ardyn is simply continuing the Empire’s campaign to wipe out the Lucis Caelums and the Fleurets in its quest for world domination. After that, he’s offscreen for all of Chapter 10 except a brief cameo. Even his mischief on the train in Chapter 11, switching places with Prompto and tricking Noctis into throwing Prompto off the train, simply continues to raise the Empire’s stakes of world domination by killing Noctis and co. 

It’s not until Chapter 13 that the narrative question is called into doubt. In fact, I would argue that one of the reasons Chapter 13 is so unsettling on first playthrough is for exactly that reason: the player understands that the original narrative question no longer applies, because the Emperor is dead and the Empire has been destroyed by its own daemons. But it’s not until the very last few minutes of the chapter, when Bahamut reveals Noctis’s true purpose, that the new narrative question arises. Therefore, it’s distressing at a meta level to the player because the player no longer understands what the goal is, mirroring Noctis’s own distress.

In those last few minutes of Chapter 13, Bahamut tells both Noctis and the player that, in effect, none of the conflict up until this point matters. The only real question is, can Noctis save the world by destroying Ardyn before the Starscourge wipes out humanity? 

Sound familiar? The primary narrative question in The Lord of the Rings is, can Frodo save the world by destroying the One Ring before Sauron wipes out all the Free Races? 

(As I’m writing this I’m realizing that there are a whole lot more parallels between FFXV and LOTR than I noticed before. I might have to do a separate meta on that.)

So we’re finally all the way back to my original point, which is that Ardyn isn’t Sauron, he’s the One Ring. Which means figuring out how to write him into a fic isn’t simply a matter of setting him directly opposed to Noctis & co, because that’s not what Ardyn does. It’s not what he wants, any more than the One Ring wants to stop Frodo from taking it to Mordor. Just as the One Ring frequently helps Frodo (albeit often at a cost) along his journey, so does Ardyn help Noctis. The One Ring also occasionally hinders Frodo in ways intended to support Sauron, just like Ardyn helps the Starscourge along by killing Lunafreya, but for the most part, neither the One Ring nor Ardyn have any reason not to help their respective heroes get them closer to their destructive goals. 

The one wildcard in all of this is that while the One Ring is only sort of sentient and cannot significantly act on its own (outside of doing things like managing to slip onto fingers or fall out of pockets), Ardyn is both fully sentient and (mostly) autonomous. In other words, he has a will of his own and can act on it if he so chooses. The problem is that it’s never made clear in canon precisely what Ardyn does want. 

We can infer some things based on his actions, but depending on whether you consider the various DLCs, and in particular Episode: Ardyn, to be 100% canon, many of those inferences run directly counter to one another. Ardyn wants the prophecy to succeed so he can finally die after two thousand years of torment. Ardyn wants the prophecy to fail so he can rule a world of daemons. Ardyn wants to be the Chosen King and wipe out his brother’s descendents. Ardyn only ever wanted to help people by healing them. Ardyn is a gleeful participant in setting up the ending of the Cosmogony to achieve any of the above goals. Ardyn doesn’t want to be a part of the Cosmogony at all but is forced to act out his role by the gods. Ardyn is a cunning mastermind puppeteering a grand plan. Ardyn is completely insane and doesn’t care about anything except sowing chaos and ruin.

On top of all that, if you count Ep:Ardyn as canon, we have Bahamut explicitly telling Ardyn he doesn’t get a choice. He’s only allowed to be a good little prophecy puppet, playing his part until he dies, and any attempt to deviate will be quashed with extreme prejudice. This adds yet another layer of potential motivation for Ardyn: regardless of his own personal feelings about the Lucis Caelum line in general and Noctis in particular, Ardyn may have sufficient motivation to flout the Cosmogony simply to defy the god who told him to play along. 

This leaves us with a MacGuffin with a will of its own but no clear motivation or end goal, and a villain who, like Sauron, is too remote and uninvolved for the vast majority of the plot to be useful in driving direct conflict in a fic. (This is, incidentally, why Saruman, the Uruk-Hai, and the Ringwraiths exist in LOTR: they provide smaller narrative arcs of conflict along the journey to face Sauron himself. Niflheim and its various commanders - Aranea, Loqi, and Caligo - plus the miscellaneous daemons you face on the road, serve the same function in FFXV.) 

None of this really helps get me unstuck, unfortunately, but it does help me understand the core of my problem: I’ve been trying to fit Ardyn into the role of Sauron when that’s not, narratively speaking, what he’s set up for. Which isn’t to say I can’t have him escalate from One Ring to Sauron, but if I’m going to do that, I need to find a motivation for him that pits him directly against Noctis and co. Because while he might be a MacGuffin in canon, that doesn’t mean he has to stay one in fics.

[simsofsanmyshunoandmore]

Bryan Bridgerton, a charming young man from England, went to Willow Creek with the hopes of achieving fame through his band, The Stradmore Notes. Bryan, along with his two dearest friends, Cole and Heather, started The Stradmore Notes in college to be their creative and recreational outlet. They played in bars, school events and other celebrations during their free time, making their way up to be recognized as a start-up band. Their hopes and dreams to share their music with others encouraged them to continue their journey together after college and live in their youthful times with each other. The Stradmore Notes became more of a brotherhood than just a band in their lives.

After college, they all decided to buy a house together in Willow Creek and continue writing songs for their band. They aspire to submit these to labels and earn their chances of being breakout stars. They also applied to be regular entertainers in the local bar to play their songs and earn extra cash to help pay the mortgage. It did not take long for the locals to appreciate and recognize them because of their spark and talent. They ignited the music in Willow Creek and eventually, Bryan, Cole and Heather found themselves as an in-demand band to play in events and festivals in the city. Hence, they had higher pays, fame and recognition. Their trajectory kept a steady pace going upwards, higher than they thought they could achieve at that period of time. The Stradmore Notes was a success and their growing fanbase was the best validation.

Courageously, Bryan encouraged the band to join the national singing competition to gain a large reception and an audience. He wanted to place a mark in the industry as early as then and reach peaks in their career in their early 20s. Despite being able to graduate at different fields, they all decided to make music their utmost priority. The preparation for the competition had to be perfect. They wanted to win for themselves, for the money, prestige and attention. They realized that this would be a great medium to showcase their talent and efficiently make themselves known by big names in the industry. Playing their own music written by Heather with lyrics by Cole, Bryan took the helm of being the lead singer and guitarist of their 3-man band. He was the face of the trio and that went well for their publicity.

Ever since in high school, Bryan was eye candy. He had the looks and the physique that put him at the pedestal in the high school food chain. He was a swimmer and a basketball player, and he also played guitar during lunch breaks. He had three girlfriends during his high school years and was even the prom king in his time. That fame dwindled a bit in college, having been mixed with a lot of guys of his own wavelength. However, conceiving The Stradmore Notes helped him regain this attention and reestablish his name in the pack once more. Bryan was talented, sexy and charismatic and he always played these qualities to his advantage. This also played beautifully to their favor in the national stage. Bryan attracted a lot of attention in the auditions, having his own fanbase that revered him so well. This gave his band an advantage through the competition by always being voted to stay and compete for the succeeding rounds until the finale. Despite not winning yet, The Stradmore Notes had marked their way in the industry by their extremely large fanbase online. And when they eventually did win, their support and recognition exploded through the roofs, claiming a record-breaking album at their first release after the competition.

It was no doubt Bryan put The Stradmore Notes on the Del Sol Valley map. He thrived in the sunshine of attention, being showered with love and fondness from his supporters alone. On the other hand, Cole and Heather took a backseat after their win. They did not love the attention as much as Bryan did but they were still both happy to play for him in their performances. Heather and Cole loved writing songs and Bryan was their avenue to share this gift with others. They were happy for their friend who owned the spotlight the world had given him naturally. Bryan was offered solo albums, modelling opportunities and even acting roles through a couple of years, most of which he declined, especially if it meant going solo. Bryan loved his two best friends and he figured that it was their songs that elevated him to the stars. Bryan did not let his fame get to him easily. He may have had the spotlight, but he generously shared the stage with Heather and Cole.

