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zukofenty · 4 years

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off the grid

➜ Summary: The one where Katara is a spoiled heiress who manages to crash land on a (cute) soldier of one of the most dangerous nations in the world.

“Get your face out of my vagina!” Katara screams at the top of her lungs.

“Here’s a thought, get your vagina out of my face first!”

➜ Genre: Modern!AU, humor, CEO!Katara, Soldier!Zuko, Crash Landing on You!AU

➜ Words: 10.3k

AO3 @zutaramonth

“Get your face out of my vagina!” Katara screams at the top of her lungs.

“Here’s a thought, get your vagina out of my face first!” Zuko yelps, words gargling. He currently was being suffocated by the crotch at his neck. After Katara’s many screams, and a swift kick to his face, they both scrambled off each other, laying on the ground for a quick moment of relief. Her body is aching after throwing herself from the tree she was stuck in.

After realization set in that he was a soldier who was just nearly crushed to death by a cooch, and she was a woman who somehow crossed impenetrable borders, they swiftly were both upright. Katara in a fighting stance, and Zuko’s gun automatically pointed at the girl’s face. Her eyes nervously darted around, looking for any escape route in the expanse of wilderness and trees and furry animals she sure were foaming at the mouth, looking for a bite of gorgeous heiress who smelled of Chanel No. 5.

“I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me!” Katara screeches, taking off as fast as her Yeezys could take her.

“Um, yeah I can !” He insists, shooting into her general direction. He wasn’t trying to kill her persay. Maybe maim. (It just would’ve been a lot easier if she died).

“Fuck!” he screams, once the girl was out of sight.

Last week, Katara was cyberbullying Debby Ryan from the comfort of her penthouse. One of her larger concerns of the week was debating buying the rights to all of her Disney Channel movies, just because she felt like it. Then, she could post clips of her disturbing, Radio Rebel smile every day on Instagram without copyright claims and she could blissfully ignore Debby Ryan DMing her a defamation lawsuit.

She had money money . Like being able to turn on the AC during the summer type of wealthy. The type of rich that could sing John Lennon’s Imagine during any crisis and say that’s enough activism for today . After all, she was an heiress of one of the richest families in the Water Tribes—a nation at the forefront of nearly every cultural conversation. In the past, every other nation out there doubted their abilities based on size alone, underestimating the tribes’ growing force. Once a nation surviving on simply hope to prosper post 100 Years War, they were now a cultural powerhouse you couldn’t ignore if you tried. From their dramas, skincare routines, and exquisite cuisine (two-headed fish soup and all), the nation was suddenly the talk of the entire world. They thrived under people’s ignorant assumptions. Blossomed despite people’s mistreatment of them in the media. Soon enough, those who questioned their authority were begging for alliances.

Except for the Fire Nation. A nation stuck so determinedly in the past. Notorious for their inability to move on from the world of centuries ago. The world where the Fire Nation was a dominating force. While every nation competed to innovate, the Fire Nation seemingly refused to accept reality. Their borders were violently closed off. Their trade was limited to working with the Earth Nation every once in a blue moon. Refugees who manage to escape tell stories of a cruel life seemingly stuck in the stone ages. Their leader, Azulon, threatens to bomb somewhere, something, someone every other week, and every nation’s relationship with them has remained precariously in the air since then.

“What the actual fuck !” She screeches. “I thought this was one of those national parks joggers find bodies in, not the fucking Fire Nation !”

Dead or alive, people weren’t allowed to make it out of the Fire Nation.

Katara was a stubborn CEO. The kind to only accept things by her way, by her standards. Coming from money didn’t mean shit when you didn’t have the raw hunger she had. She wasn’t like many of her peers. She wasn’t content with just sitting back and signing a few papers once in a while so she could make it to her SoulCycle class. But, she’d like to think that’s what made her so successful for the last decade. Katara was insistent on testing her clothing company’s new batch of athletic clothing. She scaled a mountain range in the sweat resistant hoodie. She swam in Olympic sized pools in their innovative, competition ready swimsuit and swim cap matching set. Of course, it made sense to test their new paragliding uniform. At the time.

“ Don’t move. This field is full of landmines,” Zuko warns, putting out his hand to stop the shaking girl. He sees it in her eyes, the way she’s about to run after he’s managed to catch up to her, and unknowingly blow this entire shit up. “They’re grey and round, or shaped like a box that—”

“Like the one you’re stepping on, right now?” Katara smirks, hands coming to her hips to taunt him.

He freezes, hands coming out to balance himself at the edge of the stream she’s managed to leap across.

“Again, I am a bad bitch. These won’t kill me. You won’t kill me.” She snatches his walkie talkie from his jacket’s pocket, and thinks about just taking it and letting the guy who almost fucking shot her suffer. She decides against it (she didn’t want to get on God’s, or Rihanna’s, bad side today) and sets it down on the ground in front of him. He’s left to watch her expertly leap around a few stray explosives.

“If ‘bad bitch’ means missing a few limbs, sure. Go ahead ,” Zuko baits. She happily gives him the bird, before running as fast as she could in her Yeezy Boost 350s. Running even when she hears gunshots whizzing past her. Running even when she sees a sign, warning about a field of landmines.

She runs until her vision becomes blurry, and all she can hear are little children chanting a song about the Fire Nation’s greatness. She runs, even when her body feels like lead, and her eyes are a hair’s breadth away from shutting.

He doesn’t know why he helps her. Why he wants her to get out of here alive. Why he scoops her up once soldiers began flooding the village she stumbled upon. They were making sure everyone was doing their part in singing the national anthem before the enforced curfew. She should’ve been shot to death by now by his men, or at least mauled by a wild lion vulture.

He just doesn’t understand it. Their forces were meant to kill , trained to shoot anything at the border on sight. He doesn’t understand how this five foot nothing girl had outrun men who have trained in the military for nearly their whole lives. His army was sloppy that day. Most of them were still drunk off of whatever cactus juice and homemade wine combination the ladies at the local village had offered to them. Then again, it wasn’t every day someone decided to paraglide during the biggest storm of the decade. It wasn’t every day someone managed to cross into the Fire Nation, when no one wanted to be there for decades .

He doesn’t understand why he pulled her close to his body at the sight of the military’s trucks, and runs them into his house at the edge of the hill. He doesn’t understand why he spent the last three hours painstakingly cooking up noodles from scratch for her. She takes a quick nap on an old sleeping mat he found while he works diligently. His stomach protests the fragrant aroma. He hasn’t eaten a homemade meal in months.

“People literally steal and sell my pubic hairs on eBay. The average price is one grand for a single strand. I deserve better,” Katara says. He thinks it’s completely in jest. She cackles when he glares at her. The smile she sends him tries to relay that she's grateful, but he’s hardly swayed by her charms. Instead, he’s scoffing at the efforts.

A first for her.

She’s used to getting her way, as an expert at manipulation. When you’ve spent your whole life ruthlessly competing to run one of the largest corporations in the world, you couldn’t afford to be sweet or gentle or genuine. You learned to work people, bend them to your will until they snap. Then, you move on. Find someone else, do the old song and dance again.

Before she could even lift a chopstick, Zuko quickly grabs the bowl from her grasp, a pout forming on his lips. While he was always taught to school his features, he always knew he was no good at it.

“I will continue to do what I’ve been doing for the last two hours, and just ignore everything you’ve been saying,” he mutters, sipping at the broth to her dismay. The second she walked in, she called his house “a hut with a dick in it.” When he instructed her to take a shit in the outhouse, she didn't speak to him for the next hour. He thinks he saw her tear up when he mentioned there was no Internet. He swears he was ten seconds away from busting a vein.

“ Ugh . Room temperature water?” Zuko guffaws once her nose crinkles up in disgust.

He blows a stray strand of his hair away from his face. “There are no ice cubes.” She hates how everything he says is so matter of fact.

“Get some, then.” she says, as though it was the most obvious answer in the world. “I don’t drink ice cube-less water.”

He just laughs. “Right, when we get any sort of electricity first, I’ll make it my number one priority to get a fridge that dispenses ice cubes engraved with your perfectly detailed portrait on them, too.”

Katara shoves at him, and he just stares at the spot on his chest she touched. “For future reference, I am vegan. Well, vegan adjacent. But still. The point is I am a delicate flower with an even more delicate diet. A delicate flower that’s used to caviar and organic shit and the rich people gluten-free bread you get from Trader Joe’s. So I’ll excuse it this time, but the next time you make something please remember.” She follows up the command with a sweet smile, as though it made up for her demands.

The memory of her dodging bullets with a branch in her hair easily comes up in his mind. “Nothing about you is delicate.” Zuko barely budges when she tries reaching for the bowl again.

Katara gasps. “Even my bowel movements are delicate!”

He just snorts.

She’s annoying, he decides. All brattiness considered. Even with her tiny frame drowning in her dirty paragliding uniform, and a pout that has him wanting to laugh. The way she moves is dainty, with the self-assurance only those who grew up in comfort have. But, something about her eyes reveal something crueler, something so much more vicious underneath the soft exterior.

He was thoroughly out of options. While he has her holed up in his house until they decide an escape route, he feels his stomach churning at the thought of the Fire Nation’s regular surprise house inspections. Turning her over to the government meant a quick and easy execution for him and his men without question, and the potential to cause even more political strain with the rest of the world. Even if they do hand her to the government, there’s no telling what they would do to her.

He tries to blink the sleep out of his eyes, rubbing at them as thought it could end the nightmare he found himself trapped in.

For the last few years, Zuko’s life was a monotonous routine.

“Type 63 Rifle, Soviet SKS carbine,” Zuko breathes, ears perking up at the sound of the weapon. His hand comes out to halt the hordes of men. “One of us. Retreat,” he barked, arms motioning for his battalion to return to their hidden positions among the dwindling flora and fauna. Months in his uniform without rest, months spent guarding the border to ensure no one left.

He doesn’t remember much about his life before this. He tries to forget, because it made him too sad. It made him want to do something reckless, to break something, to even cry , because he’s long forgotten anything but getting up, getting into uniform, getting into routine.

It was his duty, as the only son of the Fire Nation’s notorious military director.

He was trained to be a war wielding machine. To show no mercy. Men in the Fire Nation weren’t meant to be weak . They weren’t allowed to be soft.

His mother tried to get away from all of it. She tried as hard as she could to tell her children there was a life you could feel beat with all of your heart, as long as cruelty didn’t find it first. She knew Zuko wasn’t meant for this life.

Zuko knew, too.

He was never good at anything, never the best one growing up. While he excelled at delivering blows, or wielding his swords, he was always told his mind was a pathetic thing. Too brash, too naive. Azula was always the better one at that. At violence. She was their father’s right hand, her thoughts filled to the brim with genius strategy. Always one step ahead of everyone else, even as a toddler.

Zuko was content to be in the background, to be nothing more than a decoration when the family portrait needed to be taken. He wants to be selfish, to blame Azula for pressing pause on his life. The day she was assassinated was the day his dreams of forgetting the Fire Nation all but shriveled up. After all, tradition mandated the military director had a blood successor.

“I am not going to put back on my dirty underwear after I shower! I am not a Bhad Bhabie type of bitch,” Katara indignantly spits out, crossing her arms over her chest.

Zuko rolls his eyes. Everything she says is confusing .

“Don’t act up while I’m gone,” Zuko begs.

“Like the City Girls?”

She feels her blood boil at his silence.

“Please tell me you’re lying. Please tell me you’ve heard of ‘Act Up.’ Please. Don’t let me down now.”

“I have no—”

“Seriously, where were you all summer? ‘Act up, you can get snatched up?’ Nothing? Nothing rings a fucking bell?” He can’t help but sweat.

Even when he looked up whatever she says on his work computer (the only time people in the Fire Nation were allowed to use the Internet) he still can’t wrap his head around what exactly a Bhad Bhabie was.

“Then don’t wear underwear. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

She holds the landline phone close to her mouth, as if to make the message clearer. “Where will the pussy juices go then!”

Zuko hangs up on her, only to have her call him precisely 12 minutes later.

“My right nipple is chafing. What about my nipple eczema!” She protests. She feels her face shriveling up. Without her Yves Saint Laurent Firming Serum, she feels like a piece of her identity was missing. He had diligently informed her to use his sole bar of soap for all purposes before he left for work, and she nearly fainted on the spot.

“Tell it to go away, I guess?” Zuko suggests, trying his hardest to sound helpful. He tried leaving detailed notes on how to take a hot bath by pouring boiling water in his basin, and clipping the plastic shower curtain to the ceiling, trapping the heat in. He prays she hasn’t burned down his house, or someone hasn’t seen her through the gate.

“I can’t!” Katara seethes.

Zuko rubs at his temples. “This was meant for only emergencies. Goodbye !” Zuko slams the phone, returning to his paperwork. He feels a hot blush spreading across his cheeks, and tries to bring his hand up to his face to alleviate the warm feeling.

She doesn’t know why he’s so nice to her.

When she’s all but threatened him and blackmailed his entire crew to keep their silence and help her escape.

She simply laughs, the sound foreign to even her own ears. Her empty stomach painfully clenched in protest at the sudden sensation. It had to be some sort of sick joke. A sick fucking joke probably crafted up by Pakku! Or some of those man-children from the Northern Tribes who think they know a thing or two because they took a Marketing 101 crash course on Khan Academy!

She needed to get back for the big shareholders meeting. They were going to announce the new CEO of Moon Tech, the largest corporation in the Water Tribes. It was everything she had been working for her entire life. She couldn’t afford to miss it, lest it show any weakness whatsoever. As the most viable successor, she was sure all eyes were watching her every move. Yet, somehow, she managed to end up on the set of a period piece gone wrong. A miserable, yet probably Academy Award winning, period piece that smelled like moose knuckle pussy pickle.

She looked to the closed door, the flimsy thing separating the minute living room from his even smaller bedroom. She felt guilty for misjudging him upon their first meeting.

She thinks she feels more guilty for breaking his favorite vase.

“C’mon! That was my favorite ficus,” he grumbles, rubbing the spot on his head she broke the vase on. He avoids her gaze because she’s clad in one of his old dress shirts and nothing else, the thing coming to fall at her knees. If he blushes any harder, he thinks she might notice. Her hair is wrapped up in a messy updo and her face is scrubbed clean. The faintest tint of pink dusts across her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she whispers, hand coming to rub at the spot. She was nervous hearing someone wiggle the doorknob when he hadn’t come back well into the night. Why he had three locks on his door and used exactly none of them, she wasn’t quite sure. She thought she was being helpful by locking his doors. Until it was becoming apparent he didn’t care enough to carry his keys with him, and had an additional unlocked back door he was just attacked at.

He swats her away swiftly, body mechanically programmed to attack for coming so close to him. He’s body slammed bigger men for breathing through their mouths. But something stops him abruptly, and he stills when she comes closer, roughly grabbing at his head between her two hands, and bringing it to her eye level. “A slight bump will form, but it’ll go away faster if you soak some rice and press here,” she precisely finds the swelling area. He winces when he feels the pressure.

Her eyes are impossibly wide while she watches him, and he can’t help but shrink at her careful stare. This was the quietest she’s been since she crash landed. He feels unsettled. “I—I got you some stuff.” He places the bag gently in front of her, a now familiar flush coming to pepper his cheeks. “I’m going to go to bed now,” he lies, retreating to his room while still rubbing at his head.

“Thanks,” her voice is barely a whisper, and stops him in his tracks. He turns to her, and her smile is so genuine. Her eyes are swelling with joy and it makes his heart ache. It seemed easier to talk to her that night than in the day. There wasn’t an impossible front to break open to see how she was feeling, the moonlight peeking through the cracks in the wall seemed to make her eyes wider, smile brighter even. Her guard is down and it makes emotions easier to decipher.

She thinks she can’t feel her face when she opens the bag. “I’m such a bitch,” she babbles to herself as she opens the boxes of shampoo, conditioner, and even signature Water Tribe moisturizers. Everything she complained about he managed to remember to a T. He even got her some traditional Fire Nation women’s outfits, even when she was only staying for the next couple of days. The tears pricking at her eyes feel foreign. She could afford private jets to fly to Beverly Hills and start a fist fight with Kim Kardashian just because she hit Kourtney in season 18. A couple dollars worth of smuggled products shouldn’t make her a weepy mess. Somehow though, she feels herself unable to dim the smile plastered across her face.

Zuko wants to jump for joy. Though, he resists the urge when getting up too fast makes his head bump feel like it has a second heartbeat. He spent the better part of his evening at the open air marketplace a few blocks from the village. It was worth enduring the questioning glances from the shop vendors. Even when he felt like crawling in a hole and dying as he hastily gestured he wanted to purchase women’s underwear, it was all worth it when he’s lulled to sleep to the sound of Katara’s giggles.

“I think he just smiled.” Mako whisper-screams. Nearly all the jaws in the mess hall drop open.

“You’re lying ,” a voice squeaks out. The dozens of heads seem to collectively turn towards their captain. Their stomachs churned at seeing living proof of the small smirk on his face. He’s distracted. Staring off into the distance, he’s just picking at the meager helpings of his lunch on his plate.

For all intents and purposes, Zuko was boring . He was a stick in the mud, the kind of guy you saw laugh once or twice a year for obligatory purposes, just to make sure everyone knew he wasn’t a robot assigned by the government to spy on soldiers.

He was a captain who delivered orders, and nothing more. A strict, by the book kind of guy. The team knew little to nothing about him. They weren’t even sure he used the bathroom like a normal human being (half of them were betting money on the robot theory). They just weren’t close like that. They weren’t the type of team to be able to joke around with their captain, share their stories, bleed their heart out on the military field. They knew the scar on his face meant he had pissed off some higher ranking officials who still possessed the power to firebend, a sacred art limited to the few. It meant there was more to the story than just a bumbling captain of a lower ranked crew. The most they got out of him was once in a while he would startle a young kid, who was just trying to get his mandated service over with. He’d clap them on the shoulder and would murmur a low “Good job.” (His definition of keeping up team morale).

He was efficient at his job, and good at keeping his men safe, rarely raising his voice to anyone except maybe himself. More than what they could say for other captains. He was hard on his men, but harder on himself. It was rare to see him doing anything but stress .

Smiling ? Simply out of the question.

He couldn’t help it! It was an automatic reaction to the morning he had.

“Thank you, for everything,” Katara says quietly, placing the tray of food on his night stand. She knew he had to get to the military base in the wee hours of the morning, and also knew she wasn’t going to wake up in time without her vibrating mattress alarm clock. So she pulls an all nighter, and tries to figure out how to use the tools and contraptions at her disposal. She didn’t mean to startle him, she swears. She has to stifle a laugh when he wakes up with a start. Eyes slowly peeling open, the eye crust obstructing his view. His hair is facing every which way. He looks younger, somehow. The messy hair, the wrinkled shirt, and drool he makes a quick job of wiping away.

