#the shirts all have the symbols of their respective gods on the back but obviously you cant see them at this angle jhbvhjbfdv
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Ω ~ Giving the besties matching Camp Half-Blood t-shirts cause they stay silly!! ~ Ω
Some close-ups!
#percy jackon and the olympians#heroes of olympus#percy jackson#annabeth chase#nico di angelo#leo valdez#jason grace#hazel levesque#piper mclean#frank zhang#pjo#hoo#myart#i miss them!! i miss my friends!!!#the shirts all have the symbols of their respective gods on the back but obviously you cant see them at this angle jhbvhjbfdv#i made tshirt designs for the other cabins too but uh#i spent like 11 hours on this drawing i think im just gonna stick with these campers LMAO
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The Colors of Crowley
Black is the color Crowley uses to cover himself, red is the color that represents Crowley to himself, and yellow is the color that represents Crowley to Aziraphale. What each color symbolizes and how it's used give us important information about Crowley (and to some degree Aziraphale) and about the ineffable relationship.
I feel kind of dumb writing this post because I'm sure it's glaringly obvious to everyone else, but there's this Metro UK article of all things (the Metro is owned by the hardcore rightwing Daily Mail, btw, so please don't link to it) that mentions the red stitching on Crowley's gloves in 1867, and it made conscious some details I had only subconsciously noted, so fwiw to anybody else, here are my notes on the colors associated with Crowley in Good Omens and their significance in the context of the way each one is used.
I don't think we need to cover black-as-evil in Western color symbology. [And yet here's a long-ass paragraph about it anyway! --Ed.] Light:dark::good:evil has been a thing with Christianity since before Christianity was even Judaism. The Israelites picked it up from the Zoroastrians way back before YHWH had subsumed El as 'God,' which may have been before they were Israelites as well; I mean it was a LONG time ago. Good Omens has been using black and white to represent Hell and Heaven, respectively, long before the show. In the UK, the book was published in paperback with a choice of black or white cover with an illustration of the contrasting character in the contrasting color: Crowley illustrated in black, Aziraphale in white. The current hardcover is grey.
Crowley wears black, and the Bentley is black. At the metanarrative or authorial level this is obviously for the purposes of the black/white demon/angel contrast, but on the intra-narrative level, the Watsonian level, it's interesting to note that Crowley doesn't have to wear black. He's obviously not free to choose from the full color palette, but Furfur's shirt and sash are is dark emerald green, Dagon is in ultramarine (as befits a marine Elder God), and Shax has only been on Earth for four years before she's wearing head-to-toe oxblood. When she shows up later in battle dress she's got a lot of oxblood there, too. And yet Crowley wears black.
Authorial reasons aside, black suits Crowley for a couple intra-narrative reasons. For much of history, black was the most expensive color to dye and maintain in clothing, and as a result it has always been fashionable. And for several centuries in Christendom, wearing black was also a sign that you were in mourning, which was a social and religious obligation when someone close to you died. Whether you could wear other colors with it depended on how long ago that death had occurred.
Again: black is what Crowley chooses to cover himself, and as there is a sharp distinction between how Crowley presents himself to fulfill his obligations and who he thinks of himself as being, there is likewise a distinction between the colors that represent those two quantities as well.
Red is the color the show uses to represent Crowley to Crowley. The most obvious reason is his hair. This is another change from Book Omens, where Crowley is described as having hair that is "dark." A lot of fans in the UK hated the change when S1 came out because fans hate change and the British have a thing against gingers, but Crowley's red hair suits him better than dark imo because the Mother of Demons in Jewish religious literature, Lilith, is traditionally depicted with red hair. Red hair has been associated for more than a millenium in the Middle East and England and Wales with sorcery, witchcraft, demonic influence/possession, and satan-worship.
Crowley wishes his mom was this cool with snakes.
A good case can be made that Crowley genuinely likes the color red in addition to considering it demonically appropriate. I say this for three reasons. Firstly, because when he has a (limited) choice of (again, demonically appropriate) colors, he always chooses red. The marble of the desk in his apartment is not green or grey. He can have any color stitching on his gloves or lining of his jacket collar he wants, but it's always red. Secondly, it's not only red he chooses, it's almost always bright red.
We know Crowley's red isn't supposed to represent blood or violence, because we have another demon character whose use of red represents just that, and it's not the same red:
Compare Shax' oxblood and burgundy to
and
and
and
Crowley's red isn't just red, it's lipstick, cherry, crimson red. And in case we weren't sure that we should read this red as symbolizing passionate, romantic love:
Romantic symbolism aside, bright red is also the color of passion (romantic or otherwise), optimism, heat, vitality, life, (hell)fire, and warning.
Red and black says don't fuck with Jack.
The third reason I think we can safely say that Crowley actually likes the color red is that he hides it. It's always tiny little touches, some of which you have to look for to see. (I still don't know where they snuck in the red on his Elizabethan habit, e.g.) And we know this color is a risk for him, and that he is right to hide it, because Ligur, who doesn't approve of any of Crowley's less-than-fully-demonic embellishments and may share Hastur's opinion that Crowley has gone native, comments on one of Crowley's more noticeably colorful items.
And I think the red tells us one more thing about Crowley, too.
Bright red is the colorest of colors, you know? When we can choose only one color to represent all colors, to represent colorfulness itself, we choose bright red (even in cultures where red symbolizes other meanings than it does in Western art).
Remember how Aziraphale gives Crowley's jacket a tartan collar when he swaps bodies with Crowley and impersonates him in Hell because Aziraphale feels the need to maintain some small secret token of his identity, some tiny unremarked sign of something he loves and thinks is beautiful, when he is down there alone in the gloom among enemies?
Crowley is down there alone among enemies every second of every day and night, whether he's in Hell or on Earth. And he's already had his identity stripped from him once. If you were someone who said
about this
and then you got recruited by the fash downstairs bc the fash upstairs threw you out for not being fashy enough and you had to start wearing nothing but dark colors and more importantly had to hide everything that made you feel warmth or softness or joy, and that was it, that was the deal for eternity, but you could add one (1) little touch to everything you wore to remind yourself that there is some beautiful part of you left, something you loved once, that no one has yet been able to steal or brutalize out of you...what color would the stitching on your gloves be?
Lastly, Yellow represents Crowley to Aziraphale. I'm going to skip the chain of evidence for this bc I think it's obvious, but the way it's used also lends itself to some inferences supported in other areas in the show.
Here's where I think changing Crowley's hair to red from Book Omens' dark is a good decision in another way. Crowley always has red hair, and if he has any color in his clothes it's going to be red. Red is eye-catching; it always stands out, but it doesn't stand out as demonic. And yet the color Aziraphale associates with Crowley and calls "pretty" isn't red.
I suspect that when Aziraphale says he can make Crowley an angel again, Crowley hears "You're not good enough for me to accept you as you are, let me fix you" because these are words Aziraphale has said to him many times, and has meant some of those times. But
tells the audience differently. The color Aziraphale associates with Crowley, the color he calls "pretty," is the color of Crowley's only overtly demonic feature. Aziraphale doesn't love the angel he knew who isn't Crowley, he loves Crowley, the demon, the person he is now, his yellow demon irises.
Yellow appears in three other places in S2, and they're all symbolically significant, and in fact serve to establish another symbolic significance to the color yellow in addition to that of Yellow Is the Color of My True Love's Eyes.
One of them is a feather duster:
Crowley reacts to a feather duster like a cat confronted by an unfamiliar object
The other three are private conversations between Aziraphale and Crowley:
The walls that surround Crowley and Aziraphale when they speak openly about their situation and how they will handle it are drenched in yellow, and that is super interesting, because in Western color symbolism yellow is the color of fear. The archangel of whom Crowley and Aziraphale are both (rightly) terrified wields a tool the color of fear. The color of fear saturates the backdrop of conversations between Aziraphale and Crowley when they have to discuss their situation and their actions openly.
Remember how Aziraphale's voice shakes here?
Crowley realizes the crows have just handed an angel evidence the angel can take to Hell and use to have Crowley killed
Even the Bentley, that clear sign of Aziraphale's love for Crowley, is also a yellow coffin enclosing him. For Aziraphale, thoughts of Crowley are always entangled with fear, because Crowley is not just Crowley, he is also Crowley's Fall.
And I think fear is what Crowley's eyes themselves represent. For Crowley, fear is now a fundamental part of his perception, his nature, his identity.
The angel Aziraphale once knew is not Crowley, and yet from what we've seen, the chiefest difference in character between this sweetheart and this mischief-maker--
--is that the Starmaker does not know yet that he should be afraid, and the Serpent does. That knowledge and its fear has, shall we say, colored his view of the world.
Aziraphale learns that fear early by observing others rather than Falling himself, and knows enough that by the first time we meet him in the Before, he is already afraid.
Pink was once symbolically equivalent to red; in modern Western color symbology it is a color of innocence, youth, beauty, and first love. Hashtag just sayin'.
The cruellest thing this suggests to me is that, rather than rebellion or his propensity to ask questions, rather than the knowledge of good and evil, the Starmaker's Fall was caused by his innocence. it wasn't the questions that were the problem: it was that he didn't know any better than to speak them out loud.
Y'all, Crowley and Aziraphale do not suffer from communication problems. Despite both being male-coded and British, they don't even seem to lack emotional intelligence. What they do have is a universe of silence and fear they have to communicate within and around. What they lack is the safety to speak and love freely. The true color of Crowley is crimson, but someone gave him those eyes, and Aziraphale either watched that happen or knew about it, and now Crowley covers himself in black--which btw is also the symbolic color for mystery and secrets--and only lets Aziraphale see him as he really is now, because Aziraphale won't judge him for his yellow eyes (or punish and forsake him for his questions). Because Aziraphale carries that fear with him too.
#good omens#good omens 2#good omens analysis#good omens crowley color analysis#good omens crowley color#crowley#good omens colour analysis good omens crowley colour#good omens colour#good omens meta#angel!crowley#starmaker
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spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 2
part 1: “When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons
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“Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id
For all that I’ve just discussed all of the ways that the first three seasons subvert the romance of Angel, it’s also true that the writing still fundamentally takes him—and Buffy’s relationship with him—seriously. To some degree it has to. Because Buffy is the show’s emotional anchor, if the writing didn’t take her emotions seriously, the audience wouldn’t either. It needs to be sympathetic to her (regardless of whether it endorses her, per se), or else it would run the risk of losing all pathos. Making fun of Buffy and Angel makes for a great gag in “The Zeppo”, and fits with the general way that season three undermines the romanticism of them, but if that was the show’s attitude the whole way through, it would come off as simply meanspirited. It would seem like it was making fun of Buffy for being a stupid teenage girl in love, instead of sympathetically depicting the human experience of being caught up in big, tempestuous emotions.
But at the same time, if the writing were to only take romance seriously, that wouldn’t feel very true either. Or fit with the general Buffy ethos, which loves to flip between serious and silly moods in order to capture all sides of whatever it’s exploring. And therein is the magic of Spike’s addition to the chemistry of the show. Practically from his introduction, Spike parallels Buffy’s romantic storylines, except unlike Buffy, Spike is allowed to do the comic or morally incorrect thing. His status as a soulless vampire means that the show is free to use him to point out both the sillier and darker sides of romance, without tainting Buffy’s heroism or the seriousness of her emotions.
In “Becoming, Part 2” for example, Spike is free to explicitly say that he’s saving the world because he wants Dru back, and leaves Buffy to die once he’s gotten her. Whereas Buffy, despite also wanting the person she loves back, ultimately chooses to save the world rather than keep him. Spike allows the episode to show what Buffy’s, or anyone’s, romantic id might want, without Buffy herself going through with it. He also allows the episode to show the ridiculousness of the romantic id, by giving him comic moments like “Didn’t say I wouldn’t”, or “God, he’s going to kill her”, or beating Angel with a tire iron, or any of the times that Buffy makes fun of him (“The whole earth may be sucked into hell and you want my help ‘cause your girlfriend’s a big ho?”). All of which is in contrast to the tragic seriousness of Buffy’s heartbreak. Spike in season two is not a character without pathos; in fact, he has quite a lot of pathos that parallels Buffy’s--think of the tortured close-up on his face as Angel and Drusilla taunt him in “I Only Have Eyes For You.” But neither is he limited or defined by that pathos.
He plays a similar role in both “Lovers Walk” and “The Harsh Light of Day”. In “Lovers Walk” he’s devastated by the loss of Drusilla, as Buffy was devastated over Angel in “Anne”, yet the way they get out of their respective depressions is very different. Tonally, “Anne” plays Buffy’s misery extremely straight, and when Buffy decides to stop moping and become an agent in her own life again, her version of “agency” means getting in touch with her leadership and heroism. Whereas for Spike, agency means a love spell, or torturing Drusilla into liking him again. The romantic id tries to re-possess the object of its desire, whereas the ego or superego is able to set that desire aside, whether or not it wants to. More obviously, Spike in “Lovers Walk” parallels all of the other characters and their romantic situations. All of them are behaving somewhat selfishly or self-destructively in their love lives (Xander and Willow cheating, Buffy and Angel torturing themselves with friendship) but are in denial about the fact that they’re doing so. And then Spike blazes in with his version of love that is selfish, scary, grandiose, charming, pathetic, genuine, and absurd by turns—and suddenly, everyone’s romantic weaknesses are out in the open. It makes perfect sense that Spike finishes the episode gleeful and optimistic, because “Lovers Walk” as a whole represents a triumph of the romantic id over the romantic ego, if only temporarily. And it’s all handled with a brilliantly whiplash-y mix of comedy and tragedy because at the end of the day, the power of the romantic id really is ridiculous. The way that Spike turns on a dime between being scary and pathetic parallels the way it’s at once absurd, and kind of frightening, that your id would make you, say: cheat on your wonderful high school boyfriend, just to have a chance with your childhood crush.
Because Spike is often treated as the show’s romantic id, the writing’s relationship to his romanticism gets complicated. Like Angel, there is something romantic in his aesthetic and behavior, even if he doesn’t look like Angel’s conventional Byronic hero. He wears a long, dramatic coat, poses rebelliously with his cigarettes, and dotes on his paramour with the elaborate attentiveness of Gomez Addams. But unlike Angel, he is not just a romantic symbol or object, he is also a romantic subject. That is to say, Spike’s romantic storylines tend to emphasize his romantic desires, and use those desires as motivation. By contrast, Angel’s storylines don’t really have much to do with whether he’s “gotten” Buffy or not—instead they have to do with whether Buffy has gotten him. The fact that Buffy and Spike are both treated as romantic agents in this way is a key indication that the two characters are meant to parallel each other. Angel’s side of the Buffy/Angel romantic storyline has to do with whether he can control himself around Buffy, whereas Buffy’s has to do with whether he likes her or wants to be with her. Similarly, Spike’s romantic storylines hinge on the status of whether Drusilla or Buffy want him.
Not only is Spike a subject when it comes to romantic relationships, he’s also a subject when it comes to Romantic thinking. He is a character practically defined by his romanticism. He aspires to romantic things, and therefore can be used to poke at romantic outlooks. Despite his grand love for Drusilla for instance, she still cheats on him, and he still has to knock her out, do a love spell, or torture her to get her back. Or he’ll make grand pronouncements that are immediately followed by things like getting tasered by the Initiative or falling into an open grave. Because of this, Spike is able to parallel Buffy’s Romantic thinking as well, not just her romantic desires. Notice how in “The Freshman”, when Buffy is feeling out of touch with her Romantic Slayer self, that she has a scene where she’s treated like Spike--she delivers a dramatic threat and then falls through a ceiling. Or in “Some Assembly Required” when she obeys her id and hotly demands that Angel listen to her, she falls into an open grave. This kind of comedy has a lot in common with the deadpan Angel humor discussed in the last section, but notice that the target of that humor is Angel’s romantic objecthood rather than an outlook Angel has. Angel’s role, when it comes to romanticism, has to do with how Buffy and the audience sees him, whereas Spike’s role (at least in the early seasons) has to do with how Spike sees, period.
The show doesn’t just poke at Spike’s outlook though, it also uses him to poke at other people’s romanticism. In season two, for example, Spike is the one who gets impatient with Angel’s grandstanding, sarcastically explaining that “we do still kill people, you know” and “it’s a big rock.” In “Lovers Walk” he’s the one who cuts through Buffy and Angel’s drama, reducing it to “googly eyes” with a dismissive handwave (while also building it up in his projection-y “you’ll never be friends” speech). In “Something Blue” he points out that Willow is barely holding it together. In “Pangs” he’s the one who brings the debate over the Chumash nihilistically back down to earth, and in “The Yoko Factor” he schools Adam on Yoko not really splitting the Beatles apart. In other words, Spike attempts to see both the romance and the reality of things. He is the avatar of both, which I would argue makes complete sense, because in many ways romance and reality are really two sides of the same coin. Poetry and stories are fake and bigger than life, but you use them to tell truths. But being the id, his point of view can be hypocritical and biased as much as insightful, just like anyone’s gut reactions and poetic notions can be. After all, you can use poetry to tell lies, too.
Lastly, on a meta level, there is a tackiness to Spike that undermines his romantic qualities better than making him dangerous ever could. Spike likes Passions and Dawson’s Creek (in contrast to Angel reading La Nausée by firelight). He lives in a crypt, but the vibe is more “homeless” than “Dracula” (in contrast to Angel’s tastefully decorated apartment). Spike may act like a romantic, but what does it say about how romantic romanticism really is, that the romantic things he likes can be so unrefined? And with the chip, he’s rendered impotent and pathetic. To me, there’s no more perfect image of how the writing uses Spike than the image of him in his black coat, red shirt, and big, leather boots, blasted under the fluorescent light of his Initiative cell. Light that makes his aesthetic seem suddenly fake and silly and surreal. For all that the writing subverts Angel, he is still the kind of character who gets to disappear mysteriously into the shadows, because he is the romance that Buffy has been forced to abandon. Whereas Spike is left with no place to hide.
If Angel represented the idea of binaries, then Spike represents the lack of them. There is a reason that Spike invites so many queer readings. He is a vampire, but he loves. He is an object, but he’s a subject. He tells the truth, but he lies. He is a villain, but he is a hero. He is masculine, but he is feminine. He is insightful, but he’s a fool. He is pathetic, but he is sympathetic. He is on the outside of the Scoobies, but he is on the inside. These aspects of him are not split between different personas, but exist within him simultaneously. It is telling that the show introduces human, mythos-bending vampires like Spike and Dru in a season about disillusionment, and it is telling that Spike’s role in the show becomes ascendant in the seasons after Buffy leaves Angel and his split personality behind. As Buffy begins to reckon more deeply with her id, and her dualities, she will begin to reckon with Spike.
part 3: “Something effulgent”: Season five and the construction of Spike the romantic
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Hello! I love your blog! I want to ask if you can make a story of Raiden having sexual tension with his ex wife? Like she watches him train shirtless or something 😂 (I’m just thirsty for Raiden tbh)
Thundering rain
Raiden x Ex wife Reader
Ohhh my goodness! You are my first request! Thanks so much! I actually read this at 1am last night when you sent it and I was so excited! Oh and quick warning, this does get a bit steamy at the end, no smut though, but of course if anybody wanted a part 2...
The clouds defended from the sun, leaving no light down onto the Sky temple. A large stone balcony below was illuminated by a couple hundred candles. Behind one of the many pillars surrounding the training area, was a woman. She wore sleeveless, black robes, two metal rings were on each of her upper arms. Her scowl seemed permanent as she watched a man on the balcony.
Soft grunts filled air as the thunder god struck the invisible foe. He kicked and punched gracefully, never once becoming distracted by his surroundings. His hat rested on a crate nearby, his vest lay right next to it. The gods long silver locks flowed gently in the wind, the silk top of his robe peeled down, revealing his chest.
S/o growled silently to herself, nails clicking against the wall as sudden voices came from the halls behind her.
“She’s back!? Again?” A male said in a slightly rude tone.
“Yes, I suggest we tread lightly, she looked as if she wanted to eat me alive when I glanced at her.” A more respectful voice answered.
“Poor Raiden, marrying that woman was probably the worst decision of his li- ahh!” The monk was cut off as they turned the corner to find an extremely pissed off immortal woman seething at them.
The two men quickly turned the other way, their pace almost a run. “Kung Lao, Liu Kang!”
They both froze, glancing at each other before cautiously approaching S/o. She crossed her arms, eyes going from one monk to the other. “Hello boys. Good to see you again.” Her glare made her polite tone unbelievable.
The two monks looked at each other before both respectfully bowing, “S/o it’s… unexpected to see you here again, do you have business with the thunder god?” Liu Kang asked.
“I don’t need to have a gods damn reason to be here!” She snapped. “I was here when this cursed place was built and I’ll be here long after.”
“So you’re just here, on your own free will, just to watch Raiden train on the top balcony?” Liu Kang asked, careful not to come across as sarcastic.
“Shirtless?” Kung Lao added.
“I’m here because I enjoy the scenery!” The immortal growled. The monks analyzed the area around them, the dark sky painting over the sun, a sudden burst of lightning lashing out. Rain pouring and whipping at the backs of anybody who dared to emerge from the safety of the tower.
“Yes… it’s very nice…” Kung Lao said. “But I’m afraid we must get going, we have uh… business to discuss with the thunder god!” Tipping his hat, he grabbed the chosen one and bolted out of s/o’s sight, making a Beeline to the silver haired god.
“Lord Raiden!” Liu Kang started, earning the gods attention.
“Your scary ex wife is back.” Kung Lao announced. Raiden looked up, gaze meeting S/o’s briefly before she looked away. “I’m pretty sure she’s here to kill you.”
“I see, how long has she been there?” He sighed, brushing his hair out of his face.
“Well I first saw her a couple of hours ago climbing up the stairs, she was on the… 367th floor at the time I believe?” Liu Kang answered, his face strained trying to remember.
“Thank you, I must go speak with her now.” And with that, he started to walk over to the borderline feral woman.
“May Neatherealm have mercy on his soul.” Kung Lao mumbled as they both watched the god halt next to the immortal.
“S/o? Is everything alright?” He asked carefully. Blood krept onto the woman’s face as she quickly turned her head.
“Ya. I’m fine.” She answered quickly.
“Why are you here? Surely you have better things to do then scare the monks?” He prompted. S/o blinked and glanced over as his shirtless form. His body was certainly toned and muscled, the rain dripped down his body, tracing each crevice and adding an overall exaggeration of the man's body. “S/o?”
His voice brought her back to reality. She quickly thought, her and her ex husband had rarely had any civil conversations since they left, this was… refreshing. “I… I came back for my… crown.”
He tilted his head, confused, eyes at full attention. S/o felt a maddening blush overtake her, damn his rare, innocent expressions. “You know! That old golden one, with the glowing gems, it covers my forehead and curves down to my cheeks? Looked like a conquerors helm? I used to wear it with my armor?”
Recognition filled his glowing eyes as he nodded, “Oh yes, I remember. Do you… plan on wearing it?” He asked carefully.
S/o wanted to slap herself for picking the crown as her excuse. The crown was gifted to her by some ancient king of a realm conquered by Shao Kahn long ago. It was given to her after her wedding with Raiden, a symbol of her status as his wife. It also granted her great strength, yes she would use that as an excuse.
“Well obviously.” She snapped. “I plan on… participating in the mortal Kombat tournament.” She finished awkwardly. Raiden raised a brow.
“What do you have to gain from it? You are already an immortal s/o. Besides, what realm would you represent?” He asked.
“I- I, I don’t need to explain myself to you Raiden! Just take me to your damn room so I can grab it.” She angrily stuttered. Raiden grimaced but started to make his way to his things on the crate, the flexing of his back muscles quickly made s/o grab him. He turned, his gaze questioning. “By the elder gods, just teleport us really quick, no need to stop what you’re doing!”
“Very well then.” With a sudden flash, they were both standing in a clearly abandoned room. Dust has settled on their bed, candles were blown out and all of her things looked untouched. She blinked in surprise.
“You… haven’t used this room since I left?” She asked, her questioning gaze landing on the god.
He frowned. “Gods don’t need sleep, I only chose to sleep because you were beside me. Without you, this room is meaningless to me.” Something about that sentence stabbed through her heart as she quickly turned the other direction.
“Let’s just… get the crown so you don’t have to see me again.” She mumbled, opening her dresser drawers.
“Why would you think I wouldn’t want to see you again?” He inquired, walking over to her, strong, soaked muscles shining in the window light. Fuck, no no no.
“I was the one who left, figured you would hold it to me.” She answered quietly.
Guilt clouded his eyes, he halted behind her “we both were at blame. I’m sorry if I ever made you think it was purely you at fault.”
S/o huffed, “oh so I suppose we are just supposed to kiss and make up now?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
“I would not be opposed to that.” He stated simply. S/o felt her eyes widening, she turned around only to see Raiden, still without a fucking shirt, giving her an expectant look.
He couldn’t really expect this to work? Just kiss and say sorry and BAM marriage fixed! But then again they never necessarily got a divorce, they simply mutually agreed to stay the hell away from each other- fuck why was she overthinking this?
A fucking shirtless GOD was before her, asking her for a kiss. The answer shouldn’t have even taken a second.
Without a warning she grabbed him, slamming him against one of the tall bed post and placed her lips on his. He was definitely startled by the sudden movement but he returned the kiss anyway.
S/o leaned forward on him, hands finding his wrist and pinning them. She wicked onto his lower lip, biting it slightly. The god groaned, opening his mouth, giving her the perfect opportunity to claim it. There was no battle for dominance, only simple sweet submissiveness.
Sliding her body downwards, she left his still gasping lips, going down until her mouth met his neck. She mouthed his throat all over, nipping at all of his sweet spots that she had spent thousands of years memorizing. Each one granted a new sound of pure desperation.
Finally she pulled away, releasing Raiden from her hold. She took a moment to look at her work. Raiden leaned against the post, panting, his hair messy, his lip bleeding and small dark marks beginning to form on his throat.
Yes, this was going to be a very long night indeed.
Part 2
#mortal kombat#mortal kombat x reader#raiden x reader#raiden#kung lao#fem s/o#sky temple#request#liu kang
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Unholy Matrimony Pt. 5 (Nessian)
Damnation Series
Parts 1 / 2 / 3 / 4
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~Cassian~
A week later, I’m exceptionally proud to say I haven’t given in yet. No matter how much I want to.
Tensions the past seven days have been... high, to say the least.
Both of us are doing our absolute best to drive the other insane.
She’s doing it so I either sign the deed and give in or turn to someone else, both which would give her Sera back.
I’m doing it because if I have to suffer, she can bet her pretty ass she does, too.
Ironically, tonight’s our engagement party. A celebration of our undying love and an announcement to the world the Russians and Italians of New York should no longer hate and murder each other.
They’re allowed to be sexually frustrated as hell, but no, they can’t kill each other.
I’m waiting for the little minx who’s spent the week making me regret ever even asking for the club, drinking bourbon so I’m too drunk to even be tempted by her--which is likely enough to kill me--when she finally deigns to grace me with her presence.