After a couple of years of growing fame, The Stradmore Notes became more than just winners of a national singing competition, but their own names for themselves. They were a band; a celebrity no less. They were nominated in Starlight Accolades, appeared more as guests in shows, played for a couple of movie soundtracks and sang in front of the academy in Del Sol Valley. Above all else, they found themselves mingling with other celebrities that they just watched on TV and movies before. Mrs. Ward, the 21-time Starlight Accolade nominee, congratulated them at the Starlight Accolades the night they were nominated. Shantel Ransom, a top-grossing supermodel, flirted with them a bit in the reception. The Bailey-Moon family of Pop RnB also invited them in one of their concerts to sing. Bryan, Heather and Cole were stars and no longer just winners. Bryan realized that this was the life he always dreamed of, but for his other two friends, this wasn’t the ultimate goal they wanted to grow old with.

Inasmuch as Heather and Cole wanted to stay in the band, they both felt like Bryan could finally stand alone as a celebrity. Eventually, the two of them opted to stay out of the spotlight and focus on the professions they had degrees for. Despite being left alone at the top of his career, Bryan braved himself to stay confident as a solo singer and guitarist. He shifted from being a lead vocalist of The Stradmore Notes, to a singer-songwriter artist with his handy guitar to keep him company. He also became the ambassador of many brands, modelled apparels and cameoed in several movies and TV series. His brand-new character propelled him higher in his career, integrating more activities and projects for him to cement his character in the industry.

In one modelling gig, Bryan met Julianne Moore, the supermodel and stylist known for her own show “What Would Julianne Wear?”. She was invited by Julianne herself to model one of the budding brands she fancied to feature in her show. She had Bryan wear multiple undergarments designed by the amateur stylist to jumpstart his line. Bryan did the guesting humorously. He threw jokes and playfully flirted with Julianne as he modelled in boxers and briefs for the show. It was funnily unfortunate that in his series of jokes, Bryan’s boxer briefs had a noticeable tent that became a huge highlight not only for the show, but for his career as well. The wardrobe malfunction became the talk of the town for several days, linking Bryan and Julianne together by fans. For the next several talk shows, they were always both invited to share this experience and to talk about their personal and romantic lives to get to know them better. With these opportunities during tapings and what came between, Bryan and Julianne shared more time together, weighing their chemistry and charm as a Del Sol Valley item. They were also often seen to go out together shopping and dining which started rumors that they were actually dating. These rumors spread like wildfire in the industry but the two of them were unfazed. These rumors turned out to be true when Julianne posted a sweet vacation photo with Bryan in Maldives quoted as her boyfriend.

After their announcement, Bryan and Julianne became known as one of the Del Sol Valley’s power couples. They appeared together as each others’ dates in several events. They also started their own online vlog as a couple to let their fans explore their lives deeper and create a connection with their solid fanbase. Individually, Bryan still delivered well in the music industry, singing in concerts and having his own tours and guesting for other singers. However, having a girlfriend brought more flair into his performances, inspiring him and his fans alike. His ballads evolved further than just random songs for a random woman, but ultimately addressed and sang for his girlfriend, Julianne. Julianne, on the other hand, had more opportunities to pursue her humanitarian efforts after joining and winning the first ever Ms. SimWorld pageant. She was crowned and won the title to be the ambassadress for her own cause which involved women empowerment, equality and body positivity.

Bryan and Julianne had been together for a few years already that time when each of their own careers pulled them away from each other more often. Bryan had a world tour that took him away for several months. He was alone and only with his team to perform his scheduled concerts across the globe. It was a lonely ride for several months and Bryan missed being deeply connected with someone. Nina Caliente, his personal stylist, was there to talk to him everyday and share their victories after each performance. Bryan was alone so he tremendously appreciated Nina’s efforts to be a close friend through those months. One night after a celebration for a successful concert, things started getting hot and heavy in the party. Booze and loneliness combined went bad for Bryan against his commitment with his girlfriend. It started with a harmless tease, then a passionate kiss and then Bryan and Nina found themselves in his hotel room naked and loud. The next day came and he woke up beside Nina. He watched her sleep and re-evaluated his actions the night before. He felt guilty but he couldn’t put an end to his only source of comfort and pleasure.

In his sphere, eyes were everywhere. It did not take too long for rumors to start and eye Bryan’s unusual intimacy with his personal stylist. Just as his world tour was about to end, a picture of him and Nina making out at the backstage was taken by a paparazzi and was posted online that stirred a trending social media craze. As it reached Julianne, she could not feel anything but betrayal and disgust. Bryan arrived shortly in Del Sol Valley and was greeted by the press to explain his side. Cornered, Bryan admitted his guilt and broke up with Julianne immediately to let her go from further harm. Julianne did not take this easily. When Bryan came to their apartment to pick up his things, Julianne allegedly assaulted Nina when they finally met. After the incident, both of their careers lied low. For Julianne, she had the sympathy so she was able to rivet back on what was important. Despite being haunted by the press and the intrusive questions during interviews, Julianne bounced back as the sole ambassadress for the Ms. SimWorld Organization.

With his new earnings from his world tour, Bryan bought his own villa in Oasis Springs where he and Nina resided as a couple. They still had their careers in front of them despite having less opportunities than they had before. For a year, Bryan lost his edge and resorted to online vlogging for the time that he did not have any projects. He modelled for several brands for the year but nothing significant related to music. Hence, he took the initiative to release another album under his trusted label and this was a smart move that earned him attention once more. However, this time around, he wasn’t just a pretty face with a great voice. He was a sin However, that was not necessarily a bad thing in the industry. The only forced him to adopt a more mature character afterwards, as a daring and sexy songbird, so Bryan took it for the challenge. He thoroughly enjoyed the interest and it also worked well for him and Nina as they played along in this trajectory.

Nina had her own break as well being Bryan’s girlfriend. After modelling couple pictures with him in an adult magazine, she had her own spotlight to be the face of a lingerie brand. This gave her a spotlight of her own, shaping her celebrity status alongside Bryan’s brand. Nonetheless, it placed them back on the map with their new characters and attributes that their fans still loved. They also attracted more who fancied their mature identities and encouraged to see more of this side as it fit them both perfectly. Unfortunately, this light also inspired more rumors and controversies that rocked their relationship. A sex video was leaked online that showed Bryan and Nina having a group intercourse with other people. It seemed that they often engaged in cuckold fetishes that despite being denied by them, still always put them in hot water. Eventually, Nina and Bryan split up for reasons they kept to themselves. Rumors said that it was because Bryan wanted to be monogamous, but Nina did not. Others speculated that the psychological turmoil surrounding their several controversies just became too tough to handle so they decided it was best to stay separated.

Bryan lived alone again in his large villa. He focused more on music and asked his old friends’ help to write songs once more. He felt like after the years of being rocked and rolled by controversies and issues, he needed to reaffirm his roots and dreams from where he started as. After a few months of writing new songs, Bryan released his comeback album with the original members of The Stradmore Notes. Long-time fans were excited for the release, bringing back Bryan’s old fans and connections to his shadow. He chose to concentrate more on his music career and stop the other guesting for the mean time. He only modelled for trusted brands as he tried to get back on his feet and refrained from being linked with any celebrity for the moment. This steadily slow pace worked for him to remain in the roster of top artists for the decade. Bryan revalidated his goals again and anchored them to what truly mattered: music. After a year of doing small gigs and medium-scale concerts, Bryan courageously brought himself back from the dumps and took more projects again. The national channel started a new show the SimBachelor and invited him to be the first celebrity to participate in the series.

The SimBachelor was a reality TV where single male celebrities would guest as the bachelor whom women (or men) will compete to earn a date or to possibly be their romantic interests. The show helped Bryan paint him as a reconciled man who yearned to meet his soulmate, to which he truly felt and dreamed. He was scared it wouldn’t be received well by the society but they actually did. Several auditionees competed to be part of the real-time show where 7 women earned their chance to meet Bryan Bridgerton in person. All of them were equally excited to win and possibly win Bryan’s heart as the prize. Through the competition, Bryan had eyes for a particular young contestant who had an appeal of a high school sweetheart named Alice. She was pretty and confident, but she would turn meek and shy when Bryan was nearby. It reminded him so much of the effect he had on girls in the past, when things were simpler and uncontroversial. Bryan liked her and what she was personified as. Eventually winning the competition, she earned her chance to date Bryan and see to where it could lead. Favorably for her, Bryan saw her beyond just as a contestant. She did not need to weigh her strengths further and appeal differently to win just to be Bryan’s soulmate. Bryan instantly invited her to live with him in Oasis Springs and get to know each other further. Bryan saw her as another chance to start again and finally be able to share his dreams with a special someone. He looked forward for this chapter as he figured that it was time to be truer for himself and for his aspirations.

