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supermanshield · 4 years

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A Weekend in Smallville

Summary: Amid a town coming together in the aftermath of an alien invasion, Bruce meets Lana, learns a little bit more about Clark, and reflects on his place in Clark’s life and rural Kansas.

Or: Bruce in Smallville. Goes about as well as you'd expect.

Words: 7,217

Rating: Teen and up for like one swear word and mentions of sex.

Read on AO3 or continue reading here!

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Dinner had been put away and Bruce had once again taken his place at the table, papers and laptop laid out in front of him. Various people from town, and eventually some Leaguers (and shouldn’t that raise some suspicion? No one paid attention here) had been walking in and out all day to get a bite to eat. The old wooden floorboards were littered with dusty footsteps, but Martha Kent was on the couch, too exhausted from providing for everyone all day long. Jonathan wasn’t much better off after driving around town and helping his neighbors. Bruce would sweep up the dust for them when he was done working and before he flew back for the night.

“We’ve rebuilt what we can right now, with the available materials. It’s not much, but at least people will be able to sleep in their own home right now.” He must be tired too if Clark could sneak up on him like that.

“It’s something,” he sighed. “I’ve been on the phone with contractors all day to procure the necessary materials and workforce. The more elaborate structures might be repaired within the month.”

Clark grabbed a glass of water and slumped down in the chair across from Bruce. Even he seemed tired, which should be impossible, but seeing your hometown in shambles and its people in distress all day will do that. Even to Superman.

“Rest of the League?” Bruce asked.

“Barry and Hal helped all day. They went back home just now. J’onn went back to the watchtower and Diana had other matters to attend to.”

Bruce nodded. It was time he got back to Gotham as well. With a bit of luck, he could charter a jet to fly back tonight and still get a couple hours of patrol in. He told Clark as much and started putting away his papers, but Clark grabbed his hand when he went to close the laptop. “Bruce, wait… It’s Friday, why don’t you stay the weekend?”

A weekend in Kansas, with nothing to do but help at the farm… While he loved the Kents, that wasn’t Bruce’s idea of a productive time. They still had to figure out what had led the aliens to Smallville of all places, and what they wanted. No, he could be of much more use elsewhere.

Before Bruce could reply though, Jonathan shot over his shoulder from where he was sitting in the living room, “We got that queen size bed for your room, Clark,” and Martha added, “You’re more than welcome to stay, Bruce dear.”

Great. Clark looked at him expectantly, still holding his hand. “It’ll be fun. And wouldn’t it be easier to start investigating here what those aliens wanted?” Clark knew exactly what to say to keep him around. He had other obligations, though.

“You know I can’t.”

“Aww, come on, Dick and Tim can watch over Gotham. And they’ll have backup from Cass, the Birds of Prey…” Clark’s voice faded, his eyes drifting down. “And you have to let those ribs heal properly. Finally.”

Something in Clark’s voice said he would just keep Bruce here if he threatened to fly back tonight. Bruce sighed. The only appealing thing about the queen size bed was the fact that he and Clark didn’t have to literally sleep in each other’s arms all night like before. Although it was going to be another warm night so he might just kick Clark out anyway. He could sleep floating in the air for all he cared.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll just have to make some phone calls to set things in motion back home.”

---

The new queen bed stood proudly in the middle of Clark’s small room, with Clark seated on the edge now, observing Bruce put his things away and taking off his jacket. At least Alfred had packed one extra set of clothes.

When he was done, he turned around and looked at Clark, who looked as if he was debating a life or death situation, and as always, Bruce wondered what he would ask. It didn’t take long.

“Wanna go out tonight? Have you ever been to a real midwestern bar?” Bruce only knew of one bar in Smallville, and it was in no condition to operate right now. Still, he felt a vague sense of excitement at Clark asking him out in his hometown. They hadn’t done that before. Every time they had been in Smallville together so far had been for something serious. Clark’s parents, Clark’s temporary loss of powers, Kara, Conner, and even once for Damian, to recover from a nasty concussion.

“It’s open? Didn’t half the roof and the back wall get blown up?” he asked Clark.

“Already boarded up. And yeah, there’s a lot of people there. Something about celebrating your whole town surviving an intergalactic attack, maybe, who knows.” Clark shrugged.

“Hmm. They got karaoke?”

Clark’s eyes shot wide open. “Yeah!”

“One of those bull-riding things? Because I would beat the crap out of everyone.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but no. There’s another bull you can ride though,” Clark grinned and hooked his fingers through Bruce’s belt loops to pull him close. He felt his heartrate spike and really, this is why they should’ve just gone back to Gotham.

“Not here.”

“Jeez, no, of course not.” Clark kept looking up at him though, still waiting for an answer. He was truly tired, but also mildly curious to Smallville nightlife. If anything, Clark would make it more fun. Maybe he could beat him at pool or darts or something, and then maybe they could make everyone and themselves believe that they were normal and just have an average date night out.

“Alright, just not too long. And I’m gonna beat you at whatever bar games they got,” Bruce grinned.

“At karaoke?”

“Maybe we’ll do a duet, who knows,” He winked and freed himself from Clark’s grasp. The other man stood up and hooked his arm through Bruce’s offered one. “What say you, Clarkie? Let’s get to that bar o’ yours,” he continued in his worst midwestern accent.

“Not like that you aren’t. You’ll stand out way too much in your dress shirt and Armani pants.” To his horror, Clark turned around towards the closet in the corner of the room. Oh no, whatever he kept here was probably worse than the rainbow cacophony of shirts he had in Metropolis.

“Short sleeves or long? It’s pretty warm.”

Bruce debated his options. Better get this over with quick and hopefully painless. “Long, and I’m keeping the pants. I am not wearing your old jeans.”

Clark threw a shirt at him. “This one has the most black I think.” It had black alright. And red. Straight-up lumberjack. At least the fabric felt nice. “I’ve also got an old blue and white Henley, but it’s pretty worn down. What do you think?”

“I’ll go with the lumberjack,” Bruce mumbled.

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"Lana, Pete! How are you?" Clark hugged his friends in the middle of a loud, crowded bar, filled with the continuous strings and drums of country music. They had been here for just over an hour and Bruce was on his second beer, something he didn’t do all that often. They kept getting interrupted by people that knew Clark, and Bruce was enjoying himself less and less. Lana he hadn’t met before yet, though, and he had to admit to a quiet curiosity, with the way Clark talked about her and all. (Clark’s enthusiastic ‘My friends are your friends’ from earlier rang in his ears and he forced his mouth into a smile. He would do anything for that man.) His train of thought got interrupted by Clark’s warm hand on his shoulder. "This is Bruce!"

Lana was dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt that didn’t completely cover her shoulders, her auburn curls doing that instead. Bruce grabbed her hand to shake it, but it got answered swiftly by a peck on his cheek. He introduced himself to Pete as well, a scrawny guy, who was somehow allowed to wear a crisp white dress shirt, unlike Bruce. He was starting to feel like maybe Clark had played him and shot him an accusatory look.

Lana turned back to Clark. "We came over as soon as we heard you were in town! Couldn't pass up the opportunity you know?"

"Great to see you Clark,” Pete joined in. “And, you know, Smallville could really use some extra hands right now.”

Clark laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, gee, what did you guys get yourselves into this time?” Before the alien invasion became the talk of the day, he quickly changed the topic. "How's little Clark?"

"He's great! We’re lucky we could get a babysitter this late, but... Are you still here tomorrow? You should come by to see him!"

"We’d love to, yes.”

The conversation carried on for a while, as Clark and his friends obviously had a lot to catch up on. Bruce felt strangely intruding. He considered to start looking for that darts game, right as Lana turned to him.

"So, Bruce, how are you? You from around here?"

"Gotham.”

"Oh, one of Clark’s city friends! What's it you're doing all the way out here?"

"Bruce is my boyfriend," Clark said and grabbed his hand.

"Oh, Clark... Really? That's awesome!" She turned to Bruce. "I've heard him drop the name a couple times… Didn't know you were so handsome!"

"And I'm a billionaire, too!" Bruce chimed, automatically kicking into Brucie mode. Clark rolled his eyes.

“Wait? Bruce Wayne? The Gotham pl… philanthropist?”

“That’s me.”

Lana’s whistle got lost in the music, but the look she sent Clark said it all. "Wow, Clark, not becoming a gold-digger are we...?" Clark put up his hands in defense, but she continued quickly. "How did you two meet again?" Clark’s flat "work" got lost in the music too, and Bruce didn't hear anymore after that, because he could see the wheels turning in Lana’s head as she turned back to Clark and made some joke about journalistic integrity. Her whole expression had changed though, and Bruce turned away from the bar to start walking towards the exit. Fresh air. Did he make a mistake? Slip up? Maybe it was the beer. He needed fresh air. The door was too far and it took too long to push through everyone, but eventually the stars looked down at him, the door slammed shut and the music got abruptly replaced by late-night Kansas silence.

Bruce looked around himself and quickly regained control of his breathing. The parking lot was half-empty, Clark’s beat up truck tucked away in the far corner. He’d be out here soon. He was probably making excuses to Lana and Pete right now to start looking for Bruce.

It wasn’t long before he heard the old rusty door slam shut again.

“She knows.” The calm in his own voice surprised Bruce.

Clark walked up to him. “She's the first person I ever told."

"You saw the look in her eyes, she's putting one and one together right now, and I…"

“Bruce, stop. You don’t know that, and besides, I trust Lana.”

“You could have at least told me, warned me.” Trust was a burden in Bruce’s life, and an unnecessary slip-up had revealed who he was. He should have asked Clark who they could have run into, a stupid mistake. "I'm walking back to the farm," he said resolutely.

“Hey, what? It’s fine. Stay.” Clark grabbed his hand, but Bruce quickly pulled away. He really didn’t have time for this.

“I’m done here. This was a mistake,” he bit back, and turned around to start walking towards the exit of the parking lot.

"At least take my car? Bruce?"

"No."

Clark was beside him before he could blink. "Bruce."

"I'm walking to the farm and taking my car back to the airport and to Gotham. I'll have Alfred prepare some documents and have a hefty sum of money send Lana's way."

“What? Bruce, baby no, you don't have to do that,” Clarks hand were on his shoulders and he was forced to look straight into those blue eyes. Unobscured by glasses. Idiot. “Lana is my oldest friend. I trust her. Look, I’m sorry this happened. But maybe she hasn’t figured it out and we can still…”

“It’s too late for that. All I can do now is make sure nothing else gets compromised.”

“For fucks sake, Bruce, I’m trying to tell you, it won’t.”

“Until it will.”

Clark let out a huff of breath and closed his eyes. “At least talk to her.”

If it were anyone other than Clark, he would have just walked away. But alas, here he was, with Clark in front of him. The only man that could convince him to do something as ridiculous as wearing a lumberjack to a midwestern bar, and reason his way into Bruce’s mind just like he had wiggled his way into Bruce’s heart. Bruce crossed his arms. “Fine.”

“Good.”

“I’m still walking back to the farm.”

“No karaoke?”

“Forget it, Clark.”

“Ok, whatever, you’re tired. Get some rest. I’m gonna hang around here a bit longer. Here,” Clark pressed his car keys into Bruce’s hands and kissed him on the cheek.

When Clark was back inside the bar, Bruce debated walking back anyway and tossing the keys somewhere in a field for Clark to find. Exhaustion soon enough took over his anger though, and the adrenaline dissipated. Clark should consider himself lucky.

---

Clark’s ‘I’m sorry’ and chaste kiss on his forehead woke him up briefly barely an hour after he’d gone to bed.

“Still mad.”

He heard Clark flop on to his back and chuckle quietly. “And still here.”

“Quite the observation you made there.”

“Well, I learned from the best.”

“Obviously.”

Whatever Clark said after that was lost on him, and he turned around again to face the other way and closed his eyes.

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The next morning, as Bruce walked down the creaky stairs, hair still damp from his shower, the smell of fresh coffee approached him pleasantly. There was a lot more work to do in town, so Bruce had really made an effort to get up early, but he still found Clark at the kitchen table with a half-eaten stack of pancakes before him. There was toast, yoghurt and fruit laid out for Bruce. Martha knew him well.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” he asked Clark as he took his seat. Jonathan walked in through the kitchen door, his brow already covered in sweat.

“Dang dust is making it so much harder to clean,” he said as he wiped his handkerchief over his forehead.

“Oh shush Jonathan, you need to eat something and drink plenty water. The boys will be there to help soon.”

“I’m staying all week, pa,” Clark clarified.

“Alright,” Jonathan said after he gulped down his water. “Just came back to get some more tools.” Martha walked him to the door and Bruce heard her say to slow it down, especially in this heat and Jonathan’s yes, yes you know me probably sounded funny to himself, but clearly not to Martha.

Clark looked at him over the cup of coffee he was pouring for Bruce. “So I take it you’re staying?”

“If you’ll have me, yes.” He still wasn’t sure how to feel about what happened last night. It seemed like something so avoidable, something Damian would definitely pin on him for being careless. And his son would be right. As much as he wanted to blame Clark, it was largely his own fault. The wrinkles disappeared from Clark’s face as he smiled and passed him the coffee.

“J’onn contacted me about the aliens this morning. They’re Zandrian. He’s been interrogating them, and it seems as if they were looking for some signal here.”

Here, as in Smallville. “Your Kryptonian ship.”

“Most likely, yes.”

“And why is it still here?”

Clark swallowed his bite. “Thought it was harmless. It’s never sent out any kind of signal, not now either. Nothing I can sense at least.”