“What’s this?” He peers up at her curiously, placing the tray in his lap.

“My labor of love.” She insists, sitting even closer to him on his bed. She thinks she likes it when he squirms under her gaze. For all the military get up with metallic shoulders, and the endless medals pinned to his uniforms, he was just a boy under it all. “I know, I haven’t been the most...easy guest to have.” She ignores his snort. “After all of this over, after the Fire Nation opens up its borders again, I promise you. I will pay you ten times what this hut with a dick is worth. Because…” she breathes in, looking unsure of herself. “I’ll never forget your kindness.”

“T—Thank you,” he stutters. He thinks they’re empty promises, but doesn’t try to question them too hard. It shouldn’t be possible for his heart to pulse as fast as it does, but it seems to be mesmerized by how much wider her smile was able to get. The noodles are misshapen, probably because of her inexperience with the old-fashioned machine. The broth is salty and makes Zuko’s throat beg for a glass of water. And yet, he slurps up the entire dish without complaint.

Anything to see her eyes light up.

“The first boob I ever saw was in Titanic . Haven’t seen one since. Waiting for Titanic 2 to come out.” Mako says proudly, puffing out his chest. He hoped his extensive knowledge of non-Fire Nation films would entertain Katara. Zuko’s few trusted men (mainly the ones who were responsible for letting her escape in the first place) were instructed to keep her safe while he sorted out the plans for her escape. Iroh was able to set up a clandestine arrangement with a ship leaving the Fire Nation docks for their semi annual pickup of Earth Nation goods. They were hoping she could sneak through to the Earth Nation, and explain her situation with customs there.

“Buddy, I got some news for you.” Katara smirks, and the boys grow nervous. She was pretty. The type of pretty that made people stare, wondering if it was possible for someone’s eyes to twinkle in the sunlight. She looked like one of those celebrities in the movies he loved. Talked like one, too. In the Fire Nation, she was the type of pretty where guys would be bartering an entire village just to get a chance to look at her. Though, just from talking with her, she seemed like the type of girl who would hide in her house after gaining said village, just to spite them.

Mako was curious about the Water Nation. Their schools taught them that Azulon was an elite magical creature that somehow never needed to take a shit, and people in the other nations defecated three times the amount of Fire Nation folk. He always knew something was up. Everyone was constantly smuggling goods from all the other nations, especially from the Water Nation. There were automatic rice cookers that played a song when it finished making perfect rice, and little boxes that could play music when you press it. Mako always knew there was so much more out there than people in the Fire Nation could ever know.

She tells them stories of her life in the Water Tribes as they wait for Zuko, and she pointedly ignores the scoffs and disbelief. “There are toilets that shoot out water into your ass crack to clean it?”

“You can adjust the settings and everything!” She proclaims, pride filling every one of her words. “Warm, cool, even inconsistent spurts if you’re into that shit.”

They all make a noise of amazement. “That’s incredible .” She talks about sky rises, and business meetings with rich people, and showers that turn on with a drop of a hat.

“What’s a Rihanna again? Is that your God?”

“Yes.” Katara answers, with no hesitation. “See, she is the baddest in the land—”

“Wait!” Bolin abruptly stops her. “I thought that was your God...Megan Thee Stallion?”

“She’s the thiccest of them all.” Katara punctuated with a click of her tongue. “I thought we went over this!”

“Sorry,” they grunt, looking especially sheepish.

“What does she preach?” Kai inquires, eyes growing wide with delight.

Katara taps her lip, eyes coming up to the ceiling trying to concentrate. “She’s a goddess who empowers women! She tries to get everyone to build their knee strength. I think one of her sayings is ‘I need a Mr. Clean, make that pussy beam,’” Katara .

Zuko watches on, leaning on the door frame. He wants to hate the fact that he’ll miss her.

Everything was supposed to be easy at this point.

“Don’t forget about me.” She holds onto his arm as they sit against the edge of the fishing vessel, the waves impatiently slapping against them. He was supposed to bid her farewell at the dock, but something in him wanted to guarantee she was able to get on the second boat to the Earth Nation.

He’s still clad in one of his more formal uniforms. He still feels the chill of the night scraping through the fabric of his double breasted blazer.

Katara openly welcomes the cold, after nearly sweltering to death every second she’s been in the Fire Nation.

He lets his smile reach his eyes. “How could I forget a girl who nearly crushed me to death with her crotch.”

Her guffaw has the captain, Jeong Jeong, even startled. “Right.” She looks off into the distance, and can’t remember a time when she’s ever been surrounded by this much water. “My name’s Katara, by the way.”

Zuko feels a pang in his chest. “Zuko.”

“Nice to meet you, Zuko,” she whispers, holding her hand out to shake his. It feels warm when he grabs at the dainty thing.

“I hope we meet again. Maybe, in another life, Katara.”

“Really?” For a moment, he hears a twinge of sadness in her voice. It could be his mind or his heart making it up, but he swears he hears it.

“Really.”

Everything was going according to plan. Everything was supposed to go smoothly.

Until they’re both panic-sweating underneath the ship in its cargo hold, trying to come up with a plan to fend off the Coast Guard officers stopping all ships sailing past curfew.

“Do something! Doesn’t the military tell you to do something in this case? Or are you guys just trained in the art of being ugly and having anger issues?”

Zuko wracks his brain. “Why don’t you help me?”

“What happens if I don’t?” Katara angrily mutters.

“You’ll deal with the consequences,” Zuko shrugs, too entirely calm. He was a natural in intense situations, but even he could feel his hands shaking.

“That’s just diet ‘ I hope this bitch dies !’”

“Oops,” Zuko sneers.

Katara huffs. “The fact that men can breathe just doesn’t sit right with my soul.” Katara wants to strangle him.

A lightbulb seemingly goes off in his head. Something Mako said about the non-Fire Nation films and stories was always a fool proof “Get out of jail” card.

“Kiss me,” he says without any uncertainty.

“Are you huffing cactus juice, bitch?”

“Just do it!” Zuko practically screams when he hears the door opening. She presses her lips to his chapped ones, and his hands naturally come to her waist. He’s lost in the feeling of her plush lips, how incredibly soft her body was that he ignores the screams of Coast Guard officers.

“What the fuck was that!” They question Jeong Jeong, who simply shrugs. The officers promptly drop the cargo door in shock.

She slaps his face, his cheek already reddening in mere moments.

“What was that for?” Zuko grumbles, stroking his face.

“You’re a freak!”

He narrows his eyes. “I prefer a ‘you’re welcome,’ but that doesn’t seem to be in your vocabulary.” He felt like his entire body was tingling, but Katara could only focus on the fact he was swiping at his lips with the back of his hand.

“Hey! You should be thanking Rihanna you got a chance to kiss me! If you weren’t so colonized you would realize I am one of the most beautiful women in the world!” Katara petulantly reminds.

“I think it’s because you got diarrhea all over my one of my favorite t-shirts that I am doubting that claim.”

Katara sulks, confident form shrinking. “I forgot to boil the water one time, sue me.”

He can’t stop his laugh from taking over his whole body. He’s about to help her up when he hears, “Open it up again!”

This time, Katara fully pushes him down among the boxes of cargo, straddling his lap, and violently mashes her lips to his.

“Get the fuck up here!” Someone screams. Katara lets up on the kiss so Zuko could peer up at the officers. He feels his ears overheating.

“She’s my fiancé.” He hastily explains, once they were on deck. In between their masks, they stare down at Katara, who bites on her tongue, and puts up an act of a bashful bride-to-be. She holds onto his arm with a vice grip, ducking her head behind his broad shoulders.

“They were going on a romantic sight seeing trip,” Jeong Jeong provides, sweat beating down his back.

Katara nods enthusiastically. “We just couldn’t wait for the wedding to have a little fun .” She grins intenerally at their coughs of discomfort and Zuko’s bewildered gaze.

They check Zuko’s identification card, before nodding in understanding.

“Fine,” one officer bites out. He stares at Katara for a beat too long as though he’s reading her thoughts. It makes her uneasy. “Turn it back, and don’t come out past curfew anymore. They’ve implemented new standards for ships.” Jeong Jeong nods in understanding, and jumps to the helm in no time. But, Zuko could sense the panic vibrating off of Katara.

She turns to see the second ship waiting in the distance, her ticket to freedom a few feet away.

“We’re not done with date night!” She insists, coming out to try to stop the officer. Zuko holds her back, eyes pleading with her. “But—I—there has to be some other way.” She’s shaking like a leaf, even when Zuko throws his blazer over her bare shoulders.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be stuck feeding him heartburn medication like they are tic tacs,” Katara says to no one. She’s pacing nervously around the living room, and Zuko’s trying his best to come up with something to comfort her. His head is in his hands, and he’s since loosened his top knot to let his hair fall.

“Katara, I am only two years older than you,” he gently reminds.

“...And then I heard dentures always smell no matter how hard you clean them.”

“Katara I swear—,”

She gasps. “Oh my god, we have to start thinking of retirement homes.”

Things were supposed to be easy.

A spontaneous house check was something the village’s residents were accustomed to. They gathered outside their homes as soldiers began rifling through their things. Parents simply stood about, discussing the new books they had to buy for their kids for the upcoming semester.

Nothing was entirely out of the blue. Yet, the elusive military captain just had to show up to the front of his house, hand in hand with a blue-eyed girl.

A gun was promptly pointed in her face. “Oh shit. Bitch, not this again.”

“This house was registered for one resident.” General Zhao’s lip curls. “State your name and occupation.”

General Zhao had overheard a certain military director’s son was busted trying to get some punani on the seven seas.

It’s not that he hated Zuko, per say. Their relationship was more of a “ regularly abusing Zuko’s privacy to fulfill a personal agenda because of the bloodthirsty desire for power ” type of thing. Normal things. Maybe , it was influenced by the fact he got wind of Zuko pressuring his higher ups to further investigate his sister’s assasination. He wasn’t entirely sure.

“Look here, I have information that could lead to the arrest of Nicki Minaj. So why don’t you, I don’t know. Let me go ! I promise I’ll tell you everything I know about Ms. Nincki,” she lowly breathes, a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows only making the soldiers around her even more heated.

“Shut the fuck up!” A soldier screams behind her, poking her head with the gun. Katara couldn’t help the whimper that passed her lips. For the first time in her life, she thinks she feels genuine fear.

Zuko pushes past the guards holding him back, throwing them to the ground. Without missing a beat, he takes her hand in his. “Get your fucking gun out of my fiancé’s face!” He roars. Gasps reverberate around the villagers. This was the loudest and longest they’ve ever heard Zuko speak. “She works for the government as part of Division 11,” he explains, letting his voice settle into its usual rasp. Everybody visibly recoils.

A highly secretive sector of the government virtually no one , not even General Zhao had access to. They were agents deployed in different nations, with the goal of collecting information about the culture. It would’ve explained Katara’s Water Tribe accent, and the lack of her identification papers.

General Zhao pushes past Zuko, staring him down and grumbling with his men following behind.

The women of the village instantly make way to collect around Katara. Noses turned up at her like she was shit on a brick. No, they couldn’t give a shit about her. They had rushed into their houses after the announcement, and came back to ply Zuko with trays of food.

“For our handsome Zuko finally getting hitched!” The fake smiles make Katara want to stab herself. She swiftly reaches for Zuko’s hand, much to his confusion, and lays her head on his shoulder.

“Baby, let’s go inside. I’m cold,” she feigns through her teeth. Her puppy dog eyes make him feel like he’s in high school. He numbly nods.

She thinks she hears someone’s grandma calling her a slut.

“Pick your head up king, your hairline is receding,” Katara worries her lip at seeing his current state. She doesn’t think he’s slept all night, and he has papers and maps with highlighter marks and red circles all around him on his bed.

It’s been a few days since his big announcement to the village, and it feels better to be able to get outside. Breathe from the confines from Zuko’s dingy house. Even among the whispers and stares from people, the villagers weren’t all bad. The women sometimes drop by to invite her over to cook with them, and the kids bring her only the nicer rocks they’ve managed to dig through the dirt for.

“I just want to get you home.” He practically grunts. She’s holding a cup of tea for him, and he gulps it down as if it was Rihanna’s boob sweat. “I don’t want you to stay here for even a second longer.”

“Thanks!” Katara sends him a sardonic smile.

Fuck . He always knew how to put his foot in his mouth when he’s around her. “No, uh. Not like that. This place is a hell hole, and I just want you to get back. It’s not safe for you, for anyone here.” She pats his back gently when he starts choking on the tea, trying to get all his words out. He’s so sweet, the way he just quietly tries to draft out a plan while he thinks she’s asleep. She hears him curse whenever a pen snaps with the pressure he applies. With how many times he sighs through the night, she feels guilty.

She’s entirely too comfortable around Zuko, he decides. She lays in bed next to him and he hopes she doesn't notice the way he’s grown warm with her presence. He craves it too much these days. “You know what, the one thing I’ve learned through all of this is that the first thing I’m going to do when I come back is shutting down Chrissy Teigen’s Twitter.”

“Not visit your friends and family?” Zuko asks, amusement dancing across his features.

“That can come second,” Katara asserts.

Life wasn’t completely terrible. Sure, she cries the moment Zuko leaves the house because she’s sure she’s going to die in this shit fuck of place and never get to her money’s worth of her one year HelloFresh subscription. But she has complete faith in Zuko’s abilities.

“It’s like during The Amazing Race Season 17 when those two vegetarian doctors ate a goat’s head to win. I think their names were Kat and Nat.”

“The point?” Zuko tries his best to sound exasperated.

“The point is, I’ll learn how to adapt for the next week or so. I promise, it’s not all that terrible!” Zuko doesn’t trust her uneasy, twitching eyes, but nods all the same.

“Hold my hand, motherfucker!” She beams under the attention of the villagers, most of them scoffing when she does her daily send off routine. When Zuko leaves for work, she is insistent on performing their cute couple duties to piss off old people (her other favorite pastime). “Did you remember to bring your water bottle today, stupid bitch?”

“I think I’d like this more if you asked nicely,” he groused. He likes how small her hand fits in his, but he thinks he’ll boil shoelaces and eat them before he would admit it.

She’s made one friend, at least. Ty Lee, a girl whose parents are trying to marry her off by the next summer. The older women side eyed her just the same, thinking her big ole titties were too big of a distraction among the eligible men in the village.

“It came as a shock to us, we still think Zuko is a robot,” Ty Lee admits over a bowl of beef stew. Katara nearly chokes at the spice level. “It’s too bad you’re marrying a lower ranked officer. I know this guy who’s way up there! You could do so much better . I think his name’s Chan!”

“So, Zuko’s basically a nobody here?”

“Pretty much,” the girl states it like it’s a known fact. “He doesn’t do much, to be honest. But he’s all the old ladies’ favorites because he’s cute and moody . Fuck that, give me communication , you know what I mean?”

Katara could already feel the cogs whirring to life in her brain. “Thanks for letting me know, Ty Lee!” Her chirpy tone has the girl smiling as well. Good, her acting skills haven’t gone rusty. “How come when Zuko makes beef stew, it’s never spicy?” She wipes her nose with a napkin Ty Lee had given her after noticing the impending waterfall of snot.

Ty Lee ponders it for a second. “Sorry, babe. This is the most mild recipe you can make in the Fire Nation. I didn’t realize you couldn't handle it. Maybe he’s just remixing a classic?”

Katara tries to hold back her smile. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Babies are broke,” Katara glares at the child in her lap, who only curls in closer to her.

“Oh my god.” Zuko lets the little boy play with his hair when he wasn’t suffocating Katara’s neck with his other arm.

“They live in your head and your house rent free. And then they have the audacity to stare at you in their weak ass outfits,” she points out. They’re both squeezed together on a sofa barely holding itself together, and forced to watch over the birthday boy.

“Don’t be mad. It’s entirely your fault Chungha’s kid laughed so hard it barfed on you.”

Katara’s exhausted laugh makes Zuko forget his tiredness all the same. “Don’t call the baby an ‘it!’”

Zuko lets the kid bite on his finger, and grabs him from Katara’s hands when he begins tugging on her dress straps. “I still can’t believe you taught Chungha’s daughter to ‘not be the bigger person, and punch a bitch!’ And Chungha still invited you to her son’s party.”

“Talk shit, get hit. Basic stuff.”

He had to admit, coming home and immediately being dragged to a baby’s birthday celebration was not how he saw his night going. Especially after hours of grueling paperwork.

“He’s two ,” Zuko lets out an annoyed huff.

“And what about it, bitch?” Katara growls. She has her hair in a complicated updo, complete with the Fire Nation hair ties he recently picked up for her.

He tries to hide the fact he enjoys this far too much. Domestic things. Things like coming home from work to banter with her. Cooking for Katara while she’s busy socializing with the older wives. He heard from Mako that Katara spends most of her day with the married women. Her plan was to try to move him up the ranks of the military ladder by getting to the lieutenant’s wives first.

When she’s home and finished washing up, she takes his dress shirts as though they were her’s and wears them to bed. After she’s passed out on the sleeping mat in the living room, he makes it a habit to carry her to the mattress in his room.

“My bad back likes the hard floor,” he would insist when she would protest.

He thinks he’s a goner when she even starts trying to make Fire Nation snacks for his lunches. He packs them himself, but somehow misses the minute containers that make their way into his pail. Even if the container somehow always breaks because she forgets to close it properly and he ends the day smelling like fish sauce, he likes it.

He knows he must be fucking crazy, pretending this was all real. Maybe he was delusional and reading too much into her actions. Maybe he was a fucking idiot. But for a moment, it was easy to pretend he’s a few months away from marrying a pretty girl. A pretty girl busy spending the night playing around with babies they could one day have together.

He shakes the thought from his head, physically moving his head to make it permeate even deeper. She was going to be back home, safe and sound soon. It was better not to get attached.

She makes it so fucking hard, though. Especially when she’s wiping away at the creases in his brow before bed. Or asking him through the closed bedroom door to tell her it’s going to be ok, to talk to her until she falls asleep because she likes the sound of his voice.

She’s a stone cold bitch. A bitch that could fight with her Swarovski crystal acrylics, and come out virtually unscathed. Someone needs to explain to her exactly why she was crying like a James Charles fake apology video for being a racist at the sight of Chungha’s kid bouncing about, flinging his boogers in her face.

