#I think tumblr killed the quality;-; oops

[princesskkfish]

BROS ON FIRE

@thegunnsara I think your Mikey is very cool and was super fun to draw

[positivelybeastly]

Hey there! The post you made about the core of a well written Hank McCoy inspired me to ask if you'd be willing to do a similar deep dive into Hanks various relationships over the years. Not in a shippy way in so much as a pros and cons of the relationships ( all relationships have them , even good ones) and how they reflect on and influence Hanks character over time.

Hello hello! I would indeed be willing to do a deep dive, and, at the same time, find out if Tumblr text posts have a word limit! I also realised maybe 20 characters in that you meant actual. Relationships, as in romantic, and I've done just. Basically. All of his relationships. Including platonic ones. Oops. Oh well, hope you enjoy!

These won't be quite as exhaustive as if you asked me about a particular relationship, since I always work best with plenty of image resources and I already know I'm going to hit my image limit early, but I hope I can give at least my general thoughts on how Hank has influenced and changed, and been and influenced by, the following characters.

Edna and Norton McCoy

X-Men Unlimited vol. 1 #10, 1996.

You have to start all the way back at the beginning, and Hank's relationship with his parents is crucial to understanding why he is the way he is. Hank is the by product of a radiation accident that nearly killed his father, which led to the odd nature of his mutation - namely, that it manifested at birth in the form of abnormally large hands and feet.

This was, in many ways, the best case scenario that Edna and Norton could have hoped for, that their child not miscarry, be stillborn, or be born with a disability that would massively impact his quality of living - this was a very real possibility for them. So Hank being the way he was, actually stronger, more agile, and more dextrous than a normal child, and not to mention a genius intellect even at a young age (not related to his mutation, but it certainly didn't hurt) created a bit of a miracle baby effect.

They were unremittingly supportive and loving - they supported his choice in academics, they supported his football career, they supported his choice of girlfriends, they pushed him to be the best that he could be but never put undue pressure on him. He grew up feeling like he could do anything he wanted to, if he simply chose to.

The worst I can say about this relationship is that you could view it as fostering his ego - perhaps if they had tamped down on his ambitions a bit, maybe he never would have turned himself blue and furry in a fit of 'I know better than everyone else,' but I think that's a lot to put on his parents, honestly. He made that decision, and he has no-one to blame but himself for making it. Blaming his parents for that is like blaming your parents for daring to make you believe you can grow up to be somebody - like, what's the alternative, making you believe that you'll never be anybody? Horrible way to parent.

There's a bump in Marvel Team-Up #124 (1982) where Edna freaks out about her child growing up to be a superhero and more physically obvious mutant, but it's resolved when Hank proves himself to be a man of caliber and altruism, putting himself in harm's way to save a child - proving himself to be the boy that Edna raised, and she returns the favour, putting her life at risk to save him from Professor Power.

He may not be the CPA or 'normal' genius she may have wanted, but he's still brilliant, and she realises that quickly. I also think it's notable that Norton, his father, doesn't go through a similar patch, which is attributable to the fact that he sees Hank's mutation as his 'fault', as you can see in the panels above - he can't exactly blame Hank for being who he is, he's explicitly responsible for it. It would be the height of ridiculous for him to come down on Hank for who he is, when who he is is a direct result of Norton's act of heroism.

In many ways, Hank can do no wrong in his parents' eyes - but in many ways, Hank never does do wrong by his parents. He makes their lives comfortable and improves on it in a lot of ways with his intellect, and he keeps them safe as best he can. They're a little disappointed they aren't grandparents when we last hear from them in 2018, in the X-Men Christmas Special, but they're still defensive of him and love him, even though he's changed for a third time.

Charles Xavier

X-Force vol. 6 #20, 2021.

You knew this one was coming. You'll note that this is one of the few times that I'm going to use something from Benjamin Percy's X-Force in this deep dive, mostly because it's one of the few times that Percy comes close to examining who Hank is and why he is the way that he is. It's one of the few times in X-Force that anyone asks, why is Hank doing what he's doing? Why is he committing these actions?

Because, in many ways, he's still chasing Charles Xavier's approval.