“Radiation?”

“Perhaps. So, that’s what we’re doing today. I’m taking the ship to the north pole and I wanted to ask you if you could take a look at the barn.”

That sounded like a plan. Something where Bruce could be useful. “Okay. I’ll need some instruments from the cave though.”

“I’ll pick up whatever you need. But first… Baby time!” Clark grinned. Bruce nearly choked on his coffee. “Eat your breakfast. Lana’s expecting us.” Clark got up and started putting things away, clearly way too excited for this.

“I have to see her right now?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He quickly drank the rest of his coffee. “The sooner, the better.”

“No scary batshit, Bruce,” Clark pointed a finger at him. “We’re there for the baby.”

---

Lana and Pete’s place was another old farmhouse, not too far from the Kent’s, so they walked there. Lana inherited it from her aunt after having lived with her most of her life, Clark told him. Bruce had sweat stains under his arm by the time they reached the house. Maybe he should have opted for one of Clark’s t-shirts and ugly cargo shorts today.

The breeze blowing through Lana’s living room and being out of the sun helped though, and Lana served them lemonade with ice cubes. Bruce sat down on a chair and Clark took his place on the large couch.

“I’m sorry Pete couldn’t be here, you know how he is with the store.”

“Is it bad? We can go help if he needs,” Clark offered, verging on apologetic.

“He’ll be fine. I’m sure you both have more important matters to attend to.” She looked at Bruce when she said it, and he cleared his throat.

“Just. Make sure he asks if he needs. We can provide,” He settled on, hoarsely. The bat was barely audible in his voice and Clark should be proud. He nodded at him from where he was sitting on the couch. It could wait.

They got startled by a baby’s cries, and Lana disappeared out of the living room. She came back in with Clark (the name still irked Bruce, even though Clark had told him the child wasn’t named after him but after Martha’s maiden name – because yes, that made it less weird somehow). “Look who’s awake!”

The child on Lana’s arm looked around drowsily, clearly unsure how to feel after waking up from his nap and being greeted by two strange men.

Clark reached out his hands and Lana placed the baby in his lap. Bruce knew he was around 5 months old. Clark had been there for the birth but hadn’t had much opportunity to see him after that. Lana sent him many pictures and videos though, that Clark would show Bruce late at night in bed, and they would laugh at the child’s antics and giggles. The learning curve of young people was incredible.

The child was slowly waking up in Clark’s arms and started making more sound. Not crying, he was content, and Bruce wondered if he knew instinctively that Clark’s arms were the safest place on earth. “He likes me,” Clark grinned up at Lana when the baby grabbed his fingers.

“Of course.”

Bruce felt stuck in place, captivated by the sight. Clark looked so incredibly at home, so natural with a child in his arms that held on to Clark’s pointer finger with a force as if he did it every day and was decidedly not named after Clark. Bruce quickly swallowed around the lump forming in his throat before his thoughts would betray him anymore and moved from his chair over to the couch to sit next to Clark.

When Lana walked back into the living room with pie, she took a picture of them, and that would probably make this day a lot harder to look back on later, but right now Bruce didn’t care. The baby was on Clark’s lap, looking up at both of them and laughing. Definitely at Clark sticking out his tongue and making cooing sounds. Bruce didn’t do that. Until he found himself mimicking the baby and trying to get him to laugh. Damn mirror-reflexes.

He tried not to think about what he had missed out on with Damian. What Damian had missed out on. Instead he put a hand on Clark’s back, and held it there while they both continued to make ridiculous sounds and faces at little Clark.

---

When Clark left to take the rocket ship to the North Pole, Bruce went to work on the barn. Though, not before he did change into Clark’s old Henley and cargo shorts. Alfred would kill him if he got any more dust on his nice clothes.

The hatch in the floor of the barn was open, and the space underneath now empty. There had been some radiation coming off of the ship itself, but it was faint and not nearly enough to hurt anyone. Bruce doubted he would find any more in the rest of the barn, and considered other forms of signals the aliens could have picked up. Lower frequency wave lengths, maybe.

Nonetheless, he went around the hole in the ground methodically, scanning every scrap piece of metal, rock, and dirt. He swept it clean too, and took any tools that were still there out to examine them later in the barn. There was a large box, all the way at the back, that he skipped at first, but knew he eventually had to get back to as well. Getting it out was no problem, he could lift it over his head and slide it onto the barn floor easily, but he had a feeling what might be in there.

After cleaning the other tools and logging anything of interest he could find on the metal and rocks, he went back to the box and opened it. Sitting on the floor, he stared down at pictures of Clark, a baseball and bat, scrap of red fabric, a pair of extremely worn down and no-longer-white converse.

“Haven’t seen that thing in a while.” Jonathan’s voice startled Bruce as he walked into the barn and took his cap off.

“Hmm. Sorry, I was cleaning, we thought…”

“I know. You don’t have to apologize. I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

“What happened to the baseball?” Bruce held up the ball, split clear in half and its threads loose.

“Was the first one Clark hit clear across Smallville. I looked for it for six months on the other side of town,” Jonathan answers proudly. “The shoes are from when he first outran the car.”

“That must’ve been something,” Bruce huffed. He got up. “So this is a reminder. Of what he can do.”

“Oh, I don’t need to be reminded of that,” Jonathan Laughed. “But I kept the memories because I knew he could never belong to us. Never belong here. He belongs to everyone, out there.”

Bruce thought about that. In Smallville, Clark was clearly at home. “I don’t know. I think he belongs right here, in the center of it all. I haven’t seen him so relaxed and… happy in a long time.”

“Bruce, son. As much as Clark is still a small-town boy - and will never not be -, I know he is happy right where he’s supposed to be, with you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he told me.”

As Jonathan left the barn again, Bruce felt in the back of his mind the creeping feeling that he could never give Clark what he had left behind here. That he could never be what Clark truly wanted. Because as much as he hated Smallville’s openness and missed the gothic stoicism of Gotham, this place was everything Clark stood for. It was everything Bruce was not. Somehow, somewhere along the way, a mistake had been made, one that Bruce would have already undone were he a stronger and less selfish man.

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Bruce would never tell the man as much, but Martha’s sandwiches were far superior to Alfred’s. Maybe it had something to do with working outside all day that made the sandwiches waiting for him taste just that much better.

He had considered multiple times during the day to beam up to the watchtower, but he didn’t have his suit, and finally settled on just contacting J’onn about his progress with the aliens and the mediocre findings of his work in the barn. Maybe it could help, as J’onn was still in contact with the creatures after they had quickly been escorted away by the Green Lanterns. Hopefully, some negotiations were all that was needed to keep them away.

---

As the day progressed, and Clark didn’t return, Bruce worked himself to a sweat multiple times. In Smallville, he wasn’t expected to be Brucie Wayne, because no one knew who that was. But he wasn’t Batman either. It was as if he was back in training, another nobody working long days in the sun, sweat forming a sheen on his skin, and exhaustion putting him to sleep in the afternoon heat on the porch. No, he decided, this was as far from his training days as possible, and allowed himself to relax.

As the sun started setting, he ended up in the kitchen with Martha to prepare dinner. She knew he wasn’t very skilled around the stove – courtesy of Alfred’s warnings -, so he was put on vegetable cutting duty. That was fine. He used to do it all the time with Alfred as a child and still did sometimes. The methodical slicing of the bell peppers, potatoes and onions kept him focused and calmed him down.

Just as dinner was almost done and they were cleaning up the kitchen, a familiar sound followed by creaking floorboards and the opening of the screen door made Martha jump. Bruce smiled. Maybe the smell of dinner had made Clark fly back a little faster.

“Oh, Jonathan! He’s back!” Martha shouted while putting her tea towel down and practically skipping towards the screen door. “Hey, ma. Pa,” Bruce heard from his place in the kitchen.

“Are you okay? We got worried, you stayed away so long…”

“I’m fine, ma. Just some miners in South-Africa that got stuck.”

“Told you the boy was fine, Martha.”

Bruce washed his hands and was drying them when he walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway, where an adult, 6 foot 3 tall man in a Superman suit was hugging his aging and tired parents. Bruce felt painfully out of place, but it quickly subsided when Clark looked up at him. “Hey. Little detour there.”

“So I heard.”

Clark walked over to him and kissed him chastely on the lips. It was the kind of kiss you give your significant other in front of your parents or your children, or when you return home from work after a long day. A type of kiss they had shared many times, to the children’s (and especially Damian’s) horror, but that here, in Smallville, made Bruce feel as if they were normal. As if they could be normal. As if he always helped Clark’s mom with dinner and worked long hours in the sun with his dad. Though, as quickly as the kiss ended, the feeling fleeted and Bruce felt like himself again. They broke apart and Clark looked him up and down.

“You look dashing in that ensemble Bruce, who picked that for you?”

Right. He was still wearing the Henley. And the ugly shorts. A pair of his own limited edition and now-brown sneakers to top it off. “Oh, thank you, just a simple get-up I found in the dumpster here.” He made his way over to the stairs, and Clark followed him with a grin.

“You boys be down soon, dinner is ready and I’m setting the table outside,” Martha warned as they made their way upstairs.

In Clark’s small bedroom, they both changed into something more appropriate, and Clark combed down his wind-swept hair. Bruce turned to look at him and waited for him to be done.

“Your ship?”

“Buried it next to the Fortress.” Bruce nodded approvingly. Clark set down the comb, but as he did so he stared out the window into seemingly nothing, his brows furrowed and drawn together. The miners. Bruce walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Clark sighed, but still pulled Bruce into a hug. “Thanks for asking.”

Clark hugged him with an intensity that made it clear that it was needed much more than the kiss from before. “Just… It was stressful,” he sighed. “Those miners. I couldn’t just drill them out, it took hours.”

Bruce nodded and angled his face towards the crook of Clark’s neck. He smelled like dust and a vague hint of sea-salt, and definitely needed a shower, but the crisp clean t-shirt was all Martha’s laundry detergent. As they stood, Bruce felt the tension leave Clark’s shoulders and his grip loosen, and he looked back up at him. Clark’s eyes had regained their usual shade of blue and the lines had disappeared from his forehead.

Bruce tried a smile and grabbed Clark’s hand. “Come. Dinner’s waiting.”

---

After dinner, Clark somehow got them excused from doing dishes and took Bruce by his hand out into the garden, and to the barn. Bruce thought about telling him about the box he found, but didn’t. Instead, Clark asked if he wanted to for a walk and grabbed a picnic blanket.

Their walk was laced only with the sound of cicadas, and took them away from the farm uphill where the low grass gave way to bushes and trees. They stopped at the top of the hill.

“I don’t know why it is you’re taking me here,” Bruce said as Clark laid down the blanket on a patch of very dry grass.

“I thought we could enjoy the night together. Just the two of us.” Clark’s smile was much too innocent as he sat down and patted beside him for Bruce to sit.

“We had a fight.”

“Yes. And I love you. Please tell me you haven’t been thinking about that all day. I thought we were okay just now.”

Bruce sighed. “My secret identity got exposed. I’m not okay with that.”

“You wanna talk about it? Did you get a chance to talk to Lana?” Clark prompted.

“Not yet. But I’m… sorry. For the way I reacted last night.” He sat down next to Clark on the blanket.

“I’m sorry too. I should have let you know.”

“Does Pete know?”

“Yes, although he doesn’t really acknowledge it. We barely talk about it.”

Bruce huffed out a breath of air. They were surrounded by small, green trees that gave way to a view of the corn and grain fields below. The sun was inching closer to the horizon and it had finally started to cool down a little bit. Next to him Clark was looking at him, but he wasn’t sure what to say.

Clark shifted and settled behind Bruce, trapping him in between his legs and large arms, which Bruce allowed. It was painfully clear that Clark knew just what Bruce needed, and where that used to irk him to the core and make his skin crawl, he now welcomed it, leaned back, and let himself relax. It was easier to talk when you didn’t have to look the other person in the eyes.

“That should have been you, Clark,” he started. “A house in Smallville, wife, child... sometimes I don’t understand why you left this place at all.” This whole weekend felt like the first time he was really in Smallville and had seen what made Clark, Clark. A reality that he wasn’t a part of and only allowed a glimpse of, by some miracle.

“So you do like it here,” Clark said. When Bruce didn’t say anything to that, he continued: “I knew I had to give that up a long time ago. And, just between you and me, I'd say we have the most awesome family in the universe.”

“But we'll never have that. A child all our own. You could have.”

“I know,” Clark whispered into his hair. “Is that something you would have wanted? If…”

“Even if it was technically possible, the moral implications are just... I wouldn't want to bring a child into this world. Into our world,” Bruce mused out loud.

“But It is technically possible. Conner.”

“Conner is a clone. And we’re lucky we found him when we did.” He had turned into a wonderful kid, a good crimefighter even, but he had his unpredictability. They didn’t know nearly enough about his physiology, his lifespan, his unpredictable moods. Clark squeezed his hand.

“And if we were normal?”

If they were normal, Clark would have stayed in Smallville, and they would have never met. And Bruce, as a rule, did not think in hypotheticals. Not like this. Yet, he heard himself answer without hesitation. “Yes.”

“Me too,” Clark’s lips were on Bruce’s ear in a way that was not quite a kiss. It was an affirmation, taking Bruce in, this moment, his scent mixed with that of Kansas, and a gush of breath that ghosted through Bruce’s hair. Clark’s breathing was grounding, a dull constant in the midst of the song of the cicadas, the feeling of dead grass under his toes and the Kent’s old picnic blanket under his fingers. It was all wrong.