Furthermore, Bryan took this beginning seriously for himself and for the woman who chose and competed to be his partner. It was a call for him to appreciate what is important not just for his career, but for himself and for what he recognized as important. Being a celebrity of his stature had been fun but very difficult to cope with. He did not have someone to share that burden with when The Stradmore Notes broke up. He was alone and struggling to be at that altitude all by himself. However, Bryan finally learned how to anchor himself to something important other than his lifelong endeavor so the waves of fame wouldn’t sweep him away. Now that he has Alice to be his partner, he hopes to do more, and do better than he ever had before. 

[ton-e]

WOOOO ok let's see for how much can I keep this going bc there's a LOT to dissect in here, mostly soft was details that make my heart go brrrrr-

Camilla was actually meant to have a pole dancing sequence; There we'll see she's quite experienced with this line of work and such, but also because pole dancing requires an unbelievable amount of dexterity, control, bodily discipline and the real talent, making it look effortless. This is more meant to show her amazing gymnatisc abilities , and perhaps make the boys sweat a little bit sjsjsj

2) Camilla and the dancers

This is just really sweet as it's painting the relationship between Blackcat and the public, particularly the female side of it; The people of the underground already trust her more than agents, cops, lawmakers in general as she's no one's messenger but her own, and responds only to her own word, acts on her own command. The scene is opened with a bouncer being particularly rough with one of the girls, and the aggression is interrupted by another woman who storms into the room, making Camillas presence known.

The bouncer's face whitens significantly, features falling in a naked fear and resigned regret as the dancers leave him behind in their giggly trail, and the next shot is just her throwing him out from what you've seen!! The dancers cover for her as a thank you and help her get ready.

This is just really cute because grown woman being so openly excited to see another woman, a SUPERHERO who's a woman, even if Camilla huffs off the term, who's extremely protective about people in defavoured places, but of other women especially, is just.... Lifting, because she Gets it. As it's been running their streets, "No one hurts girls in my city." So of course they're going to be giggidy to see her, - Idk it's just something very very endearing that I would've included if I could've but some editing errors arose lol

3) The Fresher Backpack

Okay this is actually my favorite detail-- Whites' refined exterior has an agency to match, but their agents have their own code among them, where new comers, or, "freshers", have to carry a pink unicorn backpack in missions. This is mostly to mess with them, but it's also a test of loyalty somehow.

Working for the government means a lot of the time you'll do things you won't want to do, so to have your pride challenged, considering their backgrounds, let's others know how much you're willing to take and if you prioritize anything above the agency. In this case, it's Ruby, despite being there longer than Ricky and any other agent combined sjsjsj Frankly he's just happy to be included and it soon becomes a comfort object for him :> this is just me wanting to show the middle finger to toxic masculinity with not having such a deadly man be emasculated by possessing something so "girly"

3) Ricky protecting Camilla's cat

Despite being fairly solitary and independent animals, cats are very protective of their own; Camilla loves her cats incredibly much and it's not uncommon for some of them to follow her in heist to guard her which is really sweet. In this case, Nala, her second oldest cat assists Ricky in his fight scene, tucked within the protection of his jean jacket in that one fight scene and even clawing some eyeballs out JSJSJS it results in her being thrown around and Ricky gets PISSED, following the guy being put in a meat grinder sjsj

4) White fainting at the sight of blood

This is mostly to show her peculiar sensitivity to gore, which will play an important part later on in the arc 👀 as fun fact she is a HUGE germophobe and that's a key detail to remember

5) Jack cameo/saving Ricky

Jacks official introduction was meant to be a brief cameo of him shooting the sniper who tried to get a bit on Ricky, then nonchalantly drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette next to the body, but I scrapped that idea as I have something else in mind for him :>

6) The finishing scene:

This is mostly to explore the after, the stage harmony of war. How demanding the job is, how drained it can leave you, in a passive aggressive goodbye and a promise of return.

[katsuragitakumi]

Thoughts on New World Grease (1/2)

This is the last festival!

 Well, the last V-Cinema is here! And it’s become the top-grossing KR V-Cinema so far, so maybe it’d be a bit of an understatement to say it was well-received in the Japanese fandom. 

After Cross-Z got mixed reviews, there were fans concerned about the Grease V-Cinema: would Kazumin get a new love interest? (Keep in mind that Kazumin/Misora as a ship has a bigger following there than in the Western fandom) Would Sento play a very passive part and be depressed at home? Would the crows get the screen time they deserve?? Would Grease Blizzard be back?

Toei seems to have paid attention to what fans wanted, and I think this movie feels much more Build-like to me than Cross-Z or even Be The One ever did. Kazumin/Misora is a thing -more about that in the next post-, Sento is in a good mood, gets to transform and does stuff other than mope around, the Crows are adorable as usual and Grease Blizzard gets to shine.

Anyway, I’ve enjoyed the movie for the most part. The action, the comedy, the characters… everything was very good! It’s definitely one of my favorite KR V-Cinemas so far. Is it perfect? No. While I don’t think it has as many issues as Cross-Z -which was enjoyable nonetheless-, there are a couple of things that have bothered me. And let’s say one of them was especially bad. But still, I had a blast watching this movie, and I think it understood what made Build so special to many of us. I saw someone say that while Cross-Z showed the bad side of Build, Grease showed its good side. While I don’t necessarily agree (I don’t think Cross-Z was garbage, and some things Grease does are questionable at best), I do believe Grease was an honest attempt to please the fanbase. As someone else put it, “it’s a love song for Build and its fans”. That’s more like it, yes.

What I did like:

The characters got to do stuff! I’m especially happy for Sento and Sawa, whose roles in Cross-Z were… disappointing, to say the least. Here we’ve got Sento at his best, living a happy life, transforming and trolling his good ol’ pal Kazumin. Sawa gets to rescue Gentoku, repeat her shady line (“it’s better if you don’t know about it”) and this time around, fortunately, she wasn’t knocked out for any reason.

Shinobu acknowledges Sento as his other son!!! I wish there was at least a lil mention to Mrs. Katsuragi, but I’m happy with what we’ve got. Now I can easily imagine her, Shinobu, Katsuragi and Sento enjoying their sweet eggrolls together.

That conversation between Katsuragi and Banjou! When I read the spoilers in late August, I think this was one of the scenes I wanted the watch the most. “It’s not a weapon if a hero uses it. It’s hope”, says Katsuragi. Banjou and Sawa smile at him, and he smiles back. He finally acknowledges Banjou and everyone else as true heroes who fight for love and peace :’)

Massugu (the kid from the Grease HBV who made a brief cameo in the series) is back! I love how in the show he said something like “we were saved by a purple Kamen R*der!” and now he just says “a green monster has appeared!”.

While I’m sad that Gentoku and Kazumin hardly interacted at all (they were treated as a duo in the show, in Be The One, in Cross-Z and in Heigen Forever), I loved it when Kazumin called him and understood that Gentoku had been kidnapped because he called him “Grease” instead of “potato” lol

THE JOKES. The comedy was great in this movie, but I especially appreciated something that’s extremely mutocore: the jokes that turn out to be plot relevant. In this case, Kazumin is so heartbroken when Misora rejects him that he and his friends go on a trip to a deserted island (their preferred means of transportation: a raft), and they can transform because… they bathed themselves in a very special onsen! It’s so stupid. I love it. Now, that’s the kind of silly stuff I actually like, not Cross-Z’s strange “Banjou’s gonna explode” thing. In a way, Misora saved the world by rejecting Kazumin. A legend.

There were many gags I loved and I can’t choose a single one. I think I’m going to have lots of fun giffing this movie, although some of those scenes aren’t very gif-friendly (like when the crows are cheering on Kazumin, and Aoba goes “YOU CAN DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”). Sento trolling Kazumin (“misoramisoramisoramisoramisora”) was great, or Sento forgetting about Utsumi, who was inside a capsule, or the shabby map Sento drew for Kazumin… God, Sento was the MVP.

Misora calling the crows “the three idiots” ALL THE TIME. I loved her interactions with them. When Aoba is trying to protect her, when she refuses to let go of Akaba’s hand… And I’m glad Isurugi was mentioned (she was buying a present for him), although it makes me sad that we didn’t get to see Misora and her dad in the New World after the finale. I bet Isurugi and the crows would have been a very fun combo.

Also, I’m glad Kiba’s acute sense of smell wasn’t forgotten, or Aoba’s reaction when he saw Metal Build :’) Or Kiba’s and Aoba’s roasting Kazumin, as usual (“he’s so bad at lying!” and “he can’t do anything without us…”). Akaba was a sweetie. I love every single one of them.