Charles does Hank maybe the biggest disservice of any of his original X-Men, save maybe Scott - while he plucks Scott out of an abusive home and then moulds him into a soldier for his dream, pretty much completely failing to give him any coping mechanisms for what that's going to do to Scott's relationships with other people and his ability to maintain a normal life, Charles plucks Hank out of a loving home, and cuts him off from it. He telepathically wipes Hank's parents' mind of his existence for a while, to 'protect' him, but really, he's isolating Hank, and installing himself as a father figure.

Whether he realises he's doing this or not is immaterial, because it's canon, as established in Marvel Presents #85-92 (1991) and reaffirmed in X-Men Origins: Beast (2008). And though Hank doesn't appreciate it, on some level hates Charles for it forever, he falls for it, because he is a fundamentally altruistic person who knows he has a responsibility to use his intellect and his mutation to make life better for other people - this is the canon reason he joins the X-Men, and it's important to remember that, because he has no need of training to foster his gifts like Jean or Bobby, and he has a home, unlike Scott. In many ways, he's actually most like Warren, but we'll get to that.

There are moments where Hank separates from Xavier, most notably in Uncanny X-Men #8 (1964) and Amazing Adventures #11 (1971), and it's significant that the latter split leads to, arguably, the best years of his life, where he's freest to be who he wants to be and enjoy his life. He joins the Avengers and the Defenders, he becomes a sex symbol, he feels comfortable in his own skin, he explicitly feels no pressure to use his intellectual gifts, and instead is, arguably, most himself.

It's especially interesting when you consider that even with all that in mind, he still matures and grows up and realises, independently of Xavier, that he still has a responsibility to help - but rather than being inorganically forced to take on that role by a man he doesn't know, he realises it in New Defenders #142 (1985) when a mutant activist calls him out on his immaturity and his lack of forward momentum.

Hank self-reflects, and self-actualises, and forms a grassroots mutant political activist group called M.O.N.S.T.E.R (Mutants Only Need Sensitivity, Tolerance, and Equal Rights), which is something that Charles would NEVER do. Its emphasis on elevating mutants everywhere, rather than focusing on providing examples of mutant heroism like the X-Men, is unique, and I really do wish we'd gotten to see more of a grass roots approach to mutant politics. But.

Then, Hank gets pulled into X-Factor, and all of that goes away. Then, he gets pulled into the X-Men, and his life becomes smaller. And smaller, and smaller, and smaller. And his life becomes worse, and worse, and worse. Eventually, he hits the point where Charles is handing him an Infinity Stone, and consigning him to joining the Illuminati in his stead, and Hank doesn't want to be there, but he feels obligated to, because this was Charles' last wish, his literal will and testament, and he can't say no to that. But he should've. Because it tortures him, and it all ends up being for nothing anyway. Thanks, Chuck.

That being said, I think one of the most telling depictions of Hank and the Professor's relationship actually comes from Astonishing X-Men vol. 3 #12, where Scott is dressing down the Professor for enslaving Danger. Something I really appreciate about that scene is that it highlights how different Hank and Scott are in their relationship with Xavier.

Perhaps because Scott grew up with an abusive parental figure in Jack Winters and Hank grew up with very loving parents, Scott was able to recognise Charles' toxic behaviour and break away from Xavier - it might also have had something to do with the fact that at least one of Charles' biggest fuck ups had to do with Scott's brother Gabriel? Hard to say. But Hank, who Charles very carefully isolated from his parents by mindwiping them for years of Hank's whole existence, never really managed to break free of him, and it shows here really acutely.

Hell, it arguably never went away, even into the Krakoan era - a more interesting version of X-Force would have really dived into the kind of fucked up dynamic they have, where Chuck keeps covering for Beast's moral transgressions for seemingly no reason, because in some respects, he's responsible for them. He gave him the power, he gave him no oversight, but even more pressingly, he wasn't there for him emotionally. He pulled him into this life and didn't prepare him for the toll it would take, how much it would ruin Beast by the time he gets to Krakoa. Beast needed someone to help him there, and no-one did, which is part of why he went on the skids, I think.

But anyway, Whedon does a lot of moments where Hank is present for scenes but doesn't speak, which is important for a character who's well known for not shutting the fuck up. This, the initial cure conversation, the whole conversation about Piotr - Hank clams up. He doesn't feel like he can talk about it. He's off in his own head, his thoughts are his own, he doesn't feel the need to share them.