“Don’t you wonder what would have happened if you had stayed? With Lana?”

“Once or Twice, a long time ago. But I left here to find myself. I never fit in here, never really belonged here. You know that.”

“You do, though. You’re much happier here. Yourself.” Bruce turned to meet Clark’s blue eyes, the smile lines visible even on Superman’s perfect skin. “And I don’t,” he breathed in. “I don’t fit in here. With you.” The smile lines disappeared.

“Bruce… Why would you think that?”

“I feel like this is the first time I’ve ever really been in Smallville. Stopped and looked around. Like I’ve finally seen the last piece of the puzzle that is you.”

“And everything else completes it. You complete it. I belong to you.” Clark put a hand over his heart. “And you belong to me. Don’t you ever forget that.” Clark’s blue eyes under his furrowed brows pierced right into his soul, something he had discovered a long time ago he could not ignore.

In a different life, Clark might have stayed in Kansas. As it was, they had found each other elsewhere amid their hectic lives, in some twisted inescapable fate. An alignment.

“Hn. You’re still a Kansas boy at heart.”

“And you like that.” Clark’s smile was back. The one that regardless of the Kansas sun or Gotham greys or Metropolis shine brightened up his life and Bruce found himself smiling back in return.

“Can’t say that I don’t.”

“So… now that you’ve got me completely figured out…”

“Hmm?”

“Where do we go from here?”

“We have sex. That is why you brought me here, right?”

“Bruce!” Clark covered his mouth with his hand in a fake gasp. “I can’t believe you think of me that way.”

“But you did.”

“Can’t say that I didn’t,” Clark smirked, put his hand on the back of Bruce’s neck, and kissed him.

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

In the middle of the night, the queen bed was too big and Clark should be right on him, spooning him, and cooling him with freeze breath. So Bruce rolled over into his space, and Clark – half asleep – happily put his arms around him. He could be a selfish man if Clark was too.

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

On Sunday morning, the clouds started gathering and simultaneous to the electric tension of a storm building in the air, the people of Smallville let out a collective sigh. Soon, they would get some rain.

After a quiet Sunday breakfast and Clark’s parents had returned from church, it was off to town in Clark’s old truck. Jonathan had taken his newer one, full of materials and tools, and Clark and Bruce would do clean-up together and haul away rubble to a nearby depot. Main street already looked more lively than the day before, with most of the rubble gone and gathered in piles. People were walking around and making small talk, a stray door was being hung back into its hinges. The few buildings that had any structural damage had been taped of, and shattered windows had been boarded up, but the wind had picked up and blew the dust away, clearing the air and everyone’s mood.

On the way to and from the depot, Clark rolled down the windows and sung along with the songs on the radio, missing some of the words and looking over at Bruce every now and then.

He watched Clark, sunshine ever present in his skin and smile. How he was in such good spirits while literally cleaning his hometown after an alien attack was lost on Bruce. But then again, Clark was usually in a good mood if he was able to help someone. Even though he was doing it as Clark Kent now, and couldn’t use his super strength to haul stuff into the truck, or maybe because of that.

“It’s fine, B.”

Bruce hummed in response.

“I hope you had a good time here, despite everything.”

“I’m still having a good time now.” He immediately regretted saying that, because Clark mistook it for him liking his singing and continued on for the remainder of the ride. Really, it was Clark’s enthusiasm that made it tolerable. Bruce felt content to just watch, and breathed in the Kansas air, and tried to store away this memory forever.

---

When they were back in town, Clark stayed to help Pete at the store while Bruce went to the local hardware place to get some more supplies. He found what he needed and was waiting in line when he felt someone approach him from behind.

“Hey, Bruce.” He turned around to face her.

“Lana. Hello.”

“You got something that needs fixing?” she smiled at the small box of screws and plugs in his hands. He looked at the people in line behind her, all getting something, even if it was just a nail to hang up a picture that had come off the wall during the attack.

“More than one thing, I’m afraid.”

Lana huffed. “Smallville will be fine. I hope you’ve been enjoying your weekend here at least?”

“It’s been…” Eye-opening. New. Necessary. “Different,” he settled on.

“Ha! I believe that, coming from the big city and all.” That obviously wasn’t what he meant, but he assumed Lana knew that.

It was Bruce’s turn to pay. He put down a 20 and accepted his change, stepped aside to let Lana pay. “Walk with me,” he commanded when she was done. They reached Clark’s truck in the middle of the sunlit parking lot. Bruce held on to the keys in his pocket and missed the protective confining warmth of his cowl.

When Bruce didn’t say anything, Lana cleared her throat. "The way Clark talked about the bat always made me think he was in love with him. Glad to see it worked out." It was a good thing Lana was just as blunt as Clark. Something about rural Kansas, he thought. He couldn't help but feel a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

"Sorry, it just wasn't hard to connect the dots. You’re him, right?”

Without hesitation. "Yes." The things this town did to him were beyond his understanding. Small town life brought out the truth easily. Here, there were no covers required, no masks. It’s the same reason why he could have found the last piece of Clark, only here.

"Look, Bruce. I know how important the whole secret identity thing is to Clark. Think he can count on one hand the people that really know him."

"More like three hands now with my children and the league." There was that incessant tug at the corner of his mouth again.

"You're a father."

"Not in the most traditional sense of the word, but yes." He leaned against the door of the car. Lana seemed to think about that. Batman and Robin. What it implied. Bruce braced himself for the passion of a young mother, but it never came. Instead she swallowed.

“I did love Clark once, but I knew I could never be what he needed. I’m glad he found someone,” she paused. Looked up at Bruce with her brows drawn together. "Your secret is safe with me Bruce."

That was the issue, though. No secret is ever safe with anyone, because then it wasn’t a secret anymore. He gritted his teeth, swallowed. He thought of Clark, how he would put his warm hand on his shoulder if he were here right now, how he would say once again that it was fine, Lana could be trusted. Clark’s closest friend, first love, and the person that knew him best before he became who he had to be. Lana was to be trusted. Bruce sighed.

"I just need you to sign some documents, and get your contact information in case something gets compromised."

Lana nodded. "Sounds fair."

He opened the car door and climbed in. Lana put her hand on the open window. “It was nice meeting you, Bruce.”

“Likewise.” He paused. “I’ll make sure Clark gets you those documents.”

“Alright,” Lana laughed and waved at him as he started the car. He wondered how much of Clark had rubbed off on her during their childhood friendship and dating through high school. Or maybe it had been the other way around. Clark probably wouldn’t be who he was today without her, or without anyone here for that matter.

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

The jet was placed imminently in front of them, Smallville and its normalcy reduced to a memory on the far horizon. Bruce turned around and looked at Clark, his hair windswept and glasses placed awkwardly back on his nose. Here to see him off to Gotham.

“Thank you for having me.”

Clark laughed. “Thanks for staying.”

“I would almost say it would be acceptable to do this again some time.”

“Almost?”

“Well.” Bruce shrugged. “Minus the alien invasion.”

“Of course. 4th of July? Bring the kids?”

“That could turn out worse than an alien invasion,” his own laugh surprised Bruce.

“I mean… we’ll have Alfred to keep them in check,” Clark argued. “Ma would love having all of them over.”

“I’ll give it some consideration, then.”

“Hmm, so that’s a yes?” Clark grabbed his waist and brought his face close to Bruce’s. His triumphant, beautiful grin was the most annoying thing in the world that Bruce could only wipe off with a long, slow kiss.

Behind him, the engines of the plane roared and it was really time to say goodbye. To Clark, if only for a couple days. To Clark’s parents. To Kansas. Godawful, unpredictable, and beautiful Kansas. Just like its most important (former) inhabitant.

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

Out of the window of the jet, he watched Clark, the town, and finally the cornfields disappear, and he sighed contently. Smallville. His secret was safe here.

#superbat #write write #I worked on this for like two weeks and i'm like genuinely proud of it #farm fic #pls don't be weirded out by baby clark.#...it's canon

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eddycurrents · 5 years

Photo

For the week of 11 November 2019

Quick Bits:

Batman & The Outsiders #7 throws some further ramifications of Ra’s al Ghul and his minions meddling with Duke and Sofia. Some particularly disturbing transformations going on with Duke that should be interesting. The level of intrigue that Bryan Hill is keeping in the story is gripping.

| Published by DC Comics

The Batman’s Grave #2 is another excellent issue. A little more packed with action than the first one, allowing Bryan Hitch to cut loose with some of the sequences. Also, I’m loving the humour that Warren Ellis is giving us between Alfred and Bruce. That acerbic wit is something we’ve seen from Alfred a lot and Ellis just nails the voice.

| Published by DC Comics

Battlepug #3 is more fun from Mike Norton, Allen Passalaqua, and Crank! Some really nice stuff here as Bryony cuts loose on Nobody’s Ponies. I absolutely love the mix of traditional sword and sorcery storytelling with rather over-the-top humour that basically lampoons it at the same time.

| Published by Image

Black Cat Annual #1 is a fun tale of a heist on the Maggia by Black Cat and Spider-Man from Jed MacKay, Joey Vazquez, Natacha Bustos, Juan Gedeon, Brian Reber, and Ferran Delgado. It features the usual humour and action that we see in the series and I quite like how the artists are broken up each following one particular aspect of the story. Though it’s all one narrative, it gives a nice differing feel to each part.

| Published by Marvel

Black Hammer / Justice League: Hammer of Justice #5 concludes what has been an excellent series from Jeff Lemire, Michael Walsh, and Nate Piekos. Ultimately, this has reminded me of the old JLA/JSA crossovers of old, and just feels great as an overall story. Plus the possibility of seeing a sequel.

| Published by Dark Horse & DC Comics

Black Panther and the Agents of Wakanda #3 begins “God Loves, Moon Kills”, another two-parter for this series, from Jim Zub, Lan Medina, Craig Yeung, Marcio Menyz, Federico Blee, and Joe Sabino. I love this story format, giving us essentially quick-hit missions dealing with a problem and then moving on. It’s yielded some pretty tight storytelling and some fascinating situations.

| Published by Marvel

Black Stars Above #1 is another incredible debut for Vault, with Lonnie Nadler, Jenna Cha, Brad Simpson, and Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou delivering an incredibly deep and unique horror story. It centres around a young woman in a family of fur traders, as the trade itself begins to die in Canada, and it’s impressive as to how real the characters and their struggle feels. The artwork from Cha and Simpson is exquisite.

| Published by Vault

Buffy + Angel: Hellmouth #2 continues Buffy and Angel’s descent through hell. It’s much more cerebral than you’d expect, with the demons trying to get into Buffy and Angel’s respective heads in order to manipulate and destroy them. Plus, a rather interesting surprise. Jordie Bellaire, Jeremy Lambert, Eleonora Carlini, Cris Peter, and Ed Dukeshire are doing some great work with the core of this event.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

Collapser #5 somehow gets even stranger in this penultimate issue as Liam creates a “perfect” world to run away from the problems he’s having in the real world. The real world bleeding through and a revelation of his girlfriend’s true intentions just ratchet up the strangeness further. Mikey Way, Shaun Simon, Ilias Kyriazis, Cris Peter, and Simon Bowland are just doing amazing work here.

| Published by DC Comics / Young Animal

Detective Comics #1015 takes an interesting turn as Nora decides that she likes being a villain. Through this, Peter J. Tomasi is definitely showing an interesting side to Mr. Freeze, emphasizing again that he’s a rather conflicted villain, only doing the various heinous actions to save his wife. Who now doesn’t need him.

| Published by DC Comics

Doctor Mirage #4 features more incredibly beautiful, inventive artwork from Nick Robles and Jordie Bellaire. The visual storytelling as Shan faces the Embalmer is just incredible. Magdalene Visaggio, Robles, Bellaire, and Dave Sharpe continue to deliver magic with this penultimate issue.

| Published by Valiant

Edgar Allan Poe’s Snifter of Terror: Season Two #2 is another entertaining issue. The lead tale from Tom Peyer, Greg Scott, Lee Loughridge, and Rob Steen has traditional EC Comics horror vibes, as a scientist tries to communicate with our worm overlords. In one of the comics back-ups Mark Russell, Peter Snejbjerg, and Steen revisit the world of the breakfast cereal monsters. And there’s the usual prose pieces, poetry, and Hunt Emerson’s Black Cat.

| Published by Ahoy

Event Leviathan #6 concludes this series from Brian Michael Bendis, Alex Maleev, and Josh Reed. How much you enjoy it will hinge on how much you enjoy Maleev’s art and the realization that most of this tale is about moving one person off the board and the reveal of Leviathan to set up further stories. Also, Bendis paints a Batman who is ridiculously terrible at hiding his secret identity.

| Published by DC Comics

Fallen Angels #1 is the final new first issue of this first wave of “Dawn of X” titles and in many ways it’s more personal than the other X-titles, even Excalibur, delving into Psylocke (the former Kwannon, not Betsy Braddock) and her past. Bryan Hill, Szymon Kudranski, Frank D’Armata, and Joe Sabino deliver an interesting story with hooks on the darker side of the X-world, including some ominous bits from Magneto and Sinister, but I question the inclusion of X-23 and Cable. They don’t exactly seem to fit the roles they’ve been put into here.

| Published by Marvel

Family Tree #1 is a phenomenal debut from Jeff Lemire, Phil Hester, Eric Gapstur, Ryan Cody, and Steve Wands. This first issue perfectly captures that insidious nature of family drama mixed with creeping terror and body horror as a bizarre plague begins spreading across America.