I take one look at her, starting at the high blonde ponytail that would wrap around my fist at least twice and ending at the very high, very red shoes I immediately want by my shoulders.
“Fuck.”
Obviously the reaction she was looking for, she smiles.
Her dress is a cream color thing that clings to her curves and is short enough to showcase her long legs. It’s somehow classy, while low enough to draw my eyes to her breasts as she comes down the stairs towards me.
Nesta stops right before me, close enough I smell the jasmine and vanilla of her skin, and looks at me through her lashes.
I turn my gaze to the ceiling, vowing to keep it there until I trust myself to not do something stupid like tell her she’s the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen.
“I’m so fucked,” I mutter hopelessly.
If possible, she comes closer, sliding all the interesting, female parts of her against me. “You would be if you just gave me back my shit.”
I glare down at her. “I don’t like to lose.”
“Would you really be losing?”
I keep my mouth shut, because the answer to that question is a big fat no. God, she’s good.
“Tell me again why you refuse to put us out of our misery?” I ask in return, trying to remind myself who the fuck I am.
Even though I wonder if it is our misery. I can’t read her, can’t tell if this is affecting her like it is me.
She gives me a cold look. “What do you see happening after we get married, exactly? You think you’ll work a few hours at the club I spent three years building from the ground up, come home and eat a home cooked meal, then fuck your complacent little wife however you want?”
I have no idea what to say, because when she puts it like that, I sound like the biggest douche in the world.
Nesta sees the hesitation in my eyes and rolls hers. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I allow you to disrespect me like that, stronzo.”
“I respect you,” I say immediately, meaning the words.
“Just not enough to value my career.”
“Nesta-”
“Deal with it. If you somehow keep the board from voting you out in the next two weeks and manage to not sleep with me--which is unlikely, considering the way you look at me--the club will be yours.” She takes a step back, steeling her spin. “But I will not.”
I’m conflicted as hell, torn between wondering if she’s just playing me or being sincere.
Apparently done with the verbal smackdown, Nesta spins towards the door.
Hand on the handle, she turns back around and cocks her head. And then she answers the questions I hadn’t realized I’d been too scared to ask.
“No and yes.”
My brows raise. “What?”
“No, it hasn’t all been just me trying to mess with you. Yes, I want you as much as you want me. But I respect myself too much to allow someone who blazes into my life and steals something from me without a care or even a real negotiation to have my body, too.”
She walks out the door, leaving me standing in the living room stunned.
I eventually follower her down to the garage and we leave for the party Rhys is hosting for us downtown. But even though I go through the motions once we arrive, my mind is on the woman next to me the entire night.
I hate admitting it, but she’s right.
I took something that belonged to her, didn’t even question talking to her first, then acted like she was in the wrong for doing whatever she could to get it back.
I’ve said I like how strong and independent she is, but I tried to take that independence and turn her into something else. I bulldozed my way into her life, then acted like I was the one inconvenienced by it.
And seriously, why am I even fighting for this place? Yeah, I like it and think it’s unique, but the place is above board. Which to me translates as boring.
The past two weeks, I’ve had to go to investment meetings, deal with sending out the nightly invitations for entrance, and plan events for upcoming holidays. Things I never do with my other properties.
I hate managing things--I hire people to do that kind of thing for me. But I know I can’t hire someone, because who the hell besides my fiancé would do the job right?
No one.
I realize that on the drive home, and it gets me thinking. By the time we’re inside the apartment, I’m already mentally finalizing the details.
I tell her I have to take care of something, go to my office, and close the door.
Then I pull up the marriage contract, along with the deed to Sera, and hit print.
~Nesta~
A week after our engagement party, I realized I’ve started to lose hope.
Cassian’s managed to wrangle or bribe or threaten the board into not voting him out, and the employees have stopped calling me to ask when I’m coming back. He hasn’t touched me or tried to seduce me in six days--probably a record for him--and I start to feel like I’ve lost.
My club will be his in a week, and after we’re married, only him signing the deed over will get it back. Something that will never happen, considering it’d be a serious hit to his pride to do something as weak as give me what’s rightfully mine.
My club will be his, but like I said, I won’t.
Which honestly is just as upsetting.
Even though he’s a stubborn, boneheaded stronzo with a big enough ego for us both, it’s hard for me to overlook the moments of the past three weeks that haven’t revolved around Sera.
Little moments that have made it harder for me to pull away from him.
He’s made me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever met, whether with his foul sense of humor or stories about his violent, wild childhood. He stopped leaving the toilet seat up when I pointed it out. He hasn’t said a word about me ordering take-out all the time or working in bed while he tries to sleep.
He even dealt with one of Alexei’s buyers for me when they tried to renegotiate the price originally agreed upon.
And he hasn’t really pressed the celibacy thing. Sure, he’s complained about it enough for me to want to smack him, but I don’t know any other Made Men, Russian or Italian, that would’ve respected my wish after how much I’ve teased him.
If he would just-
I cut that train of thought off and focus on the report in front of me, because at this point, it’s obvious he won’t.
I sip my wine, which is starting to grow on me, and look over shipment records from one of Alexei’s yards, flagging crates that need to be smuggled instead of brought in through the main channels. Repressing a groan at the thought, I realize I’ll have to go down one night this week and make sure they arrive without problem.
I take another long pull from my glass.
“Drinking to forget?” Cassian asks, leaning in the doorway of the bedroom and looking me over.
I shrug, not much in the mood for banter.
“I got you something.”
Sighing, I reply, “Yeah, me too. It’s on the nightstand.”
His brow furrows as he walks over and picks up the ring box, opening it to look at the titanium band inside.
Just another symbol of our lifelong, happy, sexless marriage.
He puts the ring back in the box and extends a hand. “It isn’t a ring.”
“What is it?”
“Get your ass out of bed and find out.”
I would, except I don’t want to. And I don’t really want whatever stupid, materialistic thing he’s bought me-
He closes my laptop and pulls the cover back, ducking when I swing a fist towards his head. “Violent little wolf,” he teases.
“Stop calling me that,” I demand, trying in vain to keep the blanket on me so he can’t tell I’m not wearing anything underneath the t-shirt I stole from him.
He pauses, sighs, and scoops me up, blanket and all. “I love watching you fight how much you love me calling you that.”
“I don’t have to fight anything except he overwhelming urge to smack you.”
Cassian just huffs, walking us out of the room, through the living room, and into his office. Then he puts me down, smacks my butt to get me moving, and grunts when I elbow him in the ribs.
“Maybe this will fix your bad mood,” he mutters, flipping the light switch on and bathing the office in golden light.
I take an involuntary step forward, eyebrows going high on my forehead.
I’ve only been in here once before, just long enough to notice the obnoxiously big desk and wall of windows behind it. I’d taken in the black leather couch and wing-backed chairs, determined it was a typical male office for a typical male, and vowed to work somewhere else.
But that was a while ago, and it’s obvious he’s done some home improvement.
There are decidedly now two desks in the corners near the windows, angled in to the middle of the room where two cream-colored leather chairs sit. The desks are identical, mahogany and classic without being ostentatious.
A rug covers the hardwood floors, a deep maroon color that matches small details throughout the room.
It’s beautiful.
Cassian leads me with his hands on my shoulders to one of the desks, and I let him guide me around to the chair and push me down in the soft leather.
I look up to ask him what this is about, but he jerks his chin to the desk where to two papers lie.
One is the deed to Sera.
A rush of surprise goes through me as I see he’s transferred the building back over to me, even going so far as to deem the process irreversible. It’s signed and dated a week ago, the night of our engagement party.
My eyes are shiny as I look at the other document and read through it.
“What is this?”
“A partnership, of sorts,” Cassian explains, leaning a hip on the- my desk like he did in his Capo’s office. “You’re now a partner at my businesses, and if you sign, I’ll be yours.”
My eyes find his, and I see that he’s serious but still choke out, “What?”
He smiles and shrugs, like signing over half of your life’s work is easy. “You had me pegged when you first saw me and figured out I’m a fighter. I hate everything about running a business except the in-person negotiating and knitty gritty shit. It’s boring to me, and while I can do it, I’m not nearly as good at it as you are.”
“Cassian-”
“So run them both. I’ll do the day to day shit I know you hate, and you’ll do the rest.”
I can’t hardly process what he’s saying.
“What if we disagree?” It’s a valid question, considering we’ve basically been fighting the entire time we’ve been engaged.
“We talk about it and try to figure it out. And if we can’t, the original owner has the final call and veto power in all situations.” His eyes say he knows how important it is to me as he says, “You’ll still be in control of your property, and I’ll still be in control of mine.”
I don’t know why I’m still asking questions, because it sounds great, but there’s one more thing I want to know.
“Why?”
He sighs, sitting on the desk fully and looking down at me with open, honest eyes. “Because I’m tired of doing this shit alone. I’m tired of going to work and dealing with every single thing and then coming home and having no one who understands.”
He looks out the window, shoulders tight. “I thought you’d be like my friends’ wives, which is why I was such an ass. I thought you’d be just another thing for me to take care of, and I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to realize you could be my partner, not just my wife.”
His eyes are back on mine, the heat in them making my heart pound. “I’m sorry, Nesta. I’m sorry I stole Sera in the first place, then refused to hear you out and give it back. I have a tendency to be a little stubborn.”
My lips twitch, and his eyes soften at the sight.
“But what you said about respecting yourself stuck. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t respect you, because I do. You’re smarter than me, cool when I’m rash, and have the mind for business I never have.” He smiles softly. “I know you’re just as alone as me, and just as tired of it. So say yes.”
I feel a smile on my face as I get to my feet, moving to stand between his thighs. “Are you just doing this so I’ll sleep with you?”
He sighs, dropping his head in shame to rest against my chest. “You caught me.”
My arms wrap around his shoulders, his going around my waist, and I use the opportunity to play in his hair. It’s so soft and curly, and he makes a content sound as I run my hands through it.
“Are you saying yes, little wolf?” he murmurs against my collarbone, dropping his head to rub his face across my breasts.
I roll and tug his hair to keep the randy bastard away. “Yes, pervert, I’m saying yes.”
Cassian smiles a big, goofy smile so ridiculously charming I lean in and kiss him.
His hands lock at my waist, resting on the curve of my back, and for a moment, he just lets me kiss him.
It isn’t our first kiss by any means, but it’s the first one where neither of us have ulterior motives, so I take my time.
I kiss his top lip, his bottom lip. Find I like them both equally.
My hands work across his shoulders, the thick muscles contracting under my hands, and I sigh his name.
Cassian’s hands fist in the fabric of my pajamas--which happen to still be his shirt--and draws me closer. He kisses my neck, inhaling deeply.
“You smell so fucking good,” he mutters, biting down softly and making me gasp. “It drives me crazy.”
His hands slip to the back of my thighs, then I’m on his lap, knees on the desk next to his hips. “You drive me crazy,” he clarifies.
He kisses me again, hands sliding up my thighs to my ass to grind me against him. Callouses scrape against my skin as he sweeps the shirt off and tosses it behind me.
“Shit,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to take me in.
The fact that he’s still fully dressed while I’m in nothing but my underwear makes me feel even more exposed, doing strange things to my mind. I start unbuttoning his shirt while he kisses down my chest.
He teases one with his hand while he takes the other in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the peak. I squirm, pressing my hips more fully against is, but he holds me still, kissing and teasing me until I can’t take it anymore.
“Cassian,” I murmur, tugging his hair to pull his gaze to mine. “Thank you for the desk. I love it.”
His brows furrow, and I can see him start to think about how much I’ve teased him, but before he can worry that’s what I’m doing, I whisper, “Now fuck me on it. Please.”
A muscle in his jaw flickers, and his fingers dig into the flesh of my hips.
Before I can say another word, he stands and spins us around, sliding me on the desk. He holds my thighs around his hips, and then an idea seems to dawn.
“Wait right here.”
“Seriously?” I ask, even though he’s already half-way out of the room.
“Don’t you dare fucking move!” is the shouted response.
I roll my eyes, but he’s back quickly, holding the red stilettos I wore to our engagement party. I howl with laughter, and a faint blush colors his cheeks, but he stays firm in his desire and puts them on the floor beside my feet.
Then he leans against the window and watches while I slip them on.
His golden eyes blaze as I lean back on my elbows and slowly spread my thighs, in nothing but lace panties and heels.
“I’ll buy you all the desks you want, if you sit on them like that.”
Laughter bubbles out of me, and he’s suddenly on me, leaning over me to kiss me in a frenzy.
I rip his shirt open, and he doesn’t even break the kiss as he throws it to the floor. I hear the telltale clink of a belt, and then he stands up to slide my panties down, grab my legs, and guide them up.
I feel him brush over the center of me, instinctively lifting my hips to give him a better angle.
But he doesn’t give me what I want.
Cassian just stands there, gaze gliding from the hells on his shoulders to the apex of my thighs.
“Hold that thought,” he mutters, dropping to his knees and putting his mouth on me before I can even blink.
My back leaves the desk, a gasp escaping me.
“Cassian.”
“I want you to come on my tongue, then you get to come on my cock.”
“Cassian.”
He hums, the sensation sending shivers down my spin. He kisses me like he’s doing it for him, not me, mouth on every part of me it can reach.
I can see the lines of his tattoos on his shoulders, the top of his curly hair. It’s too much to handle, so I just lay back down on the desk and throw my hands above my head to hold on to the edge of the desk.
The only time he stops is to tell me things that apparently can’t wait five minutes, but I don’t even care because every word out of that sinful mouth makes me burn hotter.
“Come for me,” he demands breathlessly a few minutes later.
“Don’t boss me around,” I groan, even as I do exactly what he wants.
He lets me ride it out, dropping kisses to my thighs and stomach and hips.
As soon as I catch my breath, he’s on his feet, putting me in the exact position I was in earlier.
And then he’s pushing inside me, and I honestly almost come again from the feel alone. “Thank God,” I groan, the past three reminding me of the misery teasing him put me through.
“Fucking hell, you’re perfect.”
Hands on my thighs, he holds me in place as he starts to move. But as he picks up speed, going harder with each thrust, his hands have to slip to my thighs to keep me still.
I say his name, sounding like I’m begging him for something, and he groans. His head’s thrown back, bare skin shining and making him look likesome sort of beautiful devil.
“Hurry up, little wolf,” he almost pleads.
The sound of that stupid fucking nickname does me in, and I come with a loud moan. I would’ve kicked him in the head if he hadn’t immediately dropped down on top of me to kiss me without abandon.
His hips still but he keeps kissing me until he has to break for air.
I’m boneless and limp beneath him, and he looks me over with male satisfaction.
Then his mouth drops open, betrayal in his eyes, and he says, “I just realized you didn’t speak even French! All these weeks of me fucking fantasizing about that... well, I guess we’ll just have to do it again.”
“Accorde moi un instant,” I pant in French, asking for a moment.
He grins down at me. “Take your time. We have a lifetime.”
My lips twitch, and I don’t stifle the urge to smile.
I’m about to say something, but then his expression turns serious. “You realize I have to fuck you on my desk now. Equality and whatnot.”
I laugh and pull his mouth to mine. “As long as you know I’m still not giving you my side of the bed.”
He tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth. “We can share.”
~
We get married seven days later, surrounded by a crowd of family, dirty politicians, thieves, drug and arms dealers, and friends.
In the past week, we’ve solidified our business model to a thing of perfection. I handle public relations, real estate and development, and negotiations for the shipping business. Cassian handles both the Bratva and Cosa Nostra soldiers in New York, training new recruits, drug distribution, and negotiations for the arms business.
Basically, I do what I’m good at, and he does what he’s good at.
I know it’s ridiculous to trust someone with half my business after only a month of knowing them, but like Cassian said, I was tired of doing this shit alone.
I’d been dreading the future, dreading taking over and doing everything myself. And now I don’t have to.
I have him to lean on, him to trust.
Looking up, I notice him watching me as we dance, not at all paying attention to the crowd. “What are you thinking about, little wolf?”
“I’m thinking how I thought of this marriage as nothing but an alliance at first. I guess it still is that, but... it’s also more.” He spins us around to the music, watching me with a knowing expression. “You’re more to me than that. And I’m... I’m happy. Working with you and the thought of our future makes me happy.”
He smiles.
“You love me,” he states with quiet confidence.
My heart starts pounding, because I’ve never told a living person that before.
But it’s never been true before, and it is now, so I respond steadily, “I do.”
“I love you, too, Nesta Orlov. Have since the moment I saw you.” He sounds so relaxed about it, the words falling from his lips so easily.
“Doesn’t it scare you?” I ask, not understanding how he’s the calm one all of a sudden.
“Anything you love something, there’s the risk you could lose it or it could hurt you.” Cassian brushes a thumb over my cheek. “But I could never be scared to love you.”
I shake my head and start to say something, but he cuts me off.
“Every morning, when you wake up, there’s this little moment where you look around, confused. And then you look at me, and that hesitation in your eyes just... melts.” He dips me, wrapping his arms tight around me. “You look at me like you trust me, and love me, and want me.”
He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “That look is worth every risk and hardship and whatever else loving someone entails.”
I kiss him back as he brings us to standing. “Italians are such saps.”
He shows off the smile I’ve realized he only gives me, and I say the words I know he needs to hear just as badly as I did. “I love you, Cassian. You’re worth the risk, too.”
______________________________________________________
THANK U FOR READINGGG soft ending for the win
#nessian#nessian fanfiction#acotar#acosf#acowar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fanfiction#nessian archeron
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My thoughts on Episode 3--Hunted.
Most of you lovelies already realize this, but my thoughts tend to zig and zag quite a bit, lol. So. To save some of you the headache and spare you from seeing spoilers you’d rather not see yet, I’m again placing them behind a cut.
First things first. I have totally turned into Yvette Nicole Brown with her TWD notebooks, lol, and I’m not even sorry. I just felt like it would be fun to go back when the final episode is in the books and see how well my thoughts from these early episodes line up with what I’m feeling when we say our (not-so) final goodbyes.
But that’s enough about that. Let’s get to this thing.
It really is insane how very much I love Melissa McBride. Just hearing her doing the previously on TWD recap voiceover makes me ridiculously happy.
Cole! Dude! We hardly knew ya.
Not gonna lie. That first shot of Maggie in all the chaos reminded of a shirt I’ve seen. It says--”Well, well, well. If it isn’t the consequences of my actions.”
I have to hand it to Angela and the rest of her team. These opening scenes--on all 3 episodes--have been BOMB so far. They really hook you in right away. At least IMHO.
I realize I’m behind the game on this little tidbit, but how much do I adore the fact that Dog is now in the opening credits?
Okay. Alexandria might look like it’s been on some kind of post-apocalyptic bender but all our girls are looking beautiful as ever. Maybe it’s Maybelline, lol.
I love to see Kelly and Carol still gravitating toward each other. It really speaks to each woman’s heart. Carol wants to make amends so badly and Kelly just has the most lovely, warm, forgiving heart.
Carol’s point about Alexandria still needing the horses to help with the heavy lifting and pointing out the walls and rebuilding won’t matter quite as much if they’re limited by their hunger and what they can physically lift on their own isn’t wrong. But I’m sure the same viewers that were okay with Daryl and Co. going out on Maggie’s suicide mission (using the same reasoning) and saying it made sense for the bigger picture will pretend not to recognize that the same element is there in Carol’s desire to go out there and look for the horses. You know. Because it was Carol’s idea and not that of their fave(s).
Aaron, Man. Or maybe I should say Angela. You just had to put a pit of dread in my belly mentioning Buttons like that. RIP, Buttons. You deserved better. I’m still traumatized.
Look at all the babies bonding. Look at RJ getting to sit at the big kid table.
“My mom always comes back.” She damn well better. Those babies need her. Until she does, though, Uncle Daryl and Aunt Carol (and Aunt Rosita and everybody else) are going to be there.
Anyway. Poor RJ. He barely ever gets any lines, lol.
Hershel and Judith are obviously the mini-adults in this group and baby Rhee is already more cynical and jaded than his sweet daddy was until they reached Alexandria and the wheels started to come off.
So. Does Maggie just think everybody’s already dead here or what? Hmm.
You know. Any building can be creepy AF when the lights are off and it’s dark, lol. Any building.
So much darkness so far this season. I’m going to have to invest in some blackout curtains. I just know it.
Where are all those stairs leading? Why am I thinking of Hitchcock? Am I mixing up my scary, suspenseful movies? Probably.
Of fucking course, Maggie dropped her flashlight. Thank goodness she had that lighter at the ready just before Ghost Face Reaper took a swipe at her.
Is that Father G with a screwdriver impaled in his thigh? Listen. These people deserve a Mega Bottle of pain killers and a week just vegging out in a soft, luxurious bed.
All these horror movie tropes. Some of them are cheesy, yes. But I’m totally here for it.
LMAO. That’s it, Maggie. A good old punch in the nuts works every time.
Alden really is having a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.
Negan is still Negan. Self-serving and looking out for number one. But I believe the man really does feel the group is his group too. He’s like that long lost, sketchy uncle nobody wants to acknowledge much less invite to the dinner table, but that bond? However thin? Is there.
I am both hating that Maggie is being forced to work with the man that murdered her husband (my baby Glenn) and finding it fascinating the lengths she’s willing to go to survive. This your plan, Angela?
Rosita and Carol! How sad is it that the last really significant scene I can remember the two of these women sharing was way back? Before Rick and Co. attacked Negan’s outpost and Maggie and Carol were subsequently taken? If only the show had done more of these kind of scenes.
How much do I love all the girls working together? Gimps would never. They’d all be stuck back at Alexandria minding the kids and the community.
Shallow aside--Rosita is so pretty in this scene.
Rosita being worried about Carol honestly makes my heart hurt, because it’s about damn time more of them actually did. Her saying Abraham is trying to tell her something in her dreams is interesting. Angela sure loves her dreams, doesn’t she?
Where are Daryl’s dreams, hmm? No. Seriously. I guess they want to give some viewers plausible deniability until the bitter end.
“Really? We’re just gonna go toward the screaming? Cool.” Hahaha. You know. Even the smart people in horror movies sometimes bite it, Negan. Just saying. Maggie really does need to “stop running up the staircase” when she could just run out the front door though, lol.
Poor Duncan. I think you could have been another Tyreese, Jerry type for me.
WTF does this show have against horses? Those poor creatures.
Kelly is totally me right now. I’d be freaking inconsolable.
Carol needed that hug. Thank you, Magna. From the bottom of this tired fangirl’s heart, thank you.
Why give us that beautiful, golden shot with the horses when you’re planning to stab us through the heart later and twist the knife. Oh. Yeah. That’s exactly why.
Oh snap! Father G’s delivery when he tells that Reaper “I’m not. God isn’t here anymore.” Cold as ice.
Judas. That the Reapers’ work. Or. Damn. Either way, that’s harsh.
Back to what Alden was saying. All these oprhaned children. Who’s going to take on Adam if he dies? That poor kid has had a rough go of it. Knowing that, makes you wonder what Alden was thinking volunteering for the suicide mission.
Omigosh. There went Agatha. Terrible way to go. Right, Beatrice?
I’m sobbing. Carol with the horse. That hurt my baby so much but she hurt herself for her family the same way she has been doing since the Prison. Melissa Mcbride? When she cries, I cry. Every effin’ time. Aaron being there just made it hurt more. But at least someone was there to see how and really take in how she continues to break pieces of herself off to keep her family as whole and safe and happy as she can.
Rewinding a minute--that Magna and Carol conversation. I get Magna’s reasoning too. I do. But Angela is just making everything so dire right now so that the sun when Connie is ultimate found shines a ltitle brighter.
Those babies know they’re eating horse. I could never.
That’s got to be a different Coco. She’s even smaller. But she’s gorgeous.
Fucking finally. Angela having the other characters notice after an eternity of being blind to it, just how much Carol sacrifices of herself for them. It’s so long overdue and I imagine Rosita’s even more worried for Carol now. It’s a shame it’s taken 11 seasons. My baby’s had blood on her hands trying to keep her family safe and whole and happy and fed for a long damn time. So heartbreaking watching her try to scrub the blood away.
Sweet, sweet hug that Kelly gave Magna. She’s such a sweetheart kid sis to all of them, isn’t she?
Interesting place of refuge. A gutted church. A visual symbol, Angela, of where Maggie and the rest of our people are now perhaps?
“It’s easy for you, isn’t it? Being reckless with sombody’s life...” Maggie. Maggie. Those words would have hit so much harder if we hadn’t spent the majority of the last 2.5 episodes watching you ignore sound advice just because it came out of the mouth of somebody you (justifiably) hate.
But will Alden be there when Maggie and Negan get back? That is the question. Or will he eventually Lucille himself?
That little bit of lineup Negan music to remind the audience of Negan lovers and sympathizers that he once took great pleasure in murderously swinging a bag at people’s heads was a nice, subtle touch there. Like agree with her or not, Maggie is literally left to rely on the hope, however small it is, that Negan has changed just enough that he won’t try to finish a job he taken on years before--killing what’s left of her.
Oh lawd. Next episode sees the return of a character literally nobody asked for. How excited am I not?
Dog better not be harmed or so help me.
Now for Angela’s weekly explanations of WTF she/there were thinking because they been doing this plausible deniability thing so long some people out there watching with biased, muddy stan glasses can no longer separate head canon from canon.
Is Maggie worried at all about Daryl or does she just assume his superhero powers are in full effect in this episode?
“You can’t really say it wasn’t going to happen anyway.” Not Angela pointing out that simply laying the blame for literally everything bad that ever happens at Carol’s feet isn’t the answer. Say it louder for those in the back. Alpha was going to do what Alpha wanted to do.
“There is love there. There is respect there. However, there’s also frustration...” You damn skippy. Friendships and human relationships are complex AF. Like Carol. She’s honestly one of the most complicated characters on this show and any show, IMHO. That’s what makes her so memorable and such a lightning rod for discussion.
I know I might be in a minority, but I really feel like they need more of those little scenes between the kids to keep things real.
Kang saying she always feels like she’s going to get murdered in a staircase or parking lot is relatable, funny, and sad all at the same time. It’s a girl thing.
Why is Carol’s story giving me Dark Knight vibes? Like I feel like she’ll gladly shoulder the burden of their distrust, their hate, or their judgment as long as the hard choices she makes keeps them safe. And she’s still ultimately going to come back to save their asses even when they forsake her. Just like Bruce Wayne/Batman. Am I reaching too far, lol? Because sometimes I do that.
Anyway. This is the third episode of the season and the third episode in a row that I mostly enjoyed. I don’t know if I’m just so relieved and happy to have all the characters and my show back or what, but overall? I’ve been pleased with the episodes and found something to love in all of them.
There’s a much stronger horror vibe woven throughout Season 11 so far. I feel like it’s a return to the roots of the show and I like that. Literally none of the characters are making perfect choices and this viewer is here for it. My only complaint so far is there hasn’t been enough Carol but what we’ve been given has felt like a gift and significant in a way that Gimps’ version was not. Also? I really hope the trend of the ladies working together and supporting each other continues because they rule the TWD world, lol.