“Maybe if I pray to Azulon hard enough, you guys could have your own little bundle of joy soon!” Chungha exclaims, holding the baby as tight as she could.

After all, when you almost lose a kid, every moment you’re blessed with their breath never feels like enough. You never want to spend another moment away from them. It’s a miracle his fever broke in time for his birthday. Their family couldn’t afford to go to the doctor, with hospitals being a four hour bike ride away.

“Yeah, sure.” Katara barely could hear her over Yoonjn’s gleeful squeals.

“I’ll tell Bomi to pray for you guys, too. After what Azulon did for her little Sana, you’ll be pregnant in no time!”

Katara just squeezes at the baby’s chubby cheek.

“You’re going to kill yourself.” Katara flinches at Zuko’s voice piercing through the quiet night. He’s leaning up against the wall, and emerges from the shadows because he’s dramatic and needed the added effect. She doesn’t miss the way he limps while clutching his side.

“Shut up .” She throws her straw hat at the ground, and flings herself across the sleeping mat, face down. “I’ve had a long night.”

He wants to be angry with her. He wants to scream at her. He was livid .

“What if you got caught, huh? You could’ve been executed .” Zuko knew it wasn’t a coincidence. That the rumors of a spirit going around healing people in the village coincided with someone’s sudden appearance. He thinks the sight of Katara effortlessly waterbending is permanently etched into his memory. The way her face was blissed out, the element easily submitting to her every will.

Katara knows he’s just worried for her. She knows the occasional rustle of the branches was more than a breeze. But, all she sees is red. “Sounds rich, coming from you ! What’s your name again? Sorry, my bad. I didn’t know ‘The Blue Spirit’ was a silent vowel in the name ‘Zuko!’”

He waits a beat, before turning to face her. She has his mask in hand, an angry glare screwing her features.

“How did you—who did—?” His brain was apparently as smooth as Howie Mandel’s head when he needed its help the most. At least he knows where his mask went.

“My mind is as strong as the Twitter men trying to get Doja Cat to show us her titties.” She rolls her eyes when she sees Zuko pondering. “You leave your Dao swords on display in the living room, and the mask is underneath your bed. I don’t know, let me ask the audience.”

“Oh.”

Katara flicks his forehead.

“At least I’m not walking around with some face paint thinking I’m helping these people!”

She scoffs. “But I am! They’re too sick to afford medication. To even go to the hospital. If they make it, no one wants to help them! You’re telling me I have to just watch them die!”

Zuko sighs. “You’re giving them hope !”

“In this dumpster fire of a place, yeah! I fucking am! What’s wrong with that? Tell me!” She challenges. She comes up nose to nose with Zuko, eyes darting and impatiently waiting for an answer.

“What are these people going to do when you’re gone?” What am I going to do when you’re gone? “They think the Painted Lady is real !”

“Let them!” She huffs. “What about you, huh? Going around stealing from the rich to bring back to the villagers? You think you’re any better? You’re going to get killed!”

Zuko scoffs. “You’re missing the point. The difference between you and me? I’m perfectly fine with dying.”

Katara grabs his face in between her hands, anger vanishing. “Zuko, don’t say that.”

“Why the fuck not? Maybe I want to fucking die!” He shouts, ripping his head out of her grasp. “Maybe I’m hoping to get caught!”

“...Why?” Katara croaks.

“ You don’t get it !” He screams. Time seemed to stop when tears fell from Zuko’s eyes. Even when he’s angry, he’s never been this loud with Katara before. He wants to take it all back, stop himself.

She’s at a loss for words. “Zuko, I—”

“This place is a fucking dead end. No one’s going to save us. The Fire Nation doesn’t care about us. The Fire Nation could give less of a fuck. You can’t let people think there’s hope when it’s all a fucking lie !” He laughs, the bitter sound foreign to her. “You know, it’s normal to pray for an early death here. You pray that it’s painless. It’s easier to die than live every day trapped in this reality.”

He loses his grip on the countertop he was leaning on for support. Katara moves to catch him before he falls, and lays him as gently as possible on top of the mat. She makes quick work to heal the gash at his side. A result of following her during her rounds, and fighting off any robbers trying their luck in the night.

“I thought you were the Kris Jenner of the Southern Water Tribe?” He squeezes out, trying to get her to laugh. She’s touched he remembered her Kardashian-Jenner clan rants. (He’s been Team Stormi since day one.) Then again, he seems to remember every little detail about her. “A businesswoman, right? Didn’t know you were a master waterbender on top of all of that.”

She snorts, and wipes away her own tears before he could open his eyes again. “I was a paramedic. I wanted to run a clinic at one point.” Zuko winces at the intensity of the water cooling his wound. “Growing up, I hated the business world. It was all backstabbing and boring bitches. But sometimes, it’s easier.” She’s silent for a while, focused only on the healing process.

“I—I couldn’t save a lot of people,” her voice drops down to a barely audible whisper, and her brows furrow.

They’re shoulder to shoulder on the mat after she wraps up his cut. They’re staring up at the cracks of his ceiling.

“Do you ever miss it?” Zuko rasps.

“Bending?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes.” She lets silence fill the air for a moment. “ It’s second nature to me. Fuck, I was bending before I could even talk. Is it bad that I gave up on it? Is it bad it makes me sick to my stomach?”

Something she loved, she couldn’t stand to do again.

She couldn’t save her mom. She couldn’t save her niece. What was the point anymore?

He wraps his hand around hers.

“What do you think we would have been like, in another life?” Zuko groans, laying down beside Katara. She’s sprawled out, still taking in heavy breaths after breaking into an intense run. His side still aches. He thinks his arm is broken from fighting off the soldiers while carrying the dozens of survivors.

The captain in a nearby village was sentenced to a public execution later in the week. He wanted to go out on his own terms and take his village with him, too. Trying to sacrifice people to the Gods above for forgiveness, he set the place ablaze.

It’s too bad The Painted Lady got wind of it first.

“Hm?” Katara hums, healing a cut on her face. “I’d like to think Katara in another life got to be normal. Like just owning a Chevy and living life without ever having to acknowledge Timothee Chalamat’s existence type of normal. She’s happy. She doesn’t develop an addiction to Prozac. She probably has a small white dog named Mochi that can fit into a knock-off Fendi purse.”

“Really? No butt-warming toilets in her life?”

“Nah. She could be the Mayor of Boo Boo the Foolville without any consequences.” She can’t recall a time when she’s felt so free. When her words flow out without carefully being measured. The stars feel like daylight. The expanses of the village’s nearby river tugging at her heart strings. “She could bend without constantly thinking of what could’ve been.”

“Zuko in another life would’ve been a piano player.” It still stings. Thinking about the future that could’ve been.

“Not a full time Blue Spirit?” She teases.

“Full time Blue Spirit doesn’t pay the bills, surprisingly.”

He turns his head and sees her nose crinkle. He’s sure it should be illegal for someone to be this beautiful.

“This kid I healed, he made his own Blue Spirit costume. He’s been wearing it every day, and treated it like it’s this season’s Versace,” Katara murmurs. He laughs, loud and unbridled.

“Yeah? I saw a bunch of little girls with their Painted Lady dolls.” They were holding onto them until their knuckles turned white, even with Zuko dangling them from his shoulders.

Katara’s heart swells. “I think I’m going to cry.”

Zuko nudges her shoulder with his when he hears her mock-sniffles.

“Did you know I told this guy ‘it’s time to evacuate!’ while he was mid-masturbation.”

Katara’s stomach is starting to hurt with how hard she’s squealing. “You’re lying ! Please, say sike!”

Zuko throws his hands up. “I couldn’t make this up even if I tried. He was all like, ‘You mean time to ejaculate!’” Zuko finishes the story in a dude-bro voice.

At this point, Katara was shaking uncontrollably, and it’s infectious. He can’t help laughing, too.

A beat of silence passes between the duo, too distracted by the night sky.

Zuko rubs a hand over his face, determined to stay awake to see her fall asleep.

“What would Zuko and Katara have been in another life?” Katara whispers wistfully.

He glances over to her, eyes heavy. “I think being us would have been easier, in another life.” Her light snores fill the air. “At least then, I could be by your side.”

He nudges her head until it fits securely in the crook of his shoulder.

“Sit there and look pretty!”

“No!”

“All I’m asking you to do is sit and blink!” Katara had run into a kid with a smuggled polaroid camera trying to snap photos of her. In return for not slicing open his urethra with a dull butter knife, she was trying to force him to take photos of Zuko. After all, she wanted a memento of her time with him.

The teen was nervously glanced between the two, the camera shaking in his grasp.

“I think I’m going to go find my mom…”

“Pussy bitch!” Katara screams at the running boy.

“Old ass hoe!” He yelps back.

Zuko knew it was a mistake taking Katara to the night market. As a celebration of the Mid-Autumn Festival, curfews were relaxed. The marketplace opened up to sell street food into the night. There’s singing, dancing, laughing, drinking. A night to forget, a night meant for happiness.

He thinks it’s ridiculous. The way she doesn’t notice the way guys look at her. He’s spent the better part of the night standing in front of her if any man was brave enough to glance in her general direction. At night, she was in her element, her smile was a blinding thing that made his heart race. She doesn’t pay any mind to anyone staring, to anyone trying to get her attention. She’s just taking in the little moments around her, eyes so bright and stares so wide. Like she’s afraid to miss a single detail with just a blink.

“Your breath smells like stupid bitch,” Katara points out after what had to be his 20th grunt of the night. She’s sure he’s holding her close to make sure they still played a newly engaged couple. She relishes in the attention all the same.

“Sorry.” He sulks like a child, and it makes Katara want to hug him.

She pecks his cheek and he freezes. “Look! He bought his girlfriend that potato on a stick thing!”

Zuko rushes off without any hesitation.

He picks the fire flakes off the potato slices before handing it to her. She practically inhales the snack, and he frets. He thinks she’s about to stab herself with the skewer. “Oh look!” She points to another couple, while pouting. “He won her a stuffed dragon.”

Zuko couldn’t stand to see her upset, even for a second.

When she’s hugging the plushie close to her, Zuko throws his arm around her. She stops in her tracks. “Oh my god! Is that ice cream—” He runs to find the vendor without even thinking.

“Number 43!” The vendor yelps. Zuko instantly recognizes the greasy teenager picking up the order in front of him.

“Give me the photos you took of my fiancé,” he says, panting. He practically ran at lightning speed to catch up to the kid, who intentionally rushed off after feeling Zuko glaring him down from a distance. The boy feels his bladder shaking.

“But—but you didn’t want a photo! You—” Zuko’s best menacing scowl had the kid scrambling through his pockets. “She could do better, you know!” He petulantly points out, before throwing the photo in the air and taking off.

Zuko lets himself smile after tucking Katara’s picture safely into his wallet. He knew he told himself he wouldn’t get attached. Not his fault she’s cast him under her spell.

He’s pouting. She’s struggling not to laugh in his face.

“This is mine, now.” He indignantly rips the toy of her hold, squishing it to his chest instead.

“Why?” she questions.

“If you want one so bad, ask Chan to win you one.” She straight up guffaws in his face. Zuko had caught Chan hugging her out of excitement. Ty Lee finally agreed to a date with him, all thanks to Katara meddling.

“I can’t believe you’d cheat on me!” Zuko scowls. He’s more cute than terrifying, and Katara just rolls her eyes. “I thought I was the only one you call ‘babe!’” He tries protesting.

Katara snorts. “That was short for ‘beyblade.’ Let it rip, motherfucker!”

“Am I not a good husband-to-be? Is that what it is? Do you feel neglected, babe ?” He’s just fucking with her at this point, his childish pout threatening to bleed into a full blown laugh. He’s biking them back home, with Katara seated at the front on only a towel. She misses her Tesla.

“For starters, your toes look like gorilla knuckles. They look like they could wrap completely around a baseball.”

“Hey!”

“Be honest. Has anyone ever sucked your toes until you creamed yourself?” Katara’s favorite pastime is making Zuko blush.

She turns back to him to see his reddening face. “Oh my god! Look at how cute you are! I think my stomach has the butterflies!” Zuko just grows positively crimson at her mocking tone. He’ll blame the warming weather, though.

“Kill them. I won’t treat you right,” Zuko murmurs. Katara just swats at his head. “Didn’t I shoot at you? Love yourself, Katara.”

Once they reach his house, she jumps off the bicycle, and grabs Zuko by the shoulders. “Hey.”

“What?” He can’t help being mesmerized by her eyes.

“I think I’ll miss you,” Katara breathes.

“You have to leave first for you to miss me.” Zuko wraps her up in a tight hug.

He feels selfish when he wishes moments with Katara could last a lifetime.

#zutara fanfiction #zutara #zuko x katara #zutara month #zutara month 2020 #may 13 #hidden #zutara month part two

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thanksjro · 4 years

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Last Stand of the Wreckers, Issue #4: This Series is Awash With Lippy Sons of Guns

Issue #4 starts off with an uncomfortably handsome Prowl. I mean honestly, look at this asshole, he’s simply too pretty.

I don’t think Roche has ever drawn the guy ugly, but this is on another level.

We’re in a flashback sequence here, as we start to gain an understanding of just why exactly Ironfist got put on the Wreckers in the first place. Back when he was working at Kimia, Ironfist got a call from Prowl. Seems Prowl’s read his work, and is impressed by the sheer amount of effort he’s put into it. They chat a bit about it, but no call with Prowl is ever casual, and he asks Ironfist if he’s ever been interested in actually being a Wrecker. Which, of course he has, but he’d never exactly been cut out for that kind of work, especially after his Accident™. Prowl has a little push in that area, because he’s Prowl, and makes a deal; Ironfist joins the Wreckers as a weapon expert, and in exchange he does something for Prowl.

We won’t find out what exactly Ironfist’s agreed to do until later, as we jump back to the present, where the Guzzle and Kup are about to lay the smackdown on some unsuspecting Decepticons.

With how many cameras are currently trained on you guys, I can’t say you really have the time for wisecracks, old-timer.

That big vault door behind them leads to the cell of one of the most notorious Autobots ever to grace the galaxy- Grimlock. This is the “help” Springer requested they find, meaning that he’s a sort of last resort, which tells you just how much of a powerhouse the guy is. Volatile, sure, but a powerhouse regardless.

Too bad the cell’s empty.

Snare steps in to explain just why that is, having snuck up on our Big Gulp duo.

Well I’m sure that won’t be a plot point later on.

Of course, Guzzle doesn’t really feel inclined to believe a word of what this Getaway kitbash says, and starts threatening to shoot him. Snare however, has even more secrets to tell.

Perceptor and pals have finally discovered just what the hell it is that they’ve been looking for all this time. Aequitas is a supercomputer, and a massive one at that. They’re here to download its memory files. Topspin is less than pleased with this whole thing.

Ironfist agrees- there’s no way they’re going to be able to get all the data in Aequitas downloaded before the Decepticons get through to them and tear them to pieces. Verity, however, is more concerned about the size of the computer itself.

A large part of Aequitas is made up of something called a culpability drive, which breaks down factors like motivation and accountability into a streamlined equation so it can do something completely ridiculous: calculate guilt. Yes, someone had the bright idea to break down guilt into a binary system, without any “human” element involved. Because that couldn’t possibly backfire.

Then the narrative catches up to Topspin, and Ironfist and Verity get put on babysitting duty while he deals with his phantom pain. Pyro’s made to help Perceptor with booting up the computer.

Over with Springer, he and Impactor have a little heart-to-heart, while Twin Twist is passed out with a shadow over his face, probably waiting for the horrific reveal of what the dentist’s done to him. Springer feels really bad about Impactor having been sent to Garrus-9; he’d figured that after the trial, Impactor had been sent to rehab, or at least a prison that wasn’t quite as torturey.

Impactor points out that Springer’s testimony at Aequitas was pretty damning, and I’m starting to wonder why Springer didn’t see this coming. Unless they somehow managed to move that massive friggin’ supercomputer in the last few years, Impactor’s trial happened on Garrus-9. Kind of seems like a foregone conclusion that anyone who got put through the Aequitas wringer would end up staying if found guilty.

Impactor still doesn’t think that what he did was wrong, and the only reason they stop verbally duking it out is because Twin Twist does his dramatic face reveal and the dentist comes back in to finish off those fillings.

Funny, they had a similar setup at my old orthodontist’s.

As the dentist prepares to turn what’s left of Twin Twist’s face into the “Lust” scene from Se7en, we get back to the real point of this whole miniseries: fanwanking. Ironfist is telling Verity about the Decepticon’s answer to the Wreckers- Squadron X.

This group is made up entirely of characters who only existed in the Marvel UK comics, and even then only barely. This is convenient on multiple levels; it allows the Wreckers to have an antithesis to their own group that won’t disrupt any of the ongoing storylines outside of Last Stand of the Wreckers. Nobody’s really vying to use the guy who beat up a piano and then got thrown out of a bar, now are they?

It also allows you to use an already-established character that still has plenty of wiggle room for story application. No point in trying to make a new set of characters when we’ve got a bin full of nobodies off in the corner. Especially when we’re only going to have these guys around for a few minutes.

But we’ll get to that later.

Back to Ironfist’s story…

Oh hey Whirl.

Springer’s in a bit of a pickle- his lower half is trapped under a busted barricade, and Squadron X is closing in. Impactor has no intention of leaving Springer behind, so it’s time to get crazy. Springer tells Impactor to blast a hole through his TORSO so he can surprise-attack the approaching enemy. Impactor does so, reluctantly.

Please note that the emphasis is not mine, but the narrative’s.

That’s just a cool panel.

Once all that’s over and done with, Squadron X are all put into inhibitor harnesses to keep them from trying anything funny while in custody. But oh ho, what’s this? They’ve escaped! And they’ve ripped Sandstorm’s arm off! Surely, this must be dealt with, and who better suited for the job than the dude who’s been obsessed with taking these guys out for years now? Impactor gets to work.

And thus the day is saved, thanks to the Wreckers! Yaaay!

With Ironfist’s story concluded, Perceptor takes the time to mention that they’ve got a problem. Turns out Aequitas has some state-of-the-art security measures going on- in order to even turn the thing on, someone’s got to feed the thing their spark. You know, a robot soul. This thing runs on souls, and the donator has to be a willing participant otherwise it won’t work.

Well that’s awful convenient for you, now ain’t it, Percy?

I’m assuming they just never turned the thing off during the trials, otherwise they would have run out of juice very quickly.

So it’s slim pickings in terms of sparks. Perceptor’s playing IT, Topspin’s whole spark situation is a consent minefield, and Verity’s soul is the normal, human, intangible kind. And now we get to the part of our story that’s a little sad.