| Published by Image

Far Sector #1 is one of the most impressive debuts I’ve read in a long time. NK Jemisin, Jamal Campbell, and Deron Bennett create a rich new world in the City Enduring and a compelling character in the new Green Lantern, Sojourner Mullein. The murder mystery that ties everything together is just the icing on the cake. Incredible world-building here and drop dead gorgeous artwork. Do not miss this.

| Published by DC Comics / Young Animal

The Flash #82 is part one of “Rogues’ Reign” from Joshua Williamson, Rafa Sandoval, Jordi Tarragona, Arif Prianto, and Steve Wands. It features a Central City taken over by the Rogues, transformed into their own personal playgrounds, as the Flash is nowhere to be found. It’s not bad, but the amount you’re going to like it may be relative to how much you’re also enjoying “City of Bane” and the recently concluded similar arc involving the Trickster.

| Published by DC Comics

Folklords #1 is off to a fantastic start from Matt Kindt, Matt Smith, Chris O’Halloran, and Jim Campbell. It starts off with a precocious kid in a fantasy world who’s been having visions of what essentially amounts to our world, whose quest sets out a rather draconian lockdown on their society when the Librarians rein in everyone from illicit action, like finding the Folklords. Highly recommended.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

Forgotten Home #2 reveals more about Jannada, its history and society, and how an unjust queen was brought to rule through racial warfare. Love the artwork from Marika Cresta and Matt Emmons.

| Published by Vices Press

Gideon Falls #18 unleashes the Laughing Man on reality in part two of “The Pentoculus”. Jeff Lemire, Andrea Sorrentino, Dave Stewart, and Steve Wands are beautifully unfolding this twisted and horrific flower of a story.

| Published by Image

Gotham City Monsters #3 adds another element of DC lore to the series as Melmoth claims a particular prize. I really quite like how Steve Orlando, Amancay Nahuelpan, Trish Mulvihill, and Tom Napolitano are pulling together disparate bits of Gotham and beyond to craft this story.

| Published by DC Comics

Guardians of the Galaxy #11 is the penultimate issue of this series from Donny Cate, Cory Smith, Victor Olazaba, David Curiel, and Cory Petit. It’s basically a big fight between the remaining Guardians and everyone else. It doesn’t go so well.

| Published by Marvel

Hawkman #18 takes a somewhat different approach to Hawkman’s infection than what we’ve seen of the others so far. Rather than being a dark reflection of Hawkman’s own desires, he’s taken over by an Earth-3 incarnation in Sky Tyrant. Robert Venditti, Pat Olliffe, Tom Palmer, Jeremiah Skipper, and Richard Starkings & Comicraft instead use that to play the spirit of our Hawkman against.

| Published by DC Comics

Hit-Girl: Season Two #10 is part two of “India”. The artwork from Alison Sampson and Tríona Farrell is impressive, given an amazing level of detail to bringing Mumbai to life. Brutal and rich in colour.

| Published by Image

House of Whispers #15 takes a new twist as the Corinthian finds the House of Watchers, takes over, and everything changes. Nalo Hopkinson, Dan Watters, Dominike “Dono” Stanton, Zac Atkinson, and AndWorld Design kick off some new terrors as even Erzulie’s status quo is upended, and we get another guest appearance of John Constantine’s homecoming.

| Published by DC Comics - Black Label / The Sandman Universe

Invaders #11 pushes deeper into Steve and Namor’s history and relationship, as Steve refuses to give up on his old friend. There’s some very heavy, very good character work here as we head into the final issue. Chip Zdarsky, Carlos Magno, Butch Guice, Alex Guimarães, and Travis Lanham continue to astonish at the incredibly high bar they’ve set for this story.

| Published by Marvel

Justice League Odyssey #15 is a fun tale from Dan Abnett, Will Conrad, Rain Beredo, Pete Pantazis, and AndWorld Design. Jessica Cruz leading a rag tag band of villains (and Orion) against Darkseid and the previous JLO turned evil is unfolding as a very entertaining story with some interesting twists. Also, Dex-Starr is awesome.

| Published by DC Comics

Morbius #1 isn’t a bad start from Vita Ayala, Marcelo Ferreira, Roberto Poggi, Dono Sánchez-Almara, and Clayton Cowles. This first issue is largely just action as Morbius sets out on his quest to cure himself, again, but it’s not bad. The art from Ferreira, Poggi, and Sánchez-Almara is very nice.

| Published by Marvel

Oblivion Song #21 continues the slowburn investigation and reconnaissance of the Faceless Men’s base, as Marco tries to map it out and discover where they’re holding all of the people who decided to stay in Oblivion. Gorgeous artwork from Lorenzo De Felici and Annalisa Leoni as we see more of the Faceless Men’s technology.

| Published by Image / Skybound

Psi-Lords #6 does a bit more world-building as we find out more about the Psi-Lords and the Starwatchers, even as the four Earthers are beset by the other Marked in a bizarre farce of a trial. Fred Van Lente, Renato Guedes, and Dave Sharpe are telling a pretty great sci-fi adventure tale here. It largely stands alone in the greater Valiant universe framework and deserves more attention than its getting.

| Published by Valiant

Punisher: Soviet #1 is another welcome return to the Punisher by Garth Ennis, stepping back into Frank’s adventures like he never left. Ennis, Jacen Burrows, Guillermo Ortego, Nolan Woodard, and Rob Steen deliver a brutal and bloody beginning as Frank chases down someone who everyone seems to think is him.

| Published by Marvel / MAX

Reaver #5 is a fairly impressive spotlight for Breaker as he does what he really didn’t want to do again in order to help his “friends”. Justin Jordan, Rebekah Isaacs, Alex Guimarães, and Clayton Cowles present a number of twists and surprises in one of the most brutal issues yet.

| Published by Image / Skybound

Ronin Island #8 sees the remaining islanders largely stand together as they try to both stand up to and flee from the Shogun’s soldiers and madness. With a terrible occurrence that looks like it’s going to cause even more problems for the survivors. Giannis Milonogiannis and Irma Kniivila’s art continues to be everything.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

Sea of Stars #5 very nicely puts the pieces together as a disconsolate Gil has been captured and basically given up thinking Kadyn dead is brought to the world where his son is about to be gutted. Jason Aaron, Dennis Hallum, Stephen Green, Rico Renzi, and Jared K. Fletcher are telling an incredible story here and this issue throws even more twists at the reader.

| Published by Image

Seven Days #2 unfolds some of the fallout of people learning that they only have seven days left, as the superhero community is enlisted to try to stop whatever the shiny harbinger things are. Gail Simone, José Luís, Jonas Trinidade, Michelle Madsen, and Saida Temofonte are continuing to build an intriguing story here as we get more and more of the breadth of the Catalyst Prime universe.

| Published by Lion Forge / Catalyst Prime

Superman #17 is kind of a housekeeping issue from Brian Michael Bendis, Kevin Maguire, Paul Mounts, and Dave Sharpe, acting as a prologue to “The Truth”. A bit of reflection on the Unity Saga, Event Leviathan, and Year of the Villain.

| Published by DC Comics

Tales from the Dark Multiverse: Blackest Night #1 might well be the best of these one-shots yet. Tim Seeley, Kyle Hotz, Dexter Vines, Walden Wong, Danny Miki, David Baron, Allen Passalaqua, and Tom Napolitano give us a bleak look at a world where Sinestro chose not to share the power of the White Lantern light and essentially everything fell to Nekron and the Black Lanterns. It’s a very unique take on the zombie apocalypse on its own, made more interesting as a fallen Sinestro, Lobo, and Dove try to save this universe. The art from Hotz, Vines, Wong, Miki, Baron, and Passalaqua is perfect.

| Published by DC Comics

Trees: Three Fates #3 continues to build up the weird atmosphere from last issue, then turns around and focuses on more of the gritty aspects of Oleg, Mik, and Nina. Gorgeous artwork all throughout from Jason Howard and Dee Cunniffe.

| Published by Image

Triage #3 shifts to Commander Marco’s reality as the group flee from the Hunter. I really like what Phillip Sevy and Frank Cvetkovic have been doing with this story. Great high concept, but the interpersonal relationships are where it’s really at.

| Published by Dark Horse

Usagi Yojimbo #6 is a beautiful updating and embellishment of the very first story of Usagi from Albedo by Stan Sakai and Tom Luth. This single issue story really captures the spirit and magic of all of Sakai’s stories, wonderfully portraying his mix of action and folklore.

| Published by IDW

Vampirella/Red Sonja #3 explores more of what the Russians were doing in regards to Drakulon and more. More very nice humour from Jordie Bellaire in the interactions between Vampirella and Sonja.

| Published by Dynamite

Wonder Woman #82 begins “The Wild Hunt” from the new creative team of Steve Orlando, Kieran McKeown, Scott Hanna, Romulo Fajardo Jr., and Pat Brosseau. It very much continues on from the plot threads and elements of the previous run, continuing to build on the current conflict between Wonder Woman and Cheetah.

| Published by DC Comics

X-Men #2 is pretty damn great, going back to the big and wild ideas bringing new elements into the X-universe, all while Cyclops gives some of the strangest parenting. Jonathan Hickman, Leinil Francis Yu, Garry Alanguilan, Sunny Gho, and Clayton Cowles give us a new mystery with the arrival of Arakko and the first of -|A|-’s missing original horsemen.

| Published by Marvel

Other Highlights: Age of Conan: Valeria #4, Agents of Atlas #4, Catwoman #17, Doctor Who: The Thirteenth Doctor Holiday Special #1, The Dollhouse Family #1, Elvira: Mistress of the Dark #10, Firefly: The Sting, Future Foundation #4, Ghosted in LA #5, GI Joe: A Real American Hero #268, Girl on Film, Go Go Power Rangers #25, Harley Quinn & Poison Ivy #3, History of the Marvel Universe #5, Marvel Action: Spider-Man #11, Midnight Vista #3, Moonshine #13, Runaways #27, RWBY (print) #2, RWBY (digital) #6, Savage Sword of Conan #11, Star Wars #74, Star Wars: Jedi - Fallen Order: Dark Temple #4, Star Wars: Target Vader #5, The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl #50

Recommended Collections: Babyteeth - Volume 3, Dark Red - Volume 1, Fallen World, GLOW - Volume 1: Versus the Star Primas, Justice League - Volume 4: The Sixth Dimension, Savage Avengers - Volume 1: City of Sickles, Star Wars: Age of Resistance - Heroes, Star Wars Adventures - Volume 7: Pomp and Circumstance, Wonder Twins - Volume 1: Activate

d. emerson eddy can hear the scratching at the walls of reality.

#This Week in Comics

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go2harsha-blog · 5 years

Text

Celebrating Woodstock - Part 1

With the 50th anniversary of the Woodstock festival round the corner, Harsha Prabhu looks back to visiting the US for the 40th anniversary

A Fairy Tale of New York

Parrots for Peace, Ecofest, Central Park, NYC, Oct 2009. Pic: Hans Lovejoy

Blog 1 on the Rainbow Dreaming US tour, covering NYC and Ecofest. Rainbow Dreaming is a photodocumentary on the alternative culture of the rainbow region of NSW, Australia. The curators were invited to set up the exhibit for the Woodstock 40th. See more at http://www.rainbowdreaming.org

Which Woodstock?

“Don’t even bother about coming to Woodstock for the festival in August,” said Nathan Koening, our host at the Woodstock Museum. “It’s mostly expensive hype. Come in October, when the weather is better and there will be more Woodstock-related events to celebrate the Woodstock legacy. And you can set up the Rainbow Dreaming exhibit.”

Woodstock Museum, Saugerties, NY, October 2009. Pic: Emi Iizuka

The Woodstock Museum were partners in setting up the historic Nimbin-Woodstock Connection in the mid-nineties, a rainbow bridge linking the alternative communities of Nimbin in north eastern New South Wales, Australia, with the whole hippie tradition of Woodstock. We had sealed the relationship by sending the Woodstock Museum an earlier exhibit from Nimbin, called Some Children of the Dream.

It’s now some fifteen years down the track. Walking down the main strip in Byron Bay I spy Hans Lovejoy sitting in a cafe, sipping on a latte. Hans, musician and journalist for the Byron Shire Echo, was in-between assignments.

“Fancy a trip to Woodstock?” I asked him.

“Which Woodstock?” he asked, undoubtedly knowing there were many: Woodstock, the town; the original Woodstock festival in 1969, which was held some 100 kms away; and the many, commemorative events down the years, held wherever the required permits could be obtained and the producers and sponsors lined up with the dollars.

“Not the festival,” I replied, “It’s a celebration of the Woodstock legacy.”

“Why not,” he said.

Lords of the Material Universe

The first signs were auspicious.

At Brisbane airport, waiting to catch the flight out to LA, we bumped into Elizabeth Thorpe and Debbie Lee. Elizabeth and her partner Ray, proprietors of Happy High Herbs, were the principal sponsors of Rainbow Dreaming and Lee, artist and designer, is an old connection from Nimbin. Elizabeth and Lee were headed for USA to open Happy High’s first US store, in Arizona. And Hans and myself were headed for New York, bringing with us the stories and pictures of life in the rainbow region.

From the plane, the New York nightscape glowed and flickered like some gigantic circuit board. “The lords of the material universe have nice real estate here”, said Hans. Towers of ivory, streets of gold. Would the lords be kind to us? Would they let me in, with my Indian passport?

