#but these stand ins look SO out of place its comical

[justapurrcat]

Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans | t.s.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!hiking guide!reader

Synopsys: Finally free after a particularly demanding project, Tom is looking forward to enjoying a well deserved holiday of sweet idleness… until a local hiking guide catches his attention, throwing all his purposes out of the window.

Word Count: 10.277k

Warnings: English not being my first language, disgusting fluff, a pinch of angst because it’s me, shameless love at first sight, an easter egg maybe, Tom being stupid~

Group Masterlist

Tom Holland Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/n: I’m super late with this one, but here it is, my work for @tshwritersnet’s summer writing challenge! While I’m not the biggest fan of how the result turned out, I had a lot of fun writing this (what can I say? I thoroughly enjoy having my leading men, especially Tom, do foolish things in the name of love...) and I really hope you will like it! 💜 please, consider letting me know what you think, feedback is always greatly appreciated! 💜

After leaving for college, coming back here for your summer holidays had become a religion for you, and even after so many years, the Bed and Breakfast owned by your uncles still remained one of your favourite places, with a special mention to its garden: you practically considered it the ‘symbol’ of your childhood, given all the time you had spent playing in there, waiting for your parents to come home in the evening.

It wasn’t a grand or highly renowned one, but it was beautiful and the same could be said about the building itself. It was a quite ancient edifice, no one would’ve given it the light of the day on a first look, but everyone fell in love with it the second they walked through the door.

The familiar rich scent of roses and jasmine, the very same ones your aunt had planted with your help, blended perfectly with the citrus aroma of the trees thriving in the backyard. It was so intense and captivating you could smell it from the outside, your heart growing at least two sizes because of that.

You were home.

And you were in a good mood, your heart still on cloud nine after having convinced itself you had met the love of your life on that very same day. Granted, not knowing his name nor how to find him again might’ve been quite a substantial hurdle – in hindsight, getting hit by Cupid’s arrow had made you kinda stupid –, but you didn’t want to think of bad things now: this was a small place, you could get lucky again…

But you were digressing.

“Hey, old man!”, you greeted cheerfully, bursting into the hall with a toothy smile and open arms, ready to crack your poor victim uncle’s bones with one of your devastating bear hugs, just like you had done with your aunt. It was the bare minimum after not seeing them for so long.

But your excitement died as soon as you took in the scene in front of you: no less than six strangers and a blue Staffy, most certainly a family, standing right by the reception desk, each one of them interrupting their current actions to turn their heads in your direction all at once, a surprised – which was an euphemism – look on their faces.

“Oh…”, was all you could let out, your palms beginning to sweat like crazy.

They had to be a last minute arrival, and you were pretty sure they hadn’t even booked their stay, since your aunt had reassured you that you were not going to bother, since there were no planned check-ins for the rest of the day. Which was the reason behind your rather informal – now turned ridiculous – entrance…

And then, of course, there was your uncle, the only one who didn’t bat an eyelash, too happy to see the niece he loved like a daughter to care. “Kiddo!”, he exclaimed, waving his hand with enthusiasm, and you thanked your good star that he didn’t call you ‘frog’ the way he did when you were a prepubescent girl who read too many W.I.T.C.H. comics.

“Come over”, he gestured for you to get closer, then returned his attention to his guests, quickly apologising for the abrupt interruption.

They all graciously reassured him, the older man – the father, you assumed – even making a joke on how hard to deal with young adults could be. Not exactly your kind of humour, to be honest, but so be it: you weren’t in the right state of mind to pay the due amount of attention to it.

Also because, in addition to all that was going on in your mind, you had also recognized a certain face among that group.

It was the cute guy you had met at the beach only a few hours earlier, those big soft brown eyes and the cute unruly curl falling back onto his forehead forever engraved in the back of your mind making it impossible to forget about him.

To be fair, you also remembered the impressively sharp jawline and his insanely gorgeous hands, with long fingers you would’ve loved to fit a glove, but those were way less romantic details to mention when ranting to your best friend about an idiotic circumstance of love at first sight, in which chatting with him for only a few minutes had felt like knowing him all your life.

Oh shit, from frying pan into the fire…

“I’m sorry…”, you gulped, quickly looking for an excuse to vanish as soon as humanly possible. You had been wishing to meet him again and that was what Fate had planned for you? You refused to believe it.

“I-I didn’t mean to interrupt, I can come back later–”

“It’s alright, dear”, the red-haired woman kindly smiled at you, and despite your previous gaffe, it was a nice gesture that didn’t appear as if she was doing it out of pity. It was a simple thing, but at least it reduced your discomfort a little.

You returned her smile, trying to figure out why she looked kinda familiar as well, even though you were pretty sure you had only met her son… in fact, all of the family (dog included, of course) was giving you that unusual vibe. The cute guy himself had given you that unusual vibe on that very same morning…

“y/n is my niece”, your uncle announced proudly, throwing an arm around your shoulders when you finally reached the desk.

You opted for a simple bow of the head as a silent way to say hello, not really wanting to worsen the situation. You had been lucky, better not to push it.

“Enjoying your holidays, young lady?”, the older man asked you and the faint hope you had of ceasing to be the object of the conversation turned to dust in front of your eyes. Because if you knew your uncle well enough…

“Not really”, he chipped in, jumping at the occasion to promote you. You loved him, you really did, and you understood he was doing it for your own good, but sometimes he really couldn’t read the room…

“Apparently, keeping her nose stuck in books for almost an entire year isn’t enough”, he continued. “She has to spend her summer getting lost in the woods.”

“I’m a hiking guide”, you rushed to explain, understanding your uncle’s intentions: he had purposely formulated a weird sentence just so that he could get you to talk and clear things up. Typical of that side of the family. “It’s my summer job.”

You were trying your best not to look directly at him, but your willpower seemed to keep failing you every once in a while: as a consequence, you didn’t miss the way his eyes went wide and his head snapped up, the curls bouncing adorably, when you mentioned your seasonal activity.

“We tried to convince her to work here with us: she’s great with clients, but it would’ve been a waste”, your uncle added, the slight regret in his tone mixing with pride. “These places need a good guide and she knows them like the back of her hand”, he announced, patting right between your shoulder blades and almost taking your breath away. For a not-so-young-anymore man, he was still quite strong.

“Authentic autochthonous blood here.”

You elbowed him in the ribs as an affectionate little revenge, your interactions with him and the surprisingly interested looks of the numerous family easing your pressure: maybe they weren’t thinking of your stupid entrance anymore.

“What can I say? I learned from the best”, you replied, not wanting to take all the credit for it, since he had literally taught you everything you knew.

“That’s music for my ears!”

Your head turned, following the direction of that voice, the movement way faster than you would’ve wanted it to be.

The guy you had met at the beach stared back at you, carelessly pushing one of his brothers aside to take a few steps forward. “I’ve literally been pestering my entire family to come here for that”, he said, the statement earning him a few perplexed blinks and tilts of the head from the rest of his family.

Not that you noticed, of course, far too gone in the hypnotizing fantasy his soothing voice elicited in your mind. Fuck, were you really that gullible?

Tom, on the other hand, noticed each single one of them.

“What?”, Harry questioned, arching an eyebrow. “Hiking?”

“Didn’t you say th–”

But Sam’s sentence was brutally cut off by an overly enthusiastic Tom. “That I’m dying to hit those paths”, the eldest declared firmly, his chirpy tone releasing a secret threatening aura in its echo. To anyone but you, of course. “I can’t wait. I love hiking!”

That wasn’t a lie: Tom loved being active and spending time outdoors, even better if immersed in nature.

However, he had just finished working on a pretty intense project that had taken a huge physical toll on him: the role had required him to lose quite a lot of weight and to look lean, almost fragile he would have dared to say, so he had been following a strict diet and significantly reduced his gym time.

And ever since he had set foot back home, he had been pestering his entire family – that part was painfully true. Only not about hiking. Hell, he didn’t even know the place they were going to was famous for its hiking paths up until now.

The only request he had made while they were still choosing where to go, was ‘a quiet, silent, private place, so preferably a small one, thank you very much’. He had barely paid any attention to Harry’s announcement regarding having found ‘the perfect place’.

“It has mountains, and the sea, and it’s quiet and then there are hiking paths and there’s a small Bed & Breakfast that might be just right for us, though I suggest not booking in advance, so our presence there doesn’t get leaked even before we get there or some shit like that…”

Tom had mindlessly hummed his approval, then stopped listening to him after ‘quiet’, the only word he really wanted to hear, completely missing the part that would’ve caused his healthier and much more energetic self to freak out from excitement.

For the last couple of days, his favourite topic had actually been how he would’ve spent this whole vacation doing absolutely nothing, sleeping in his bed, sleeping on the sand, sleeping on pool rafts, even sleeping on the flight to get there, which of course he had done.

That was what he had been pestering his family about, because Tom craved sleep. The dark bags under his eyes, his sagging shoulders and the lack of strength in his movements could testify it.

He hadn’t even resumed working out, a well deserved period of immaculate rest being all he could think of, so it was needless to say that he wasn’t prepared to walk in the slightest, let alone to hike.

But this was Fate reaching out, serving him the perfect occasion on a silver plate and how could Tom refuse it?

The smile you gave him felt like a thousand fireflies – not butterflies, fireflies – got released in Tom’s chest, filling it with such warmth and light it almost brought tears to his eyes. He was so whipped he couldn’t even tell himself to get his shit together.

While he was struggling not to pat his own shoulder for the brilliant idea his brain had just come up with, you were undergoing a similar type of struggle, the only difference consisting in the reason moving it: you needed to be serious, to look professional and reliable, while all you wanted to do was jump up and down for the entire hall giggling like a little kid and revelling in your unexpected luck.

After that, you were no longer going to complain about Fate’s plans regarding your sentimental life.

You cleared your throat and raised your chin, taking a step towards him. “Well you’ve found the right person, Sir”, you said, holding out your hand to him, the confidence in the gesture masking the fact that you were hoping it wouldn’t get sweaty.

The cute boy from the beach – he was so pretty you might’ve believed he was a merman, your mind briefly fleeting back to that local tale about a girl finding her soulmate to be no less than the King of the Ocean – smiled back at you, reaching out and squeezing your hand with no hesitation.

“Tom”, he introduced himself. “Please, call me Tom, y/n.”

Your name on his lips, his fingers touching yours, the hint of wink he sent your way… it was too much to handle.

As soon as your hands parted, your left one came up to your lobe, pretending to fix something about your earring, while in reality, you were just playing with it. It was an old habit of yours you had never found the way to get rid off.

From the outside, it looked like nothing but a casual mannerism, but you knew it was your heart’s personal method of letting your brain know that you were fucked.

Tom, you repeated it in your mind, looking forward to whispering it in the dim-light of your bedroom, later that evening, lying on that tiny mattress with your hand right above your heart.

Tom…

You could already picture that, practically witnessing yourself connecting those letters to every fibre of the muscle, tailoring its beat to that single syllable, while surrounded by flowers scent and inebriated on the enchanting afterglow his presence had gently laid upon you like it was a golden veil.

… and okay, to be completely honest, there might have been some room left to slip three fingers into your panties.

And honestly, no one could’ve blamed you for it. Not when he was standing there, with that charming smile, those dimples and that accent and–

Wait a second.

… and that was when it clicked.

Holy fucking shit, you were talking to Tom Holland.

“This is by far the most idiotic thing you’ve ever done.”

Tom rolled his eyes at Harry’s sentence, deeply offended at his brother’s lack of faith in his brilliant strategy. “Wow, thanks for the support.”

“I beg to differ”, Sam spoke up as he lazily pushed the shopping cart to keep up with the others. Tom was the one who had dragged them there, but of course, he had to be the one doing all the work. Of course. Because his movie star brother needed to buy things, but was ‘too tired’. Of course.

“See?”, Tom gloated, satisfied that he could rub it in Harry’s face. “That’s how a supportive brother’s supposed to act!”

Too bad this time he hadn’t taken into consideration that Sam might have been his brother, but he remained Harry’s twin, after all…

“He hasn’t done it yet”, Sam pointed out. “So, I would say this is the most idiotic decision he’s ever made.”

Tom’s smirk fell from his face all at once, like the corners of his mouth had been hanging by thin threads that his brother’s betrayal had brutally cut off. The other spawn of the Devil’s silent, yet eloquent bragging gaze added insult to injury.

Yeah, those two were definitely made of the exact same wicked, dreamless, heartless substance. So much for sibling’s love and brotherhood.

“Okay, fuck off. The both of you”, he spat, turning his back to them.

“It’s not our fault you’re a div”, Harry said simply.

“That’s it”, Tom raised his voice, as if that could silence him, at least in his mind. “I’m done listening to you.”

All he got in response was a scoff and a dry: “As if you ever bothered to…”

“And look how good that turned out to be for me”, Tom quipped back. “I’m famous, rich, and hot.”

Harry rolled his eyes at him. “Don’t forget modest.”

“Keep that attitude and I’m firing you.”

“Fine”, Harry agreed smugly. “Good luck figuring out which foot goes first when walking.”

“The one that will be shoved up your ass if you don’t quit it.”

Before Harry could reply and somehow make it even worse, Sam decided that it was time to stop making fun of the idiot his brother and actually try to knock some sense into that thick head of his. “Tom”, he intervened, trying to make clear that he was abandoning every hostility. “Come on, mate, you’ve met this girl once–”

“Twice”, Tom corrected him as if he had just heard an unspeakable profanity and Sam had to fight many urges all at once: resorting to annihilating sarcasm was on top of the list, but slapping his brother senseless was a close second.

“Okay, twice, if we count this morning”, he conceded, struggling to sound and appear calm: dealing with a stupid love-sick – had he mentioned insanely stupid? – full-grown adult while coming from a family which wasn’t exactly known for being slow to anger was exhausting. And he wasn’t even the eldest.

I’m too young for this shit.

“But still”, he tried to reason with him. “Don’t you think this is a little too much?”

Tom stopped abruptly and turned around, a terrifying determination burning in his eyes. “Nothing is too much when it’s about true love.”

Like he hadn’t even heard that, Harry ignored him completely: he had already made the wise choice of no longer being involved in this. He was on vacation, too, for fuck’s sake!

Sam wasn’t of the same opinion, his jaw dropping to the floor, his heart skipping a beat and not in the good way. “Oh my–”, he wheezed, running a nervous hand through his locks and tugging at them, and regretting not joining – more like running away with – Paddy as soon as he had announced he would go to the beach. “Tom, you don’t even know her!”

That didn’t impact Tom’s judgement in the slightest, a dreamy smile making its way to his lips, something that would’ve made his entire fandom go over-the-moon crazy, but that only scared the shit out of Sam.

“I have the rest of my life to find out.”

“And what if she doesn’t like you?”, Sam argued. “You know relationship aren’t made by just one person, right? It could happen.”

A few creases formed on Tom’s forehead, his smile giving way to a focused expression, indicating that, as much as he liked basking in the fantasy of you keeping him forever, he was actually taking that hypothesis into consideration.

“Then I know I’m never gonna love again”, he concluded after a while.

No, Sam wasn’t just scared, he was horrified. He stood there, watching Tom walk away, unable to take another step, as if his soles of the shoes had been glued to the floor. Until Harry passed by him with the cart.

“That was from Big Fish”, was all his twin muttered with a shrug of his shoulders, when he looked at him in a silent cry for help. “The ‘rest of his life’ bit, I mean”, he explained. “He wants to act like this crazy-for-love hero and he’s not even original…”

Sam looked at Tom, then again back at Harry, a disheartened expression on his face. “Have you ever seen him like this?”

“Frankly, I hoped I’d never have to.”

“I’m serious”, Sam insisted. “I’m worried.”

“And I’m disgusted”, Harry said in a plain tone, picking up an item and examining it, seeming totally detached from what was going on in a way that made Sam feel torn between shock and envy.

“Right”, Tom spoke up, catching his brothers’ attention. “Here we are.”

Sam gulped, afraid to ask what ‘here’ implied, but in the end he found the courage to do it. What could be wrong in a glimpse of hope? “What are we looking for?”

“Hiking equipment.”

“I give up.”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckingshit.

If someone had seen him – and thank God they didn’t, because it was so early that basically no one seemed to be around yet –, they would’ve thought Tom was running for his life. Which, at least in his perspective, was nothing less than the absolute truth.

He was almost going to be late. This was supposed to be the most perfect day, the date of a lifetime, the start of a completely new era and he was almost fucking going to be fucking late. Fuck.

And on top of that, Tom felt like he had never committed so many stupid mistakes one after the other. That was a new kind of sad record.

Only the night before, he was convinced he had prepared every single detail to perfection: brand new hiking shoes, comfortable clothes, sunglasses, his beloved Knockemstiff cap – for good luck –, sunscreen… still, he had somehow found the way to mess up.

The sleeping time had been so little he wondered if he had slept at all, and he was pretty sure the answer was no, since he couldn’t remember doing anything else that wasn’t daydreaming of the upcoming encounter. And of you, of course. Which, while in the moment sounded indeed very tempting, had turned out to be an unfortunate choice.

Said unfortunate choice had sent him into a spiral of desperation the second he had discovered those dark bags under his eyes: it had taken him an urgent FaceTime call with Rachael – with a lot of patience on her part, despite the ungodly hour –, almost thirty minutes and a good amount of concealer to finally stop looking like a bunch of bullies had ganged up upon him.

But as soon as he had fixed that problem, another one had come up: the time to get ready was significantly less than he had originally planned, and everything had been rushed, if not straight up forgotten.

So now he was going to face a hiking trip in the sun without a hat, sunscreen, nor glasses, having skipped breakfast, and with shoes that would’ve been the ideal, but were still in their stupid full break-in period.

The only positive thing was that his backpack was very light… the sole reason behind it being that half of the stuff that should’ve been there wasn’t.

His muscles were begging for mercy, his lungs quite not so figuratively on fire, like every breath was filling them with unbearably scorching air. But still, he didn’t slow down, pushing his body to its limit.

No. No, he couldn’t fuck this up.

Then he saw it: a cute lilac bucket hat was the first detail that brought your figure into view and his heart swelled inside his chest. You had your back turned to him, but Tom knew it was you even before he got to see your face, and not just because you had previously made plans to meet up at that time and place.

He didn’t know how to explain it, but he just knew from that small detail. Something foreign, yet inexplicably familiar – was he getting a Peter tingle in real life? Was this the sign that he had been playing Spider-Man for too long he was letting it consume his existence? –, was somehow making him aware of your presence in a way that he had never experienced before, as if you had been an extension of his soul, or more appropriately, he had been one of yours.

… or maybe he was just projecting because he was so worn out he was getting delirious. That could’ve been a valid explanation.

His crazy run gradually died out, morphing into a more relaxed walk: he had made it, he had got there on time, now he just needed to act like he had everything under control. Like he hadn’t been on the verge of a panic attack up until a few seconds earlier.

Tom quickly fished his water bottle and some tissues out of his backpack, using them to freshen up a bit before approaching you. It was hot, and he was going to get sweaty anyways, but first impressions did matter.

He ran his hand through his hair a couple of times as a final touch, then, after deciding that it could do, he inhaled deeply – he definitely needed it – and cleared his throat.

“Hey!”

You promptly turned around and if the word ‘radiant’ had been a person, your photo would’ve been slapped under the term definition on the encyclopaedia.

“Hey there!”, you waved at him, your heart bouncing happily like a kid having the time of their life on a trampoline. “You okay?”, you asked as he got closer, the slight red flush on his cheeks not going completely unnoticed by your eyes, despite the bubble pink filter clouding them.

“I’m great!”, Tom nodded as convincingly as he could – acting classes, baby – then rapidly looked for something else, a different topic to occupy your attention with. “Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“Oh no, it’s fine”, you reassured him with a light shake of your head. “I just got here.” That one was a blatant lie, since you had arrived there almost half an hour in advance.