Utsumi’s “EVERYTHING FOR NANBA INDUSTR… no… FOR PEOPLE!”. That’s my boy right there!!!!!!!!  

THE ACTION SCENES! Now, I’ve always had a soft spot for Grease as a rider because I love his fighting style, and he got to shine as much as he deserved in this movie. Dunno how to feel about the DBZ fight at the end (when he and the Bad Guy were flying around), but his scenes as Grease Blizzard -my true love- were amazing. Perfect Kingdom was cool though, and that scene where all the riders transform together was very sweet.

Kazumin was VERY cool. While I’m :/ about some stuff he did (more about that in the next post), he does know how to deliver cool lines. “You’ve always been alone, haven’t you?” or “I’ve got something I want to protect. You don’t. That’s it”. YOOOOOOOO. Or his speech about what a Kam*n R*der is. He and the crows were very, very fun.

SENTO AND BANJOU WERE SO FUN TOO! Loved the scene where Sento says he’s glad the Katsuragis made up, and Banjou gets all “:’)” while looking at his smile.

I’m surprised (except not really) that in a movie where TWO new het ships become canon, there’s no mention whatsoever of Yui, Banjou’s love interest in Cross-Z. Now, Build has been consistent about bringing up randos now and then (here we’ve got Massugu, for instance, but in the show nearly every rando has been mentioned again at some point), so I think it’s worth pointing out the so-called “Cross-Z erasure”. Especially in this context. Which leads me to…

What’s with the Kazumin+Misora and Sento+Banjou similarities in this movie? lol Maybe I should write a separate post to not make this post even longer.

“You know, he’s a dumb and lame idol otaku, but he’ll fight to create a future for his friends, for everyone. Because he’s a hero”. Awww, Misora (see the point above). Felt bad when she started crying as soon as she spotted Grease Blizzard. She’s precious…

I laughed when the Bad Guy killed The Other Bad Guy. This movie wasn’t very violent compared to other V-Cinemas, let alone ROGUE. And although we see how the Bad Guy gets tortured, it’s much more tame than Yui getting burned alive in Cross-Z. And I’m glad we didn’t get a gratuitously violent scene where the bad guy tortures Misora.

I actually appreciate the Bad Guy, whose name as you can see I don’t even remember. Is he great? Nah. But what I want in these movies is to see the characters I already know doing stuff, not for some rando to steal the spotlight. Bonus points because he wasn’t an alien. He did work with Shinobu, but he doesn’t retcon the plot like the guys from Be the One did, and they don’t bring back Evolt like Cross-Z did. He was just there doing his stuff and I respect him for that.

I’m probably missing some more stuff, but yeah this movie was very, very enjoyable to me. I’ll talk about the stuff I did NOT like in the next post!

(Second part)

[nellie-elizabeth]

Supernatural: Raising Hell (15x02)

I swear, every time I see Buckleming's names attached to an episode of Supernatural, I try to keep an open mind. I try to believe that they'll pull out a decent episode, which on occasion, they have managed to do. But this one... Gosh. I don't even know where to start.

Cons:

So crowded! Always with the so, so crowded! There are so many things going on in this one episode that it's like I can't even catch my breath. And I do not mean that in a good way. We've got Rowena, we've got Kevin, we've got Ketch, Amara... all of these reappearances should have been really fun to see, but instead they are all so jumbled up and very few of the moments actually have the impact they should.

A main example of this is Kevin. What a lackluster return for such a beloved character! He's there, the boys are glad to see him, he depressingly leaves because apparently he can't get into Heaven since he's been in Hell this whole time. So that's... sad, and pointless. We find out in this episode that all this time, when we thought Kevin was at peace in Heaven, he's actually been in Hell because... Chuck is a dick, I guess? There's no explanation given for why God put Kevin in Hell. And now he's here, he's used as bait, and he decides to leave and wander the earth as a ghost because it's better than going back to Hell. Why would you bring back a fan favorite just to make his ending much sadder?

Also, Ketch and Rowena's sexual tension thing was so uncomfortable. This is part of another big problem I have with Buckleming episodes. Their dialogue is just bad. Not always, not every line, but there are enough awkward, stilted moments to make me cringe. All of the stuff with Rowena and Ketch was like that. There were clumsy exposition moments, and things that should have felt fraught and emotional, like the boys' reunion with Kevin, fell extremely flat. There are exceptions to this, and I'll talk about them in a moment, but for the most part even the stuff in this episode that would have worked, came across as much less than it should have.

And that's just an overall issue with this episode and others like it. So much happens, and as individual pieces, there's a great deal of potential here. But when it's all crammed together, it can't make a whole as strong as its parts.

Pros:

There are exceptions to what I've been saying above. Basically, the only things I can praise about this episode are little snippets, moments in the chaos that cut through the overcrowded and yet still lackluster totality.

Let's start with Chuck and Amara. I love that we're seeing a more human-ish side to Amara, which makes sense if she's been spending time in the human world, playing craps and getting massages in Reno. Chuck is hanging around because he's not at full strength, and Amara, when she realizes that he just needs her because he's hurt, decides to ditch him. It was cool to see her being a bad-ass who isn't about to stick around and take care of little bro. Chuck as a villain works so well, because we can now see every benevolent action he's ever taken over the years as just part of his game. He liked the Winchesters because they were interesting, because they did what he wanted and kept him entertained. Now, for the first time, he's in a weakened position and he truly doesn't have control. It seems clear he wants to write this world off and move on, but he's not at full strength, and Amara is his only hope. I'd love to see more of her, as she might be the solution to the need for an all-powerful being to help our heroes in their fight against God.

We see a brief moment where Sam and Chuck appear to still be linked through their injury. This is leading me to the natural (and devastating) conclusion that Sam will need to die in order to defeat Chuck, the ultimate Big Bad. We'll see if Supernatural decides to go the tragedy route. I really hope they don't, but in any case, I'm up for the angst along the way. We see that Dean is still tracking Sam's injury, and Sam is trying to brush it off as no big deal. Oh, this is going to hurt so good.

While I have many, many problems with the way Rowena was written in this episode, I continue to find the interplay between her and the Winchesters fascinating. These actors do a masterful job of conveying the complexity of their friendship in small moments, even when the script itself does not substantiate the relationship much. Dean and Rowena share a look of understanding and respect as the episode ends. Sam and Dean both seem genuinely grateful to see her, and it's telling in and of itself that she showed up to assist. Her ally-ship with the Winchesters is in some ways a lot more interesting than Crowley's relationship with them was in the later years. She's not still pretending to be their enemy, and yet of course she's not just their buddy with no complicating factors involved.

The same can actually be said for Ketch. So much about the British Men of Letters plot line was botched a few seasons back, but Ketch came out of it as a somewhat interesting relic. I like that he and Dean have this weird yet natural-seeming camaraderie. Dean was willing to shoot him when he was possessed, and Ketch doesn't seem to have hard feelings about that at all. They're just... like that. I could do without the Ketch/Rowena thing, but I wouldn't mind seeing Ketch around once or twice more this season (although, let's be real, it would have been kind of hilarious if Dean had actually killed him).

I'm disappointed in how little we got of Kevin, but it was still lovely to see Osric Chau. It's so cute to think of him having like... street cred in Hell because God himself sent him there. And as sad as his fate is, maybe there's a way to spin it in future episodes? Even if it's just a cameo, they could give Kevin a happier ultimate fate, depending on how this whole show winds up.

I've saved the Destiel of it all for last. See, when you get episodes like this, that are frantically paced and full of characters and action and plot, the moments that work the best are always the ones that slow down and take a beat, allow for the characters to shine and relationship dynamics to be explored. So here, we have Cas' only real scene in the episode - he's mostly just a background character, except for this one key moment, and it's one of the episode's only truly quality scenes. Not just for the fact that it involves Dean and Cas staring at each other while soft music plays in the background, and they have an angst-y talk about their relationship. I mean, all of that was great and my soul ascended instantly to heaven or whatever. But what's really great about this scene is the way it's solidifying the arc of the season, specifically the motivations and feelings of Dean Winchester, our protagonist. He said much the same thing to Sam last week, and here he's reiterating it to Cas - what is the point of anything? Was anything they've ever done real? If Chuck was pulling the strings all along? I think it's going to be particularly difficult for Dean to get out of that mindset, and it doesn't help that he's still angry with Cas. For Jack, for Mary. And he's still angry at the world for screwing him over. Again.

