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i-trash-about-things · 3 months

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a.n.: I can't believe this took me 6 freaking months to write. It definitely doesn't live up for the hype, but for some reason the words just wouldn't flow. In the mean time, I graduated! Actually went to prom! It kinda sucked, I really don't see the hype behind it!

Anyway, enjoy– and thank you for the patience to those that were interested in this story. If you're still interested by the end of this part– well, you'll know for yourself if there will be more lol ;)

Multiple perspectives (3rd and 1st person); Henderson!Reader; GN!Reader; use of Y/N; Billy Hargrove Survived (but he isn't a racist piece of shit); Everyone might be OOC, sorry lol; swearing; light violence; mostly fluff; English is not my first language! Sorry if something doesn’t make sense :p; no beta, we die like Vecna should’ve

4.5k words.

Third Time's The Charm.

Dustin’s day has been good, in his less than humble opinion.

School sucked the same as always, but hey! Everything other than that was actually pretty awesome!

His older sibling popping by on a whim wasn’t a rare occasion, far from it. When they first moved to college, he cried the whole day thinking he would only see them on Christmas, and now it’s like they never moved in the first place!

Well, maybe it’s because of the Upside Down thing and how they almost died about a million times in the last 4 years, but Dustin liked to believe it’s because they just love him very very much.

But, one thing actually did change.

Eddie.

“Dustin, my man, my favorite nerd, what a sight to the sore eye you are right now!”

Speak of the devil.

Him and Eddie have known each other for a while. I mean, how could he not when the metal-head has been his sibling's best friend for almost all his life?

And with the time to get used to each other, plus Dustin’s natural attentiveness and attention to detail, he can read this guy like the cheap rip-off comic of spider-man he is.

Eddie wants something.

“Is that a new upgrade to your walkie? Dude, that looks sick, what does it do?”

“Nothing, it’s just a normal radio actually.”

“Oh.”

A snort leaves his nose. Dustin shakes his head, setting the walkie talkie on the library table before looking up to his friend.

“You really aren’t subtle, my friend.”

“First things first: how dare you. Secondly-” Eddie pushes the nearest chair back, giving him enough space to sit on the old table. The notebook under him crinkles, but he just pushes it aside, clearly in too much of a rush to care about a random person’s notes. “I need your help.”

“If it’s about the whipped cream on Lucas’ backpack and his basketball shoes, it’s too late. The operation is already in motion.”

“Operation- wait, did you put whipped cream on Sinclair’s shoes?”

“What? No I didn’t. You didn’t hear that from me.”

“Mhm.” Eddie just sends Dustin a look, raising an eyebrow with just a very done expression on his eyes, before shaking his head. “You know what, I’m just going to pretend I didn’t hear anything.”

He leans closer, likes he’s about to tell the biggest secret of his life. The notes beneath his butt crumble further.

“It’s about your sibling.”

“Y/N? What they have to do with anything?”

“I’m gonna ask 'em to prom.”

If Dustin were drinking something, he would’ve done a spit take right now.

“WHAT?!”

“SHHHH!” The other school library attendees shush him, all glaring in their direction. Dustin flushes a little, curling into himself, but Eddie doesn’t even flinch.

“I want to take your older sibling to prom, Henderson. Like, real bad.”

“Dude!”

“What?!”

“That’s my sibling!”

“And my best friend! So??”

“So–” Dustin sputters. How does he even respond to that?!

Don’t get him wrong, of all the people he could’ve picked to compete for your hand, Eddie would always be his champion. His two favorite people??? Sign him up!

Doesn’t mean his into it, tho!

“Why?!”

“What do you mean ‘why’?! You’ve ever met ‘em?! They're the coolest most beautiful, and funniest person I’ve ever known! Why wouldn’t I want to take them to prom?”

“No, not that- why the change? I thought you wanted to go with Chrissy??”

That gets a reaction out of him.

Eddie flinches, looking away. He passes a hand through his hair, half hiding himself beneath the brown curls.

“Chrissy… She’s…”

Dustin does not like the hesitation. The kid crosses his arms over his chest, squinting up at Eddie with distrust.

“Look, I’m all for you going after my big sibling–”

“Really? That wasn’t what it looked like two seconds ago.”

Dustin squints further, frowning, and Eddie groans.

“Just keep going.”

“As I was saying, I don’t mind you taking my big sibling to prom… If you actually mean it.”

It’s his turn to frown, a mirror of Dustin’s expression, but in confusion and a little bit of offense.

“What? Why wouldn’t I mean it?”

“You were just drooling over Chrissy, like, two days ago! I get you getting rejected, but don’t use them as a rebound, dude!”

“What?!”

“SHHHHH!” Strike two, the people around them shush them both again. Dustin doesn’t flinch this time, both him and Eddie a bit too enthralled in the topic at hand.

“How could you say that?! You know how much I care about Y/N!”

“I know that, but I also know how much they cares about you.”

“What does that has to do with anything?”

“Uh- Literally everything? What, you think you can just go and ask them all willy nilly to go to prom with you like it’s no big deal, and they won’t feel like it’s a big deal? Thye care, dude! What you say matters to them!”

Something in that makes Eddie pause, breath hitching on the tip of his tongue. He knew that, of course… Didn’t he?

His mind flashes back to the three years ago, just in the middle of prom season.

“Y/N Henderson, you did not–”

“Oh but I did! I did, despite it all!”

Eddie feels the bright afternoon sun on his back, the ever warming spring air making his hair and their hair flutter in the wind.

Today has been a weird day. His friends all seemed either jittery or smug, like they know something he doesn’t, a joke he didn’t get the punchline yet.

But the weirdest thing? His best friend wasn’t waiting for him by his parking spot.

At the end of class, he found a pretty envelope on his locker, attached to it a blue little flower– one of the few he recognizes. Forget-me-not’s.

“6 years sure go by fast. We’ve been through a lot in that time, didn’t we? And we will go through a lot more shit, knowing us like I do.

I was hoping you’d indulge me on a little game, just for old times sake.

Check the supply closet closest to you.”

From then on, he went on a surprisingly elaborate scavenger hunt. Passing through closets, to bathrooms, even checking in with his friends when the little clues told him to. Surely enough, each one handed him a new letter, and each one had a soft and excited smile on their lips.

After a good half hour of running around the school like a headless chicken, Eddie had accumulated enough clues to fill both his pockets and enough flowers for a small bouquet. The last letter sits on his hand as he dashes around the halls, a big smile on his lips.

“Ok, I promise this is the last one– for real this time, I swear.

This had been a rough year on you, but I was hoping to send it off with a bang. One last middle finger to the world before I have to leave you behind to fend for yourself in the lion’s den.

So, Edward Munson, meet me by the woods, in our usual spot.”

“Henderson, you absolute maniac!” Eddie all but jumps over the picnic table, practically throwing himself on his best friends arms. They don't even blink, only opening up and holding him. Firm, steady and warm. Their laughter feels like electricity and care all at once over his skin, and he breaks into goosebumps.

“Did you like it? Had any fun?”

“Hell yeah I did! How long have you been planning this, dude?!”

“Ah, who cares about that?” They flick their wrist, like trying to get rid of an annoying fly. Eddie’s way too used to their dismissive and nonchalant nature at this point, so he just laughs and hugs them close again.

“Jesus Christ, Henderson, what did I ever do to deserve you?”

He can’t see, but their smile softens. The hold on him tightens, and they buries their face into the mess of his hair.

“You’re you. That’s more than enough.”

After a beat, they finally pull away from the other. Eddie doesn’t even questions at their dazed gaze, used to it at this point, even if he never truly knew the reason behind it. He squeezes their shoulders, still a little incredulous at the situation. Taking his little moment of silence as an opportunity, Y/N steps back and takes one last flower from their pocket. It’s a little bit beaten up after being squashed in the hug, but it makes Eddie’s heart feel tight anyway.

“Look, I know this hasn’t been an easy year for you. You’ve been through a lot of shit, dealing with shitheads like Carver and Hagan, and that you didn’t graduate, but… But I wanted to make the end a good memory, you know? Eat junk food, dress fancy for once in our lives, pretend that we’re the protagonists for once, you know?”

They take a deep breath, eyes locked on the little flower on their hand. It’s impossible to lift their head and finally gaze into the eyes of their best friend. The love of their life.

Bah, call 'em dramatic. They're already way too deep into this cheesy bullshit to care.

“So. Eddie. Eds. Angel. Would… You, maybe… Like to… Gotopromwithme??”

Well that was smooth.

Still, it doesn’t seem like he cares about their awkward stumbling.

Instead, he just pulls them into one more hug, laughing like a maniac.

“Yes! Of course I’d like to, you dumbass! You’re my best friend!”

And those words make their heart races and breaks, all at once.

They let the little blue flower fall to the ground, unbothered by the numbness on their fingertips.

“I know. You’re my best friend too, Eds.”

Eddie shakes his head, locks brushing against his nose at the intensity. This is a crisis for another time.

“I know, believe me. But I’m telling the truth! I don’t care about Chrissy, I legitimately want them to be my date!”

Dustin raises an eyebrow, feeling the genuine longing in Eddie’s tone. It’s a surprising match to his siblings, every time they talks about Eddie. That lingering bitter-sweetness in the end of the sentence, the longing in each and every word. He’s heard them rant and ramble, on and on, about the metal-head more time than Dustin feels like counting, he knows that tone. It’s a perfect match.

So, he sighs, leaning his head back against the library’s chair to the point his cap almost falls off.

“Fine, I’ll help.”

“Yes!”

“SHHHHH!”

…

Today was… Weird.