You wouldn’t have considered punctuality to be one of your strong suits, but anxiety usually compensated it quite well and that was exactly what had happened, with you waking up on your own thirty minutes before the alarm.

There was no need for Tom to know that, though.

“So… ready?”

“I was born ready, darling”, he confirmed, subtly waggling his unruly eyebrow at you and your stomach joined your heart on that carousel.

“Good, loving the spirit.” And loving that cute brow. “Wait…”, you paused, detecting the absence of something from his attire. “Where’s your hat?”

“My hat?”, Tom echoed you, transforming the initial gesture of touching his head into a less suspicious scratch of the back of his neck. “Oh… I didn’t bring one.”

“You wanna go back and get it? Or we can stop and buy one?”, you offered. “They sell them right–”

“No”, Tom cut you off, maybe a little more harshly than he wanted to. “Nonono, I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”, you made another attempt, not wanting to put him at risk. A hat was one of the first things you always suggested to bring and you distinctly remembered doing the same while giving him instructions. It worried you a bit that he hadn’t followed your advice. “The sun is quite strong today.”

“It’s okay, darling, really”, Tom insisted, trying to convince both you and his mind. He couldn’t have you think of him as an idiot who kept forgetting stuff right and left. Which he was, by the way, but he absolutely couldn’t let that happen. That was when he decided to go all the way with it.

“Hats have been kinda bothering me, lately.” His heart broke a little, his beloved collection of hats of any sort wincing in pain because of that betrayal. But they would have to endure it, he decided: in case the room in his heart hadn’t been enough for you, he would’ve made more in his closet.

“So, don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh… okay.” You weren’t exactly persuaded, but that was your word against his, and you didn’t wanna come off as overbearing. “Well, as long as you wore sunscreen, you won’t have any problems”, you informed him, positive to have ended that exchange on a good note. “Shall we go?”

Tom remained frozen for a few seconds, his lips getting thinner and turning upwards as his mind travelled back to the brand new bottle of sunscreen sitting still unopened on his nightstand.

Then he finally snapped out of it. “Lead the way, darling.”

Surely, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

It was the absolute fucking worst and he wanted to die.

His brother’s voice kept replaying in his mind, a bunch of ‘This is suicide, and not even that figuratively’ and ‘I told you so, idiot’ fighting for dominance carrying the banner of regret and shame.

If his morning tour-the-force had been a challenge for his body – Harry had teased him about contacting Vogue and proposing a the idea of a ‘GRWM while I’m in a Rush’ video –, this hike was straight up annihilating it, to the point he started to think he would disintegrate by the end of it, turning to dust and leaving no trace behind.

Okay, maybe that was a bit too much, but he was pretty sure his feet would start bleeding anytime soon.

The only easy part about that pretence had been interacting with you: with every passing minute he felt himself falling harder and harder. From the outside, no one would’ve been able to tell that the two of you weren’t close friends, but instead two strangers spending time together (alone) only for the second time.

Chatting with you felt as natural as breathing and that did nothing but improve his first impressions, confirming you were it for him. You had to be.

And he would’ve loved to talk with you even more – he didn’t really know if that could be physically possible, but whatever –, hadn’t it been for his current shortness of breath.

Thankfully, once you reached a lovely little meadow – ‘careful, there are fairies here’ –, you proposed a water break and he gladly accepted. Playing it off as if he considered it a reasonable idea and not a desperately needed lifesaving miracle, ça va sans dire.

So you used the remaining of a fallen tree as a bench, sitting a tad closer than necessary and facing each other, Tom with his feet on each side of the trunk and you with your legs crossed.

You looked nothing short of adorable, slightly tired, but in a satisfied way and completely at ease, your inner dryad spirit thriving now that you were in your element.

“Everything good?”, you checked in on him.

Absolutely not, but you’re worth it.

“Fantastic, darling.”

And just right after he said it, his water ran out after two sips. And he cursed himself for the umpteenth time because he didn’t have a another one.

“Uhm…” You bit the inside of your cheek, internally debating whether you should say what you wanted to say or drop it, afraid he might be weirded out by it. “Y-you want some of mine?”

Tom blinked at you in total disbelief, his gaze traveling from your eyes, to the opened bottle you were shyly handing him, to your lips and starting all over again. Eyes, bottle, lips, eyes, bottle, lips, eyes, bottle, lips…

Were you aware this was an indirect kiss?

His stomach did an Olympic somersault, pushing him down a spiral he was convinced he had finally abandoned: he felt like a bloody inexperienced teenager all over again. If sharing a bottle with you had such effect on him, how could he even fathom the idea of locking lips with you?

He was full of hope and courage up until a few seconds before, but where were they now that he needed them the most? Were they going to forsake him again at the crucial moment?

Unbeknownst to him, you were freaking out just the same, if not even more, your – conveniently back to a fifteen-year-old status – mind having the time of its life on the sappiest rom-com ride you could think of.

It’s an indirect kiss, it’s an indirect kiss, holy shit it’s an indirect kiss.

A seducing little voice came up from the depths of your brain, suggesting you to just go with it, skip the indirect stage and be as direct as you could. You silenced it, heart shrinking in the process.

“I can’t”, he refused, despite every fibre in his body yearning for it. “How are you going to–”

“I’m doing fine, and we can fill them up again later”, you countered, dissipating his doubts. “There’s also a natural spring where we are going.”

Tom gulped. “A-are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have said a thing if I wasn’t.” That sweet, kind determination and the encouraging smile you shot him destroyed all his defences, effectively making him cave. The detail that he was dying of thirst was yet another factor that played in your favour.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t even mention it.”

He brought the bottle to his lips with such reverence he could’ve been mistaken for a pilgrim drinking holy water from a sacred relic. It was strange, but also cute, the instinct of pinching his cheeks and kissing him all over his face getting harder to be fought.

To distract yourself, you took a look around like you knew precisely what to search for. In fact, you did: whenever you escorted people on that path, the meadow never failed to be one of your stops, the view from there being one of your absolute favourites.

“See that spot over there?”, you extended your arm and Tom’s eyes followed the direction of your finger pointing at the top of a hill, where the ivy-covered rests of an ancient, majestic building towered over the valley.

“Yeah.”

“It’s an old manor”, you told him, turning back towards him and dropping your hand. “Well… what remains of it. But it’s really beautiful, one of the gems of this place. There’s even an old legend about it.”

Tom tilted his head to the side, curiosity causing his eyebrows to arch and his eyes to go round.

Just like a little puppy.

“What’s it about?”, he asked, genuinely interested. During the brief time the two of you had spent together, he had discovered that he liked listening to you. More specifically, he deeply enjoyed how invested you could get when talking about something you loved.

He could only wish one day you would talk about him in the same way…

“A doomed love”, you murmured with a wistfully fond tone, as if a wave of inexplicable nostalgia was washing over you.

“Many centuries ago, that castle was built to celebrate the union of two old families through marriage”, you began your tale just the way your aunt always did. “It was a lucky match, and, most importantly, it wasn’t forced upon them, which was the exception in times like those. The families thought of it only after they noticed how fond the kids were of each other. And took the decision when they witnessed that fondness grow into love.”

Tom just nodded along, getting lost in the new memories evoked by the sound of your voice. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the suggestion, maybe you were just particularly good at enrapturing people with your stories, but your words came to life in his mind.

You were laughing, dragging him by the hand, purple silk floating around you like you were a flower as you ran down a hall that seemed never-ending.

He begged you to slow down, and in all response you just teased him, accusing him of getting old.

Next thing he knew, he had you backed up against a wall, your hands in his hair as his lips devoured yours, only stopping to implore you to accept him as your husband.

“Promise me”, he heard himself say. “Promise me you’ll marry me.”

“I already have, My Lord”, you reminded him, bumping his nose with yours.

“Promise me again.”

“Only if you promise me first.”

“They should’ve lived there after getting married… but, right on the day of the wedding, he got called to war. Some say it was because the king wanted him dead, so that he could have his young bride all to himself. He was a disgusting little man, and it seems he did shit like that quite often.”

Your narrowed eyes and the hard line of your mouth conveyed clearly how you felt regarding that particular character – or person – and Tom couldn’t help but to agree with that sentiment, anger bubbling up in his stomach for that injustice like he had been the one wronged by that king.

He could see them clear as day: the tears staining your immaculate white dress while his own were burning in his throat…

The castle was already surrounded by soldiers who, officially, were there to escort him, but in fact, had to make sure he wouldn’t escape. And he had to leave at first light.

There was nothing the two of you could do.

“Would you run away with me?”, you sobbed.

“After the ceremony, the couple disappeared from everyone’s sight. Later that night, a maid found them, naked and cuddled up under the willow they had planted together when they were kids. They had taken those few hours for themselves, making love and exchanging wows…”

You murmured that last part like it was something dear and intimate to you and it sounded so similar to the plea you whispered in his ears.

“Please, come back to me…”

It was the first time he had touched you, and he knew all too well it was also going to be the last. Deep down, you knew, too.

“I will”, he mumbled on your lips. “I will.”

Only not in that life. It was painfully clear that he was going to meet his demise on the battlefield, and not at the hands of a feared enemy.

“It’s time to go, my love…”

“And then, he had to leave at dawn. Not even a week later, he died, after getting injured during battle.” Just like it had sent him in the past, now your voice brought Tom back to the present, pulling him away from the flash of a stabbing pain erupting in his chest, like someone had just…

“The girl refused all of the king's gifts and resisted all his lures, and eventually retired to a nunnery, where he couldn’t touch her. He broke his neck trying to climb up to her window.” You couldn’t hold back a little devilish smirk while saying that.

Tom unconsciously mirrored you: the old fucker had gotten what he deserved.

“But, even if they were miles away, they both expressed the same last wish: to be buried there under their tree, so that they could reunite in the afterlife”, you concluded.

“That’s…” Tom wanted to say something deep and meaningful, but nothing came to his mind other than a single adjective. “… sad.” He had no other way to say it, and frankly, he saw no point in forcing himself to come up with something different. Yes, it was a simple word, and it was enough.

“It is…”, you confirmed with a sigh. “There’s a silver lining to it, though.”

Tom hardly imagined how such a miserable story could have a silver lining, but that didn’t reduce his interest. And mentioning it had brought hope back into your eyes, so it had to be true.

“Legend has it that if a proposal takes place right under the willow, the wedding is gonna be an extremely happy one. Because the ghosts of the two lovers are gonna do everything in their power to protect the union they didn’t get to experience.”

That’s it, we’re definitely going there next.

“It sounds nice.” His own brain slapped the front of his head at how lame his response was. ‘Nice’. He had tried to control himself and his reactions so much it turned back against him.

Great job, Tom. Fucking great job.

“Yeah, that’s why my mom proposed to my dad there”, you confirmed, finally getting up and stretching your legs, preparing to walk again, fully reinvigorated by the hopeful ending that connected your family to that old tale.

Tom slowly felt all the blood abandoning his face: the pause had lasted so little and, by the looks of it, you seemed a bit too interested in that castle up on the hill. “And that’s where we’re going?”, he asked, trying to buy some extra time.

Had you changed your mind last minute? As much as he loved the idea of you guiding him to a super romantic place, he wasn’t entirely sure he could handle it right now.

He stood up as well, anxiously waiting for the verdict.

“Oh no”, you shook your head, the wonderful movement of your head giving Tom some life years back.

Thank God.

“We’re doing something easier today.”

Easier?, Tom thought, gaze falling to the ground as he scratched his nape. He really needed to get back on track with his training. Before his last project, he would’ve faced that path with his eyes closed.

“We’ll be back in the late afternoon, that would take the whole day and a night of camping.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you both nearly sighed in delight, the invitingly romantic scenario of sleeping next to each other under a sky full of stars slipping past your logic walls.

“But it can be our next adventure if you feel like it.”

“Are you implying you want me to propose to you, darling?”

His dashing, pearly-white smile caught you more off guard than needed: one second you were looking – more like gawking in pure adoration without an ounce of shame nor self-respect – at him, and the next one you were tripping over your own feet the way kittens did because their little legs were still too short.

Absolutely pathetic.

But Tom had no time for your self-deprecating thoughts and stupid metaphors, because the instant he saw you losing your balance, he bolted towards you – the sudden rush of adrenaline shooting through him enough to make him forget about his current suffering, at least for a few moments –, a hand encircling your arm and the other one gripping your waist, effectively stabilizing you.

You let out a gasp – whether it was for the scare, his prompt reaction, or the feeling of his big, strong hands on your skin, you thought it was less humiliating not to find out – then forced yourself to laugh to shake all of that off.

“Not my most professional moment, huh?” You spoke before he could, quickly jumping at the occasion to change the subject dominating your mind.

The ghost of his question to check if you were alright was still laying on his slightly parted lips, but you blatantly ignored it. “Guess I’m a little out of shape”, you cackled, while the embarrassment was eating you alive.

Then you realized he hadn’t let go of you yet, so you rapidly freed yourself from his hold, clearing your throat and mumbling an awkward ‘thank you’.

“Every time I return here, it takes me a couple of days to fully get back on track”, you explained, taking a couple steps back. But then you saw how that innocent joke could’ve been perceived as the truth.

“Just kidding, I promise”, you clarified. “You’re safe with me.”

You were expecting a dry remark, a polite tight-lipped smile that had the word ‘incompetent’ written all over it, or maybe even the request of going back and getting a refund… but none of that happened.

Tom lightly tilted his head to the side, his eyes watering a bit, just enough for the sunlight to make it look like they were precious obscure gems, the tenderness you met in them making you weak in the knees.

“I have no doubt I am.”

“Here we are”, you announced, turning with a joyous smile and widening your arms, proud of that place like you had been the one helping Mother Nature design it. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

You resumed your hike, both still a bit shaken by the unexpected feelings that break had carried along, but refusing to bring them up, the unspoken agreement making your shoulders lighter and your hearts heavier, granting you a short-term relief that was, by no doubt, destined to fester and degenerate into pure torment in the long run.

“Yeah…”

Amazing, indeed.

“This is where the legend wants the lovers to have shared their first kiss.”

This time, instead of Sam’s voice, Tom had Harry’s ringing in his ears: he had exposed his Big Fish quote and now – the irony – he was in a scenario that might’ve looked like it had just popped out of that film and incorporated into that wonderful panoramic spot, the daffodils spreading until the edge of the cliff, their bright colour a vivid contrast to the azure blue of the ocean.

The pics he had found online while organizing the perfect plan didn’t make it an ounce of justice. However, he had to give credit to his past self: it truly was the ideal place for a first kiss.

“Stunning.”

You giggled at his comment, and even found the courage to take his hand, guiding him towards the centre of the field.

Tom just followed your lead, adoration shining in his eyes, your fingers intertwined with his giving him a sense of completeness he hadn’t felt in a while. Maybe for literal centuries.

It might’ve sounded cheesy, but you looked like a fucking celestial vision. Tom had never been a religious zealot, and yet he could’ve sworn he had never been closer to an episode of mystical ecstasy.

“Stunning…”, he murmured breathlessly, and he wasn’t just saying it to compliment you, he truly meant it.

You stood there among golden flowers that swayed in the gentle breeze reminding him of little ladies in waiting attending to their queen. And then there was the ocean, glistening behind your lovely figure, its colour a perfect mirror of the clear sky above.

Tom could’ve sworn he had never seen anything or anyone that mesmerizing, that wild untouched scenery representing the perfect frame for the masterpiece that you were, the lilac hat making you stand out even more.

“You okay?”

It was weird: you were so close, and yet your voice sounded like it was coming from so far. But bloody hell, you were so pretty even with a concerned look on your face…

What on Earth could you be concerned about?

“Stunning…”, he repeated a third time in a faint voice, a dopey smile altering his features.

“Tom…” You let go of his hand, cupping his cheeks instead and he instantly melted into your touch.

Your heart sank to your stomach when you felt his skin burning against your palms. “I-I think you should sit down”, you stuttered, trying to think straight.

Fuck, he was not okay, how could you not have seen it?!

You grabbed him by the shoulders, needing to get a reaction out of him. “Do you want some water? I can go and get it…”, your voice broke, tears gathering in your eyes and getting caught in your lashes like pearls of dew. You were doing nothing to hold them back.

But he kept silent, his dark chocolate eyes staring at you, but slowly starting not to see you anymore.

“Tom?”

I’m back, my love…

The last thing he could register was your terrified scream of his name right before his body hit the ground like a bag of rocks.

“Tom!”

“Tom…”

“Tom? Oi, are you awake?”

Someone was shaking his shoulder, someone else was holding his hand, and he was lying on something soft that had every bone and muscle in his body sing joyous hymns.

Tom slowly blinked his eyes open, adjusting them to the light and taking in the surroundings of his room back at the B&B.

“He’s awake”, Paddy stated.

“Tom, darling”, his mother gasped, reaching out to stroke his hair. “Thank God…”

“Mom?”, he croaked out in a raspy voice. “W-where…” He knew where he was, so he probably needed to ask something different. “What…?”

“You… you fainted while you were hiking”, she informed him.

“What?”, he repeated, propping himself up on his elbows, two concerned Sam and Harry entering his field of view.

Nikki and Paddy wasted no time in helping him seat up, making sure he wouldn’t lose his balance and fixing his pillows, so that he could rest against them. His mother offered him a glass of water that he gratefully chugged down in less than five seconds. It didn’t help him much, but it was something.

Still processing what was going on – and it wasn’t easy with that pounding headache – Tom took a glance at the mirror hanging on the wall… and wished he hadn’t as soon as he did. The person staring back at him was his spitting image and at the same time, somehow appeared completely different.

The skin of his face and neck was an unhealthy shade of red, and no matter how much cream they had applied, it looked – and felt – like sandpaper, so dry that it was starting to peel on his nose. Not to mention the disastrous situation his hair was in, making him resemble an unkempt cat more than an actual human being.

Tom turned towards his family again – he could’ve sworn Paddy was there with them, but now he was nowhere to be seen… weird –, his brows furrowing interrogatively.

“H-how…?”

“Exhaustion because you were in no shape to do it?”, Sam spoke up before the others, his tone halfway between worried and mocking. “A fucked up sleep schedule you still have to fix? Sunstroke because you forgot to put a hat on and wear sunscreen, despite being pale as a ghost? I’d say you are spoiled for choice.”

Ghost…

“Where’s y/n?!”, he urged, feeling his whole body starting to tremble.

“In the hall, you moron.”, Sam scoffed. “You have her to thank for being here.”

You had saved him… at least that told him you were okay. That whatever he was going through had spared you.

“That poor girl…”, Nikki recalled, her voice laced with compassion and gratitude. “She called us and then carried you back so that your father and Harry could meet you halfway… she looked so scared.”

She carried me back?

Sam glared at Tom. “You probably gave her a belated heart attack.”

Harry couldn’t hold back a snort, managing to find humour even under such circumstances. “When they say aim for the heart…”

“You’re lucky you didn’t hit your head.”

“Is he, now? That probably could’ve made him smarter.”

“Boys, please–”

“I have to go to her!”, Tom yelled all of a sudden, breaking the calm reigning in the room.

“Fuck no, you’re not.”

“Sam!”, Nikki hissed, fearing that an aggressive approach might make her eldest son even more uncooperative. “Tom, I don’t think that’s a good idea”, she tried to be the voice of reason. “You should rest–”

“No, I have to go and see y/n–”, Tom trailed off, and with a newly found vigour that surprised him first and then all the others, he discarded the covers and jumped off the bed, not even noticing that he was barefoot.

Dodging Harry, he stumbled upon the door, grabbing – or rather throwing all of his weight – onto the handle. He was ready to bolt down the corridor on his still wobbly legs, but the sudden appearance of you, standing right there in front of him, stopped him dead in his tracks.