Pyro and Ironfist aren’t popular. They’ve never been in the spotlight. They aren’t important. They were brought on the Wreckers to die, plain and simple, because it’s a game of numbers, and their numbers are miles below the likes of Springer and Kup.

Pyro isn’t on-board with this at all, saying that this isn’t how it’s supposed to go down for him.

Say what you will about his delusions of grandeur, but this is a guy who knows what he wants.

While Pyro’s dreaming big, Topspin’s having a really bad time in the background. That vicarious perception’s hitting real hard right now.

Ironfist plays the child in a bitter divorce between Pyro and Verity as they argue over who the hell should die so the plot can keep moving. Ironfist has a lot to say, a lot that he really should say, but he doesn’t. He’s not proud of himself, or the things he’s done as a weapons’ expert. After reflecting on his life- a life that hasn’t been profoundly wondrous or meaningful- he concedes to being the one to die.

But that doesn’t happen, because Topspin takes matters into his own hands and puts the goddamn dog to sleep. The dog in this case being himself and Twin Twist. Aequitas thanks him for his donation, sucks out his spark, and over in the torture chamber Twin Twist explodes.

With the twins(?) dead, Aequitas is online, and not a moment too soon, because those Decepticons are starting to bring the door down. Perceptor hands a headphone jack to Ironfist, tells him to plug it into his brain, and to get ready for the hurt, because they’re about to download the entirety of this supercomputer into his head.

Back with Impactor, he’s about to get his cornea scratched, when Guzzle and Kup come to save the day, following Snare’s guidance.

I just want to say, Guzzle wins the Worst Crotch award. It’s simply awful.

So Kup and Guzzle free Springer and Impactor, just in time for Springer to revenge-stab the dentist with the torture stick. Too bad he’s already shot Snare.

Play… makes you free... in the prison that’s been turned into basically a death camp. Is… are we really doing the Holocaust parallels again? God, I hope I’m reading too much into that, I really do.

We finally find out what the prize for winning the Pit fights is: you can either fight Overlord, or kill yourself. Not much of a prize, if you ask me.

Speaking of the Blue Terror, he’s on his way over. Snare asks that Impactor just kill him, because there’s no way he’s going to risk being found out by Overlord that he was being sneaky. Impactor obliges, crushing his brain module between his fingers.

Then Overlord quite literally explodes into the room.

Back over in the Aequitas chamber, Ironfist’s just finished with his upload, and he’s shaken by what he now knows. The Decepticons have nearly broken down the door at this point, and there’s only one way to save themselves- they have to detonate the prisoners’ deterrence chips. This, of course, includes Impactor. Perceptor’s all for it, but Pyro’s wholly against the idea. Verity tries to put in her vote, but humans don’t have rights in the eyes of Wrecker law, so it all comes down to Ironfist.

You heard the man, let’s kill the purple guy.

#transformers #jro #last stand of the wreckers #issue 4 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing #wreckers trilogy

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iamwhelmed · 5 years

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Willpower

Wow, first DOA fanfic in YEEAARRS. This time it’s about my favorite girl, my waifu Lei Fang. She’s been my role model since I was super small and playing Dead or Alive 3, and not surprisingly-- I’ve always shipped her with Jann Lee. Tough guy, professional asshole, the one who never looks her way when goddammit Jann Lee the love of your life is right fucking there just TALK TO HER. Anyway... I’ve been meaning to write something for years, but I’ve always been scared I didn’t have as good a grasp on the story as I thought I did lmao

Summary: Lei Fang’s dress was white, and long, and gorgeous-- and the slit up her leg was ripped in three different directions. Her eyes were worse, dead, empty, staring into nothing as she sipped a glass of straight whiskey. There was a feeling Hitomi had, one she hadn’t felt in a long time, a bad feeling, like the last breath of air before you went underwater to drown. Something had changed, something was going to change. Hitomi wasn’t sure she’d like it.

Jann Lee breaks Lei Fang's heart, and Hitomi is here to witness her coming back together again.

Read it on AO3

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She'd known Lei Fang for awhile now, about three years. Maybe more. Hitomi liked to think they were best friends, closest confidants- rivals. She liked to think they knew each other better than anyone else, that their traded secrets (harbored loves burdened by circumstance) and months spent training and movie nights with popcorn and ice cream- she liked to think they amounted to an understanding unrivaled by anyone they'd known before.

Despite all this, she'd never seen Lei Fang cry.

Lei Fang, who was as fiery and determined as she was stubborn, who got kicked down and rejected again and again for close to a decade and only took it as a challenge, she'd been embarrassed but never sad. Never discouraged. Never heartbroken. Hitomi knew what heartbreak was, felt it every time she saw auburn hair and stern eyes that still felt as warm as strong arms over her shoulders. She knew what it felt like to wonder if he felt the same way, and more than anything, she knew when it got too much and she had to shed her tears and mourn a love she feared would never be. It didn't happen often, only once in awhile, but occasionally. When Hayate smiled at her, when she was rarely reminded that he'd spent more time away than he'd spent at the dojo with her, she'd cry. She was silent for the most part, dug the heels of her hands into her eyes and let it out as she curled into herself on her couch, let the TV blare and block it all out as she remembered slowly but surely how to breath.

Lei Fang had seen it once, showed up at her front door at the wrong time. Hitomi hoped it hadn't been obvious, that she'd smiled enough and that her voice didn't crack, but Lei Fang saw her eyes (and the shameful red rim of her waterline). Anyone else might have asked her if she'd been watching a sad movie, or gotten bad news. Lei Fang? Lei Fang took one look at her, grit her teeth, and said: "Where'd the bastard go? Where is he?" Hitomi had wanted to laugh, but she let out a sob and rubbed at her sore eyes and said: "Busy. He's busy."

Lei Fang told her that no man worth her time would ever be too busy for her. Hitomi guessed she was right, but they both knew these strings around their hearts were far from snapping, despite how sternly they may be strung.

But Lei Fang never cried, not in front of her at least. She just got angry. She punched down walls, kicked over columns. She trained harder than any one person should be physically able to handle. She came back harder and stronger and it still never seemed to be enough. It was a cycle, one she resonated with, respected, and kind of grieved. But she and Lei Fang did it every year now. They went and trained and sparred, and eventually parted ways to go kick some butt in the tournament. Except neither of them ever won, for varying reasons. It happened. They'd win it next time. That's what she figured when she met Lei Fang at the bar a few weeks after the sixth tournament. They were going to have a few drinks, lament their losses, Lei Fang would smack talk Jann Lee, Hitomi would laugh, and they'd get on with the next year.

Lei Fang's dress was white, and long, and gorgeous- and the slit up her leg was ripped in three different directions. Her eyes were worse, dead, empty, staring into nothing as she sipped a glass of straight whiskey. There was a feeling Hitomi had, one she hadn't felt in a long time, a bad feeling, like the last breath of air before you went underwater to drown. Something had changed, something was going to change. Hitomi wasn't sure she'd like it.

"Hey, what's up?" She tried to keep her voice a level up, cheery, normal.

Lei Fang glanced at her from the side, gave her a small smile with a busted lip, and what she could now see was a budding bruise at the bone of her cheek. "You made it."

"Of course!" She made a show of glancing over her face, and skimming over the dirtied, mussed stains of her dress. One of her shoes' heels was snapped. The other strap around the ankle had torn in two. She resisted the urge to let out a low whistle. That jerk had done a number on her this time. "So, should I see the other guy?"

Lei Fang snorted and tipped her glass back, finishing the rest in two, three gulps. She set the glass down and the bartender filled it as soon as it hit the wood, and Hitomi was starting to get the impression that she hadn't walked in on her first drink. "Yeah, I gave him a few good shiners. Maybe that smug face of his will have a broken nose tomorrow."

"Mmm."

The bartender welcomed her, took her card for a tab and filled her glass with a colorful cocktail.

"Did you beat him again?"

"No."

Lei Fang's vacant eyes followed the (second? third? more?) whiskey and round ice as it did laps around the rim, her blue and purple wrist looking worse for wear every second. Hitomi took a hesitant sip of her pink fruity drink and waited.

The silence was deafening and stale. She wasn't used to quiet around Lei Fang. She glanced around the bar where other Dead or Alive contestants had gathered in the distance. She supposed Lei Fang had decided to sit in the farthest place she could. She found no eyes wandering in their direction, but gathered from Tina's shift in their direction and Helena's far-off eye that they were listening. She'd have to keep her voice low.

"I guess I got what I wanted."

"Huh?"

Lei Fang chuckled, smile usually so sly and taunting now sardonic as she stared down the shelves of the bar. Her eyes were still hollow, but Hitomi could see a glaze in the bar light's reflection. "I never wanted something normal. Dinner dates, flowers, romantic birthdays alone… I never wanted any of that. It's boring." She wasn't sure if Lei Fang was talking to her or simply lamenting, so she didn't say anything, just gripped her drink and held it to her like a lifeline. "Never will have any of that, will I?" Lei Fang exhaled, and she couldn't tell if she was laughing or sighing. She watched as Lei Fang's nimble fingers clutched at the bar glass, noticed with growing concern that her hand was trembling.

"Lei Fang?"

"How stupid…" Something snapped. Barren eyes filled with tears that fell in rhythm. That smile, that sarcastic, humorless smile twisted into something bitter, something that Hitomi realized with a starting realization… was heartbreak.

She set her drink on the bar and leaped into Lei Fang, pulling her into her arms and squeezing her as a warning that she wasn't letting go. Lei Fang, who she knew all this time was a warrior, who was a powerhouse and an untoward partition, didn't even put up a fight. She went limp in her arms, weeping openly as she dug her head into her chest and pressed her fists to either side, wept like she'd forgotten to for years. She shook and trembled and whimpered, and she mumbled over and over again as though the realization continued to occur to her. "I'm so stupid!" He doesn't even see me. I'm nothing to him. She heard every word Lei Fang couldn't say, set her chin on her head and fought her own tears because she needed to be the strong one right now.

She glanced up to see if anyone was looking. Helena was burying her head in her pool game with Bass, Tina had turned her back to them completely. If anybody else was paying attention, they weren't letting on about it. Eliot turned to glance over at them, concern filling his big expressive eyes, but Brad Wong wrapped an arm around him and tugged him tight into his chest. Hitomi closed her eyes and buried her head in Lei Fang's hair.

"I know," she hushed, "I know."

Lei Fang had a date. A real, honest-to-god date. His name was Chao Li, and he was the wealthy son of one of her father's friends. He looked handsome in the magazine pictures Lei Fang brought to show her, and according to his father, he'd become particularly well-versed in the art of bowling as a hobby. She'd caught his eye at a charity event in Hong Kong. She said yes when he sent a massive card (roughly her height and maybe her weight) and a wheelbarrow of peonies, orchids, and lotus blossoms. Hitomi was happy for her, because she deserved to be admired and sought after, and just a tiny part of her was smug that she'd bagged such an amazing guy. She mentioned it to Tina in passing one day when they ran into each other at the beach. Tina laughed and whistled and said: "That's what she needs to do. Light a fire under his ass!" She didn't need to ask who Tina meant. They both knew.

Lei Fang came back a few weeks later as they met up for brunch at the pretty cafe near Hitmoi's house, told her Chao Li was just as hot in person as he was on paper. He'd brought her to see a famous ballet, then took her on a romantic boat ride under the blossoming cherry trees and stars. He'd held her hand and told her that he'd never seen a woman so strong and fascinating. He'd said there wasn't a woman like her. Hitomi agreed, and giggled through the whole story. She just couldn't help but notice that Lei Fang's smile didn't reach her eyes.

Lei Fang continued dating Chao Li, though they hadn't gone as far as claiming "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" status. She had a feeling Lei Fang didn't want to put a label on it. That was too normal, too mundane. If Chao Li had a problem with it, Lei Fang hadn't told her. Time passed, a few months went by, the seventh Dead or Alive tournament would begin soon. She worried Lei Fang would pull out, but she was more than happy to start training again. Chao Li insisted that she compete, told her "you have a talent, what use is it to hide you away from the world?" He wouldn't hide her beauty from his colleagues, he certainly wouldn't hide her strength. Hitomi had cooed and told Lei Fang how perfect he was for her, and Lei Fang agreed- but she wouldn't look her in the eyes.

As usual, she and Lei Fang trained and sparred and gave each other pointers, and they grew stronger and better with each day. It felt like there was something missing, though, and it didn't occur to her until Zack was popping up in a helicopter with DOA invitations that they hadn't once mentioned the elephant in the room, the foe she and Lei Fang would undoubtedly face. As she and Lei Fang hopped into the helicopter, something cold and heavy and wet sunk into the pit of her stomach. Dread.

As usual, she and Lei Fang passed the first stages of the tournament with no competition. Wins came easy, and the same people who made it to the quarter finals last year made it to this year too. Mila, Eliot, Diego, Tina, Bass, Kokoro, Rig… Jann Lee. She had yet to mention his name to Lei Fang, not because she was purposely avoiding it but, uh… okay maybe she was a little. But every time they saw the leaderboards, saw his face plastered on the screen by Diego's, she couldn't help but hold her breath; Lei Fang was trying not to notice. Chao Li had been in the audience for every single round, cheered with the crowd and was there when Lei Fang won to welcome her into his arms. So sure enough he hung around them when they chilled out at the bar.

Tina whistled low as she checked him out, said, and I quote: "Damn Lei Fang, got yourself a slick and thick piece of meat!" Lei Fang rolled her eyes and Mila busted into gut-wrenching laughter. Zack pounced and gave the guy a warm welcome, and Brad Wong raised his glass in greeting. The three of them eventually took a seat at the table with Mila and Tina, who were teasing Eliot across the way for being adorable. He got flustered, and mad, but Brad Wong's laughter settled him from doing anything he'd regret. A few hours flew by with laughter and drinks, and Lei Fang was a little tipsy, and Hitomi might have been too. Rig had walked in, sat down, and ordered an Old Fashioned at some point, and Helena had clocked out early into the night. Drunk Lei Fang picked fights with Bass and Drunk Hitomi laughed as it happened. Sober(er) Chao Li tried his best to smooth things over with Bass by stroking his ego. Hitomi was vaguely aware that her sides were killing her and that she'd well run out of air to expunge in fits of hysteria, but the laughter had merely turned to breathless heaves. Bass himself seemed almost amused, watching as Chao Li made his very best efforts toward keeping Lei Fang's hind in her chair.

Hitomi hoped that Jann Lee walking into the bar wouldn't ruin the mood, and it didn't. She, like Lei Fang, seemed to be the only one to notice him walking in. There were greetings, some from Kokoro, some from the bartender, but Lei Fang stayed silent, choosing instead to lean her weight into Chao Li's side. He seemed surprised, if not pleased, oblivious to the sudden departure of the cheery girl he'd known all this time. He wrapped an arm over her shoulders and smiled to himself. Hitomi glanced at Jann Lee to see if he'd noticed them, but the man had set his eyes on Rig and looked ready to spar. Hitomi snorted to herself. Of course he would. She hated to pity Lei Fang, knew she'd never want that, but it was hard not to when even she could say her affections were… recognized. At the very least, Hayate was never anything but kind to her. Jann Lee never seemed to not have a Kung Fu stick up his- Hitomi exhaled through her nose.

Instead of starting a fight, Jann Lee ordered a drink, sat silently a few stools away from Rig and stayed there, staring into nothing. Good, Hitomi thought, he can stay over there. She wasn't sure where Lei Fang sat on fighting Jann Lee again, but she had a feeling she wasn't likely to spring for a sparring match. She had her head buried in Chao Li's shoulder and abandoned her drink on the table. He leaned his head on hers, whispering into her hair. "Are you tired?" Lei Fang shook her head, and he pressed a kiss to her hair. "Would you like to head back?" Hitomi felt her heart pop watching them, though the grossed-out or embarrassed murmurs of the younger contestants might have made her giggle. Bass nearly lamented on his relationship with Tina's late mother, much to Tina's mortified disbelief.

Lei Fang raised her head so that her chin set on his shoulder, and she pouted. "You don't have to baby me, I can finish my drink at least." Chao Li grinned and leaned forward, pressing- much to Hitomi's stunned silence- a gentle kiss to her lips. Lei Fang didn't seem to kiss back, but she didn't resist either. She closed her eyes and pouted some more when he drew away. Kokoro's and Elito's faces turned red at the public display, while Tina and Mila and Zack couldn't seem less bothered by it. "Geez, I haven't had that much!"

"Of course not," He smirked and pulled away, standing with his empty bottle in hand. "I'm getting another beer, then. Anyone want anything? On me."

A few people cheered and raised their glasses to another round, and Chao Li graciously took to the bar. Lei Fang met Hitomi's eyes as she readjusted to sit up straight, and met Hitomi's small smile with an even smaller one.

They weren't expecting the crash that came from the bar. Hitomi whipped around to see Rig, lightly pushing Chao Li's half-limp body off of his own, glaring daggers at Jann Lee who, much to Hitomi's surprise, stood barring one raised fist. Chao Li clutched his cheek in one hand steadied himself with the other, nearly tripping on the toppled barstool as he climbed off of Rig's lap, looking for all the world like a scared child, filled with disbelief. Rig mumbled something along the lines of "Was that really necessary?"

Hitomi took a chance glance at Lei Fang and found that she had also heard the commotion, and was readily alert. Her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides, raring to fight, but the look on her face said that she was too shocked to move.

Chao Li scrambled to stand, backing away from Jann Lee slowly, cautiously. Jann Lee scoffed, turned to Lei Fang and nodded to her recoiling lover. "This is who you choose, Lei Fang?" Her mouth opened, but she said nothing. The entire bar had turned to watch whatever the hell had begun unfolding, and Hitomi herself found the scene too disastrous to turn away from. A car-wreck in slow motion. Jann Lee ran a thumb over his top lip, brushing away sweat that wasn't even there as he turned to face her. "You choose a coward who could never defend you?"

"I'm perfectly capable of defending myself!" Lei Fang's voice trembled despite the insistence in her tone. Jann Lee said nothing.

Instead he raised his glass, finished the last drop, and left the bar without so much as a second glance. Chao Li went home that night, and neither Hitomi nor Lei Fang blamed him, but he'd proven Jann Lee right. More than anything, Hitomi knew, that was what would irritate Lei Fang the most.

Lei Fang began training harder than she'd ever seen her train before. More viscous. Unending. She was up before Hitomi was and last to fall asleep. She was constantly challenging other contestants to spar, and winning every time. Hitomi was impressed, if not a little concerned. They sparred one last time before the quarter finals and wished each other luck.

Once again, like every tournament before, Lei Fang went up against Jann Lee.