Maybe it was the way the sun was beating down my face, too hot for a spring day, maybe it was the fact that the 7-11 I passed by didn’t have my favorite slushy flavor, but something just seemed… A little off today. Like someone just tilted the world a little bit to the left.

I take a long drag from the cigarette between my lips, watching the shining sun from my spot by my car. Sitting beside me is none other than Billy Hargrove, the same glare up at the sky as mine.

It’s always funny hanging out with Billy by the school’s grounds. We used to beat each other up in this same parking lot, about two years ago! And now look at us, sharing a can of coke beneath the spring sky like two dads waiting for their kids after football practice.

“I can hear your brain about to cook up some weird shit to say, Henderson. Please keep it to yourself.”

I don’t even blink at his harsh tone, putting a sugary sweet expression and leaning to lay my head on his shoulder.

“Awn, I know you love my commentary.”

He’s quick to brush me off, with not nearly as much strength as he used to a few years ago.

“I’d rather hear the screams of children.”

All I can do is snort, laughing slightly before taking a sip of the can between us.

Billy is one of the only people acting somewhat normal today, same snarky responses that once made me lunge for his throat and same pissed off frown.

He’s also one of the few people I trust the most, funnily enough. What can I say, he’s seen the worst in me and somehow still sticks around- probably because I’ve seen the worst in him too, but still. Maybe that trust is what made me press the halfway burnt cigarette into the ground and turn to look back at him.

“Hey, dude?”

“Hm.”

“Is it just me or is everyone kinda off today?”

And to my surprise, he doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, he raised his own cigarette to his lips, taking a long and deep drag.

“Nope, just you.”

“Pfft, weird, something tells me your lying?”

“Something? What, like voices in your head? Damn, I knew you were crazy, Henderson, but this is new ground.”

“Billy.”

“… Hmph.”

He stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets, sunglasses tilting down just enough to see the look he sends me. I shake my head and he relaxes. There’s a small pause after that. He flicks the cigarette ash off, before glancing to me again.

“Look, it’s nothing you have to worry about, ok?”

I can’t help but chuckle at his words, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Last time you said that, you were possessed by a god damned spider monster thing.”

“Yeah, but this time I’m not. So chill out.”

Isn’t he sweet?

I chew on the inside of my cheek, breathing in slowly before letting out a long long sigh.

“Fine.” A pause. But then I turn to look at him again, with the most serious expression I can. “But if you are possessed again-”

“Fuck off.”

“Pfft-”

The loud ringing of the school bell quickly brings our attention back to the front doors of Hawkins High. Like clockwork, they open and the sea of teenagers roll out, flooding the parking lot. My eyes drift between faces, looking for any sign of my favorite club, but the first thing I catch is a familiar cap and a mess of red hair.

Dustin immediately runs up to me, his cap hitting me on his attempt at a dive hug. Max is not so far from him, but instead of the affection attack she just flips Billy the bird… which he quickly reciprocates, smirking.

The two types of siblings.

“Hey, Junior.” The sarcastic and rougher edge to my voice quickly melts off, turning to the normally sweeter and more relaxed tone reserved only for my little brother. Dustin immediately turns to me, smiling like he always does- but, of course, there’s something off.

“Hello there, older sibling figure.”

… ok.

I just let out a chuckle, a little weirded out. See? It can’t be just me, everyone’s acting all skittish for some reason. Did I miss the memo?

Max pushes Dustin’s cap over his eyes before he has the chance open his mouth again, her eyes literally screaming for him to shut up. Then, she turns to me.

“If he hurts you, tell me. I’ll kick his ass.”

“… What???”

The hell’s going on?

Dustin clears his throat, pushing his hat back and sending Max a half hearted glare.

“As I was about to say- Eddie told me to give you this.”

From the depths of his many pockets, he pulls a… letter? A note, better said, scribbled in a chicken scratch of a writing I know way too well.

Before I can open it, he quickly pulls me so I look at him again.

“I’m gonna catch a ride with Max today I’ll see you later ok bye-”

And he practically drags Max to Billy’s car… which she weirdly let’s him do. I look back at the blonde next to me… and he doesn’t even blink at the interaction, stepping on the rests of his cigarette before turning away from me without a word.

What…. the hell.

As the familiar camaro drives off the parking lot, leaving me to my lonesome by my truck, I glance down at the note in my hands. Crumpled notebook paper, with the little bits used to wrap around the spiral still attached, and that familiar handwriting.

After a huff of amusement, I open up the letter.

“Greetings, dear adventurer! It is I, Eddie the Pardoned (we really need to workshop that title).

This is your formal request to join in on an adventure through the ever changing land of Hawkins High school. Walk across the mighty and dangerous hallways where jocks once slammed our faces into lockers, or traverse into the terrifying lands we call the gym showers!

Follow the riddles and clues, and if you’re lucky, the gates of a whole new adventure shall open to those with brave and worthy hearts.

Good luck.”

“Dramatic dork.” I mumble beneath my breath, but the smile on my lips can only be described as disgustingly smitten.

I look over the note again, flipping it between my fingers. Surely enough, more writing in the back.

“Those who trail my path are the best liars, but also the most emotional of artists. The many nights you’ve spent between my walls, you were never quite yourself. Oh, wow, he really wasn’t kidding on making riddles, huh?”

I can’t help but let out a chuckle, raising my eyes from the paper in my hands and looking around the parking lot. There’s a lot of people walking around right now, most speeding to get home after a long long Friday, but my eyes don’t catch a single hint of anyone using the familiar Hellfire shirt. Which is definitely weird, they’re normally the first ones to leave the school. Still, no sign of Jeff, or Bryan, or Gareth, much less Ed.

I look back down to the riddle.

“The many nights you’ve spent between my walls” So it’s a place, then? One I’ve been before, if Eddie isn’t being a little shit and using “you” because he thinks it sounds better.

“Those who trail my path are the greatest liars, but most emotional of artists.” Greatest liars? And most emotional of artists. Well, if it’s a place, related to art, then the art room? But then why the lying?

“You weren’t quite yourself.” Wasn’t… quite myself. Hm.

A place, probably one at school since I doubt he would’ve gone so extra as to go around the entire city, related to art and lying. “Wasn’t quite yourself.”

…

Wait, the drama club?

Art of lying- could he mean acting? A room related to acting in which I’ve been to before.

The drama club, at D&D nights!

My feet are moving before my brain is, crumpled up note being carefully stuffed into my pants pockets.

…

Not far…

“The bird has taken flight, over.”

“Dustin, will you stop with the codenames?! Just- Just get into position! Over!”

…

How many damn riddles can this man write??? I must’ve collected more than twelve by now!

There’s a small collection of notes in my left hand, my pockets too filled up to stuff any more of them without damaging. My shoes squeak against the floors of the mostly empty school, echoing in my ears as I run from room to room, classroom to classroom.

I swear, If this is some sort of elaborate prank, I’m going to kick Eddie’s ass until Halloween comes.

I let out a groan leaning down to reach another, stuck beneath my– well, not mine, it hasn’t been mine since I graduated– seat at the iconic Hellfire Club lunch table. When I turn to the back, I’m surprised to see there isn’t a riddle this time, no little set of verses to greet me. So, after a small hum of interest, I fold it open.

“If you’ve reached this point of your quest, fair knight, I’m proud to tell you your prize awaits you! (Because I’m not like SOME people who do FAKE OUTS THREE TIMES IN A ROLL)

All that’s left is for you to come and get it. Your king awaits in our usual spot.”

-E.M.

“Pfft– my king?” I can barely pay attention to the soft laugh that leaves my lips, chest too warm and filled with cotton to notice. Dork.

Still, I just set the note with the rest, walking to the nearest exit with a smile on my lips.

I’m still have no idea what Eddie is planning with all of this. Despite the dozen plus notes, he hasn’t gave me a single of hint for the reason of this scavenger… Hunt.

…wait.

I mean, it’s not– it’s not possible, right?

He was talking about inviting Chrissy less than a week ago!

Nah, nah, yeah, it’s not… He wouldn’t. Not me, anyway.

…

Well I just made myself sad.

A groan leaves my lips as I shake my head, hair flowing around with the motion before bouncing and stopping, strands sticking to my eyelashes. Enough with the self pity. I’m better than this. Whatever it is that Eddie has planned to me is going to be awesome.

The hallways echoes with my steps, the sound of my combat boots squeaking in the shiny tile flooring being the only sound as I leave the school. It’s late afternoon at this point, the sun starting to set as everything is painted golden. The walk through the woods is longer than I remember, the late spring wind ruffling through my clothes. After a while, I’m reaching the clearing…

And there’s no one here…?

“Eddie?” I spin in place, looking in between the trees for any sign of the silhouette I know better than my own. It’s quiet here, with the exception of the singing birds and early crickets. I stuff my hands in my pockets, and my brows twitch in worry. “Did I take too long…?”

When I pull them back, one of them holds the last hint. It’s impossible to be anywhere else– he literally said our usual spot, and this is it, isn’t it? Unless my first suspicion was right, and he really meant to spread these around the town– wait, no, then why would he set them up around school? What am I m–

“BOO– OW!”

“EDDIE?!”

My knuckles sting, heart beating louder than a drum as I stare at my fallen best friend, cradling his own face. Immediately I reach for him, falling to my knees by his side.

“Jesus Christ, Munson, you scared the shit out of me! I’m so sorry– Oh, god dammit, sweetheart, c’mere, c'mere… Let me see…” I gently tug his hands from his face, touches practically feather light and with as much care as I can channel. He laughs all the while, completely unbothered by the forming bruise on his cheek.