“H-hey…”

You looked so small, so fragile and broken he felt his soul screaming at him to wrap his arms around you, hold you tight and never let you go.

“y/n…”

“Paddy must’ve told her.”

“I was wondering where he was…”

Not again. Don’t lose her again.

Two pairs of hands grabbed him just as his legs gave way, your terrified face slipping away from his vision while he almost sank into the floor.

“Holy shit!”, you jumped, immediately moving forward to do something. “Do you guys need help?”

“We can take it”, Sam grunted, struggling to handle his deadweight of a brother as him and Harry carried him back to the bed. “No worries.”

“Yeah, it’s fine”, Harry echoed.

You fumbled restlessly with the lilac hat in your hands, finding it hard to believe them without a doubt, Tom’s limp body digging a hole in your heart.

And it was all your fault…

Nikki stood up from her chair and came to your side, touching your shoulder. “It’s alright, my child, you’ve done enough”, she tried to calm you with a motherly tone. “Did you get some rest?”, she checked, gently guiding you inside the room.

You nodded absently, your eyes fixed on Tom who was recovering from his temporary faint, focusing om what was around him for the second time in less than five minutes.

He held his breath when he saw you and realised you were there, and that you were as real as he was.

This time, you didn’t greet him, remaining still as a statue.

“Uhm…” Hadn’t he already been the same colour of a lobster, Tom was sure he would’ve blushed violently, but now he couldn’t even tell the difference depending on how hot his skin felt, since it was constantly burning the way it usually did whenever he would get a fever. For that, he wasn’t going to complain: yes, he looked hideous, but at least his embarrassment wasn’t written all over his face, for once.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, Nikki’s attentive gaze bounced back and forth between you and her son, eyes narrowing and lips pressing together to hide the hint of a smile.

Tom coyly turned to his family. “Could you guys give us a moment?”

Sam was about to question if that was appropriate, considering his state, but the silent look Nikki sent his way spoke volumes: ‘Don’t’.

So, they all nodded and quietly left the room without a protest. Only Harry felt the need to… well, be Harry.

“Don’t be fooled”, he warned you, fake-whispering. “He’s never this nice.”

Tom rolled his eyes so hard his head hurt, but chose not to comment on that, not letting his brother get to him.

“Please, have a seat”, he told you, gesturing weakly.

Much to his surprise – and he meant it in the best way possible – you made the bold decision to ignore the chair and instead sat on the bed, right next to him, your knuckles brushing against his, the soft noise amplified by the deafening silence.

You chewed down on your lip, then took a deep breath. “I know it might sound like a stupid question, but… how are you?”

“I’m good”, Tom nodded slowly, preferring to avoid any sharp movements. The effect of your presence was still stronger than his discomfort, though, a cheeky grin climbing its way up to his lips on its own account. “Not my best angle, I’m afraid, and I don’t have a lighting technician to make my face appear unbearably handsome, but I’m good.”

You didn’t laugh, your shoulders sagging and your head dropping between them.

“I don’t know how it…”, you babbled, your fingers torturing the hat. “How I couldn’t… fuck, I feel like an idiot.”

“What?” It was the third time he was asking the same question in less than five minutes: he really didn’t like that feeling. Just like he was appalled of hearing you say such things about yourself.

Why were you feeling like an idiot when he was the one who had originated that whole mess?

“I should’ve paid more attention, I should’ve noticed that something was off and that you weren’t okay.”

“I’m an actor, darling”, he sighed. “Deceiving people is in my nature.”

Oh…

So he didn’t like you.

“Yeah, and keeping them safe should be in mine”, you argued, voice breaking on the last syllable. “Fuck… I’m sorry.” A sob shook your chest and you let go of the hat to bury your face in your palms, feeling the waterworks were about to start. “I’m so fucking sorry, this was all my fault…”

“No, y/n, no!”, Tom exclaimed, reaching out and grabbing your shoulders, preventing you from standing up like he knew you were about to do. In fact, in the heat of the moment he drew you even closer. “Please, don’t say that. Don’t even think about it”, he pleaded as your front brushed against his, your breaths mixing together. “I’m the one who made a mess and pretended everything was fine, you couldn’t have known! You saved me.”

“Still…”, you stubbornly objected, your hand resting onto his chest a not so convinced attempt to tone down his sudden burst of emotion. “I should’ve–”

“No, y/n, please, listen to me.” He cupped your wet cheeks, handling your face with the same sweet care you had used towards him right before the accident.

“I wasn’t in the physical condition to go for a hike. Before I met you, my plan was to sleep throughout the entire vacation. To give you the idea, those shoes I wore were brand new… I got them right for the occasion. And this morning I skipped breakfast, I forgot to put sunscreen on and left my hat and sunglasses at the hotel and I overslept and I was running late. And I refused to buy a new hat because I didn’t want you to think I’m an idiot who keeps forgetting his own stuff… not to mention that the reason I barely slept last night is because I kept daydreaming about today and how I had to do my best to impress you… this was all my fault, not yours.”

By the time he was done with his monologue, he was out of breath and, despite not having uttered a sound, the same could be said about you.

Your parted lips slightly distracted him for a second – maybe more than a second –, but then Tom came back to his senses and did the right thing, letting go of you. He didn’t really want to, but he had to.

“You…” After his revelation, your thoughts were running wild, so fast you couldn’t keep track of them all. “… you wanted to impress me?”

“Uhm… yeah.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then pushed his hair out of his forehead, the rebel curl falling back into place just to spite him. “I wanted to get you to say ‘Oh, I can see myself going out with him’ or some shit like that.”

“… why?”

“Because I like you”, he answered candidly, leaving your lungs yearning for air.

“What?”

“Yeah, I’ve had the biggest crush on you since we first met…”, Tom confessed, cringing immensely at having to call it a crush, but he didn’t have much choice, did he? It wasn’t like he could just go: ‘Oh yeah, our first date wasn’t even over and in my head we were already choosing the flowers for your wedding bouquet while I was getting lost in the daydream of a past life with you that would make us soulmates’… no, that wasn’t even an option.

“Not at the hotel, but–”

“At the beach”, you completed the sentence for him with a soft smile.

“You–?”

“I remember.”

He had told you he’d just got there with his family, but that he needed a moment to himself. You had offered to leave, yet he had asked you to stay.

“A-and I wanted to get to know you, but like an idiot I didn’t even ask for your name or tell you mine…”, Tom recalled, not at all proud of himself. “But then we met again and… call me stupid, but it felt like destiny. And when you mentioned you were a hiking guide, that felt even more like a sign.”

“A sign?”

“Yeah…” Tom felt like he was a kid who had just made a mess and was now accounting for it to his parents. “Think of it: you and I, on our own, walking side by side in such beautiful scenery. Spending time together, getting to know each other…” He remembered how he had described everything to his brothers within those same walls that were now witnessing his humbling defeat. “And then reaching a panoramic spot…”

… that would’ve been perfect for our first kiss.

“So, let me get this right…”, you tried to put order in your thoughts. “You did something you don’t like–”

“No wait, I do like hiking”, he rectified. “I just… wasn’t in the right shape to do it, I guess…”

“So you forced yourself to go through all that… only to spend time with me?”

“And now everything is ruined”, Tom whined pitifully. “I look hideous and in these conditions, hiking will be off-limits for me…”

He would have to give up on the haunted ruins, there was no way in the World his family was gonna let him go there or even step in that direction. It was all over.

“You know you could’ve simply asked me out, right?”

“Yeah, but now I won’t be able to join you and spend… wait, what?” He stopped, registering what you had just told him. “Wait, what?”, he repeated, incredulous. “You mean you would’ve said yes?”

“I means I would still say yes…”, you corrected his sentence, wiggling your eyebrows at him. “But for now, I think you should rest. I could show you the roses and jasmines I planted with my aunt, though, I’m very proud of them.”

He was too stunned to speak, not believing his unapologetic luck, and his jaw literally dropped.

“And you could use this.”

With his mind unable to summon a single coherent word, Tom just followed the course of your actions as you picked up your hat from your lap, smoothed its wrinkles and then placed it onto his head, leaning forward and bumping the tip of your nose with his and then even going as far as kissing it, while doing so.

“You look pretty in lilac.”

A/n: Yeah, that was sappy af and I’m not even sorry about it hehehe~ thank you for reading, love you! 💜

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[spacedlexi]

have you read the clementine book? if so what are your thoughts?

i said a lot of my thoughts when the book was first announced,, and thought it was going to suck for a myriad of reasons,,,

and i was right lol

i havent read it 100% myself since i refuse to engage with it and i pretend it doesnt exist, but ive seen pages of it here and there and ive read other in depth reviews out of morbid curiosity and its just...................... it sucks so much...........................

putting this under a read more for those of u also pretending this comic doesnt exist so u can continue on ur day 💕

clem as a character has reverted back to her s3 self, and not even the end of s3 but the beginning of it before she opened up to the garcias and was just an angry distrustful loner who was tired of watching everyone she cared about die around her (which is why she pushed people away..and its like... a major part of her character development for s3.. and is now being used as her development for this book that takes place AFTER S4!!). so not only are we getting a complete retcon basically of s4, but also s3 technically?? who is this person this is not post s4 clem. this is literally 13/14 year old clem

ALSO can i just say.. when i read the synopsis and it said she was "moving into a new community of teens" i was expecting it to actually be like.....a Community...... and not LITERALLY JUST LIKE 3 PEOPLE.......... 2 of which are our store brand minnie/sophie stand-ins and the 3rd is a a half baked love interest. actually its worse than half baked. her calling clem "baby" made me choke. i was also expecting amos and whatever her name is to both be possible love interests (even tho i wasnt thrilled by the idea of either of them. louis and violet are good thanks), but no amos gets with one of the sisters and dies 💀 and the girl is calling clem "baby" before book 1 is even over................................................................ LIKE WHAT IS THIS. also why tf are these 3 TEENAGERS..ALONE... building new houses?? in the middle of winter in VERMONT!!?!?!?!?? make it make sense im begging. AND!!! theyre LEAVING!! this community!!!! at the end of the book??? WHAT?? not only did they scrap the s4 teen community but their own freaking teen community as well and now theyre going to an island or something??? and its sounding like an "island of dr moreau" reference so thats... idk im bored already. like what are we doing. what is this

and i cannot BELIEVE... clems reasoning for leaving the school.... is that she felt like the kids were treating her differently?? that people thought since she lost her leg that she was like.. useless?? the ericson kids would QUITE LITERALLY NEVER. you know aside from the fact that louis or violet could end s4 with their own disability giving them something in common with clem since they receive their injuries at basically the same time and are getting used to their new limitations side by side... HOW MANY TIMES... did clem hear from different kids... that they owe their lives to her, that she protected them and gave them a fighting chance, that she turned ericsons into a safe place worth fighting for and saved them from being a bunch of scared kids hiding in the woods just waiting for something to happen to them, how without her theyd all be child soldiers or dead....... ericsons as a community was all about these traumatized abandoned kids banding together to take care of each other in a harsh world where everyone neglected and forgot about them. they were a bunch of "troubled" kids nobody wanted not even their own families, who each were suffering from their own issues and became a tight knit group where they all looked out for each other. WHERE... IN ANY OF THIS..... does it make sense for clem to feel ostracized?? for them to treat her differently??? just because of her leg (which again shes not the only one with a disability)?? which aj specifically states he will make her a new one? lets also not get into the fact of what her losing her leg is supposed to symbolize because ive said it a million times. but i guess it makes sense for that to be retconned too since its all about her not being on the road anymore and how she has a stable and safe community of people she loves who she can rely on (which is what shes been wanting since...forever). cant have that if we're gonna shove her out on the road again and give her the same problems she had when she was young teen

also.. why tf.. does clem suddenly know NOTHING?? about WOUND CARE?? lets ignore the fact that shes leaving the school before her leg is even completely healed (wtf). but like......clem has known basic wound care since SEASON 2.. an entire scene is literally clem escaping the shed because she knows itll be bad if her dog bite is left to fester. so she breaks into the house. steals supplies to clean and patch herself up. and then LITERALLY. CLEANS AND STITCHES HERSELF... AT 11 YEARS OLD. leading to the classic and iconic "im still not bitten" line. and aside from literally everything shes learned on the road, theres also ruby? who was literally trained by the school nurse and was definitely taking care of clem and her wound and you KNOW ruby would be on top of it too like "clem did you clean today did you change your bandages let me know if you need help i have more bandages if you need them also painkillers and dont forget to rest"

also i have to just quick mention how fuckin Lame it is that she names her prosthetic "kenny" fuck off. having a character say "yeah. thats a good name" does not make it a good name that actually makes it more glaring honestly. and her flashbacks about lee and how shes like.. mad at him for not saving her or something?? or for like leaving her alone or whatever? its so.. like.. what the fuck... i hate it so much... it feels so childish honestly?? clem never blamed lee for Anything he fought so hard for her and she knows that. i feel like if anything she would have guilt for running away in the first place since its the reason he got bit? its not HIS fault he fuckin died. and he walked through hell to make sure he got her to safety

ok. i think thats everything new i have to add. there were a lot of other problems too but i dont feel like sitting here ripping this book to shreds again i just want to pretend it doesnt exist. ive at least completely separated it from the rest of twdg and i can look at it as its own mess. that is NOT clementine and i can say that with 1000% certainty now. now its just like watching a car wreck. but i know that clem is still back at ericsons enjoyin her fuckin life and vibing

#twdg #skybound x #i think thats the tag i used for it #replies with lexi #incognito #it sucks...i hate it... #ive seen some people say that if it wasnt clem and was instead some random new character it wouldnt be so bad #but idk #i think it still has problems separate from clem being the main character #but it being clem is definitely where the most of the problems stem from

[overescapeau]

§ Welcome to the world of the OverEscape! AU §

An AU that takes place on a desert-like island due to the monsters sealing themselves away from the humans in the four-decade war. Now then… let us explore!

(If you want to learn about the war between humans and monsters, head over to the Prologue Comic for this au!)

:: Surprisingly for a small island, there is a variety of many well-known locations in the world of OverEscape! The main ones being known as…

The Bunker/Ruins

The Amaryllis Desert

Dunestowne

Cavern Falls

Magma City

The Capital (also known as The Kingdom of Riesla)

The Docks

:: Which are all places Frisk must be pass through in order to escape back to Mt.Ebbot harbor.

:: Now then! Let us get into the details of these areas!

The Bunker/Ruins: An old bunker created by the monsters as safe passage/safe haven when the humans had threatened to bomb the monsters once more. Sadly the threat became reality, causing all the monsters to flee towards the caverns and caves up in the mountains across the desert. Some monsters still reside in this area, but just barely. The place is still infested with Snail serpents after all, so its not too ideal…

The Amaryllis desert: The desert that circles around the whole island. Its infested with Ember Stalkers (flower creatures that eat/hunt anything) instead of Snail Serpents. Nobody dares exploring it often because of them…

Dunestowne: The only town that resides above ground. It resembles a western-look and has a large population compared to the Ruins. Here they have Grillby’s, Muffet’s Munchies, The Shop, Librabru, and Sans’ Green House (which is just his house). The Taxi Man has a route through here.

Cavern Falls: An old abandoned mineshaft that has been carved out over the years. Due to its surplus of water and condensation compared to the outside, many plants such as lichen, moss, and even ferns grow in here. There are multiple rivers and three major waterfalls in this cavern, lending it to be one of the most beautiful place to visit while on the island (cant forget to mention the crystals). However it does have the tendency to have cave-ins and mass floods during the winter season…. but that hasn’t happened in years. You can find Temmie’s Village, Captain Undyne’s house, and Gerson’s Corner here.

Magma City: An underground city you can reach by passing through Cavern Falls. It runs off the power of The Core and the energy of a huge river that comes from The Capital. “Think of a Neo City, thats Magma city”, as their slogan goes. Their famous Mettaton The Killer Robot films here! Hes the one and only star around after the famous COOLSKELETON95 had mysteriously disappeared… Some say he wanted to escape stardom and start a new life… either way his past devoted fans still hope for his return one day. Luckily the city has no danger except for the magma that boils around it! Of course, the MTT Hotel, Sans’s plant stand, Muffet’s Mansion, the MTT Resort, all of its there.

The Capital (The Kingdom of Riesla): Named after King Asriel and Asgore, the Kingdom of Riesla is well- The Kingdom. Its where the royal members of the family live and all the monsters who want to be safe at all costs from any danger. Although its been narrowed down to only one King due to the loss of King Asgore and Queen Toriel (after her banishment and King Asgore’s passing…), the King has high hopes for freedom. He keeps on insisting that their “very close” to reversing the curse of the barrier using the runes. Only time will tell…

The Docks: A boating dock that houses the biggest and only harbor on the island. You can only reach this place by crossing through the Capital and Castle. Which will prove tough since the king, Asriel, will attempt to stop you. The dock itself also has many boats ready for transport when the barrier finally breaks. Allowing the monsters to finally sail back home after all these years.

:: And that is it when it comes to the world of the OverEscape! AU! If you want more details such as magic and types of monsters, check out these links down bellow!

Magic!

Souls!

#undertale au #overescape blog #undertale #overescape #overescape au #overescapeau #art #my art #original art #digital art #overescape au talk #overescape au lore

[gikairan]

God theres photos of the stand ins from the Sonic movie sequel and... I can't take them seriously

Tails, are you okay bud?? Tails???

Tails????

The lights are on but nobody is home

Honestly, seeing these characters, half the size of a human and brightly coloured standing on a pile of rubble is making me crack up.

#the consensus im seeing is knuckles looks gr8 and i have to agree #but these stand ins look SO out of place its comical #also if anyone is wondering why the hell they have these- #they act as both lighting reference for the CG artists #and a guide for the human actors to know where the CG characters are #but god just trying to deliver lines while looking at Tails' dead eyes..... im not sure i could take it seriously

[cblgblog]

I know I’m probably beating a dead horse at this point but I feel like it isn’t talked about enough how the accord do not and will never affect Tony the same way they’ll affect those like Steve & Wanda. Tony can always just blow up all of his suits again & go back to a fully normal life if he wants to. He doesn’t have to wear a tracking bracelet, or submit dna samples, or fear getting shoved into a straight jacket or electroshock collar if he gets arrested. I’ll I just don’t think it’s addressed enough how blatantly privileged Tony & other normal humans like rhodey & nat would be under the accords compared to their other teammates. No wonder they were so supportive of them from the beginning.

Ah, but what is fandom for if not the beating of dead horses?

I agree with you. I generally prefer the film over the comic event (granted I haven’t read it in a few years now), but I do like that the Civil War comic had more time to discuss those civil liberties issues. Like, the damn thing, as with most comics events, is annoyingly massive. Not if you just read the core 6 books of the main CW storyline, but the tie-ins, oh my God the tie-ins. Comic events and their damn tie-ins…

For the sake of telling a fuller story though, I do like that the comics had so damn much. There was much more room for side content, for lesser characters who aren’t in the MCU, or weren’t, at the time. There’s a fuller picture of why various people are taking the sides they do. Some of those reasons make more sense than others, but yeah.

There’s a bit from the comics that I’ve posted before where Tony and Peter (mid 20’s, his own hero Peter, not Frankenstein, Tonky Jesus fanboy Peter) are arguing about the Registration Act—as it’s called in the comics—and talking about the civil liberties being violated. Being a 2006 book, it’s got a very post 9/ll, Guantanamo Bay theme going. The lack of trial, of legal representation, the prison that’s even worse than The Raft. There are several scenes like this as I recall, and yeah, the film is sorely missing them in places. You kind of see it with Team Cap in The Raft, but it’s very much a quick thing in the larger narrative of the film, and that’s annoying.