She was all fierce, no serenity, little grace, only anger. Hitomi watched from one of the upper wings and silently cheered on her friend, hoping against all hope that this is the one time she wins in the ring, because Jann Lee needed to be brought down a peg.

The two went back and forth, exchanging blow after blow, going round in circles with kicks that broke or sprained wrists and punches that made the audience wince. Hitomi herself found her fists squeezing the guarding pole tight enough that it sunk it under her nails. She'd never been so nervous for a fight she wasn't partaking in before.

"Hitomi."

She gasped, twisting around to find her own internal struggle staring her in the face, warm eyes lighting up over a smile as hot as the sun itself, she swore it felt like it anyway. Her cheeks heated against every unwilling bone in her body. "Ei-Hayate!"

He approached the rail to stand at her side, watching with crossed arms as Jann Lee and Lei Fang exchanged bone-breaking blow after blow. Hitomi, though still nervous, shy even, returned to her original position. Hayate tilted his head. "Jann Lee's going to win."

Hitomi blanched. "Don't be so sure! Lei Fang has been training really hard the last few days!"

"Train as she might, there is no surpassing his will."

"She's got a pretty strong will too." She smiled, thought about fights over a cabbage and hot volleyball matches that left dents in the sand. Yes, Lei Fang had a will unlike many she'd ever known. If there was any girl out there who could beat Jann Lee into submission, it was her, and in the face of recent failings, she still believed she would. "I believe in her."

She felt his eyes glancing her up and down. "Some things are stronger than will to defeat the undefeatable."

"Like?"

Hayate turned back to the match, as though he hadn't been skimming over the bare skin between her shirt and pants or the shine in her eyes (a color he'd still dream about to this day, and wake feeling more complete). "The will to love."

She'd been so close, she was sure of it. Just one more well-timed throw, one more blocked fist, and the fight would have been hers. But she'd been too slow, or maybe too focused on hurting him when she should have focused on avoiding him. Thus was the story of her life, she supposed. One knock to the stomach and she was flat on her hind end, wincing as she skidded to the floor and hit the back of her head. Ouch, that was gonna hurt in the morning, not as much as her pride would, though.

Lei Fang winced, raised one hand to the back of her aching skull and glared up at Jann Lee's approaching figure in the too-bright lights of the DOA ring. What a jerk, she grinded in her head. What an absolute ass. She hated him, hated him more than anyone she'd ever had a mind to hate before. She hated him for his arrogance and his smugness, hated him for how cold he was, how he couldn't seem to ever let her win, in or out of the ring. She hated how he'd taken so many years from her, how she finally thought she was done and he riled her up and pulled her right back in. She hated that he'd never give her what she wanted, but he was more than happy to keep her trying. Tears, frustrated, hurt, angry, helpless- they burned at the corners of her eyes like firecrackers but she refused to let them spring to life. She would not cry in front of him. She'd wasted enough tears on a man who would never earn them, and a man who would never care to. She bared her teeth and cupped her bruised and swelling cheek, hissing at him and hoping he saw the hatred in her eyes, because he'd never seen anything else in them before. Lei Fang leveled her breathing as Jann Lee approached, looking down at her with the same infuriating stare the egged her to get up. She wanted to- boy, did she want to- but she was done. She shouldn't have wasted this tournament getting ready to fight him, shouldn't have wasted years trying to get him to acknowledge her.

"Do you see now, Lei Fang?"

"See what?" She spat the words out, like blood in her mouth. Jann Lee cocked his head, once again scoffed at her. How she hated that.

Then he surprised her in the next moment by offering his hand. She glanced at the outstretched arm, then trailed it back up to his cold, calculating face. She must have looked confused, because he carried on. "There is no other man on this planet who can protect you. Wasting your time is foolish." She reached to touch his hand, but paused at the last minute, still feeling for all the world like he'd given her a concussion, knocked her into a coma. He must have. He closed the distance and captured her hand in his own, pulling her up with such strength that she felt the air leave her chest.

Lei Fang found herself face-to-face with Jann Lee, chests inches apart, though he'd released her hand. She glanced from her hands, clasped at her chest, to his face, finding it harder with each passing second to look at him. But she would, because she was Lei Fang, and he was Jann Lee, and he'd never settle for anything less. She should have figured, should have guessed. His eyes bore into hers and never left, the equivalent to burning her fluttering eyelids right off.

A few meters away, Hitomi's jaw was dropping the lowest it had ever gone, and Hayate was smiling to himself.

Hitomi won the tournament, not in short thanks to Lei Fang's enthusiastic cheering in the crowd (she swore she could hear her voice over thousands). Jann Lee, most shockingly of all, bowed out of the competition after that fight. Hitomi wondered if his intention had been to beat Lei Fang all along, if he'd never intended to stick around the competition. Considering Rig hadn't entered, and Mila knocked Diego out in their match, that was probably the best guess.

Chao Li never spoke to Lei Fang again, probably thought Jann Lee would punch him again. Which was fine because he probably would.

Lei Fang started openly talking about Jann Lee and how she was gonna beat him again for sure. She trained hard, but there was no more talk of Jann Lee accepting her. As far as Hitomi could tell, he'd done well more than that. Sure, Lei Fang sometimes showed up to their hang-outs with bruises all over, but the smile on Lei Fang's face was unmistakable (and so were bruises on her nape of her neck that were decidedly not a result of sparring). She did happen to see her friends cry once or twice after that, but it was all a result of watching a really sad family film that left both of them in tears. So did it count? Not really, Hitomi decided.

When they made chocolates on Valentine's Day, Lei Fang stuck to making something coffee-flavored. "I just feel like going a little less sweet this year." Hitomi grinned and kept her thoughts to herself, deciding that was perfectly fine because it meant she had to buy less sugar. The chocolates came out prettier than last year, and tastier (they'd had to sneak a bite). They'd stayed up all night and crashed on her couch watching rom-coms.

When they woke up, the box Hitomi had made had disappeared. Lei Fang laughed at her and said: "He's Japanese, isn't he? There better be a white day gift in March or I'll kick his ass for you."

If Lei Fang's chocolates were passed off to somebody else again this year, she certainly didn't act like it. In fact, Hitomi thought she saw a nearly permanent skip in her step.

There weren't anymore stories about romantic dates under moonlight or tales about a spring boat ride with recited poetry, but there were rants about sparring matches that didn't end her way, and stories where Lei Fang grew red and trailed off before cutting the story short altogether. Hitomi could see the details swarming in her big round eyes, and let her imagination run wild with what Jann Lee might be like when he's being nice.

The eighth Dead or Alive tournament came around, and once again, Hitomi and Lei Fang hit the road and trained. It went about the way it always did, though when they inevitably followed (stalked) Jann Lee to find out how his training had been going, Lei Fang wasn't shy about talking to him. The two exchanged witty banter; she taunted him, and he snarked. To Hitomi's joy, not necessarily surprise, Lei Fang offered to help Jann Lee train.

He took them up on it.

After a few sparring matches, Lei Fang and Hitomi decided to hit the road again. They wrapped their swollen limbs and put some bandaids on their cuts and waved goodbye to Jann Lee, who was covered in ACE bandages, himself. He'd merely nodded and gone back to training. The girls parted, but not before Hitomi caught the smallest exchange.

Lei Fang dilly dallied and let her eyes wander and watch him as he broke a log in half.

Hitomi bet neither of them knew it, but she saw him turn and smile at her.

#dead or alive #doa #lei fang #leifang #hitomi #jann lee #hayate

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high-fructose-lesbianism · 5 years

Text

The 5 Best and 5 Worst songs from 2017′s Billboard Top 100 Singles

Whoops, this is like a year late.

The 5 Best Singles

5. 1-800-273-8255- Logic ft. Alessia Cara & Khalid (#79)

Whenever pop songs touch on any sort of serious issue the question for me is do I buy the sentiment? Do I think it comes from a place of authenticity or is it a particularly cynical cash grab? I believe the sentiment on this one. I like the use of the suicide hotline number as the song title and the message is uplifting though not in a way that “message” songs can be where it just says, “hey, don’t do that, you don’t need to.” This song acknowledges the struggles of depression and suicidal thoughts without glorifying them nor minimizing them.

4. I Feel It Coming- The Weeknd ft. Daft Punk (#34)

I love The Weeknd’s collaborations with Daft Punk. The majority of the Weeknd’s work is more slow jams that might go on a “songs to have sex to playlist” but, well, I don’t have a great deal of need for such songs. I do always have a need for catchy, funky songs that combine the talents of robots and Canadians. AND while being more upbeat, it’s still absolutely a song you could have sex to.

3. Starboy- The Weeknd ft. Daft Punk (#20)

Yeah. I really like The Weeknd/Daft Punk collaboration. This one ranks a little higher because I think the beat is more recognizable. It charted last year and this year so this song has staying power and it deserves it. This is a catchy, well-produced song that missed getting on my best list in 2016 but a year later, with different songs to compete against and (hopefully) me developing slightly better taste in the interim, it’s definitely one of the best charting songs of the year for me.

2. Praying- Kesha (#67)

I don’t know if there’s been a pop song with this level of raw emotion in all the years of Billboard charts I’ve looked at so far. Kesha is an absolute powerhouse in this song. I’m really glad this song charted because it is definitely different from her previous charting singles, it’s certainly not a song to grind against a dude you’ve just met while intoxicated but Praying is such a showcase of Kesha’s talent as an artist. The amount of emotion she evokes in this song is really impressive. Even Adele hasn’t released a charting single that’s such a punch to the feelings.

1. Feel It Still- Portugal. The Man (#45)

But, at the end of the day, what I really want from my charting pop music is something I can dance to. Feel It Still is an exceptionally danceable song. I love it. It’s so funky. It makes me want to bust out all my white girl dance moves. I feel like there’s a dearth of songs that really make you want to get down and boogie in the charts these days and Feel It Still is there to represent that specific subgenre and it does so perfectly, with a great baseline and retro flair. I’m so about this song.

The 5 Worst Singles

5. Magnolia- Playboi Carti (#79)

There weren’t necessarily a lot of really notable, memorable bad songs on this year’s charts. Magnolia is here because more than anything, it’s forgettable. I guess there’s some use to it in that it sounds like an amalgamation or stereotype of the entire year in charting singles but nobody will remember this song in 15 years. Hell, I’m not sure anyone will remember this song in one year. It’s so disposable. There’s no staying power to it. It doesn’t seem like a song that a lot of people with have a big nostalgic connection to and exclaim in delight if they hear it in 15 years on a throwback radio station. Magnolia just kills three minutes and leaves no emotion, memory or thoughts behind it.

4. I Don’t Wanna Live Forever (Fifty Shades Darker)- ZAYN & Taylor Swift (#26)

I can’t stand Zayn’s falsetto. It hurts my ears. That’s the major sin of this song. If he sang at a register that appealed more to my human ears than bats, this song probably wouldn’t even make my short list of considerations for the worst songs because it’s otherwise a competent if unremarkable song. But jeez, I do not like listening to Zayn hitting that register. It makes me cringe like nails on a chalkboard. The song also doesn’t scream or even whisper passionate, kinky BDSM relationship but hey, the movie also failed on that front so I’m not even mad at that particularly.

3. Look What You Made Me Do- Taylor Swift (#39)

With 1989, if not before then, Taylor Swift proved she cant make a good-ass pop song. 1989 was an album full of them. As a followup, Look What You Made Me Do is more than disappointing. The melody isn’t good and is so unoriginal they had to settle a claim with Right Said Fred of I’m Too Sexy fame. That’s a problem. The sort of sing-talk that Swift does for most of the song also doesn’t appeal to me. And there’s the lyrics. Subtlety thy name is not Taylor Swift. We all know what this song is about and it’s not charming. She comes across as petty, thin-skinned and unlikable. She also completely fails to evoke any sort of bad-girl image despite that being her clear attempt. This song is bad in a way where I’m tempted to call it lazy because it’s definitely not utilizing all the potential of Taylor Swift and her team but that’s sort of the worst part about it, it’s not lazy or a throwaway song. A lot of thought went into this and all those thoughts were bad. This is not a song, it’s a compilation of bad ideas.

2. Chained to the Rhythm- Katy Perry ft. Skip Marley (#73)

It’s arguable if Katy Perry ever had a personality but in recent years I still feel like she’s lost whatever personality she initially had. This song is cliche and lame. Maybe a singer with a more powerhouse voice could’ve sold it but I dunno, the basic tune of this song seems like something I’ve heard several times before. Katy Perry’s music has always been pretty shallow but I excused it in the early years because it was at least catchy. I don’t find this song nor many of her recent hits to be such. Chained to the Rhythm just seems tired. It’s supposed to be a roof-raising party song but I just feel sleepy and a little sad when I listen to it. Even the fact that the chorus mentions zombies doesn’t soften my opinion to it. It’s such a bad simile and doesn’t even have the right number of syllables to quite fit the melody. I don’t like it.

1. Body Like a Back Road- Sam Hunt (#8)

Holy shit. This song is the highest charting of any song on my best or worst list and it’s the stupidest. I don’t need to do a particularly in depth analysis of this, do I? Comparing your lover’s body to a road of any description is a bad and unflattering metaphor. Anyone who’s a fan of country music should be furious at this song because it sounds like a parody of country music. How did Sam Hunt ever think this was a good and complimentary thing to say about his girl? God, this song is just beyond stupid. Sam Hunt deserves to be punched in the throat by the shambling, resurrected corpse of Johnny Cash for writing, recording and releasing this song.

Other Observations on this List

It’s been like a year since I started listening to this and I’m just hammering this out before I go on vacation for a week so these observations are gonna be kinda half-assed.

Listening to this playlist back in January and then months later when I finished was sort of interesting because I had a lot more passionate opinions in January and a lot of them felt sort of nullified when I went back and finished this in later months because music trends just sunk in more for me I guess.

I do wish this current trend of sort of droning pop music would end. So many songs this year don’t have a whole lot of inherent danceability.

So white rappers aren’t even a notable change in the status quo now, huh? I’m not saying 2018 was the first year that white rappers existed but I have noticed that in the past two or three years there just seems to be far more prominence of white rappers and less discussion about that. I think, as a culture, we’ve just stopped caring if it’s cultural appropriation or whatever which is fine I guess, but some of them are so average, I sorta wish it was still the case where (with the exception of Vanilla Ice), white rappers had to be in some way notable to prove that they deserved to take up space in a genre that started as being by and for the black community.

I didn’t put Bodak Yellow on my best list basically because of personal taste (mine is bad) but damn. What a powerhouse of a song. As a statement of intent, it’s exceptional. Cardi B came to slay.

Can we PLEASE be done with Maroon 5?

iSpy almost made my best list. It’s dumb but at least it knows it’s a dumb song which shows self-awareness that actually makes it smarter than a lot of songs on this list.

#mary dabbles in music criticism #long post

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zdbztumble · 6 years

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“Batman” Series Take

After chatting with @echidnapower and others about the DCAU, headcanons, rewrites, and the like, I remembered this little number I put together years ago - an outline for a hypothetical Batman series - a high budget animated series.

Some initial premises: it may seem repetitive, but I think TAS got it right with "Dark Deco." 30s dress and cars mixed with modern computers and TVs (which all have black and white screens) just worked for Batman's world, and if it ain't broke, don't fix it. I would push the architecture into a more overtly Gothic/Victorian style, with interiors taken from the late 50s/early 60s. I wouldn't mind a more "cartoony" character design either; I think a clean, simple, retro look to the characters mixed with very dark backgrounds and stories would make an interesting clash. The format would be hour-long, with 20 episodes a season and a TV-14 rating.

SEASON 1

On a foggy, drizzly, miserable evening, Bruce Wayne slips back into Gotham unnoticed after his many years away. Alfred picks him up, takes him to his parents' graves, and the obligatory flashback to the death of his parents is shown. This is as much of his origins as we'll ever see; Bruce's past, his travels, his training are to be left a mystery.

The Gotham Bruce has returned to has, for years, been under the total control of the Gotham Hold (an equivalent to the Five Families of New York), an alliance of the five major organized crime groups in town - the Falcone Empire, the Maroni Family, The Penguin's Flock, The Grissom Syndicate, and the Thorne Gang. The heads of these gangs are all public figures - Carmine Falcone and Carl Grissom relish their notoreity - but while Gothamites of all stripes have some awareness that the game is rigged, the true extent of the Hold's power and its true make-up is a complete mystery to the public and to most of law enforcement. Harvey Dent, fresh off his election victory, and Captain Gordon have put forward the most determined team trying to bust the Hold, but their efforts have been in vain. The judges and police commissioner they work with are openly corrupt. Of the three largest private companies headquartered in Gotham - Wayne Enterprises, Daggett Pharmaceuticals, and Shreck's Entertainment - two are in league with the Hold.

Bruce and Dent have been friends since childhood, but while the friendship has survived Bruce's long absence, Dent doesn't turn to Bruce for support. Upon his return, Bruce Wayne comes off as a "goody goody," completely incorruptible, but with no social skills, no public presence, and no business sense. No one in Gotham notices or cares that he's back. But while some of that persona is unintentional and genuine, Bruce does get more serious behind closed doors. While he leaves Lucius Fox in the CEO chair that Fox has held since Thomas Wayne's death, Bruce asks him to do more for the city and to ramp up competition with their crooked rivals. He also starts pilfering various cancelled and untested technology projects, which Fox turns a blind eye to.

Batman makes his first appearance on the docks, making short work of some small-time drug dealers. They are associates of the Falcone Empire; applying his detective skills, Batman is able to trace them to the Empire's largest narcotics crew and takes down the whole lot of them as they attempt a big score. On a Halloween later dubbed "Nosferatu Night," he tracks down and assaults the bosses of all the Hold gangs and uses sonar technology to sick thousands of bats on each of them. This strike throws Gotham upside down and emboldens Dent and Gordon, who succeed in forcing out the corrupt commissioner and finding a judge to prosecute the captured Falcone crew. It is Dent who Batman first contacts in this series, though Gordon is soon brought in, and the trio concot a plan to expose the extent of the Hold's power and take down the biggest and most public of its gangs - the Falcones.