“Jesus Christ, Henderson– You pack quite the punch! Holy crap, I think you dislocated my jaw–”

“Stop saying shit like that, you’ll manifest it.” I chuckle under my breath (but do check his jaw, making sure everything is in place and I didn’t punch one of his teeth in.). “Why the hell you sneaked up on me like that? What thought process made you think that was a good idea??”

“I don’t know!” He laughs, falling limp on the grass while looking up at me. His smile is almost dopey, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he said he just got baked. He doesn’t smell like weed, tho. Just smoke and cologne, the one that makes me wish I could bury my nose into his neck and just live there. “I thought it’d be a good idea? All I needed to do was distract you for a little while!”

“Distract me?” I snort, brows tilting in a playful frown. “From what?”

“Shit–” And at the sound of my brother’s cursing, I lift my eyes from my best friend’s face.

What do I find if not the rest of the Hellfire club, haphazardly stacked on each other’s shoulders putting up a huge banner on the branches of the nearest threes. Jeff has Mike on his shoulders, while Bryan has Justin– and Lucas and Gareth watch a few steps away, clearly trying to not bring attention to themselves as I turn to them.

“Michael, if you ruin my jacket with your dirty ass shoes–”

“I’m trying not to! Stop moving!”

“Guys! Guys, I’m gonna fall! BRYAN–”

“You’re not gonna fall, Dustbin– stop being a pussy and just tie the goddamn thing.”

“What the hell…?” I mumble, even more confused than when I found the kids sneaking Eleven into Mike’s basement.

Eddie doesn’t answer me with anything but a cackle, getting up to his feet and jogging up to the rest of the club. His grin is so wide his dimples are lost between smile lines, brown eyes shining in the late afternoon sun that warms my skin and cheeks. He skids to a stop under the banner, not even waiting to check if it’s tied up properly before tugging the bottom and unrolling it.

‘COME DITCH PROM WITH THIS FREAK?’

And the arrows badly painted on the bottom point directly at him, that turns around to beam my way with his smile brighter than the sun.

…

I don’t know if the guys have fallen silent or if I just gone deaf, but I don’t have the mental power to look. It’s like the whole world turned… quiet.

My heart can’t seem to choose between skipping beats or skidding to stop. I can feel my skin tingling, my knuckles going from stinging to burning. As does the back of my neck and the bottom of my gut.

I read the words, over and over again, shocked…

“Is this…” My tongue feels like it’s knotted, tied and shipped to the other side of the country. No words could ever describe– whatever the hell I’m feeling right now. “Are you… Is– Are you for real??”

“Yeah.” He chuckles, the warm orange lighting almost making it look like his cheeks are dyed a soft red. His smile is confident, almost cocky and playful as he looks down at me. “As real as a I can be.”

My mouth feels drier than a desert, and I swallow harshly. I can’t turn my eyes from him, like I’m transfixed… which, in someways, I am.

He has hypnotized me, a puppet on his strings.

I feel starstruck.

Eddie takes my silent as a go ahead, because after standing under the banner for a second, he slowly walks to me again. For some reason, I don’t even think to get back on my feet until he’s almost right in front of me, his head obscuring the sun as if he’s the only star I need.

“Henderson,” He says, the smirk on his lips almost sheepish. “I’ve got to apologize. I’ve been… kind of a shit best friend for the last couple years. You’ve been my paladin, my white knight, the voice of reason when I wasn’t thinking and I didn’t even thank you properly.”

He extends his hand, the black stone in his ring finger catching the sunlight from his smile.

“So let me make it up to you… Will you let me take you with me to not-prom?”

My throat closes up, my eyes sting, but my smile is as bright as the moon.

“Yeah, I will.”

And I take his hand, letting him pull me to my feet.

taglist! @eddiesgirlforever @plk-18 thx for the support and the patience!! :D

#eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #HD&SC #god it took me SO LONG to write this!#six months!#jesus!#hopefully next part will be easier #although it will DEFINITELY be the longest but no spoilers #on other news #i edited this while high on cold medicine and in great pain from cramps #sorry if something doesn't make sense #eddie munson #trash's writing tag o/

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colleendoran · 11 months

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OK, so you are looking at a comic I did back in 1990 that changed my life in so many ways. Not the way you’re thinking of.

It taught me some very important lessons about the comics business, fame, and more importantly, how fame doesn’t rub off. And how having reasonable expectations will keep you centered and on the right path.

Many people don’t internalize this lesson. And now that our industry is no longer just Fandom Culture but is now Celebrity Culture, we see more and more creators with incredibly unrealistic expectations getting into comics, expecting the sun and moon to rise out of whatever they do, and being disappointed and frustrated when they don't.

I got occasional mainstream comics work in the early 1980’s, but I was still looking for my big break years later, especially since a major gig I was working on got shelved forever. I cannot even begin to tell you just how much being out of the eyes of the market for YEARS at a time while you work on a gig - and then the gig never coming out - can absolutely sink your brand.

Nowadays we have social media. Back then, you had no way to be seen if your work wasn’t being published. People forgot about you in about 15 minutes.

So when I got a gig working on Amazing Spider-Man, you bet I was thrilled. And even more thrilled when the darned thing sold like crazy. This issue of Amazing Spider-Man outsold previous Todd MacFarlane issues. And I knew Marvel was looking for a new artist. Huzzah! I outsold Todd! Maybe the new artist should be me!

You can imagine how pleased and excited I was to go to conventions and sign copies of a book that hundreds of thousands of fans bought. It was fun getting my first big lines of fans. I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to push my other works to them as well.

But few Spider-Man fans were interested in my other books. They could not possibly care less about Amethyst: Princess of Gemworld, that’s for sure.

The Spider-Man glow was gone in no time. And Marvel picked Erik Larsen to be the regular artist.

I might as well have never worked on Spider-Man for all the long term good it did. Were it not for that one brief shining moment of royalty check (which was darned good,) it had no effect on my prospects.

While I got more work at Marvel, I was scrambling to make a living and took on too much, doing sub-par art that didn’t please anyone.

I realized pretty quickly that Spider-Man’s fans weren’t my fans. I might as well have been a spark plug on that issue. Fans lined up, got me to sign a book, and forgot about me the next day.

(Yeah I know some people say they love that comic, but I often hear from people who tell me how much they hated my art back then and how much they grew to love it later. Thank you, I’ll take it.)

Anyway, it was all a very tough lesson. But I appreciate that I learned it early before I got to the point where I could never learn it.

Fame isn’t transitive. It doesn’t rub off.

The public needs more than your proximity to something they know to transfer their attention to you and your work.

A lot of people got a taste of this in the early 1990’s. For a while, self-publishing was The Big Thing. I self published A Distant Soil and did well for some years, at one point making more than I could in mainstream comics, until the market crashed in 1996. A lot of creators thought if they just went to Image Comics, they’d all be millionaires.

That didn’t happen for almost all of them.

An old frenemy saw how well I was doing self publishing and assumed that if they just transferred their mainstream comics fan base to their creator owned work, they’d get rich.

But that didn’t happen. Their self-published work sold a fraction of what mine did. Their project died in the red. I never got my art back, including work from an unpublished future issue of the project. I remember being with this creator at a show and enduring their fury at how fans weren’t paying attention to them and their project.

How could this happen? They were a star mainstream creator!

The mainstream cred did not transfer to the other work. The fans wanted the famous characters, not the indie project they were trying to push.

There was no point in explaining this either. I’d learned this lesson myself, but this person never learned it.

Most people never learn it.

How is it that I work on Famous This or with Famous Person and why am I not famous Too?

Because fame isn’t transitive.

I’ve worked on projects that got a lot (and I mean a lot) of buzz, but there are projects that didn’t necessarily set the world on fire that did more for me as an artist and for my finances than “big” projects did.

Reign of the Zodiac and The Book of Lost Souls, both early/mid 2000’s comics with mediocre sales set me on a solid financial footing because they are two of the few regular monthly gigs I’ve done in all my years working in comics. That monthly paycheck paid more than the projects I’d done before them. The financial and emotional stability was beyond price. I loved everything about those projects.

Except for their premature demise.

The one and only famous project that had a major transformative afterglow effect re: me and my work was Sandman. I met Neil Gaiman years before I worked on Sandman, before he was famous. I only worked on two issues. Many other artists were far more important to the project than me, of course. Then I went for nearly twenty years solid without working with Neil at all except on a pinup and short story adaptation of Troll Bridge that almost no one remembers.

I started working with Neil again when he saw some art I did for a book for Tori Amos back in 2008. Tori Amos fans didn’t flock to my side when they saw it, yet another example of how Famous People Fame Doesn’t Rub Off. But I lavished time and attention on the project, did the art on spec with a completely new style and process, and showed it to Neil. I asked Neil if he’d take a chance at working with me again after lo, these many years and let me have a go again at adapting the story Troll Bridge that I’d botched in 1998. Neil said yes.

After The Book of Lost Souls got killed back in 2006, I could barely get arrested in comics and I wasn’t sure I had a future. I was shocked that Neil said yes.

That Tori Amos job reestablished my working relationship with Neil and brought me to Dark Horse Comics, a publisher which had shown little prior interest in my stuff.

It took me years to complete Troll Bridge and during that time, Peter David contacted me to ask if I’d work on Stan Lee’s autobiography. That came out of the blue, and boy did I appreciate it. It sold like crazy, which was unexpected, really.

So I went from Not Being Able to Get Arrested in Comics in 2008, doing 1$ sketch cards and working for page rates I worked for in 1986, to Not Being Able to Remember What I am Doing Because I have Too Much To Do in 2022. I mean literally couldn’t remember I did a pinup for a gig back in February, and I not only forgot about it, I didn’t know it was published last June.