I’m not exactly advocating for this, because the film version with it’s smaller focus works a lot better in many respects, but I do sometimes think of the alternate reality where Disney Plus existed sooner, and Civil War was turned into a series instead of a film. Say six episodes, match the number of installments in the main comic event, eight eps if you wanted to push it. Then we could get something that delved deeper into what these documents actually say, what the public’s reaction to them is, how they would affect people besides our core Avengers group.

Show some kid like Peter who has abilities but doesn’t want to go out and fight bad guys, just wants to live a normal life. Show someone who can’t reveal their Enhanced nature to friends or family because it wouldn’t be safe for that person. Show the every day or every day-ish people (ala the Netflix shows) and where they stand on this. Wanda talks about people being scared of her after the Lagos incident and you kind of see that, but not really. Actually show that. Show the fears that people have of these Enhanced people, the legit and less legit ones, and show the other side too, the regular, every day people who still look at this and say hey, no, hang on, this is wrong.

Again, not necessarily saying I’d want this over the film, but if the Mouse overlords ever wanted to revisit that storyline and expand on it, I wouldn’t complain.

And yeah, people have talked about this too, but it kind of sucks the way the film handled everyone and their reasons for siding how they did. Steve is all about choice and keeping the government from abusing its citizens ala Hydra, Tony’s got his whole, we need to be kept in check thing, but very few of our other players land where they land because of the actual Accords. Nat doesn’t want her Avengers family to fall apart, and wants to maintain some control over the situation rather than none. Rhodey’s the career military man who (generally) follows orders and hey, if this is what most people want, we don’t get to just decide eh, no thanks. Panther doesn’t care about any of this, dude just picks the team that’s going after Bucky. Peter doesn’t know what the fuck he is actually fighting for, Tony didn’t tell him, Scott and Clint are there because Cap asked, and also, presumably, because of the danger the Accords would put their family in, but that second point is never explicitly stated.

And Sam…I feel like we really got fucking robbed with Sam, especially in light of what we’ve learned about his character in Falcon and WS. The film doesn’t much go into his reasoning, beyond the fact he believes in Cap, he’s Cap’s ride or die, etc. But given the history he has in Falcon and WS, again, we were robbed. Dude is all about making sure minorities aren’t oppressed, aren’t punished for existing. Dude is very much aware of the double-standards in this country. I know that stuff was written in later, but my God did we miss out on a Sam monologue about this in CW. Sam, who’s like Nat and Tony in that he can theoretically hang up the wings and be free of the Accords, but still takes the other side. Would’ve been hella interesting to see Sam and Rhodey’s little argument they have about it be an actual scene, an actual debate. Sam who knows of the US government and it’s unjust laws and abuse of power, knows it long before he hears of Isiah Bradley. Who has those nephews that will have to grow up in a post-Accords world. It just would’ve been super interesting to see Rhodey and Sam, both Black men who joined the military, one who left, one who didn’t, have an actual discussion on why they feel what they feel. Even discounting the finer details of the Sam stuff, the stuff that wasn’t written yet, it would’ve been cool.

And, of course it would’ve been awesome to see Tony and the non-powered on Team Iron Man (but mostly Tony) get called out on their privilege with this issue, but that of course couldn’t happen, because Tony has plot immunity. Let fire and lightning pour forth and destroy all who dare to question the wisdom of Tonky Jesus, praise be to Tonky and all he has given us.

#pro steve rogers #pro team cap #anti tony stark #anti tony stans #anti team iron man #anti iron man #sam wilson #fatws

[haunthouse]

welcome to a meta that, in retrospect, seems glaringly obvious, but that has hit me like a freight train this morning. we’re talking about the lonely as a ghost story.

ghosts as an entity are inherently about disconnect. but kaylee, i hear you say, ghosts are dead people, wouldn’t that make them in the end’s domain? but when it comes down to it, death is a good framing device for ghosts (and yeah, it’s necessary to make ghosts), but people don’t tell ghost stories just because they’re afraid of death. ghost stories are told because ghosts are irrevocably disconnected from the living in a way that terrifies us — sometimes they’re intentionally scary, knocking shit around or yelling boo!, but a lot of the time they’re just... there. and that’s the terrifying part. something that’s there and shouldn’t be; something that can’t interact with the world around it and is completely, utterly, terrifyingly alone.

ghost stories are about isolation, about being a person without any of the framework that being a person requires, without society or connection or love. being unseen and unheard and unknown to all around you — and trying so hard to reverse all those un-words, to be seen, heard, known. that’s exactly the domain of the lonely!

and onto the meat of this meta: all nine lonely-centric statements (and the journey of one martin blackwood) through the lens of ghost stories.

(spoilers for mag170 at the end, but each episode section is clearly marked, so feel free to skip it if you haven’t gotten that far yet!)

MAG013: ALONE

the first lonely statement we get (and also the first in-person statement! which is such a good inversion of the lonely being about lack of connection! jon doesn’t do a great job of comforting naomi, but he does stay with her as she gives the statement when she asks!! that’s beside the point but it is something i really love), and right off the bat, the ghost vibes are off the charts.

truly i am feeling absolutely idiotic for not really thinking about the ghosts-lonely connection before now because this statement? peak ghost story.

naomi’s fiance dies. naomi has several near-death experiences (crashes her car, then is hit by another car and winds up in the hospital), which is also a staple in a lot of ghost stories; nearly dying is set up as a way to get the living closer to the realm of ghosts, able to interact with them more clearly. it was a dark and foggy night in a graveyard, and standing at evan’s (open, empty) grave, naomi hears his disembodied voice leading her home.

when ghost stories are told from a distance, they’re about the horror of it — disembodied howling, faces in the window that keep you up at night. but when they’re told by someone close to the now-ghost, they’re love stories. it’s my grandmother hearing her father’s breathing one last time after his death, giving her a chance to say goodbye. it’s a familiar and loving presence, comforting you. that’s what naomi’s story is — the ghost of evan showing his love for her one final time.

MAG033: BOATSWAIN’S CALL

so, ships are meant to be places of community, right? ron @gerrydelano​ has a really good post about this regarding shanties. but ghost ships are an established trope of ghost stories: the inversion of what a ship should be, lacking all life and community, silently traversing the waters on its own.

the tundra is a ghost ship. it’s quiet (”very quiet... it was like they were doing everything in their power not to think about each other”) — the people there move around one another as if none of them are there, all so taken by the lonely. their cargo containers are empty. all they’re transporting on that ship is the ghosts of those aboard.

this episode falls into the trope of ghosts want the living to join them — though there’s still a mourning atmosphere when sean kelly is taken fully by the lonely, that final bit of life on the ship extinguished. (”no one said a word, but i could have sworn a few of my shipmates were crying.”)

MAG048: LOST IN THE CROWD

this one’s one of my favorites! andrea nunis’ statement deals with different kinds of loneliness — she begins it with explaining that she prefers to travel alone, but later, that loneliness is something terrifying. she’s in a crowd of unrecognizable people, unable to fit herself into the world she’s seeing — she’s completely separate from the rest of the world. she’s a ghost. 

“it wasn’t italian being spoken ... or any other language i recognized. the more i listened, the more i realized it wasn’t a language. there were no words, it was just noise.” “their faces were a blur, each and every one of them.” and, the crowning point: “i tried to talk to them or to shout, to scream at them, but there was no reaction.”

by being taken in by the lonely, andrea’s been turned into a ghost. she cannot interact with or even recognize her environment, and that’s the real horror — it isn’t just being alone, it’s being surrounded by something that should be familiar; a crowd is something she’s been in a thousand times, as someone who travels a lot, and people are the most familiar thing in the world, like looking in a mirror! but it isn’t. everything is strange and she is outside of it all and that’s what a ghost is.

and her connection to her mother is what pulls her out. people have talked at length about how love is the antidote to the lonely so i won’t go on too long about that, but the connection between that & ghosts’ relationships to the living often being what keeps them around is sure something.

also, after getting out of the lonely andrea says “i made sure i was always in sight of at least one other person” — and there’s something to be said there about needing to be seen to be real. 

chiara @red-reys​ brought up this feuerbach quote which fits very well: “that which i alone perceive i doubt; only that which the other also perceives is certain.” being the only one to perceive something (for example, a ghost), or the only one who is utterly unperceived, is a very lonely thing — it isolates you entirely from those who do not perceive it. being perceived, or having someone else see what you see, can give you an anchor.

wow i’m sure that won’t come back later!

also, far be it from me to talk about this statement without mentioning gerry keay. because it means something that he’s the one to give andrea the tools she needs to pull herself out of the lonely. gerry is someone completely lacking in human connection, who is literally haunted by the ghost of his mother and later is seen as a ghost himself. gerry doesn’t have friends; he tells jon “i always wanted my friends to call me gerry,” but in a tone that makes it clear he didn’t have anyone who could’ve. and of course he didn’t. a life so entwined with the entities and cut so short, a life so ruled by the cruelty of others that he certainly did not want to rope anyone else into. 

though gerry’s never directly stated to be affected by the lonely, he’s certainly lowercase-L lonely at the very least, and he’s certainly got enough experience with ghosts to understand the lonely. 

gerry is the trope of the helpful spirit. he’s the ghost who’ll give you directions on a deserted road and disappear when you turn around. he gives jon the information he needs to understand the entities, he gives andrea the information she needs to not become a ghost.

MAG057: PERSONAL SPACE

alright so this one is, admittedly, more cosmic horror than anything else, but if y’all’ve seen any of my comics you probably know i’m very passionate about space ghosts & haunted spaceships. and as such, i’m extremely interested in how the daedalus mission echoes ghost stories.

carter chilcott’s story pretty directly acts as a ghost story — unable to communicate with the others on the ship even when he tries, unable to interact with the world to the point of looking out the window at one point to find the world entirely missing. this is all stuff i’ve said already about the other statements, so i’m glossing past it, because what interests me more is the daedalus as malicious architecture.

because the daedalus was created specifically for this union between vast, lonely, and dark (all of which i think have significant ghostly tie-ins). everything about how the ship itself and the mission came to be is a mystery, even to those involved — manuela says “i don’t know how he convinced the lukases and fairchilds to help finance the project,” “i don’t know if they were working on rituals of their own,” “exactly how the launch was arranged, i couldn’t tell you.” 

a piece of the traditional haunted house is a sort of timelessness, and mystery inherent in its building. hill house in shirley jackson’s haunting of hill house “seemed somehow to have formed itself, flying together into its own powerful pattern under the hands of its builders... it was a house without kindness, never meant to be lived in, not a place fit for people or for love or for hope.” the oldest house in the game control is malicious architecture at its finest, and it’s called the oldest house. it predates people. it exists as a giant piece of brutalist architecture smack dab in the middle of new york, but no one knows why or how it came to be. as a real-world example: the winchester mystery house is wrapped up in mythos about its creation. was sarah winchester just a lonely old woman with a hobby for architectural design, or did she create endlessly spiraling staircases and doorways with a steep drop into the yard to keep ghosts away? who knows! we sure do like to speculate, though.

yes, i’ve talked about this in tma metas before. highly recommend jacob geller’s control, anatomy, and the legacy of the haunted house for more of this content.

even manuela dominguez, the only person on the daedalus mission who actually knew what she was doing and wasn’t just there to be a victim of entities they did not understand, does not know how the mission came to be. 

and the entire purpose of this spacecraft is to be malicious to its inhabitants! the very architecture is meant to make the people within into perfect snacks for their respective entities! the station is cramped (”so cramped that i could only fully stretch out in the section used to exercise,” says jan kilbride), but when the vast takes hold it’s suddenly endless — “a hollow pretense of a shell that did nothing to separate me from the void.” (cue me shouting about how much trust we put in the places we live, and whether or not that trust is warranted, how easily it can be turned against us!)

a few other bits of this statement that really echo ghost stories: “twice i was woken up by the sound of the door opening, only to find it as tight as it had ever been. throughout the daytime i would occasionally hear footsteps, which shouldn’t even have been possible in zero gravity.” and then the empty, ghostly spacesuit that floats past chilcott’s window — there are so many stories about disembodied wedding dresses or mourningwear walking the halls silently, so why not a spacesuit?

i started this section saying this statement was more cosmic horror than ghost story but i’m finishing it by saying this is actually one of the clearest representations of haunted architecture in the whole podcast. (other examples off the top of my head include upon the stair & a cosy cabin, the latter of which i actually already wrote a meta about.)

MAG092: NOTHING BESIDE REMAINS

the moment i started thinking about the lonely-ghosts connection i remembered this episode, because it’s so clear. complete disconnect, existing entirely alone in a shadow of the world you once knew, unable to interact with the living in any way.

very small bit but. “as the cab pulled away, it seemed to have no driver that i could discern” vs the theme of ghost carriages in older ghost stories. i am looking directly at it.

barnabas bennett can “almost think i hear the mocking joy of my friends, but there is nobody here.” he can see evidence that life continues around him, unseen — “i know that what is done by those i cannot see might be felt here — i have found glasses broken and pages torn that were not so the night before.” just as a ghost is unseen to the living, the reverse is true: bennett can see others having an impact on the world in small ways, and his letter is found by jonah, but he can’t really affect the world in any real way.

MAG108: MONOLOGUE

this one is so exciting to me because theater ghosts are a huge trope in ghost stories! theater people are some of the most superstitious people you’ll ever meet! especially regarding ghosts having an impact on their shows — there’s the superstition regarding The Scottish Play™, the tradition of leaving a ghost light on onstage to appease the spirits. there’s that time all the kids in my production of brigadoon when i was in middle school circled around the makeup mirrors to play bloody mary and got thoroughly chewed out by the adults in the cast. theater’s full’a ghosts!

(i think it’s something about the intense amounts of history behind it — and how, in playing a part that a thousand people have played before, you’re echoing their exact words, becoming a repetition of those long gone. and on a stage, blinding lights in your face washing out any view of the audience — you could, technically, leave the stage and interact with the people down there, but it seems pretty entirely impossible when you’re up there. you’re being perceived but can’t see in return. you’re essentially a ghost putting on a show for the living on a loop.)

the statement-giver for this one, adonis biros, echoes a lot of those sentiments, actually. “your words heard by no one — and in that no one, an entire universe.” “have you ever had stage lights in your eyes? ...you can look out into the audience and see nothing at all. just you.”

i said before that “when ghost stories are told from a distance, they’re about the horror of it — disembodied howling, faces in the window that keep you up at night.” the disconnect between the anonymous audience and the singular actor onstage makes the distance here extreme — so this is the sort of ghost story that’s unquestionably a horror story, focusing on the most chilling aspects of ghosts. their inhumanity, their anonymity. the theater masks adonis sees in the audience are “empty. it was a hollow shape of a man that had no life, no presence to it.” even adonis himself says he “had no doubt that what i had seen was some sort of specter or omen.”

he sees a “masked mockery of a human figure” in a window while walking at night. ghosts looking through windows is enough of a trope that once, when i went on a ghost tour in williamsburg, at least half the stories were about people seeing ghostly faces in windows, and i completely freaked out when i saw someone moving around in one of the houses before realizing, oh, some of them are still actually occupied.

this one’s undoubtably a collaboration between stranger and lonely, but i think that intersection’s one of the best for ghost stories — something not-quite-human-anymore, if it ever was, haunting you.

MAG150: CUL-DE-SAC

a lot of the bare bones of this statement are things i’ve already covered, so i’m not gonna go too in-depth on it. herman gorgoli’s statement is about disconnect (from alberto, and then from the rest of humanity), about isolation, about houses-gone-wrong (his and alberto’s house in cheadle, which he views by the end as a place imprisoning him, and the titular cul-de-sac).

we’ve seen the malicious architecture trope in the form of the daedalus already, but this time it’s on earth. it’s something that should, by all rights, be familiar. the houses in the suburbs are all the same, but it’s at least a sameness you know. but they’re all bereft of any irregularities, ghostly echoes of what a house should be.”there were no lights on in any of the houses.” he even finds a dead body in one of the houses — but the woman who’s body he finds is not the one haunting them.

it’s herman haunting the neighborhood, until his love for alberto brings him out. herman making his way through houses he cannot interact with in any meaningful way, whos details he cannot interpret. “how many corpses lay waiting behind the placid facade of this endless false suburbia?” he wonders, and i have to imagine he’s also wondering if he’s already joined their ranks, if he’s the haunting in a haunted house.

and connection brings him back and the houses are no longer empty, no longer waiting for a ghost to take resident in their hallways.

MAG159: THE LAST   (& martin’s journey in season four, generally)

we’ve all analyzed 159 within an inch of its life but i’m here to do it again, with the context of martin’s whole journey into the lonely. because the lonely turns people into ghosts. the lonely takes away humanity and life and leaves a hollow echo in its wake.

literally the powers lonely avatars have involve turning invisible. what else is often associated with invisibility? ghosts. checkmate. i’m running out of steam a bit but i swear these are good points i’m making. trust me.

what makes ghost stories so good is that even if the narrator is not a ghost themselves, just experiencing a ghost puts them at a fundamental disconnect from society. it’s something disbelieved by so many people. (there’s parallels to be made with mental illness here, but i... don’t really feel like making them right now. they’re definitely there, as is the very potent lonely-depression connection that made ep170 hit so hard for so many of us.) in hill house, the more eleanor is wrapped up in the goings-on of the house, the less she’s able to relate to the other people there. the closer martin becomes to the lonely, the less he’s able to talk to the people around him — he’s told not to talk to them by lukas, but he’s also just... unable to relate. their experiences are different than his, at this point.

nicole @brunetteauthorette99​ said something really good in our conversation about this, about ghosts “being stuck in... spaces that have moved on without them, reenacting their defining moments in life over and over again without the possibility of change.”

martin is stuck in the institute. he probably has an apartment, but we don’t see it, and i can’t imagine he as he is by season four has put much effort into decorating it or making it feel like a home. every place is impersonal — somewhere he exists without really living.

and the institute moves on without him. jon goes into the coffin and martin doesn’t know until he’s already in there. and martin can impact his environment only in small ways — leaving tape recorders on the coffin in an attempt to anchor jon home, leaving the tape of jon’s victim for melanie, basira, and daisy to find. he will not or cannot speak to or touch other living beings, just move objects around in a desperate attempt to get a message across, a ouija board of tapes and post-it notes. his moment of rejecting the lonely’s plans in 158 is dropping the knife peter has given him — another expression more through his interactions with his environment than any human connection.

martin says the lonely always had him, and with how much his story revolves around people who may as well be ghosts, that’s true. his father disappeared and left only the image martin had of him in his mind, only the echo he himself provided in the mirror, the ghost of someone who hurt him overlaid on his own reflection. his mother was only present so far as she could be malicious, disapproving; a vengeful ghost, taking out the revenging instinct she had for martin’s father on martin. and then everyone else martin cares about dies — sasha’s gone and not!sasha acts as her malicious echo for a while; tim dies; jon dies. and yeah, he comes back — but he’s different. a ghost of sorts. martin’s already pretty ghostly by then, too.

so martin is, essentially, a ghost throughout season four, and probably beforehand, as well. jon literally! asks martin! if he is a ghost! in season one! which brings us to 159: “are you real?” martin asks the first living person he’s really talked to in who-knows-how-long. because martin doesn’t feel real, so how could anyone else be? “nothing hurts here” may be a contradiction of the literal experience of ghosts we see in tma (gerry saying “it hurts, being like this”), but is a very real perception of ghosts in ghost mythology as beings beyond pain, beyond the suffering of being alive. sometimes they exist to cause others that suffering they can no longer feel, but a lot of the time, they’re just melancholy, having forgotten what it’s like to be a person or hanging on just enough to yearn to return to that feeling of life.