And here, it's especially important, because this is a big moral violation that Charles has committed in their name. I know it may be hard to remember, but back in the day, Hank had a moral opinion that was worth something, so the fact that he doesn't say anything here speaks volumes about just how much he feels capable of calling out the Professor, i.e. not at all. He craves Xavier's validation, his approval, he feels a kinship with Chuck. So he doesn't criticise him like he should.

It's especially interesting given that this would continue through the Utopia era. Every time Scott distanced himself from Xavier, Hank was there to comfort Charles, and I feel like that's just something he feels like he has to do. He feels like the devoted brother to Scott's more radical, more willing to criticise brother, and if Bendis had any interest in Beast as a character, he would've played on that in All-New X-Men - the fact that Scott killed their toxic father figure, and Beast feels both free of an influence he didn't know was choking him, but outraged that Scott would break their 'family' like that.

I find Beast compelling because of his flaws, and this is an interesting moment when you take all of that into account. I don't even know if that was the intention of this scene, or if Whedon just wanted to give Scott the speech, but it's interesting, nonetheless, and it really shines a light on how Hank and Charles see each other. I'm very interested to see Hank's take on where Charles has ended up in From the Ashes, because it has the potential to really change that dynamic.

Scott Summers

Astonishing X-Men vol. 3 #34, 2010.

Hank McCoy is Scott Summers' best friend.

I said it because it's true, and it's true reading all the way back to the Silver Age, honestly. Even as Bobby's screaming his head off about Scott being a stuck up asshole, Hank's quietly reminding Bobby that Scott can't be anyone other than who he is, "he can't help his psychological make-up," and I think that gets at a really important part of their relationship. Just as Scott's mind is attractive to telepaths because it's so neatly ordered and makes perfect sense to them, Scott's personality is appealing to Hank because he makes sense to him. Scott is orderly, anxious, dedicated, intelligent, hides his true feelings, and wants to belong, even as he stands apart. Hank is most, if not all, of these things, and so, they get each other. Bobby fucks around, Warren schmoozes and gets cocky, Jean is a GIRL AND THEREFORE SCARY, but Hank and Scott just get each other.

Which makes it all the more tragic when they fall apart, because Hank sees it all and it makes sense to him, even as it breaks his heart. What a lot of people misunderstand about Hank's arc during Utopia is that they read his moral grandstanding as self-righteousness or hypocrisy or a big ol' stick he wants to use to hit people with, and it's honestly not that. I really don't think it is.

I think he sees Scott sacrificing the parts of himself that make him a good man so that he can make a better general, and it terrifies him. He sees him become callous, manipulative, cold-blooded, willing to risk everything on a course of action because he believes he's right. Hank thinks he's fighting for the soul of the X-Men, for his own soul, for Scott's soul, even as everyone else is fighting for mutantkind.

Hank went through his own journey in Endangered Species, and he knows that there's nothing he can do, so why fight it? Why not just stop, and live out his days being the best man he can be, a member of the first and last generation of mutants, and let it go? Because no-one saw what he saw.

No-one saw the end of mutantkind inscribed on the vellum of reality like he did, saw what he would become if he did what Scott did and did anything and everything to stop the death of the mutant race - no-one else knows how close he came to jumping into the abyss and becoming Dark Beast. And no-one, honestly, cares. Hank doesn't tell anyone, because he never does, but it absolutely informs his views going forward. It can't not.

But no-one is interested enough in Hank McCoy's feelings to really ask why he's so insistent, or what happened when he was gone. He's a private individual, and he never told anyone. He felt profoundly ashamed of what he did while he was gone, which didn't exactly help. So his moral insistence just comes across as hatred, and it's not. He loves Scott Summers like a brother. That's why he fought so hard to keep him the way he was, not the way he became.

I also find it interesting that, in some ways, Hank is responsible for Scott becoming a happier, more well-adjusted individual, if in the most fucked up and irresponsible and manipulative way possible. Even in the midst of their relationship being at its lowest point, Hank was inadvertently responsible for time displaced Scott joining the Champions and getting to spend time with his father, giving him precious memories of a life not lived for Xavier that he didn't have before, and it's arguable that that's part of what mellowed Scott, coming out of the Death of X/revolution era.