It looks like I had a super fast and fun run up if you’re just looking at my highlight reel. But it wasn’t. I’ve had peaks and valleys, (a few very fine peaks, the best being around 1993 and the other now), and sometimes the “big time” projects I thought would make my career held me back worse than the “small time” ones. “Big time” projects got shelved or came and went, quickly forgotten, and I said no to other projects while I was busy, and the one that got away ended up getting made into a multi-million dollar film franchise that would have set me up for life.

Ow.

If just being next to a famous person or working on a famous project was a guarantor of success, than I’d have been hugely successful every day of my adult life.

That is not how it works.

Even the famous people are not as all that as you think, otherwise you wouldn’t see so many actors with haunted looks on their faces at conventions.

I met Neil before he was famous, but it took over thirty years for me to establish a solid working relationship with him.

Thirty.

Years.

I’ve worked with famous wrestlers, actors, musicians, politicians, a Pulitzer Prize winning author, and on almost every single major licensed character there is. And I’m not super-famous or rich. I mean, I never wanted to be famous in the first place, but I’m not completely unknown in my field, and I’m not poor (anymore). Still, seriously, folks. I’m not going to movie premieres and living in Hollywood.

I actually get asked about that, and I think it’s so funny.

I was watching some recent art auctions, and I was absolutely shocked to see original pages by an Eisner-nominated creator go for rock bottom prices, mainstream interiors at around $50 per page. I could not believe it. This artist is over 40 years old. I wonder if things will turn around for them.

Time will tell.

In the end, it’s not all about the people you’re standing next to. Or the character. Or the company. Or the award. And it's certainly not all about you.

Fans are here for you one minute, and forget about you tomorrow. Then you get $50 for your Eisner nominated art.

Art either takes off or it doesn’t. You either take off or you don’t.

And then you can fly too close to the sun and fall.

Worse yet…you just fade and no one even notices that you crashed beautifully into the surf.

If people knew what the magic formula was, they’d be selling it and everyone would have what they want out of their art life.

But there is no magic formula. There just isn’t.

Everyone wants to be special to someone. Especially artists. Everything you create is special to you.

But it is extremely rare that what you create is as special to others as it is to you. Sometimes artists are just like everyone else.

Here and gone.

Fame and success is not transitive. And they're not forever.

That’s the lesson.

I'm working on Good Omens right now. The Kickstarter pre-sign up news is here. No, it's not an icky newsletter, it will just let you know when the Kickstarter launches.

I have a Patreon. I'm funding the final volume of my space opera A DISTANT SOIL with it, but I won't be working on it again until Good Omens is complete. I have one of the most active and productive Patreons on the site.

I'm also on Twitter and Facebook and Instagram. Not too much though, they are distraction pits.

Make art because you love it. Because the rest...well, good luck. If it happens for you...it happens. And I hope it does.

#comics #neil gaiman #sandman #essays #comics industry #fame #spider man #tori amos

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gravedigginbbydoll · 8 months

Text

Sweeter Than Sweet Tea

Eddie x Southern! Fem! Reader Blurb

AN: Hey y'all! So this came up while I was rewatching Steel Magnolias (one of my favorites)! I myself am Southern if you can't tell (lol). I def amped up the reader's southern belle persona, but it's a cute little bit of fluff to keep ya goin! But now I'm craving southern homecooking (namely fried okra and fried green tomatoes) and weirdly ambrosia salad and green salad (it's not really salad, its like fruit and whipped cream and nuts lol). But anyways enjoy and please reblog and like as per usual!

Warnings: Bullying, Southern Slang, Slight VIolence, Enemies to Lovers sorta, Fluff

When Eddie first met you, it was the equivalent of an old schoolyard crush. For some odd reason, he loved to get on your nerves. He’d tug on the closest part of you, make some inappropriate comment, and grin ear to ear as you tore into him. You never quite understood why. Until that fateful summer evening.

Indiana got hot, sure, but nowhere near as blazin’ hot as your home back down south. You figured that was why some folks in Hawkins sometimes were so snooty, the summer sun wasn’t enough to melt their frigid hearts. Then again, you didn’t much miss the sweltering summers or the way the older women with hair higher than the heavens in your hometown would glare and mumble about you headin’ straight to the devil’s whorehouse for simply being comfortable.

You were in town having a day for yourself, dressed as pretty as a magnolia in May. You wore your favorite sundress with some wedge sandals, your toes painted a pretty pale blue. You were looking around in the old antique shop, smiling down softly at a set of delicate plates. You were pondering buying it (after all, 5 dollars was a steal), when you felt a tug on your dress. You turned around, clouds setting on your sunny disposition at the sight of the ever rebellious Munson boy. He was dressed in a dark pair of jeans and a loose band t-shirt, his leather jacket hanging off of his shoulders. A cigarette hung from his mouth loosely as he grinned.

“You headed to church, Darlin’?,” Eddie teased, exaggerating the drawl to mock your own.

You frowned, pouting up at him. “No. I like to dress nice for myself. Now leave me be…” You scanned him up and down, frowning disapprovingly at his cigarette despite it being unlit. “And take that thing out of your mouth, for cryin’ out loud. You’ll give Mr. Millan a heart attack if you set off the fire alarm.”

Eddie smirked while removing the unlit cigarette and tucking it into his jacket pocket, clearly not taking the hint. You tried walking away but he followed on your tail like a lost puppy. “C’mon sweetheart. It’s hard not to tease you when you look like you’re about to be awarded the best lil pupil in Sunday School.”

You glared at him, out of the corner of your eye, your annoyance growing. “Well, now, Eddie Munson, I didn’t think you’d know what a church was if it landed on your backside. Can’t you ever learn to leave me alone?”

Eddie’s eyes twinkled with mischief, his face full of boyish charm. If he wouldn’t be such a damn nuisance, you might have found his teasing charming…hell, adorable, even. He leaned against a shelf full of knick knacks and dusty books, looking comically large next to the tiny items. “Sorry, kid. You’re fun to mess with.”

You huffed, turning to look at the collection of odd salt and pepper shakers and cookbooks. “You know I am not a child and I know you have about as much maturity as one.” You thumbed through a cookbook to keep yourself busy, scrunching up your nose at the recipes. You sure did miss pecans, frito pie, sweet cornbread and fried okra. Hell, you even missed those potlucks your mama used to host full of old gossipers trying to catch the latest town news. At least those old coots knew what an ambrosia salad or fried green tomatoes were. You placed the book back down.

Eddie tugged on your dress again, grinning so wide you thought his mouth would split open as you spun around in a huff and yanked the pretty fabric out of his rough hands. “Now will you quit it! I’ve ‘bout had it with your dumbass!,” You exclaimed as quietly as you could in the practically empty store. You felt your accent come out thickener as your face heated up. “I'm leavin’ now. Good day, Eddie Munson.” And with a huff and a swish of your skirt, you were out the doors and back into the warm embrace of the sun, headed to Patty’s Ice Cream Parlor. You weren’t going to let that damned fool ruin your day out.

You were sitting at a booth, enjoying your solo sundae of butter pecan ice cream and hot fudge. You sat there, stewing over Eddie’s consistent annoying quips and his obsession with bothering you. You stabbed your ice cream with the spoon, huffing softly. Where did he get off on bothering you anyway? You usually were polite and kept to yourself in town. You hadn’t made many friends outside of Nancy Wheeler who worked with you part time at the local dress shop when she was home from college. Maybe he found your mannerism funny, kinda like Jason Carver and his wife Chrissy Cunningham.

Chrissy and Jason often showed up to your job. The two were known as the town high school sweethearts who stuck around, Jason inheriting his fathers business while Chrissy stayed home. The two had it out for you since day one in town. You had shown up, dressed casually with your favorite pair of cowboy boots on and a cowboy hat to block out the sun. Chrissy and Jason had just happened to be at the diner you had stopped in, happy to welcome a pot of coffee and some pancakes. You sat at a booth, laying your hat down the right way, looking around. Hawkins had that old school charm. However, within the first few minutes, you’d received some backhanded compliments from the Hawkins’ Sweethearts themselves. Jason and Chrissy couldn’t help ever since then to laugh at your funny drawl, the foods you cooked, or even the clothes you wore. It was a pain.

As if the two were summoned by your thoughts, you saw them waltz through the door, arm in arm, giggling away. You sunk in your seat, staring down into your sundae and hoping to disappear. You heard a jingle of a chain and a flash of black as Eddie came into the seat in front of you, making you sit up and forget about Chrissy and Jason.

“Hey, Darlin’, I couldn’t help but-”

“Edward Munson, leave me alone. I’ve had it with you-” You stood up to walk away, only to be met with a cone of chocolate ice cream smeared across the front of your favorite dress. You gasped, looking up into the eyes of Chrissy who stood there with an evil smile. “Oops. Sorry, hun,” She drawled out, face twisted into a sneer as Jason laughed. You felt your eyes sting with tears as you sniffled and the room blurred. With a muttered, “Pardon,” you ran off to the bathroom.

You stood in the bathroom, wiping at the gown with fury, wet paper towels piling up on the counter. You sniffled, trying to keep from crying. Why did you even try? Everyone in town laughed at you and called you a “Hillbilly Belle”, makin’ fun of you for your upbringing. You charmed the socks off of the older folk but got yelled at for calling people ma’am and sir, all of them assuming you were calling them old. You sniffled and wiped at your eyes, splashing water on your face with determination. You’d go out there, smiling and bright as ever, head home, and put on some Dolly Parton and some comfy clothes, snack on some Moon Pies and maybe even make a nice cold pitcher of sweet tea.