“i’m the reason he... i did this to him as much as you,” jon says. in ghost terms: martin died for him. of course his connection to jon, then, would be the only thing able to bring him back.

mag159 is an orpheus/eurydice story — people have made posts about that before, i’m sure, and i have too, how jon and martin invert the orpheus archetype by being saved rather than damned by the act of sight. and it feels obvious to state it, but for clarity: eurydice dies. orpheus, alive, tries to save eurydice from the underworld, where she is a spirit, a ghost, an echo of herself.

MAG170: RECOLLECTION   —   (SPOILER WARNING!)

this episode is the reason i’m making this post, but i may as well copy-and-paste the entire transcript for this section, because there is truly not a single part of it that doesn’t resonate as a ghost story. 

the lonely house as a malicious location. the chairs are all uncomfortable, the house is large enough that just by wandering it (as a ghost might) martin grows tired enough to sit in them regardless. the decorations are wrong — all the rooms are the same and martin doesn’t like it, said he doesn’t know “why i’d decorate my house like this.”

it isn’t a small house. there’s a reason a lot of ghost stories take place in twisting mansions where you can never quite find your way back to where you started. ghost stories thrive on that isolation, that loneliness — if you see a ghost while you’re alone, are you sure you’ll be believed? doesn’t that just isolate you further? architecture can twist around those within it until they’re trapped, doomed to haunt it themselves. “it's such a - such a big house, my house, there must be other people!” martin says. 

but the only others in the house are ghosts like martin. 

“hundreds, thousands of lost souls, wandering the halls. hollow memories, with eyes full of tears. i’ve seen them. they’re all trying to remember.” 

“i found someone else, wandering around. they were all thin and gray. faded. like they’d been here for ages.”

the ghosts cannot remember their names, why they are there, whether or not it is their house they exist in. they’ve become near-inseparable from the fog around them and the architecture that holds them hostage.

and the house itself, it takes all of that, and its quirks — the size, the chairs, the decorations, all of which martin openly does not like — are all made from the people haunting it. the house is wrong because the people within it can no longer change it. martin’s comment on the decorations sticks with me because it’s such a simple example of this: presumably, he could affect the house in some way in the past, but he no longer can, and he’s stuck with the results of his past mistakes, echoing over and over from room to room. the impacts remain even when the people have faded so far as to be practically nonexistent.

and once again: love is what makes him remember, over and over. he remembers jon, and then the lonely steals that memory — but the remembering is what’s important, because the act of loving anchors martin, and it helps him remember who he is, repeating his name over and over.

ghosts lack identity. whether it’s because they’ve been forgotten by all who knew them in life, whether it’s because it’s too painful to hold onto that when they can no longer do anything with it — we assign names to ghost stories, connect them to the living, but there’s always a disconnect there.

and that’s what helps jon find him, helps martin keep himself from fading out again. and even jon says “you were faint” upon finding martin. martin was a ghost haunting that house.

but not anymore.

the lonely is a ghost story. the lonely is about people who’ve become unmoored from human connection and their own identities, who haunt places, or who’ve been lured into places that are hauntings in and of themselves and have no choice but to take up residence as ghosts within those walls.

and ghost stories, often, are love stories. love keeps us tethered to life, and love is what saves people from the lonely, over and over again.

#the magnus archives #tma meta #martin blackwood #the lonely #mag170 #kaylee.txt #kaylee.meta #dfgkjngfd HELLO i didn't mean for this to get quite so long but ty if anyone actually reads it!!!! #this is longer than most fics i write. whoops.

[veryvincible]

Hey! 👋🏼 I was looking at Tonys panel with Carol and his AA panels. It got me thinking how can a person like Tony .. who is an atheist, a believer of science and a confident engineer rely on AA which has a religious foundation (the 12 steps) and place so power on God. I know secular AA have different takes on it and encourage a personal definition of God as any higher power the person may choose. But doesn’t that defeat Tonys belief? Because I don’t think he believes in a higher power regardless if it’s a deity or not.

This is a wonderful question. There’s a lot of nuance to the answer, in my opinion, because I think there are some things called into question here that Tony (very realistically) treats with a lot of complexity.

Firstly, Tony’s atheism is kind of... I don’t want to say it’s up in the air, because at this point, I think it’s kind of made its place in canon and fanon both. But, most likely as a result of the times in which he was created, he has been shown in canon (at least in the early stages of his life) to follow some sort of organized religion. This is from Iron Man Vol. 1 #164, and it’s... not strong evidence for him being a spiritual man, as most people who call themselves “not that religious” tend to be religious by way of traditions, but. You know. It is what it is.

Of course, we could dismiss this as yet another thing that early canon imposed on a character who wouldn’t be like that at this point in time, but I think it brings up interesting beats in the way Tony’s character has progressed over the years.

Considering him as someone who may have been raised as traditionally religious makes sense in the context of defining events, as well, given that we watch him pray the Lord’s prayer in #14 of Iron Man Vol. 4, one of his Civil War tie-ins.

Given the proximity to the alcohol (and the point he’s at in the timeline, here), one could also easily assume that even if he had no religious background, the very presence of the Lord’s prayer in AA meetings could have formed a connection in his head between this “worship” and sobriety-- at the very least, enough of one that the prayer strengthens the effectiveness of his willpower. It seems the little push he needs to pour a drink down the drain is borderline Pavlovian.

There’s actually a lot of religious imagery in Tony comics in general. He’s a man with a suit facing conundrums of cosmic proportions. It’s difficult for him to keep rationale exclusively within the range of earthly probabilities.

Point is, his atheism doesn’t come from his disbelief in a higher power. It’s quite the contrary, actually. His atheism comes from a belief that there’s no single entity that could claim the title of God, that any being willing to try has, just by being, already forfeited the title.

Which is a fair assessment to make, given that he’s fought many people claiming to be Gods, and they’ve all bled. He’s also watched people worship Gods that turned out to not... really be Gods, whether they were otherworldly beings, his buddy Thor, or, uh, himself. The idea of him, at least. In space.

Because of course that happened.

But Tony actually does have a higher power to give himself up to in these meetings. In Civil War II #1, he very explicitly states it:

“I respect the future. I believe in the future. I worship at its feet.”

“The Future” to him is something he can affect, certainly, but he’s aware of just how massive it is, just how massive all of time is compared to the few decades he’ll spend on earth. This is his higher power, his cosmic deity of choice.

It can’t bleed. It can’t falter. It’s inevitable.

And this mindset is... pretty in line with everything else he’s done. He’s referred to himself as a “necessary monster.” He’s implied many times over that he thinks he’s rotten and potentially dangerous, but he’s also intelligent and capable and he wants to do the right thing, even if he doesn’t always know what that is. 

If you’ve ever been in a religious environment, you’ll probably recognize his mindset going into any problem: there’s always a solution, always information he’s missing, always a “right choice” he’s looking for with a domino effect that’ll be as favorable as possible for future generations. He trusts in the future the way people trust in God, with an awareness that he’ll never have all the pieces to make sense of everything, but he can have enough information to act. And he must act, or else his worth, his right to be alive, even, is at stake.

So, needless to say, he’s not praying to a mainstream God. But religious imagery isn’t and has never been off-putting to him, and though he certainly could seek out unreligious (is that a word?) alternatives to AA, I find it hard to believe that he would, given just how influential his higher power of choice is as it guides him through life. He puts everything at stake for it, going so far as to make choices that will destroy not only himself, but also his relationships with his loved ones if it means he’s doing what he perceives to be the right thing.

Secondly, even if he were a man who had no belief in any form of higher power, not even a stand-in for it, AA still might not be something he’d discard in favor of an alternative.

Religion serves as a guide. Most often, it has “do”s and “do not”s, certain beliefs it supports, and a kind of... basic explanation of what human life is and how it should be treated. One of the more common threads among most religions that I’m aware of (I am not an expert in religious studies; please don’t @ me) is the idea that human life is generally sacred, and as such, people should treat each other with respect. Yes, some texts can contradict this, but the general rule is “be nice to each other!” when you really look at the basics of what people are trying to teach. At its core, religion is linked to what we as humans already tend to for the sake of survival: compassion.

As such, though we might not always identify with religion as a concept, it’s not difficult to identify with some religious morals and teachings. Some people take to certain teachings better than others-- it’s super case-by-case-- but if you’re stuck in a religious environment listening to some preaching or anything, there’s probably going to be something you can relate to, and some way you can morph and adopt the message. This isn’t, like, all-encompassing, by the way. Of course there are some things that atheists and religious folk will never be able to relate to within each other, but.

You get what I mean.

I’m an atheist myself. I spent a chunk of my schooling at a religious institution. At best, there were messages that affected me deeply (as they were hard-hitting even when I stripped them of the God-worshipping aspects). At worst, I had to grit my teeth through some assignments, though I felt mostly indifferent (if slightly resentful at times, more out of frustration with the closed-mindedness of the administration than with the concept of religion itself). My experience isn’t universal, of course-- some people in my shoes were more frustrated and angry than I was, and I can see why. But my point is, being an atheist in and of itself (even one as strict as Tony) doesn’t render religious imagery useless.

For example, if you happen to pass by a pastor preaching about struggles with guilt, you might not identify with the sentiment of “Give your worries to God and know He’ll take care of you.” However, you could identify with the sentiment of, “Those little things, those side effects of decisions you’ve made? They’re here. Those decisions have been made. You’re allowed to swallow past the reality of what it is that’s passed and move on. You’re allowed to let go of it, so long as you’re better today than you were yesterday.”

It’s especially easy to do this if you’re listening to or being exposed to content from a religion you’re already familiar with; in Tony’s case, if we assume he was a Christian at one point or was raised with Christian ideals (not unbelievable in the slightest, given his circumstances and upbringing), then he wouldn’t have to do a lot of heavy lifting in order to get to “core messages” of certain Christian teachings that he could still identify with. Couple that with the higher power mentioned before, and... it’s not hard to see what might be appealing to him about AA, and it’s not hard to see why it was so effective at sticking in his mind all the way through his darkest periods in life.

Now comes the less healthy part.

There’s also an aspect of self-flagellation to it that I feel Tony might identify with on a deeper level. We’ve seen him hate himself openly, and we know how he regards himself. Even if he managed to find himself in a courthouse-like environment where the religious undertones were more about judgment than recovery, I don’t know that that would necessarily... push him away? He’s already told himself there’s something rotting and evil at his core many times over. He’s already committed himself to a lifestyle of atonement and progress, punishing himself when he fails to accomplish things no human reasonably could and barely praising himself when he doesn’t fail. Do I think these kinds of meetings would be totally sustainable for him, given that he clearly needs to feel pride or relief on some level for conquering his demons? No, not really, but. I don’t think he’d abandon them straight away.

Besides, every healing environment he’s been shown in has been more on the welcoming, open side, even if we only get to see a bare bones interpretation of AA (with deeper exploration happening more with Tony’s response to it, or his and Carol’s responses to each other) in canon. He’s in a good place with it, and it’s very nice to see.

Tl;dr: Again, great question. At the end of the day, I think the combination of self-loathing, his desire for progress, and his conceptualization of “the future” as his higher power makes AA a good fit for him despite his lack of a belief in "God” as an entity.

#cassks #religion #alcohol tw #the day has come where my quasi-religious background has become useful #if there are parts of this that are illegible... that is my bad #i have. a killer headache right now #and i hurt all over #but thank you for the ask it was very nice

[carinyms]

We're three days from the Loki finale and I’m back to spout more meta and theories about episodes 5 & 6! It’s a long one (again.)

I really enjoyed episode five. People have complained that they felt it didn't do much to move the show forward, but one of the things I've loved most about this show is the time it takes to sit with the characters and learn about their backstory, their feelings. (I'm always a little bugged when critics say that an episode hasn't done enough to move the plot forward, because without adequate character development, why should I care about the plot?) I thought the pacing of it was really well balanced.

….and I have never been so nervous for a finale in my entire life. There’s a lot of reasons.

The first is just the fact that I’ve been waiting for this show for a whole year, and the anticipation and excitement of it literally helped get me through the pandemic--so when those final end credits roll I’m going to be a whole mess no matter what happens. (I really hope the rumors floating around about season two are accurate) I also just feel like it’s somewhat inevitable that this is our final farewell to Tom’s Loki, and like—I’ll never be ready, but especially right now, amidst all the rampant controversy around this show, I’m just not ready to deal with that. I have a *small* modicum of hope that this won't be the case, but it feels unlikely. Anyway, guess I’ll die.

I really want this show to stick the landing, so to say. I loved the last episode, but a lot of the response has been that it felt like a lull in the plot. I want this show to end in a satisfying bang so it can get the credit it deserves.

Also I’m a whole hypocrite eating my words from last week—I’m fully on-board with Loki/Sylvie now (not that I was ever really against it)--I’m not sure why I’m surprised. They’re so adorable and wholesome, and I’m in love with seeing Loki in love. It’s so precious. (Just as a PSA, if you’re not into them that’s chill, and you’re allowed to dislike a ship without trying to justify your opinion by labeling shippers as morally problematic. Selfcest isn’t a real thing, therefore there isn’t a moral high ground to stand on here. Okay? Okay.) Wherever it ultimately leads, their relationship is still a really sweet exploration of them both growing and learning how to love themselves and trust others. Also, them cuddling under a tablecloth is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen with my two eyes.

MY THEORIES:

I love Sylvie so much, SO MUCH — and she is 100% going to stab Loki in the back by the end of the next episode. I don’t think the betrayal is going to stick, and by the end they’ll both be on the same page again, but the conversations on trust have been way too one-sided for my comfort. If nothing else she's going to seriously consider it. Here’s one way I can see that going. Spoiler alert: it hurts.

Sylvie betrays Loki at one point—and we see Loki’s growth and arc come full circle as, even after being betrayed by the person he hinged his entire development around, he still believes in doing the right thing, in saving her regardless. It ends in a heart-wrenching self-sacrifice of some kind, and his actions serve as the catalyst for her full development as well. We keep seeing different versions of Loki die for their ‘glorious purpose’, just like how Classic Loki shouts the phrase as he was consumed by Aloith (RIP King, I love you).

Loki has already called Sylvie his glorious purpose (or inferred it). There’s been backlash around him saying that, but the way I see it, it’s less “I’m obsessed with this girl she’s my purpose now” and more “I believe that she’s the best version of us and I’m going to make it my purpose to help her succeed and be what the rest of us aren’t”. That’s why seeing all the other variant Loki’s at their worst in the Loki clubhouse (? what do I call this lol) only fuels him more to find her. I think about what Mobius told him: “You exist to cause pain and suffering and death, all so others can achieve the best versions of themselves”. I don’t think Loki truly believes he can be the best version of Loki — I think he saw Sylvie and thought, "it's her". He’s decided he’s going to help her achieve the best version of herself, but he'll do it giving her love and trust and devotion, rather than through betrayal, pain and suffering. He’s re-writing his pre-determined role, in his own small way. I’m so proud of him.

So who’s behind it all and what’s truly going on here? (This isn’t really one theory, more like a string of possibilities and I don’t really know how they’d fit together.)

I still think it’s another version of Loki. And if it is, I can’t help but appreciate the connections between his position dictating the end of time in the show in relation to Loki’s role in the Norse myths, where he’s the catalyst for the destruction of all things. It feels relevant, considering the whole idea that ‘the end of time hasn’t been written yet’ has come up twice now. That would be a fascinating tie-in to the mythology. (Also—Alioth looks like a giant dog. And Fenrir’s role in Ragnarok was devouring the world—I realize this is a reach but am I the only person seeing this connection?) The thing I really can’t predict is the motivation. What would cause a Loki to want to prevent Loki’s from changing? Was there something that happened in the sacred timeline this Loki is trying to preserve? (I also like the idea of us maybe seeing another version of Sylvie behind it all, but I’m just going to leave that rabbit hole alone. )

But here’s the theory I can’t stop thinking about. There’s a theory floating around tik tok (by user twelvepercentcredit) saying the ‘castle’ we see beyond Alioth looks like a place called the House of Ideas, something that appeared in a (discontinued?) Loki comic. Here’s the wiki page on it. Just looking at the imagery of this compared to the location we’re seeing in the trailers, it’s too similar to be a coincidence. The huge bookshelves, the towering ceilings.

Here’s a description from the wiki:

“The House of Ideas is also home to a library which archives the exploits of every hero who has ever existed in the form of books, written unconsciously by the collective minds of their believers. This collection is curated by Now and Then, two of the children of Eternity. Now and Then routinely seek out heroes to bring into the House of Ideas to bargain with them and give their collections more pages, therefore more time for adventures and exploits. “

And later on the page on how Loki ties in:

“Heeding the desire in Loki's heart to do more with his life, Now and Then approached Loki and brought him to the House of Ideas,[5] where they struck up with him the deal to give more pages to his collection of exploits, rewriting the Books of Loki with a hero's stories in exchange for an eventual hero's death.”

Are they gonna play with the exact happenings of this? I don't know, but it sounds pretty cool!

It would be gutsy to go this route with the show given how meta it is, but I love the idea of it. Would they put characters that embody the abstract ideas of “Eternity” “Now & Then” into the show in the last episode? I’m not sure. Something I could see as a possibility though is an alternate version of Loki having overthrown whoever was previously guarding the timeline, and Loki and Sylvie will have to take them down in turn, thus ‘releasing’ the multiverse to its default, chaotic state.

What if our Loki’s ultimate destiny, ultimate Glorious Purpose, is to release the timelines--restoring all the variants back to their original timelines--and remain in this place for eternity, guarding the timeline and ensuring the multiverse is allowed to exist in its natural state? It seems a pretty fitting role for the God of Chaos. It would also explain why whoever’s behind the TVA would be so desperate to eliminate all variant Loki, if that was his ultimate destiny.

It would be an effective way to remove Hiddleston’s Loki from the movie-verse without killing him, AND place both Sylvie and any other Loki variants back in the the main timeline for use in future films—which we know has to happen somehow, because Young Avengers is definitely happening, and Kid Loki has got to get out of the void somehow.

And yea, this outcome would hurt like a bitch. Because even though that would truly be a lovely glorious purpose for our Loki, he’d be alone. And the whole point of this show is that he doesn’t have to be alone! It would be a very poetic sacrifice for him to take on the burden of watching over the timelines alone for all eternity so that his other variants could be the best versions of themselves, but I really just want him to be happy. I will be crying my eyes out if this happens. I’ll be proud but I won’t be okay.

And this all is probably speculative nonsense and could go off in an entirely different direction. Who knows. All in all, I just really want to see Loki fully believe in himself and his ability, to truly absorb what he said about being stronger than he realizes, and to take control of his destiny.

WHAT I WANT (NEED) FROM EPISODE 6:

Let Hunter B-15 and Mobius team up to burn the place to the ground. She was nerfed in the time-keeper fight, I want to see B-15 kick some ass.

I kind of want Ravonna to escape and be a character that carries over into the films for her tie-ins with Kang? I want to see more of her.

Give Loki a new badass costume. I’m begging. If he’s gonna go down, he deserves to go down in something other than khakis.

And then I want to see him and Sylvie fighting side by side in matching outfits.

I want a Mobius-level hug between them. Or a kiss. Or both. But I want the hug more. And you know what? I want her to initiate the hug or kiss or whatever it is because I want Loki to experience receiving love and affection from others as much as giving it. He deserves it ok??

I expect Mobius on a jet ski in the post credits and if I don’t get it I riot

@marvel these are my demands.

As always, if you've made it this far I'd love to hear your thoughts!

#these just keep getting longer and longer #next week you can expect a full novel #loki #loki show #loki series #loki meta #loki show meta #loki series meta #loki theories #loki show theories #loki show positive #loki spoilers #loki series spoilers

[pudding-head-kenma]

Drink up, Sweetheart [ Kuroo x Reader ]

            You’re overly aware of your footsteps.