So yeah. For obvious reasons, I freakin' loved that scene, and I can't wait to see more of Cas and Dean's relationship angst for the rest of the season. I'm not quite naive enough to expect a romantic confirmation, but I do hope that their bond gets a focus in this final season. And while this episode wasn't exactly a winner in my books, there were plenty of little moments within it that make me excited about what comes next. And that promo... oh gosh. If Sam has to kill Rowena I'm going to cry so many tears.

7/10

[accio-spaceman]

VORTEX Magazine - Issue 122

(April 2019)

Download PDF version for FREE on the Big Finish website

Partners In Time

At last! The Doctor and Donna are back!

[Above Cover for “The Tenth Doctor Adventures Volume Three”, featuring (l-r, top-bottom) Catherine Tate, David Tennant, Jacqueline King, Bernard Cribbins, and two Judoon.]

The Doctor and Donna Noble are arguably one of the most popular Doctor and companion pairings ever, and their adventures in space and time continue in The Tenth Doctor Adventures Volume Three. David Tennant and Catherine Tate reprise their TV roles for a second run of audio adventures from Big Finish.

(Full Article Under Cut)

Producer David Richardson says: “I actually got very nervous in the weeks before recording, as I did on their previous box set. You are just so aware that you are going to be working with two of the biggest stars in this country, and you want them to have a brilliant time and for the whole thing to run smoothly.

“The night before recording I just told myself, forget the nerves, treat it like any other production and it will be great. And actually by the time David and Catherine arrived at Moat Studios, the nerves had totally evaporated.

“David and Catherine don’t behave like stars – they walked in as two normal people who get on with everyone. When you’re sitting having a cup of tea with David Tennant talking about The Avengers or whatever, you’re really just chatting to a lovely human being.”

It was director Ken Bentley’s first time directing David and Catherine, and before recording began he admitted to Vortex: “I’ve not had much time to think about it as we’ve been extremely busy through August and September. I only just managed to squeeze in the time to schedule it!

[Above (l-r) David Tennant and Catherine Tate]

“I’m like any fan, dying to hear what the Nobles, Wilf and The Doctor get up to. What a dream cast!” 

– Russell T Davies

“I always get excited about working on a new range. The bit I love the most about directing is working with actors, and to work with actors new to me is always something I look forward to.

“In my line of work it’s the rehearsal room and the recording studio where the magic happens, and it’s always a treat to watch professionals bringing roles to life.

“All actors work and respond differently. Part of my job is to quickly figure out how an actor likes to work so I can help make the recording go as smoothly as possible for them – and for everybody else. It’s a challenge I enjoy and I like to get it right. So it’s exciting for me to work with an entirely new team and to figure out what makes them tick.”

[Above Cover for “No Place” by James Goss, featuring (l-r) Bernard Cribbins, Catherine Tate, David Tennant, and Jacqueline King.]

The first story in the set is No Place by James Goss. Script editor Matt Fitton says: “We knew straightaway we could bring the wider Noble family into it by having Donna and Sylvia together, so we gave James that brief. It meant it had to be set on Donna’s contemporary Earth, since her mum isn’t aware of her space and time travel yet.”

Former Doctor Who showrunner Russell T Davies, creator of Donna, Sylvia and Wilf, tells Vortex: “I’m so excited about the return of the Noble family. I put in a request to Big Finish never thinking they’d actually pull it off. But, I might have known, they’re unstoppable! Marvellously, I haven’t heard the adventure myself yet, so I’m like any fan, dying to hear what the Nobles, Wilf and the Doctor get up to. What a dream cast!”

Jacqueline King was delighted to be back as Sylvia.

She says: “Since we finished on TV I’ve seen David a couple of times, and I keep in touch with Bernard because he’s so gorgeous! He and I did the quiz show Pointless. And Catherine was in a play which Bernard and I went to see together, so that was lovely. We’ve just not been all together so there was so much to catch up on. I felt desperately maternal towards Catherine, wanting to know how she was!

“I was very jealous that David and Catherine were going on to do more stories over the next couple of days without Bernard and myself. Bernard and I were joking, asking, How can you do that? That’s just disloyal!

“It was lovely, and if we could have carried on I would have but it was just one day. It would be heaven if we could do more!”

Matt continues: “James came back with this ‘haunted makeovers’ idea which was great, and as it was being developed we asked James to keep in mind a role for Wilf in case we were able to get Bernard Cribbins – perhaps just a cameo role. As it turned out we learned fairly early on that we could have Bernard for the whole day, so it all worked out perfectly and Wilf was fully included in the episode at the storyline stage.”

In a similar vein to what the TV show did at the time, No Place taps into the zeitgeist of what is currently popular on TV, which in this case brings in the feed of ghost and home makeover reality TV shows.

“If you’re a fan of either Buzzfeed Unsolved or Homes Under The Hammer you’ll find lots to love in this.” 

– James Goss

James explains: “Honestly, when you think about it most horror films are home makeover shows! Family moves into house on haunted graveyard. Tries to do it up. Ends up running away screaming/being dead/finds out they were always dead so probably shouldn’t have bothered wallpapering the downstairs bathroom. This was inspired by that. Imagining a horror film but with Kirsty Allsop following our screaming family about. And making the screaming family the Doctor, Donna, Sylvia and Wilf.

“If you’re a fan of either Buzzfeed Unsolved or Homes Under the Hammer you’ll find lots to love in this. We’ve got a ghostbox, we’ve got replacement light fittings, we’ve mysterious voices, we’ve endless discussions about plumbing. The one thing we couldn’t do was Hammer’s endless, appalling punning music track. (Presenter: ‘They really do love this hopeless place.’ Music: ‘We Found Love in a Hopeless Place’)!”

Producer David Richardson adds: “I’m struck by how creepy it all sounds. Some of the sequences in the old house are really unsettling even without any effects or music, which is a sure sign of how great the writing, performances and direction are.”

[Above Cover for “One Mile Down” by Jenny T Colgan, featuring (l-r) David Tennant, a Judoon, and Catherine Tate.]

One Mile Down by Jenny T Colgan continues the Doctor and Donna’s adventures when they find themselves in an underwater city and encounter the Judoon.

Matt continues: “In terms of using new series monsters, the Judoon are one of the most recognisable and the Tenth Doctor has some history with them, meeting them several times during his era.

“Because of what’s been established on screen there are certain monsters he’s meeting for the first time, but with the Judoon he knows what they’re about and how they work. They are not power-crazed evil monsters, they are mercenaries working for other people, and their agenda isn’t always immediately clear. It’s nice to have that bit of potential uncertainty – are they an ally? Are they a threat? We get to play with that in this story.”

“We have individuals in the Judoon ranks which we’ve touched on before. There’s the trainee, Klo, who starts to side with the Doctor and Donna, realising they can do some good during the story, which is a fun thing to play with.” The story’s setting lends itself to a good soundscape, with a city beneath the waves.

Matt explains: “In the TV episode Smith and Jones, the first thing we see the Judoon do is control the rain and send it upwards with their H2O scoop.

“That means we can make use of their technology which lends itself perfectly to an audio story.”

Of course, Donna has also encountered the Judoon on TV, and Matt adds: “Watching Donna in The Stolen Earth, we get a reaction from her to the Judoon, but when we checked with Russell he watched it back and felt there was no reason why Donna couldn’t have met them before.

“What’s clearly a surprise to her is the Doctor speaking Judoon, so we were very careful not to have him doing that in front of her.”

[Above Cover for “The Creeping Death” by Roy Gill, featuring (l-r) David Tennant, Catherine Tate, and Lauren Cornelius dressed in 1952 London period-costume, holding a torch.]

Concluding this series is The Creeping Death by Roy Gill.

David explains: “We asked the writers for short pitches – I think they might have sent in three ideas each. I’ve actually been keeping a list of things I want to see in a Doctor Who story, one of which was ‘The London Fog of 1952’, so it was a no-brainer when Roy pitched that one!”

Roy was delighted to be able to write for David Tennant, a fellow Scotsman, as well as Donna.

He admits it was: “Hugely exciting. They’re one of my Doctor Who dream teams, really. The Doctor and Donna are best friends, they’re fast and funny, they wind each other up but most importantly they make each other stronger and better. Their dialogue was a joy to write – and yes please, if the opportunity ever comes up, I absolutely want to do more!”

Roy travelled from his Edinburgh home to attend the recording at Moat Studios in London, and has plenty of happy memories from the sessions.