At immigration, there was a blip: Had my passport ever been stolen? Why was it registered as Australian? The question in my head went something like: So this is what it feels to be at the mercy of dodgy databanks and the mood of the assessment officer. But it turned out ok. After a few questions, Officer Pena waived me through.

Did I have anything to declare, the customs man asked? Don’t touch my bag if you please, I have a haversack full of rainbow dreams, I mused to myself.

At the airport, the smiling face of Benny Zable, waiving a rainbow flag, greeted us. Benny, Nimbin’s ambassador to Woodstock, was the kingpin in the rainbow bridge to Woodstock and beyond. Benny had arranged for us to stay in Brooklyn, at the studio of Traci Mann, a New York tap dancer.

Disoriented by jet lag, Hans had left his laptop on the airport bus. That first night, with the El roaring past our window, we fell into a troubled sleep, woken by the clatter of the El and the cries of children at the daycare centre below.

Through a Glass

Our first pilgrimage in New York was to the Yippie Museum in Greenwich Village. The Village was the bohemian hangout par excellence in the sixties. It still has a funky, if gentrified, look. Jazz bars and restaurants dot the streets.

The Yippie Museum resembles the Nimbin Museum, with a stage for performances. One night, we caught some fine performance poetry. It’s the headquarters of New York’s hemp legalization campaign. They knew about Nimbin. They were also involved with a global linkup of cities for 2010.

1st Oct saw the launch of Mark Roselle’s book “Tree Spiker”. Mark Roselle is the founder of Rainforest Action Network. He’s also the man who infiltrated a Nevada test site. The day was also Benny’s birthday, Benny, an agent provocateur with his rainbow flags. The Yippie Museum was a happening place, true to its name of promoting green(sic) issues through direct action.

It took us a while to work out what ‘uptown’ and ‘downtown’ meant in the subway, but we had worked it out by the time we left New York!

Hans slipped out one night for a dose of jazz; the girls went on a harbour cruise; Benny was beavering away at the Ecofest office. My jet lag meant that I saw the city as if through a glass darkly. One image remains: a black, immaculately dressed saxplayer, doing “In a Sentimantl Mood” in the subway at 50th St.

Ecofest

Ecofest, Central Park, NYC, Oct 2009. Pic: Harsha Prabhu

The Ecofest office, off Broadway, was a hive of activity, presided over by Nanci Callahan, queen bee and director/producer of New York’s signature ecological fair, now in it’s 21st year.

We walked to Central Park to check out the site for this year’s Ecofest, passing Strawberry Fields and ‘Imagine’, the mosaic tribute to John Lennon. On park benches huddled New York’s homeless, shrouded in grey, under the shadows of the tall towers ringing the park. The Dakota apartments where Lennon had been shot were across the street. “Yoko Ono pays for the maintenance of this section of the park and the homeless are permitted to sleep here,” Benny explained. I thought of our homeless in Byron, chased from bus shelters, their beach humpies a mark for rangers. In this instance, New York seemed to have a heart.

Sunday 4th Oct was a fine day. The Ecofest site began to fill up with vedors and exhibitors, including the latest hybrid cars from Toyota and Ford.

Rainbow Dreaming at Ecofest, Central Park, NYC, Oct 2009. Pic: Harsha Prabhu

We had been assigned the outer wall of the conference tent to set up the Rainbow Dreaming exhibit. Space restrictions meant only half the exhibit could be accommodated. We punched holes into the exhibition panels and strung them out on twine like washing on a line. It worked! Sayaka Nakao, Rina Terasaki and Saya Minami, our Japanese friends from Byron Bay, who had flown in the previous day via Tokyo to help with the exhibition tour, assisted us in this improvisatory task. Ever enthusiastic, our petite helpers were worth their weight in gold. Hans and I would have struggled to manage the show on our own.

Over 25,000 visitors streamed through Ecofest that day and, as we were positioned at the entrance, many of these stopped by to check the exhibit. Among these was Nirmala, Gina Lakosta’s daughter, who was in New York to perform a burlesque show, under the stage name La Viola Vixen. Another was a couple from Goonengerry, amazed to stumble upon a slice of life from the rainbow region in the heart of New York.

Tap dancers, including the amazing Mabel Lee, Traci Manns’s former teacher, all of 80; soul singers; stiletto heeled models strutting eco fashions; Rick Ulfik from We the World, the global peace network; Parrots for Peace from the Amazon rainforest; ending with a sing along with the legendary Pete Seeger, 90 years old and still singing his peace and environmental anthems.

Jam session, Central Park, NYC, Oct 2009. Pic: Harsha Prabhu

The sun shone down on Benny Zable’s rainbow flags; children fed ducks in the pond; whole families happily picnicked under the trees; frisbees flew in the air. Catching the last of the sunset, the tall towers seemed to shower us with riches and green fields became fields of gold.

The evening ended with drumming. Three drum circles – Cuban, Haitian and African – rang out in the Park. The moon was full and so were our hearts.

Postscript: Hans’ laptop, lost on our first night, was returned to him by the New York City Transport Authority on our last morning in New York, in a fairy tale ending to our stay in the Big Apple!

Van Gets Ripped, or The Long Sleep of Unreason

Blog 2 on the Rainbow Dreaming US tour, taking in New York’s 13th Harvest Festival & Freedom Rally, Hancock, NY; and Woodstock Museum, Saugerties, NY.

Ma & Pa Woodstock, NY Harvest Fest & Freedom Rally, Camp Minglewood, Hancock, October 2009. Pic: Harsha Prabhu

New York Harvest Fest & Freedom Rally

Marijuana legalisation activists and their supporters on the East coast were to meet at Camp Minglewood in the Catskills, a couple of hours north of New York, for the Harvest Festival & Freedom Rally, on 9 Oct.

Rainbow Dreaming crew at New York Harvest Fest & Freedom Rally, October 2009

It was an opportunity too good to be missed. Our hosts from the Woodstock Museum, Shelli Lipton and Nathan Koenig, had booked us a spot at the Festival. They had also booked us into a bunkhouse, with 10 bunk beds. By now we had mushroomed to a party of 10.

It wasn’t pot, but potties that preoccupied us the three days we were there. The toilets were blocked. Much time and energy was spent agonizing over the situation and negotiating the portaloos well before the happy horde that had descended on the Camp trashed them every morning.

Harvest Fest, the child of Hemp activist and performance poet Rob Robinson, was now in its thirteenth year. The legal situation with pot in the US is complex and confusing. Some states (California) allow the medical use of marijuana. Others will bust you for possessing rolling papers. The talk at the Camp was all about the bust of a long-time hemp activist, who had been caught with a whole lot of pot that he was bringing to the festival. Regardless, the pot was plentiful.

Camp Minglewood, Hancock, October 2009. Pic: Harsha Prabhu

From pot to politics. I met Kurt Shotko, a member of the Greens party. Kurt was of the opinion that the Republicans and Democrats were cut from the same cloth, manufactured by big business. “Look at what Obama’s doing in Afghanistan. He’s sending more Americans to die there. We need an alternative to the main players. We’ve got to wake up to the reality that the American dream has been a nightmare for a lot of Americans and for the rest of the world, especially in Iraq and Afghanistan. We have been asleep for too long. We need a revival of common sense. Only a massive program of self education is going to do it.”

Then he quoted from the Populist Program, published in 1892: “They propose to sacrifice our homes, lives and children on the altar of mammon; to destroy the multitude in order to secure corruption funds for the millionaires.”

1892! The sleep of unreason had been a long one.

But Kurt was hopeful of the next generation. That’s why he set up camp at festivals across the US. And that’s partly why we were there too.

Benny Zable in front of archival pic from Rainbow Dreaming, NY Harvest Fest & Freedom Rally, Camp Minglewood, Hancock, October 2009. Pic: Harsha Prabhu

The Rainbow Dreaming exhibit was attached to a wall in the main music hall. Thus many, mostly young, punters got to see the exhibit. This was where The Wailers played on Saturday. I caught the Wailers when they played in Byron and I’m happy to report that they are still wailing away.

But what struck me most about the music at Harvest Fest was the pervasive influence of the Grateful Dead, the legendary sixties psychedelic band from San Francisco. From Cabinet, an established US indi band that played the main stage, to camp fire songs at 4 am, the Dead were everywhere, on so many t shirts and stickers, in so many riffs and improvisatory moments, as a psychedelic glint in so many eyes.

George Clinton & Funkedelic, NY Harvest Fest & Freedom Rally, Camp Minglewood, Hancock, October 2009. Pic: Harsha Prabhu

I spoke with Jane, an artist from New York, who had a stall selling Dead memorabilia. She had grown up in San Francisco and was still a Deadhead. Her eyes misted when she spoke of Jerry Garcia: “You could see so much love pouring out of him. It was a love affair that lasted and lasted and it’s still going strong even when he’s gone.”

Minglewood Moment: across from the festival site, two lovers sit on the steps of a boat ramp. The dying sun paints purple tints on the tops of the maple and elm; waterfowl break the surface of the lake. A band is playing the Dead’s “China Cat Sunflower.”

Woodstock: The Town that Time Forgot

In Rip Van Winkle, Washington Irving’s story, a man who wanders off into the Catskill Mountains, meets some rather strange companions who serve up a suspiciously heady brew, and falls asleep under a tree. When he wakes up, he finds that some 20 years have gone by and his world has changed.

Woodstoock, October 2009. Pic: Harsha Prabhu

The town of Catskill is 30 minutes away from Woodstock. Some 40 years have gone by after the infamous Woodstock festival of 1969. And the world has changed since those heady days. But walking around Woodstock, the town that gave a name to the festival, (which happened in the neighbouring town of Bethel, some 100 kms away), you could be forgiven for believing that it’s still in the thrall of those halcyon days of hippiedom.

Woodstoock, October 2009. Pic: Emi iizuka

Our first port of call was the Woodstock Town Board meeting that night. Benny Zable, Nimbin’s ambassador to Woodstock, presented letters from Nimbin and the crew made a presentation on the Rainbow Dreaming exhibit and its relevance to the whole Woodstock legacy.

The meet was dominated by a spirited discussion over rezoning issues, something very familiar to us on the north coast. Would Woodstock go the way of other small towns and be besieged by rampant development, or would it stay true to its alternative legacy?

That night we also visited the Bearsville Cultural Centre (set up by Albert Grossman, one-time manager of Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin and The Band) and Alchemia Café to catch some live music, including a spirited set by Adam, a young musician we had met at the Byron market drum circle!

Guided around by Benny, on our very first day in Woodstock, we met some representatives of Woodstock’s hippie past: Jogger John, the local village savant, who used to jog everywhere, but, due to his advanced age is now is on a bike; Day A, the village barber, who runs a soup kitchen for the Rainbow Family in town; Grandpa and Grandma Woodstock, an elderly couple, dressed the part, almost town mascots. Woodstock itself is full of funky cafes and art galleries. Turn a corner and spy a Zen garden, complete with waterfall and pergola.

Peace Pole, Woodstock, October 2009. Pic: Emi Iizuka

In the centre of Woodstock town is the village green and the peace pole, with peace messages in several languages. We bumped into Fr John, a priest and peace activist. When he heard that two of our crew, Sayaka Nakao and Rina Terasaki, were from Tokyo, he beamed at them and said: “ Let’s set up a peace link between Woodstock and Tokyo. All it takes is five people. Five is the magic number. Can you find five friends in Tokyo who may be interested?”

Hippie Church, Woodstock, October 2009. Pic: Harsha Prabhu

Fr John also runs the Hippie Church, on the hill overlooking Woodstock. This was the very church where Bob Dylan was rumoured to have married the love of his life, Sarah, his sad eyed lady of the lowlands. The church wears the patina of age, its icons fading in the dim, dank light streaming through stained glass windows.

Path to Buddhist monastery, Woodstock, October 2009. Pic: Harsha Prabhu

In stark contrast is the Buddhist monastery next door. Set up in 1975, the monastery is linked to the 10th century Tibetan Kagyu lineage. Its halls are huge and lushly decorated with tankas, its massive Buddha is gold-painted, its prayer lamps cast a beatific glow on meditating monks and visitors; its gift shop bulges with merchandise, all a tribute to Buddhism’s growing influence in the new world.

Prophesy

The next morning, my very first snowflakes, fine and feathery.

It was too cold to venture out. Emi Iizuka and Simeon Michaels, both from Byron, had joined us in Woodstock. We were toasty warm at the Woodstock Museum, hosted by Shelli and Nathan.

Under the tutelage of Shelli, the sacred Indian corn was brought out and inspected. Purple, yellow, orange, red and black, this was authentic Hopi corn. The girls played with the corn silk, good for medicinal tea and dress ups, fake moustaches and beards. They were transformed into imaginary characters, magical beings, the warrior princesses of Genghis Khan, dressed as men to pass unnoticed amidst the ripening corn. Shelli makes beautiful corn necklaces, a craft she learnt from Rainbow Weaver, a Mohawk Clan Mother.

Padmasambhava, Buddhist monastery, Woodstock, October 2009. Pic: Emi Iizuka

Nathan spoke about the connection between the Hopi and the Tibetans. “Padmasambhava, the founder of Tibetan Buddhism, said: When the iron bird flies and the horses run on wheels the Tibetans will be scattered over the face of the earth and the dharma will come to the land of the red man.”

Nathan went on: “The Hopi’s felt that this might have something to do with the dharma coming to the US. They have prophesies too. After the swastika and the sun, there would be another force, symbolized by the colour red. This force will wear a red cloak or red cap. Spiritual wisdom will come from the East. This spirituality must spread. If that does not take root, others with the red symbol will invade from the West and crawl over the land in one day. The Hopis think this could be the ‘red’ Chinese.” 