You were headed out of the bathroom and down the hallway when you heard some arguing in the main area of the shop, the teen employees all terrified and huddled in the corner. You peeked around the corner, surprised to see the impressively angry Eddie have a fistful of Jason’s shirt and growling out some threats.

“You keep your filthy grubby hands and your wife’s gross self away from that girl, you hear? She is too good for this town and I’m not letting two assholes like you run her off because you have nothing better to do with your life. Now leave a fuckin’ 50 on the table to pay for that pretty dress you ruined and get the hell out of here before I kick your ass.”

Jason scoffed, eyebrows furrowed and expression in a snarl. “Whatever, freak. You would defend that hick. It’s not like she knows anything but how to farm and suck-”

A sickening crack echoed through the ice cream shop and in a blur of arms and legs, you saw Jason laying across the tile flooring, holding his nose while groaning. Eddie stood over him, fists clenched at his side and shaking as your heart soared. “Now leave, jackass. Otherwise I’ll do a lot more than just break your nose.” Eddie’s tone took on a fearful growl, your skin raising in goosebumps and your face heating up as your breath was caught. Something about the boy who was usually chipper and overly flirtatious with you turning into a ticking time bomb at the first instance of you feeling unhappy made your heart skip a beat and your legs squeeze together. Jason scrambled to get up, dropping a 50 dollar bill on your table, rushing with Chrissy out the door. You shyly rounded the corner, watching as Eddie glared after them, hands still clenched.

“Eddie?,” You softly called, the middle of the ice cream shop empty except for the two of the and the few teen employees who were probably waiting for you and Eddie to leave in fear of the protective metalhead.

Eddie spun around, face softening as he walked up to you, careful to not touch you as he searched your face and person. “You alright? I’m sorry those two were being such jerks-”

You felt your heart thump in your chest as you looked up at him, biting your lip. “Why did you do that?”

Eddie looked shocked, his face going ashen. “You saw that?”

You nodded.

Eddie ran a hand down his face, sighing and looking about 5 years older. He bit his lip for a bit before looking at you and sincerity came across his face. “Look, I know it seems silly but…I like you a lot. Your silly little twang, the way you dress. I love how every time I go to Benny’s I know if you’re there based on if Dolly Parton is played on the old jukebox. I love how cute you are when you’re annoyed and how you’re the most polite person I know unless it’s with me. I like ya, Darling. And I don’t really like people messing with my things or friends,” He trailed off, playing with the rings on his bloodied knuckles, gaze drifting away in shyness.

Your heart jumped to your threat, your mind racing. Now all the pieces of the puzzle made sense to you. Why Eddie hummed Dolly around you, why he left honeysuckles in your mailbox back home, or why he would stop by the dress shop at least once every few weeks claiming to be looking for something for his ‘cousin’ only to leave empty handed. You felt your insides turn syrupy sweet as you melted and kicked yourself for not realizing sooner.

“Now we don’t-”

You cut him off with a hand, looking up and smiling. “Tomorrow. Pick me up at 6 P.M. Dinner.” You poked him with a manicured nail softly in the chest, giving him a stern look. “And dress nicely please. It’s a date, not a football game.”

Eddie perked up, grinning ear to ear as he blushed dark red. “Y-yeah, okay.”

You walked off as he stood there in shock, completely forgetting about the big stain on your dress and waving bye, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

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whoishotteranimepolls · 1 month

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Major Update

The request will be opening soon because I'm down to like the most obscure requests that I'm actually struggling to find photos for. So in preparation of this I have to get a lot of announcements out of the way so this post might make a lot of people angry. Might make some of you happy But I need to get this out of the way before I open up the request again.

Let's start with the things that I know are going to piss people off as of right now. No. Webcomics no. Webtoons. Yes, I do know several webtoons/webcomics have been turned into anime. Those will be allowed but that's because they're anime now. Also no mechs. However, this is just for now. Remember I've only been doing this blog for maybe 3 months. So let me get more into the groove of things before we add on all of those things. So maybe when I've been doing this for 6 months to a year we can start allowing that Web comics, webtoons and mechs but I'm already struggling with keeping up with requests and keeping enough stuff in the queue as is. So I don't want to complicate things even further and make things as easy as I can on myself. Now there is a reason for this because I may be changing jobs soon and I don't want to have to put the blog on temporary hiatus during that transition.

Now on to the next thing and this is probably going to make a lot of people happy but people please do not make me regret this decision. But, after hearing the many lamentations from mostly the Naruto fandom, much personal debate and seeing how a similar blog handles things. I have decided to lower the minimum age for the polls to 16. Now that means minors can and probably will be matched up against each other and against 18+ characters. Please don't come at me about that choice, these characters are fictional. You can't hurt them, and a blog like this isn't going to normalize preying on minors. YES it's wrong in real life, but anime teenagers are not normal teenagers. I literally just finished an anime about a assassin trying to get back to his wife. He was 16 and had a wife I swore he was at least 20 sometimes anime ages don't make sense. Please don't start anything or I will start blocking. But for those of you who don't want to participate in those polls, I will make a special tag so you can block all polls that have confirmed 16 and 17-year-old characters So you can block the tag so you don't have to see it and participate You will be able to find it when I update the rules post in the next day or two when I have everything finalized. Now this is subject to change if people do not behave. So do not start attacking me because I allow this or I will bump that age back up to 18. Do not make me regret this

Now when it comes to requests you have 10 characters and can request up to Four-way matchups. I don't care how you break that down so you can do two four-way polls and a two-way poll or request five two-way polls don't care. Figure it out. I'm pretty sure everyone can do math but the max is 10 characters However, you want to break it down with two-way, three-way and four-way polls.

I'm also setting a limit on how many times you can request a day. Please only do it twice. That's up to 20 characters. So everyone gets a chance to request polls

Remember Six-Way polls are not something you can request directly. They are something I make as a special thing, when the queue leans too much into one character or fandom. However, you can suggest a theme. I have done fire and ice powers. You all seem to like the goth girl and the anime men in suits. You get the idea. You can always put some theme ideas at the bottom of your request. So I can add them to my list of themes that I have saved when I need to make a six-way poll

I think that is all the major announcements So now with these updates everyone can start thinking of the new matchup request because they will be opening up soon and that request box fills up fast

#major update #not a poll #announcement post #blog update

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mamawasatesttube · 7 months

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This might be old-fashioned of me but I miss when comic books were less about shitty character growth the characters don’t need from writers who don’t really get those characters and more about just those characters going on silly adventures.

I recently been reading the original JLI comic run and how the fuck is a comic run from the 80s better than all the comics dc released this year together? (In my opinion) it just baffles me how, idk, somehow the love for writing these stories got lost along the way. I read the jli run and writer and editors notes and clearly there was some level of thought put out in this, despite it being just silly almost episodic stories most of the time. There’s isn’t really anything like that now-a-days, these stories feel like they’re being put out just for the sake of it.

I guess the point I’m trying to make here is that i wish Kon (and half of Superfam honestly) just had writers that genuinely love him, or at least put some level of thought into the comics they’re writing, comics now a days just feel so soulless, it’s such a pity :/

<🦎>

first off i LOVE the lizard signoff. that's iconic of you

but yeah no i'm in full agreement. generally i try to keep an open mind towards newer comics (some of them ARE fun! just... pretty much only the ones introducing new characters.) because i do think nostalgia glasses are a factor in how much we all praise postcrisis era. like some of that shit was dumb as hell too (war of the supermen i'm looking at you). so i try to keep in mind that we mostly care about the new earth comics that were good and ignore the bad ones, but all the same...

the number of writers that seem to actually care about the story they're telling lately does seem... low. they all seem so soulless and safe. you just know no modern comic would have cassie join a fucking resurrection cult or have tim doing a boogie in the cloning basement. everything is neat and packaged in little boxes so it can be easily sliced up for people to post on twitter or tiktok, with pithy one-liners and tired, rehashed tropes to sell the deal no matter how out-of-character they may be. everything is resolved nice and neat and clean and there's no character development needed. if a character has a flaw, it'll be hammered in as heavily as possible so you KNOW the author knows it's a character flaw they need to overcome.

so yeah. it's by and large just so ... flat.

i think the only comics dc is putting out that are really worth keeping up with to me at this point are like. new characters. spirit world, city boy, that sort of thing. with existing characters they're kinda just getting mangled.

#answers #Anonymous #im also still mad that the only thing kon and kara did in house of metallo arc was get blown up.#that's old news but it still feels emblematic of how every character who isn't a Main Flagship Character is reduced to set dressing #and superman himself gets the ''he has to teach everyone to be kind'' shtick where he isn't actually given interesting character traits #idk. idk im just soooo :/

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ashtronomyys · 9 months

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Roast Chicken

The entire week had been pretty shit for Simon. A new group of recruits brought all kinds of new trouble, arrogance, and disobedience that higher-ups like him needed to wring out of the soldiers. Then about halfway through the week, Price informed him of some errors with the last round of paperwork. So, late-night tea time was spent huddled over his desk scrounging through stacks of documents till his eyes gave out on him.

And to top thing's off, the mini rec room shared between the squadron had a run-in with an ant infestation. Simon had planned to put a kettle on the stove when he rounded the corner and found Gaz spraying the bug killer along the floor.

"Oh hey! Sorry mate, looks like someone beat us to it this morning." Gaz stops to stomp on a few particularly stubborn ants hiding along the tile. "Woke up this morning to make a pot of coffee and the bastards were in the bloody coffee pot! I think I got most of them, but you might want to be careful, yeah? They were all over the counters earlier."