Hope you enjoyed at least some of my TWD word vomit.
Until next episode.
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7 Feelings that Most Witches Can Relate To
1. Feeling shame when you forget about a holiday (again)
Let’s be honest; it happens to us at least once. Life gets busy and before you know it, you see posts on Twitter, saying, “Blessed Ostara!” while you are in the breakroom, scarfing down bagel bites while simultaneously trying your damnedest to get marinara sauce off your white shirt. What happens next can only be compared to the 5 stages of grief:
Denial: Maybe everyone was just posting stuff early. Maybe they’re in a timezone waaaayyy ahead of yours. You didn’t see anything posted about it yesterday, so there’s no need to look at a calendar, because you didn’t forget about the holiday.
Anger: It’s not your fault, it’s society’s fault. It’s not like there’s tons of advertisements about it in the media. No, everyone is hung up on Easter. The lack of accurate representation pisses you off and you’re prepared to scream from the top of your lungs about your beliefs.
Bargaining: Okay, so maybe you initially forgot about it, but you can totally make up for it. You still have time in the day to go to the store and buy some ingredients to make a quick meal as an offering. Wiping that stain off your shirt can kinda represent creating a clean-slate, can’t it?
Depression: You are legit the worst witch in the world. What kind of witch doesn’t even remember the major holidays. No amount of salvaging the day will erase the fact that you forgot about it in the first place.
Acceptance: Missing the occasional (or every) holiday isn’t something worth beating yourself up for, especially since they traditionally span three days or a week anyways. Even non-witches will forget about mainstream holidays. Besides, there’s always next year if you absolutely can’t do anything this week.
2. Trying not to destroy your bank account on a really cool crystal
For most witches, the fascination with what are essentially pretty rocks predates their official delve into the craft. When we do delve, however, that love (pretty much an obsession at this point) amplifies. So, when we go by that crystal kiosk in the mall, it becomes all too hard to resist buying that $50 bonsai tree with leaves of tiny jade shards. Sometimes it’s a jade tree, sometimes it’s a large amethyst geode, and sometimes it’s a hand-crafted obsidian dagger with an ornate elk-antler handle. However, the little voice in the back of your head desperately screams out that this money can be better used on food or on hoarding toilet paper (excuse our memeing). Who wins the argument? Hell if I know. *tries to sneakily slide card across the counter*
3. Not being sure which *witchy* aesthetic you want to represent
There are so many different aesthetics that you see witches portray on social media such as Instagram, Twitter, and even Tumblr. There are so many, and they’re all so damn cute, so finding one to truly commit to is about as difficult as choosing your starter in the first Pokemon game. (Charmander is the right answer to that decision, by the way). Those aesthetics include, but are not limited to:
The “traditional” witch- This aesthetic is typically described as Goth, witchy, or spooky. It can entail black lipstick, straight pitch-black hair, spider-web stockings, and platform boots that go up to your knees or thighs. There is nothing wrong with following this aesthetic. Go for it and relish in the fact that you can easily crush your enemies under your 5-inch platforms. And the fact that you are able to walk in them while normies just can’t seem to quite grasp the skill.
The plant witch- These witches will wear lots of greens and often have floral or tree tattoos. Their social media is usually saturated with pictures of their green children. Their hands are more often than not coated in a thin layer of dirt, especially under their nails. They yearn for their own greenhouse or maybe just a really nice sunroom.
The bohemian witch- These witches fulfill an aesthetic similar to the hippie movement of the mid-1900’s. You can usually find them wearing comfortable, loose-fitting clothes, and, more often than not, barefoot. Their Instagram is typically full of yoga poses and soap that they just hand-crafted.
The closet witch– Because these witches are not open (or are actively hiding) their craft, it is not easy to spot one. You have to look closer to see the signs. Such signs will usually be in the form of crystal and/or symbolic jewelry.
Pro-tip: You don’t have to fulfill a certain aesthetic. The aesthetic is never what makes a witch a true witch. So go nuts and wear what you want to wear. Your personal style is your aesthetic.
4. Getting Roasted by Your Own Tarot Cards/Runes/Divination Method
We usually consult our cards when we need answers. However, sometimes, we already know the answers and are just in denial. In these times, we consult our trusty tarot cards to find the real answer, since the one in our heads is obviously not the right one. It can feel like a slap in the face whenever we do a reading, hoping/praying for a different answer, and receiving what we already knew or facts we wished we hadn’t discovered. In these situations, it can mean that something unpleasant is the result of our own actions or that we have to do something unpleasant in the near future. The cards do not care about your feelings. The cards care about giving you the answers you need and helping you.
5. Forgetting About the Jar That You Put Outside to Collect Rainwater
It’s supposed to be simple. You wait until it rains, you grab a jar, you put it outside, and, once it finishes raining, you bring it back in. But, no, it never ends up this simple. It all seems to go wrong at step 4. After we put the jar out, more often than not, we go on about our day and the jar leaves our mind… usually for a few days. By that time, however, the water has either been evaporated or it has been contaminated with dirt, pollen, or even bugs. Just like with forgetting holidays, we tell ourselves that we won’t forget next time, but you don’t need to consult your cards in order to know that, unless you set an alarm on your phone, the cycle will only repeat itself.
6. Being Overwhelmed in the Beginning
Witchcraft is such a broad, broad term. When you say that you’re going to “practice witchcraft,” it can mean a multitude of things. You could be performing a spell, praying to your gods, drawing sigils, astral projecting, divining, and much, much more. You quickly discover this when you start your journey into the craft and it becomes overwhelming. We are in an age where vast amounts of information is at our fingertips at any moment. You find yourself asking, “Where do I begin?” We tell ourselves, “Let’s find a guide!” Then, we see that there are hundreds of “beginner” guides to the craft in bookstores and thousands online. It’s stressful and there’s a pressure of picking one that had the “right” version of things. In the end, you just have to make a leap of faith and pick one that feels right to you. Build your craft from things that pique your interest. Or, like me, you can close your eyes and grab one off the shelf and go with that.
7. Being Exasperated with Incorrect Portrayals of Witches/Paganism/Magick
You’re just hanging out with someone or a group, or you’re just chilling by yourself, innocently checking out something claiming to be about witches or paganism or magick- or even those books or movies about Ouija boards and/or malignant spirits- and as you’re watching, you notice some things are wrong. Very wrong. In fact, if the people in this had any knowledge at all of magick or paganism, they wouldn’t be in this unfortunate circumstance to begin wi- hey, don’t go without closing the ritual prope- at least the salt is still lini- hey, don’t do tha– I don’t even care anymore, they had no respect or reason to even do this in the first place. If people look to these things as what practicing magick is like (there are some very ignorant people out there), then they are getting a lot of misinformation and downright insulting stereotypes and stigmas ingrained in their minds. No, not all spirits are bad and trying to kill you, maybe if you’d show some respect, Karen, things wouldn’t try to kill you or possess you or whatever the fuck is going on here.
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#witchblr#witch#witchcraft#witches of color#witches of tumblr#wicca#wiccablr#wiccan#wiccans of color#wiccans of tumblr#pagan#paganism#pagans of color#pagans of tumblr#occult#paranormal#spiritual#spiritualism
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Call An Uber? | 21
BTS x Reader | idolverse au, uber driver!Reader, translator!Reader | Fluff, flirting, super slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, mature themes and eventual smut
Summary: Your normal life with a normal, yet inconsistent job gets drastically changed when your dreams come true. Sounds boring right?
What happens when all of this occurs, but you’re still doing something you love AND getting a large sum for it? Now there’s something to think about, and it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.
Warnings: Angst with some fluff, cursing
Word Count: 3k
A/N: Re-reading this through is so weird to me. I’m sorry for all the angst, I hope you guys forgive me T_T
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Bold = English
Books, clothes, equipment… It didn’t matter what was, if it was in my way it was getting shoved in my haste to reach the phone. It was like I could feel the storm of anger awaiting me on the other side of the hotel door, but priorities did come first. Soojin could go fuck herself for all I cared at the moment.
My thumb hovered over the tiny green telephone symbol for longer than necessary. Was it urgent enough to put above my job at the moment? I wouldn’t be surprised if my mother had just pocket called me or drank a little too much. It was too strange to have any positive implications. To be frank, I was probably trying too hard to convince myself otherwise because the opportunity to stall was too tempting to ignore.
Anyone who knew me well would know just how much I loved to procrastinate problem solving. Long lasting ones weren’t an exception in any case.
“(Y/n), you finally showed up.”
What? Fuck, I must have tapped it while I was lost in my brain.
“Mother,” I responded through gritted teeth.
Trepidation weighed my tone down to the floor.
Then there was a silence that made me feel as unsure as ever. If you asked me to explain the feelings caused by the echoingly empty sound, I couldn’t tell you. It was as if she was carefully handpicking her next words. Tiptoeing so cautiously around her thoughts, just in case I didn’t like what she had to say and barred myself away once more.
She’s too foolish to understand that I can see through her, even if she’s not physically here.
I fiercely fought down the urge to grind my teeth in anger and chose to wait patiently instead. If she had to take the time to think about what she was saying, then she obviously wanted to be in my favour somehow. I could not for the life of me understand how she’d possibly thought that was a scenario that existed, but apparently it did.
“Honey … how have you been these days?”
A surge of bile bubbled up through my windpipe. This problem was becoming borderline toxic.
“You better get to the point before I hang up,” I seethed. The plan was to keep my tone calm and neutral but there was no way the hurt wasn’t going to seep through the cracks. Hearing how fake and desperate she’d become just single-handedly destroyed what little snippet of respect I had left, buried deeply somewhere there in my heart.
She scoffed almost soundlessly before heeding the request.
“Fine, if it’s really going to be this way. I need money. Your dumbass father has gone and crashed the car again, but this time he’s pretty messed up. We can’t afford all these bills and I really need some booze if I’m gonna stay sane in this shithole. You’re the only child still attached to us so you’re going to be the one to get your dunce of a dad out of debt.”
I felt my chest tighten the longer she spoke, albeit rather roughly, but the words were still heavy with wrenching information. I didn’t know exactly how to feel, but I knew this whole situation would be a hell of a lot easier without the tugging family ties making me second guess everything.
“Hold on, how bad is the accident?” I growled, trying to ignore the rest of her sentence about alcohol and shitholes. The thought of my own father being severely injured made my heart skip a beat in sudden fear. It wasn’t too bad, was it?
“Pretty damn bad, I guess. He was in the ER, and I’m sure the doctor said something about rehab? Acute rehab? Ugh, can’t remember.”
This is terrible, and she can barely bring herself to care!
Tears unwillingly pricked at the corners of my eyes and I furiously blinked them away.
“Is he on life support or something?”
“Not anymore. Dunno why he’s still being a dickhead and drink driving everywhere. Something was bound to happen eventually, and if it was up to me they should have slapped a band aid on it and sent him on his way. These fancy doctors just want to leech money from us.”
“You realise that money is what kept him alive, right?” I murmured in disbelief. There was a raging war of conflict taking place in my mind, and I couldn’t even fathom how she was being so nonchalant about all of it. Her own husband had almost died, and she was blaming the hospital for their crippling poverty.
“(Y/n), darling…”
There it was again, that wickedly sweetened voice that could only be a feeble attempt at manipulation at this point.
“I’m only going to think about it for the sake of life and death, I literally can’t believe how fucking disgusting you are. Don’t consider me attached to you ever again,” I choked out in a haze of fury. I could feel every shred of dignity and hope I had left for my family burn away into cloudy ash before me.
“I should have known better.”
And with that I hung up. The silence was too deafening, too close and invasive to be even remotely comfortable. I didn’t even know why the disappointment and vindication was hitting so hard and fast either, because in the back of my worrisome mind I always knew that nothing good could come from such a reach.
Wishful thinking. It seemed to be something I lived by too closely.
My eyes blurred with a watery film as I brought the phone screen upwards again. Soojin was waiting for me like a brewing storm outside, but I knew that I just couldn’t stitch myself back together for a meeting mere minutes after feeling my tendrils of a childhood slip away from me.
‘Can you come in here for a minute or two? It’s okay if you and Yoongi left already.’
I sent the text to Namjoon after a second of hesitation. I knew normally I would’ve dealt with the emotion and carefully hidden it away to move on with my working life. I wouldn’t have allowed anyone see past the drawn curtains into the darkness behind, but things had changed drastically over the past few months.
Since I had pulled that stupid stunt and distanced myself from everyone I cared about, things had changed. Yoongi’s words rang clearly through my head again and again like a broken record.
“You could’ve talked to us, we wouldn’t just ignore you if it was about something serious. Jesus, especially if you were feeling depressed. (Y/n), please…”
Then Taehyung’s.
“This is why you can’t hide your feelings. At least talk to one person, a close friend or something, because I know you haven’t…”
“I’m here.”
I sniffled in surprise as the hotel door clicked shut suddenly. Namjoon was by my side in less than a moment, breaths coming out in quiet pants even though he seemed to be trying his best at controlling the strained puffs of air.
“Oh God, you really ran back here for me?” I sighed, trying to tip my head back to get rid of the annoying things called tears.
“I was only down the hall, trust me,” Namjoon assured softly, taking notice of my sorry state of emotions and instantly switching his gaze to one full of concern. I watched as his perceptive eyes trailed down the length of my arm to the phone clasped into my shaking palms.
“(Y/n) …”
I almost jumped in my skin when he moved to slowly unclasp my fingers from around the warm device. The man took the rectangular object and slid it carefully onto the surface of the bedside table before taking a seat beside me on the bed. His honeyed voice was nothing but soothing to the ears.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
Then I spilled it all, like a broken dam rushing to meet what physics required of it. His eyes hardened as I spoke about my mother and her overall attitude, but softened when I couldn’t help voicing my newfound conflictions. I wasn’t surprised to find myself cradled into his broad chest by the end of it.
“A-and Taehyung had just pretty much convinced me to try reaching out to them last night. Now I’m forced into making a decision I don’t even want to find myself making. It’s just that…if he dies I will never forgive myself, and I really, really fucking hate that.”
I was almost ready to openly cry into the flimsy polyester shirt he wore, but once again I found myself holding back in fear of losing face. I never knew why I just couldn’t let it all go for once in my life. Maybe it was something too utterly routine after years and years of practice.
“Nobody can blame you for feeling that way about your own father, (Y/n). It’s like a natural instinct to try and protect those closest to you,” Namjoon murmured lowly. I let my eyes droop shut as I tuned into the rumblings coming from his chest.
“That’s the thing. I’m not close to them at all.”
A hollow sigh was next. His body relaxed further as he grew used to the feeling of my tears sinking through his exercise shirt, because even though he was the one to bring me into the reassuring hold, he still wasn’t accustomed to such a close proximity with someone other than his bandmates. I felt so indebted to him in every way.
“Even so, it’s family. You feel this connection that no-one else can, and even if you don’t like who they are as people, there will always be a love there that you might think is just too unexplainable. Now that I think about it, your nature to care about others probably made you even more susceptible.”
I couldn’t help but widen my eyes. He was always able to just come out and spin my thoughts into the words I couldn’t come up with. He just seemed to understand the very world we lived in, along with all of its nasty people and ideologies, in a way I struggled to. I was shocked at how he was able to take any point of view, turn it around to see the other side of it, and grasp the concept just as easily. An optimistic part of it, nonetheless.
“Namjoon, why are you just so amazing?” I chuckled after a minute of contemplative silence. He’d fidgeted slightly when I hadn’t responded, wondering if he’d done something wrong or made things worse. He was a little goofy sometimes, but nobody could deny how brilliant he truly was as a person.
“I’m not really,” He huffed bashfully, and I was shocked again when I felt one of his large hands come up to stroke my hair in comfort. It was so weirdly easy to be comforted by him after such a stressful morning.
“It’s just easy to see why you’re feeling the way you are. Take my advice and think hard about what you want to do about it.”
I felt the pad of a finger wipe away the last of my salty tears from my skin. The action was so sweet I couldn’t help but lift my head to meet his heartwarming gaze. The sight of his slight smile and tiny dented dimples made my heart almost stutter to a halt.
“In the end, they may only be using you and may only continue to turn a blind eye to the wonderful daughter they have, but at least you know you did what you believed was right. Use the love they may not feel to love yourself and the person you are.”
“Namjoon, stop before I…”
Taehyung I wish you could look, because this is me opening up. It’s ugly isn’t it?
More tears suddenly flowed and for once I couldn’t hold it back anymore. Namjoon’s face fell as I sobbed loudly into his chest, the liquid remorse tumbling out unstoppably. I couldn’t see his saddened expression of relief, but I knew I wasn’t alone in feeling the pent up tension flow away along with the waterworks. His muffled ‘shh, it’s gonna be fine’ and gentle strokes of encouragement to my head began gradually replacing the emotions with joyous ones.
I felt so much appreciation and love for the man it almost hurt.
“I haven’t cried in front of anyone since primary school, up until this morning in the hallway and now here,” I whimpered after a few minutes, almost letting myself doze off to the feeling of his presence enveloping me. How long had it even been?
“I’m just glad you even told me as much as you did. Taehyung might have mentioned that a few of us could see your pain, even if you didn’t know it was there yourself,” Namjoon said after clearing his throat slightly. I felt bad that I’d forced him into staying with me through the bout of misery, but his words violently struck more than one chord.
Yeah, and he also mentioned something else.
I was suddenly reminded of Taehyung’s big revelation from the night prior. The feelings they all had for me. I forced myself to keep my eyes trained forward, but there was no way Namjoon hadn’t noticed the way my body tensed up all of a sudden.
I can’t ask him about it now, or confirm it. They’re in the middle of a busy schedule and I also have stuff to deal with. I’m going to have to wait until we’re back in Korea to confront them about it.
I relaxed again and finally removed myself from Namjoon. He looked up at my standing figure with slight confusion, not really being sure of my stability or composure just yet. I could only sigh to let us both know that I was feeling a hell of a lot better than before.
I took one amused moment to glance over his slightly ruffled black tresses, probably having little to no effort put into the style for a day such as this one. Soft hours were now open in the messy hotel room.
“Thank you so much, I really needed … all of that,” I smiled crookedly, indicating that I was ready to move on with my life and away from the dilemma of my family for now. Namjoon got to his feet quickly after almost knocking over the vase of flowers on the bedside table. He grunted in surprise while I laughed and grabbed for his flailing hand to help keep him steady.
“It’s fine, you know it always is. You’ve been through more shit this morning than most go through in a week or months. I’d say you deserve a shoulder to cry on whenever you need one,” he spoke seriously and nodded, averting his widened eyes down to where I still held his hand within my own. These guys really did love a lot of hand attention, I did come to find after all this time.
“You’re sent from the heavens Joonie,” I chuckled airily, feeling so many feelings but nowhere near as crushingly as I had earlier.
“You confused me with you, angel,” He replied abruptly, moving with a confidence I rarely saw to shift a stray lock of hair away from my face. His smile was so warm and his line incredibly cheesy, but I felt something within me snap. The love was too intense for me to overlook.
I stepped forward and reached up to cradle his smiling cheeks into my palms. There was a need to rise onto my tiptoes before my lips finally grazed his in a very restricted but needy kiss. I fought back a smile when I felt his muscles slacken in absolute shock, but then he was returning everything wholeheartedly. His large hands pulled me closer by the waist and his lips started moving against mine just as surely, as if it were something that had been waiting to happen for too long.
I almost felt myself get lost in the sensation, but something nagged at me the further I slipped away into the moment.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I gasped, pulling away reluctantly and squeezing my eyes shut in burning shame. I was embarrassed of myself for not upholding the pact I’d created about leaving the whole feelings thing until later on, plus I had basically thrown myself at him without giving anything resembling a warning.
“Why are you sorry? I think you just made me the happiest man on Earth,” Namjoon protested in shock, eyes wide and hands spread open to anticipate any sudden movements I made to escape. His cheeks were flushed a rosy pink and I found it undeniably gorgeous to contrast his complexion.
“I promised to leave it, but I just couldn’t control myself. Can we finish this-”
I made a little circular motion with one finger.
“-once we get back to Korea? I just have to speak to everyone.”
Namjoon nodded and agreed tentatively. I could tell by the way his brows furrowed slightly that he’d probably figured out the reasoning behind my request, but he would have to wait to question Taehyung at another time. I inwardly thanked him for his overarching awareness.
“If you see Tae, tell him I’m alright and that he needs to stop blaming himself. I know he’s probably taking the whole Soojin thing badly. I’ll fix it all,” I continued in a more level tone of voice, bringing back the sense of professionalism as I began thinking of how I was going to go about this predicament.
“Of course. Good luck out there,” He gave my shoulder an awkward pat before moving towards the door. I sighed regretfully as the leader left without another word, the strange tension lingering but somehow not becoming an overpowering force.
It’s your own fault. You went and kissed him, so now you’ve gone and confused everyone and yourself.
I didn’t know what lay in store for me now, as the news would surely spread like an untamed wildfire; stemming from Tae and Namjoon undoubtedly. What a bloody dumb thing to do, considering I’d just been accused of fucking around with one of them already.
My phone vibrated against the smooth surface of the bedside table loudly. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, being the devil incarnate herself.
‘We’re waiting in the office area downstairs, I suggest you make it snappy or I’ll get on with this on my own.’
Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.
tagged: @joyful-jimin, @l4life, @gee-nee, @m0chilattae, @rossemayme, @doilooklikeinoe, @jeon-joker, @topthis808, @justyouraveragerando, @booklover240, @midnight1199, @k-popin-hoe, @xctvme
#bts x reader#bts#bts scenarios#bts angst#bts fanfic#bts imagines#bts fluff#bts smut#bts crack#kim namjoon#kim seokjin#min yoongi#jung hoseok#park jimin#kim taehyung#jeon jungkook#ot7#call an uber?#salade-tb
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Essential Avengers: Avengers #232: And Now... Starfox!
June, 1983
“From Titan with love... Starfox!”
oh god no
Err. Anyway.
Last time on Avengers Z, the Avengers were bad enough dudes and lady dudes to rescue the president from wooden dopplegangers. The sinister and badly dressed Plantman (not to be confused with a Mega Man boss) summoned a giant-sized man-shaped swamp thing to battle the Avengers. They were doing a decent job fighting it when Starfox crashed his spaceship into it in his rush to join the Avengers.
And now, what happens after that.
Hawkeye is a terrible patient.
So also last time, a ceiling fell on Hawkeye’s leg and it be broke. He’s apparently the kind of dude who thinks its more manly to refuse anesthetic so She-Hulk has to literally pin him down long enough for Ordinary Doctor Donald Blake to cast it up.
And wow, that cast goes all the way up!
Where did you break your leg, Clint? At the sternum?
Actually this reminds me of Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes because Hawkeye got his arm snaked and in-this-version-a-paramedic Jane Foster was asked to look at it but Hawkeye was similarly uncooperative there.
I wonder if that was an intentional reference or whether an accurate portrayal of Clint’s sparking personality just gets you there naturally.
But with the casting call done, Dr. Donald Blake makes to leave, making a point to mention how lucky that he was in town instead of in Chicago where he supposedly lives.
THUS Thor’s secret identity is secure forever.
Wasp and Captain America take Ordinary Doctor Donald Blake to the elevator to show him out but really, he just transforms back to Thor in the elevator.
Because Cap and Wasp already know his secret identity. As does Dra- oh wait, he’s dead. As does Iron Man.
In fact, after Cap mentions he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing Dr. Donald Blake transform, Thor mentions very few mortals have ever seen the change.
Thor: “E’en Iron Man -- with whom I did share the secret of my dual life -- seldom watched me assume my godlike form. I believe it disturbed him.’
Wasp: “Uh-huh.”
Uh-huh is right. That’s a weird, random character beat! I wonder why it bothered Tony. Is it the god part? Transformation in general? Would it bother him to watch Bruce Banner turn into the Hulk? Or Captain Marvel/old broke version and Rick Jones chaaaaange places?
I’m intrigued. And yet there’s no further information. Hmm.
Anyway, the three founding or retroactively made a founding Avengers pass through two sets of ultra-security doors because obviously the thing in your base you most want to protect is your conference table.
Its got the cool, personalized chairs. Don’t judge.
As always, I wonder what symbols the other Avengers get.
Wasp delayed the resumption of the Avengers meeting (because it got interrupted by presidential ransom situation last issue) by a half hour because she wanted to run some things past Thor and Cap.
Wasp: “After all, we are the only core members on active duty and... well... I wanted to ask you both first... should I step down as Avengers chairwoman?”
Thor asks if she feels unduly burdened by the job but she says no, in fact it makes her feel so aliiiiiiiiiiive.
Cap: “Then stick with it, Jan! You’ve been doing a fine job! What on Earth made you even think of stepping down? Surely you don’t blame yourself for Iron Man leaving -- ?”
Surely in fact, she does do.
That weird call they got from an Iron Man quitting the team has shaken her. She probably thinks its because of Wasp dumping him. And in fairness, Tony ghosting the team happened not very long after that. But its not actually related.
Also apparently, Captain Marvel (the new cool one) was made a full active member and not an in-training to fill the vacancy Iron Man left. But now Hawkeye has gotten injured and there are no reserve members available.
Hercules is off doing him knows what. Beast is with the Defenders. Wonder Man is on the West Coast, presumably trying to make it in Hollywood. Vision and Scarlet Witch are trying to be civilians.
Wasp: “We used to have too many members around. Now we may not have enough!”
Yeah, ever since the roster shake-up that was soon followed by Hank’s No Good Very Bad Day, the Avengers have had a bit of a difficulty in keeping the team at good numbers.
Dammit, Hank!
Thor suggests, hey, we have Eros of Titan hanging around asking to be made a member. Why not... let him?
Thor: “Perhaps we should induct the brash Eros! He is swift -- and nearly as strong as an Asgardian!”
Cap: “Yes, but is he Avengers material? Does he have the proper training?”
Wasp: “Training! That’s it! We could try him out as an Avenger-in-training! It worked for Captain Marvel! She was almost totally unused to super-powers when she came to us, but she developed into a peach of an Avenger! With a little on-the-job training, I’ll bet Eros would fit in, too!”
So she calls the White House and asks if the president is back from his kidnapping yet. She has networking strings to pull.
And this honestly brightens her right up. Being group leader really does make her feel so aliiiiiiiiiiive. That and being able to call in favors from the government.
Twenty-six minutes of calling in favors later, Wasp reconvenes the meeting, this time with special guest Eros.
She asks why he wants to be an Avenger.
Eros: “Why not?”
This gives Hawkeye an anger and he bangs the table and also accidentally bangs his broken leg.
Eros decides to expand on his answer and says that he’s a lover of adventure and what better way to seek it than as an Avenger? He’s already aided them in the past so they already know of him.
Thor: “Aye! Against the threat of your mad brother, Thanos!”
Eros: “Too true. But I believe your brother Loki has also given the Avengers trouble hasn’t he?”
Wasp has to interrupt and tell the two to keep family matters out of the conversation. She makes a better moderator than some.