Batman's methods let him uncover more than his legitimate partners ever could, and Gordon makes a turncoat of one of the captured Falcone soldiers. In a televised event analogous to the Valachi hearings, Dent uses the soldier as a mouthpiece to make public all of Batman's intel: each gang has its own primary racket, and various systems are set up to interconnect their interests. The Falcones make their living through narcotics and arms smuggling. The Maronis, once the one and only powerhouse in Gotham organized crime, have been cut down by their younger partners over the years and are now headed by a man, "Don Salvatore," who had hoped to escape his family's criminal past and reluctantly oversees his organization's gambling interests. The Penguin's Flock is a loose cabal of eight upper-crust figures who dabble in white collar crime, primarily counterfeiting, fencing of valuable antiques and artifacts, and high level political corruption. Their true leader is unknown, but Batman has observed all its members coming and going from the supposedly ruined Cobblepot estate. The Grissom Syndicate handles prostitution, with waste management as a very strong "front.” The Thornes control the unions of Gotham. There is also the Red Hood, the Hold's murder squad (made of one member per gang) so named for the unique outfit its members wear to avoid detection. Not even Batman could learn the names of the Red Hood's members, known only to the crime bosses. Each gang has a set number of seats on the Hold's "board of directors," and they meet monthly to coordinate and plot new illicit business. The public notoriety drives the Hold underground, and Batman makes a spectacular raid on Carmine Falcone's home, making off with "The Roman's" ledger. Dent is able to use it to secure arrest warrants for the top administration of the Empire, and in the biggest trial Gotham has seen in decades, manages to put Carmine Falcone away for life.

The victory is short-lived, however. The soldier-turncoat is gunned down by the Red Hood as he is brought in to testify at a new trial. The first of the radical criminals make their appearance: Catwoman, who seems more interested in playing cat and mouse with Batman than in any of the things she steals. While Batman hunts down the Cat, Bruce meets Selina Kyle. They immediately form a bond, though Selina seems more interested in a flirtatious friendship than anything serious. When Batman finally catches Catwoman, she proves gracious in defeat, revealing where everything she stole is, though she eludes actual arrest. Selina abruptly stops seeing Bruce around the same time. Next is Ivy, who seduces Dent with a mind to kill him for prosecuting eco-terrorists. Batman stops her, but the affair strains Dent's relationship with his wife Gilda. Finally, Mr. Freeze assaults Daggett Pharmaceuticals, hoping to take revenge on the underlings who caused his condition and to force Roland Daggett to pay for research to save his wife. When Batman stops Freeze, he is able to convince him to put vengeance aside, orders Fox to set up a research lab for Freeze in prison, and for the rest of the series, Freeze is an ally to Batman.

The affair with Ivy is kept hidden from the public and the Hold, but it shakes up Dent's mental state. He begins to see a psychologist - none other than Jonathan Crane, who sees Dent on the side from his duties at Arkham Asylum. Dent is revealed to have a split personality, born from his efforts to suppress his rage after he accidentally killed his alcoholic father while trying to defend himself and his mother. Crane has lately cut deals with the Thorne Gang to get their men out of jailtime, and also engages in many twisted experiments concerning fear. He now wants to see what would happen if Gotham's greatest hero became its greatest public menace. He approaches the Thornes for aid, and without the approval of the Hold, they agree. Dent and Gilda are kidnapped; restrained, Dent sees Gilda murdered before his eyes. As The Scarecrow, Crane tortures Dent with fear toxins, what he knows about his past, and a face full of corrosive bleach. Batman learns of the kidnapping and rushes to the rescue, but is too late to save Dent or capture Scarecrow. When Dent recovers physically, his mind is gone. He becomes "Two-Face Dent," and with a flip of the coin, vows to take down the Hold by killing off all its members. He goes on a mass shooting spree, sending Gotham into a panic. Rupert Thorne manages to escape Two-Face's wrath, but is killed by the Red Hood for helping to bring this menace upon the Hold. Crane delights in his "experiment's" success, and Gordon and Bruce are left to deal with the loss of their friend.

SEASON 2

A few months have passed. Two-Face has continued his shooting spree, driving all of organized crime further underground. He has claimed several Thorne soldiers, an entire Falcone crew, and the Falcone acting boss. The next in line for that job, Angelo Falcone, finds the Hold falling apart. He and the Penguin (who finally reveals himself to his fellow mobsters via speaker phone) both conclude that the strongest Hold gang could take advantage of their situation and absorb the others, and so the two begin a race to conquest. Their most visible battlefield is in their support for competing factions in the Thorne Gang; underboss Lew Moxon is backed by the Falcones, while lieutenant Vasily Kosov has the support of the Penguins. Angelo also adopts the guise of Holiday and starts killing off the biggest threats to his Empire in the other gangs. The Holiday guise is a risk; after the Two-Face fiasco, the Hold has voted to cut all ties to the "freaks." Not only has Angelo become a freak, he has kept in contact with Crane. And while he and the Penguin duke it out, sister Sofia and aunt Carla work within the Empire to undermine his reign.

Meanwhile, Gordon and Batman have soldiered on without Dent. The new DA, Janice Holder, is unfriendly towards Batman (and, as a social friend of Angelo Falcone, is lax if not openly corrupt when it comes to the Hold). Nevertheless, Gordon and Bats do have their successes. Gordon has put together a loyal team (Bullock, Montoya, John Blake, O' Hara). Selina abruptly reappears, and she and Bruce start casually dating. And Batman has an ace in the hole - Salvatore Maroni. After the Two-Face fiasco, the reluctant godfather has had enough. He won't testify for the police or the law, but he will talk to Batman. Among the nuggets he gives up is the identity of all the Red Hood assassins, as well as the leaders of the hit squad - Joe Chill and "Glasgow Jack," who have only been seen before this as chauffeurs and, in Jack's case, a popular stand-up at Underworld nightclubs. Based on Maroni's tips and Batman's own work, the Grissom Syndicate becomes the next prime target in the Hold for law enforcement. Tipped off by a mole, Grissom tries to avoid Carmine Falcone's fate. He resigns as head of his Syndicate, names Jack as his successor, and goes into hiding. Jack is unpopular as a boss in the Syndicate and in the entire Hold, not because he is too greedy, but because he frightens them. Ever since Batman first appeared, Jack has grown more and more wild - and he was barely in control to begin with. Since the Red Hood will not betray their boss, the Hold recruits Grissom gunmen to take Jack and his crew out as they inspect a chemical plant they operate as a front, Axis. Tipped off, the Red Hood all don their standard disguise and ambush their attackers. Batman and the police try to break up the fight and bring Jack to justice, but in the end, two are captured, two slip out, and another is accidentally knocked into a vat of chemicals by Batman. Jack and Joe Chill are not accounted for.

While Maroni's testimony is helpful, Batman has no respect for him. He is horrified when Maroni turns up at a Wayne fundraiser as a guest of Leslie Thompkins. It is revealed that Salvatore's father Luigi was a patient of Thompkins, was also a reluctant mobster who tried to reform before the Falcones started a mob war, and had his life saved by Thomas Wayne. Dr. Wayne and Luigi became friends in spite of themselves. Salvatore is also Thompkins' patient and has kept a correspondence with Alfred started by his father. Bruce develops a reluctant respect for the godfather, and just in time. The Hold has found out that Maroni talked to the Batman, and kidnaps his two sons to try and force him to come forward and reveal what he told. Instead, Batman and Maroni blaze into where the boys are being kept and save them. Maroni officially cooperates with law enforcement, convinces several of his top men to do the same, and is deported to Sicily, where he takes up his dream job as a writer.

The testimony of the Maroni defectors opens up the entire Hold to prosecution, and Batman and Gordon are hopeful for a successful strike against them, despite distractions from new "freaks" (Man-Bat) and Catwoman's return. But a few weeks after the incident at Axis, a radio message announces that Grissom will meet his death at the hands of the Joker. The prediction comes true, down to the minute. Several more members of the Syndicate meet a similar end before the targets become random civilians. The deaths are all caused by "the Joker's Patented Smylex Venom," which Batman is able to synthesise an antidote for, but no one can predict when or where the deaths will come. The Joker makes his first public appearance in a deadly parade that leaves one of the busiest streets of Gotham in ruins, courtesy of Mr. J and his Red Triangle Circus Gang. It is implied (but never confirmed) that the Joker is either Jack or Joe Chill, and whichever he isn't is the Ringleader character of the Circus Gang. The Ringleader is the Number 3 man in the group; Number 2 is Harley Quinn, who has Dini's origin but met Joker outside of an institution.

The Joker keeps up his reign of terror, always evading the law and Batman. His antics are destroying organized crime. After Grissom's death, what remains of his gang is absorbed by the Penguins; what was left of the Maronis was absorbed by the Falcones. They continue to fight each other through the Thornes. Angelo Falcone hires Crane to take out the Joker. Crane gets his chance when the Joker breaks into Arkham. As Scarecrow, Crane tries his fear gas on the Joker; it has no effect. In response, the Joker gases Scarecrow, and all of Arkham, with a laughing gas, and sets them all loose on Gotham. When Sofia Gigante gets wind of her brother's failed plan and Holiday guise, she puts a contract on his head; on the 4th of July, Angelo takes them both out in a suicide strike, leaving his top man as the boss of the Empire. In the Thorne Gang, Kosov kills Moxon and agrees to serve under the Penguin. Batman exposes the Penguin as Oswald Cobblepot at some point in the season, but he is able to remain an obscure figure to the public. Two-Face, with a flip of the coin, plans a bombing of the Cobblepot estate, but the Penguin escapes to an underground lair. He and the new Falcone boss make peace, and the streamlined Hold plots its future in a Gotham where the criminal scene is dominated by the freaks.

Batman and Gordon rush to control this situation. Batman targets the Joker himself, getting unexpected help from Catwoman. In the end, the Joker falls from a building and his body can't be found (the Joker's appearances would follow in the vein of his earliest comics; he appears to have died, but you're never sure). While most of the inmates of Arkham (and Scarecrow) remain loose, Gordon manages to scatter them, capture most of the Circus Gang (Harley and the Ringleader get away), and Two-Face. He is promoted to commissioner.

SEASON 3

The most episodic season, featuring encounters with classic Batman foes. A proper confrontation with Scarecrow, a proper confrontation with Penguin, Riddler, Harley and Ivy, Mad Hatter (with Tweedledee and Tweedledum as henchmen, naturally), two more rounds with the Joker, King Tut (who is more Catwoman's foe than Batman's), Clayface, Two-Face's escape from Arkham, and Croc. Catwoman gets into hijinks throughout, and we (but not Batman) are privy to her darker side.

I've always wanted to see a Batman story that went something like this: Gotham hits a calm spell, and while Gordon spends the extra time with his family, Bruce has no clue what to do with himself.

Throughout, Bruce and Selina get more serious. Eventually, her identity is revealed, with the twist that it's Bruce instead of Batman who discovers it; he doesn't take her in right away, not knowing how to take it. The season finale is an adaptation of the Mad Monk story, forcing Batman to accept the existence of the truly supernatural.

SEASON 4

It opens with a trip to Metropolis on the trail of some of Penguin's smugglers, a "World's Finest" episode. When Bruce gets back to Gotham, Selina has left town under mysterious circumstances. However, a woman named Talia who Bruce meets at a ball keeps his mind off of Selina. Talia appears to be the daughter of a visiting diplomat, and as she and Bruce fall in love, she puts pressure on Bruce to become a more public figure, to use his wealth and influence for philanthropic causes. Lucius Fox has encouraged similar goals. This leads to Bruce having an experience based on the "Ghosts" segment of "Haunted Knights." This experience causes him to question his image of his father and his commitment to his persona. This also causes him, when he next faces the Joker, to make an offer similar to that at the end of "Killing Joke;" the Joker refuses, but agrees to go to Arkham "for a nice long vacation." Meanwhile, a few more notables from the Rogue's Gallery make their appearances; Solomon Grundy, Ventriloquist, and Hugo Strange.

Strange, as it turns out, is in the employ of the diplomat, who is of course Ra's al Ghul. Together, they deduce Batman's true identity. After the obligatory test of his "rescue" of Talia, Ra's wants Bruce as his successor and Talia's husband. When Bruce refuses on both counts, Ra's and Strange attempt to frame Batman for various crimes; they eventually succeed, Gordon the only one keeping the faith. Batman flees Gotham and the country on the trail of Ra's and Strange. He eventually learns of Ra's immortality through the Pits, that there are only a very few Lazurus Pits left, and that Ra's plans to detonate them to wipe out humanity, courtesy of Strange's technology. However, Ra's has misled Strange about his intentions. When Strange learns of the double-cross (courtesy of Batman), he engineers a controlled destruction of the Pits, preventing mass destruction and robbing Ra's of his immortality. When there is only one Pit left (the one their headquarters is built on), Ra's stabs Strange, and he and Batman have their classic duel. Ra's seems to have the upper hand, but in his last moments of life, Strange draws a gun and puts a bullet in Ra's head. As the headquarters begins to collapse (Strange had set it to blow), Talia throws herself into the fire rather than go with Batman.

As Batman, badly injured, flies back to Gotham, the military is scrambled to shoot him down. He is still not cleared of false charges. Alfred has been working on exonerating him, and sends his evidence to Gordon, but Gordon can't spread the news in time to stop Batman from being blown out of the sky. He staggers out of the wreckage, only to be shot into the water by soldiers. He barely makes it back to Wayne Manor. As Alfred pieces him back together, Bruce decides to give up the cape and cowl and honour his vow another way.

SEASON 5

We open six months into "The Year of the Dark Knight's Rest." Bruce and Alfred have closed Wayne Manor and moved into a penthouse in the city. Bruce has taken Talia's and Fox's advice, becoming a public philanthropist and more involved in his family’s company. However, he is still Batman at heart, and his unsatisfied desire - his need - for the cape and cowl is taking a toll on his state of mind. He has also been diagnosed with the early stages of Type 2 diabetes. In the Batman's absence, Gordon has generally managed, though morale in law enforcement has sunk and morale in crime has risen. The Penguin has turned over his criminal interests to underlings (ostensibly; in fact, they are front bosses still answering to him) and set himself up as a legitimate figure. Though he had been known as a crime lord, the public never knew the extent of his misdeeds, and he enjoys a wonderful reputation and a greater degree of political influence than ever before. Many of the freaks have been released (or escaped) from Arkham, and have carved up the city into spheres of influence, where their particular brand of crime dominates. The Joker breaks out of Arkham and goes on a rampage to try and lure out Batman, but when he never appears, the Joker gives up and goes back to Arkham. The damage caused is another weight on Bruce’s psyche.

A year on from his “retirement,” Bruce attends a charity circus, headlined by the Flying Graysons. Another member of the circus is Bane. Imported as an enforcer for the Falcones, he has gone undercover in the circus to ensure that they pay their protection money. When they stop, Bane enlists a crew to cause an accident for the Graysons, leaving 13-year old Dick an orphan. Bruce gives the boy a home and, seeing the effect the loss of his parents has had on Dick, finally takes back up the mantle. He tracks down the hoods, who finger Bane. When facing Bane, Batman is faced with just how much of his edge he's lost, and almost has his back broken when Dick (who found the cave and stowed away in the Batmobile) saves his life. Together, they bring down Bane, and Batman realises Dick's drive. Reopening Wayne Manor, he offers to train Dick, and Robin is born.

Batman and Robin spend the rest of the season bringing down mobsters and encountering notables from the Rogue's Gallery. Along the way, they encounter Barbara Gordon. Wheelchair bound from childhood in this continuity, she deduces their identities and offers her computer services; Oracle is born. Selina returns to Gotham, with nothing to say about her absence. She starts going out as Catwoman again, and Batman dutifully goes after her, though it soon becomes clear that she is handing out wealth she aquired during her time away, not stealing it. During one encounter, they say certain lines to each other; in their first meeting out of costume, they repeat the lines, and Selina learns Bruce's identity. They get together, and Catwoman becomes (a distant) part of the Bat-family.

SEASON 6

Two years have passed. Batman, Robin, and Oracle are a seasoned trinity of crime-fighters. Bruce and Selina have maintained their relationship, and Catwoman assists on a case-by-case basis. Bruce is as close to happy as it's possible for him to be. Most of the radical criminals are in Arkham, or well-contained.

But the Bat-family is faced with a new kind of foe. The Penguin, as a legitimate figure, has formed closer partnerships with Shreck and Daggett. They have successfully funded a mayor, forced Gordon out of office, bought most of the city councilmen, and gotten massive deregulation passed. They've destroyed the environment and preyed on the populace, and all of it legal, since the start of Season 5. Because this was done over a long span of time, and because the radical criminals are still so visible, no one has really stopped to notice. Batman's new strategy is one of espionage; with Catwoman and Oracle's help, he uncovers the full extent of what has been done, and through viral messages, turns public opinion against Penguin and his allies. Meanwhile, Bruce redoubles Wayne Enterprises' efforts to compete with Daggett and Shreck.

It isn't all corporate espionage and stealth campaigning, though; there are still crooks to fight. The beginnings of the the Royal Flush Gang pop up, and Hush arrives on the scene. This version of Hush has a grudge against Bruce and Harvey Dent, who was with them on that fateful day at camp. He kidnaps Bruce and Two-Face, but the experience reawakens Harvey and his free will. He stops Hush without killing him, frees Bruce, and checks himself in to Arkham (I figure at least one version of Harvey should have a happy ending).

Things begin to turn south towards the end, however. The Joker breaks out of Arkham and kidnaps Robin on his first night going solo. Batman, Catwoman, and Oracle search for weeks, without leads, when a massive explosion rocks the Axis Chemical ruins. Robin is found, hideously scarred and barely alive. When his fate is pronounced "uncertain" by ICU, Batman tears through the underworld, demanding leads on the Joker. He finally tracks him down to a ruined carnival, where he sees Harley kill the Ringleader for perceived disloyalty. When Batman finds the Joker, he is treated to footage of Dick's torture, and the Joker reveals that the Boy Wonder was eventually coerced into revealing everything he knew about Bruce. It is implied (but not confirmed) that the Joker knows something about the deaths of the Waynes. Batman attacks, and it becomes clear that the Joker's whole plan in torturing Robin was to drive Batman to kill him. He comes very close, but in the end, just cannot do it. When he refuses, the Joker goes on the attack, hoping to force a murder in self-defense. In the end, the Joker ends up killing himself. His last words: this isn't funny.

Harley is taken to Arkham. After a few months, Dick has recovered physically. Emotionally, there is some work to be done, but he wants to take up the costume again. When Bruce refuses, the two argue, and Dick ends up stealing the Robin costume and running away. Bruce does not go after him.

Even with Dick's departure, the strategy against the Penguin works; his mayor is recalled, Gordon is reappointed, and regulations are restored. The Penguin is arrested on evidence of his past criminal deeds, and Daggett falls under investigation. But Shreck weasels his way out of trouble. When his secretary finds out about a certain scheme, he hires Black Mask to kill her. That secretary was a good friend of Selina's. She tracks down Black Mask, and the fight ends with Mask and Shreck in a precarious position. Catwoman lets them die, and becomes wanted for murder. When Batman confronts her about it, he appears to talk her into coming home with him. However, she sees him reach for handcuffs. She swipes him across the face and skips town again. The deception causes friction with Alfred and Oracle, and Bruce gives up on any love life.