"Which counters?!" Simon's voice comes out harsher than intended, already fearing the worst. Sure enough, Gaz gestures along the far right counter. Simon nearly rips the handle off the cabinet while he's opening it. One look inside and the last bit of life in Simon's body leaves and shatters on the ground.

His Yorkshire tea. All the boxes he stockpiled. Now swarmed to the top with little black ants making the tea bags their new home.

So yeah, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that this week had been one of the hardest on his psyche in a long while. It was almost a blessing that the snarky little sergeant that was usually at his side was off on leave. He had the tendency to test his limits when it came to Simon. And one wrong joke with the lieutenant this week may wind up being the last one the sergeant makes.

"You sure those are the only reasons why you've been a right pain in the ass this week Simon?" Price had asked. The masked man shot daggers back at his captain.

"What else would I have to be mad about Price?" He handed the daunting stack of papers back to Price. The man chuckled behind his paper mug, hiding a smirk. "Nothing. Nothing... Well anyways, in unrelated news, Soap should be back in tomorrow! I'm sure he'd love to hear all the stories of your woes and misfortunes this week."

"Tch, I'm sure. He's not going to let me hear the end of it." He's going to have material for weeks when Gaz tells him about the yelling and crying he did when he was tossing out his tea.

"Oh lighten up Simon. You /know/, I'd hazard a guess that you actually missed the man more than you're letting yourself believe."

Simon lets out a cut-off laugh at that one. "I'd hazard a guess that you've lost it, old man!"

"Oh alright, I'm not even /that/ older than you!" Price shakes his head at him. "On that note, you're dismissed. Go and get some shut-eye," he stops to give him a once-over. "You need it."

Simon tosses another side-eye at the older man before he leaves. Once his door closes, Price groans to himself. "That boy could not come back soon enough..."

The next day, Simon wakes up with s scowl still on his face. The energy he sends off as he walks through the halls of the base sends chills down everyone's spines. It's as if he's singing the air around him with a black haze of /Do not come near me/.

That is, until the end of the day. As he nears the (now freshly cleaned out) rec room of the 141, a smell draws his attention. He can hear the sizzle of something cooking on the stovetop and the clatter of drawers being pulled. The savory smell drifts from the small kitchen and spills out into the hallway, tempting Simon to investigate further. Like a moth to the flame, he enters the room in a hunger-driven daze, coming to a stop at the entrance.

Oh, of course, that's who was drawing him in. It was honestly pretty comical how domestic the sight Simon walked onto was. Johnny had his back to him while he stirred a pan on the stovetop. A radio played some generic, slow tunes and he swayed his hips to the rhythm while he cooked. He must've just come back, seeing as he was still wearing his civies (a generic grey tee and figure-hugging pair of jeans) and his duffel bag was sitting on the couch.

Here, the sizzle of the skillet was even louder. The aroma of sauteed meat and spices was overpowering now, causing Simon's stomach to rumble. Johnny whipped his head around, his face lighting up when he saw who was by the entrance.

"Heyya Lt! Where've ye been?! I didn't see ya with the welcoming party at the gate." He turned to lower the heat on the stove, letting the food simmer. Turning back to Simon, he crossed his arms and gave the man an accusatory look, jutting the side of his mouth with his tongue as he spoke. "If ah' didn't know any better, ah'd say you didn't even miss me!"

"You wish Johnny," Simon huffed. "Been busy. Training ran late and a few of the soldiers needed a little... we'll say /positive reinforcement/" That positive reinforcement being several laps around the training field for a few too many pointed remarks about the mask.

"Aah, so that's yer excuse," Johnny jabs back. He bounds up to the lieutenant, not backing down despite the heated glare he gets from him. Instead, he comes up and fist bumps his shoulder, a lopsided smirk playing on his face.

"Bah, ah'm sure it's nothin' my ole Lt couldn't handle, aye?" He pats his back, his hand staying there as he transfixes Simon with a more serious stare. "Well anyways, it's good to see ye again, Si."

Simon doesn't know what it is about Johnny, but it's moments like this where the older man questions just how the hell he ended up in a situation like this. The hand on his back almost seems to soothe the embers that have been on fire ever since this week started. It's as if all the stress and tension he's held onto begins to slide off his shoulders the second Johnny blinds him with that wide, toothy smile.

God, he's so fucked.

A louder grumble from his stomach breaks the silence between the two. Johnny jumps excitedly, the thought of his food likely brought back to his mind.

"Oh! Are ya hungry?! Ah' almost forgot, I brought some leftover roast my ma and I made. C'mon, ye've got to try it!" He's already moving to fix a plate up for him before he can even respond.

Fuck it, he could give in to the seargant and pig out after the week he's been having.

With the dish finally in front of him, he has to admit, it looks pretty damn appetizing. Pieces of leftover chicken roast with traces of ground pepper, garlic, thyme, lemon, and other ingredients mixed in with carrots and other vegetables greet him. Johnny makes his own plate, leaving Simon to try it for himself.

He skewers a piece of the chicken, lifting the edge of his mask up and bringing it to his face. The first bite of the savory meat nearly elicits a groan from Simon. Maybe it's the stress he's been under, or maybe it's just that good. Either way, he finds himself getting lost in the dish.

Something about the chicken and the way it was prepared brings back memories of his own childhood. It wasn't often that they'd have the time or energy to indulge in very many different kinds of dishes. He still remembers one of the rare off chances that they did, barely tall enough to see over the counter but still helping his mom labor over the roast. Knocking into his brother Tommy who kept wanting to fight him over who got to do what. Simon watched one of the few fleeting moments of joy from his childhood as if he were watching an old recording. It was like he was living through the experience again, decades of trauma and heartache a distant sting. The taste of freshly roasted chicken on his tongue bringing back memories of the chill in the winter air, the soft glow of fire in the furnace, the soft vibration of his mother's laugh...

"...ye alright Simon?" the sergeant had gently asked. Simon jolted from where he sat, blinking away the wetness from his eyes. Since when the hell had he been crying?

The man cleared his throat, voice coming out more hoarse than he would've liked it to be when he spoke. "Y-yeah, yeah. Yeah, I'm uh..." His tone shifted back into the gravely vibrato he usually uses. His heartstrings felt rubbed raw from the vision. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

He stole a brief glance back toward Johnny. The man was sitting across from him at the table (and since when did he get there?). He stared back at him with wide eyes and a slice of chicken hung limply from his fork.

"Ehm... right, emm... no reason." He also cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, no doubt trying to shake off the uneasiness hanging in the air. "So um, h-how do ye like the food?"

The soft smile he gives Simon manages to settle some of his fried nerves. One of the nice things about the seargant is how swiftly he can handle the perturbances that seem to follow him. Either be a shoulder to cry on or give him the space he needs. Simon figures he ought to return the favor, at least try and lighten the mood a little. "Hmm, could've used less garlic."

Johnny actually gawks at him for that response. "Wha- /rude/!" Simon's happy to see the man break into a laugh, throwing his head back and shaking. "Ya fuckin' bawbag!" SImon doesn't hide the smirk that begins to spread across his face.

"Ach well, I was trying to follow my ma's recipe. She popped in to help towards the end but ehm, maybe ah've got a bit of learning to do still." He chuckles, but Simon notices the way his gaze drops back down. How his eyes bore into the chicken, self-doubt emanating off the man. Whether over the chicken or Simon, he can't tell.

"It's perfect Johnny," the lieutenant speaks just above a whisper. "It's my favorite actually, reminds me of home." There's another pause before he continues. "You should make it again sometime."

Their eyes meet again. Brown eyes, typically dark and gloomy and hiding layers of suffering shine brightly in the dying light. And bright blue eyes, who's edges usually give way to tumultuous, rocky waves soften into a rooted, tranquil state.

"Och, of course. Anytime Si." Johnny pushes out from the table. Grabbing dishes to stack in the sink, he pats Simon's shoulder as he passes by. Any lingering stress hanging in him melts away at the touch. "Glad to be back Lt."

He hums in acknowledgement. Simon relaxes into the seat and watches him deftly drown plates and pans into the sink water.

"Glad to have you back Johnny." He's rewarded with a beaming smile thrown back over his shoulder. And a nice view of Johnny swaying his hips to the music in pants that really fit him way too well.

/Fucking Christ/, he's so fucked.

....................

Once again got inspiration after one of Samuel Roukin's live signings. Someone asked what his favorite dish was and he proudly exclaimed "my mom's roast chicken!" So now it's Simon's favorite as well, sorry I don't make the rules.

#soapghost #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #cod mwii #food mention #ash writings #can you tel I dont cook #this was like three ideas combined into one #I dont know how I did that but I hope it flows ok lol #ghoap

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soleminisanction · 2 years

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If you ever have the time/interest, would you break down the canon surrounding Stephanie’s economic circumstances/home life? It seems like a lot of people have chosen to take it a specific way so I’d love to see your reasoning

Sure. Thanks for asking, it's honestly a fun topic.

Y’know it’s funny—I actually happen to own something that I think most people, even most Steph fans, haven’t seen: Steph’s first appearance. Not her Robin first appearance, her Detective Comics first appearance, her actual introduction. I happened to pick them up by accident at a con a few years ago because they’re also some of Tim’s first cover appearances.

Other people might disagree with me on this, but I like to go back to the characters’ origins whenever I can to find the baseline of what they were originally intended to be and try to bring later interpretations in line with that. I like to think of retcons as new revelations, new plot twists in an ongoing story, and not a way to reset aspects of the past just to fit your story. It works especially well for this because Steph’s socio-economic status doesn’t actually change, there’s just kind of a game of telephone that happens across the decades that leads people to misunderstand.