Eros: “You are quite right, Wasp! I hold no one -- god or man -- responsible for the actions of relatives! I seek but your fellowship! Indeed, I can think of no assemblage so appealing... so charming... anywhere in the cosmos!”
Wasp, Captain Marvel, and She-Hulk seem to approve of this answer.
... WAIT ARE YOU USING YOUR CHARM POWERS ON THEM? EROOOOOOOOOOOOOS!!!
Anyway, since Hawkeye is out of action-
Hawkeye: “What do you mean, ‘out of action’? Who says I am?”
Cap(tain America) says he is and tells him he can’t be expected to charge into action with his leg in a cast. Which Hawkeye sadly agrees.
Anyway, since Hawkeye is out of action, Wasp decides that the Avengers can accomodate Eros as an Avenger-in-training. But the government did have one condition for letting his alien man become an Avenger.
He needs a codename.
Wasp: “Frankly, the president was hesitant to approve of anyone named Eros. He would rather you were called something less provocative in public.”
Hey, fuck you, Reagan.
But Wasp has an idea.
Wasp: “You’re a pretty foxy guy... and you’ve been out among the stars... how about ‘Starfox!’”
Good god, Wasp. Did you really just name this man Spacehunk? You’ve gone mad with power.
Also, I jumped the gun last post. I didn’t realize that Wasp comes up with his codename here so I was using Starfox to refer to him already.
Also also, he has a fox emblem on his shirt. Why does he do that if he wasn’t Starfox yet? What does the fox represent in Titanian culture??
Eros: “Starfox? I don’t know... Is this necessary?”
Captain America: “Well, it could make things easier, and you’d still be Eros to your friends. After all, my real name isn’t Captain America!”
Eros: “It isn’t?”
Hah.
I adore that last exchange.
Imagine the incredulity in the tone. ‘I thought that Earth names were Just Like That.’
Anyway, Eros accepts the name Spacehunk Starfox and the position of in-training so Wasp decides to get him started right away.
Remember that thing with the president and the wood men? Happened like an hour ago?
Well, there’s a Navy task force tracking the submarine which was spotted escaping from the scene and they’ve requested Avengers help. But, eh, why send the whole team?
So Wasp sends Thor, Captain Marvel, and Starfox-in-training.
And in fairness! That’s a trio that can handle a whole heck of a lot with their respective powers!
So off they go.
Starfox: “Duty and glory, Thor! Songs shall be written about this day -- even if I must write them myself!”
You know. That’s actually a very good attitude to have. Eros will be the fanfiction he wants to see in the world.
With that issue handled, Cap(tain America) and Wasp head off to take care of some other business.
Leaving She-Hulk and Hawkeye with only each other as company.
Hah.
On their way to the mission, Captain Marvel zooms all around, practicing her cornering in flight. As a new superhero... like its been under a month, I think? Captain Marvel still thinks flying is the neatest thing.
And she’s right!
But she’s also discovered a new ability. Since her energy form is made of energy and she has control over energy. Instead of flying around as a vaguely her shaped glowing blur, she can concentrate to create a light image of herself, why not!
She has made herself harder to draw but easier to portray!
Thor: “Your radiance rivals that of the golden apples of immortality!”
Captain Marvel: “I’ll have to take your word for that!”
Hah.
She zooms over to where Starfox is flying. Captain Marvel has been eyeing him throughout the book, which Wasp has been assuming was because he’s a space hunk.
But maybe she just wanted to learn more about Captain Mar-Vell because that’s what she asks Starfox about.
Starfox: “He was a gentle warrior... a noble soul. He was a true hero... Worthy of rank and name!”
I guess the description or the sadness Starfox still has at Mar-Vell’s death makes Monica feel like shit, like maybe she isn’t worthy, so she zooms ahead to let the navy know the Avengers are on their way.
Starfox: “Have I offended her?”
Thor: “Eros, I begin to wonder if your reputation with the ladies is truly deserved.”
Hah.
But also: If you have magical fuck-me powers you don’t need to actually be charming, I guess? Dammit, Starfox!
Captain Marvel arrives on the deck of the navy task force flagship as a bolt of lighting (SHAZAM!), alarming the navy in two ways.
First, lightning. Its just so loud! But second, wait the Avengers only sent one person?
Captain Marvel goes nah I got Thor and Spacehunk but they’re slowpokes. Not moving the speed of light. Imagine.
Admiring Admiral: I don’t know who the redhead is, but I’d sail into Hades itself with Thor in my crew!
Its fun the insight we get into how respected and beloved Thor is. I don’t think that’s the case anymore with modern Thor. The marvel citenzry has just become jaded to the cool hammer man.
The admiral explains the situation. That they’re chasing the submarine seen in the area of the presidential ransom attempt. But its hiding in an undersea canyon that navy frogmen kero kero can’t reach and that its somehow been deflecting depth charges.
The admiral was going to wait for navy subs to arrive but hey, if the Avengers want to try, this is their book.
Meanwhile, in aforementioned sinister submarine, the horticultural horror... Plantman! Nah, just kidding. He’s a goofus and I will point and laugh.
His cool sub lets him pre-explode the depth charges before they reach his sub but even he doesn’t want to tangle with trident-class submarines so he wants to skedaddle. And if the navy is blocking his way, the navy gotta pay.
He activates his PLANT RAY which is a real thing, look it up, and energizes the kelp in the undersea canyon.
The kelp reaches up like a kraken, a kelpken, and starts trying to pull the navy ships under.
Thor: “‘Tis an attack by yet another form of plant! Our unknown foe has struck again! Stand you back... the son of Odin shall end this threat!”
And then Thor jumps into the ocean, leading a confused Starfox to ask whether Thor needs to breath.
Captain Marvel helpfully informs him and the audience that Thor can hold his breath for hours.
Thanks, Monica!
And then some kelp yanks Starfox and then Captain Marvel off the ship.
Meanwhile, a very expensive Manhattan apartment occupied by a grumpy Tony Stark.
Tony Stark: “Why waste good money getting a T.V. remote control fixed, when I can do it myself faster an’ better? Hah! When I’m done with it, it’ll do more’n change channels... it’ll walk the blasted dog!”
... Tony, how though?
And do you have a dog?
What is going on in your mind?
His remote repair reverie is interrupted by a binging and a bonging on his chamber door. Only this and nothing more.
He grouses about the interruption but HEY ITS HIS FAVORITE PEOPLE! Its Wasp and Captain America!
They’ve been stalking him, a little.
The pressing matters they had to attend to was running down a list of homes owned by Tony and searching them one by one to find him.
He’s happy to see them though and offers them some morning whiskey. Or bourbon. Or perhaps chocolate soda.
Look, I googled eyeopener and its booze you drink in the morning to wake up although I’m pretty sure its afternoon now and if you need to drink booze to wake up, you might want to consider limiting your intake actually. Especially for Tony Stark who had an entire story arc about alcoholism. Dammit Tony!
Wasp: “Eye-opener?! Tony Stark, where’s your mind? We’ve been worried sick about you! No one’s been able to find you for days on end -- you haven’t answered Avengers emergency calls -- and when you did call this morning it was to resign!”
Tony Stark: “Now jus’ hold yer horses! Maybe I have been outta touch... but I’ve had my own ‘mergencies to handle! An’ I didn’t call you this morning! I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”
Iron Man: “He’s right! I’m the one who made that call!”
Imagine being someone who reads Avengers and not Iron Man. How blown would your mind be seeing Iron Man fly into a room Tony Stark is already in?
Somewhat, right? Somewhat.
Imagine being Captain America and Wasp and seeing Iron Man fly into a room where Tony Stark is when you know for sure that Iron Man and Tony Stark are the same guy.
Cap demands to know whats going on and who is in Tony’s armor.
Tony Stark: “Jus’ who he appears to be... Iron Man, my faithful armored companion and bodyguard... jus’ like it says in the Stark International press releases! Ya see, boys an’ girls, ol’ Uncle Tony has decided to quit the hero biz while he’s still ahead of the game! No more playin’ Iron Man for me! Nosirrebob! Time to let a younger man wear the boilerplate!”
Oh.... Tony.... if this only weren’t the perpetual superhero narrative, you might be able to bow out gracefully.
And its not like this is gracefully anyway. As indicated by the charmingly tousled look, the slurred speech and the morning drinking in the afternoon, Tony is quite drunk.
Wasp asks New Iron Man to confirm and he does. He clarifies that the reason he quit the Avengers is because he doesn’t feel experienced enough yet to hold his own on the team.
And apologizes for the confusion. The Iron Man helmet has voice modifying circuits so New Iron Man (secretly James Rhodes) sounded just like Old Iron Man (aka Tony Stark). He didn’t realize that the Avengers knew Tony’s secret so didn’t realize he’d just be creating an intriguing mystery prompting readers to check out the Iron Man book slash confuse the Avengers.
Tony Stark: “Yeah... I forgot to tell ya that Cap an’ the Wasp were in on the ol’ secret. Thor, too! Oh, well... no harm done!”
Then he drinks some more booze alcohol. Cap asks him doesn’t he think he’s had enough? And Tony is like hey no I don’t and don’t butt into my life kthx.
Wasp: “We don’t want to pry, Tony! We just don’t want to see you throw your life away... like Hank did.”
Tony Stark: “I am not Hank Pym, lady! I’m nothin’ like your ex-hubby! I don’t need your help -- an’ you don’t need mine! The Stark Foundation will pay the Avengers’ bills with or without me! So, if you’ll kindly get out of my life -- !”
Oof. Why does everyone Wasp dates turn out to be a jerk?
I assume she was just leaning into it the time she dated Havok. But otherwise, oof.
They really have no choice but to leave Tony to make his own bad decisions. At least he was responsible enough to get someone else in the Iron Man armor?
Geez though. Geez.
Hate seeing you like this, Tones.
Meanwhile, back in the Atlantic Ocean... Captain Marvel fairly casually assesses the situation of being dragged into the water.
Captain Marvel: “Never saw any kelp like this before! It grips tighter than an octopus, and it feels as tough as steel! I could just turn to some form of energy and slip out of it, but then it could grab some poor sailor!”
So instead she explodes, which she can do, shredding the kelp holding her.
Then off she goes to find how Starfox is faring.
He’s faring okay. Just casually punching some kelp like it ain’t no thing.
But since teamwork does make the dream work, she blasts the kelp for him. Starfox thanks her though also says that he could’ve kelped himself.
They discuss how they can hear each other perfectly well underwater thanks to SCIENCE! The science of water conducting sound. I find it a bit dubious but whatever. Not as dubious as the next bit.
Captain Marvel asks how Starfox is breathing underwater.
Starfox: “A thin shell of air clung to me as I was pulled under... due to the gravitic potential of my body, I suppose! It all relates to my flying abilities. I was surprised myself! This is the first time I’ve ever taken an ocean plunge!”
Fun way to discover that, huh!
Also, heck, how long does a thin shell of air last underwater? How shallowly do you breathe, man!?
-google- Huh, Wikipedia has this description of his powers using almost the exact words (although not the word order) from this scene. I feel that it does not come up much so this is the primary source.
It also says that he doesn’t need to breathe as much as a normal hooman. So that’s answered.
The two newest Avengers find Thor already has things well in hand freeing the propeller without need for any further kelp.
So all three Avengers surface (and Thor retrieves his helmet, which in a nice bit fell off when he dove into the water and just floated on the surface).
Thanks to ex-boat cop Monica Rambeau knowing navy semaphore, she recognizes the signal from the navy vessel that the enemy sub is making a run for it.
And since none of these three Avengers have trouble fighting underwater, Starfox suggests they give chase.
Plantman: “NO! Not the Avengers! Not again!”
Yes, again. Yes, always.
He shoots some anti-personnel torpedoes, hoping they’re enough to stop the Avengers.
“They’re not.”
Hah. I love when captions get sassy.
The Avengers soon are busting into the sub, breaking through bulkheads and coming for Plantman.
Plantman realizes that they’ll have him trapped in the control cabin in seconds. So he pulls the last resort lever that his silent partner told him to pull as a last resort.
Some manner of escape sphere forms around Plantman, launching him high into the stratosphere and capsizing the sub right on top of the Avengers.
I mean, they’re beefy. I’m sure they’ll be fine.
But no time to verify that, SCENE CHANGE.
Over on Central Park West, She-Hulk has carried Hawkeye all the way from Avengers’ Mansion to his apartment. On foot.
Dang! Mighty nice of her! Even Hawkeye points out that he could have gotten a cab.
(But do we believe that Hawkeye has money for a cab?)
After gently dumping Hawkeye on his couch, She-Hulk asks if he wants to have her stick around. She literally has nothing better to do today.
Hawkeye: “Will you get out of here and leave me alone!!”
She-Hulk huffs off in anger because this is a rude way to thank someone who helps you home.
Hawkeye even realizes that he shouldn’t have yelled “but I can’t stand to have anyone mother-hen me! Besides, I have things to do... important things!”
Yeah, Hawkeye does seem like the kind of guy who hates getting any help at all because men are self-reliant and junk. Toxic masculinityyyyyyy!
And the important things? I dunno! He calls his head of security workplace Cross Technological Enterprises and tells them to send a car for him.
That’s probably going to be a thing in another issue. God forbid it be a thing in another book. I’m not made of time. I’m still dreading West Coast Avengers where Hawkeye goes off and makes his own team. The jerk.
Okay, back to the plot.
Thor, Captain Marvel, and Starfox of course shake off a submarine imploding on their heads without much effort. Starfox is the most shaken by it. Guess the new guy isn’t used to submarine implosions lol.
Meanwhile, Plantman’s escape pod keeps escaping up, up, and away but mostly just up.
Then a prerecorded message from Plantman’s ‘silent partner’ and/or ‘mysterious benefactor’ plays.
Wizard: “Plant-Man! This is a recording. If you have been so stupid as to get yourself in a predicament where you needed to use the emergency handle, you are now hearing this message.”
“While I appreciated your aid in escaping prison, the equipment I gave you should be considered payment in full. I owe you nothing more than an explanation.”
“Thanks to my anti-gravity generators -- which you activated along with this module -- you will soon find yourself safely in orbit!”
Plantman: “In orbit!”
Wizard: “There, you will be of no further embarrassment to me or our ‘partnership’ as you so distastefully called it. You will be beyond harm... for as long as your oxygen holds out. Farewell!”
Oof. Ice cold.
Ice cold, the Wizard.
Captain Marvel phases through the pod floor to basically say the same thing.
Plantman begs her to save him from his own dumb decision making. She’s like huh look, I don’t really know about anti-gravity but I do have an idea.
Then she blows a hole in the side of the pod.
And the pressure difference blasts Plantman out of the pod, right through Captain Marvel who has turned into intangible energy.
Captain Marvel: “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”
HAH!
That was mean, Monica. I love it.
But as Plantman hurtles screaming toward the ground, Thor catches him and tells him to stop screaming beside.
Thor: “Cease your cowardly whining! The Avengers do not wantonly kill their foes... not even such as you!”
These days though... well... probably still not wantonly? Depending on how you define it? Maybe during War of Realms though. The kid gloves came off then.
Starfox is loving this by the way. The whole thing that just happened.
Starfox: “What grand sport! Yes, I think I’m going to enjoy being an Avenger!”
‘Ha ha we made that guy think he was going to die!’
Also, Plantman’s outfit looked green and purple in the sub. I guess it was the lighting because its just jolly green now. But its still a terrible outfit.
Meanwhile, back at Avengers’ mansion, Wasp is back from Tony Stark locating duty! She-Hulk is back from being angry at Hawkeye duty!
She-Hulk mentions that she took Hawkeye to his apartment and for a loudmouth, he has a really nice apartment.
She-Hulk: “I wish I could find a nice apartment, but I’m still getting lost in this town. I don’t know where to begin looking.”
Wasp: “Well, if you’re so set on getting a place of your own, why don’t I give you a hand?”
Wasp is going to fulfill her delayed promise to take She-Hulk apartment hunting! And hey, why not focus her efforts on a friend that will let her help?
So Wasp changes into street clothes (or since we see her shrink later, its more that she changed her Wasp outfit and put clothes over it, which is almost like getting dressed in street clothes) and takes Jen out on the town.
Apparently, the Daily Bugle has the largest section on rentals and real estate of any New York paper. I guess they need something aside from diatribes about Spider-Man to attract subscribers.
Ben Urich’s award winning investigative journalism can’t pay all the bills.
Because this is the same New York which frustrated Tigra, some idiot immediately starts hitting on She-Hulk at the newsstand.
Some idiot: “‘Ey, beeg mama! I love that green body paint! You need any help removing it? Huh?”
She-Hulk: “Stuff it, creep! Or better yet -- stuff you!”
And she puts the garbage man in the garbage can. Where he belongs. While Wasp literally looks the other way.
She-Hulk: “Sorry, Jan, I just don’t care for men with fresh mouths. This sort of thing would never happen in California.”
Wasp: “Oh, fer shure...”
That sounds like the polite way of saying ‘Doubt.’ Surely there are sexist jerks everywhere?
Sadly for the She-Hulk Apartment Hunt, her expectations are also a little LA centric. You’re just not going to find an affordable condo with a hot-tub in New York.
Wasp asks what She-Hulk has against the free rent at Avengers Mansion with its built-in sauna that they’ve apparently always had but never mentioned.
Avengers Mansion is real nice!
She-Hulk says she can’t get behind the idea of living where she works but as someone who works from home its actually highly recommended! Although, She-Hulk’s situation is more ‘firemen live in the firehouse’ so it lacks the ‘don’t have to wear pants to work’ aspect.
Then the apartment hunt is interrupted by an incoming crossover slash a stampede.
She-Hulk grabs a random panicking passerby out of the crowd and asks whats going on but he can’t give a good answer.
She-Hulk: “Hot dog! I was hoping something would happen to break up the monotony. So far, this afternoon has been a big, dull...” -THUD-
First, I love She-Hulk’s enthusiasm for punching.
Also, hey, who put thin air in She-Hulk’s way!
There’s some kind of invisible barrier right across the sidewalk.
She-Hulk instantly decides that the thing to do is to TEAR INTO THE PAVEMENT TO SEE HOW DEEP IT GOES.
Instead of, y’know, feeling to see how wide it stretches.
Wasp tries blasting thin air too but to no avail.
Despite She-Hulk reminding everyone that “at close range, your sting can knock down a wall!”
And when she really tries, a whole house.
She-Hulk: “Wasp... This is impossible! We’re Avengers! Nothing can stop us!”
Wasp: “She-Hulk... I’ve the strangest feeling it just did.”
And apparently: this is to be continued in THE ANNIHILATION GAMBIT! Which is a crossover with Fantastic Four!
Which means I actually need to pop over to an Avengers Annual first because despite running into the invisible wall (Sue, is that you?) the Avengers are doing stuff on the Moon before getting involved.
I dunno. I’ll see when I get to it.
And you will too! Provided you follow @essential-avengers! Also maybe like and reblog? Who can say.
#avengers#Plantman#the Wasp#Captain America#Thor#Captain Marvel#Monica Rambeau#she hulk#Starfox#Iron Man#Tony Stark#James Rhodes#we learn whats going on with iron man#starfox has a good day#hawkeye is a rude#essential avengers#essential marvel liveblogging
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♦▼ for clarence and ☼☯ for anthony woodville!
Asked via the Headcanon Meme: https://lady-plantagenet.tumblr.com/post/634584063141920769/headcanon-meme. Thank you darling! X (at least I sprinkled a bit of history in all this).
George Duke of Clarence
♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon
- One Hobby/Quirk headcanon -
According to household accounts and information about his education, George knew how to play the harp and the lute. I headcanon him as continuing with those hobbies well into his adulthood. I don’t know if it’s maybe the fact that George had far less presence in the battlefield than his brothers - only Barnet and Tewksbury he actually fought in and his troops are never on the main battle charts which indicates they were not the most important, he was given the largest retinue to lead to France but as we know, there was rather more talking than bloodshed there ahasjd. Or if it’s maybe the fact that his actions and phrases denote an unusually emotional man... but I always saw him as rather sensitive and that also reflecting in his hobbies. I also headcanon him as being rather particular with his clothing (exposed to great finery since the age of 12), and so relished spending hours badgering his tailor over the smallest details regarding colours, designs, patterns etc. At some points even Isabel gets a headache ahashj.
He also had great taste for elaborate architecture (historically, there were many designs he had in mind and renovations for Tutbury and Warwick castle, to make them less fortressy and more palatial but died before they could be completed), so I think that links. As for the harp and lute, I headcanon him as having great proefficiency in them but not interested in showing that off and so just playing when in his own homes and heard by very few people there. Not because he was modest or something (quite the contrary) but because he did not like to do anything competitively because he did not like being seen as bested by others, or worse being seen to fail because well.. pride and self-importance. He never participated in jousting for example, because he knew he could not handle the shame if he were beaten by the likes of Richard Woodville or Anthony or the score of prominent jousters. Also as a typical aristocrat, he never saw the point of having to ‘prove’ his gifts, nor work at them enough to be truly talented.
▼ - childhood headcanon
I’ve had this discussion at some point with a mutual about when George left Ireland, I think the conclusion was that he may have very well stayed there quite a bit, at least maybe until Richard III was born in Fotheringhay in 1452, or even later (for his own protection or as an enduring symbol of his father’s importance there and piece between Earls Ormond and Desmond, as his baptism was all about uniting those two godfathers). I have to look deeper into this but the truth is next to nothing is known of George’s life pre-1460.
I see his sister Margaret being with him until 1452 or so (I think Ashdowne-Hill put the possibility that Margaret accompanied their mother to Ireland), and treating him as her baby as four + year olds have been known to do, creating the link. But while she returned to England (most likely), he would stay there for a one more year or so, with the occasional visits from the godfathers for goodwill. And goodness, both James Butler 5th earl Ormond & Wiltshire and Thomas FitzGerald 7th Earl Desmond had something of a similar spirit to their godson: always up for a gallantry whether that be rebellion (a contemporary saying something similar regarding gallantry about pre-1469 George - I think it was Crowland), reputed handsomeness (with some vanity):
“Gregory records, at the First Battle of St Albans in 1455, Wiltshire "fought mainly with the heels, for he was frightened of losing his beauty" ahahaha idk why gives me some Clarence vibes
or personalities that attracted support, eager patrons. With the facts of an absent real father this headcanon, just sort of clicks whether it has any bearing in reality (yet I recall an Irish castle where he spent his early years in being mentioned, but forgot the name). I also headcanon him as having spent a part of his infant years with James FitzGerald around, though, he may have been a couple years older (birthdate not given). As they were god brothers and both from Yorkist families, of course this is the same James that gets executed under Edward’s name in 1467 (godfather Ormond gets executed after the battle of Towton). In addition to him, many other companions that were relatives and nephews of his godfathers I suppose would have been selected as the 5/6 year olds’ companions. I headcanon George as charming them all, leading to him being remembered fondly by the Irish because though records of his going there in his adult life contradict each other, he seemed to have left an impression somehow. Of course, all this attention and preening has contributed to his deluded self-image as a very very important man. I also headcanon him as picking up quite a bit of the native tongue, but like most young children, what is quickly learned is quickly forgotten.
Anthony Earl Rivers
☼ - appearance headcanon
When it comes to my story, I’m tempted to make him the ‘golden-haired’ knight that he tends to get depicted in fiction because thematically it drives home the whole George/Anthony foil thing we spoke about and intend to hint at.
But for me, this will always be my mental image of Anthony. With a very kind yet clever looking face, like in here. I also always headcanoned him as heavily resembling his sister, perhaps, because of their strong sibling bond (this depiction capture that too with the heart-shaped face, small thin nose, round eyes and cheekbones (come to think of it also the mouth) .
Like in his contemporary depiction [Him presenting the Dictes and Saying of the Philosophers] I see him as having a warm brown eyes and light brown hair, but with a twinge of auburn (whereas Elizabeth Woodville is more full on red-gold). Because of his keeping with a hair-shirt underneath, I tend to see him as rather thin and tall (nearer to Edward and Margaret’s height than Richard or George’s).
࿊ - likes/dislikes headcanon
- Likes - (aside from what we know: philosophy, poetry, literature, religion, tournaments)
As a result of: That bit in one of his works where he (with great wit and subtlety) calls Plato out for his misogyny, him being a reader of Christine de Pizan (the only man at that time who I can recall), his strong relationship with his mother, sister and friendship with Margaret of Burgundy... I’ve headcanoned him as having a deeper appreciation and ‘like’ (more like respect) for womenhood than most of the others. And with an interest in the discourse that must have been going on post-De Pizan and Joan of Arc.
I also have this weird headcanon of him getting an insane fascination with Wales, the people, the Celtic remnants in its folklore - that is, once he establishes there with his nephew. And tried to absorb as much of it as possible. Particularly because he strikes me as one who though a great appreciator of beauty, is more attached to the natural, less ornate rather than the florid and goldeness of the london courts. As he was a well-traveled man this isn’t so far-fetched I suppose. I also headcanon him as a massive fan of Arthuriana (he did after all have all the features of chivalry) and would see himself as a Merlin to Prince Edward’s Arthur.
- Dislikes - (aside from war apparently)
I always saw him as taking a profound dislike to Edward’s debauchery later in his reign, especially, when it pertained infidelity to his sister. As somewhat of a stoic (not to say emotionless or robotic), he obviously did not say anything about it, but the disillusionment welled up in him, and he would find any excuse to not have to deal with it. By the time it came to leave for his guardianship, he was grateful for not having to see it. Of course, there remains mutual respect between him and Edward, during his pilgrimage I headcanon him as praying for Edward’s soul and for him to be guided back.
I always headcanoned him as never quite clicking with his wife. For some unknown reason e.g. perhaps she was a bit ignorant, dull or cold? We know very little about that marriage and it was quite brief nonetheless. There were no children and we never hear of them ever being in the same place, or references to mourning etc. Of course, since marriage is a sacrament and a way to connect with god, he feels a bit regretful about it, only in later life to realise, that some men are like Gawain, better suited to bachelorhood. But while respectful of women, few attain to his marianistic expectations (partly stemming from the image his sister projects). Overall, a dislike for this sort of inner-conflict.
#🍷❤️#to everyone: this meme is still open ☺️☺️#and here you have it somehow I ended up writing you a novel#can you tell how much I feel the need to write something#masters apps and schoolwork begone#george of clarence#anthony woodville#I profusely apologise#I’ll add the read more function tommorow#and grammar check
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💜New Beginning💜
💜New Beginning💜
Levi paced as the screams continued in the other room. He felt helpless. A seasoned soldier, stronger than anyone and he was powerless to help. His fate was left in the hands of Hanji’s medical team and Gods he wasn’t quite sure he believed in.
He paused during one particularly horrid cry of agony. A cold sweat was starting to form on his brow, shudder running down his spine. Y/N was in so much pain. He could feel her struggle out in the corridor. He clenched his fists against the overwhelming urge to rush in that room. A voice startled him from his inner turmoil.
“Captain?” He turned to look at Eren. “Y/N will be okay. She’s tough.” The boy looked nervously at the door as particularly loud curse blared out. Y/N was using language that shocked all but Levi in her pain.