SERIES FINALE MOVIE

It is 20 years in the future. Gotham is not quite as futuristic as in "Batman Beyond," but it is on its way (it has a retro-futuristic look, with Gothic touches of course). This "New Gotham" barely hides the ruins of the old; not long ago, a massive hurricane struck, crippling the city. It has just gotten back on its feet. Dick Grayson has gone through the Teen Titans and Nightwing phases of his career, married Starfire, and is running for mayor of Gotham. Barbara Gordon has replaced her father as police commissioner. They are in a similar spot to Dent and Jim at the start of the series: organized crime is again ruling the streets. Supplanting the Falcones and the Penguins as the major force in the underworld is the Jokerz. They operate in several large groups, loosely involved with each other but all paying homage to Harley Quinn as the queenpin. Harley has clung to the delusional belief that "Puddin" will come back for her, and her inner circle has taken on a cultlike atmosphere. The biggest corporation in town is DagShreck Power, an amalgam of the old Daggett and Shreck businesses bought and controlled by the unscrupulous Derek Powers.

The Jokerz and Powers pose a problem beyond what Barbara and Dick can manage alone; they need Batman. But Barbara has not spoken to Bruce for years over some mysterious falling-out. Dick and Bruce are still estranged. And Bruce himself is not up to the task anymore. Years as Batman and advancing diabetes have taken their toll on his body. Technology enables him to patrol the entire city still, but in hand-to-hand combat he can only manage for short periods of time. While his mind is as sharp as ever, he is limited in what his detective work can accomplish, not having a partnership with the police anymore. As Bruce, he has lost touch with his company. Fox's replacements have not done well, and there is immense pressure to sell the company to Powers, something Bruce seems prepared to do. He spends his days being pieced together and cared for by Alfred and playing dice with Harvey, who has fully recovered and lives a quiet, anonymous life in the city.

Though Alfred hides it well from Bruce, he is feeling his age, and soon is on his deathbed. He tells Bruce that the has planned his funeral, that certain people will be there, and that he wants Bruce to try and make amends with these people. When the funeral arrives, Bruce meets several mourners, including Don Salvatore Maroni, whose sons have become honest and effective businessmen at Wayne Enterprises. But the people Bruce is expected to make up with are Dick, Barbara, and Selina Kyle. Selina and Barbara remain cold to his (admittedly feeble) efforts, but Dick, encouraged by Starfire, agrees to try to patch things up. Also at the funeral are members of Bruce's mom's family - the McGinnis family. Bruce's cousin Warren, an employee of Powers, asks Bruce to give his wayward son Terry a job. Bruce initially refuses, seeing Terry as a punk, but he later observes him defending his brother from bullying cousins. Knowing he'll have trouble living alone in his condition, he agrees to take Terry on as an attendant and chauffeur.

Terry, a 17-year old ex-punk with a healthy social life, is initially bummed about the job, but starts to have a better view of Bruce when he observes "the old man" outmaneuver Powers and the traitors in his own company, appointing Maroni's sons as the new heads of Wayne Enterprises and retaining ownership. As they make their way home, they are attacked by some Jokerz, and Bruce again impresses Terry by fending them off. The fight drains Bruce, and he has to be rushed home. While preparing to go home, Terry finds a bat in the grandfather clock, and uncovers the Batcave. Bruce throws him out.Terry and his father fight over his losing the job; when Terry comes home after the fight, his father is dead. A note written right before his death indicates Warren knew something about Powers and the Jokerz, but he was unable to finish writing it before being killed. Terry goes to Bruce, who does not offer or refuse help. When he leaves to take his medicine, Terry steals the suit and jet, intent on getting Powers. Bruce takes control of them and brings them home. He tells Terry that what he uncovered is the first piece of a puzzle, and that he is willing to train him so that they can solve it together.

Over the next few weeks, this is just what they do. Bruce gets more involved in the company to have opportunities to meet with Powers, while Terry is given the batsuit and allowed to spy on Powers and the Jokerz (but nothing else). Terry is a fast study on detective work and logic, being a fan of Sherlock Holmes, but is unrefined in physical combat, and Bruce is limited in what he can teach him. After a time, Terry wants to be allowed out on a full night. When Bruce refuses, he takes off anyway. He takes on a gang of Jokerz, gets in way over his head, and barely makes it out alive. Meanwhile, an attempt is made on Bruce's life; Powers wants him out of the way. All the stress of the night results in a heated argument in the cave, culminating in Bruce having a diabetic stroke. During his recovery, Dick, Barbara, and Selina all come to visit, and they all (more or less) reconcile. Dick and Barbara remain skeptical of Terry, though Dick is more open to the idea of a new Batman. Selina and Bruce find they still have feelings for each other, and Selina moves in to Wayne Manor to help take care of him. Being in much better condition than Bruce, she is the one to train Terry in martial arts, and in whip work; this Batman has a bit more of Zorro in him than usual.

Together, the three of them uncover the plot: Powers has been smuggling in equipment for the Jokerz. While he thinks it will be used to extract ransom, it is actually meant by Harley to fulfill an old "master joke" the Joker had drawn up years ago (a variation on "Joker: Last Laugh.") When push comes to shove, Bruce is both afraid for Terry and reluctant to give up the mantle, refuses to let Terry fight, and instead passes the information on to Barbara and Dick. But when a Jokerz mole passes along word, the pair are attacked and hospitalized. Starfire is injured too, leaving the Bat-family as the city's best line of defense. Bruce eventually relents; he and Terry both don the cape and cowl (with Selina as Catwoman) and take on their enemies. Powers is turned into Blight and escapes, most of the Jokerz leadership is rounded up, the plan is foiled, and Harley dies (the Joker didn't want anyone doing this "gag" but him; he found a way from beyond the grave to kill anyone who tried). In the conflict, both Batmen show their stuff, but Terry ends up having to save Bruce.

As they start to recover, Dick and Barbara concede that Terry is worthy of the mantle, though it is clear he needs more training. Barbara agrees to tolerate his presence on the condition that Bruce permanently gives up the cowl. Bruce agrees, but can't resist one last "flight." While patrolling the city, he spies a couple and their son being held at gunpoint in Crime Alley. He swoops in to help, and he does scare off the gunman (and the couple), but he takes a fatal bullet wound. With his last strength, he makes it back to the cave and extracts a promise from Selina to finish Terry's training. Two funerals are held; one in public, one for the Bat-family, who bury Bruce in the cave. Terry prepares for his first solo flight. Batman lives on.

#z's fics #batman #DC #fan fiction #headcanon

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bringinbackpod · 3 years

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Interview with Gavin Turek

We had the pleasure of interviewing Gavin Turek over Zoom video! Gavin Turek has been a celebrated musician for years both for her “endlessly groovy and gripping” (NME) recorded work and spirited live performances (often featuring choreography she learned from her time spent in Ghana), and today finds the much anticipated release of her debut full-length album, ‘Madame Gold’ on her own Madame Gold Records. ‘Madame Gold’, is a stunning debut album that represents Gavin’s personal alter-ego who she sought strength in to overcome her inner saboteur. After bouts of self-doubt, discouragement from the music industry, and feelings of helplessness amidst the numerous global crises of the last year, Gavin entered the studio to complete the much-anticipated project and ended up creating a true powerhouse tour de force of modern R&B. Sonically the album trades the starlit disco vibes of her earlier work for an irresistible groove-heavy, R&B foundation. Tapping into the power that comes from vulnerability and taking inspiration from badass divas like Grace Jones and Diana Ross, 70s soul icons like Curtis Mayfield and the Isley Brothers, and modern day pioneers like Tame Impala and Raphael Saadiq, Gavin’s sound is an honorable throwback to the past while also undeniably fresh and current in the modern music world. The more contemplative moments on the album capture a completely different side of the songwriter. "We took a more experimental route while creating the hybrid of soul and pop I'm known for, in order capture the inner transformation that was happening in me. I didn’t want to repeat what I did before,” said Gavin about the sonic direction of the album. NY Magazine’s The Cut said the LP (produced and co-written by Childish Gambino collaborator Chris Hartz) is “sure to be a summer staple”, while BUST called Turek “not only magical but a woman with integrity and heart.” Early singles “Illusions” and “Slide” (feat. bLAck pARty) garnered praise from Stereogum who praised the former as a "blissed-out love song”, and KCRW who called the latter “a perfect fit for your weekend on the boardwalk, or late-nite cruising down the boulevard.” Also out today is the music film accompaniment for “Hero”, which Gavin says “tells the origin story of my alter ego Madame Gold, through a cinematic lens. At the height of the pandemic, I found myself depleted and discouraged, unsure how to move forward. One fateful day, I tuned in for an "artist talk" given by one of my favorite visual artists, Renee Cox. Her work and encouraging words were exactly what I needed to be reminded of who I was: a hero. Conceptually and creatively directed by myself and brilliantly directed by Josh Sondock, the HERO music film is meant to inspire people, especially women who feel lost and out of touch with their personal strength, to become their own heroes and save themselves instead of waiting for someone else.” Through the writing sessions for the album, Gavin exorcised deep feelings of personal pain, confusion, loss, love, moments of magic, and pressure. The result is an eclectic, pristine, and cathartic unveiling of an artist truly coming into her own -- be it on “Whisper” (a futuristic take on personal faith that includes a heartwarming interview snippet with Gavin’s mother), “Hero” (a certifiable bop about leaning into your own personal strength), or “Elevator” (which Refinery29 called the “perfect soundtrack for a fresh start”). According to NPR, “one way or another, Gavin Turek is going to entertain you”, whether through her live performances or her music. You may have heard of Gavin in the past through her entrancing solo work, acclaimed collaborations with TOKiMONSTA, her performance on CONAN, or performing on Jimmy Kimmel Live! with Tuxedo, Mayer Hawthorne, and Cee Lo respectively. From growing up with a father who played piano and tagging alongside her mother who toured coffeeshops singing gospel, to studying dance in Ghana, to cutting her teeth as a working musician in Los Angeles, performing has been in the forefront of Gavin’s mind for her entire life, and with ‘Madame Gold’ the future is looking nothing but bright. We want to hear from you! Please email [email protected]. www.BringinitBackwards.com #podcast #interview #bringinbackpod #GavinTurek #zoom Listen & Subscribe to BiB Follow our podcast on Instagram and Twitter! source https://www.spreaker.com/user/14706194/interview-with-gavin-turek

#podcast #interview #bringinbackpod #music #aspn #americansongwriter #americansongwriterpodcastnetwor

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dprdabin · 6 years

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Korea's Rising Rap Star DPR LIVE Looks Back on 2017 and Talks New Plans: Exclusive Video & Interview

With an onslaught of addictive bangers and visually-captivating videos in 2017, DPR LIVE has ascended from an elusive, underground rapper to one of the most talked about and celebrated new voices emerging in Korea's rapidly growing hip-hop scene.

Since gaining recognition through knockout bars and a scene-stealing performance on the critically acclaimed viral hit "Eung Freestyle," DPR LIVE―real name Hong Da Bin―has excelled thanks to his chart accolades and internet co-signs.

The 25-year-old spawned two impressive EPs via his explosive debut EP Coming to You Live from March 2017 and stellar follow-up Her in December, the latter peaking at No. 8 on Billboard's World Album chart, despite no big-name features. DPR LIVE also played to sold-out crowds in Korea and London last year, scored a promotional video campaign with Nike, and racked up millions of views on YouTube, all helping him garner a legion of excited fans all across the globe.

Yet what really sets the charismatic rapper apart as one of the more interesting come-ups in 2017 is the fact that he has achieved all this as a completely independent artist -- a rarity in Korea's highly-competitive music scene.

DPR LIVE and his crew Dream Perfect Regime -- a creative collective better known as DPR -- have relentlessly hustled with nothing but talent and determination, all in the name of keeping LIVE’s budding rap career authentic and true to the crew's message. Never bowing to industry standards, the collective's focus on positioning DPR LIVE onto the mainstream radar has already paid off in a big way: The crew received their first major monetary investment in late 201, which helped fund a new Seoul studio.

While DPR LIVE has already made accomplishments most of his indie peers can only dream of, the young talent is eyeing 2018 with higher aspirations. Gaining stateside traction for his witty flow flips between Korean and English and forward-thinking ear, LIVE earned a slot on this year's massively-anticipated, sixth annual "Korea Spotlight" showcase at SXSW 2018 among some of Korean music’s biggest names -- like R&B phenom Crush, rock sensation Hyukoh and powerhouse diva Lee Hi -- all taking place on March 16 at the Belmont in Austin, Tex.

Ahead of his debut U.S. show, DPR LIVE exclusively sat down with Billboard Koreafor his first-ever, in-depth artist interview at his new studio to share his personal struggles, creative vision and goals.

Watch DPR LIVE’s recap video and read full interview below.

What were some of the challenges you faced in the industry as an indie artist without an actual label?

Oh man, where do I even start? We had a shit-ton of challenges. First of all, financing everything on our own was the hardest thing we had to overcome. We started with zero capital. No investor, no fancy equipment, no nothing. That’s why we had to start as a visual team, but that was probably the smartest move we made, to think about it now. Not only did we get a chance to showcase our talent, but it also helped to connect with other musicians and entertainment labels. It was a good way of learning the ropes of the Korean music industry; how it worked, how we needed to evolve to get to the next level, etc.

For a good two years, DPR REM [creative director] and DPR IAN [visual director] busted their asses shooting materials for other artists in order to help fund any and all of our projects during that time. And the more I think about it now, the more I’m grateful for that, you know? Cause I know it takes a lot of trust and commitment. They were sacrificing a lot, and that’s what fueled me when I was making music. I knew I not only had to do it for myself, but more importantly, for my team.

The second biggest challenge, I guess, was the fact that we were completely clueless. [Laughs.] I didn’t even know what it meant to "mix songs," or how to get distribution for my music. It was all trial and error, because none of us had any prior experience. We had no money or any real knowledge as to how this [music industry] really works― all we had was just a whole lot of untamed passion and a dream. If one approach didn’t work, we would learn from it and move onto the next one. We learned a lot in those years. That experience is what helped us launch our own company. Now, we get to run our own show and do exactly what we want to do. No one tells us what to do, what to make or how to do it. If we like it as a team, then we do it. That kind of freedom is truly incredible. Our struggles brought us closer together and I’m proud that we have accomplished this as a team.

What is your and DPR’s greatest strength and weakness?

Our greatest strength is that whatever we do, it’s organic. We also know each other so well now to the point where we can easily align our thoughts in such a quick way that it allows us to get straight to work. There’s really no buffer period or queue. We have our own system that works efficiently for all of us. But on the other hand, we can improve and learn how to expand and grow our team. We’re known to be mysterious and unpredictable, and we like that because it keeps our fans in suspense and on edge, but it makes it harder for all of us to bring in new members, because we are such a tight-knit group. However, I’m confident we’ll get into the hang of things in due time.

Last year was great year for you. What are some of the most memorable moments?

2017 has been a life-changing year for me and my team. I released two albums, moved into a brand-new, dope studio, got to travel to some awesome places and work with some amazing people. I honestly couldn't have wished for more. Although all these moments were significantly memorable, I’d have to say getting our studio was probably the most memorable moment of 2017 for DPR. Might not sound like a big deal to some, but you have to understand, we used to hold meetings ranging from coffee shops to even local karaoke rooms on a regular basis just to get some privacy at times. Now that we have a place we can all call home, with separate recording, producing and meetings rooms; it’s surreal, to be honest. Really goes to show what can be achieved.

Any mistakes or regrets?

No, I don’t have regrets. Everything I’ve experienced was for a specific purpose, and I really believe in that. Literally everything. Although, I had a fair share of upsets and disappointments, now that I look back on it, I'm starting to see how it all came together. Each experience was meant to happen at that exact moment so that we can draw a bigger picture. I'm a huge believer in the whole "everything happens for a reason" quote and so is my team. DPR was basically founded upon that motto. We all happened to meet by chance if you think about it. A bunch of kids, who grew up in all corners of the world, somehow met up in Seoul and eventually came together to do what we do now as DPR.

Your debut EP Coming to You Live boasts guest features from some of the top names in the industry. How did you get them to collaborate?

It was a mix of good timing and mutual respect, I guess. DPR was slowly getting recognized in the industry as an up-and-coming visual team and that really helped my musical career and credibility. While I was in the studio recording demos, IAN and REM were hustling on the video side and doing whatever they could do to spread our brand name. It also helped us earn some money to finance whatever we wanted to do in-house. [Laughs.] Also, being featured on "Eung Freestyle," which was also produced and directed by my team, gave us a good boost. It helped start a lot of conversations with artists in general.

Your recent release Her has also been successful. What did you want to resonate with this project?

Her is a more genre-specific compilation of songs than my first EP. I wanted to get more personal and intimate with my listeners on themes relating to love and relationships.

Where does your musical inspiration come from?

For me, inspiration comes in many angles. I’d say half of it comes from just an array of talented musicians and their music. The internet in itself is inspiring sometimes. On the other hand, a lot my inspiration comes from my experiences in life and the things I place value on.

Why and how did you start making music?

I started making music when I was stationed in the Korean army. I went relatively early for my age, and I had a lot of free time on my hands so I would start writing whenever I had the chance. That’s where my passion slowly grew. It was a good time for me to reflect on my future; I had a lot of thoughts/things I wanted to say. That’s where I really picked up writing song lyrics.

What goals do you have for 2018?

I can probably make a huge list of what goals I want to hit in 2018, but ultimately, I really just want my team to stay healthy, committed and passionate. That’s not only for 2018, but that’s really a lifetime goal I have.

And what's the biggest drive that motivates you?

I just want to release quality music and materials. I hope we [DPR] never get lazy or complacent, and continue to challenge each other so that we can continuously push boundaries. It’s not easy to impress people these days, but to rise above that, and to see that stamp of approval and recognition from people is where all my adrenaline rush comes from. It drives me and my team to go beyond.

Where do you see yourself in the next few years?

Hopefully in the next few years, I’ll not only be a better artist myself but I hope to see our team grow and continue to do more exciting things together. Whether it be a visual thing, or a music thing, or something completely different, I just want to see us all succeed together. That’s really the main point.

In the end, it's not really the legacy that I leave behind, but the impact we make as a team. There aren’t that many teams like us in Korea and for that reason, it’d be really dope if we could almost set a benchmark or an example for the next up-and-coming generation of creatives to think outside the box and really learn to DIY. In the end, that’s what we did and it's been the best decision we’ve made.