One thing worth noting in these early issues is just how much Steph, a 16-year-old girl, has at her disposal before she ever even glimpses Batman and Robin. Literally the first shot we ever see of the Spoiler is this:

And because I am, in fact, that kind of nerd, I have gone in a couple of times and dug out old era-appropriate electronics magazines to figure out what that piece of equipment would cost you in 1992. Baseline for a parabolic microphone is $600, and that price is for much larger, more delicate pieces of equipment meant to be used for like, outdoor nature shoots, which wouldn’t be able to hear through glass. Steph probably dropped $1,000 on that microphone alone.

Remember also that her costume is homemade—she doesn’t have any other way of getting it. She’s also shown using some pretty elaborate climbing and painting gear, with no indication that they were stolen or borrowed or anything, and you can see that she’s got a pretty well-stocked utility belt there.

Again, for some reason people tend to forget or overlook this but, right up until she demanded Bruce make her Robin, Steph operated as Spoiler with zero Bat support. She got some hand-to-hand training from Cass late in the game and tagged along on some of Tim’s assignments, but was otherwise being actively discouraged from vigilantism for most of her career. She made her own costume, bought her own equipment, and maintained her own motorcycle, all without the financial support of either Batman or her parents.

So right off the bat we know she’s a teenage girl with a not-insignificant amount of personal disposable income, the only hinted source of which is the implication she works a part-time job somewhere—which I don’t think is ever brought up again when she reappears in Robin.

We all know minimum wage went further in 1992 than it does now, but it didn’t go that much further. So it’s reasonable to assume that Steph has access to at least some money from her parents to support her vigilante habit, whether that’s in the form of an allowance, gifts that she carefully manages between Christmas and birthdays, or money that she’s able to just, take from Crystal without her noticing.

But this page is more important to our current interests because it’s also when we see Steph’s neighborhood for the first time. We’re told here that Steph and her mother (who is called Mrs. Agnes Bellinger in this comic, although it’s possible she was using a fake name to visit her ex in prison) live in what is described as “115 South Holden Street, in Manchester.”

Now keep in mind, the Gotham City map can be extremely fluid and tends to change depending on the needs of the story. But there have been attempts to map it, and “Manchester” has never been on any of those maps, so we have to do some extrapolation. At the very least, we can tell the neighborhood is clearly not in the city, given the very deliberate angle there in the first panel to show that they’re well away from the crowded downtown Gotham skyline.

This implies that Manchester is intended to be one of the mainland suburbs that feeds the island city of Gotham, similar to Bristol Township where the Wayne and Drake Manors are located. It’s not nearly as nice a neighborhood as Bristol—note the fenced-in front lawns, the broken shutters on the neighboring houses, and the vaguely racist lawn ornament on the Brown’s property—but it’s also not some rundown slum. People aren’t afraid to let kids play in their front yards or leave their garage doors standing open. And you'll note those aren't trailers, either, they're decently-sized suburban homes.

Also worth noting: Crystal seems to keep this house perfectly fine on her own as a single mother. Arthur doesn’t live with them; when he’s shown having residences it tends to be apartments in the city by himself, and it’s not like he could support them from prison or with his ill-gotten criminal gains. And yet, we don’t see Steph or Crystal worrying at all about bills or mortgages or anything like that throughout any of their appearances. We see the interior of their house on several occasions and, while it’s often messy, it’s not in disrepair or neglect.

This is a constant portrayal throughout all of Steph's appearances, from Robin through even her run as Batgirl. So, with that in mind, where does the idea that Steph is poor come from? Well, I’ve got a couple of theories.

One is the usual comics fandom problem: canon is huge, nobody can keep up with all of it, and some people go out of their way to be assholes about it, so misinformation gets spread like wildfire, in no small part because Steph is a character that a lot of people use as a self-insert and therefore she must be the misunderstood underdog in all things.

But on the more-interesting-to-talk-about front… I don’t think it’s controversial to say that Steph’s first big storyline was her pregnancy. Yeah? Like, it’s the first story involving her that really started getting critical attention. Whether it deserves that attention is more open to debate—personally, since reading Icon & Rocket for the first time, I’ve come to view it as Dixon pulling the comic book equivalent of white guys repackaging black music and watering it down—but the important thing right now is that it’s the first time people would’ve been specifically reading the Robin comics for Stephanie Brown. And in those comics, Steph’s house is shown as visibly run-down, covered in cracks and disrepair.

Thing is, there’s a context that people miss if you’re reading for the baby storyline and nothing else: this storyline plays out over the last days of “Aftershock” and early months of “No Man’s Land,” the storyline where Gotham is racked by a destructive earthquake that nearly levels the city and is abandoned by the federal government.

Again, we get the reinforced confirmation that Steph’s house isn’t actually in Gotham because it’s not destroyed in the quake—the neighborhood is damaged and briefly evacuated due to a gas line rupture in the immediate aftermath, but once that’s cleared up they’re free to return home, and their suburb is not part of the federal government's evacuation. Nearly every building in Gotham is shown with similar damage during this time, including Drake Manor.

This storyline also plays into, I think, the stereotypes that people jump on when it comes to Steph’s socioeconomic status. Like I’ve mentioned before: Arthur is a criminal, Crystal is a drug addict, and Steph is a teen mom. Therefore, they must be poor, right? Because good middle class families supposedly don’t have those kinds of problems.

But, as I’ve mentioned before, that’s an inaccurate stereotype that ignores reality: plenty of drug addicts, criminals and teen moms live in the suburbs. And the Browns’ specific circumstances are distinctly atypical of the stereotype—Arthur’s not some down-on-his-luck thief pushed to crime by economic hardship, he’s an arrogant former gameshow host who thinks he’s smarter than everyone else and resents the world for not handing him the success he feels entitled to. Crystal’s not some crack addict, she’s a working nurse who used to get her doctor friends to write her scripts for prescription painkillers. And Steph is just a teenage girl who slept with a boy and got pregnant, with the costs of prenatal care and/or childrearing never seeming to be a factor in her decision to bring the child to term and give it up for adoption.

I could go on but that’s pretty much the long and short of it: Steph is simply not shown as being poor in the comics. Ever. She’s not rich, she does clearly rely on her fists much more than any gadgets or fancy gear and lives with her mother rather than moving out on her own for college, but she’s also never shown worrying about student loans and can apparently pay for all her classes with some government assistance and a part-time job alone.

People just assume that she’s poor because they’re misinformed, or they’re projecting, or they’ve got biases they haven’t examined, or they need her to be an underdog to justify their argument against one of the other characters, or they really want her to be buddy-buds with Jason for some reason.

Or, y’know, they just don’t want to acknowledge that they’re rooting for a middle-class white girl from the suburbs who commutes into the inner city to pick fights for fun.

#stephanie brown #is this critical? I honestly can't tell I don't think it's criticism to point out that she's not poor #dc comics #batgirls #robin #detective comics #meta #ask me stuff #anon ask #crystal brown #dc #arthur brown #the cluemaster

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sineala · 11 months

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Superheroes and Aging

Meta time! I was asked (on Patreon) to write meta about how Tony Stark might deal with feelings about aging and being surrounded by The Youth. I am reposting it here.

I have to say this has also been on my mind a lot. I will say it's a weird thing growing up being into comics and being a fan of the teenage X-Men because obviously they were the most relatable and then being as old as all the adult superheroes and now being older than all the adult superheroes, who have all been basically the same age for decades as the rest of us move on past them. At least they finally aged up the original crop of teenage heroes and have been replacing them with new ones.

So the thing about superheroes in Marvel Comics, as you probably know, is that they pretty much don't age. Initially, this wasn't really a thing Marvel worried about. It was the sixties and they'd made comics cool and profitable again and kids loved them and I'm pretty sure they weren't thinking that sixty years later people (grown adults, even!) would still be reading and loving and expanding on the universe they made. Because I think if that had been the case they'd have, say, fewer villains that really sound like someone thought of them in about thirty seconds at 5 pm on a Friday and then went home. Big Wheel, a guy who has a... big wheel. Swarm, a guy (I mean, he's not really... human) who is actually a group of bees. Nazi bees. Paste-Pot Pete. You know what I mean.

Anyway, at first Marvel heroes aged, because why wouldn't they? Despite what you would guess if you only watched adaptations, it only took, I think, a couple years for Peter Parker to grow up and leave high school. The original X-Men all stopped being teenagers. Time moved on. Then after about ten years Marvel figured out it was going to be a problem if their beloved heroes were too old to be superheroes and they more or less halted the aging process. And that's how we get the Marvel Sliding Timescale. Broadly stated, the Sliding Timescale is essentially "don't worry about it." Everything you are reading right now happens right now, the beginning (the FF getting their powers) happened about ten or fifteen years ago (I think right now it's closer to 15 and we're at four RL years = one comics year), and everything else that has ever happened in 616 -- because Marvel also doesn't believe in line-wide reboots -- is wedged in somewhere in the time between. As real time passes, the sliding timescale slides events closer and closer together because more events have now happened.

So the effect of this is that heroes don't age. I think this is actually most notable with child characters -- like, ask yourself how old Franklin and Valeria Richards are. Or don't. I think Dani Cage has been a toddler for about fifteen years now. So the founding Avengers started off in their early 20s, are now in their mid-30s, and are going to continue being in their mid-30s for the foreseeable future because Marvel doesn't want its heroes being over 40. I think there have been a couple IM issues where Tony has had "significant" birthdays that they carefully avoided putting a number on -- I think one was Bendis, and I know he had a surprise party in the Gillen issue with the adoption reveal. I want to say that maybe there was also a Fraction one? I'm not sure.