“She better be.” The alternative wasn’t an option. Looking around, he saw the faces of the people they spent the most time with, waiting hopefully. He appreciated his squad being here with him more than he could express. The fact that his subordinates were there was probably the only thing keeping Levi on his feet at that moment. He sighed, thinking back over the events that had put him in this position.
~~~~~Flashback
Levi couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he had accepted this as inevitable. As he impatiently ripped at the buckles to his harness, he realized it had been years since he had felt this out of control.
Y/N pulled his head down for another hot open mouthed kiss as she writhed underneath him, perched on his bed. She was already bare to her undergarments as she unbuttoned his shirt. Slipping her hands underneath the soft fabric to feel the warm skin beneath it.
What had started out as a lecture on safety after a particularly foolish stunt Y/N had pulled, had turned into a tangled mess of limbs and desire. Levi finally managed unbuckle the straps and could have shouted with joy when he managed to pull his pants down. Free himself from the restrictive material, he hurriedly slid her panties down and threw them over his shoulder in his haste.
Her fingernails dig into his skin as they come together. Rushed and needy, they pull at each other as they take what they craved. The feeling of them fused together, the tight grip her body had on his, overwhelmed him. Barely holding on to make sure she had found her pleasure, he let go, riding a wave of bliss as he closed his eyes.
~~~~~
He had purposefully shied away from talking to her. Ashamed of giving in to his baser desires and even more so for wanting to again, he ignored it. Pushed their encounter aside as they dealt with the life and death issues of being a Scout. It wasn’t too hard to do, considering they were being hunted at the time.
She had seemed to understand and acted like that night never happened, treating him no differently than she had before. While he appreciated her not chasing after him like a love sick puppy, in the dark of the night he feared that maybe he had disappointed her. That she had found it or him lacking. The time he had finally found the balls to do something like talk about feelings, Y/N was tipsy after Historia’s coronation. So he walked away and shoved everything he was going to say into a corner of his heart.
~~~~~
The day she told him, he was in utter shock. And in complete asshole fashion, he reacted badly.
“Repeat that, Y/N?” His grey eyes narrowed on hers, standing before her, disbelieving.
“I’m pregnant.”
All coherent thoughts ceased and he spit out the worst thing he could have said in that moment.
“You think it’s mine?” His head jerked to the side from the force of her hand. His eyes widened on her retreating figure. The door to his office slammed behind her.
He went and sat behind his desk, her words recycling in his head. The look of hurt and anger that flashed across her face as she drew her hand back. The stiffness in her spine as she marched out of the room. She hadn’t asked him for anything. She hadn’t screamed or cried or begged him to believe her, she had slapped him.
He put his hand to his cheek. The welts from her fingers were still raised on his pale skin. She had belted him good, but he knew he deserved it. Y/N wasn’t the type to sleep around, he spent enough time with her to know that their one night together was the first time in years for either one of them. His sigh was heavy with remorse.
~~~~~
For weeks, Y/N ignored him. Except for when he gave her an order, she pretended he didn’t exist. The friendly, yet respectful manner she usually interacted with him was gone. He hadn’t understood just how much he had enjoyed what they had, until his ass was placed firmly back into the superior category. Unwilling to use his rank to force her to talk to him about an obviously private issue, his frustration mounted as she went to another room after he entered.
He finally went to her quarters and knocked. He wasn’t going to leave until he had at least apologized. Levi had to stick his foot in the door when she realized it was him to keep her from shutting him out. He pushed the door closed after entering, watching again as she walked away from him.
When she had put some distance between them, she turned around and assumed an at ease position, using a vacant stare as she looked over his head slightly. “Yes, Captain?”
“Y/N, please, it’s Levi right now.” He took in her causal appearance. The short sleeping shorts showcased her toned legs and her tight tank top clung to her unbound breasts. He willed his body to behave as he looked at the future mother of his child.
“No thank you, Captain. Now, what is it you would like? I’m off duty at the moment, so......” He ignored the implied suggestion that he leave. He stepped closer to her, kept advancing until she was backed against the edge of her bed. When he reached out to touch her shoulder, she pulled away.
“Y/N, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Her stance relaxed slightly at his muttered apology. She had softened her ‘Don’t fucking touch me’ look, and Levi used it to his advantage, sitting on her bed and pulling her down beside him.
He had spent long minutes awkwardly explaining himself. Apologizing in low tones. He felt slightly better about things when she had finally looked him in the eyes as he asked about her plans for the pregnancy. The fact that she felt the same way about terminating it, relieved him.
It had pissed him off when she suggested he didn’t have to be involved. He had never known his father, believing at one point that it was his maternal uncle after his mother had passed away. He would not do that to this child, his child. The anger at her suggestion must have been written on his face, because she had quickly amended it to not having to be involved with her. He hadn’t wanted that either.
~~~~~
It seemed a bit unusual to begin dating someone when you were expecting a child with them. But that was exactly what they had decided to do. Never having been in a relationship, it had been a sharp learning curve for Levi. He found that he enjoyed the give and take of a being with another person, letting down those walls built over the years and heartache. It wasn’t easy, it was perhaps the toughest thing he would ever have to do, but he worked at it.
Ironic that he could face overwhelming odds and charge to what he believed to be his death, but sharing his tightly guarded emotions put him into a panic. Y/N understood that. She had been around him long enough to know when he just needed to be left alone and when he needed her to push through the obstacles.
Quicker than he would have ever imagined, the term love kept popping up in his head. Dismissed for longer than it probably should have been, the words came naturally the first time he had felt the little life inside the round swell of her belly kick against his hand. She tried to brush aside the comment, thinking it was directed to the ever growing child, but he had pressed his lips against hers and kept his eyes focused on hers as he repeated the words.
Horrified when tears came to her eyes, the sensation was quickly replaced with joy when she repeated the words back to him and threw her arms around him.
~~~~~
The day she moved into his quarters, he had realized just how well this woman knew him. She had meticulously scrubbed everything that was brought into their now shared rooms. Taking care to keep the area tidy, Y/N respected his own personal items as she integrated hers to the space. The resulting atmosphere was homey, and Levi couldn’t deny he liked the sight of her possessions next to his.
During the day, they still adhered to the Captain/subordinate relationship they had maintained for years. While physically unable to keep to the rigorous training regiment that most Scouts had, Y/N was still an active member of the military. Levi had personally created a routine that would keep his child safe while allowing the exercise Y/N needed to recover quickly. Mostly, Y/N had been confined to desk duty, filing and filling out the ever present river of paperwork that the Survey Corps seemed to operate on.
Nights were the best. Their duties had been left outside their quarters, symbolic, but significant. They were free to just be Levi and Y/N for awhile. He found he enjoyed getting to discover her own quirks, seeing a side of her that no one else did. Sleeping beside her, or trying to, he listened to her breathing as her peaceful expressions calmed his nightmares. The nights she slept on his chest were his favorite. Her swollen belly resting on his hips, the baby periodically making their presence known, she curled up in the crook of his arm. Her hand thrown around his waist and her leg intertwined with his. Those were the nights his sleep was dreamless as he held his family close.
~~~~~Present Time
The room beyond the door had grown quiet for a long moment. Levi felt his heart falling to his feet. ‘No, God no, you can’t take this from me.’ Was all he could chant in his mind as he worried that the glimmer of happiness he had experienced had just been snuffed out.
A high pitched shrill cry floated out to the hallway. Healthy lungs of an angry child, mad at being brought into the world they now lived in. Levi’s shoulders slumped in relief. The sounds of activity had resumed, but he heard Y/N’s voice. Fighting to keep his composure, he stood still as the kids of his squad celebrated around him.
The door opened minutes later and Hanji stood in it, gowned and gloved. Her lone eye wide and excited as she yelled out “Come on, Levi!”
Rushing into the room, he stopped by the bed. Y/N was sitting up, holding an impossibly tiny bundle of blankets. Tearing her adoring gaze from her arms, she looked up at Levi, tears and love shining in her bright eyes. “It’s a boy, Levi. We have a son.”
He looked down at the inky black hair that covered his son’s head. Tiny features that looked a bit mashed. He supposed that was natural, considering he had just pushed his way into the world, fighting to be free of his mother’s petite frame. The baby’s eyes were closed, but he wondered if he would have his silver eyes, or his mother’s eye color.
He couldn’t look away from the sight of Y/N holding their child. It was beautiful, something to be stored in his memory to keep safe. He leaned over and kissed her head, whispering “Thank you.” As he cautiously reached a hand out to touch the small human he had helped create.
His hand seemed impossibly large against his son. Fear gripped him for a moment, his strength and roughness might hurt him. Y/N sensed his doubt, and placed her hand on his.
“You won’t hurt him, you would never hurt him. Let me show you how to hold him.”
Sitting beside her, Levi studied her movements intently as she carefully transitioned his son into his arms. She sat back and looked at the pair, her eyes welling up again as the love she felt in that moment overwhelmed her. The strongest man she knew was cradling their child with the upmost care, holding him as if he were made from spun sugar. The all encompassing love etched on his face in that moment was breathtaking as he traced a finger around the baby’s face.
“Have you decided?” Her question brought his eyes back up to look at her tired yet stunningly beautiful face. She was giving him the privilege of naming their son. He had known what he wanted, and she had seemed perfectly happy with any of his choices when they had discussed them.
“Farlan Erwin Ackerman.” He announced looking down at the namesake for the two best friends he had lost.
“I love it. Honoring old friends in our new beginning.” Y/N smiled as she leaned over. Wrapping an arm around Levi and their newly named son, she pressed a kiss to Levi’s neck. “I love you.”
His eyes closed in acceptance. He had more than he ever dreamed of. It truly was his new beginning. “I love you too, both of you.”
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Why We Rise (A Meditation on Humanity)
by Adam Kenichi Wekarski
The time has come for me to write about Christopher Nolan’s Batman Trilogy (and why it is the most important cinematic franchise of our time). *Please purchase & view the franchise in it’s entirety prior to reading this independent essay. Spoilers are No Fun for Anyone. SUPPORT The STORYTELLERS*
Although it’s a story derived from a comic book, this is not a movie franchise to be taken lightly (or for granted for that matter). Christopher Nolan’s film, “Memento” was the first work he had accomplished that I had ever seen (back in the Blockbuster days - ahem, VHS RULES!) and it is still spinnin’ my mind after all this time. Christopher Nolan ALWAYS delivers some form of ground-breaking excellence in his work - his ‘Dark Knight’ Franchise is no exception.
When one thinks of Batman, it’s very easy to consider the various forms (literature, animation, cinema, video games, etc) of said character (God Bless You, Adam West! R.I.P., Good Sir!). SO many INCREDIBLE & [BEYOND] TALENTED folks have, not only performed as the character, but have helped in shaping this character’s Monumental & Positive Imprint on contemporary society (worldwide).
I still believe Christian Bale is one of the most under-appreciated performers of our time. I first saw him in the Dark Comedy, “American Psycho” (DUDE! Holy Smack-a-RONi! Totally Bonkers & Viciously frightening). I still can’t believe he did not receive an Academy Award nomination for that performance (for shame, HollyWould). As much as I love Tim Robbins (SHAWSHANK, BaBY!), Christian Bale is one of the greatest actors of all time (100% WITHOUT A DOUBT). He plays Bruce Wayne PERFECTLY (TOTALLY the BEST Bruce Wayne OF ALL TIME! DONE! NO ARGUMENT! END-ALL-BE-ALL..”..Been there, Done that - got the album, Bought the Tee-shirt..NEXT” (Ricky Gervais, The Office [UK]). CHRISTIAN BALE DESERVED AN ACADEMY AWARD FOR “The Dark Knight Rises” - I’M SAYING IT - HE DID SUCH A PERFECT PERFORMANCE in (Yeah ALL Caps) this entire franchise. I need to address that because so many folks seemed to be swept-up in their own distractions as viewers (Yeah we get it, he disguised his voice with a growl - get over it, ya’ll). He seems to be a good person (‘seems’ being the operative word) & I’ve read about his efforts in his life off-screen (You are a Good Man, Sir) when the cameras are not around. I have a belief that it’s good for people to appreciate those ‘moments-of-truth’ more often (just one person’s opinion, take it or leave it).
Speaking of ‘moments-of-truth’ - This story (spanning across three EPIC films) is the ultimate moment-of-truth for Sir Christopher Nolan (Why Not?; He actually is CBE apparently; Respect) and his AMAZING Production TEAM’s collective efforts. So many people put their well-being on the line to make these stories happen (some even, their lives, Rest in Peace) and I believe this franchise deserves ALL of the Success & Recognition & Praise (and honestly, Time) for the awe-inspiring efforts put forth (in regards to cinematic storytelling). This is a franchise for the fans (due to how well it honors the source material & simultaneously manages to elevate the art-form).
Bruce Wayne is one of the most important modern characters of our time. Not since the days of Jesus Christ, himself, has there even been someone who sparked a universal impact (sorry ‘Supes’ - You & Ol’ ‘Batsy’ are Tied in my book) upon average people worldwide. Granted - Bruce Wayne is NO Jesus (there can only be one), however, his life’s journey is a true Test of Faith, which is a universal lesson that I firmly believe Jesus Christ was attempting to spread in his message of good faith towards one another.
Bruce Wayne (played by Christian Bale & Gus Lewis, respectively), as it is now [mostly known], was born an heir to The Wayne Family, an age-old empire in modern society (Gotham City, U.S.A.). In Christopher Nolan’s particular take on this (now-classic) SuperHero story - Reality is the cinematic setting.
“Batman Begins” is Nolan’s homage to Richard Donner’s “Superman”, having been THE standard for comic book movies (since the late 1970’s if I’m not mistaken). Having obviously been a fan of Donner’s work (Gee, who isn’t?) - it’s an obvious source-of-influence for the first installment in Christopher Nolan’s Perfect Epic.
When I had first discovered the news that Christopher Nolan was Warner Bros. Studios’ choice for a brand new Batman reboot - I have to admit I was VERY optimistic. After having seen “Memento”, and his work with that incredible team - I was very, very optimistic that for ONCE the Batman universe was going to be actually depicted like it is in the comic books (at least the ‘80s Batman Comics - Hello Dark & Gritty Vibes). Considering the mental intensity of “Memento” (and how linear-storytelling-need-not-apply) - I was absolutely curious to see how well the story would finally be done on-screen (with all due respect to Tim Burton & Joel Schumacher & All previous efforts achieved in the known story-telling community). After all is said and done, this franchise is a ‘Grand Slam’.
Christopher Nolan’s version of Milton “Bill” Finger’s (Bob Kane took all of the credit for Bill’s work; for shame) story of Bruce Wayne/Batman is the most inspiring work I’ve seen achieved on the concept (and characters) to this day. With the initial tone set in the first film - we find a young Bruce Wayne as a child - simply playing in the Wayne family’s garden with his best (& childhood) friend (and one of the most important characters in the franchise): Rachel Dawes (played by Katie Holmes, Emma Lockhart, and Maggie Gyllenhaal, respectively). Bruce & Rachel establish the innocence of childhood (and of our main protagonist) with the playful phrase, “Finders Keepers” which is followed by young Bruce falling into an old dried-out well (which then traps him into a slight crevice, filled with Bats).
As we discover in this story, the symbol of Batman has a rather deeper meaning to Bruce Wayne than what had been initially expected (unless if you’re a fan of the comics). When the first film starts to take form, we find Bruce Wayne lost in the depths of ‘hell’ as an adult man. Having been an heir to a Family’s Kingdom (so-to-speak), Bruce Wayne had lost his Mother & Father; Martha & Thomas Wayne (SUCH Good People) at a tragically-early age, having their lives taken by a lost soul in the dark of night (a reality known, all-too-well, by our own collective experiences as a contemporary society).
Martha & Thomas Wayne establish the core values that help shape Bruce Wayne as an Individual. Their Leadership, their knowledge, their wisdom, their love (their faith). All of their finest attributes shine a light on how the community - the city of Gotham (and their actions as people) help shape said community. Without their Faith, Bruce Wayne’s immediate world probably wouldn’t have even been established for him (perhaps). It is that faith that is the driving force of this franchise, and the greatest tragedy of this film is, indeed, the blatant & cold-blooded murder of Martha & Thomas Wayne. Ya know, they were really good people in terms of their contributions to their household & community & their lives, and they truly cared about their impact on the world (in a greater sense).
With such care, they made important choices (that had an effect on everyone in Gotham, regardless of outlook). Choices that made a necessary difference in, not only their home, but in their overall world. Gotham may be fictional, but I will let the fantasy play and I will acknowledge the tremendous amount of detail put into these stories that went unnoticed in the initial ‘life’ of this franchise’s release. Having said that - Unless if memory serves inaccurate, this film received a lot of unwarranted criticism for the realistic depiction of modern violence (due to the UNGodly public shooting(s) that have been taking place in our country; I acknowledge the real-life tragedies, but also acknowledge the importance of artistic vision). I say unwarranted due to the fact that Christopher Nolan managed to hold up a mirror and we need to pay close attention (and look beyond the glamour & simulated violence), and this was accomplished well-before Todd Phillips’ incredible film “Joker” had been produced (which drew plenty of inspiration from Nolan’s signature style and Heath Ledger’s actual development of said character; Joker’s Journal).
At the core of this story is Faith.
Faith is what was instilled in Martha & Thomas Wayne (and their lessons with Bruce as a boy). Alfred Pennyworth (played Beautifully by Sir Michael Caine in a Nomination-worthy performance for Best Supporting Actor in my humble opinion) is the reinforcement to protect the Wayne Family’s Honor & Good Name. On the surface, Mr. Pennyworth is Bruce Wayne’s Butler, however, when he’s not maintaining the Wayne fortune, he is ‘the guiding light’ (no pun intended) in Bruce Wayne’s Journey (despite the efforts of various opposition). While Rutger Hauer (rest his soul; “BLIND FURY”!!! YES!) had set the tone for what was to come later in young Bruce Wayne’s life (at the funeral for Martha & Thomas Wayne) - it becomes abundantly clear that Bruce Wayne has quite the journey ahead of him in his life (with plenty of whom have pre-developed plans & agendas to seize Wayne Enterprises for their own gain).
Bruce Wayne, born of a Mother & Father, heir to “the throne” (as it were), and thriving billionaire, one day decides to leave it all behind. It’s a moment of internal crisis for our protagonist due to the severely traumatic act of witnessing the death of his own parents (while almost being murdered himself). I know a lot of people think Kal-El (aka ‘Superman’, aka ‘Clark Kent’) is the end-all be-all of Superheroes (myself included), however, after a retrospective look back at Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight Trilogy it becomes abundantly clear just how much credit this franchise did NOT receive from the critics & the artistic community (Hi, Academy. I’m lookin’ at ya’ll). Despite the worldwide acclaim, I believe this franchise was well ahead of it’s time in terms of the most important aspect of the entire achievement - The Story.
This is a franchise fully-devoted to the story and that is a significant contributor to the success of this version of Batman. I grew up watching old reruns on TV of Adam West & Burt Ward going around and ‘CLEANING-SOME-CLOCKS’ as it were (POW! ZAM! KLAM! CHOWDAH!), and I always hold that version near-and-dear to my heart because I still think the early 1960’s version of Batman was really fun & really awesome & an absolute delight. Plain & simple. ..Granted - as time continued and the characterization of Bruce Wayne (and his alter-ego “Batman”; His Armor; His Protective Shield) had advanced & developed into a new ground (conceptually-speaking). The core values of who Bruce Wayne is, where he comes from, and Why he does [what he does] did not truly become profoundly-realized for me until I’d say when the Animated series (1990’s! DUDE still one of the best Animated Series I’ve ever seen; like ‘a fine wine of cartoons’). “The Mask of The Phantasm” is still one of the best Batman stories I’ve ever seen - Such an incredible origin story for Bruce Wayne - and definitely one of the best animated, full-length features I had ever seen as a kid (Not to discount Tim Burton’s gothic-induced-dream-like version of the knight’s tale).
With Christopher Nolan’s contribution to the overall storyline of Batman - we truly have a Masterpiece Trilogy before us (as audience members). Nolan’s take on Batman is truly like no other (even surpassing efforts that preceded the franchise) in that he actually provides a glimpse into what it would look like if the fantasy actually became a reality. Christopher Nolan achieves that goal (Ten-fold) with this trilogy.
In the first film - what we know about Batman becomes hyper-realized with the emphasis on Bruce Wayne’s life in modern-day America (Gotham City being the quintessential metropolitan All-American city). An America that has succumbed to an overall tone of darkness & hopelessness (with the reality of tangible corruption & streets of truly deadly conditions) which has reached a pinnacle-of-suffering for the good people of Gotham (and perhaps, rippled outward into the rest of the world).
Jim Gordon (played PERFECTLY by Gary Oldman, one of the finest performing actors ever to be on screen), a symbol of Gotham’s defeated Law Enforcement, patrols the streets of Gotham City each night. Jim Gordon is one of the key individuals that Bruce Wayne reaches out towards (in his pre-Knight regalia) in the first stages of ‘Batman Begins’. Jim Gordon was the person who wrapped the coat around (a young) Bruce Wayne’s shoulders after his parents had been needlessly-murdered right before his very eyes. Jim Gordon was the one who kneeled to Bruce’s level, acknowledged his loss, and gave him that moment of kindness & warmth & honest-to-God decency. He acknowledged Bruce’s sorrow & loss with grace. He gave him a moment of simple human decency & kindness for the sake of kindness itself.
Jim Gordon’s kind gesture is merely a moment in time, which made all the difference for a young kid who just needed someone to simply be there for him. A moment that showed Bruce Wayne that Goodness & Human Decency can & does still exist in the world despite a traumatically-life-changing tragedy. Jim Gordon’s simple, nearly effortless act, is a sign that people Do honor good faith (and people who truly deserve it) and the good Do get rewarded.
I really like the character Bruce Wayne. I think he’s a better character than most that I’ve ever seen, especially since he actually has character. It’s a shame that people can not see beyond the surface to find the deeper meaning of this story. Bruce Wayne’s [incredible] journey takes place all over the world. When we find him in ‘..Begins’, he is locked up in the ominous mountains of Bhutan. His home now a desolate wasteland of an existence due to his loss. His tragedy (despite Jim Gordon’s act of kindness) had lead him astray and brought him across the other part of the world (only to discover what it truly means to suffer in poverty & hunger & pain & strife & darkness without any means of comfort). As the story unfolds, it becomes clear that Bruce’s path is the ‘path-of-most-resistance.’ Rather than succumb to a frivolous, meaningless, and hollow existence - Bruce Wayne took the path rarely taken. He chose his own path, to earn his own personal truth, his own story to be lived & known (and eventually discovered by Gotham City).
When Bruce meets an unusual individual by the name of ‘Ducard’ (aka Ra’s al Ghul; aka Liam Neeson; Also played simultaneously by the honorable Ken Watanabe, respectively) in his own ‘personal hell’, Ducard feeds into Bruce’s fall from the path of grace (and his spiritual confusion). Ra’s al Ghul/Ducard is only interested in one thing: controlling Bruce Wayne. As Ra’s al Ghul is the quintessential ‘Handler’, or ‘Hypnotist’ of Bruce Wayne in the training period for Bruce Wayne’s spiritual journey - it becomes evident with each effort from Wayne that Ra’s al Ghul represents The Devil (aka ‘The Prince of Darkness’, ‘Satan’, ‘Lucifer’; The ‘Shadow Side’ of Saturn; See “Yikes!”; See “YOWZA”; See “Hide Yo Kids, Hide Yo Wife”; No Disrespect To The Coven; See Not My Lord; See God Protect Me).
From the moment we first-see Ra’s al Ghul - he is shrouded in darkness - lurking in the shadows within each unseen corner of the world - the proverbial serpent of the shadows (so-to-say). In a manner of speaking, Ra’s al Ghul is merely one of many faces throughout the story that showcase the forces of darkness in this particular cinematic legacy (from the depths of darkness, here to possess the living). Ra’s al Ghul attempts to indoctrinate Bruce Wayne (in Bad Faith) in the Bhutanese abyss; a wasteland for the damned (and where the death of hope thrives amidst the stone-prison-walls). Despite Ra’s al Ghul’s efforts - Bruce Wayne not only proves to be the most-prominent under-study of the cult (while being initiated into a secret society; a clandestine fraternity; a subversive order of assassins following an ancient practice (unknown & unseen by the blissful light of day).
Bruce Wayne’s prominence during his training cycle with ‘The League of Shadows’ (an appropriate title) shows us that he surpasses even Ra’s al Ghul’s expectations: showing how the student becomes the teacher (by upholding an authentic approach to having a Personal Moral Code & Justice & Ethical Values). Bruce Wayne is not only faster, stronger, and smarter than Ra’s al Ghul - Bruce Wayne is also wiser. Due to Wayne’s parents (and his friendships) he truly is ‘the shining example’ of true justice that Ra’s al Ghul has yet to achieve in life (due to his obsessive wrath).
Having destroyed the League of Shadows’ initiation grounds & temple of darkness - Bruce Wayne LITERALLY SAVES RA’S AL GHUL’S LIFE. ‘True Colors’ does not even begin to define such a moment for our protagonist (that’s a true sign of Mercy).
Despite Bruce Wayne saving Ra’s al Ghul’s life, afterwards the dude STILL tries to come back and kill Bruce AND Gotham City (Showing how The Devil has No Mercy for Anything, Anyone, or Anywhere and is just flat-out unwilling to acknowledge when something good actually does happen). Granted, at the end of “Batman Begins” we discover how Martha and Thomas Wayne were murdered as a direct result of Ra’s al Ghul & The League of Shadows (and their hatred for all things Gotham City & Western Civilization). It’s a diabolical reveal that the devil holds nothing sacred in the sanctity of human life. The devil will literally kill an angel after having been saved by said angel. In fact, Bruce Wayne’s own personal brush with death is (tragically) a common concern of not only Alfred, but Lucius Fox (played exquisitely by one Morgan Freeman), a former Board-Member & former colleague of Thomas Wayne (prior to his passing).
Bruce shows us that good people typically make a lot of good friends and have good people looking out for one’s best interest (no matter their walk of life). The most awe-inspiring truth of Bruce Wayne/Batman is that his ‘best interest’ is preserving & honoring the good faith of his community and the people in his life (including his ancestors, mind-you, as well as the herculean guidance of one Alfred Pennyworth). Without friends - life goes nowhere - that’s a universal truth. Bruce Wayne nearly died so many times in this trilogy and I don’t think people appreciate that aspect of these movies. This is an individual who literally put his life on the line to save the soul of the city he loves (wanting nothing other than a good, normal, & happy life). I know people only fixate on ‘the How’, but I think ‘the Why’ is the most important element of Bruce Wayne’s fictional example.
Bruce Wayne (as all of us) exists for a reason. His life (albeit fictional) does have an important purpose in the grand scheme of things (as one puts it).