“When the Tibetan Karmapa visited Hopiland in 1974, he said: We must have know each other before; your features, ceremonies and way of life are similar to our own. When we bought Hopis to the monastery in Woodstock in 1979, the two cultures again recognized each other, and the Hopis said that the Tibetans may very well be the long lost brother who left them at the beginning of time and went to the other side of the earth to balance the earth spiritually.” Said Shelli: “When the shit hits the fan, we won’t survive unless we cooperate with each other. That’s also what the Hopi prophecies speak of. The Hopis are known as the ‘peaceful ones’.”

While we spoke of prophecies, outside, in the gathering gloom, Tiago Guimaraes, a Brazilian artist, was busy carving out a statue of a man with a guitar, the quintessential hippie hitchhiker, his hand raised, his fingers flashing the peace sign.

Elliot Landy’s book on Woodstock

The Rainbow Dreaming opening at the Woodstock Museum on Sat 17 Oct was a modest yet sweet affair: local musos were in attendance and we joined the members of the Woodstock drum circle in a bongothon.

Rainbow Dreaming crew with Elliot Landy, Woodstock Museum, October 2009. Pic: Hans Lovejoy

The highlight of the evening was meeting Elliot Landy, the famous Woodstock photographer. Elliot was all praise for the exhibit, gave away signed copies of his book to all the crew and offered to help us find a publisher for a book on the exhibition. (Sadly, I was to leave my copy on the street in San Francisco while moving house.)

The Last Hippie, Woodstock Museum, October 2009. Pic: Harsha Prabhu

The last act of the day was raising the sculpture of the hippie hitchhiker and placing him on his pedestal: a symbol of Woodstock’s hippie past and a pointer to its uncertain future as a cultural pilgrimage centre.

Woodstock Earth, after the drum circle, October, 2009. Pic: Simeon Michaels

On our last evening in Woodstock, we participated in the Woodstock Earth drum circle. Some 30 drummers were gathered in the backyard at Day A’s house. In summer, the drummers gather at the village green and spill out onto the road. As the sound of the drums rose over the autumn dusk, we were again reminded of how lucky we were with our vibrant culture of communal drumming and dancing in the rainbow region.

Last days in New York: the Bangladeshi cigarette sellers; the African rickshaw pullers in Central Park; the old men and women carting large bundles of recyclable cans and bottles; the man in Times Square offering to sell me a 15 carat gold ring or Obama condoms.

While the crew went shopping and sightseeing I wandered back to Central Park. More than the statue of Liberty, than Ground Zero, than the suicide gulches and canyons of Wall Street, I was drawn to the spot with the Imagine mosaic and tribute to John Lennon. Park benches line the walkway, each with its dedication. I sat there, amidst the touros and derros, as the shadows lengthened.

Then I saw these lines from Dylan Thomas, carved on a park bench: “Though lovers be lost love shall not; And death shall have no dominion.”

Celebrating Woodstock - Part 2 on San Francisco’s Westfest and the Beats to follow. Please check my blog...

by Harsha Prabhu

Rainbow Dreaming crew at Magic Mountain, Woodstock, October 2009

NOTE: An edited version of A Fairy Tale of New York was published in the Byron Shire Echo, October 2009. While the words and sentiments in the blogs are my own, this project has been a community cultural initiative, helped along by many hands, hearts and minds. Many thanks are due.

First up, Benny Zable, Shelli Lipton & Nathan Koening for setting up the Nimbin Woodstock Connection and the sister village link between the two communities. I would like to acknowledge the help and guidance offered by the Rainbow Dreaming crew – Benny Zable, Hans Lovejoy, Saya Minami, Sayaka Nakao, Rina Terasaki, Emi Iizuka & Simeon Michaels – on this amazing journey to the US. Thanks to our hosts in the US, including Traci Mann & Nanci Callahan in NYC; Rob Robinson at Harvestfest; Shelli Lipton & Nathan Koenig at Woodstock Museum; and Douglas Kolberg & Boots Hughston at Westfest. Thanks to our principal sponsor Happy High Herbs and our media sponsors Byron Shire Echo & Bay FM. Thanks to all those who donated to the community chest to make this project possible, including all the artist and performers from the rainbow region who helped raise funds for the US tour. And a big thank you to all the freaky people of the rainbow region, who are the inspiration for this project. And the writers and photographers who so generously donated their work. This project was auspiced by Byron Community & Cultural Centre, assisted by Lismore Regional Gallery and supported by Byron Neighbourhood Resource Centre and Mullumbimby & District Neighbourhood Centre. Rainbow Dreaming was curated & produced by Harsha Prabhu & Graeme Batterbury for the Rainbow Collective. More on Rainbow Dreaming, including how to get a copy of the book, at: www.rainbowdreaming.org

#woodstock #woodstock festival #newyork #woodstockmuseum #nimbin #byronbay #photography #hopi #rainbowregion #padmasambhava #ecofest #cannabislawreform #elliotlandy #hemp #woodstockanniversary

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heidiamalia · 5 years

Text

Uncommon Goods

[read it all on Ao3] It's Christmas Eve.

The bar is decorated for the holiday with limp red and green streamers lining the back wall. Twinkle lights are half-tangled along the underside of the bar, illuminating heavy winter coats and purses. Someone managed to duct tape mistletoe above the door to the stockroom. Her stool is making that sticky sucking sound when she tries to get comfortable.

Foggy looks over at her from his glass of whatever he's ordered, “Christmas at Josie's.” His eyes are sad, and she gets that, she does. This was their thing - Nelson and Murdock - the drinks together before late mornings and the way better food at a decorated Nelson family table that didn't cling to your shirt. Marci grasps the martini glass in front of her and smiles gently in his direction.

“Karen said she was coming, right?”

“Uh,” Foggy hesitates. Looks around and then back at her quick. He leans forward, hunching himself over his drink to find two new glasses, twinning them in his fingers to clatter on the bar. He's avoiding her eyes when the door opens. “Yeah, she said that.”

It's a cold blow across her ankles and her heels adjust on the metal of her chair. She takes a sip of her drink when Karen appears, cheeks bright with an icy red flush, her black cargo coat too large for her body. There was a hat, at some point on her head, evidenced by untidy strands lifted away from her face. “Hey!” she greets them. “Sorry I'm late, we drove over, someone did a shitty plow job of the parking lot.”

Foggy lifts his arm for a hug, his hello a muffled sound in her ear when they meet. It does not slip past her, though. We.

Karen is turning to face her, wary written all over her face. “I forgot to tell you,” her voice is apologetic, an explanation coming, her eyes staring. “I told him where we were going to be and he wanted to come.” The door opens again and whoever walks in stomps their boots hard and firm to get the snow off. Marci instinctively tilts her head to the side to see. “His name is Pete.”

The Punisher has got some seriously nice stubble.

It's him under the hood, that's for sure. All the photos from the newspaper and when he was resurrected on the news stations recently don't give his jawline justice. Her arm shoots out to the side to grab at her drink, Foggy, the bar, anything. It lands in place with a thump on his shoulder. Marci's gaze flickers to Foggy, who is looking at him too, a wince on his mouth. His hand not holding his drink covers his brow like he's got a headache just by staring.

Frank Castle - the mass murderer and escaped felon, the falsely accused terrorist, the hunk in a thick fleece-lined hoodie - looks around the bar with a lip turned up in nearly childlike wonder. He does the once over before settling on their little group, yanking the hood back.

Whatever Karen is trying to pull with this Pete line is useless. “You know that I know it's not,” she tells her with a whisper.

She's giving her a pleading look before he saddles up beside her. Foggy is already pouring into the new glasses and shaking his head. “I forgot to tell her,” it's loud in the bar but Marci can hear Frank chuckle when Foggy admits this. He tells her hey, reiterates the name, and she sees it's for show. Karen slides the best she can into the seat next to Foggy, tugging the buttons on her coat loose and unzipping.

Frank is leaning his left elbow on the bar, his body turned towards the three of them. He's got a knee touching Karen's, and a boot up on the metal of the empty stool he could claim. It makes a screeching wet sound that attracts Josie from the opposite side, pouring beers from the tap. “Hey,” she shouts at him. It's an irritated but affectionate tone, one Marci is familiar with when she comes here with Foggy.

“Josie, sweetheart,” Frank says gently, probably trying to be inconspicuous. He stands a bit straighter, and he's smiling, turning his body again to allow his chest to touch the wood to face her. Marci tilts her head at Karen, who has started sipping on the caramel colored liquid in the glass Foggy gave her. Their eyes meet. Karen shrugs. Josie is already sliding the glass of beer towards him. “It’s good to see you.”

He catches it. Lifts it in thanks, takes a sip. She smacks a stained gray bar rag over her shoulder. “Where you been, Frankie boy?”

His arms go up in surrender, chin jutting out with disbelief. He catches Karen’s humored stare. Marci smirks a bit too, looking around for a moment, the clientele of the bar unimpressed with the reveal. He says simply, almost proudly, “Queens.”

“Boo,” hollers the old man on the stool 4 seats over.

Foggy tosses his head in a laugh so hard he presses his hand over his heart and arches his back. Marci has to remove his whiskey glass from his grasp before he spills. She can't help herself and touches his arm, warm to the thought that it's caught him off guard.

Karen watches Frank as she finally removes her coat, probably waiting for a story. Marci finishes her martini and picks up the secondary glass originally meant for Frank, grimacing at the taste. Josie nabs the empty and walks back to the sink on the other end.

He's returned to leaning his body towards them, his right hand resting on the back of Karen's chair. Marci spots his thumb stroking the same spot on her shoulderblade, the lean of her into his hand. “I uh… I barbacked at this place for a couple summers before graduating high school, to stay out of trouble,” he says. “Before I enlisted.”

“That's not legal,” Marci says matter-of-factly, pointing with her drink, but he shrugs. Josie's bar, her rules, I guess.

It's later.

Karen has just stepped away to hold their place for next play at the pool table, and Frank finally removed his hoodie, walking to the men's room. Marci took this moment to stare at Foggy, accusatory tilt of her head and all.

“He saved her life,” he exclaimed under the pressure, turning his face to her. “I know what he is, what he's done, but I gotta be grateful for that, yah know? And if that means he cares, that he does that… that thing my dad does, then so be it.”

“What, the touchy touch thing he was doing?”

Foggy rears back his head with a quizzical look, eyes lowered. “What? No, the whole,” his hands are waving a little now, “the whole cover-the-windows thing.” His thumb points behind him, like it was easy to spot. “Keeps her from view. Some… gentleman, military, bodyguard thing.”

Marci only recognizes now that Foggy sits beside her, also covering her view from the frosty windows. His eyes are a bit glassy but he smiles with his teeth. Her hand rests on his knee, and she has a sudden urge to kiss him. So she does.

“Wait, wait,” he mumbles against her mouth, shaking his head. His hand tried to steady itself on her arm. “What, what's the touchy thing?”

“She's not drunk, okay, I can tell. We drank the eel together - that bonds us forever.” Foggy's tone seems final.

“Okay,” she considers. “But you are,” Marci confirms, still staring across the room.

She caught the two of them standing close a little while ago, after ditching the wait for the pool table. Marci poured for a shot. Karen came back for quarters in her purse to play pinball, giggly, and Frank silently followed after Josie gave him another unnamed concoction in a low glass of her choice.

Karen plays two games before Frank's words have her stepping into his space where the edge of the machine meets the wall. His back is leaning against the side, legs apart. She's pointing at the board, tapping the Plexiglas protecting the score list. FCC is listed in bold at the top, flashing a number Marci can't read from where she sits. She's laughing, head thrown back when he supplies a response.

His whole face changes, Marci observes, when she relaxes - cheeks red - mouth still moving to tell him something. The tilt of his head, the way his stubbled chin drops when he licks his bottom lip. Karen rests her right hand on his shoulder, and brushes it a few times. He reaches for her hair, pulling slowly at some of the strands still hanging away from their place, settling them with the palm of his hand. His eyes are squinting and his lip turns up in a soft smile when he chuckles. Karen doesn't look like she notices. Oh my god.

“Foggybear.”

He's nursing his newest pour, this time a gold tequila. And he's not listening to her, trying to complete his tangent on the filing system at the office.

Frank manages to get his hand beneath Karen's hair, fingers deep on her neck and his thumb is tracing her jaw. Marci catches the repeated motion before seeing Karen’s eyes flutter, her forehead leaning to touch his. “Foggy,” she grits out, reaching out to grasp at him. Her nails plant deep grooves into his forearm before he yelps. “Foggy, he's gonna kiss her.”

Karen tightens her grip on his dark gray Henley and he gets a hold of her hip to steady her against his chest before -

“Ow!” Foggy barks. Marci is smacking his arm as her jaw drops, a choking sound at the back of her throat. “Hey, quit it.” He tugs on her hand to hold it to his chest, keeping her still.

Karen's hand moves from his shoulder to his cheek as he kisses her, languid in movement as her nails rake across his stubbled jaw. Her fingers wrap around the back of his neck to hold him closer, and his fingers on her side rub in circles before he settles them on her spine.

Foggy finally catches on.

“Ay, Frankie!” the bar fly shouts from his spot behind them. “Give her a little kiss for me!”

They break apart, but they don't separate from each others hold - their foreheads touch again and Frank’s face is switching from content to snarling, while Karen keeps a small smile on her lips, mouth moving to say something.