The time references have occasionally been lampshaded -- the most recent Iron Man issue as I write this (#6) has Tony asserting that he doesn't remember things by what year they happened in, but rather by what armor he had at the time. He goes on to tell a story of something that happened while he wore the Silver Centurion armor, throwing in an aside that the shoulder pads were fashionable then -- and, out of the armor, he is given his usual stylish perm; the artist has definitely been inspired by Bob Layton's later Iron Man work -- which for me has the disconcerting effect of making it sound like this is somehow taking place in the 80s and also not in the 80s at the same time. Because now they've invented an extra time for shoulder pads and perms to be fashionable and it's approximately 2015. Time is fake. No, actually. It is.

And building on that, I think the effect of that is that mostly they don't seem to have characters like Tony dealing with aging. He doesn't really seem to worry about it, probably because there can't be any narrative payoff if he's simply never allowed to age. (Steve gets it even more weirdly, because a lot of times fandom assumes the serum is just going to halt or slow aging -- as it does in people like Natasha who have serum variants -- but then in universes where significant time actually passes, like House of M, Steve is visibly older, and he definitely is meant to have the serum. Or Bullet Points, where Steve, minus the serum, is actually dealing with aging as he comes out of retirement for one last mission. Which kills him, because it turns out he probably was too old to do this safely. But then in 616 we're expected to believe that Steve can lose the serum and also be mostly combat-ready at age 95. Aaanyway.)

So what if Tony did worry about getting older? Based on how he interacts with the kids these days, I think mostly his worry actually wouldn't involve other people.

For all that intelligence in Marvel seems to be a single invariant and quantifiable statistic that can be accurately measured (which isn't the case in reality but work with me here) and that Tony is a genius but not The Smartest Genius in the Universe, he doesn't ever seem to display any ill will toward anyone ranking higher than him on the list -- say, Reed -- and he is in fact definitely willing to take on the younger geniuses, like Riri, as proteges, and he seems happy to mentor them. He doesn't seem to feel at all threatened by the idea that some of these people are definitely smarter than him -- say, Moon Girl -- and will someday succeed him. Or at least will if Marvel ever lets them age out, which again seems unlikely. Theoretically he also ought to be drawing on a lot more lived experience than Riri that he can use to advise her, but one of the bizarre things that Cantwell's run has left us with is Tony believing that giving the Mandarin's Rings to Riri to study with zero oversight is absolutely the right thing to do; Rhodey congratulates him on his great decision-making. I guess we'll see how that turns out.

(This is in contrast to a character like Doctor Doom, who clearly can't stand the idea that Reed might ever be smarter than him.)

Given that Tony is a character who often has execrable self-esteem, it actually seems a little odd that it doesn't bother him that he isn't the smartest, but it really doesn't seem to. He seems fine with that. He's enough of a genius to do what he needs to do, I guess, and that's good enough for him. Even in Cantwell's run, which was, uh, not a run I would call particularly in-character for Tony in many ways, the thing he decides to do with the Power Cosmic is make everyone in New York as smart as he is. I think this was a fairly poor storyline for a large number of reasons, but I think it does actually show that he has good intentions, in a sense -- he wants everyone else to benefit from the intelligence he has, the same way they can benefit from his philanthropy. He wants to give people the advantages he has. So he seems like someone who wouldn't resent the up-and-coming heroes and geniuses; he seems like he'd be honestly happy that there would be more people out there on his level.

I think, really, as long as he knows he's good to go, he knows he's good enough to do the things he wants to do -- even if sometimes he just hates himself as a human being -- and he probably looks around at all the kids and knows they have to train them up, because even if they're going to be good they're not as good as he currently is, just because they don't have the benefits of years of experience. I mean, maybe they could have some kind of superhero Registration or something. The joke he made to Steve at the end of Empyre wasn't entirely wrong.

(I feel like I should probably also read Young Avengers, for more on how the Avengers deal with The Youth, but I haven't gotten around to that yet.)

Since Tony often blames himself for, well, everything he can possibly blame himself for, including the deaths of people he feels he should have been able to save, I feel like his worries about aging would probably involve his ability to continually successfully be a superhero. We haven't really seen much of this worry since his Extremis/Bleeding Edge days but there was definitely a period of time where his main concern seemed to be the ability to compete with the people he's fighting -- and this seems like it might be where he's heading again in his confrontation with Feilong, who, I should point out, does actually attempt to make fun of him for being old. Tony doesn't seem to take it personally, but he does seem very upset that he's not on Feilong's level, technologically. So I think the thing that would bother Tony wouldn't be the idea that he couldn't keep up with the heroes, but rather that he couldn't keep up with the villains.

So, yeah, that's my take.

#posts i actually wrote

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vikenticomeshome · 18 days

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Cyberchase Character Discussion (for your local Cyberchase trivia quiz) - #3: Jackie

Here we go again. I've made this style of post about Inez and Matt, and now it's Jackie's turn.

#3: Jackie

Let's start with her bio from "Meet the Cybersquad". Again, this almost 25 years old now, so who knows how much of it is still canon.

So, we get our introduction to Jackie. She's smart, funny, has a plan, and is over-the-top. Yeah, that's accurate so far.

For some reason, this page was not in her original bio when they released it in 2001. They went back and added this page later in 2002. This is the only bio that I have seen that had content added like this. This page lets us know that her favorite color is yellow, and she loves tofu burgers. I don't know if the show has confirmed that she is a vegetarian or vegan. She is shown to care about animals, so I wouldn't be surprised if she was canonically a vegetarian.

Her favorite book is one that I hadn't heard about until now: "Walk Two Moons" by Sharon Creech. In this story, the 13 year old protagonist, Salamanca (Sal) Hiddle, goes on a cross-country road-trip to visit her mother. There are themes of coming to term with loss and building new relationships. It makes me wonder if, at some point in development, the show-runners might have been interested in giving Jackie a tragic loss similar loss to Sal. I haven't seen the later seasons where they bring in the kid's families, but I don't believe they have gone that route so far.

For her favorite music, we get two bands: Destiny's Child and NSYNC. These are very much a product of the time. Destiny's Child actually disbanded in 2006, as the members went off to do solo work. NSYNC disbanded in 2002, and then reunited in 2023. Well, we know that Jackie loves her R&B and Pop music, so I'm sure she found other bands to follow since then.

Her favorite movie is Shrek, which only came out in 2001. Matt and Inez have definitely sent her all the memes that have come out about that movie since then. Her pet peeves are bugs and anything messy. Yeah, that still tracks. She has a "Wheaton Terrier" named Brandy. I don't know if the spelling has changed over the years, or if they just made a spelling mistake in her bio, but I have only seen it spelled as "Wheaten".

Jackie also gets a bio from Nelvana, which is pretty cool. I've only been able to find surviving archives of bios for her and Matt. They have sections for Inez, Dr. Marbles, Motherboard, The Hacker, Buzz, and Delete. However, all of those are left empty in the surviving archives of the pages. I don't know if bios were completed for those other characters.

We get emphasis on the point of Jackie being organized. We also get more insight into how she solves problems. She uses diagrams, charts, and graphs among other things. She also touched on her tendency to use initials as shorthand for things. I remember the Blue Bunny Place (B.B.P) from "Of All The Luck". Was she hip in 2002? Is she still hip now? I'm not qualified to say.

We also get an introduction to Jackie through the official prequel web comic, "How It All Started: Episode 3". We see Jackie making her own skirt out of strips of fabric. I assume it is for cheer-leading.

Narration: Meanwhile, on Earth, three kids who don't know each other are about to have the adventure of their lives.

Jackie: I gotta organize this stuff

Narration: meet Jackie, who has her own sense of style...

Narration: And her own way of doing things!

Here's Jackie's Official Cyberchase Trading Card.

When they picked her favorite line as "Make room! I gotta pace!", they probably picked her most iconic line. She loves video games, piano, and foreign languages, which is great. We do get to see her play an unnamed videogame during Season 1 Episode 25 "A Battle of Equals". The hero "San Man" is trying to save the environment by stopping the villains that are trying to pollute it. One villain is called Johnny Grime. There are number riddles, and they are the same sort of riddles that the kids solve during the episode.

I don't think we ever see her playing piano or speaking a second language on the show. Quick question: What are those shoes that she wears? Inez has a pair or blue boots. Matt has a pair of red and white sneakers. Jackie's shoes are a little harder to place. They are purple, and they have considerable heels. Were these meant to be high-tops? I don't know that I've seen high-tops with heels in that size before.

The big thing that people remember Jackie for are her dramatic outbursts. And her most iconic one is probably from Season 3 Episode 4 "A Piece of the Action". You can tell that someone in the animation department had fun with this one.

Here's a transcript.

Jackie: Great! Now we'll never get into Hacker's control center. And if we can't get in there we can't stop Hacker. And if we can't stop Hacker, he'll erase Motherboard's memory with the magnetite! Cyberspace is doomed! Doomed I tell you! Doo-hoo-hoo-hoomed!

Matt: And the award for best dramatic outburst of today goes to Jackie!

Jackie: Matt!

What else can I say about Jackie. Well, she has an amazing tolerance for cold weather. Even in Arctic Cybersites, she still made do with the same short skirt.

Anyway, here's the prototype for Jackie. She had a completely different hairstyle and outfit. She was also called Julie. Again, I consider her current design an upgrade from the prototype.

And here's the Who's Who document on her.

We get more discussion on Jackie being a gymnast and artist. She loves Instant Messaging. I guess that would have been AOL Instant Messenger (AIM) at the time.

#cartoon #cyberchase #2000s #nostalgia #pbs kids #2000s childhood #jackie #longpost

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