Of course, this reason is emphasized (more & more) by his best friend, Rachel Dawes (among others). It’s a shame that Katie Holmes did not portray Rachel Dawes in both of the first two films, however, I found it to be very impressive [just] how smoothly Maggie Gyllenhaal performed as the character. It’s one of the rare instances in which a character is portrayed by two different performers who both managed to bring an equal amount of dignity & respect to said character. Katie Holmes & Maggie Gyllenhaal should both be applauded for their contributions & performance(s) as the grown-up portrayal of Rachel Dawes.
Rachel Dawes is the positive-female-influence in Bruce Wayne’s life (complimentary to that of Alfred Pennyworth’s positive-male-influence; or non-gender-specific-neutral-influence? Sure, why not) that is necessary to develop his respect & honor towards women (which is a necessary element of chivalry). Chivalry is not dead in America: The examples set before us can be found within our own real-life society (I shall go into that more later..).
More important than Rachel Dawes’ positive influence on Bruce Wayne is her genuine friendship (since their childhood). Rachel is not interested in taking advantage of Bruce or using him for her own personal gain. Rachel Dawes genuinely cares about Bruce Wayne and how well the quality of his life (as well as the life of the community) have grown. Rachel Dawes shows Bruce what is occurring in the streets of Gotham on a daily basis. Rachel is living, breathing, working, and seeing what has become of Gotham City - a limping giant of a once-prominent-city (Modern-Day America in a nutshell). Rachel Dawes reminds Bruce Wayne of the importance of Good People Taking Ownership of One’s Community. She reminds him that life is not only about one’s own personal pain, but alas, the collective pain of which a community must endure & resolve (as a said community) with good faith; “It’s not about who you are underneath, it’s what you do that defines you.”
In the second act of Nolan’s Cinematic Epic, “The Dark Knight” - Bruce Wayne encounters the tangible result of Newton’s Third Law: for every action there is an equal (or greater) reaction; hence ‘The Joker’ (played enormously by the late Heath Ledger; Rest in Peace).
The Joker is the response to Bruce Wayne’s actions in the first act, and in every way, he is Bruce Wayne’s exact opposite (albeit opposites, their life paths are balancing on the same proverbial axis of existence). Bruce Wayne is a reflection of light while The Joker is a product of darkness (Negative Energy, Pessimism, Hate, Evil, Unhappiness, Pain, Suffering, Misery, Torment, Violence, & Trauma). While Batman is the answer to corrupt forces in Gotham City - The Joker is the reaction to The Bat-Man.
The Joker is the continuation of opposing forces attempting to infiltrate Bruce Wayne’s life & community (as would a specter in the shadows, a spider in the darkest reaches of lunacy; a.k.a. the absence of faith, the inversion of angels; i.e. Demons, Demonic Entities, Dark Deities, etc). The Joker represents everything evil in society - everything sick, everything sad, everything hurt. To The Joker (and the fools before him) - society is an infestation, a plague, a result of toxicity & corruption (especially the light of which darkness cannot fathom). Batman is the antithesis to Joker’s Chaos. Batman is the collective honor & balance of civility & justice & good faith quantified into one symbolic rogue.
Heath Ledger’s performance of Joker was nothing short of awe-inspiring artistry & workmanship (WorkPERSONship?). His passing was a needless tragedy and although his performance garnered him numerous accolades - I wish he did not have to die in order to attain it (It should have been him accepting the award - it should have been him). Without a doubt, an equal to Joaquin Phoenix’s performance (if not Superior) - I still acknowledge Heath Ledger’s ground-breaking performance as a perfect triumph of Acting (although I think the character is absolutely distorted on all accounts; despite Joker’s persuasive wit).
Many people like to compare Joaquin Phoenix & Heath Ledger’s performance(s) as The Joker (folks compare everything in life), and I think both performances stand strongly on equal ground. Total Perfection. No doubt about it - and one kinda goes with the other if you were to align the vision side-by-side. Of course I love me some Jack Nicholson in Tim Burton’s “Batman” - I think he gave an undeniably frightening & charismatic performance just as Ledger & Phoenix (proof of the character’s universal & artistic appeal). Although Heath Ledger’s performance shall always be praised as a definitive milestone in Acting on Film - I still think the character is a twisted f**k (pardon my American).
Not only does Joker attempt to destroy Bruce Wayne’s personal Faith, but also everyone he cares about in his life, and everyone in the entire city of Gotham, USA. The pitiful tragedy of Joker’s existence is the sad truth that he lacks good faith in not only himself, but the people of Gotham, and the one individual who is genuinely trying to make a good difference in the world: Bruce Wayne.
It is a tragedy & a disgrace to humankind that Rachel Dawes & Harvey Dent (played by the Always-Excellent Aaron Eckhart) died in vain (as Thomas & Martha before them). It’s a sin that the Joker did what he did to everyone in Gotham City. It’s unGodly that so many human beings had to lose their lives, needlessly, just because of one individual’s own loss of innocence, and more specific, his loss of personal faith in his life (and in the world, of which, we live). The reason why Joker is dangerous is because he is the quintessential ‘mass shooter.’ He is the terrorist. He is the result of a society that has forgotten him. He is the reason why so many people struggle & suffer in contemporary society - not because he caused it, but because he fed into it - preying on the life force of humanity & destroying the efforts of truly good people who kept striving to save the soul of humanity (within the framework of a struggling eco-system).
If Bruce Wayne did not have friends he would have been dead in the first act of the story - that is a fact. When Dr. Jonathan (Not ‘Frasier’) Crane (aka ‘The Scarecrow’) had attacked Batman (in ‘Begins’) with the weaponized hallucinogens, Bruce Wayne was almost killed. If it was not for Alfred Pennyworth & Lucius Fox, Bruce would have been dead in the streets of Gotham. The consistent importance of Friendship is quite evident when thinking of Bruce Wayne’s network of acquaintances (both in ‘high’ & ‘low’ places) in the city of Gotham. This also applies in the opposite, with Bruce becoming an important (and powerful) friend to certain individuals of Gotham City (in return).
Friendship is a universal quality of humanity that should be cherished & honored. Friendship, like everything, requires effort. Bruce Wayne’s life requires effort even though he is a “billionaire playboy” - he still has struggles just like anyone else, and he shares the struggle with his friends (since they became a sort of surrogate family; more like extended-family; legal & spiritual guardians). Bruce Wayne is a fictional example that no one is free from life’s struggle and life’s personal challenges & lessons (no matter the ‘advantages’ or ‘upbringing’). It’s a sign of brilliance on behalf of the conceptual team behind the vision of The Dark Knight Trilogy. I know a lot of people focus on the action sequences and the drama of the theatrical dance of Light & Dark play out on screen in the form of the Batman & the Joker, but beneath the surface is a sincere sociological & political commentary (and spiritual message).
The Light & The Dark (i.e. Positive & Negative, God & Lucifer, Heaven & Hell, Angels & Demons, the Good & the Bad vibes, The Upward Infinity & The Downward Spiral, etc, etc, etc): it is at the fundamental core of our collective balance of existence; Life as we know it to be. It is my humble understanding that the eternal balance is a necessary process, it requires effort on both sides. Both Light & Dark must cooperate to preserve the equinox-of-existence (just one person’s opinion based off of observation & objective analysis, take it or leave it).
The death of Bruce Wayne’s best friend, Rachel Dawes, was not only a tragedy in Bruce’s life, it was a tragedy for innocence. She was so angelic & kind & giving & honorable & brave - her Faith is what helped Bruce remember his childhood innocence (before he was robbed of said innocence), and her last words (which were concealed from Bruce due to desperate-times-call-for-desperate-measures; see Alfred Pennyworth), she continued to spread the message of Good Faith in Humanity despite the fact that she was needlessly murdered. A defining attribute of Rachel Dawes’ character is one-in-the-same as Martha and Thomas Wayne - the Belief & Faith in Humanity despite the monumental heartache & loss (and yes, trauma & death).
If one recalls the time in the first act when Alfred was bringing Bruce Wayne back from the mountains of Bhutan - Alfred briefly mentions how Bruce Wayne’s ancestors’ tireless efforts to keep their community alive (even at the worst of times) nearly made them bankrupt. It was their tireless dedication (their faith) that paved the way to set a foundation for future generations to prosper (while honoring the efforts of said ancestors). Although their example did not improve Gotham’s economic prosperity overnight, the murder of Martha & Thomas Wayne set the wealthy of Gotham into action (as the story goes).
Bruce Wayne comes from a long lineage of helpers. Helpful People who are Good. People who want to see the best results out of humanity’s efforts (as a whole). People who believe in the power of the individual, and the social end-result of one individual’s tireless faith (and life choices).
Although Bruce Wayne’s ancestors are not the focal point of Batman, they are his bloodline & family’s history which in it’s own right deserves to be honored & respected (I know this is a fictional character, but roll with me here, people HahaHA).
Yes, “The Dark Knight” consists of nothing short of complete Mayhem, and YES, The Joker may make ya pee a little bit (just a little), and maybe even laugh (the writing is pretty damn genius in my humble opinion). I acknowledge that “The Dark Knight” should have been nominated for Best Picture (Double that for “The Dark Knight Rises”), and I acknowledge that Christian Bale should have been nominated for Best Actor his final performance as Bruce Wayne/Batman (I think he was snubbed, but hey I’m not in the Academy, so what do I know, right? HahaHA).
Speaking of “The Dark Knight Rises”, I still believe it’s the best Batman movie of all time. I understand (and have heard) many folks say “The Dark Knight” was a better movie, however, I believe (on the contrary) that not only is the third act of Christopher Nolan’s masterpiece a testament of cinematic storytelling - it is a testament to just how AWESOME we are when we perform at our best. When we work together, we are at our best (as a country, and as a people).
“The Dark Knight Rises”, at it’s core, is a cyclical nod to everything that was established in the first act of the trilogy (a perfect Full Circle), and of course, is the conclusion of Batman. Every lesson in Bruce Wayne’s life, every struggle, every enemy, every friend - every aspect of Bruce Wayne’s life is interwoven with Gotham City (and the people of Gotham) as he & his friends defend Gotham City (and everyone in it). In “The Dark Knight Rises”, Bruce Wayne has become a Hermit; locked away, half man, half mythos, in an air of mystery & fascination (among the ones who still speak of the elusive figure; a fading memory of a silent guardian). And as a hermit, Bruce has become deeply reclusive due to the Joker’s killing spree in Gotham City nearly a decade prior (while exploiting the sick minds & lost souls who stand for nothing [and truly fall for anything]).
While an average person would possibly accept Bruce Wayne’s physically-defeated, emotionally-scarred, and spiritually-damaged condition - Alfred Pennyworth (God Bless ‘em) does what any individual of Good Faith would do - he encourages Bruce. He sees Bruce as a human being, not as a symbol. He cares about Bruce Wayne’s life, his well-being, his overall fulfillment, and Bruce’s personal happiness. He chose to honor the pact he made with Thomas Wayne to protect the family fortune (most importantly, Bruce). Alfred Pennyworth has his own fascinating & rich history from his own backstory (having been a soldier in his younger years). Fact of the matter is, Alfred never stopped being a soldier at heart. He is True Blue; a true man of the cause; a true Englishman, a true American, and overall a true HUMAN BEING. He is a True Believer of preserving all that is sacred & righteous in our world. He is a Saint and he is a blessing (in contrast to Ra’s al Ghul’s curse-like presence; working in Bad Faith; a destructive force; almost the polar opposite of Alfred).
One thing I love about the final film in Nolan’s titanic, artistic, commercial, & cinematic effort is just how well the Production had managed to pull off the third act (having so many characters and SO much exposition) especially considering the factors that most wouldn’t even consider (i.e. Budget, Lights, Sound, Wardrobe, Set Design, making sure everyone’s hitting their marks, making sure all the stunt-work is safe, making sure it’s all coordinated to the “T” - the amount of brain-storming, conceptualization, the marketing, the pre-production, the principal photography, the post-production, etc etc etc). Movies that require so much of the cast & crew do not always work well, but Warner Bros. & Nolan’s Team somehow managed to actually pull it off. They did what no one else could do - they made Batman real. Christian Bale made Bruce Wayne real. He made Bruce Wayne truly Human (even if just for a moment).
In this day & age (with everything that just happened very recently in our very own United States of America) - one could find a jaw-dropping parallel to what happened when ‘Bane’ came to Gotham City (played ferociously by the envelope-pushing Tom Hardy; see “Bronson”, so gnarly) to what had happened to our own U.S. Capitol.
Bane is the darkness (cloaked with brute force) that feeds off of the fear of humanity. Bane is a product of The League of Shadows (with Hardy’s vocal performance being a nod to UK & Ireland Bare-Knuckle-Boxing Champion, Bartley “King of The Gypsies” Gorman), and was actually ex-communicated from the league (so the story goes) by Ra’s al Ghul (himself). Word around the campfire is that Bane is a force of nature (more destructive than known before) and will stop at nothing to ‘fulfill the destiny of Ra’s al Ghul.’ Bane is a result of fringe-Cult-Mind-Control-Indoctrination (a life devoid of pure faith & free-will entirely; typically due to some possible form of sincere trauma and/or loss and governing authority; aka The Darkness).
The legend of Bane is more rumor than fact. He is just as elusive as Batman, and just as evil as Joker (if not more). Bane’s physicality brings Bruce Wayne to his knees in the third act of Nolan’s 3-piece work-of-art, while also providing all of the intellectually-driven rationale (totally psychotic) behind his Madness & Apocalyptic ambitions. Bane is a real-life-threat to Bruce Wayne & Gotham City (and The American Way). Bane represents the overall threat to our way of life (as a humanity). Bane is everything wrong with world leaders & corrupt forces (cultivated into the most toxic physical form); like a deranged & disfigured Churchill who lumbers about (as a lion in a den) in the underground infrastructure of Gotham City’s sewage system (almost as a warped, drug-induced, Shakespearean Emperor). Bane is a deadly force of nature, fueled entirely by the sickness of bad faith; coerced into his own psychosis by probably the most complex & frightening character of the entire series - Talia al Ghul (a.k.a. ‘Miranda Tate’, played unnervingly-well by one Marion Cotillard [the child played by Joey King, respectively]; her performance sends chills up the spine upon numerous viewings).
While introducing Batman & Gotham’s new enemies, some of Bruce’s new friends in the final (and most epic) installment of Christopher Nolan’s Batman storyline are Officer [Robin] John Blake (played exceptionally by Joseph Gordon-Levitt) and a Wild-Card-Femme-Fatale character by the name of Selina Kyle (a.k.a. ‘Catwoman’, performed very well by Anne Hathaway). Joseph Gordon-Levitt shines as young Patrol Officer Blake - also having been an orphan, like Bruce Wayne, and a true believer in the purpose of Bruce Wayne (Batman) in Gotham City. Unlike Bruce, however, Robin is not a billionaire & Robin was not born into a life of privilege. Despite his brief backstory, Robin Blake, like Bruce Wayne, has Faith in Humanity. It’s why he puts on the uniform (speculative subtext). He does not have the luxury to become Batman, so just as Jim Gordon does - He works with what is given to him. He applies himself within the structure already established within Gotham (despite the restrictions & limitations of said structures of society). He, like ‘Serpico’ before him (see Al Pacino) is a regular Cop who just wants to do what the Law is supposed to do: To Protect & To Serve the good people of Gotham City.
Selina Kyle, on the other hand, is on a path between The Light & The Dark (on a sort of ‘spiritual tight-rope’ between the two paths). Selina’s life path is one of constant survival and constant running. As a ‘Cat Burglar’, Selina Kyle is a flat-out Crook. Her tough exterior conceals what truly is underneath her mask - a person who, too, has faith in humanity (proof that the ones who wander are not lost). Unfortunately for Bruce Wayne, as previously-mentioned, ‘Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures’ - and Selina Kyle’s desperation put Bruce directly into the hands of Bane & The League of Shadows (at a truly disturbing moment in the film). While forces of The League of Shadows’ (combined with a few of Wayne Enterprises’ own ‘bad seeds’, i.e. Daggett, Stryver, etc) disseminate chaos throughout the plot of “The Dark Knight Rises” (by destroying the city of Gotham and exiling Bruce Wayne across the world into a pit of hell) - all of the friends Bruce Wayne has made start to band together to organize a resistance with the surviving members of local (and once-established) authorities. The honor, the people, the community of Gotham City, and the overall driving spirit - the collective faith of the city (as a whole) had been damn-near destroyed entirely in this film. The resistance was born from those of whom are still faithful to their city and the rights of every individual who resides within.
Between the clandestine operations of Robin & his fellow law enforcement officers (all trapped underneath Gotham due to The League’s devastating terrorist attack), the United States Federal Government (and necessary agencies) & Wayne Enterprises (with ‘Miranda Tate’, Lucius Fox, etc), and the awe-inspiring action-sequences in this grand finale - there is no denial that the final installment of The Dark Knight Trilogy is the most realistic & visceral revolutionary epic set in modern-day America. It’s funny when one stops to think that this was all originally based off of a comic book character published by Detective Comics in the late 1930’s. It’s astonishing to think of just how far this fantasy story has evolved throughout the years.
Bruce Wayne is more than a comic book character. Bruce Wayne is a symbol of humanity. That is his ‘superpower’ - his Humanity. He is more than just a person fighting crime to honor his family’s faith & heritage - he is honoring the faith of humanity as it stands today. After all of the corruption & loss & trauma - Bruce Wayne never lost faith in what we have in life (even after losing so many loved ones and frequently having his own life in harm’s way). As he strives to defeat the darkness of Gotham (by striking fear into the hearts of those who prey upon the fearful), the force of darkness continues to rise to attempt to destroy & defeat The Light (Futility at it’s finest).
The greatest villain of all, Batman’s most incredible threat throughout the entire trilogy is actually Talia Al Ghul (Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter & heir to The League of Shadows; the true leader of the cult). She is the one who almost destroys Gotham City (if it wasn’t for Bruce Wayne and everyone who stepped up to do what was right to defend the city).
Although Talia does not fight Batman physically - she is the only villain who ever slept with Batman & exploited him with complete intimacy (seducing Bruce Wayne in a seemingly romantic moment in the film). Talia (still known as “Miranda” by this point in the story), appears innocent & sweet upon first glance, however with multiple viewings of the film, one begins to understand the disturbing nature of what Miranda/Talia is and is Not saying in Bruce Wayne’s presence (a brief glimmer of her spiritual void). Talia al Ghul truly is Ra’s al Ghul’s daughter and her light has been completely stamped out by the fact that she, not Bane, was the one who came out from the pit of hell (as it is revealed in the climax of this epic conclusion). The Devil lurks in many forms - in this particular case, Talia al Ghul displays the darkness as it exists in feminine form. Marion Cotillard was the most over-looked performance of the series (in my personal opinion) and I think as much as Tom Hardy does not get enough credit for his, at times, somewhat Macbethian performance (albeit not as flamboyant as Joker, but even more deadly) - I believe Talia al Ghul is the greatest threat to Gotham City in this trilogy (sorry, fellas).
While magnifying the character of Talia al Ghul, one must acknowledge her natural ability to be a ‘Wolf-in-Sheep’s-Clothing.’ She is the deadliest threat to Humanity due to her belief in a necessary demise of Gotham (seeing Gotham City as a hotbed of hypocrisy & imperialism). Talia al Ghul has no problem burning the barrel over a few bad apples (if that makes sense). While Talia is the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, she was also simultaneously dictating every strategy for The League of Shadows behind closed doors. She is the ‘Queen’, ‘The Head of The Serpent’, The Leader of ‘The Hive.’ She is the quintessential ‘Wicked Witch’, The ‘Bad Girl’, the ‘Goddess’, Kali, Baphomet, etc etc etc). She is an individual, born into a pit of darkness, and exposed to a potentially-life-shattering amount of trauma (based off of the staggering display of complete psychosis; albeit tremendously stealthy & downplayed under her facade of congeniality).
Talia al Ghul is the mastermind who inherited the crown from Ra’s al Ghul’s ‘throne’ (if that makes sense). She is a product of trauma, suffering, & loneliness, but more importantly, a severely sick individual who needs some serious mental & emotional help (more than Joker & Harley Quinn combined) and is the deadliest foe of all (due to her intellect & internalized rage & female fury & her knowledge of all things Gotham & Bruce Wayne/Batman). Talia al Ghul, like Batman, is a force of nature; especially due to her complete cutthroat tactics and inversion of personal Faith in Humanity. Talia al Ghul initially comes across as a meek & angelic person, responsible for the credibility & success of Wayne Enterprises. Her entire life, however, has been dedicated towards the infiltration of Gotham City, USA, and she is the only character in the film who is truly superior to Bruce Wayne in terms of sheer will-power (He caught up to her in the end though). What saves Bruce Wayne is his network of friends (Alfred, Jim Gordon, Lucius, Robin, Selina, etc), in addition to his mind, body, & spirit (once they attain alignment).
I don’t know what others have said, but I think Robin & Catwoman were actually done brilliantly in “The Dark Knight Rises.” Robin was a pleasant surprise for me as a viewer (truth be told; although I thought Ryan Gosling (GOS!) would have made an amazing Robin in ‘The Dark Knight Rises’; much respect for Joseph Gordon-Levitt), and Selina Kyle/Catwoman is fascinating due to her being the wild card of the last film (that truly helped level the playing-field; Girl-Power).
Catwoman, unlike Batman & Robin, is a big question mark throughout the majority of the last film. Her presence is just as elusive & threatening as Talia’s, however, Catwoman (unlike Talia al Ghul), underneath it all, is a Good Person trapped in a bad situation. That is a common thread in this storyline - Good people being in bad places (i.e. Jim Gordon, Lucius Fox, Rachel Dawes, Harvey Dent, etc). On the flip side of the coin - there are plenty of bad folks in good places amidst Gotham’s corrupt forces (i.e. Dr. Crane/Scarecrow, Carmine Falcone, Judge Faden, Detective Ramirez, Detective Wuertz, etc). It’s a reality known all too well in our modern society.
When one observes the overall arc of Bruce Wayne’s transformational life experiences in Nolan’s Comic Book Epic - I have to reiterate the notion of duality consistently interwoven within each one of these films. Light & Dark - Good & Evil - Positive & Negative - the eternal dance - it is the driving force of this franchise (as Bruce is the quintessential “Light Worker” - not that I’m soliciting ‘New Age’ [or ‘Old Age’ for that matter] ideologies, just a matter-of-saying). Bruce Wayne symbolizes The Light of God found in human form (at the very core and most-primary form of what Natives call, “The Great Spirit”, respectively), of which must seize the day to tame the night. Bruce is the epitome of a Capricorn/Aquarius cusp (Western Astrology/Zodiac) - in full force - bringing the water to those who are thirsty, bringing food to those who are starving, and healing the suffering of a people by means of very serious mental, physical, and Yes, Spiritual Work & Seriously Visionary Goals. Bruce Wayne is the Light while Bane is the Darkness of Humanity (the brute force, the inversion of light); the absence of faith. Although he does indeed have an inherent belief within his bones (and muscles reminiscent of mountains), Bane is still dependent on man-made ideologies & approaches (entirely based in the material world). The League of Shadows are attempting to summon the fires from hell in order to bring the dark prince into Heaven to seize the light (again, futility) to fulfill the devil’s ultimate lie (talk about a God-Complex..Oh me, Oh my) of Superiority (‘Can’t we all just get along?’).
When examining Talia al Ghul’s presence as a double-agent mastermind - her reveal is one of the most important plot twists of the series. Talia being a hidden “mole” within the resistance of Gotham City during The League of Shadows’ Hostile Takeover sets off Martial Law in Gotham - which sparks an uprising in the city that eventually saves Gotham (due to the efforts of a network of people who utilized adaptability & effective methods of coordination & action). Bane is to Batman as Talia is to Catwoman (just as Harvey is to Rachel; Duality; Gemini, Twins). What’s so incredible about Selina Kyle is her purpose in the story as a symbol that people CAN & DO redeem themselves despite having a checkered past (something a good amount of folks have in this day-and-age, myself included). Although the clandestine efforts of Gotham’s resistance had been futile due to the fact that Talia al Ghul was hiding in plain sight (a stroke of genius on the writing), Selina Kyle was the defining individual that tipped the scale in favor for Gotham City (and more importantly, Humanity as a Whole). She had an opportunity to leave Gotham and have a clean slate, but she had a personal moment-of-crisis... That’s because she has a soul, and in her soul, she knows, by faith & intuition, that humanity needed her help (one could speculate). She went back & risked her life (God bless her), which was a full circle nod, of which, echoed the sentiment originally planted within the first film: The moment when Rachel Dawes asked a younger Bruce Wayne, “..What chance does Gotham have if the good people do nothing?” (Edmund Burke; ‘Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents’ [1770], regarding the nepotism of a monarchy).
Talia al Ghul is a highly-complex character (next to Bruce Wayne) in the series due to the potential life she may have lead as an orphan born in the pit of hell (shot in the jaw-dropping landscape of Jodhpur, Rajasthan, India). She is also the most tragic due to the fact that she literally has an opportunity to leave her life of pain & suffering behind to be with Bruce Wayne, but succumbs to the ‘Shadow Side.’ ...You know something is ‘rotten in the state of Denmark’ when she would rather destroy the world than have a ‘happily ever after’ with Bruce Wayne. Her spirit fell back into the proverbial pit of despair & darkness (without ‘The Light’) that she had escaped from (in a metaphoric sense). Bane, like Scarecrow before him, is merely a pawn in the worldwide game of Chess (‘all the world is a stage...’). The tragedy of Talia is that she is someone who was born into darkness and literally had to pay for the sins of her father (as her mother did, tragically).
Talia al Ghul is the most heart-breaking villain of the trilogy simply due to her life being a complete tragedy. One begins to ponder if she had a romantic evening with Bruce Wayne simply because she had felt the cold winter of loneliness for too long, or if she desperately (just for a moment) wanted to be one with God’s Light & a person’s gentle embrace (although I don’t know I might be wrong - she was probably like “Hey, it’s either Scary-Ass Bane or six-pack abs Bruce Wayne. HMMM. Let’s tip the scale on that one - HAhaHa, I digress). Regardless of reasoning - Talia al Ghul’s complexity is probably no match for the intense unhappiness she carries with her. It’s no surprise due to the fact that her mother’s absolutely unGodly demise (so sad) was the catalyst that sparked her mission from Hell (with her hound-of-hell on a leash, aka Bane). As much as I may condemn Talia al Ghul & Bane - I want to reason with them. I want to listen to them and I want to let them know that America is not a bad place, and we are not a bad people. I want to find a common ground, and extend the olive branch (as the saying goes) in order to help heal their pain & misconceptions of Americans and Humanity (as a whole), without having to give my (or anyone else’s) life in the process.