Roy adds: “Oh, loads! David asking, ‘Is that a Scottish accent?’ as soon as he met me – and then me kind of over-explaining where I’m from (sorry, David...). Catherine cracking up over her lines about ‘bad air’ and cheese and onion crisps… How quickly all the big, exciting scenes flew by in the recording booths.

“Stephen Critchlow talking over lunch about the classic Who he’d been watching with his daughter. Lauren Cornelius telling me she’d loved her character and the story so much that when she got the script she read it from cover to cover then immediately turned it over and read it again! Theo Stevenson saying he’d watched David Tennant’s Doctor when he was about 10 or 12. He was thrilled to be in a Doctor Who – making us all feel ancient!”

Producer David adds: “This story is brilliant! Just a character piece about a group of people lost in the fog and there’s something really nasty out there… David has some terrific speeches, Catherine gets to play out some lovely relationships with the guest characters, and the whole thing feels like it was on TV back in 2008.”

Director Ken Bentley was relieved when recording was complete after three successive days in studio – which Big Finish rarely do.

He explains: “It’s great to know we have a complete box set in the bag! These days availabilities are such that we’re squeezing in recordings as and when we can, sometimes over quite long periods of time. It’s rare to record three days straight and know you’ve got it all, but given the schedule we’re all on it’s a huge relief!”

“The whole thing feels like it was on TV back in 2008.” 

– David Richardson

Responsible for music and sound design is Howard Carter, who says: “I’ll usually go through and work out if there are any background or atmosphere tracks that reappear throughout the play, or any individual recurring effects (specific vehicles or weapons, for example). If so I will create these in advance and add them to the project library so they are ready to drag and drop in when I’m working. I’ll record the foley sound as I go and layer up all the relevant backgrounds and effects scene by scene. Once the full play is assembled I’ll send a draft off to the director and move on to the score.

“I will usually spend a couple of days scoring a play although if there’s more time I will always spend longer (I’m a composer by trade!). At this point I know the play well so will have a sense of the mood, style and pacing.

“If I’m working on a completely new play I’ll create a template and start adding instruments and sounds as I see fit in order to start with a completely fresh palette. Every play is different so I don’t have one fixed approach. There are scene breaks which usually need a cue, and there are sometimes musical directions in the script, but otherwise a lot of the process is instinctive. A play may need a lot of music to keep energy levels up and maintain a sense of pace, or it may need the music to really take a background role and just glue certain elements together. Each one is unique.”

– VORTEX Magazine, Issue 122, Pages 4-8

THE TENTH DOCTOR ADVENTURES VOLUME THREE IS OUT IN MAY ON CD AND DOWNLOAD.

The Tenth Doctor Adventures Volume Three is out in May on CD and Download.

The special edition release comes complete with exclusive production notes, storyboards from Mike Tucker and costume designs from June Hudson.

For full details visit www.bigfinish.com .

(Edited to include Lauren Cornelius’ name in the image description of “The Creeping Death” cover.)

[beatricebidelaire]

(sitting on the) edge of innocence

summary: Kit, Bertrand, and a talk in the Hinterlands about the upcoming opera night mission.

featuring: Bertrand, Kit. brief cameos of Olaf and Dewey.

word count: ~2.2k

alt: ao3

“Hey,” Olaf said as he walked into the kitchen, “you seen Kit?”

Bertrand felt himself tense slightly at the sight of O, but didn’t show it.  He continued pouring the boiled water from the pot into his cup carefully, his grip tightening around the handle.  The water in the cup eventually rose to the stage where he couldn’t add anymore without spilling it over when he walked, and he reluctantly put it down.  He knew Kit was out for a drive, but he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to tell Olaf that.

On the other hand, it wasn’t like the answer would get Olaf anywhere closer to finding Kit, with vagueness of “out for a drive” and Kit’s driving abilities and how she had no qualms of going on a road she’d never travelled before, literally not figuratively anyway. It wasn’t like Bertrand had never lied to Olaf before, and he’d no problem doing it again if he needed, but he did try to avoid doing so when he could. As if he had some pre-allocated quota of lies he was allowed to tell him or something.  There wasn’t, of course, but he tried to stick to this principle if possible.

He was also currently keeping something else, something very important from O too, but he wouldn’t count that as lying. Those were two different things.  Besides, they were never that close anyway, it wasn’t as if he normally told Olaf stuff. If anyone’s Olaf’s friend that would be -- he stopped his train of thoughts and focused on the current situation. “She went out on a drive.” He said.

“Again?” Olaf rolled his eyes, huffing as he ruffled through the fridge, then found a sandwich. He began eating it as he walked out, “I’m starting to think she’s avoiding me.”

Bertrand was glad Olaf’s already one foot out of the kitchen and not looking back, because this meant he didn’t have to think of a reply to this.

He sighed, then took a sip of the tea.  

Kit had good reason to avoid Olaf, of course.  Getting an assignment from your organization to be part of the mission to murder your boyfriend’s parents wasn’t something that happened everyday.  But if Olaf was suspicious of something going on …

He needed to talk to Kit, even though this wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to at all.  

Bertrand decided that since he wouldn’t be able to find Kit immediately now anyway, he might as well do something else for now.  He slipped into a tunnel from down under the city headquarters, and headed for Hotel Denouement. Or, more precisely, the hidden underwater library.

Dewey lit up when he saw Bertrand, grinning. “Hey,” he waved enthusiastically, “I want to show you this poem I found.”

Bertrand found himself relax, the thoughts about the mission and the impending talk with Kit going away.  Not entirely, as they were still on the back of his mind somewhere. But it was easier to ignore them here, surrounded by books that formed some kind of fortress against realities.  In here, there were just piles and piles of books, poetry, and Dewey.  No opera house maps with escape routes drawn, no trying to get poison darts supplies without arousing suspicions.

Unfortunately, these brief moments of peace always came to an end too soon.  Dewey looked at him hopefully when he said “visit again soon”, and Bertrand meant it when he said he would try, but somehow he still felt suddenly guilty for some reason.

Kit stepped on the brakes with possibly much more force than necessary and the taxi came to a sudden stop. For a moment, it looked like she was going to hit her head.  It didn’t happen, though it was very close. She drew a deep breath, and slowly loosened her tightened hold on the wheel.  She tried to smile a little, or perhaps a flippant grin or something, so when Bertrand step into the taxi, she could make it seem like she was just braking like this for fun, like she usually did, instead of because of anger and frustration.  It was hard trying remembering how to smile though. She managed to pulled the edge of her lips up slightly, but it felt more menacing than fun.  

On second thought, whatever, it was Bertrand. She didn’t necessarily have to pretend in front of him, perhaps. Not like she had to with either --

The door opened, and Bertrand stepped in.  However menacing or odd her unnatural grin might be, apparently he didn’t have much reaction to it. “Kit, we need to talk,” he said, straight to the point.

“I gathered,” she said coolly, finally figure out a way to smoothly ease out that weird grin.  “Want to go anywhere specific?”

A part of her wished he would yes, then she could tell him “well, if you’re lucky, it might be the same as the place I had in mind” and then drove to the Hinterlands so she wouldn’t have to see Olaf for a while.

“There is a specific place I wish I’m at, but that’s not where I think this conversation could be held, so … your choice.”

She narrowed her eyes briefly at the statement, momentarily forgetting her own personal troubles and anger. “Is it an underwater library you have in mind?”

He looked slightly taken aback. “How did you -- ”

“Dewey isn’t just your friend,” she rolled her eyes. “He mentioned you two have been reading poetry together a lot lately.”

“Yeah, guess we are,” he shrugged, a little uncomfortably.  She had the urge to ask if he ever thought he was using Dewey and his library as some kind of safe escape from the real life burdens, or ask him if he could see Dewey’s feelings for him that were just so … there.  She ultimately didn’t, because just a look at him made her sure that the first answer definitely was a yes, and the second a no.

“Well,” she changed the subject abruptly, stepping the accelerator hard, “we’re going to the Hinterlands.”

She heard a soft sigh from him, which oddly made her slightly satisfied.  The car sped up in an extreme short span of time, and she gripped the wheel tight, her fingers clenching around it as if clenching to the last thing still within her control as everything else spiraled out of order.  Fuck Bertrand for having this perfectly organized, neatly ordered library to escape to whenever he wanted without even realizing Dewey’s feelings.  Fuck herself for being jealous but refused to escape the same way, because she wanted to prove that she didn’t need the perfectly calm, isolated, and organized comfort zones right there in The City like he did.