            Every little sound is completely deafening to you.

            As you walk through the forest, you can hear every time you step on a leaf – you can hear the way it crunches and shatters. You can hear every time you step into a puddle, small as it may be – you’re aware of the gentle splash behind you, and of the way the water hits the foliage around. You can hear the muffled sound of stepping into dry dirt, and the sounds become so much more overwhelming when you start hearing the quiet echo of your shoes hitting the stone steps.

            Your heart is faster than you, speeding and thumping against your chest in such a violent manner you’re worried it might just leap out of your mouth. If not for the loud steps, you might have even been able to hear it desperately knocking, desperately asking you to turn around.

            Yet every time you come back.

            Why are you here again?

            Reaching the end of the steps, you stop right in front of the door. It’s silent for a few seconds, a nice contrast to the previous echoing, but that peace is soon replaced by the loud wind you’re suddenly aware of. All these sounds make you tense, and if you stopped to think about it for a single second more you would realise it’s because you’re anxious about being back.

            But when it comes to Kuroo, you never have a choice.

            You hesitate. You’re familiar with the door in front of you, your body could run on auto pilot at this point. You know the feeling of lifting the door metal knocker, as familiar as you are with the sound of it hitting the door, alerting the person inside to your presence. And suddenly, the memory of that sound seems far too real. You find yourself having done just that, fingers grasping the metal roughly as your hand struggles to stop shaking.

            It takes him exactly fifteen seconds to open the door, and it feels like you waited a whole hour. At the same time, it feels like you didn’t wait at all, as if he had already been there waiting for you. The contradictory feelings currently battling inside of you are ironic, considering whom you’re visiting, but that thought is quickly pushed aside as the door swings open ever so slowly, revealing a knowing smirk.

            You tense up again, eyes focusing on the mischievous, almost cocky expression in front of you. Yet again, you’re struggling to pick a side – does it annoy you, knowing he’s aware of the effect he has on you and knew you’d come back? Does it make your heart speed up to see such a beautiful man focusing his entire attention you? Is it anxiety, or is it something else? Is it good, or is it bad?

            Your eyes trail down his body, and you almost want to laugh at the ridiculous situation in front of you. As expected, he’s dressed in nothing more than a robe, arms crossed over his chest as he leans a shoulder against the doorframe. If you were to look up at his expression, no doubt his smirk would have widened, and you’re sure his eyebrow rose in a teasing manner. He’s waiting for you to speak.

            But your thoughts wander, thinking about all the other men and women he often receives at his house, with the same intentions as you. You think about the last time one could have been with him, and suddenly the loosely tied robe sickens you. Could it mean someone else was just here? Your expression must have changed, perhaps your eyebrows are furrowed and you’re glaring at the ground, maybe your whole body tensed up without you noticing, but whatever it was has him break his usual silence and take the initiative to initiate the dialogue.

            “I can hear you thinking, Sweetheart.”

            His voice is rough, yet sweet at the same time. It reminds you of the burn of wine down your throat, accompanied by a fruity flavour left on your lips. His whole existence is contradictory. But that doesn’t matter to you, if the way you looked up excitedly was any indication. You suppose you should be confused, jealous, even angry. But it’s impossible. After all, he is not yours to claim in such a selfish manner. Or... Well, that doesn’t sound like something you’d normally say.

            Ah.

            It’s starting already.

            He sees your frown waver ever so slightly, and the corner of your lips curl up into a gentle smile. He smiles, too, taking a step closer and wrapping his long fingers delicately around your wrist. He moves swiftly, reminding you of the feeling of being pulled along by a rushing river, and you find yourself pressed against his chest with the door closing soundlessly behind the two of you. Either that, or you’ve stopped paying attention to anything that isn’t him.

            Your body moves on its own, desperately clinging to the man in front of you. The thought makes you chuckle – to call him a man should be a sin. Your arms wrap around him, bringing him in closer. He allows himself to be manoeuvred around,  tilts his neck to the side obediently as he watches you move to rest your head there, inhaling and relaxing further into his embrace.

            He’s smirking again, you’re sure of it.

            “I thought yesterday was the last time.”

            “Mmm.” You mutter out quietly in response, barely paying attention to anything he’s saying anymore. You just crave the feeling he gives you, the relaxing buzz you get from being near him. Your whole body feels useless, and you’re falling. You aren’t sure how you can be falling from how tightly you were holding onto him, but you refuse to open your eyes, the rush of wind on your cheeks making you chuckle.

            He’s gentle with you, he always is. You can faintly process that the rush of wind is him lying you down on the couch, making sure you won’t fall to the floor from the overwhelming feeling that radiates from him. When you’re like this, he looks at you differently. He doesn’t offer you any smirks, instead there’s a gentle smile on his lips as he brushes his fingers against your cheek and watches you lean in and chase after the soft touches.

            You’re breathing heavily when he walks away. It leaves you in a panicked state, as if you’re suddenly unaware of your surroundings. You try to get up, but your body is far too weak now. You’d like to scream out for him and ask where he is, but your throat is dry. Your head is pounding violently, and you feel as if you’ve woken up from the worst hangover of your entire life.

            Until he returns with a glass of water.

            It’s almost comical, to have the God of Wine offer you a plain cup of water, but you can’t exactly say you’re surprised. He has lived among humans for a really long time, surely he knows by now how to act against the effect he has on others. As much as he knows how to take advantage of it and allow others to enjoy it, he’s still aware of how fragile humans can be. The worry in his eyes gives that fact away far more easily than anyone would have expected.

            “Haven’t I taught you before, Sweetheart? You can’t rush like this.” He scolds, holding your body up as he forces you to gulp down the water. There’s no bitterness to his voice, yet the atmosphere feels heavy. You know, of course. You know why he’s telling you that, and you can remember the numerous explanations he has given you on the matter, but you can’t help yourself.

            You can never help yourself when it’s Kuroo.

            It’s like a wave of emotions washes through you as soon as your eyes meet – the fear and excitement merge together, the jealousy and want become one and the same, the patience disappears and gives its place to rushing. You lose part of yourself whenever you’re together, but you gain a part of him at the same time.

            “Maybe you should teach me again.” You manage to murmur once your throat loosens up, and once again you watch as he shifts from a tender expression to a suggestive one. He knows your strategy, but never comments on it. It’s always the same game with the two of you. In reality, you have no real power over him, yet you always act as if you’re in control.

            What’s even better is that he lets you do just that.

            “My, my. When did you become so stubborn?” He’s teasing again, the change in tone is evident, and suddenly the strong smell of fruity wine comes back and hits you like a truck, no doubt stronger than it had been before. Your body moves on its own once more, reaching for the intoxicating feeling, but Kuroo takes a step back.

            And if you whine, neither of you say anything about it.

            “Now, Sweetheart...” He drags out that nickname in the most annoying manner to you – it bugs you that he will rarely use your name. You can’t help yourself from over thinking such a small detail, but there’s a sudden bitter flavour on your tongue. Perhaps the reason he avoids your name is because he’s afraid of confusing the parade of humans he brings home every day.

            You find yourself slapping his hand in order to get him away from you. Standing up abruptly from the couch makes the entire room spin, and it takes Kuroo a mere second to be by your side and wrap an arm around your waist to support you. And you feel ridiculous, because it takes you just as long to cling to him all over again.

            He’s chuckling.

            “Ah, don’t tell me this was your plan all along? You sure have gotten craftier over the months.” He’s murmuring into your ear, and the buzzing becomes increasingly louder, your heart is thumping furiously again from how close he is. Do you want him closer, or do you want to push him? The hands gripping his robe desperately seem to decide on their own.  “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” His words are certainly empty promises, yet somehow they feel like a sweet declaration of affections. You almost cry.

            Almost.

            He takes a step away yet again once you’re able to stand on your own, but unlike last time he doesn’t move away completely. His hand trails up your waist towards your neck, brushing over the skin ever so faintly you can barely feel his fingers at all. His nails run over your neck just enough to have a shiver run up your spine, and that seems to be enough for him to move his hand again, cupping your cheek. He’s glancing at you with nothing but care in his eyes, and you wonder how such an insane creature could hold such a loving, human expression.

            All the years with humans must have made him an excellent liar.

            “Slowly, this time. Drink slowly, my Sweetheart.”

            You want to refuse, but you’re far from that sane state of mind. Instead, you’re lingering on his words, ‘my sweetheart’ playing over and over again in your head, fuzzy images of him flashing so obscenely that you see yourself forced to open your eyes. That’s the third time today you’ve closed your eyes without noticing.

            He’s closer.

            Not close enough, but closer. You swallow, a huff leaves your lips and you take a step closer as well. One of his eyebrows rises in warning, no doubt telling you to go slower. You know already, you’ve been doing this for long enough to know. You’ve waited long enough, and you give him that hint by tilting your head away from his touch, instead reaching your hand out to him. He understands you – he always does, after all. You force yourself to swallow down the ‘he has had experience, after all’ at the tip of your tongue.

            His lips are pressing against the back of your hand, and you feel a shiver crawling down your spine. Your blood heats up, and you feel the wonderful fuzzy feeling returning. This time, however, it grows slower, like the feeling of going up a big curve on a rollercoaster, knowing the drop will be intense.

            He’s observing you intensely, and you’re not sure if he’s taking pleasure in your reactions or watching out to make sure you’re okay. How can you be sure when it comes to him? There are so many tales of Dionysus, so many different versions of the person he claimed, claims and will claim to be. Which of them did you fall for? The easy going guy, or the insane one? The overly sexual, or the gentle lover? The parties, wine and ecstasy, or the relaxing wine harvest?  If they are all the same person, did you fall for both sides?

            When you come back to it, he’s only a few inches away from you. The buzz is definitely more intense now, and you can almost feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head from the immense pleasure you feel. It’s so different from being drunk, but yet that’s the only think you can describe it as. His fingers grab your chin, and you follow obediently like a leaf caught in the wind as he brings you in closer. You can barely keep your eyes open to look at him, but he seems satisfied. Somehow, that makes you happy. Proud.

            “That’s right, look at me. Good, baby.”

            You scoff, and it’s not that his words are particularly funny, it’s just that you feel like shoving him away all over again. Baby this, sweetheart that, but never your name. Why can’t he just remember your name? Do you mean nothing to him?

            And you’re unaware that as much as you wonder about which one of Kuroo’s personalities and existences you fell for, he wonders the same for you. Does he like the caring, gentle and clingy person that visits him anxiously, or the jealous human that drips of anxiety and urgency? Does he enjoy the trust you give him, or the doubt you have that keeps the spark alive? And once more, if they are all the same person, did he fall for both sides?

            “Stop.” He pleads softly, brushing your lips together and pulling away just before you can kiss. That sends a rush of adrenaline through your body, and the anticipation of kissing him grows faster than you expect – it’s always the same, you never remember the feeling until you’re stuck in the middle of it again. “Don’t think about anyone else. Just me. Get drunk on me, Sweetheart.”

            And he leans in to kiss you.

            This time, it’s you that leans away from him.

            It’s almost worth it, the way his face contorts in confusion for the first time since you’ve known him, but on the other hand it left you feeling angry at yourself. You could have had the exact feeling you were after. But you’re selfish, and you may just never get it again.

            “My name...” You plead quietly, desperately clinging to him as your legs shake. “Say my name.”  

            “Y/N.”

            The lack of hesitation shocks you, and your eyes are widening comically as he reaches forward to kiss you, leaving you no room to move away this time. Unbeknown to you, his kisses tell a story. While you’re focusing on the energised feeling it gives you, on the sweet taste of alcohol dancing around on your tongue, Kuroo tries to express himself in ways he’s unable to with words.

            He lacks the right words to explain to you he has not been with anyone else since you’ve met, finds himself unable to explain the nicknames are for you specifically, and he gives up on explaining that he can’t say your name because it almost has the same effect on him that his presence has on you. He can’t tell if you’re drunk on him or on what he represents, but he knows for a fact he’s drunk on you. And that’s a problem.

            It’s night before you notice. You don’t remember getting into bed with him, but you feel oddly comforted in his embrace. For all his faults, for all his sleeping around and his constant display of sexuality, he never once touched you while you’re in this state. Not that you haven’t tried, but it seems it goes against his morals. You faintly remember him whispering that’s he’s worried about what it could do to you, to be so intimate when a kiss is enough to have you black out, but you shrug his words off as you know them to be all for show.

            Or, well, you think they’re all for show anyway. He knows them to be true. And it’s funny to him, that he’d say something like that to you and you’re still capable of thinking he sleeps with other people – after all, if he did, he’d know the effect he has on humans that are intimate with him, wouldn’t he?

            That, of course, never crosses your mind.

            You’re suddenly sober. It seems the effect has passed.

            As comfortable as you feel, as incredibly warm as his chest feels against your skin, as protected as you feel in his embrace you’re standing up abruptly before thinking about it too much. His eyes open, and he’s glancing at you curiously.

            At the end of your sessions together, he always has the same look on his face. It’s not teasing, and it’s not sated. There’s an underlying sadness you’re unable to detect, but one he knows is there. This is the worst part for him.

            “I have to go.”

            “You don’t have to go, Sweetheart. You just want to go.”

            You flinch. There it is again – he’s unable to call you by your name. It fuels your rage even further, the long night of drinking completely washing away the multiple times he had murmured your name lovingly throughout the night, the sweet kisses he had pressed to your cheeks while telling you how much he loves you, telling you how much it hurts him to see you go.

            You never remember, but he always does.

            His hand rises up slightly from the bed, almost as if he’s going to reach out to you. With a defeated chuckle, he brings it back down, knowing there’s no point in trying to argue with you. It’s a shame, really, he had hoped you could gaze at the stars like you did on the third night you were there.

            “I have to, this was a mistake.”

            He smiles. Yeah, you always tell him that.

            “I know.”

            There’s silence for a little while. Neither of you want to speak up, but you know what you have to do.

    ��       “This was the last time, Kuroo.”

            You put on your jacket as fast as humanly possible, and rush towards the front door to put on your shoes. You don’t spare him a second glance, but you take notice of how he doesn’t even leave his bedroom, surely still in bed and resting so that the next person can come over. Once you’re ready to go, you walk through the front door and slam it shut, now ignoring every little sound you were so aware of before.

            It was the last time. It was nice while it lasted.

            Kuroo stays in bed, his arm dropped over his eyes as he lies still. He can’t exactly tell if he’s crying or not, but he doesn’t move his arm in fear of finding out. Instead, he forces a smile back on his face, his whole body shaking as he laughs. It’s not funny, he’s not sure if it’s anxiety or fear, if it’s him being nervous or angry. He just laughs.

            One day, he might find he’s wrong, that he doesn’t know you, that he’s not as addicting as he thinks, and that you won’t come back.

            But today, however, he’s sure of it. So he allows himself to whisper when he knows you’re more than far away.

            “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*

taglist: @cleopatera​ ; @snazzieyama​ ; @kukusbabe​ ; @kunimi-bby​ ; @oyasenpai​ ; @kaminii​ ; @user-766​  

[ you can ask to be on my general taglist! ]

#kuroo x reader #kuroo imagine #haikyuu x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyū!! #hq #hq!! #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq angst #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo #tetsurou kuroo #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo tetsuro angst #kuroo x you #kuroo oneshot #kuroo scenario #kuroo tetsuro scenario

[writingandengineering]

Back to You

i know i haven’t posted in a hot minute, but here i am!! i was in a super soft mood so it resulted with some soft mando. this is super short but i kinda like it!! i hope you enjoy it!

word count: 429

There was always something intimate about helping the Mandalorian with an injury; well, you never liked when he returned with the quarry and injuries but, you take what you can get with Mando. You gently trace your hand along an abrasion on Mando’s side, watching him jump a little at your touch, skin erupting in shivers. 

“It’s not so bad this time, shouldn’t take so long.”

“Do what you need to.” Came the gruff reply from the injured man.

Bacta always had such a distinctive smell to you; it reminded you of before you met Mando, working as a clinic doctor. The first time you met Mando and more importantly, the child, Mando had run into your clinic demanding a doctor to attend to something. That was all he said that first time. He needed you to look at something. That something it turns out, was the child; the small creature was flushed with fever from the tips of its comically large ears to its tiny fingers; for you, it was a simple fix. A few more run-ins with Mando and the child and you were officially a part of the crew on the Razor Crest.

You sigh as you apply a bit more bacta to Mando’s abdomen, “I’m done, you should be good now.” You apply a final plaster to Mando’s side. “You know, it would be better for all of us if you were more careful. The kid needs you.” I need you. 

Mando pulls his shirt back down, turning his helmet to face you, “I’ll always come back to you. To the both of you.” He reaches a gloved hand to push some hair out of your face before gently brushing along your cheek.

You breathe heavier as you look into the T-shaped visor of Mando’s helmet, settling your face against his hand, relishing in the warmth that seemed to permeate through the glove. “You better, the kid needs his father.” You stand up from your seat, stepping close to the beskar clad man, raising one of your hands to match the one he has placed on your cheek to the side of his helmet. You think you hear a garbled sound from Mando’s helmet.

Mando moves quickly to wrap his other arm around your waist, pulling you close to his chest. You raise your head to look at him, then tilt your head in silent confusion. He slowly presses the front of his helmet against your forehead, you lean into it, closing your eyes. 

Yeah, you knew that Mando would always come back to you.

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin #star wars x reader #soft!mando

[soyouareandrewdobson]

The good, the bad and... SYAC: The Master Review 3

Not gonna lie, writing out this and the next part of my Master Review was more of a chore than the one before or even after (yes, certain later parts are almost wrapped up)

The reason is, that as of now the only thing I can really talk about is the quality of the average SYAC strip pre-Dobbear and quite frankly, most of them are just rather dull in one way or another.

See, here is the thing with Andrew Dobson in general: When you ignore his opinions outside of comics and assume that his works are not meant to be on a level equal to certain professional work, his stuff is rather harmless and to a certain extend enjoyable.

For example, I think Formera is in terms of pacing all over the place and Alex is “at best” on the same level as Garfield in terms of depth. Which would be okay if you look for something shallow to just distract yourself from boredom.

In fact, I find Formera, despite its flaws and blatant rip off of “wacky” anime aesthetics, rather admirable in a way.

But then you remember, that Dobson is a professionally trained comic artist and animator who aspired to be published at least in the same way as “Cleopatra in Space” or “Hilda”, while also throwing shade at many professionally released works and those behind it, as if to imply he is better than them.

So with that in mind and his art at display, his work gets obviously judged on another level than certain other stuff online would likely be judged.

For example, as far as things go, this strip would be “passable” as a stupid joke that references Inspector Gadget, if just drawn by some hobby artist.

But as something from a “professional”? It’s rather underwhelming, even in something that is not meant to be the biggest selling point of him at the time it came out (serious sidenote: SYAC was essentially just a side project next to Alex ze Pirate and Dobson doing comics in collaboration with Brentalfloss. It was only after the collaboration ended and Dobson essentially put Formera and Alex into indefinite hiatus, that SYAC became his main comic)

It also doesn’t help (and sorry for repeating myself) that as far as his intentions go to make a comic about “silly problems” cartoonists face in creating their work, it still is filled with strips like these

Like, what is the point of a comic showing you as a kid getting scared by the intro tune to the Ghostbusters theme on a shitty computer game? The only thing I can think of when it comes to the “magical changing tv” is that your lol face looks stupid and slightly punchable (like your cheeks are falling in) and what the joke about the Minecraft comic is supposed to be I have no freaking idea. I know that those green penises tend to explode, but what does that have to do with making a comic?

Now to be fair, there are some comics about the subject of creating comics…

And Dobson even has done some “tutorials” and q&a to teach people about his comic creating process.