#dpr live #dabin #hong dabin #dpr #article #billboard #im so proud fuck #180117

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evolutionsvoid · 6 years

Photo

This submission is quite different from the others, as you can probably tell by the mass of poorly stitched together drawings. The thing is, there are some times where I go through the whole drawing and coloring process, only to dislike what comes out the other end. For some reason I fail to notice my distaste for the piece during any point of its production, only realizing that I hate it when all is said and done. It can also happen long after the picture is drawn. Due to my extremely overloaded posting lineup, a lot of my drawings sit for months until they see the light of day. During that time, I may look them over and find that I didn't do a good enough job the first time, and choose to go for a redraw or recolor. These designs and colorings that I dislike are then shelved and shunned, until today. After amassing quite a few failures, I thought it would be neat to post them all just to show the cavalcade of poor decisions. Not everything you make is perfect, but failures and victories are the bricks that pave the path to progress! Some of these pieces may seem familiar, as their redone designs have been posted long ago. Regardless, I feel like talking about them, so here is an explanation of what they are and why I hate them! (Starting at the top, left to right) Pelicairn: This one wins the award for "Design that has Forgotten the Entire Point." The entire reason I was designing the pelicairn was to make an ambush-predator bird that lived in rocky places. I thought a pelican was a fitting species, and the idea of a bird hiding as a rock seemed pretty fun. What came out instead was some saurian monstrosity that couldn't possibly function the way I had intended. For some reason I thought it would fold up nicely into a fake boulder, but the design was an absolute bust. So I went back to the drawing board and came up with the more practical and way cuter bird Nerve Pincher: An attempt at an update for a super old design, this one flopped completely when I saw how flat and boring it turned out. The serpentine nature of the beast was lost in a fatter look and the colors didn't seem to work out well. No real update has been posted for it yet, but I have been working to rectify this mistake. Thunder Bird: This design ran into the same problem as the Pelicairn, as it came out too lanky and stretched out. I had wanted to fuse a parrot and a giant ground sloth, but I wound up taking too much ground sloth and made it look awkward. All the other elements seemed right, but the skeleton was all wrong. Thankfully I fixed it with a more squat, hunched powerhouse that looked like it could carry the title Thunderbird The Greedy Pudding Bear: A rather weird beast that came completely out of nowhere, this version was aiming to fit the size of a mascot costume, but the final result didn't grab me. It was too small and it didn't give a gross enough silhouette. The fixed version did a better job making it more monstrous and repulsive. The Scorched: A design and concept I have fully tossed away at the moment, these things were supposed to be the dryad equivalent of demons. A burnt husk of a being that was wreathed in ash and flame. Drawn a couple of years ago, I feel it looks worse every time I take a look at it. Really sloppy and not all that good looking. May revisit it, but I am not confident on that. Aconstrum: Speaking of dryads and their monster equivalents, the Aconstrum was a design I wrestled with for a good while. How on earth do you make plant werewolves? My first answer was to try and give it a "fur" equivalent, coating the thing in leaves and vines. The problem I ran into, though, was that there was too much green and it looked quite messy. The final version of the Aconstrum fixed this by replacing vines with petals and ditching the green entirely for brown, gnarled bark. Stalked Men: Recognize these guys? Originally called Stalked Devils, these critters were traced over to create the Stalked Men, and for good reason. The reason being that their original color scheme was absolutely terrible. Dull reds and browns and utterly drab. I was trying to get the look of real-life stalk-eyed flies but failed miserably. They looked much like my Giant Ants, and it didn't fit at all with creatures that live in the jungle. They needed color! Pzazz! The new color scheme for the Stalked Men thankfully rectified that bland look. Undead....thing: Had ideas for a concept and it came out poorly. Not much to say on this guy. I liked a lot of parts of him, but the whole piece just seemed blah and sloppy. Working to see if this can be salvaged. Vilicity: The one of her two color schemes that I debated using, and wound up discarding this one. This look was to give her an armored appearance, or something slightly inorganic. The grey worked well with making the pink flesh pop, but the crazy blue design ended up winning me over. I felt it gave her a more alien appearance (though this grey one could be considered more Alien, har har!) and made her stand out a lot more. Quite the cavalcade of failures, but I am sure they won't be the last!

#monster #creatures #art #drawing #failed designs

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housebeleren · 4 years

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Theros Beyond Death New Commanders

Theros is a world full of flavor, and with lots of flavor come lots of great Legendary Creatures. And boy, Wizards didn’t skimp this time around did they? Several of the Gods from original Theros are still among the best Commanders to this day, and most of the rest are staples in the 99. So it should come as no surprise that this crop of cards is a treasure trove of goodies. I imagine a huge number of these will be heavily played for years to come.

Let’s go.

As usual, I’ll start with the Buy-a-Box promo. Athreos seems pretty solid. He’s super expensive to get out, but the good news is he’s Indestructible, so barring transformation effects & exile, he’s going to stick around long enough to get value. He seems like a really solid option if you’re looking for a W/B aristocrats general, especially if you want to play with good ETB effects. The added bonus here is he can occasionally steal your opponent’s creatures too, which gives him an added dimension over a lot of otherwise similar options. I also suspect a lot of people will misread the “dies or is put into exile” text, with much frustration.

In Brawl, Athreos is close to busted, as there are so few ways to deal with him and he generates such insane value. You basically have to be fast and go under him or find creative ways to win, because he’s going to build up a massive board state really fast. And there are so few board wipes to clean up. In short, a solid choice for EDH, and a bonkers choice for Brawl.

I mean, who are we kidding? Blue/Green is the best 2-color combination in EDH, and it wins through its ability to make tons of mana and draw tons of cards. And Uro...... ramps and draws cards. Yeah, seems like a good effect to have in the Command Zone. For a more 75% direction, you can focus on the thematic direction of the “Nature’s Wrath”. Which is what I’m going to build, personally. Lots of ramp into big Giants & Elementals for stompy stompy wins. And I like that Uro can lend himself to strategies up & down the spectrum, so he’ll appeal to all types of players. Though it’s highly possible the competitive scene will ruin it by creating some busted version of this deck and putting a target on our backs.

In Brawl, this seems equally busted, because it’s not like there’s anything you can do in Standard with piles of mana in Blue & Green, is there? Not at all.

Kroxa is really cool design. Feels perfect for the colors, but still something a little different and unique. The more competitive community immediately jumped on this as a Worldgorger/Animate Dead build, since he works as a built-in win-con for the combo, but it’s also quite possible to build a solid R/B punisher deck around this. There are also the all-in discard builds, but that seems particularly miserable, and unnecessary, since it’s super easy to get tons of activates off Kroxa himself, with the help of some reanimation effects.

For Brawl, I’d build this as a Red/Black control deck, using Kroxa to strip the opponent’s hand, clearing the board with removal, and eventually winning either with Kroxa as a massive beater, or with some of the strong planeswalkers in the color pair (of which there are several). For what it’s worth, the correct play pattern is basically always to cast Kroxa the first time, let him go to the Command Zone, then cast him from there for 4 before saving him in the graveyard for Escaping.

Polukranos looks like mostly a Standard powerhouse, at first glance. But the more time I spend with it, the more I’m convinced it would make a pretty solid Commander inclusion as well. If you’re building with Polukranos at the helm, you’ll want plenty of library filter & self-mill effects, as well as plenty of recursion. It’s often fine to just keep reanimating him as a 6/6 removal engine, but the Escape is there as well in case you need. Some ways to add extra counters to him seem good as well, and there are a plethora of those in these colors, particularly Green, go figure. He’d also be good in the 99 of other +1/+1 counters decks, as a good payoff when you need.

Seems good in Brawl.

Klothys seems likely to be way better than people are likely to expect. The closest comparison I can think of is actually Pharika, but with the added potential to ramp you and incidentally hate on more than just Creatures, all for no additional investment than your initial 3 mana. The immediate concept that springs to mind is actually Land Destruction, which is a kinda dick way to go, but probably quite effective. She’s an interesting card, and lends herself to very creative deckbuilding, rather than having an obvious build, and I always appreciate that.

For Brawl, you really can just build this as Red/Green good stuff, and it’ll work. Enough cards will naturally end up in the graveyard to fuel her ability and turn her into a completely viable clock on your opponents.

Purphoros seems nuts in EDH. Mono-Red typically isn’t great (unless you’re going full Artifact mode), so I actually envision Purphoros in the 99 of other Sneak Attack style decks for added redundancy. He’ll be a pretty obvious inclusion in Gruul & Jund sacrifice decks, particularly those that focus reanimating big fatties for massive swings.

In Brawl, there are some good options. Drakuseth comes to mind as a natural pairing with this, and there are definitely some other good targets to cheat out, but it’s unlikely he’ll beat out Torbrand as the mono-Red general of choice, particularly for 1v1, where that card is able to close out games ridiculously fast.

Nylea is likely going to get a lot of flack, compared to the other Gods, where she’s less obviously busted. That said, she strikes me as a pretty viable option for a creature heavy build, along the lines of what you might build for Yeva, Nature’s Herald. The cost reduction is relevant, and could be pretty gross at the helm of Elfball as well. She’s also a reasonable option for a Primal Surge deck, so I actually think there are plenty of possible directions you can go, and people will slowly figure that out.

For Brawl, my guess is Nissa, Who Shakes the World is still the best.

Heliod has already attracted tons of attention for the instant combo with with Walking Ballista, and having one half of a two card combo in your Command Zone is not a bad way to start. Beyond that, as far as mono-White generals go, Heliod has a lot more potential than some. He can grow into a massive threat very quickly, and partners perfectly with a the plethora of life-gain payoffs in the color. He’s also a shoe-in for lifegain Generals like Ayli & Karlov, so he’d work great in the 99 of several decks.

In Brawl, you have several good options to fill up the deck, but it’ll be tough to be a better aggro deck than Red, and White just doesn’t have the staying power for the long game, so I’m expecting most of the other Gods to be better.

Oooh Thassa baby, it’s so good to see you again! I love that they took this to another direction from the original card, but it’s still interesting and fun. My immediate thought here wasn’t actually to make a flicker deck, but to make a stealing deck, since they templated her in the style of Conjurer’s Closet, where the card doesn’t return under its owner’s control, but back under your control. Meaning, if you steal something with something like Willbreaker or Roil Elemental, you get to keep them! This also makes her a great inclusion in the 99 of stealing commanders like Sen Triplets or Rubinia Soulsinger. Or, y’know... put her in a flicker deck.

In Brawl, Thass is pretty great, since there are some amazing things to blink with her. Most notably is Agent of Treachery, and it shouldn’t be hard at all to close out the game after landing that.

Erebos is here to serve, and I am loving this design. In an aristocrats deck, this version is arguably better than OG Erebos, and that’s saying a lot. But the original version will do better in just any ole Black deck. As a Commander, you definitely want to build this around cheap value creatures you can sacrifice for extra value. There’s no shortage of good mono-Black generals, so build around this one if you really love the flavor.

For Brawl, it’s tough to say if Ayara or Erebos is better, but you’ll definitely want both in each other’s deck.

On to the Rare legends, we start with Atris. I love me some Fact or Fiction, but I need just a little more oomph to be a Legend worth building around. Might be a fun inclusion in a flicker deck, but I doubt anyone’s going to be clamoring to build an Atris deck. Even in Brawl, where there are plenty of better & more interesting Blue/Black generals. (Ashiok & Lazav come to mind immediately.)

There’s no shortage of Red/Blue Artifact-based commanders, so Dalakos has some tough competition. My guess is there are still some stronger options, but Dalakos has a unique angle by caring about Equipment, which is typically more of a White-aligned Artifact direction. So there’s definitely an interesting build here, probably for 75% tables. In more competitive decks, I could see Dalakos seeing play in plenty of Artifact builds.

I’m not sure if there’s enough good Equipment in Standard to make Dalakos worth building around in Brawl, but we’ll see as future sets come out if there’s anything spicy that makes this worth building.

Gallia is loads of fun. She gives support to an underserved tribe, has a card advantage ability that feels very fun & appropriate for the color pair, and is just some fantastic art to boot. It’s unlikely that this will be a particularly competitive deck, but fans of Satyrs and casual aggro will rejoice, and rightfully so. In Brawl, she’s much more impressive from a power standpoint, and will likely be a popular choice from this set.

Haktos is a super creative design, and one of the best top-down flavor wins of the set. (Not to mention fine AF.) In EDH, he’s a very clear Voltron commander, since he is close to unblockable and dodges most spot removal. That said, you can’t reliably equip or enchant him, so cards that buff him up generally will be staples in this deck. I’d look to cards like Bastion Protector and Bloodsworn Steward, which can put him in the key 7+ power range without an issue, and plenty of spot removal to get rid of pesky blockers that happen to fall on the chosen number. And of course, in those colors you’re also probably going to go for some extra combat effects. It’s unlikely to be super competitive, but honestly this deck seems like a ton of fun.

For Brawl, he’s solid in 1v1, but I don’t love him for multiplayer because there will be more creatures and removal around in the 2-4 CMC range than in EDH, so he may be even easier to deal with. Sometimes he’ll completely run away with the game, but he’s such an obvious target that he’ll just get removed over and over again.

Kunoros has a lot going on for 3 mana, but there’s not much to build around here. It’s basically a hatebear for Graveyard-heavy metas, but in White/Black that’s probably actually more of a liability than a feature, since you lose out on powerhouse cards like Karmic Guide and Sun Titan. I suppose Graveyard to Hand still works, so cards like Ravos are still on the table, but it seems like more trouble than it’s worth.

Same story for Brawl. In both formats, I see him as a role-player hatebear in the 99 of decks that want to disrupt as it grinds to a win.

I’m always for a new tribe getting a Legendary creature, though who’s aching to build a harpy deck, I have no idea. It’s also tough because Black is not a particularly strong Enchantment color, so I really don’t know if there’s a deck here. (Watch me get this as a random build one month.) My best use case for Aphemia would be in the 99 of an Enchantment deck like Daxos the Returned or something.

Spiders are also a fun, unique tribe, though you definitely want Black to make the best use of them. Arasta, again, seems like there’s not much of a build here except as an incidental hoser against all-spell decks. Maybe if your meta is all Talrand decks?

Taranika is a cool design, and phenomenal in Limited, but yeah there just isn’t enough here for EDH, even in the 99. Maybe she’ll be an inclusion in the 59 for Brawl? But that’s really as much as I can possibly see here.

Of the mono color Rare Legends, Thryx is the only one with real EDH potential, from what I can see. He has Flash, so you can hold up counterspells, which is exactly what mono-Blue wants to do. And from there, he lets you cast massive spells at a bit of a discount, and has incidental “can’t be countered” text against opposing Blue manges, which is a fair amount of action. I’m considering him for the 99 of my Grixis Vial Smasher deck, since that deck wants to cast all kinds of big dumb spells.

Seems like there are better mono Blue options for Brawl, however.

On to the Uncommons. There isn’t going to be a lot here for Commander, since these are mostly balanced for Limited play. Eutropia is a bit interesting, and there are some possibilities. She’s in the best EDH colors, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to conceive of a way to generate a ton of mana, use Deadeye Navigator to flicker an Enchantment Creature a bunch of times, then swing for lethal. There are certainly better Green/Blue generals, but honestly that’s a lot of action for an Uncommon. In the 99, I could see her in various Enchantress style builds as a fun flavorful inclusion.

There are no shortage of powerhouse Green/Blue options for Brawl, but Eutropia could be a fun experiment to take in a different direction than you would Uro, Vannifar, or Kiora.

Siona is a super interesting design, as an Aura buildaround. Of course, the hotness here is that she immediately goes infinite with Shielded by Faith, which gives her way more viability than she would otherwise. Throw in a Concordant Crossroads and you have an insta-win, and they’re all super easily tutored pieces in these colors. There’s also potential just as an inclusion in the 99 of decks that run lots of Auras, like Uril or something.

In Brawl, this could be a really fun aggro deck for 1v1, though I think it’ll be a struggle in multiplayer.

The monocolor Uncommon Legends all basically have no viability as Commanders, so I’ll do these Lightning Round style.

Anax - Could be an inclusion in the 99 of certain OG Purphoros builds or other Red decks that want lots of tokens.

Renata - There are some decks that really care about Counters that I suppose this works in. She’s really cute with Persist, but you’ll need more colors to be able to make use of the really good Persist cards.

Daxos - Daxos is doing his best Soul Sister impression, and it’s really working. I’d slot him into any decks that want that effect, especially since many of them are White/Black with sacrifice outlets as well.

Callaphe - Probably the weakest of the bunch. Maaaayyybe possible in a mono Blue devotion deck? But I’m not suspecting this will see any play.

Tymaret - For the most part a pretty strict upgrade over Withered Wretch, not counting Zombie synergies. The Wretch is a card I run more than a lot of people do, and I see myself running this for similar reasons.

Alirios - The dream here is to flicker him multiple times and get an army of reflections. It’s possible in a heavy flicker deck like Brago or something, but it’s not enough to run him on his own.

And finally, the Planeswalkers for Brawl. Ashiok strikes me as particularly good as a Blue/Black control build. It should be pretty easy to keep the board clear early until you drop Ashiok, then the incremental value will be overwhelming pretty quickly.

You best believe I built this deck, and it is fire. There are so many good Enchantments legal right now that it’s trivial to put together a pretty solid build. The best part is, a lot of the good removal in White are Enchantments anyway, so you can often use his +1 to find removal, without having to tick him down. This deck has been a ton of fun, and it goes toe-to-toe with a lot of the best decks really well.

While a powerhouse for Standard, Elspeth isn’t quite priced to move for Brawl. There are just other, most powerful options. I’d generally run Heliod instead, and include Elspeth in the 59 if you really want.

Usually the Planeswalker Deck cards are awful, but this Ashiok isn’t half bad. It’s a fun Blue/Black reanimation deck, and I enjoy that. It’s unfortunate you can’t activate her -5 right away, which is the real thing holding this back. Lazav is probably better as a Blue/Black creature build, but I could actually see this.

And finally, Planeswalker Deck Elspeth. Honestly, I’d rather run this as my mono-White general than Sun’s Nemesis, since there’s a pretty solid Devotion build to be made. Not saying it’s good or anything, but it’s actually probably better than the main-set version, and that’s saying something.

Okay! That’s all the Legends from Theros Beyond Death. There are honestly too many of them, it’s hard to keep up! I’m building Uro for EDH and Calix for Brawl. What about you?

#MtG #theros beyond death

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