It's not a good thing that Hank did that, obviously, he did it because - well, because he was having a brain aneurysm called Brian Michael Bendis, but whatever, it wouldn't have happened without Hank's intervention. I don't know if it's fair to give Hank credit for this, because those are Scott's choices and Scott's relationships, but the sequence of events is such. Idk. I try to see the best in Hank's actions and make them make sense to how I see the character.

A better version of X-Force would have made Scott central to Hank's descent into darkness, because it's frankly too obvious a connection to make, but whatever, we missed that boat. I just know that, just like how Hank didn't want for Scott to hollow himself out like he did, Scott wouldn't have wanted Hank to hollow himself out like he did, either, and I'm glad to see that reflected in MacKay's X-Men #1. I hope that friendship is rebuilt, because it deserves to be.

Jean Grey

New X-Men #124, 2002.

Hank McCoy is Jean Grey's brother.

Okay, so maybe not biologically, but they are basically brother and sister. It's why the stabs at making a relationship between them have never really worked for me, and I just enjoy the friendship moments between them too much to think of them together romantically. They're both intensely empathetic, deep feeling, loving characters, and in some ways, despite Jean being a literal telepath, Hank actually gets people better than Jean does sometimes (see X-Men Annual '95) because where she can be blinded by anger and passion and justice, Hank sees people for who they are and what they want very easily.

Almost any time that Hank is feeling blue (heehee) in 90s X-Men or New X-Men, it's Jean that pulls him out of it, because she's spent the most time learning what his habits are, when he's not really feeling as all right as he promises, and I honestly don't think it's a massive coincidence that the period that adult Jean spends dead (2005-2017) is a period that Hank spends alternately depressed, irrational, or alone. Maybe that's a form of dependency? Possibly. I just think they're best friends and that they make each other better when they're around one another.

Hank believes in Jean. He walks through the snow, thinking the rest of the X-Men are dead, believing that if he can at least get Jean out, then maybe he hasn't failed. He gets yanked onto the Shi'ar flagship, hears about what Dark Phoenix did, and instantly tries to throw the book at Empress Lilandra because he believes in Jean, and he believes in justice and law and due process. He watches her manifest the Phoenix and piece Emma together with her telekinesis, yanking her consciousness into her body once more, and even though he's afraid, he sticks with her. He trusts her with his mind, giving her his anatomy knowledge so she can work informed, even as the flames of her Phoenix form lick at his arm and burn him.

Hank believes in Jean Grey.

Bobby Drake

X-Men: First Class #4, 2007.

Bobby Drake is Hank McCoy's first best friend.

There were definitely great friends beforehand (Jennifer Nyles comes to mind), but in terms of making Hank feel normal, in terms of becoming friends to have fun and just hang out and because you simply like each other's vibes and feel comfortable each other? Yeah, Bobby is absolutely Hank's first best friend.

It's probably best exemplified in New Defenders, especially #122, where Bobby just. Needs Hank. He needs his best friend. Hank always has a knack for chasing away Bobby's blues, and you see it again and again throughout that run, where Hank is just who Bobby goes to first whenever he's feeling bad (as well as in 90s X-Men), because Hank always seems to know what to say.

I also don't think it's an exaggeration to say that there must've been a lot of good feeling going on for notable stick in the mud 60s Hank and retroactively gay Bobby to go out on double dates with Vera and Zelda. Hank bought an entire cabin so that they'd have a place to go to. Can you think of anyone else that Hank's done that for? I rest my case. (Is it all a little gay? Maybe. But it's not gay if the socks stay on.)

Where this relationship falls apart is when Bobby stops growing before Hank does, and what Hank needs outpaces what Bobby can provide, as seen in Uncanny X-Men #518. It's not necessarily Bobby's fault, he's just - not a very emotionally capable person, a lot of the time, his primary character flaw is an inability to grow up, and so Hank throws something heavy at him, and his best, most immediate impulse is to just say, well, deal with it how you've always dealt with it.

And that's just not good enough. And in many ways, I think Hank just stops trusting Bobby at that point, to the extreme where Bobby calls out for every other member of the original X-Men but him at the 2023 Hellfire Gala as he dies, and I wasn't surprised one bit. They stop appearing in comics together, Hank doesn't feature in his modern solo series' at all, and their interactions are fine, but nowhere near what they were.