If she was going to escape to somewhere, let it be a bleak, cold, snowy place up in the mountains.

She glanced at the intersection briefly, then ran a red light as they left the city behind.

They sat by a cliff, gazing at the snow mountains.  She pulled a pencil out of her hair and stuck it into the snow, for no particular reason.

“You’ve been avoiding Olaf,” Bertrand said finally, “he’s probably getting suspicious of something going on.”

“What, you two talk?” she scoffed. Staring at the pencil in the snow instead of looking up at him.

“He talks and I keep an ear open for anything that might threaten the mission,” Bertrand corrected her.

She used one hand to hold the part of pencil that was just above the snow, and the other to bend the upper parts of the pencil forward.  The pencil broke, leaving just the bottom half stuck in the snow.  She looked up at him, eerily calm as their eyes met. “He might be suspicious in general, but he had no idea of what’s specifically going on.”

“Not yet.”

She laughed sharply, “And it won’t matter anymore at that point, will it?  It’s not like he’s not going to find out who’s in on the mission eventually. It’s not like we’re all going to go back to our normal lives pretending nothing happened. It’s not like he and I are still going to be together after this.”

“Fine,” he bit out, looking a little angry.  Her lips twisted humorlessly, thinking to herself that she bet Beatrice never saw this side of him.  Neither did Dewey, probably. Or Jacques or Lemony. “But it’s still best to make sure he doesn’t think anything’s out of order, or he might start digging around, and if he got some help from others it might interfere with this.”

He sounded like he had a point, but Kit really doubted Olaf would directly jump to these kind of suspicions just by her avoiding him.  He might think she was seeing someone else, possibly, but definitely not plotting a murder where his parents were targets.

“Beatrice and him are still hanging out like normal as if nothing’s happening,” he added, and Kit suddenly wanted to break something more substantial than a pencil stuck in snow.  God, so this is about Beatrice now, is it? You think you understand her?  

You don’t understand her like I do and you never will, she wanted scream.

“You think she’s perfect,” she said slowly. “Everything she does is never wrong.  You don’t even understand why she’s keeping up her appearances with Olaf and that’s not just because of the mission.  You don’t understand her at all -- you don’t understand her like I do.”

You don’t understand her like I do you can’t see her like I could you don’t see the real her completed with all her flaws and still love her anyway still love her still love her still love her rough sides and sharp edges and her darker sides still love her, she thought, painfully.

“Don’t confuse other people with me,” he snapped, and she wondered if he really meant to say ‘your brother’.  “I don’t think she’s perfect and I don’t claim to understand her or know if she has other motives for doing so, I’m just saying she’s not suddenly avoiding him in a way that would make him suspicious -- unlike you.”

A beat of silence.  Snow continued falling from the sky.

“Sorry, I’m just, so afraid something’s going to go wrong,” he said, voice dropping to almost a whisper. He looked very pained for a moment before immediately slipping back into his very particular on brand anxiously-trying-to-get-along-with-everyone mode. “I know this isn’t easy for you.  I’m sorry.”

She didn’t want to talk about it.  She didn’t want to talk about Olaf or how she wanted to avoid him, or how she had agreed at the assignment briefing that yes she would take on the mission, and yes they could trust her, she would be a volunteer first.

He was looking at her, worry in his eyes and all the previous anger gone. She could practically feel him vibrating with anxiousness.  

She was suddenly very, very tired.

She decided to talk about Beatrice instead. “Beatrice’s not just pretending nothing’s going on when with him for the mission’s sake. She’s -- they’re friends for ages and she’s going to miss how it was, once everything between them changes.  She’s trying to hold on to the final moments.” I know her I see the real her I see everything she doesn’t say.

“I never really get their friendship,” he said quietly after some moments of silence, staring at the white scenery in front of them. “She’s -- I think she’s a great actress and there’s a lot she’s hiding underneath her dramatic performances that dazzle people. But, it’s like an earthquake, you know?  Sometimes when the energy doesn’t release for a very long time and just kept accumulating ...”

“Some places never get earthquakes, though,” she pointed out, wrapping her coat around her more firmly.

“True,” he conceded.

They were quiet for a while. Then Kit said, “She won’t break, and she won’t let anything affect the mission, even if she’s trying to hang on to these last moments of friendship between them.  She won’t.  I know her.” Her fingers dug into the snow beside the pencil. I know her I know her I know her --

“Right, okay,” he said, quietly. “I trust you on this.”

“Trust me on what I said about Olaf, too,” she said. “I can’t handle this the same way Beatrice does because it’s easier to avoid him for me, but I do know him enough to know he’s not going to suspect anything specific until it’s too late that knowing what exactly to interfere wouldn’t change anything.”

“Okay,” he agreed, tearing his gaze away from the scenery and met her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust your decisions.”

He looked as tired as she felt, but she could also see the sincerity in his eyes. She didn’t have the energy to stay angry anymore, not in this cold snowy weather.  Plus, it wasn’t actually that easy for anyone to stay angry at him for too long.

“I know you’re just worried,” she said with a sigh.  She pulled out the half of the pencil that was stuck in snow, and pocketed both halves. “C’mon.  Let’s head back.”

[thenightling]

The clever references from the start of last night’s Rick and Morty

The first thing you may have noticed is a certain skinny, tall, dark haired figure chasing Rick and Morty through a staircase room... 

That character was based on Morpheus AKA Dream of The Endless, otherwise known as The Sandman.  He is the protagonist from Neil Gaiman’s multi-award winning comic book series The Sandman.

Originally published by DC, Sandman started in late 1988 and was later published by Vertigo (which is owned by DC) Sandman tells the life story of Morpheus, the ruler of the dimension of both Dreams and Nightmares.     

The most recent installment of this cult classic comic book series was a prequel that was compiled just last year into the graphic novel called Sandman: Overture.  Sandman: Overture won a 2016 Hugo Award and had imagery very similar to what was in the opening of last night’s Rick and Morty.

Morpheus has certain distinct physical characteristics.  He has thick, wild dark hair and chalk white (or grey) skin.  He is extremely skinny and tall.  He usually wears a black cloak or long black jacket.  At his neck he often used to wear a  “Dreamstone” amulet (originally a ruby though Dream’s newest incarnation wears an emerald).  His eyes are entirely black except for tiny star-like pupils that can flare when he’s emotional. 

All of these distinctive traits can be found in the very character who made his brief appearance last night in the opening of Rick and Morty.  

The second thing to note is the room Rick and Morty were in.  It probably looked familiar to you. 

That staircase room has appeared in TV and movies for decades, from Jim Henson’s Labyrinth (1986) to Syfy’s Warehouse 13.   That room is called The Escher Room and it is based on a famous optical illusion by M. C. Escher.

 I strongly suspect the choosing of The Escher Room and it’s crumbling at the start of last night’s Rick and Morty was a deliberate nod to the 1986 fantasy film, Jim Henson’s Labyrinth.

You will notice that The Goblin King, Jareth (Davie Bowie’s character in that picture above) bears a certain physical similarity to Morpheus.  Many fans noticed this.  I have been told that Neil Gaiman is big fan of both Labyrinth and David Bowie.  He even originally modeled his Lucifer Morningstar (who now has a TV series on Fox and first appeared in the Sandman comics) after David Bowie.

Many fans have noted that Morpheus looks like a photo negative of Jareth from Labyrinth.  Observe.

Like Morpheus, Jareth also rules his own fantastical dimension where reality bends to his will.  

The fact that Morpheus is essentially “Emo Jareth “ (to quote a friend of mine) makes it easy to understand why the familiar visual of the Escher Room was chosen as it was destroyed at the end of the Rick and Morty scene, much like the version shown in the film Labyrinth crumbled around Sarah (the film’s protagonist). 

Combining Morpheus with Jareth is an excellent and easy to understand idea much like when the Rick and Morty writers noticed the similarities between Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes and Stephen King’s Needful Things and they merged Mr. Dark (From Something Wicked This way Comes) with the antagonist of Needful Things to create “Mr. Needful” for the episode Something Ricked This Way Comes for season one. 

And for anyone wondering, Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This way Comes was published before Stephen King’s Needful Things and even had a film adaptation before Needful Things did as well, though the plots were very similar. 

The biggest difference was Something Wicked This way Comes dealt with a sinister carnival that offered you your heart’s desires at a terrible price and Needful Things had the antique shop like in the Rick and Morty episode.  Mr. Dark was the ringmaster of the carnival in Something Wicked This Way Comes.