I have a belief that if Talia al Ghul was given a fair & ample opportunity to have a better life in America - she would have taken it (if she had not been so deeply-programmed with hate). I have the understanding & more concrete belief that it is due to her life-long journey of trauma-based-indoctrination as the main culprit as to why she simply won’t cease & desist from committing further acts of wrath upon Humanity. Talia al Ghul could have put just as much effort into the healing as the killing (but she fell back into that spiritual pit). I know why she hates. She hates because she weeps, deep down inside in her soul at night (when no one is around), for her trauma & her unbearable internal pain. She hates because she is repeating the pattern of trauma that may or may not have been applied to her mind, body, and worst of all - her soul. She hates because she had hatred put into her (since being a small, innocent child) and she put that hatred out into the world (a severe lack of comfort, love, care, family, and yes - Faith). Although symbols of lightness, darkness, duality, and representations of sins & faith are all spread across this monumental achievement in film (without having to shove a Cross in someone’s face) - at the very core of this film is, again, the importance of faith in humanity despite our individual & collective tragedies (and shared injustice). The importance of striving, no matter the odds, no matter the pain, no matter how dark the night.
I believe the BEST moment in the entire story was the moment Bruce Wayne climbed out of the pit to save his people. He could have easily died a painful & shameful death in that ancient prison (while watching his city & country being destroyed by an insane fringe cult; a militia of madness; a false liberation). A lot of people seem to overlook just how incredible & truly powerful that moment is in “The Dark Knight Rises.” Tom Conti (a perfect performance of an apathetic mentor-like figure; complimented brilliantly by one Uri Gavriel as the exiled Medical Doctor of a Monarch) & Christian Bale’s overall dynamic in the entire pit sequence was a masterful stroke of storytelling (tying back to the first film, putting Bruce Wayne back where he first began). It’s fascinating to find Bruce Wayne, with a severely-injured body, having to rebuild himself and strengthening his spirit to rise out of the pit of despair - the pit of personal hell, the unforgiving pit of Time (Capricorn; Saturn; Kronos; “The Task-Master”, “The Reaper”; Reward or Punishment; Karma; The Lord of The Rings). The moment of truth comes when Bruce Wayne discovers (through numerous attempts) that it is his spirit that must rise to seize the light - without vanity, without any fancy gadgets, technology, tricks up his sleeve, or any clever contraption (or vehicle) to assist him in the process. This was a moment for Bruce Wayne and Bruce Wayne alone. This is what we call our moment to “Shine” as an individual being... our independent spirit. Bruce Wayne had to learn what it meant to climb out of the pit of hell and abandon his fear (as the child in the legend had done; Talia al Ghul).
The pit can represent many things to many different people. The eye of the beholder truly does apply to this (as well as any) story. For the individual to think & feel for one’s self - and to also believe in one’s self. The pit can be a literal prison - or it could be a wealthy kingdom. I know (from personal experience) the feeling of being at the pit of one’s own existence. I know what it means to be a prisoner trapped in one’s own body (due to unwanted pain & suffering & hidden trauma). I’ve learned the plight of humanity and the experience of suffering in the night (I’m just like everybody else). I have been there. I have known the darkness. I have known what it means to “dance with the devil under the pale moonlight” (as the expression goes). I’ve known what it means to defend the innocent from evil, thrusting myself into danger to save family members from toxic masculinity & extreme violence (since being a little boy). I have known the darkness, which is why I kept searching for my own personal truths & answers (which ended the day I had a near-death experience & literally saw The Light of God; 100% Serious). I have known all of these things, but I also know that the people who put that hurt into me had that same hurt (if not worse) put into them... That’s the paradox of trauma. The original source goes so far back it’s pointless to trace - which is why I look FORWARD in Life. I no longer dwell in the weight of one’s misery & spiritual darkness - I seize the light by choosing a good life (to fulfill my own purpose).
At the risk of my own humiliation & embarrassment (and at the delight of those of whom feel actual glee out of my personal struggles & suffering; God knows who you are), I can acknowledge that I am someone who has lived “in the darkness” before. I have known what it means to suffer and toil without the light of God in my life. I have abandoned my own belief in God before, and my own personal Faith before... it’s not something I am particularly proud of, and although I have survived various life experiences that made me plunge into the pessimistic side of life (having been mentally, physically, and yes - Sexually-Abused in my early childhood) - I reach out (in spirit) to anyone who may be reading my words, who has possibly fallen from the good grace of God (especially due to what has happened in our country). I, too, know what it is to lose faith in God & The True Light (as opposed to the Man-Made light). I know what it’s like to suffer & hate “The Believers” (my trauma came from a so-called “believer”).
You know, stories are more powerful than one may ever think (as well as Family, Friendship, Fun, and Faith). I have lived in my own personal hell before - I have ‘had it all’ and then lost EVERYTHING the following year. I have rebuilt my life SO many times (too many damn times), and I’ve learned one ultimate truth that I MUST share with everyone who is (and will be) alive to read these words...
..There IS A GOD. THERE IS A LIGHT. It may not be visible because we cannot see what lies beyond the veil of existence, but I assure you - Everyone is Alive for a REASON (and Individual Purpose). Women may have the divine gift of giving Life (RESPECT!), but we ALL have the gift of giving LIGHT (each in our own unique way). We all have a way to help heal and put something good into the world, despite our shared pain & trauma, as a people. We all deserve to be happy and have a decent opportunity for a healthy & happy existence (ESPECIALLY with our modern-day world; unless if folks start committing crimes and harming others and whatnot). I believe we are all at our best when we cooperate & coexist with one another (despite our individual differences). The Light does not need to shine out The Darkness just as The Darkness shall never overthrow The Light. We can live in a spiritual Harmony. We do not have to walk the same path. We do not have to share the same spiritual beliefs. I just think we CAN share this world (as I believe we are truly alive in what is known as the Garden of Eden).
We do not have to destroy ourselves to prosper. We can live among one another (with dignity & respect & honor). I’m not always happy to see that people willingly practice certain principles & “values”, but who am I to judge? That’s why God is here... It’s a tough lesson to accept, but it’s true. I should not judge someone just because they worship darkness - because at the end of the day that’s between them and their purpose in life - not mine. I have walked the line, but I never learned from others shouting in my face - I learned from listening & civility & patience & yes - Faith. That’s the purpose of the light - not to drown out the dark, but to work together (as Santa Clause & Krampus do), as a balance of necessary elements that will always be present in our own reality. We, as a contemporary society, have lost touch with the natural way of the world (well, a good amount of folks anyhow). We, as a humanity, have become so vain that we do not even know which way is Up & Down anymore - which way is truly Left & Right. We, as the soul of humanity, have suffered in the darkness for far too long (due to those who wish to control our individual light). We, as a country, MUST help one another climb out of our collective pit of despair - our sociological prison (cultivated through the last aeon), our ‘darkness.’ It has happened before and it can happen again - and to all of my fellow beings of whom shall always carry within us, The Light of Goodness, the love of God, and the wisdom of The Light - I say to thee: RISE.
I give Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight Trilogy a PERFECT 10 out of 10! The most inspiring superhero franchise of all time (in my opinion). Bruce Wayne & Gotham City show us that Chivalry is NOT dead in The United States of America (despite our challenges). Christopher Nolan’s Cinematic Achievement is victorious in it’s final conclusion: Gotham City IS worth Saving, as our very own Humanity - and Yes - We can all have a better way of life without having to sacrifice our own lives in the process. We can rise to fulfill our individual & collective destiny (as decent human beings) and have, not the life we need, but the one we DESERVE.
*This is dedicated in loving memory to everyone who has lived & died in service of The Light..✝️
“I see a beautiful city... and a brilliant people, rising from this abyss... I see the lives, for which I lay down my life: peaceful, useful, prosperous, and happy... I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendents (generations hence)... It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known...”
#WhyWeRISE#AMeditationOnHumanity#WhyWeRiseAMeditationOnHumanity#Humanity#Faith#Harmony#Movies#Batman#GothamCity#ChristopherNolan#ChristianBale#MichaelCaine#GaryOldman#KatieHolmes#MaggieGyllenhaal#MorganFreeman#CillianMurphy#HeathLedger#AaronEckhart#LiamNeeson#TomHardy#MarionCotillard#AnneHathaway#JosephGordonLevitt#BatmanBegins#TheDarkKnight#TheDarkKnightRises#USA#AdamWekarski#ATOMIK1
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alpha/beta are carol/daryl foils: an analysis no one asked for; twd s10 spoilers, obviously
hoo boy. okay, so i’ve been intending to write this for days, but i had to let it marinate, and also i haven’t been sleeping and couldn’t concentrate long enough to write it down, but whatever, i digress. “we are the end of the world” was something, wasn’t it?? it is so weird to have a plotline in twd that’s like...good? and SO refreshing to have a villain who isn’t a macho, rapey, white dude. i personally believe that all showrunners should be women from now on. oh, i’m digressing again, my apologies.
here’s the actual content, under the cut bc it’s a fucking novel:
so, from alpha’s very first episode, when i saw her shaving her head, i literally thought, “oh, so she’s carol’s foil and they’re going to have an inevitable showdown, huh?” guess who was right? this bitch. but what i didn’t catch right away was how beta is also daryl’s foil, and how the main focus of this season is alpha/beta vs carol/daryl.
let’s take it apart individually first, yeah?
carol vs. alpha:
like i said, the scene that made me instantly aware of what they were setting up was when alpha shaved her head. carol’s hair was a big thing in season 9, and the fact that we had just had henry talking about carol growing her hair out long, juxtaposed with alpha shaving hers off, is what set the alarm bells off for me. i have said over and over that i don’t believe kang does anything unintentionally, and girl loves her symbolism, so those two opposing scenes was a taste of what she was setting up.
carol and alpha are both near-indestructible forces who also happen to be mother’s suffering the loss of their children at the hand of the other. (carol isn’t directly responsible for lydia, but she’s included with “the others” that took lydia from alpha, so i think alpha still sees her as part of it.)
carol and alpha both have transformed themselves to fit within the confines of the world they currently live in, while recognizing that their children weren’t meant for it, even within their own grief. let us refer to figures a and b (lol) below.
figure a:
here in “the grove” we have creepy girl who i hate and am terrified of asking carol if sophia died because she was weak, and carol straight up is like, “yes.” she doesn’t even sugarcoat it. she accepted that her daughter wasn’t going to survive from the jump, because “there wasn’t a mean bone in her body.”
figure b:
here we see alpha losing her goddamn shit, because she’s having a come-to-jesus moment with beta about losing lydia, because she can’t have lydia and be the alpha at the same time, because lydia “is not like” her.
conclusion: carol and alpha both mourn for their daughters, but have accepted that to be the people they need to be in the apocalypse, their children needed to die (or in lydia’s case, be dead metaphorically). in short, carol and alpha are two sides of the same coin. they’ve both found ways to survive, except one is for the good guys, and the other is for the bad guys, and now they’re head-to-head, and it is d e l i c i o u s.
moving on.
daryl vs beta:
idk why the parallels didn’t occur to me when they had daryl fighting beta. i blame henry, he was distracting me by being a delightful idiot (rip my dumb bitch), but that seed was planted in season 9, too. go kang for continuity. who knew twd could do that? anyway.
the big thing that compares daryl and beta is who they were before they found carol and alpha respectively. we obviously don’t know a whole lot of details about beta’s life, but we have enough to extrapolate and compare, and extrapolate and compare we shall.
alright, so we got our favorite lovable, filthy redneck, who grew up abused and isolated, and then here comes the apocalypse, and the only person he has left is his brother, and that’s what defines him until he loses him, both when rick chained him to a roof, and then again, after a brief relapse, when merle sacrificed himself.
next we have beta, who again, our info is limited, but he does not become “beta” until after whoever that walker alpha puts down is gone. judging by the size, approximate age, and the closeness beta had to him, i’m betting on, you guessed it, his brother.
observe:
figure a:
figure b:
these are both turning points for these men, where they Fully Become the dudes that we know. daryl couldn’t be the daryl we know and love until merle was gone for good, and whatever his actual name is couldn’t become beta until smiley face shirt guy was smooshed.
(side note: how fucking rank does that t-shirt have to be by now? at least the mask dries out, but do you think that t-shirt is just like, melded into beta’s skin at this point? gross.)
so time for the fun part.
alpha/beta and caryl in season 10:
season 10 finds both duos in similar circumstances, by which i mean, alpha and carol are losing their minds, and beta and daryl are like, “uhhhh, you ok?” the men are these women’s confidants, their person, the one they trust and love above all others. carol saved daryl and brought him into a community, and alpha did the same thing with beta. you want more visual aides? well, sure thing, scout!
figure a:
we’re carylers, we already know carol’s the reason daryl has the confidence and self-esteem to become part of the group, but juxtapose this with the following pic, which i will label
figure b (again):
and you will see that alpha sees something in beta that no one else does. she sees this lonely, talented man, who’s adrift and in solitude, and she essentially calls dibs. sound familiar? inorite?
so daryl and beta are now loyal to a fault to their women, and this season already has them being wary of how they’re acting. yes, i have more pictures. i like taking screenshots, okay?
figure a:
one of the first scenes we get with caryl is daryl asking carol if she’s still thinking about alpha, and if she is Dwelling, which is interesting, because...
figure b:
...that’s exactly the same thing we get with alpha and beta. the first scene in “we are the end of the world” with the two of them in present day is him questioning her motives, and then later on he’s like, “fuck, are you Dwelling?”
and both women immediately are like:
and neither dude knows wtf to do about this, because they’re used to the women being the strong ones. carol’s whole, “you’ve got to feel it, but not me, i’m good repressing, conceal don’t feel” thing, mixed with alpha’s, “we’re living like the dead and the dead don’t feel emotions so obviously I Am Fine” motto is what their boys are used to, but suddenly carol is hallucinating dead children, and alpha is making shrines, and our poor dudes are like, “plz stop???” esp bc they know these women are FUCKING TERRIFYING, and should never be left to their own devices if they’re being crazy crackers.
ergo, both men are clinging to the hope that they can bring the women back from the brink. my last visual aides, yes i know, how sad:
figure a:
figure b:
both scenes have these dudes reaching out to their women and essentially expressing, in their own way, “i’m worried about you, can you plz stay within eyesight at all times, ilu,” bc neither daryl nor beta is equipped to have a nice long sit down conversation about feelings, and obviously carol and alpha wouldn’t bother to entertain it in the first place, so like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. they tried.
will it work? unlikely! because after that showdown at the end of both eps 1 and 2, these bitches ain’t about to stop for nothing. they just straight up made enemies for life, and they’re going straight harry potter with this shit, neither can live while the other survives, someone has to die, and while beta and daryl are not super on board with this whole “being bonkers and bent on revenge” thing, you better bet your ass that they’re going to make sure their woman is the winner, which means they automatically are paired up against one another as well.
so in a nutshell: we could have just stuck goatees on mmb and norman reedus, cast them as alpha and beta, and called them mirror!verse caryl (star trek reference, yay/nay?), because they’re mother fucking foils setting up for the mother fucking fight of the century, and oh my god, can you feel it in your bones how exciting it is that it’s not going to be a rick + negan dick measuring contest again? i am So Hype.
and ofc, as a hardcore caryl shipper, i obviously have to throw in that alpha and beta are totally in love (which is esp fun, bc whisperers aren’t supposed to feel love, uh oh, vulcan violation, yes i made another star trek reference, bite me), and if they are paralleling caryl, well...extrapolate from the evidence.
i love kang, you guys. i love how she tells a story. i love that she knows how to tell a story. this show is good again, and idk how she did it, but damnit, she did.
thus endeth my pointless critical analysis. forgive me. i was an english major and have absolutely no other use for my degree.
i’m ashamed too.
that’s all. tomorrow is the early release of the caryl episode, i mean the new episode. looking forward to dying a valiant death with the lot of you. until then, friends.
deuces,
-diz
addendum: i was editing this, and was trying to think if there’s a parallel to the bracelet scene, and the only thing i could think of that alpha gives beta is his mask. she encourages him to take the face of his brother(?), and that keeps him grounded, which is interesting, bc my prediction for the bracelet is that it’s going to end up being a grounding device for carol when she’s dissociating. i don’t have a solid conclusion drawn there, but i thought i’d mention it before posting, just to plant the seed.
k, done 4 real, bye
#alpha/beta#do they have a ship name?#bc i'm worried it's gonna get tagged in that weird kink stuff#gdi#whatever#moving on#caryl#carol peletier#daryl dixon#twd s10 spoilers#twd#dunlap tp
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Old, New, Borrowed, Blue
Commissioned by @hewhowalksbehind way too long ago.
I have commissions open here.
Something old.
From a practical standpoint, there wasn’t much left to worry about. The ceremony was small, just a handful of people from both sides of the family and friends who they couldn’t have kept away if they tried. Music and decorations had been handled by the church, and her family was making sure everything would be ready for the party at the new house. Laughter and chatter floated through the window, signaling that people had started to arrive. Inside was nearly as busy, the occasional shout or bumped furniture as her bridesmaids donned their outfits in the changing room two doors down. She could hear some pacing and muttering outside the room, possibly the priest going over his lines one last time.
If it wasn’t for the fact she didn’t want to cause a scene, Gale would have requested a spider in a heartbeat. There was a decent chance she still might. A large fuzzy friend to pet and scratch would make all of her problems disappear. It would also create several more problems in the process, as is to be expected when said spider is the size of a large dog, but at least those were familiar problems.
“That much tension in your shoulders will absolutely give you sore muscles in the morning,” Bookkeeper said, brushing a knot slowly and methodically out of Gale’s hair. Clicking her tongue, she deftly parted the strands and wove them into a bun fit for a proper lady. Her aunt looked shorter than normal, perhaps a necessity to better blend in with the ladies of the time, though her face was still plenty youthful. She was dressed in green and gold, a tasteful ensemble with just enough jewelry to show off her apparent wealth. “Not to mention your posture is atrocious.”
“Yes, right, sorry Aunt Nova,” Gale said with a wince, settling her shoulders back and relaxing into her aunt’s swift and precise hands. It certainly wasn’t the flashiest updo possible, but it was functional. More importantly, it could hold a veil. Dear gods, it would be holding a veil in just a manner of…minutes? Hours? What was time anymore? Did it ever exist?
That question may have been slightly rhetorical, given the nature of her family, but that was well beside the point.
The ghost of a smile appeared on Bookkeeper's face. It was the same expression Gale remembered from when she was small, curled up in her aunt’s lap and listening to her low voice roll around in her ears. Her first teacher, the one who methodically taught her letters and numbers and penmanship. To this day, she still had the best handwriting in town. “Don’t apologize to me, apologize to your soon to be husband for all of the massages you’re going to require.”
“If you’re really that nervous, I can get you some tea to calm your nerves,” her mom said, picking a few loose threads from the veil. To the wider world, she was the Witch, a member of a god’s court, utterly terrifying in her innocence. To her, she had always been just mom. Her dark brown hair showed just a few streaks of gray, though the majority was currently hidden under a sunhat. Though she knew it was all for show, a few creases were pressed around her eyes and cheeks, an attempt at showing her age. In a bit of a wardrobe change, she wore a conservative purple dress instead of her typical magenta.
“No, I’ll be quite fine,” Gale stammered, swallowing her words down along with the butterflies in her stomach. Her gaze was focused straight ahead, eyes glued to the mirror as the two women worked their proverbial magic.
Bookkeeper sniffed, biting a hairpin between her teeth as she began securing hair into place. “Lying is unbecoming of a bride, sweet miss.”
Gale sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to keep a strong face once that nickname was thrown out. “I don’t want the tea, but I’m…well, I feel like I’m looking over the edge of a cliff and my stomach is turning itself over.”
“Ginger it is,” Witch said, setting the veil to the side and opening the door to the linen closet. Though Gale didn’t dare turn her head, she was fairly certain that her mother wasn’t looking for an extra towel. Hardly a second later, a warm cup of tea was in Gale’s hands. “Not the best brew I’ve made, but it’ll do to settle the nausea.”
Trying to keep her hands from shaking, she drank down the entire cup in what felt like only a few gulps. The soothing and pleasantly spicy mixture slid down her throat, a welcome distraction to…well, everything. Her eyes flickered up towards her mother’s. “Were…were you like this on your wedding day?”
“I don’t think so,” her mom said, giving a warm smile as she took Gale’s hand into her own. “Then again, I married out of duty, because that is what happened to everyone back then. But I’d imagine if I did manage to marry for love, I’d probably be at least a little nervous.” She squeezed their hands together, palms warm and comforting. That pair of hands that cooked hearty meals, that mixed tinctures and remedies when she fell ill, that held her tight during all of the difficult times. An eclectic assortment of aunts and uncles had helped take the load off, but when the sun slipped behind the horizon and it was time for goodnight kisses, it was always just the two of them.
The Witch and the Witch’s daughter.
Gale gave a slight nod as her other hand fiddled with a bracelet around her right wrist. Thirteen silver beads were strung together on a thin red thread, each one etched with a different symbol. A gift, her first gift, painstakingly made by the combined efforts of Bookkeeper’s meticulous rune work and her mother’s gentle spellcraft. Worn proudly throughout her youth, the charm bracelet had grown with her, never sitting too tight or too loose on her wrist. It was meant to keep her shielded, to keep her warded, to keep her safe. It was a reminder just how different she was, how much her family had sacrificed for her, how much her mother had given just so she had a chance at life.
She never took it off. That wasn’t about to stop today.
Something new.
When Vincent asked her about her family, she had given the answer she had given everyone who thought to ask. Her mother was a midwife back in the old country, helping mothers deliver babies and keeping them well. She had married a soldier, though less out of love and more because she had no choice, and he ended up dying on the battlefield not even a few months into their marriage. The men of her village shunned her, and so unable to find a husband who would treat her well, she immigrated and decided to raise her daughter on her own. Aunts and uncles and other members of her extended family helped support the two of them throughout the years, effectively meaning that she had been raised by seven different people. So, yes, it was entirely necessary to invite them all. Leaving anyone out just wouldn’t feel right.
There was also the issue that Priestess might actually kill her for the insult, but that was another matter entirely.
“Alright, dear, turn around, let us get you buttoned up,” Priestess said, tapping her chin twice in thought. This was perhaps the first time Gale had ever seen her look this old, hair nearly entirely gray and face streaked with wrinkles. If anything, it only served to make her look even more intimidating, which was a feat in and of itself. Her gown was in tasteful yellows and greens, perfect for a spring wedding. “I do hope that magazine I found was correct. Fashion styles start to blur around this period, and the last thing I need is for you to be wearing something a decade too early.”
“I think it looks just fine, Aunt Trisha,” Gale said, complying absolutely immediately and turning away from the mirror. As she did, she could feel hands gently gather the fabric at her back and slowly button into place.
A light knock echoed through the room, followed by a voice Gale was always happy to hear. It was a voice that invited excitement, new opportunities, and typically the best presents if luck was in her favor. Even now, it was enough to raise her spirits at least a bit. “Am I allowed to come in now?”
“Yes, yes, get in here,” Priestess called, smoothing out the collar and sleeves. “Do remind me, are trains typically attached separately by this era in time?”
Not bothering to use the door, not that Gale actually expected him to use something like doorknobs in the first place, Advisor instead dropped in from the ceiling. It was honestly disconcerting to see him with light blond hair, even more so seeing it so short. Presumably not wanting to upstage the bride either, he had swapped his typical white coat and maroon shirt for a respectable tan suit and hat. Even with all of the changes, the very tail of his jacket still blew in a wind that was not there. He gave a quick glance over, the gears obviously turning in his head. “I believe that assumption can be made, otherwise doing without a train seems to be more than acceptable.”
“Excellent, because I would hate for this bit of lace to exist only to be soiled by dirt and mud,” Priestess replied, undoing a number of buttons that Gale wasn’t entirely sure were there a second ago and removing the fabric. “Stay still, dear, the sash is next, and this bow will not tie itself.”
Gale nodded her understanding, holding her arms out in anticipation. The nerves and nausea had left along with the tea, replaced instead with the mild discomfort that was being in the presence of her most terrifying relative. Though she had a feeling she would never get the full story, she knew Priestess was the closest thing she would ever get to a grandmother. In her own way, she was kind, teaching poise and etiquette and gifting the occasional sweet treat. Even so, Gale always made sure to be on her best behavior around the woman. The others would tolerate her antics from time to time; ‘Aunt Trisha’ absolutely would not. “Well, what do you think, Uncle Ara?”
“Well, I suppose no matter what I say will be seen as biased,” he said with a good natured smile, putting his hands into his pockets and leaning against the wall. “But that being said, you look positively radiant, Miss Gale.” Though she wouldn’t dare say it out-loud, she liked Advisor best out of her uncles. Perhaps that was because he always treated her with a fond respectfulness that even now was rarely received. She always got the impression that children especially fascinated him, and so he always brought her exotic gifts and carved out time to talk. Like Bookkeeper, he was more often than not a teacher, lecturing her on all manner of scientific topics, from biology to astronomy to the physics of worlds she could only imagine.
Gale smiled back, feeling a flush rise into her cheeks. “I do have you both to thank for that, I suppose,” she shyly replied. “Though you really didn’t have to get me a dress for the occasion.”
“Dear, if one of our own is getting married, the least we can do is make sure you make everyone and their mother green with envy over such fine tailoring,” Priestess said with a grin Gale could feel, securing the sash with a final tug.
“It was our pleasure,” Advisor echoed, giving a small bow. As he did, the wall behind him shifted and warped, wallpaper turning a shining silver. He stepped to the side with an equally dramatic flourish, revealing a full length mirror. “Though I suppose you should see the final results for yourself.”
The underdress was soft, smooth against her skin and shaping her waist into a fashionably slim frame. Overtop was the real artistry; the entire overdress was made of fine lace, each leaf and flower and vine intentionally placed into a gorgeous tapestry. The collar sat high, allowing for more designs at the neck and down her back. Sleeves stopped just past her elbows, which was about as daring as she was willing to go for an already fairly sheer top. A simple white sash was tied around her waist, fixed into a cute bow just at the small of her back. It would have taken hours to make something as detailed as this by hand or machine, and it would not have been cheap either.
The chances they bought this dress were slim, though, knowing their love for fashion and how the dress fit her like a second skin. If she had to guess, Advisor wove the fabric and Priestess sewed the dress. She felt his touch in the way it almost shimmered in the light, the way it kept her at a comfortable temperature, the way it pulled her eyes to just gaze at her own image. She felt her touch in the way it flattered her at every angle, the way the lace seemed to almost be alive, the way it was equal parts modest and incredibly glamorous.
She would only wear this once. That would be more than enough.
Something borrowed.
Gale had friends; that much was evident by the fact she had enough bridesmaids to match Vincent’s groomsmen. They had been collected over the years, mostly through the people she met while at school or attending church or saw around the neighborhood. Even so, making friends wasn’t something that came easy. Girls her own age were concerned first with learning domestic chores, then impressing boys and fashion, then getting married and having children. In fairness, she was now focused on the last one, but that was a recent development. A lifetime of knowing there was more to the world made those conversations horribly mundane. Combined with all of the secrets she kept close to her heart, be it magic or her family’s true nature or her own dabbles in the arcane arts, she had no choice to keep a bit of distance between herself and friends. No guests over without permission, no in depth conversations about home life, no outward symbols of her true faith.
Her friends always believed that she was just embarrassed about her living situation, having no father to speak of and living in an immigrant community. If it kept people from prying, she wasn’t going to correct them on their inaccuracies.