Josie takes away the fly's stein, shaking her head with a grimace.

“I think I want fries,” Marci says suddenly, quietly. Her stomach is swimming with liquor and she's avoiding the fact that she could not stop watching them. She puts her drink on the bar, done for the night. There was no way she was eating anything from Josie's when she wants to wake up for Christmas.

Frank stands up straight and steps from the machine, guiding her away from stares as they walk back towards their stools. When they come close they agree on the same idea to leave for food.

“There's a Burger King down the street,” Karen offers her, calm and ready to go too, like she didn't just have her tongue down the Punisher’s throat in front of an entire bar of degenerates.

“Ooh onion rings,” Foggy mutters. “Ooh I love you.”

#kastle #frank x karen #kastle fic #frank castle #karen page #put my shit in the tags goddamnit

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made-it-2-60 · 6 years

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SAY WTF!!!! NOW YA MESS'N WITH THE COWBOYS...LOOK, STOP IT ALREADY. CALLING BULLCRAP!!! YEPPERS!!!! HOW MANY WOMEN OUT THERE SADDLED UP WITH THE BEST? RODE PONY EXPRESS, BUCKED BAILS, AND DROVE A STICK BEFORE YOU HAD YOUR LICENSE??? DATED A BULL RIDER, (FUN, BY THE WAY) STOOD AT THE SHOOTS WITH YOUR DAD ON RODEO DAY, WATCHED YOUR FAMILY RIDE. HAD SISTERS, COUSINS, AUNTS, AND IN-LAWS THAT WERE RODEO QUEENS, ROPERS, BULLRIDERS, BRONC BUSTERS...AND THAT DON'T COUNT THE CATTLE DRIVES, CALVING SEASON IN THE WINTERS HERE...HAULING HAY...KEEPING WINDMILLS RUNNING FOR WATER...HOPING FOR GOOD PASTURE...RIDING HERD...REAL HARD WORK SO YOU GOTTA LOVE WHAT YOU DO...NO PLACE FOR WHINING, BEING CODDLED, OR SISSIES...WE DO NOT WANT TO HEAR IT... LOOK, WYOMING IS THE WILD WEST...COWGIRLS, COWBOYS, COWKIDS, COWHERDS, AND NOW YOU COW TURDS...THIS IS THE EQUALITY STATE...WE WORK HARD, PLAY HARD, LOVE HARD AND FIGHT HARD, GATES WIDE OPEN...YOU CAN'T BULLSHIT A BULLSHITTER...SO GO BAFFLE SOME OTHER STATE WITH YOUR BUTT HURT SELVES...MOST OF US AIN'T LIKELY TO GIVE A SHIT...LEAVE OLE PISTOL PETE ALONE...HE'S A MASCOT, NOT SOME MARAUDING MADMAN...QUIT MESSING WITH OUR UNIVERSITY'S LOGO!!!! I MAY NOT HAVE BEEN THE QUOTE UN QUOTE TYPICAL COW "PERSON" BUT BY GOD I AM DAMN PROUD OF MY COWBOY HERITAGE.... BESIDES, YOU DON'T REALLY WANNA MESS WITH A COWBOY. OR COWGIRL, THEY'LL WHUP YOUR ASS!!! AND THAT'S WHAT I THINK OF THAT.....ARE WE ALLOWED TO SAY "GO POKES." MIGHT BE OFFENSIVE DEPENDING ON YOUR TAKE ON "POKE"???? 🐎🐎🐎🐎 WELL..."GO POKES" (that's short for cow pokes) (no, nobody poking a cow, look it up... JAX University of Wyoming launches ‘Cowboy’ promotion campaign By JEFF VICTOR - 7/13/18 2:56 PM LARAMIE, Wyo. — When the University of Wyoming decided on a new marketing slogan — one element of a $500,000 campaign to boost enrollment — it hoped to reach potential students across the country and inspire them to ask questions about UW. On that front, the campaign succeeded beyond its wildest expectations. During the Board of Trustees’ meeting Thursday, the board voted to roll out the campaign ahead of schedule to capitalize on the national attention it was already gaining. “The last time I talked with you I said we were going to do a marketing campaign — that we wanted a movement,” UW Communication Director Chad Baldwin told the board. “Well, the movement has begun, even without the campaign.” The marketing campaign, developed by the Boulder, Colorado, firm Victors & Spoils, involves a variety of promotional materials and videos that claim, “The world needs more cowboys.” The slogan, featured prominently throughout the campaign, was panned by faculty members for calling forth stereotypical images of white male archetypes and allegedly working against the goal of non-resident student recruitment. Faculty Senate Chair Donal O’Toole said non-resident students — a population essential to enrollment growth — might harbor a different opinion on the word ‘cowboy,’ one informed largely by John Wayne movies and other romanticized images of the west. “It means someone who just kind of takes risks and can sometimes be a knucklehead,” he said. “Now, that’s not how cowboys are seen here, but the university really needs to balance the positive image that cowboys have here with the possibly negative image that cowboys may have elsewhere in the country, especially if they’re interested in bringing in a higher proportion of out-of-state students.” The slogan was also seen by many as exclusionary, referring to a western image many ethnic and female students might not see themselves in, the Laramie Boomerang reported . A letter from the UW Committee on Women and People of Color to Baldwin and UW President Laurie Nichols asked them to “shelve that slogan and find another one that represents the diversity of people and cultures that we have, and want to have, as UW.” Both of these concerns — out-of-state perception and inclusivity — were explored in focus studies, Baldwin said, adding a central goal of the campaign was to redefine the word ‘cowboy’ to take on a more widespread and inclusive meaning. “The world needs more cowboys and not just the kind that sweep you off your feet and ride into the sunset,” one promotional video states. “Ours are diverse cowboys, who come in every sex, shape, color and creed. They come from Wyoming, Montana, Delaware and Nigeria.” In a study conducted by a marketing research firm, prospective students were more likely to say they would apply for or attend UW after viewing the campaign ‘anthem’ video. The pattern held for non-white students as well as white. “The message works,” Baldwin said. Since the slogan — and the internal campus disagreement surrounding it — were made public Sunday, UW has been inundated with requests for comment and proposals for merchandising. “Those who are active on social media have seen: there are logos created, there’s blogs, videos being done,” Baldwin said. “Our trademark and licensing office is hearing from all kinds of people — current licensees and others who are ready to sell the merchandise that says, ‘the world needs more cowboys.’ People are wanting T-shirts.” Issues with the campaign’s proposed slogan were addressed as the video made its way through the various campus constituencies for feedback, Baldwin said, adding meetings with the Council on Equity, Diversity and Inclusion and Chief Diversity Officer Emily Monago resulted in edits to the campaign’s wording. The internal campus discussion turned national overnight, first on social media throughout Wyoming and eventually onto radio programs and editorial pages across the country. Reuters, U.S. News & World Report, the Washington Examiner and others carried stories about the issue. The Forth Worth Star-Telegram ran an editorial in support of the slogan and, at press time, the Washington Post was preparing its own editorial on the debate. “The reason this is so provocative is it plays into the culture wars and it’s seen from that perspective,” O’Toole told the trustees. “I — and several other faculty members, including some local members of faculty — have received hateful mail.” What was once a disagreement between those on campus grew into an off-campus controversy, transforming into a partisan debate about campus culture as it exists in 2018, political correctness and the history of black, Hispanic and Native American cowboys who populated the west alongside their white contemporaries. Baldwin said it had gotten ugly. “I’ve lost a lot of sleep over this, because there are people on campus I really respect who don’t like the campaign,” he said. “There are people who have opposed this publicly who now are being subjected to harassing, hateful messaging from people outside the university. I just want to say, whoever is doing that ought to stop it.” He added those who opposed the slogan had done so for understandable reasons. “The University of Wyoming and the state of Wyoming do need to become more diverse and more diversified and it’s in all of our interests for that to happen,” Baldwin said. “The fact that there are people from underrepresented groups on the UW campus who don’t like this and feel it’s harmful — that bothers me. But we do have data that shows this works.”

#hell nah!!!#my cows #my pasture #our rodeo #our clowns #proud state #western skies #wide open spaces #COWBOYS

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unproduciblesmackdown · 7 years

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instead of me making a post where i briefly rate btvs characters im gonna do a post im sure ive already made abt how in the first book alone its shown that narnia is an unreasonable twilight zone to deal with and the lore is wild and aslan is sort of a jerk and bad with dealing with children / dealing with the world he created; or: the battle of the reader vs cs lewis

ok first of all. this book completely wrongs edmund. cs lewis is determined to have us believe that he is a Bad Sort but? not so much that when he's "redeemed" we have to doubt for even a moment that he's now Good Forever. and the reasons the reader keeps being given about why we should be disgusted with edmund are incredibly weak and often bemusing

to start with, cs lewis hates boarding schools which is probably because they could be awful and so he throws out the reason that edmund used to be as nice and purehearted as his siblings until boarding school spoilt his immortal soul? were peter and susan taught at home or in public school then? if lewis was making a comment on how terrible boarding school is, why isnt edmund given any sympathy for this by the narrator or his siblings who just seem largely annoyed by him?

and since at the start the kids are being sent off from home in the middle of a world war their dad is off in and have to go to a boring house with an uncle? who for some reason never like, bothers to speak to them or see them ever. tf, dude. and theyre in england in the first place. anyhow, the fact that edmund being in a bad mood over this is supposed to be evidence of his crappiness is a touch unreasonable. he's like what, 8-11? so much of this book hinges on his character needing to be saved from his own badness that its sort of unforgivable that said badness really doesnt exist. hates his terrible school? hates his terrible situation? difficult? fights with siblings? how is this meant to be fit for A Just and Divine Damnation. why is there such a complete lack of sympathy. does lewis understand anything about children.

the answer is that "adults assuming these young as hell children have the same emotional maturity and logical processes and understanding of the world as adults" is a constant theme. these random schoolchildren become the supreme rulers of an entire country in a world theyve never been in after like, a week. the whole series runs on a fair number of other English Brand notions abt classism, racism, divine right to rule, etc. but even if it wasnt "only humans can lead", why would any children be allowed? children who had never been there? for gods sake

moving on to the plot: lucy finds narnia, etc. i guess on account of being Young and A Girl, which here means spiritual purity? and also as a character trope means Innocence. ok. meeting an exposition-providing faun, getting back, nobody believes her because why would they. their great(but not good) uncle bothers showing up upon coincidence. why hasnt he ever even said "hello, im not evil" to the kids staying at his house?for gods sake. he then explains to the kids a version of one of lewis's apologistic things that supposedly logically proves that christianity is valid and here proves that narnia is real, which it actually does neither of. shove it, clive staple lewis. your argument is crap

oh but edmund went to narnia along with lucy before that had happened. this is supposed to be a crucial point where he meets the white witch and is supposed to be like, dont be like edmund kids!! but frankly he behaves perfectly reasonably during that encounter and also when they all get to narnia. coz, ok, he's in an alternate universe alone which is disorienting for anyone. then the witch just happens to stumble across him. was he supposed to have prevented that somehow? lucy just stumbled across mr tumnus and trusted him inherently and it happened to go well. the first person edmund meets is someone else and he talks with her for a minute because she is a grown ass woman, probably gonna kill him otherwise, and also he's in an alternate universe alone with no idea where anyone is or if he can get back? here is a quick tangent:

a moral throughout the series is that you can sense somethings inherent goodness or truthfulness through how much it gives you a nice gut feeling. yet frankly this is not the only way to go about making choices. and not everything bad sets off alarms and not everything that sets off alarms is bad, so i dont know how much of a lesson that is. but for example, here the witch doesnt give edmund the warm fuzzies, and it is supposed to be a mistake or moral weakness on his part to not have.....what? gone running aimlessly through the arctic landscape in his jammies from a self-proclaimed queen with a sledge? he didnt really have any options here. how is he meant to know she's not really the ruler of this crap place that, so far as he knows, he lives in now? and ok, then somehow his big ol mistake is eating some damn candy and having some hot cider or whatever. it is eternal winter, why is this child a sinner for getting up out of the snow and humoring this lady by taking some offered snackaroos. also, everyone says turkish delight isnt even good. ask for some m&m's, ed!!! love yourself!! and even if he is supposed to know never to eat magical food or be bound to the fairy queen, lucy went and had tea with a fuckin faun so again, they basically did the same thing but edmund met the wrong person by sheer luck of it, so he has to die. LEWIS!!!!!!!

another big Edmund Must Die moment is when he and lucy get back from narnia and edmund lies that narnias fake, because he's evil. first of all, the fact that lucy tells him that some stranger she's buddies with says the white witch is evil and a liar. how is her stranger meant to be more reliable than the witch? this is just the word of two randos pitted together. how is edmund meant to understand this as Proof that the queen is evil and an imposter to the throne. frankly, she's functionally the actual queen, so its not even really a lie? narnia is impossible. secondly, it is 10000% understandable that edmund would realize that if he backs up lucy's claims then everyone is going to go looking for narnia, and in the experience he's just had, its a hellhole. and lucy has just told him that he possibly met an evil witch that is interested in also meeting his siblings? wouldnt be too thrilled about going back there then. and thirdly, if as lewis says he just lies because he is evil? does this man again not understand that Impulsive Pettiness is a bit different coming from a 9 yr old than a grown adult. the narrator is just so aghast at edmund constantly when its like dude he's.....not really doing anything, and also theyre all babies. let him be a bit of a little shit without the devil herself coming to claim his spilled blood for it, mayhaps

also, there is a bit of confusion about the fairy food! it is implied to be actually kind of magically binding, like to a degree he has to cooperate with the witch now because he took food he was offered? or at least it is somehow "corrupting." so how is this meant to be a sin if also it is not even his own choices here! how was he meant to have avoided this? dont take candy from strangers, sure. BUT IF YOU DO, YOU DESERVE WHAT YOU GET!!!