Tutorials whose advice I myself can not really judge, because frankly I am not an artist myself. I judge Dobson’s strips/comics primarily on execution of jokes, writing and intend. And frankly, as long as the final result looks good, I myself do not really care how it is achieved. The problem is, that the final results just tends to look kinda like this on average, so…

Yeah. And don’t get me even started on his “advice” to writing

 As such, I would take ANY art advice by Dobson with a huge grain of salt

 That said, I will give Dobson the following: This q&a strip here e.g. where he more or less talks about the nature of backgrounds in what seems to be a way more sincere tone than I see in his stuff on average?

I think it is kinda adorable and shows that he actually can draw more than just a self insert in front of a green void, if he just wants to.

Plus, I think there are actually some solid strips in SYAC. Not artistically, but I will admit that strips like this

This…

And these…

182, 118 and 119, 120

 And these...

Are actually kinda fitting and situations I can imagine people to deal with when creating a comic. To me they are relatable, and the later got a chuckle out of me.

 Even some strips of Dobson’s persona just at his booth or having his own “hilarious” moments in life are at least passable to some degree.

So shock of all shocks, not everything about SYAC, even at that time in Dobson’s life, was that bad. Like I give him credit, at least once upon a time he was able to make fun of himself…

Heck, I give that copy pasta comic at least that as obvious as the joke is, it is a bit clever. Not the smartest joke, but it could be worse. At least here Dobson kinda admits he will do copy paste. Unlike when he whines about “sexist crap”

 But then there are certain strips that at least are worth to raise an eyebrow. Like the anime related strips in the previous post or this bizarre confession in relation to one of his q&As.

Okay, I was thankfully saved from ever watching the atrocity known as Barney, so just let me check on google who the heck Baby Bop is to understand what… oh. And he drew artwork of Barney killing her. … that sounds kinda worrysome.

Then there is how Dobson e.g. decided to “address” his infamy regarding his opinion on Zelda-Ocarina of Time…

“hich involves a critic of his being portrayed as an ugly basement dweller. Or this comic, which got rather infamous once it got linked to Brianna Wu and Dobson would most likely want to forget nowadays, as it portrays him, the ally of the LGBT community as someone who actually is rather freaked out at men comfortable with a more feminine side/attire.

So now we have more or less covered some good and some bad ones. But what about the “ugly” ones? Yeah, that is going to be a quick skim through the archives with showing some strips that are going to stand out, because they give a first insight in how Dobson deals with criticism, perceives people (or rather stand ins for them) and their opinions, as well as how he tries and fails to catch up on certain trends.

#adobsonartworks #Andrew Dobson #syac #so you are a cartoonist #review #comic #webcomics #Tom Preston #adobsoncomic #adobsonartwork

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #228: TRIAL and ERROR!

February, 1983

AT LAST! The trial of Yellowjacket!

Its been over a month in-universe and about a year out of universe but here we are. The Trial of Hank Pym.

Although the time getting here was mostly farting around with other stuff while Hank sat in prison. Can you believe Scott Lang is the only person we see visit him?

The Avengers found time to experiment on an immortal child who thought jumping into the sun was a good idea but not to visit Hank?

I’m not saying that Jan should have had to put herself through that and Tony is clearly feeling too guilty over the whole thing. But Cap didn’t visit? Hawkeye didn’t? Mr. Lets Bust Hank Out?

Possibly they did off-screen. The Hank arc has been kind of suffering from Shooter’s inability to balance writing and EICing. I feel that if redone, there would be more to the arc.

Anyway, the trial!

We skipped the first two days. Its the third day of the trial now.

The graphic guy went above and beyond for that Sad Composited Hank graphic.

I like the AN AVENGER’S DARKEST HOUR thing.

I also like the setup for recapping the necessary details.

Ex-Avenger attempts to heist the government would be big news so all the information is conveyed as this news report.

INCLUDING COURTROOM SKETCHES

God, that’s good.

That’s good comicing. Amazing.

Look at Thor in a courtroom sketch. Superb.

Look at that cheesy graphic for the coverage. Does anybody in Marvel even use a domino mask?? Everything about this is amazing.

People may say that Frank Miller revolutionized using media talking heads for social commentary in his comics. Maybe. Maybe so. But how many courtroom sketches did he include? Huh?

So apparently the reason why we’re on day three of the trial is that days one and two were entirely debates over whether Hank was even fit to stand trial.

I’d’ve thought they would get that out of the way ahead of time.

And Hank wants his day in court. So who was arguing he wasn’t fit to stand trial? The prosecution?

Apparently, the prosecution tried to argue that Hank’s history as a hero made his crimes more heinous, as a legal argument.

Which, uh? Um? Uh?

The defense objected that this was prejudicial but they were overruled.

The news recap ends when She-Hulk turns off the television angrily for reminding her of her legal career.

She-Hulk: “Leeches! I haven’t met Henry Pym, but he can’t be the creep they’re making him out to be! And that prosecutor -- ! I know it’s his job, but do they all have to be sanctimonious?! I hated that when I was a practicing attorney, and I don’t hate it any less since I’ve become She-Hulk!”

Reminds me that her nemesis in her original Savage She-Hulk book was an Assistant DA called Buck Bukowski who was a real sexist douche.

He mellowed out over the course of the book, mostly by learning that a death he blamed She-Hulk for was sorta his fault, but I wonder if she left LA so she wouldn’t be tempted to throw him out to sea.

She-Hulk is also still super bored (in New York??) and wanders downstairs to see if anyone is up to anything interesting.

Downstairs in the gym, she finds that the Caps are training.

The Captains America and Marvel.

Cap(tain America) is doing some combat training with Captain Monica Marvel.

This will not be at all confusing to have them on the same team.

Anyway, this training sequence is amazing so lets just have it all:

Cool stuff, Caps.

The training has to be cut short because Cap(tain America) has a prior commitment but still good stuff.

She-Hulk applauds Captain Marvel’s showing but Marvel waves it off as thanks to Cap(tain America)’s training. Which Cap(tain America) waves off as thanks to her being a quick study.

Its like a self-perpetuating modesty loop in here.

Cap excuses himself to go to his prior engagement.

Captain Marvel: “It’s easy to see why he’s called a living legend! He’s very good! And his grasp of strategy is second to none!”

She-Hulk: “Yeah, he does pretty well for a guy with no powers, but I could take him!”

What a this era of She-Hulk thing to say, She-Hulk.

Captain Marvel tells She-Hulk hey maybe not! Cap has stood up to some pretty tough customers, including Jen’s cousin the Hulk.

Which She-Hulk didn’t know!

Y’know, after Bruce (or recently implied to be Joe Fixit Actually??) started Jen’s origin story, the Hulk has not much further relevance in the Savage She-Hulk book. Jen doesn’t even give any indication that she’s keeping up with his exploits.

Not surprising, since the book was trying to be its own thing. And Jen’s life just starts to implode not very far into her solo so she doesn’t have time to also worry about Bruce.

Captain Marvel mentions that all of Cap(tain America)’s run-ins with the Hulk are recorded in the Avengers computer archives and She-Hulk concedes she should give that a look.

Hey, she finally has something to do in New York!

Captain Marvel also tells She-Hulk that she’s going to head home.

She-Hulk: “You have a place in the city?”

Captain Marvel: “Not this city... New Orleans.”

She-Hulk: “NEW ORLEANS?!?”

Captain Marvel: “Sure! It’s a snap to commute -- when you can travel at the speed of light! Take care!”

And then she nyooms off!

NYOOM!

It’s a good point! I hadn’t considered it but yeah, Monica can just commute. No need to uproot her life to become an Avenger.

I guess that’s why the decision was so easy for her to make.

She-Hulk is still at the window, wishing she could lightspeed to Malibu, when Thor and Janet arrive from court.

Janet thanks Thor for coming to court with her. Which he says no big to because “Time given to one’s friends is well spent. Would that I had given more time to poor Henry before this.”

You’re a cool guy, Thor.

The mention of Hank has Jan break down a little.

Jan: “Oh, Thor! Why has this happened to us... to all of us? We’re Avengers!”

Thor: “But still we are human -- aye, even a ‘god’ such as I! None of us are immune to wounds of the spirit. We err... we misunderstand. Janet? Is there anything more I can do?”

Jan: “No! No... I’m all right! We mustn’t dwell on the past. The future’s all that matters!”

Thor: “But...”

Jan: “I don’t want to talk about it anymore!”

Geez.

We’ve seen how affected the Avengers have been by what Hank has done and what they think he has done. We’ve seen Jan is more messed up by it than the smile she puts on lets on.

But the plaintive questioning of how this could be happening to the Avengers still hits hard.

Thor respects Jan’s wish to end the discussion to the frustration of She-Hulk who has been watching this conversation from the upstairs window.

She’s frustrated that Jan won’t just let it out, that Thor just let the subject drop.

She-Hulk: “It’s that blasted Avengers’ tradition of ‘respecting the privacy of members’ personal affairs.’ The founding members carry it too far! Can’t they see how it hurts them? And Jan -- ? Why does she hold in all that grief and heartache? Why doesn’t she cry and scream and shout and get it out of her system?!”

Jen and Jan are two very different people!

But She-Hulk, and Hulks generally, are about letting your feelings out. And Jan van Wasp has long been about playing the flighty sprite.

I’d crack joke about She-Hulk being this invested in the drama of the Avengers already but Jan is her friend. They presumably went car shopping together.

And She-Hulk has very few friends and almost zero female friends. Her one female friend died in a convoluted car accident and then She-Hulk mostly had a male supporting cast. Thank goodness she’s here on the Avengers with its two whole other women.

Meanwhile, at Stark International, Cap(tain America) has come to pay a visit.

He hasn’t been able to reach Tony in days. And Tony’s secretary told him that Tony has locked himself away in his private lab and that he doesn’t want to see anyone.

But if he didn’t want to see anyone, he should have thought twice about making it so that the security system will let in any Cap that flashes an Avengers ID.

Cap is particularly worried because of that nasty argument they had about Tony dating Jan. Tony has been pretty down since they broke up and Cap doesn’t want to see him fall apart like Hank did.

And.

Tony is. Doing. Maybe not okay.

He’s sweating a lot and unshaven and monomaniacally focused on a project.

Cap finds him holding up an enormous piece of machinery and doing SCIENCE.

This is the final evolution of Tony’s guilty conscience regarding Hank Pym.

Iron Man: “Remember how Moondragon used her mental powers to mess with our heads? Well, it’s my theory that she’s responsible for Hank’s recent troubles! I aim to prove that with this cerebral scanner! This baby should tell us whether or not Hank did the crazy things he did because of some outside mental influence! I hope I’m right!”

I mean, he raises a fair point! I don’t think its the case because what would it have benefited Moondragon to make Hank do what he did? And if its an inadvertent thing, she mind controlled a lot of people when the roster change-up was happening back in #211 so why did only Hank get affected? Plus, it doesn’t really match up with what both Hank and Jan have been saying about his behavior deteriorating before then.

But, Tony is going to Tony. And he, like many fans and writers and editors, just want a simple nonsense explanation that can make a distressing thing go away.

Cap points out that the ginormous machine can’t exactly be dragged down to the courthouse but this is just the prototype. Tony is going to have a miniaturized version ready by Monday.

Cap: “I see. Tony, how long have you been up?”

Iron Man: “I don’t know... 30... 40 hours, maybe. What difference does it make?”

Cap: “It makes plenty! You’ve had some rough sledding lately... You can’t keep on driving yourself this way!”

Iron Man: “But I have to do something for Hank. I feel that I let him down... In so many ways.”

Cap: “You can’t help him if you kill yourself in the process!”

Tony is going to Tony. I think that in some ways he might have a more overdeveloped guilt complex than Peter Parker or Matt Murdock.

For Reasons, I’ve taken a look at how things are going in the Iron Man book around this time and oof. Poor Tony.

Over in Leonia, New Jersey, Vision and Scarlet Witch are watching the trial coverage on the news and-

Okay.

1.) How do you make watching the network news so moody and dramatic, Vision? Do you ever actually relax?

2.) Do you two just wear your costumes around the house? Surely you must have other clothes? Vision? Do you have other clothes?

Some other stuff is that Wanda has been holding up Jan and Hank as the ideal marriage so this whole thing has been weirding her out. Although Vision has had a less rosy opinion of it, having been there for it with all of the marrying the split personality nonsense involved.

Although I don’t know why issue #68 is referenced. I don’t think that had anything to do with anything. Issue #60 is where the wedding happened.

Bet whoever put that caption wishes they had access to the internet.

I kind of wish we got more stuff like earlier, got to see Avengers not currently on the team and other heroes that worked with Hank Pym reacting to his disgrace exit from the team and then arrest. Wish we could have had Vision and Wanda try to visit him in jail.

Meanwhile, Long Island Sound.

A LOCATION OF EVIL

A suited man arrives and knocks on 13308 McKinley.

He is Dr. Chen Lu and he is expected.

Moonstone/Dr. Karla Sofen meets Dr. Chen Lu at the door and shows him in to the secret science basement where Egghead is running an experiment with the latest scientific equipment that can be begged, borrowed, or stolen.

I’m figuring... mostly stolen? Right? Like Egghead’s plan was to steal all the resources he needed? Because, ugh Effort?

Moonstone interrupts Egghead to let him know Dr. Chen Lu has arrived and Egghead is thrilled! He rushes from his seat to shake his hand.

And the sentiment is returned by Dr. Chen Lu who is eager to join Egghead’s project.

Y’know, Egghead is a jerk and is stealing all of his resources but his project will hugely improve medical science and he’s getting criminal scientists off the street and into some actual science jobs they can be excited about.

Dr. Chen asks how Egghead isn’t dead because he was pretty sure he was told Egghead was dead. And Egghead sure has a tale to tell!

In Defender #43, Egghead set up Cobalt Man to reach critical mass and explode to distract the Defenders so he could steal a magical star. When Cobalt Man found out, he was pretty pissed and decided to blow up Egghead.

Egghead: “We had a bit of a falling out, you might say... and he ended the situation most dramatically. Witnesses actually assumed we’d both perished. In actuality, I had been teleported by an experimental mechanism to relative safety in the New Jersey swamps... and unlike death, one can usually return from the state of New Jersey!”

Damn, Egghead! Criminal genius that you are, you’ve found the only New Jersey joke I’ve ever laughed at! Fiend!

I think its the glasses adjusting what does it.

Anyway, Egghead’s and Dr. Chen’s cool conversation gets interrupted by Tiger Shark and Shocker bursting through the ceiling fighting.

Beetle flies in after them and apologizes for the mess but says ‘really Shocker had it coming, man, fuck Shocker.’

Beetle and Moonstone jump in to separate the two.

Hey, you might be wondering how the Masters of Evil are out of jail when last time we saw them was getting arrested after attacking the Avengers like dumbasses?

Check that panel where Iron Man is lifting a really heavy thing. There’s a news broadcast about a bunch of prison escapes. Good job on the same issue setup, Stern!

Shocker complains that Tiger Shark called him a two-bit hood but Tiger Shark says in his defense that Shocker IS a two-bit hood (Not inaccurate...) who nearly screwed up the isotope heist. But Egghead says that Shocker is an important part of the operation.

Then Tiger Shark notices Dr. Chen Lu and says a slur.

C’mon, guy. Don’t be like that.

Dr. Chen Lu: “Speaking without thinking seems to be second nature to you, Tiger Shark. In the interest of our future partnership, I shall excuse the insult to my race... this time! But I warn you, do not use that word in my presence again, or you shall answer to -- THE RADIOACTIVE MAN!”

Tiger Shark hurriedly says that obviously he didn’t mean to offend. Because Dr. Chen Lu Radioactive Man fwooshed into his green skin (dammit comics whats with you and Asian people and green skin?) radioactive form and costume.

But with Radioactive Man on the team, the Masters of Evil are finally complete and ready for the next step of EGGHEAD’S BOLD PLAN.

Meanwhile, Hawkeye returns to his apartment from his day job, kind of looking a steady paycheck in the mouth. Sure the big wad of bucks is nice but its sooo boring. Thank goodness he has Avengersing to keep things exciting.

He then sings a short bit about “Best of both worlds -- !” because Hawkeye.

Hawkeye sees the news broadcast about the Hank Pym trial and even though he hasn’t been called to testify (because he wasn’t part of the team when Hank was caught with his hands in the government’s cookie jar) he figures what the heck, he’ll go to the trial anyway to show moral support.

And he does! In full costume!

In fairness, so are Thor and Captain America.

I guess Captain America and Hawkeye don’t have publicly revealed identities. But they couldn’t have thrown a suit on Thor?

Please put Thor in a suit. For reasons.

She-Hulk and Wasp are wearing nice court clothes.

Although She-Hulk seems uncomfortable in her nice court clothes.

(By the by, She-Hulk showing up at all makes Hawkeye warm up to her a little, since he figures that in her own way she cares about being an Avenger as much as he does.)

By the way, notice who wasn’t in that picture? Hawkeye leans over to whisper to Cap where is Iron Man? Annnnd Cap thinks maybe he just got wrapped up in his cerebral scanner project.

At this point in the trial (day 4), Hank has finally been called up to the stand to testify on his own behalf.

So, of course, given Hank Pym’s luck, the courtroom explodes.

What a dynamite conclusion to this arc!

The Masters of Evil (Moonstone, Radioactive Man, Tiger Shark, Shocker, and Beetle) jump into the court through the exploded ceiling, grab Hank Pym, have Shocker blow up the load bearing wall, and then run out while the Avengers are distracted holding up the entire ceiling!

An action scene fast enough that I can believe, yes, the Avengers didn’t have time to react to it before it happened.

But Thor is strong enough to hold up the ceiling, so Wasp orders Cap to get the crowd to safety and has She-Hulk and Hawkeye follow her to go after the Masters.

Cap: “Jan’s really coming into her own as group leader! Even Hawkeye’s snapping to at her orders!”

Good. I’m glad that people keep telling me that Wasp is doing a good job as Avengers leader.

Seriously. Given the way that the Avengers book handles teamwork and the idea that the Avengers even have a leader sometimes, I’m glad that the book is explicitly conveying that Wasp is doing good.

Hawkeye net-arrows Tiger Shark, She-Hulk tackles Radioactive Man, Wasp confronts Beetle, and nobody confronts Shocker because its just Shocker.

Beetle scoffs at Wasp trying to stop him but has to eat his words pretty soon. Her Wasp stings being souped up in this recent stretch of comics hasn’t stopped being a thing.

Beetle: “Ow! Maybe I was the one who spoke too soon! Even with my armor, I can feel a little of the Wasp’s bio-stings! If I can’t shake her, she might blow my micro-circuits!”

Very glad that Wasp continues to be an effective fighter in her own right and not just the distraction ‘fly around and pester people.’

She-Hulk just throws Radioactive Man out of the panel, mocking him for being green as her without any of her sweet moves.

Tiger Shark wants another go at She-Hulk after the way she stomped him in #222 but.

Oops guess I shouldn’t have mocked Shocker. Since he was ignored, he can sneak up behind She-Hulk and use HIGH INTENSITY VIBRO-SHOCKS to rattle her bones to dust.

Except, no. I should have mocked Shocker, a little.

Because even though the HIGH INTENSITY VIBRO-SHOCK rattles She-Hulk so that she chatters out “T-t-think a-a-again, y-y-you w-w-walking q-q-quilt!”, she grabs Shocker’s hands and holds him up in the air for Hawkeye to short out Shocker’s gauntlets with a couple of magno-volt arrows.

Shocker crumples, confused because one of the other Masters was supposed to be covering Hawkeye.

Radioactive Man tackles She-Hulk so She-Hulk just belts him away.

So Radioactive Man concedes, well, okay, She-Hulk is stronger than him. But brute force and being green aren’t the extent of his powers. He’s also radioactive, radioactive. 