“Now, you sure you’re okay getting hitched?” Huntress asked, planting her hands on Gale’s shoulders and looking her square in the eyes. Her aunt looked decidedly uncomfortable in a dress, the ensemble carefully crafted of a light orange fabric to give the wild woman enough mobility for her tastes. A well crafted illusion made her look approximately as old as Witch, fitting as this woman might as well be her second mother. “If you need to back out, just holler and I’ll start punching people.”
Gale held a hand to her mouth, trying to keep a laugh from bursting out even as the corners of her mouth turned up in a grin. “I’m more than sure, Aunt Diane.”
“There’s the smile I was looking for,” she replied with a smirk of her own. One hand reached for the veil, gently adjusting it so the lace draped over Gale’s shoulders. Though she had seen her aunt almost rip a man in half for daring to make a vulgar gesture her way, her touch was always soft and caring. She was also a strong believer that Gale shouldn’t go defenseless, explaining why Gale was known for her mean right hook if push came to shove. “Shouldn’t get married with a frown on your face. It’s bad luck.”
“So is the groom seeing me before the wedding, but I think he might’ve stolen a glance as I was coming inside.” Her smile widened a touch. Luck was something Gale had never truly believed in; when you have access to small magics, it was typically better to make your own luck.
Huntress chuckled a touch, taking a few flowers and weaving them just under the veil. “Well, then we’re just going to have to make up for that. Can’t have something going wrong on your big day.”
“If we want to avoid that, then she shouldn’t be getting married in a church either, but that’s just me,” Part Timer called from the other side of the room, taking a bit of shoe polish to a pair of Louis heels. In probably the best glamour work Gale had ever seen, her uncle actually looked and smelled like a normal human being. His dark hair was combed back, face streaked with a few lines and eyes able to focus on the world. He wore a simple blue suit, both sides perfectly pressed and without signs of decay, though his coat and hat were currently hanging up on the wall. Seeing him like this was honestly more than a little eerie, a bit like seeing a wax sculpture come to life. “There’s a perfectly good hall down the street, and all you’d need is a judge to sign the papers.”
Huntress sighed, rolling her eyes as she marched over to the much taller man. In one motion, she swiped the already polished shoe from the windowsill. “You’re just cynical, love.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault religion was considered conspiracy theory nonsense by the time I was born,” he said indignantly, though the smile on his face said otherwise. His voice was surprisingly steady, marking one of the few times Gale had ever seen him jitter out every few seconds. He was the most recent addition to her ‘family’, apparently not joining until she was already born. In some ways, that made it a little more difficult for Gale to accept him for who he was, especially considering his face was quite frightening as a little girl. But Huntress trusted him, and she had gotten to watch them both slowly fall for each other as the years passed. So, when he was able to hold a steady form and voice, the two of them would play pretend with her dolls and piece together puzzles. “But seriously, Gale, just remember to say the words at the right time and cry if you need to cry.”
“Please, Uncle Gil, I don’t cry that easily,” she replied, pulling her dress up high enough to reveal stocking feet. “You really don’t need to fuss over me this much.”
“Well too bad, young lady, you’re getting fussed over,” he said without room for debate, setting aside the polishing cloth and holding the remaining shoe up to the light. “There we go, all shined up and ready for their debut.”
“About time, at this rate she’s going to be late for her own damn wedding,” Huntress said with just a mote of frustration, slipping the first shoe onto Gale’s foot. “Get over here and help me tie these laces.”
“But of course, my darling lioness,” he said with a chuckle and just the smallest amount of tease.
Knowing there was no way she could protest, Gale allowed for the bit of pampering as she got used to how the shoes felt around her feet. While most Louis heels were made of silk or other cloth, these were made of a sturdy leather stained silver. Whether done by magic or a very talented cobbler, they were surprisingly soft. More importantly, they were well broken in and easy to walk in without tripping. They also were not her shoes. Though Huntress might have detested wearing the dresses of this time period, she still wanted to blend in reasonably well when the occasion arose. These were her favorite ‘dinner shoes’, worn on special occasions and kept in absolute pristine quality. Gale had tried to politely turn her down, knowing her aunt would want to wear the one pair of fancy shoes she considered acceptable on such an important day.
She hadn’t won that argument.
Something blue.
Every so often, Gale would ask mom about her father. She knew the two of them would never meet, at least not in this life, but she was morbidly curious about the man who had married her mother all of those years ago. From what little she had scraped together, he was in fact a soldier, a Roman one at that. It had been a political marriage to seal some sort of important treaty, given her mother was the daughter of a village elder. He was tall, strong, grim, but treated her well and never laid a hand on her. According to her mother, Gale had his eyes and hair.
When he died, her mother mourned, knowing there would be few men who would consider marrying a widowed folk healer. Except there had been one, a young man who was known for his carpentry and had been smitten with her for years. If things had gone differently, their wedding would have been joyous, filled with music and laughter and dancing for they truly loved each other.
She never did figure out what happened to that man. From how her mother’s eyes looked to somewhere in the distance when she spoke of him to the way her smile turned wistful whenever Gale asked about him, she hoped he lived a good life.
“Is there anything else you require, little wind?” Lieutenant asked, glancing around the corner in a gesture that was definitely more for her sake than his own. Even dressed up, he had kept his wardrobe as simple as possible, wearing a black suit with as few embellishments as possible. His long hair was neatly tied back, and Gale was fairly sure this was the first and only time she would ever see him wear a hat. Still, it was odd seeing him without his telltale wings, dark and yet sparking with little stars. She knew they were still there, hidden behind a veil of magic she couldn’t see past, but seeing him look so…human did not feel right.
Gale shook her head, clutching the flowers in her hands. According to the florist, the sheaf bouquet was all the rage, as the long stems gave a sense of rustic splendor. She cradled a collection of pale yellow ranunculus blossoms, pink and white roses, and tweedia in her arms, doing her best not to squish anything down. “At this point, I really don’t need much more, Uncle Oliver. We’re just waiting for the procession to begin.”
“Yes, your mother told me as much,” he said, furrowing his brow in slight confusion. “First are the men who are accompanying your fiancé, then your mother and his parental figures, then the women accompanying you, your…honored maid…”
“Maid of honor, yes,” Gale said with a smile, listening intently as music began to play. Unlike most of her other family members, Lieutenant made it no secret that he was unsure how to precisely deal with mortals, much less a human child. He would consistently ask her opinion or insight on her actions, his curiosity apparent in every moment the two spent together. Perhaps that is why he felt a need to treat her with the same respect that he gave her mother, asking her for clarifications at times and inquiring into exactly how mortal minds functioned. This also might have been why he trusted in her abilities enough to let her visit other worlds, sometimes on her own if the situation arose.
Now, whether or not her mother appreciated her visiting other worlds was an entirely different story. Intellectually, Gale understood why dropping a seven year old into spider land was a bad idea. That being said, they were actually quite docile if you treated them with respect.
“Maid of honor, then the boy and girl with the rings and flowers, respectively, and then I am supposed to escort you to the altar,” he continued, stepping to her right and offering his arm. “Though I am still unclear as to why my presence is necessary.”
“The idea is that you’re supposed to ‘give me away’,” she replied, slipping her arm into his. “Normally, it would be my father doing this, but since I don’t have one, I need a close male relative to take his place.”
Around the corner, the doors swung open, and feet began to step into the congregation hall. This time, his voice was quieter, though she wasn’t entirely sure he was using his mouth to form the words. “Then why not choose one another of your other uncles? While I am content enough to partake in the ceremony, it seems more…sensible for someone with a better understanding of human traditions to do such a thing.”
Gale opened her mouth to answer, then paused for what felt like an eternity. In truth, she hadn’t really given a thought as to why Lieutenant would be the one to walk her down the aisle. When the wedding preparations had begun, all she knew is that if she needed someone to uphold the tradition, it absolutely had to be Uncle Oliver. He was correct; either of her two uncles would have been more sensible choices in many respects. Advisor had a much better grasp on how human rituals were conducted, and while Part Timer might not like religious ceremonies, he at least understood the traditions.
Her eyes traveled to the ribbon tying her bouquet together, a simple silk ribbon dyed pastel blue. She had been ten years old with a bit of pocket change left over from the holiday season in her pocket. On Priestess’s advice, she had dragged Lieutenant out to a summer fair to have some fun. The years had stolen the exact memories of the event, but she knew they had a couple of sweet treats to test how his sense of taste was coming along and stopped to feed a couple of goats. However, she remembered the two of them playing a simple ring toss game, and Lieutenant had failed absolutely miserably at getting even one onto a bottle. Even now, the memory of his baffled face made her giggle. When her turn rolled around, she managed to land each and every one, winning her a ribbon to take home.
She remembered his face, no longer expressionless and cold, but displaying something that just might have been pride.
“Because, Uncle Oliver-” she replied, straightening her back and putting on a brave smile. “-no one else has come that close to being like a father.”
He gave her a smile in return, gesturing with his free hand. “Then shall we?”
One deep breath in, one deep breath out.
“Yes.”
It was time.
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Against the Odds - Part 3 [James Potter x reader]
Prompt: College AU ❃ Jocks are disgusting. Too good looking, too aware of it, too drunk and too dumb. Or so you thought.
This is the third part for @marvelcapsicle‘s writing challenge.
A/n:
Since tumblr doesn’t show posts with links in the tags anymore, you can find previous parts on my masterlist, linked in my bio.
If you need to zoom in on the texts just click on the picture to do so. GIF is not mine.
Warnings: Swearing, sexual themes, fluff and a curly devil that will hunt your dreams
Word count: 3.2k
Part 3 - You up?
Thursday:
Half past nine in the evening, you had just typed the last word of your essay for English class and had clicked on the save-symbol when Louise entered your room, along with her boyfriend Mike. He was a frat guy. Jockish as hell. Maybe one of the reasons you hadn’t liked those type of guys.
You weren't sure why they had decided to come to your and Louise’s room – it was certainly too small to miss anything the other person said or did and Louise had told you countless times how lucky Mike was to have a room for himself at the frat.
Anyway, you weren't going to ask them because they had decided to watch a movie on Louise's laptop and after arguing for twenty minutes, had finally picked something out.
You were on your phone, texting with Remus, who had just started telling you things about his personal life and that he would go to the cinema with Sirius in a bit when you suddenly heard suspicious huffing from across the room.
You turned over and caught Louise and Mike kissing. Vigorously. Not only that, but things were moving underneath their blanket and it didn't look like they were folding their hands to pray.
“Guys,” you said. “You know I can hear and see you from here.”
No answer. They just ignored you.
“Louise! What the fuck are you doing?”
She tore herself away from her boyfriend and took a breath before answering: “Sorry, Y/N. But you must know, I've just gotten off my period and we haven't-”
“Oh my god. Shut up, please. You can't be serious. Why don't you-”
Before you could finish your sentence, her mouth was on his again and now it seemed that she was climbing onto him.
“Hello?”
They ignored you again and now you heard something unzipping.
“That's it,” you said as you got up. “I'm leaving. And fuck you both. Or don't. Whatever.”
You rushed out the room and stood in the hallway, already typing a text to Remus, trying to ask him if he could help you out. Wait. He was going out with Sirius. So that wasn't an option. Shit. You walked over to the common room and sat down on one of the mouldy couches. Looking across the area you stared at the microwave for a minute, contemplating if sleeping here was the only alternative you had. Oh please no. It was gross and cold and people would notice. There was someone else you knew. Not that you preferred that. But it was worth a try, wasn't it?
So, yeah. Awkward.
Oh god. Stupid. No one would believe that. Was there a way to unsend texts?
Okay, okay. Okay! Keep calm. You took a deep breath, smelling even more of the gunk that had built up on the kitchen counter, and stood up. Everything was better than spending the night between the remnants of pizza and hot pockets. You caught yourself walking in circles and finally brought up the courage to leave the dorm.
It was chilly outside, but you enjoyed the cool breeze as you stood on the pavement and pressed the front of your shoe into the concrete until it hurt. A car turned up on the far end of the street. Blinding headlights came closer with the engine revving until it slowed down and stopped right in front of you. A black and sleek Audi whatever-model. Rich parents – what else had you expected?
Last chance to run back in. He could still be a serial killer, right? But he had brought you a sandwich yesterday. Were you really just using food as refutation?
The window rolled down and James' curly head poked out. “You coming?”
Well, curly hair and a sub would do as refutation for tonight.
You got in, closed the door and belted up before you finally looked over.
“Hi,” you said hesitantly.
“Hey. So... Drama at the dorm?”
“Yeah. And I’m sorry. That I asked you for this, you know.”
“Nah, it’s fine. I was at the bar and wanted to go home anyway. Actually, I'm glad you did.”
He put in the gear, started driving and looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t. There was a tiny smile on his lips that could only make you guess what he was thinking before you put your eyes on the road.
“So um... Who’s your roommate then? Do I know her boyfriend?” James asked after a while.
“Her name’s Louise. Her boyfriend is Mike. Mike um, Broogler or something? A frat guy, I’m sure you know him.”
“Brockler, yeah I know him. A frat guy, huh?” he grinned.
“He is a guy and part of the fraternity. Frat guy.”
“The way you say it makes it sound like that’s something bad.”
He was obviously joking, the tone of his voice still light and cheery, but there could have been a bit of truth behind his words.
“I didn’t mean it that way. Sorry if I hurt your feelings,” you said. “Frat guy.”
He chuckled as he backed into a parking space in front of the fraternity. “Frat guy is saving your ass tonight, so a bit more respect please.”
“Sorry mister frat guy, sir. I apologize.”
You followed James into the house, which had all the lights off and was empty, contrary to your prior beliefs.
“Boys are all out at the bar. Except for Mike,” he quipped.
The house looked completely different than it had when you were at the party. Classy and strict, a lot of old dark wood embellished the floors and furniture. You peeked into the living room and it was actually quite cosy without the beer pong table and blaring music.
James walked up to the wide staircase on the end of the hallway and turned around. “Rooms are upstairs.”
“Uh yeah, I figured.”
So there it was. The moment you had to tell him that you hadn’t intended the same thing he maybe had thought of. There was a nasty lump in your throat. How should you bring it up? Maybe he wasn’t even thinking about it and you would just burst in with the unasked-for info that you didn’t want to sleep with him tonight.
“Hey um,” James began. “Just so you know, I won’t try anything. I can sleep in the living room if you want.”
God bless.
“Thanks,” you said and felt a wave of heat on your cheeks. Where has your confidence gone? Get a grip.
“Okay, let me show you my room then,” James said and offered his hand.
He led you up to the first floor that had doors to the bedrooms all around. They all had the initials of their names on the doors. His one was the third in line. JP in gold with a little lightning bolt next to it.
You pointed at it and asked: “What does that stand for?”
“I’m fast,” he said and smiled smugly. “Everyone in the team gets a nickname.”
“And yours is Bolt?” you asked as he opened the door.
“Flash,” he winked. “Excuse the mess.”
James went to pick up a bunch of dirty clothes from the floor. “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
“No big deal, it’s not so bad.”
It really wasn’t so bad. The room was probably the same size as your shared one was, but with a private bathroom. The dream. His bed stood in the corner of the room - white sheets, very chic. On the opposite side was a sideboard with a medium sized TV on it, next to it was the door to the bathroom. His desk stood right by the window, a wardrobe to its left, a small fridge to its right. He’d hung lots of little photos of him and his friends and football fan articles on the walls. It was a bit messy, but it had character.
“Your room is really nice,” you said as you walked around and looked at the pictures.
“Thanks! Make yourself at home. I’m just putting the clothes away and I’m gonna take a shower real quick, I still smell like bar.”
“Sure.”
He closed the door to the bathroom behind himself and left you alone in his room. High level of trust. As you heard him turn on the water you walked over to the other side slowly, letting your fingers run over the sheets of the bed when you went by.
On the sideboard with the TV was his football helmet, freshly cleaned and shiny as a new penny. You noticed a small ball lying right beside it. The one he had gotten at the blood drive yesterday. It still had dents from his fingernails all over it. Looked like he had been more nervous than you’d thought. You smiled and dug your own finger into it, leaving one additional notch, before trying to switch on the TV. It would be nice to have some background sounds and avoid awkward silence later, but the remote was nowhere to be seen.
After looking at the sideboard, his desk and bed you went for the nightstand. Intrusive? Probably, but maybe it was in there.
You sat down on the bed and opened the drawer. No remote. But some other things. A small notebook and a nibbled off pen, as well as a framed picture of two people. They looked like husband and wife - both had grey hair, were probably in their seventies and smiled kindly into the camera. His grandparents? Well, since it was in there and not on the wall, he probably didn't want to talk about it.
You closed the drawer and swung your legs up onto the bed. Sitting, waiting, wishing. Wishing for confidence and poise and that your palms wouldn't start sweating every time James looked at you. Right now it felt like his whole room was staring you down. Like it was eating you up. But not in a bad way, it was a welcoming feeling to sit there and gaze over the bits and bobs of his belongings.
When you noticed that the water had stopped running you took out your phone to try and look like you hadn't been spying. A few moments later James returned in a plain white shirt and grey sweatpants. Quite the look on him admittedly. His hair was still wet, some drops of water running down the side of his face to his jawline and even further down to his chin. God damn, you couldn't take your eyes off him. He must have done this on purpose.
“You good here?” he asked as he ran his hand through the wet mess on his head.
“Uh-huh, I am. Was trying to find the remote, but didn't.”
“Oh um. I think I know where it is,” James said and threw himself onto the bed, half lying, half crawling and stuck his arm under the pillow. “There we go.”
He turned on the TV and switched channels for a while until he stopped on the news. The news?! You both sat in silence pretending to be interested in whatever the reporter was talking about. Note to self: There can be awkward silence even if you have background sound.
Trying to think of something to say turned out to be harder than you'd thought. What do you talk about with a guy that had taken you home because you had asked him to, while he lay next to you, smelling like a pinewood full of sunshine and fairies? The fact that there was an inch of skin showing between his shirt and pants wasn’t helping either.
“So-” - “Do you-”
After minutes of silence, you had both decided to start talking in the same second.
Both of you laughed at your mutual awkwardness and James sat up straight.
“Sorry, what did you want to say?” he asked.
“Nothing really,” you admitted. “I was just... I don't know. Go on, please.”
He grinned like he was glad that you were more nervous than him. Looked like it gave him a confidence boost. As if he needed one.
“I wanted to say that I can give you clothes to sleep in. You didn’t bring anything in your handbag, did you?”
“No, I didn't really have time to pack when I was running from the fucking in my room. But it's fine, you don't -”
“Oh, come on,” he said. “You don't want to sleep in jeans. No one wants that.”
“Yeah, I guess I don't.”
He crawled off from the bed and walked over to the wardrobe. “I'm afraid I don't have anything sexy,” he joked. “But a frat shirt will do I think.”
He laid it down next to you before sitting on the bed again.
“Thanks, James. I'm gonna go change in the bathroom.”
“Sure. I put out a toothbrush too if you want to brush your teeth.”
What a mom.
The bathroom was small but still better than one on the hallway. You took off your clothes and put on the shirt James had given you. It looked huge on you. Dark red with the fraternity name Kappa Delta Rho on it, it reached almost down to your knees, like a really unflattering dress. It was soft and smelled nice though. Not like pine wood and fairies, but sweeter. Clean, fresh cotton with a hint of washed out cologne.
The toothbrush he had been talking about laid next to the sink, still unpacked and new. Did a stock of dental hygiene products mean he had people here often?
After you were done in the bathroom you went back to James' room, where he was lying on his bed again, watching TV with one hand behind his head, the other one tucked into his waistband. This time, it seemed he couldn’t take his eyes off you. A dumbfounded expression on his face as you walked towards him and the way he eyed you up and down made you instantly feel better about yourself. There was your confidence boost and you had very much needed it.
He cleared his throat when you sat down on the bed. “Well. If you want to sleep now I can go downstairs and -”
“No,” you interrupted him, maybe a bit too eagerly.
“Sorry?”
“I… I think you can stay. If you want. I mean, it’s your room. That wouldn’t be fair, to invite myself over and send you down to sleep on the couch.”
“Oh.” He looked more confused now, his hand wandered to the back of his neck. “I mean yeah. I’m glad to stay if you want that.”
You smiled, lifted the blanket to crawl underneath it and lay down sideways to face him. “I think that’s what I want, yes.”
He got under the blanket as well and said: “We can watch a movie if you want.”
Half an hour into “Baby Driver”, you had caught James looking at you twice. But the only reason you caught him was that you had looked over as well. It was absurd really, how every move he made got your heart rate up to 180. Every time he breathed in deeply or stretched out his legs you thought he would reach over and hold your hand. And suddenly, after checking his phone, he did. You were so focused on coming off relaxed that you didn’t even grip it back. It must have felt like you were dead until you remembered that you weren’t. You held his palm tighter and felt his thumb running over the side of your index finger, which made your stomach tingle.
“James?” you asked.
“Yes?”
“You’re really nice. I mean really,” you said even though you didn’t know where those words were coming from. “You know at first I thought you were just this guy, screaming with a beer keg on his shoulder. And I thought you were cocky, which… You are when I think about it.”
He laughed lowly. “That started as a compliment and ended as an insult.”
“I know, sorry” you bantered. “But you’ve been a real gentleman, very sweet and respectful and I didn’t expect that. Thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, wearing a smile that showed he was really full of himself right then, but that didn’t matter because his face neared yours now.
A kiss so sweet, it would have literally swept you off your feet if you hadn’t been lying down already. His lips, soft and mellow, skimmed over your own and it felt like listening to music; easy and pleasant as you found your rhythm and moved to the imaginary beat. His damp hair tickled your forehead until a simple peck brought your song to an end and a foolish grin seemed to refine it.
“How does it feel?” he asked after some seconds of silence.
“What do you mean?”
“Being in a frat, wearing a frat-shirt, kissing a frat guy in his frat-bed?”
“Oh shut up,” you laughed pushed him off by his shoulder.
He countered and started tickling you, to which you started screaming, turned around and kicked his legs.
“Whoa, easy Rambo,” James chortled and held you tight.
“No mercy for a tickler,” you answered and let your hand rest on his arm. “You’re a fool, James. I like you.”
The next time you opened your eyes was when a ray of sunshine beamed right into your face. You tried to shift but couldn’t until you noticed that James’ arm was still around your waist and held onto you even in his sleep. His breaths were slow and deep, his skin soft on yours and you could have easily spent the rest of your day in this position.
That was until you took your phone from the nightstand and checked the time. 9:17! Shit. You had forgotten to set an alarm last night and your first class started at 10. You had to leave right now, or you wouldn’t make it on time. So you shuffled away from his grip, got up, put your clothes on and went out the door.
While on your way to the dorm you took the time to shoot James a message:
Feedback & comments are always highly appreciated. Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged :)
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Things I love about I Am Not Okay With This
The characters are all depicted as the absolute gremlins that high schoolers are, giving actual high schoolers relatable characters, and older audience members characters that they can look st and go ''yep, that's about the level of chaptic disaster I was in high school." They are awkward, emotional messes of teenagers who aren't conatantly doing interesting, edgy things and who use the phrase 'we sixty-nined and everything' to "prove" they had sex. Also, they're not sexualized (which should never be a thing for teens, and the fact that this is common in other shows is incredibly unsettling).
When Sid says she lives in a shitty town/the show attempts to portray her family as poor, this is actually shown to be a thing. The characters live in small houses without/unable to afford amenities like air conditioning (at one point Sid and her mom are annoyed by the house being hot, and AC is never brought up as a solution), Sid walks what looks like at least a mile, maybe a couple, to and from school, the only teen with a car isn't actually supposed to have it, and the teen characters are either expecred to help run errands because they are the only ones with the time to, or left functionally self-sufficient. It's made clear the characters aren't able to afford many nice things, and the plot doesn't forget about that when it might be more convenient/make them look cooler. Essentially, the show accurately portrays its characters' economic situations rather than doing what some teen shows do with the whole 'yes I live in a small, poor town and I'm struggling very much... anyways now I'm never going to wear the same outfit twice in the emtire show and I have a very expensive car'.
Sid being gay is just a thing. Her sexuality is explored in the 'do I like my friend, and does my friend like me back' way, not in the 'OH GOD I'M GAY' way, which is nice because there aren't a lot of narratives where the character just happens to be gay and it's not a huge thing. However, the show also doesn't avoid confronting homophobia in plot-relevant ways, and Sid's narrative about struggling with her sexuality is tied really nicely into the premise of 'teen whose life is already an emotional disaster (including said sexuality struggles) that she's struggling to handle now has to learn how to get her shit together so she doesn't activate her superpowers which are triggered by intense emotions'
Sid is a flawed character. She's irresponsible with family-related things, handles her anger badly, can be mean to her mom, and often doesn't think things through. She's also a likeable character. She cares about her friends, wants to protect her little brother, is sometimes witty, and as time goes on, handles aknowledging her mistakes really well. And her flaws are shown to come from serious emotional trauma (losing her dad, discovering her powers, etc.), which doesn't excuse her being a jerk to people, but does create empathy.
Sid doesn't tell Standley why she doesn't like him ronantically/sexually, because she doesn't have to. Unlike so many other works of fiction, the show doesn't perpetuate the extremely harmful idea that someone has to justify their lack of attraction. It doesn't matter that she's not into him because she's gay - she's just not into him, and that's all that meeds to be said on it.
Stanley's reaction to Sid not being into him is entirely respectful. He's confused, because he's not aware of the whole 'Sid realizing she's not into banging dudes/is into banging girls thing after she and Standley banged and she kissed Dina' thing, and sad, but he never attempts to pressure her into dating him.
The show escalates things REALLY WELL. It starts off just letting the audience get to know the characters, establishing who they are and what thwir lives are like, and creating various plot points/tension based around interpersonal drama. Then it slowly introduces Sid's powers, then her mysterious stalker, then delves into the mystery of exactly how she got her powers. Also, there is as yet very little explnaation/answers, just enough to keep the audience om the edge of their seats, and I love that.
THERE ARE SPOILERS IN THIS BULLET POINT, BEWARE. When Sid realizes her diary is gone and everything on general is going to shit, she 1) acknowledges her mistakes, apologizies for them, and attempts to make amends, and 2) decides that the only way she's going to be able to handle thhngs well is to just... stop worrying. Obviously, it's not quite that simple, but it's made evident that this isn't a snap decision; this is the culmination of her character arc where she's gradually gained confidence. The costume design choices are also excellent here, with the t-shirt replacing her usual sweater/hoodie being a fun way of symbolizing there's a weight off her shoulders, and the whole thing is really satisfying to watch after seeing this character go through so much shit.
THERE ARE EVEN MORE SPOILERS IN THIS BULLET POINT, BEWARE. The show doesn't shy away from horror. They could have had Brad just drop dead or something, but instead they LITERALLY made his head explode. And because of all the effort that got put into the buildup, it's a fuckig glorious payoff with excellent shock value. If you want to build up a bunch of suspense and then give your audience an action-packed sequence that releases it, this is how you do it.
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