all the pevensies are in narnia, lucy lets it for everyone else remarkably fast, but i guess she is like 6 and having a nice time with her family in a magical land. although you'd think she'd be more concerned about all that witch stuff, and the fact that mr tumnus was about to straight up childnap her and deliver her to childmurder. like, good on you for not doing that. but how many people has he been selling out all this time! its literally been his job for however long. he's had to have had something to show for it. is morally greyness just arbitrarily sorted into black and white Good/Evil characters and these kids are supposed to sniff out which way these things fall? for gods sake. see, my point is that this adult faun who was going to turn a kindergartener in to be killed until he decided nah, and previously definitely probably narced on people in the past, is way crapper than a kid who has been grumpy and ran into the wrong person? what is edmunds Betrayal. was it the food eating

anyways, then peter is a total dick, but in like a noble way. in that he's mad at edmund for ages but like...again, ok, he's like 12-14 or whatever, who knows. the point is that if he can hold a grudge against his siblings for being annoying, why is that trait evil in edmund? it is because narrator lewis says so, damn him. but if peter is the Natural Born Leader of A Country here, you'd think he could at least manage not to keep giving a hard time to the one of their group who is going to be any trouble keeping in line at all, since lucy is Pure and susan gets the literature role of the Mini Mom. theyre not going anywhere. you basically had one job, pete.

fun fact: this is where they find out mr tumnus is taken by the queens evil forces, referred to as the police. this is basically the only book i can think of where the evil enforcement agency is called a police force. Interesting Stuff

even though im not sure what any of them think they can accomplish by wandering around, they end up following a random bird and following some random beavers. they know this is ok because of those warm fuzzies, and the fact edmund isnt feeling those good vibes is because he's evil, but honestly its a shit plan following some random bird and assuming some beavers are gonna be good guys. the only people edmund knows of in this country are an imposing queen and her kidnapper who's totally nice. also if tumnus told lucy that the queen has loads of spies, why are they crashing around inherently trusting the first things they see? lucy trusts a faun who was going to sell her to satan, edmund sort of has to trust an ominous lady who turns out to possibly be evil? why would he not find it a questionable idea to wander into this beaver dam

in further supposed evidence of edmund being all devil-corrupted by d&d, he doesnt get the warm fuzzies when these random beavers start talking abt a magic lion who's great and wandering around somewhere, you should totally go to him. but they have like, actually zero knowledge about this world beyond the differing accounts of those theyve happened to bump into? how would they know some lion who isnt even around ever is the rightful ruler of narnia, vs some lady who is actually around? she's got one up on aslan for that. where've you been, buddy. what took you an entire century. aslan SHOULD TOTALLY sound kind of crap because, uh, HE IS?

edmund goes off somehow without anyone noticing and the beavers are like oh yeah saw that one coming, that'll be the magic food. like??? you couldve said. or at least not let him sidle off out the door half an hour ago? for gods sake. and again: if this is magic food rules, why isnt the magical kit-kats the Great Traitor of All Of Narnia! how is the concept of sin fitting into all of this. again, edmund just ran into the wrong person. and lewis is just like no, see, but he deserves this because he is irritable and childish and mean. CHILDREN LEWIS!!! HAVE YOU HEARD OF THAT!!!

apparently edmund meanders all the way to the white witches place b/c all the time the entirety of narnia seems to be a couple of miles across or a few hundred miles, depending on whats convenient to the story. the moral of narnia's weird lore is that its only as consistent as cs lewis feels like making it, which is sometimes Completely Bewildering when he just sort of throws stuff out there but moves the narration right along. presumably he wasnt expecting this to operate on the rules that any of this would be regarded with any level of analysis, since tolkien was a contemporary and not a predecessor. but still, dude, get your story straight? especially within the same book.

and anyways also, again! the magic food rules come up. because that is meant to be edmunds motivation, besides just being petty. he is magically bound to the fig newtons. which is i guess meant to explain away him literally going the extra mile for this witch shit, but also still letting him be blamed for that, since he is being SUCH a jerk, see kids? dont act less than chipper at your terrible life unless you want to take your soul's rightful place as the devils property, moreso than literally anyone else in all of narnia? alright. this books plot points are just a bit like.......ok

the other kids definitely have no option but to trust their choice in "trust the first people we bump into." luckily its uh...its fine. but wtf

who is narnia santa!!!!! how can there be a dude based on a saint? does narnia have the concept of saints? is he a dead guy???? i can slightly accept that narnia has a christmas in that maybe that comes from the dude who was made king at its birth being a random english cabbie, i suppose maybe this guy was like "fuck it, its christmas and you're going to like it." but do narnians know what xmas is about at all??? canonly aslan is actually just also jesus in the england-world, but did the cabbie king know that? did he explain the concept of jesus? does monotheistic narnia also accept the concept of a separate god existing in another universe, or are they all also assuming aslan=jesus? but this isnt as confusing as the santa guy. is he like how there's wizards running around? this is so weird. what magic shit would edmund have got. wouldnt it have been nice or at least useful for santa to have given the other pevensies whatever he was going to have given edmund. does that boy also not get xmas presents because he is on the naughty list. bad month for edmund

speaking of edmund, he honestly sort of disappears from the book as soon as he has the realization that the witch is mean :( despite the plot of rest of the book being essentially centered around him? and him finally being in a position for the narration to stop talking about what a cruel cruel monster he is? ok

aslan is just a dick not only for leaving narnia on its own for ages but also just personality wise. rude to the children. they are all like "aslan our brother" and aslan is like "shut up about your brother already, i'll do something about it if i want to but if i dont want to he deserves whatever's coming to him." like? have a little patience for the reasonable questions and uncertainties of these kids, ffs

how is this massive climate shift not fucking shit up like, ecologically. does anyone own shorts at this point? how are plants alive. its magic

oh yeah, forgot that there was that bit in the white witches statue garden of death where edmund straight up thought this one lion he saw must be aslan. wasnt he also getting figurative cold feet until he saw that, also? again, in these circumstances, how was he meant to know that WASN'T aslan and that the witch wasnt the one who was right. shrug! but now another total coincidence is whats driving edmund to go say hey to the witch again instead of backing out of her creepy house. see you in hell ed

back to aslan........uhhh when a wolf attacks susan, who is like, dangling precariously from a branch in fear of her life, aslan orders the skilled warriors not to save susan asap, but instead to let this 13 yr old holding a sword for the first time mosey on over and have a one on one fight with this talking wolf. sure, aslan knows the situation is under control. but the people who dont know?? are these kids in mortal peril? aslan is such a dick. he shouldnt be putting these children in these positions of Leader Of My Army Now, Go Into Actual Combat. but thats just how he rolls. trial by fire, dweebs

oh yeah and since the chance happens to arrive he sends some people to go get edmund back. thanks for bothering to rescue a child! gods sake

then he has a nice long talk with edmund about never being annoyed with your siblings or theres literal hell to pay, i guess! whatever. at least he's paying attention to him for a moment instead of just handing him a sword and telling him not to complain. thanks? telling his siblings not to be dicks about it all is also very mature of him. and apparently necessary since again, cough, peter? getting mad at edmund for being petty and immature maybe shouldnt have involved sniping at him a ton and ignoring him to the point he just left for an hour before anyone was like, wasnt there more of you. lord. im just saying, maybe everyone needs to mature a bit before they are monarchs

psych!! these kids are ready for anything now

except for the bit where the witch comes and demand edmund's head, since...........................i guess she was trying to play the long con? by hoping aslan would do the ol switcheroo? or maybe she was just mad and wanting a good ritualistic murder. but despite the whole damn book being about this explanation of the crucifixion of jesus, it.........doesnt really make sense within the god damn Lore. she has claim to edmunds life because he is a Traitor? to whom? the witch straight up lied to him abt what she wanted to do with his siblings, so how was he meant to have betrayed them if he hadnt known what she intended to do? how can he betray someone if it was the fault of the Law Of The Magic Almond Joy? sure, he lied and snuck around and was pissy and all, but how is that on a level above any other number of stunts other narnians are sure to have pulled. she has narnian spies? arent they traitors? does she have to formally make the claim for the "i get to kill the traitor or narnia is destroyed b/c The Lore, Fuck You" for it to come into effect? is edmund just called a traitor for the strategy of it all, since the humans have to be alive to defeat her. but on what grounds

also, who agreed to give her that authority of traitor-killer? why does that role exist. what. whomst. lewis, explain this?

again like.....how are the children on their own for this bit, either. there is no sympathy for being children in lewisverse

ok and uhhhh? aslan leaving on the night before a battle w/o like....telling anyone? they wouldnt even have known he'd died if a dryad hadnt have been like "you'll never guess this shit." i guess omniscience or whatever. but for fucks sake, peter outranks everyone else in the army just because he's human? he doesn't know shit! you made him fight a wolf! whatever. why even put the humans in battle if you need them to live. whatever

susan and lucy of course have to witness this aslancide until they also witness this resurrection. cool. but the thing is that like? sure aslan couldve just flat out let edmund die, but besides the fact that theres the whole prophecy thing to mean that the kids need to live, but also, he was sort of backed into a corner re: having to die himself because of some technicality in narnia's rulebook? i get that this wasnt meant to be completely an allegory so much as just "gateway christianity drug" but wasnt the jesus bit supposed to be done just totally as a favor or whatever. aslan was sort of just strategizing as far as we know. like, is edmund representing The Sins Of All Humanity, or is he out here like "if jesus dying wouldve saved just one person it wouldve happened all the same"? either way, it makes it seem like aslan HAS to do this whole dying thing out of "so the world doesnt end" vs choosing to out of being cool abt it. i mean......not that uh jesus was supposed to have been psyched up abt his death. but you know what im getting at here. whatever, the Lore

again, the battle seems to be happening like, five miles from the witches house? coz everyone from the statues just makes the journey with aslan in one go. what are the scales here, lewis!!

aslan shows up in time to just kill the white witch himself, with his god lion teeth? how gross must that have been. also! he couldve done that at any time!!! but prophecy whatever sighhhhhhhh

its funny that lucy gets impatient with aslan for interrupting her moment of "can i make sure my brother isnt dead" and he gets impatient with her about that? shes in like preschool. also, you have healing powers!!!! so says uhhh.....the next book? or the one after. and anyone can use that magic elixer. and can you stop being so damn testy abt these childrens concerns for each other's lives!!!

theyre monarchs now, and aslan just fucks off. he couldve bothered to say goodbye, if people dont happen to see him meander off, how do they even know if he left or is just hanging around somewhere? seeing as he just snuck off overnight and died without letting anyone know. but more importantly he's again left this country entirely on its own save for these kids who know nothing except that they better be nice to each other or some random magical law might come into effect where someone gets to knock on their door and demand their kidneys or the world ends.

for real though! this is like, a country coming out of a crappy period and now in a wild transitional period and the only leaders are these kids who just showed up who have never been here before in their lives. how are they meant to manage a natl economy? its not mentioned here (is it) but theres an entire other racist-caricature-mashup of a country to the south already? how are they at diplomacy between two countries they know nothing abt. how will they form policies! they are 11! what tf is narnias infrastructure, beyond "sparse." where did the line to the throne go? was there always direct descendants to the first king in archenland, which by the way also exists with people in it b/c fuck you. i guess so...i forget where caspian comes from.

fun fact, when my sister and her friend went to disney world some yrs ago, they took a pic with a dude playing caspian a la the films, whom looked a lot like the actual actor, aka a total babe. its a great photo

anyways ummm. see the entire narnian govt just disappears? which i suppose they figure out when the four of them just leave and never come back. i suppose its lucky the narnians assumed it was magic and not regicide. because, if you live in narnia? fuck you. honestly what did they do in the aftermath. nobody nonhuman is even allowed to be a ruler. do they have like, other elevated positions? was there no regulation. coz thats alright but the series implies that narnia is always supposed to have a king around in order for things to go well. ok

so uh its govtless i guess until what, these people accidentally stumble upon a portal to narnia and become the telmarines who take over narnia? but not rightfully i guess, because even though theyre humans, they were probably insufficiently noble about it. or just not aslan-approved. honestly ok where tf did the calormenes come from? another portal? why did they restrict themselves to a certain region? why did narnia not encompass the entire world? why did you need to be white and english to be christian. i know this is a case of just introducing things that dont make sense but moving the story along before anyone asks questions but uh..........louie

Also How Tf Are These Kids Going From Grown Adult Monarchs To 10 Yr Old Schoolchildren In 1940s England Again over the course of like 10 seconds. before they left this clowns didnt even recognize the damn lantern! how do you forget that ever. ridiculous

where the "put in what you want and dont bother explaining it unles you feel like it" strategy is really fun is with that lantern, imo. on account of he just put it in as a Fuck You Buddy to tolkien, which is funny. good job

but really how are you not even going to devote a single sentence to that fucked up transition these kids? adults in kids bodies? kids with the memories of what it is like to have become and been adults until just a second ago? are going through. like...............ok. do they have to larp being normal children for a while. It's Magic, Fuck You

aslan is just.....kind of a jerk!

this book teaches you nothing

The Lore

the end

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