He hits She-Hulk with a controlled burst of gamma rays, which shifts her back into Jennifer Walters.

Hey, Jen! First time you’ve appeared in this book in this form.

She’s less than pleased. In fact, she starts screaming “No! Not this!!” and begging someone to help her.

Thankfully, the Masters put her out of mind as not a problem anymore.

And the dominoes fall.

Tiger Shark smacks Wasp out of the air, freeing Beetle to blast Hawkeye. And nobody can stop Moonstone from nerve pinching Hank Pym and pulling him into a truck.

Thor and Cap run out of the courthouse, presumably having gotten everyone to safety.

Thor: “Ho, villains! You’ve not won the day yet! Not as long as a single Avenger stands!”

Thor do what Thor do and what Thor do is throw Mjolnir.

Exceppppt its at Radioactive Man and Radioactive Man can still deflect Mjolnir with energy fields. Radiation can do that. Mjolnir doesn’t exist in real life so we can’t prove that radiation can’t do that.

Radioactive Man deflects Mjolnir right at Captain America. He gets his shield up in time but it still knocks him on his ass.

The Masters all book it into the truck while the Avengers get to their feet.

Wasp orders Hawkeye to shoot out the tires to the truck. But before he can and before it can be fruitless, a getaway truck explodes out of the truck and flies off more quickly than the Avengers can chase.

And by “the Masters all book it into the truck” I mean, “except Shocker” because they ditched him.

With the Masters escaped, Wasp turns on the shocked Shocker and rips off his mask and demands he tell them where the Masters are going.

But the shocked Shocker is too shocked to answer. He seems out of it, really.

So Wasp changes the question. Who is behind this? Why did they want to kidnap Hank Pym?

Shocker: “Why? It... it was his idea! Dr. Pym’s idea... He arranged for us to free him!”

DUN DUN DUUUUU- no wait we know thats not it

whats your game shocker

Sometime later, Hank Pym wakes up in Egghead’s lab. And, of course, immediately leaps up to kick the shit out of Egghead as soon as he sees him.

Alas, Tiger Shark holds him back.

Egghead: “Don’t restrain him too tightly, Tiger Shark! He’s of no use to us injured!”

Hank Pym: “I’ll ‘use’ you, Egghead! You’re responsible for ruining my life! You manipulated me into stealing that government adamantium... and set me up, when your scheme failed! You’re mad if you think you can make me help you now!”

Egghead: “Pish-tosh!”

Good rejoinder, Egghead.

God, this also cracks me up.

Egghead says that he’s in the middle of a great experiment and that he needs the world’s greatest biochemist, Hank Pym.

Hank is still on the ‘why the hell do you think I’ll help you, I hate you so much.’

So Egghead has the tv turned on.

Anchorman, Non Burgundy: “... Authorities were stunned by the news that Dr. Pym had planned his own abduction! The Avengers refused to comment on the Shocker’s confession, but polygraph experts confirmed --”

Egghead explains that Shocker was a patsy. His gauntlets were secretly rewired with special circuits that brainwashed him into believing what Egghead wanted him to. So thoroughly that it fooled a lie detector.

Egghead: “As far as the world is concerned, Henry, you are now most assuredly a criminal. No one will believe otherwise. Not the police... not even your former friends. You have no one to turn to in this world... except us! Join the Masters of Evil, Henry! We will give you a new life!”

Hank Pym: “All right... I’ll do it!”

DUN DUN DUN!!

Wow, so I guess Egghead wasn’t just being petty. He was also systematically destroying what little was left of Hank’s life to force him to work on SCIENCE project with him.

Proving his innocence and ‘getting his dignity back’ was all Hank had left to him.

Geez, sucks to be Hank Pym!

Psst, follow @essential-avengers​? Like and reblog?

#Avengers #Egghead #Masters of Evil #Hank Pym #the Wasp #She Hulk #Hawkeye #Thor #Captain America #Captain Marvel #monica rambeau #Iron Man #not doing so well #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging #SUPERHERO LEGAL DRAMhaha just kidding it gets interrupted #lot of interesting trajectories the avengers are going on in this issue #so far so good on the Stern run

[wistfulchicken]

PART TWO : THE RECOVERY ROOM

Word Count: 1,160 | Rating: G 

Summary: Wonka steps out of the elevator and unlocks the door. “Welcome to the factory,” he says, flashing an enigmatic smile.

Now that Shams is safe and sound inside the factory, he starts to realize just how strange and wonderful his day promises to be.

Read part one here.

(complete chapter under the cut)

⭒✦⭒✧⭒✦⭒✧⭒✦⭒✧⭒✦⭒✧

Shams takes a careful step out of the great glass elevator. His footsteps echo in the tunnel. Wonka holds the red door open for him as he enters the room, followed closely by the little boy. If there is any panic left in him, it all melts away at the sight he finds awaiting him behind that little door.

The floor is carpeted with colors; red and gold and deep purple, all swirling across the room in curved stripes. The walls are painted a pleasant cream color, with a single line of pink dots running along the bottom. The room itself is oddly shaped; it’s neither a rectangle nor a circle, but it’s full of twisted nooks and rounded corners, brightly lit by oversized light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The furniture designs are just as peculiar as the rest of the place. There’s an intense blue double armchair with cup-holders sticking out the sides. The coat rack looks like chocolate melting off the wall. There’s a large orange couch facing a flat screen TV, and several yellow bean bags around it.

But weirdest of all is the big buzzing machine in the center of the room. It has several levers; all of them topped with tiny red balls. On its side, written in bold letters, are the words: HOCO-CHOCO MACHINE. Its droning is oddly calming.

Wonka shrugs off his coat and lets it fall to the floor. He doesn’t bother picking it up, and instead walks straight to the Hoco-Choco Machine. The little boy hangs his coat and scarf on the rack and turns to Shams with a friendly smile. “May I take your coat?”

“Thank you,” Shams nods.

The boy hangs the coat next to his own then gestures towards the big orange couch. “Make yourself comfortable,” he adds, sounding a lot more mature than his age would suggest. “I’m Charlie, by the way.”

“My name is Shams.”

“Would you like a blanket, Shams?”

“I’m fine, thanks. It’s warm in here.”

“It’s always the perfect temperature. This is the Recovery Room.”

Shams leans back on the couch, sinking into the plush mattress. It’s so comfortable he could cry. That’s when he notices the window on the wall opposite him. The sky beyond it is a pearlescent white. It’s peaceful in a way that makes Shams sigh with contentment; he hasn’t felt this serene in a very long time. And although his body is still a little shaken, his mind feels tranquil, at ease. The calm after the storm is so often overlooked, but Shams always tries to bask in it as long as he can.

Distracted, he doesn’t notice Charlie heading towards the Hoco-Choco Machine until he hears muttering coming from the center of the room. He turns to see Wonka and Charlie conferring in animated whispers and frantically pulling the levers on either side of the machine. The sight would’ve been comical, had Shams’ curiosity allowed him to feel anything but wonder.

He is inside the chocolate factory. Now that his panic has disappeared completely, he realizes the magnitude of the situation. No one has ever been inside the factory, except for those five children and their parents a few months ago. The boy Charlie must be the winner, then—Wonka’s heir. And now Shams is here, and he’s not quite sure how or why he’s been granted such a privilege. He’s too tired and too comfortable to actually worry about anything right now, so he simply watches as Wonka and Charlie walk back towards him with three fuming purple mugs.

“We’ve improvised a new drink for you,” Charlie says proudly, handing Shams a mug.

“Thank you,” Shams replies, taking it. The drink looks like hot chocolate, with four lavender marshmallows floating about in the mug, except… “It’s got ice cubes in it?”

“Those are hot ice cubes,” Wonka explains, eyes gleaming, “for putting in hot drinks. Extremely useful in the winter.”

Shams touches the tip of his finger to one of the ice cubes, making it clink against the mug. As absurd as it seems, it is hot!

“Incredible,” Shams mutters, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Charlie sits in one of the bean bags, sipping his own drink. Wonka discards his mug on a small glass table next to the couch and remains standing, leaning on his walking stick. “Well don’t just look at it,” he nods at Shams, “go ahead, take a sip!”

It’s a little intimidating to try a new drink when its creator is staring at you, but Shams brings the mug to his lips nonetheless. He doesn’t expect anything less than perfection: this is Willy Wonka after all, the chocolate magician—a proper artist, a genius—and Shams has been an admirer of his candy bars for as long as he can remember. But still, despite all this, that first sip of hot chocolate exceeds his wildest expectations.

An explosion of taste and texture; creamy and soft, sweet and slightly spicy, rich with flavour, it’s heaven, heaven in a mug, and the second sip brings something new—caramel?—and then there’s a subtle white chocolate aftertaste; absolutely divine…

“I’m… this is—it’s just… wow,” Shams stammers, lost for words.

Wonka chuckles, evidently pleased with his guest’s wordlessness. Charlie smiles into his mug. They’re feeling a little smug, Shams can tell, but he allows it without a comment; after making a drink this good, they deserve to feel as smug as they want. He all but downs his hot chocolate in a few seconds, then fishes a marshmallow out of the bottom of the mug, popping it into his mouth with a happy sigh.

Chewing on his marshmallow—it tastes like violets!—he realizes he hasn’t thanked his hosts for getting him out of the cold. Considering the state they found him in, he isn’t sure he would’ve made it home safely.

“Um, thank you so much for your hospitality,” he says a little awkwardly, placing his mug on the glass table and looking between Wonka and Charlie. “I wouldn’t have made it out there alone. I owe you one.”

“It’s nothing,” Charlie answers. He speaks with composure far beyond his years, but with the kind of honestly and simplicity that only children can understand. “We know what it’s like.”

And those words, we know what it’s like, are enough to make Shams feel safe and seen. He smiles at Charlie, trying to convey all his gratitude. Then he looks up at Wonka, only to find the chocolatier staring into the distance, purple eyes lost somewhere far, far away. He snaps out of it a second too late, and tries to make up for the momentary lapse with a light-hearted grin.

“Okey dokey,” he says cheerfully. “If you’re done with your cocoa, let’s get on with the tour.”

“The tour?” Shams asks.

“Of the factory,” Wonka’s grin grows wider. “We mustn’t dilly or dally; there's even less time to lose than there was before!”

#my writing #willy wonka #charlie bucket #original character #shams and the chocolate factory #catcf 2005

[stvlti]

a belated review of Robin War (2016)

so I read the Robin War saga and the event tie-ins earlier during the lockdown and I have some thoughts. 

【----- SPOILERS BELOW -----】

First off, the political allegory wrt the We Are Robin movement? Absolutely brilliant. Gave me shivers. This here:

"to use every means to find and arrest anyone participating in this movement"

antagonists are so much more effective when you know there are real life people in power just like them. her eating expensive steaks while she more or less declares war on kids from working and middle class backgrounds twice less her age? ugh, those optics, pure evil.

And the fact that this Councilwoman is later revealed to be colluding with the Court of Owls just makes it even more chilling. This, "Robin War", only began because a bunch of aristocratic oligarchs willed it so, and they were willing to militarise and mobilise the police force to do their dirty deeds while they hide from the shadows.

Frankly, how quickly the GCPD became a tool of oppression in the hands of political leaders like her reminds me a Lot of the reasons why ACABs say that the police force is structurally made for suppression and violence towards citizens.........

I rest my case. These explorations of police brutality hit very close to home - something that with Duke's character in the mix (see the next comic cap below) feels a lot like DC was deliberately harkening back to the BLM movement. And I would say they got a good thing going with that comparison.

Side note: the whole moral panic, "we know what's best for the children" rhetoric that Councilwoman Noctua is spewing right here? It's exactly the sort of rhetoric I've had to endure from pearl-clutching conservatives for the better part of the Anti Extradition and related protests over here in Hong Kong since June last year. And that's why I really appreciate this scene, it captures the infuriating essence of a youth movement being suppressed by the adults in charge, a movement where the youths simply aren't being heard. And it genuinely angered me to see the agency stripped away from these youths who just wanted to help in the crusade, because the police force is inept to begin with, only to have the police come cracking down on them because some corrupt career politician is a-okay with ordering so and having children's blood on her hands just to gain approval from a shadow government. Which, it's more reason this scenario is so familiar to me: the Hong Kong government is a puppet government under the Chinese government, and if they wanted the situation to escalate the local government would heel. Hence, why schoolchildren was getting shot in the streets last summer. It's very real, very painful, and that's why this issue made a brilliant beginning to the Robin War saga.

(Full disclosure, I will be making more comparisons between this saga and my own experiences living in a movement like this in the form of the Hong Kong Anti Extradition protests; I do this not just to vent, but to point out how realistically Robin War portrays certain details of a political movement like that and its ramifications. The fact that they portray it well enough to resonate with me is a point in its favour.)

What all this adds up to is, of course, the idea that Robin as a figurehead becomes a symbol of political resistance. Another detail that is very real and very painful - the prohibition of all paraphernalia related to the movement:

Police brutality on young black men aside, the entire idea of giving power to symbols and banning them is straight out of a police state dictatorship playbook. At the time of the protests, the HK adminstration over here invoked the Emergency Regulatory Ordinance (the same ordinance that grant the administration precedence over the parliament and can be used to declare things such as martial law), all just so they can ban masks to curb the black bloc protesters. A lot of university students wearing black got frisked on campus. There was a very active campaign in place to spread white terror among the youth. Duke's treatment here - getting frisked and even arrested on sight just for wearing the colours related to the movement - really reminded me of that, and again, frames things realistically and adds power to the narrative that Robin War was trying to tell.

This was another moment that really shook me to my core. How many tales have I heard of protesters standing on the opposite side of their loved ones? Wives and girlfriends of cops who stand on the frontline of rallies, across from the riot police's guns? Children of government civil servants who have to sneak out behind their parents' back to fight for a cause they believe in, at the risk of their own safety and familial pride? It's too real, and it hurts on a personal level, for me.

I think these details were the best moments in Robin War - they were universal experiences that resonate emotionally with a lot of disaffected youth with a bone to pick with the system these days, I'm sure. Unfortunately, the event loses sight of this overarching narrative outside the two-issue Robin War book - bogged down by the actual Batboy Robins and a need to account for their individual character perspectives and involvement in this event. The Court would have continued to be an excellent allegory for an antagonistic shadow government made up of oligarchical rulers, but the story couldn't resist leaning into the Talon lore and the whole Gray Son subplot there. And by heavily featuring Damian's perspective as well, they transfer the focus onto a personal conflict of a character that frankly has nothing to do with the core of the Robin movement and War.

In the end, the Robin War turned out to be something that was resolved by 3 players - Lincoln March, Damian, and Dick Grayson - all of whom, (a) mostly weren't even involved at the inception of the movement and War, and (b) represent the established order and status quo in Gotham's hierarchy of influential figures working incognito from the shadows (whether that's the Court or the Batclan, they're part of the established tradition in Gotham lore, if you will). The resolution and relative victory had nothing much to do with Duke and his buddies' efforts. So in the end, even the narrative reduced the Robin movement to a plot device, just another chess piece in the game between Dick and the Court - even the narrative strips agency away from Duke and his Robins! And since this story started with Duke as the protagonist, structurally speaking that broke the unity of action as well. It was a disappointing ending, not gonna lie.

All in all, this story event was at its best in its explorations of the concept of Robin being a symbol of youth resistance, truly putting a modern spin on the character and bringing "Robin" back to the original idea of vigilantism in the context of current sociopolitical climate, as well as in its more grounded portrayals of what a youth movement under such a "Robin" would look like. I wish the DC editorial had been ballsy enough to let go of the established characters and lore a bit and let Duke take centre stage again at the closing of the event to round out narrative. But then again, I suppose that's what the DCYou We Are Robin book was for.

#spoilers // #robin war #we are robin #dc meta #Duke Thomas #long post #sorry no read more cuts on mobile #Eugenia reads DC Rebirth #Eugenia writes meta #police brutality

[intergalactic-zoo]

Whoopsie, went a whole year without posting.

I very much enjoy the Arrowverse shows, even though the only episodes of Arrow I've seen are the crossover tie-ins. Legends of Tomorrow is a constant delight, Black Lightning is incredible, The Flash is good superhero melodrama, and Supergirl is fine. It's fine. It's generally mostly fine. 

Look, Supergirl started out strong on CBS, but since it moved to CW, it's been plagued by recurring problems. The cast is stellar. I love every actor and character on that show. Dreamer is a revelation, and I want to see her ongoing comic series (where maybe her powers will be slightly more clearly developed). 

But the politics? The recent episode dealing with violence against trans women (and trans women of color in particular) was a welcome and refreshing shift in the show's usual tone of Peak Liberal White Feminism. For a show that has its heart so clearly in the right place, tackling real-world issues like internment camps for immigrants and the radicalization of cishet white men into fascist paramilitary organizations, it has also featured a hero who, up until last season, was consistently working with a government organization and adopting center-left approaches that openly demonized actual leftists and ignored intersectionality in favor of a lily-white worldview. 

Buckle in, comrades. This is an anarchist blog now. 

There are other problems as well. The way they derailed the Kara-Jimmy relationship to pair her with Mon-El for a season, then fumbled around to find something to do with his character until he left the show, feels more than a little casually racist. I think there are legitimate queerbaiting complaints to be had about how they've handled the Kara/Lena relationship. Alex's shifting desires and priorities have felt less like character development and more like trying to figure out where she fits in the show now.

There's a lot of good, too, especially with some of this most recent season's course corrections. Killing Dean Cain's character offscreen was a hilarious solution to that unfortunate problem. I appreciated Brainiac-5's evolution that gave him a more comics-accurate Coluan appearance and removed some of the played-out "smart guy doesn't understand emotions" character type. I like that every time Lena says "Non Nocere" it makes me think of standing in a Buffalo Stance.

And I've liked Tyler Hoechlin and Bitsie Tulloch as Superman and Lois Lane, on the occasions where they've appeared. Tulloch isn't my favorite Lois, and I wish Hoechlin's costume had the trunks, but they've been quite good when they've shown up. And, you know, this is the first live-action Superman show with tights and flights and the word "Superman" in the title since 1997. I am, unexepctedly, excited for that. 

Besides that, it's a different take on the characters. Lois gets second billing, but rather than being a will-they/won't-they romantic dramedy, it's centered on Clark and Lois as an established couple and experienced parents of teenagers. Personally, I'd prefer the kids to be younger—Crisis changed their single infant into two teenage boys—but I suppose there are some story and tone reasons to prefer teenage kids. Overall, I think a lot of the choices are really savvy: setting the story in Smallville immediately sets this show apart from urban Supergirl, and the teens who cut their sci-fi melodrama teeth on Clark and Lois and Lex in Smallville are now in their thirties, settling down and having kids of their own. This show has the potential of tapping into that 20-year nostalgia cycle for the mid-2000s.

But...well, my excitement has been dampened somewhat in the lead-up to the premiere. Naturally, there's the stories Nadria Tucker has told about experiences in the writers' room, how they dismissed concerns about racism and sexism, about "#metoo jokes" and the like. There's also the optics; Supergirl is coming to an end next season, and it's hard not to feel weird about the diverse, female-dominated show about found family being more-or-less replaced with the nuclear family show whose principal cast is four white people, three of them dudes. I never really watched the trailer, but the response to it on my social media feed was largely negative (though for whatever reason, my social media feed is heavy on people who apparently aren't happy if Superman's not snapping necks in a rubber suit). On the other hand, I've seen really positive responses from two of the Superman fans I respect the most, Charlotte Finn and David Mann. And that clip of Hoechlin in the Fleischer suit and the Action #1 pose? Yeah, that's pretty cool. 

So I'm not sure what to expect as I finally hit up the ol' TiVo and watch the two-hour Pilot. But I'm about to find out. 

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