(A physical comparison of Mr. Dark and Rick and Morty’s Mr. Needful below in images).

As the new “Sandman-esque” cameo character was not named and has none of Jareth’s physical traits but does have all of Morpheus’ physical traits he is named Morpheus in my head unless the show decides to have him appear again later and properly names the spoof character.

PS, I would kill for a Scary Terry vs. Morpheus event of some kind.  There’s fan art of Freddy Krueger vs. Morpheus, which I won’t post here because I don’t have permission from the artists who made them but it can be easily googled.

[empress-of-snark]

(last header by @caseyblu)

AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR (2018)

(I am a Fool and I didn’t post this yesterday, I apologize)

AKA: I wish I hadn’t already used the “Everything hurts and I’m dying” reference on Iron Man 2, because it’s even more applicable now.

(So many spoilers, like seriously, don’t read if you haven’t seen Infinity War yet.)

Hoo boy, wow. This was the big one. It’s kind of like Civil War--there’s just so much going on that it’s hard to know where to start. Only it’s like 100 times bigger than that. So yeah, this might get confusing. Sorry in advance.

First off, I’m not totally convinced that Loki’s dead. I know, I know, I’m not gonna go off on a rant and it’s not just because I like him. It’s because his death really didn’t make sense. I mean, I understand why it had to happen plot-wise, but I don’t understand why someone as powerful as Loki would simply use a knife to attack Thanos, who now has two infinity stones. One could argue he wasn’t thinking clearly after seeing Thor tortured, but that doesn’t seem in-character to me. I dunno, maybe I’m just in denial. But I have a hunch he may come back one last time in Avengers 4, maybe with Valkyrie.

There were a lot of characters absent who I expect will make an appearance in Avengers 4, assuming they weren’t dusted. Hawkeye, Ant-Man & the Wasp, Valkyrie, Korg & Meik, Lady Sif, Wong (if he’s done protecting the Sanctorum, that is).

Actually, I’m calling it right now. End credits scene of Avengers 4. Dr. Strange opens the doors to the Sanctum Sanctorum, bloody, bruised, and exhausted after the fight of his life. Wong is sitting on the stairs with a half-eaten carton of Ben & Jerry’s “Hulk-A-Hulk-A-Burning-Fudge” ice cream. “How’d it go?”

Also excited to meet Captain Marvel and learn what exactly she’s been doing for the past ten years that was more important than ever helping save the world. Maybe she’s just so powerful that no threat has been big enough to require her presence? I guess we’ll find out next year.

Anyway, it was great seeing all the different characters meet and interact for the first time. It’s another big crossover, like the first Avengers movie. Except this one is like three or four big groups scattered across the galaxy and you have to keep track of who knows who and who’s where doing what. It gets confusing at times, especially trying to remember things like who’s supposed to know about the infinity stones, who knows about Thanos, who has no idea what’s going on, etc.

I spotted another timeline issue that confuses things even more, actually. Tony references the events of the first Avengers film and says they happened six years ago. Which means that technically Spiderman Homecoming is supposed to happen two years after this (as the beginning indicates it’s eight years after the attack on New York). I guess it doesn’t make a huge difference, I’m just surprised they’d make a mistake like that, with how meticulous they usually are about continuity.

It was still pretty painful to watch all those characters turn to dust at the end, even though I know they’re definitely coming back in Avengers 4 (they literally just announced the release date of Spiderman 2). Ugh, his scene still gets me. Knowing that his lines there were improvised honestly makes it worse.

This is obviously the first time we’ve ever seen a villain actually win, even if it’s just part one. And before anyone says anything else about Quill ruining the plan and being responsible for their loss, consider this: Strange saw this future. He knew there was only one way they could defeat Thanos and if he didn’t stop Quill then, that means it had to happen. If Quill had stayed quiet and they’d gotten the gauntlet off, something else would’ve gone wrong and Thanos still would’ve killed half the universe.

Also, consider that Quill has always been a very emotional character. He had the same reaction to Gamora’s death that he did in Guardians 2 when he learned that Ego killed his mother. He was not acting rationally and we shouldn’t condemn him for being sad/angry that the woman he loves is dead.

It is a little unhelpful that Strange dissolved before leaving any sort of instructions. He’s the only one who knows exactly what should happen and now he’s gone, leaving everyone else to figure it out on their own.

One complaint that my brother pointed out is that this movie kind of negates a lot of what happened in Ragnarok. Yes, Asgard is still gone, but the point of Ragnarok was to strip Thor down to nothing. He lost his hammer. In Infinity War, he’s got a new axe. He lost an eye. Rocket gives him a new one. He and Loki finally reconciled. Loki’s dead now. He befriended Valkyrie. Who even knows where Valkyrie is. Also half the Asgardian refugees are dead now. It just makes you wonder what the point of Ragnarok was if nothing stuck.

So let’s talk about Gamora real quick. First of all, her singing along with Quill to his music was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Second of all, I’m not convinced she’s dead either (yes, like Loki, this is partly just because I don’t want her to be dead). There’s theories that she may be trapped in the soul stone, possibly along with everyone who got dusted, which means that there may be a chance of getting her back in Avengers 4. I really hope so, cause I just can’t imagine another Guardians movie without her.

There’s probably a million and one other things left to say but I don’t want this review to drag on too long. You all saw the movie, you know how devastating it is, I don’t have to tell you.

RANKINGS:      Disclaimer: We’re considering the characters who went through the most change/development as ‘heroes’ and everyone else as ‘supporting.’ I’d love to sit down and rank every single character in this movie, but we’d be here all day.

     Hero(es): 8.5 Stormbreakers out of 10. This is Tony, Dr. Strange, Peter Quill, Gamora, Vision, Wanda, and Thor. All seven of these characters went through a ton of character development and growth, and come across as the real main characters. They all played off each other well (those that interacted, that is), and every one of them had to make some incredibly hard decisions that really reflected their heroism.

     Villain: 9.5 snaps out of 10. I mean, a villain always gets points when he’s easy to hate, and Thanos makes it soooo easy, omg. Like some others, his motivations actually make sense in a really twisted way and he’s not just trying to take over the world, which gets old. Plus, he actually succeeded in his goal! Can’t wait to see him get beaten to death in Avengers 4, fingers crossed.

     Supporting characters: 8 tuna melts out of 10. This is everyone but the seven mentioned above. Lots of the supporting characters provide a little comic relief in the more stressful moments. Just about every character plays some important role in the story and they all manage to work together to defeat Thanos.           Female characters: 7.5 Bechdels out of 10. This one kind of passes for a very brief interaction between Wanda, Natasha, and Proxima Midnight (Thanos’s evil daughter) on the battlefield in Wakanda. But we’ve established in the past that a movie can still be feminist whether or not it passes the Bechdel test. And this one still gets points for having multiple female characters who play crucial roles in the plot. Wanda and Gamora especially, as previously stated, are central characters. In fact, I think I read somewhere that Gamora actually gets the most screen time out of all the heroes, at something like 19 minutes.

     Action scenes: 10 punches out of 10. Nearly every MCU hero from the past ten years has to band together to fight Thanos and we get to see the full extent of everyone’s abilities. I especially love watching Dr. Strange and Wanda’s fighting techniques. Plus, the movie does a great job at balancing all the action by cutting back and forth between the different locations and giving us some reprieve from non-stop fighting.

     Stan Lee: 4 cameos out of 10. As Peter’s field trip bus driver, he delivers one of his best cameo lines: “What’s the matter, kids? You never seen a spaceship before?”

     Charisma: 8.5 points out of 10. This movie has some great themes of love and sacrifice. Multiple times one of the characters is forced to choose between a stone and a loved one (Thor and Loki, Gamora and Nebula, Wanda and Vision, etc.), and nearly every time, they choose their loved one. Thanos believes in sacrifice for the greater good, which is why he was willing to kill Gamora for the soul stone, but the heroes do not. Wanda is the only one who ends up sacrificing the one she loves (Vision) in order to destroy the mind stone, but she only does so under extreme duress and after exhausting every other option first. The running themes are very consistent, though I can’t say you leave the movie feeling good about anything, lol.

In total: 56 out of 65, so an 86%, which is actually higher than its Rotten Tomatoes score of 84%.

And that officially concludes the Great Marvel Rewatch of 2k18!! Thanks for following along, those of you who did! It’s been a fun, emotional, two weeks. Stay tuned for later, follow-up posts featuring a complete rankings list and possibly some other bonus materials! :)