Warren Worthington

Uncanny X-Men #297, 1992.

Warren is the original X-Man that Hank is most like.

Which, you might think is strange, given that Warren is a rich kid with wings and Hank is a farmboy quarterback with big feet, but it's true, by virtue of three facts - one, they're the two most obvious, physically mutated members of the O5.

Two, they came to heroism on their own. Warren's turn as the Avenging Angel, and Hank's fighting against the Conquistador in his origin, both predate their time as X-Men, and this is massively important in their development because it demonstrates that altruism and self-sacrifice are intrinsic in their characters. They believe in doing good things to help people, or stopping bad people from doing bad things, because it's the right thing to do. Whereas Scott and Jean and Bobby emerged from tragedy and ruin, Hank and Warren came from a place of stability and a desire to do good.

Three, they both undergo a terrifying physical metamorphosis that causes massive changes in their personalities, Warren becoming Archangel and Hank becoming a much more literal Beast. This point of commonality is a rock for them both, and as you can see, it helps them through. They realise that for all their struggles with the other aspects of their new selves, they're still, in the ways that count, the same people - they're still the friends they always were.

It's also very significant to me that Warren is the X-Man that Hank first 'comes out' to as the Beast, in Amazing Adventures #15 (1971), and I don't think it's a real coincidence that even as Charles tries to assert that Hank's protest that he's his own man, not an X-Man, and Jean shies away in shock from the vehemence with which Hank rejects their telepathic call, Warren calls bullshit and just goes.

He asserts himself. He's independent, and he breaks from the X-Men, much like Hank and Bobby did, Hank going to the Avengers and Bobby and Warren to the Champions, then all three of them to the Defenders - even as Scott and Jean stay with the X-Men, a decision that will lead to a whole line of catastrophe that ends with Jean dead, and Scott resigned to a life left unfulfilled because his one true love is dead.

Meanwhile, Hank, Bobby and Warren are clustered in a borrowed quinjet in their best togs, going to a wedding. Warren asks why he and Bobby are going along, given they hardly know the couple. Hank replies Warren that he's family, and he wants them there, and that's that, and there's a quiet, warm little smile on his face, because he is. They are.

I also find it very interesting that Hank and Warren undergo a very similar trajectory, tracking from Utopia to the Dark Angel Saga for Warren, and All-New X-Men to Krakoa for Hank - they cloister themselves off from others, they lose sight of who they originally were, they roll around in the blood of innocents, and in the end, they both end up dying and losing their memories, born anew.

Like I said. Warren is the original X-Man that Hank is most like.

Jennifer Nyles

X-Men Unlimited vol. 2 #10, 2005.

Jen is an underrated figure in Hank's history, and that's mostly because she has very limited appearances, none of which quite make sense with one another. Her first appearance in Marvel Presents #85-92 posits that she was, in many ways, Hank's first love, the person he missed most of all those who were made to forget him, and that the absence of him in her mind compelled her to study the mind so that she might try and unlock what she knew was missing. In the end, he stays away from her, because she nearly dies and he feels he endangers her. He probably does.

Then, we have a retroactive appearance in Origins: Beast, and the above story in Unlimited. Origins: Beast doubles down on her importance, stating that she's the person who encourages Hank to come out of his shell even before he's an X-Man, to use his gifts and be the brilliant person she knows he is, and while Unlimited agrees with that importance, she knows who Hank is at a time when she shouldn't. How to square it away? Ehh. I kinda don't. I like the three stories and how they impact and change and demonstrate Hank's qualities too much to try and change them. Instead, I just enjoy them.

In another life, Hank and Jen absolutely got married and they had a brilliant history together. She's almost as smart as he is, just as fiery (she punches out a bully antagonising Hank), and she has a strong moral, empathetic core. Hank, honestly, has a type. But even more than a romantic figure, I like her as an inspirational figure for Hank, someone that pushes him in the right direction and leads him to the right answers without giving them to him. She accepts him at a time when he needed it most, and helps him rebuild his life.

Tony Stark

Amazing Adventures #14, 1972.

For a pair of geniuses that snark at each other almost non-stop whenever they're around, and who feel almost constantly at loggerheads in classic Avengers, Tony is very important to Hank's development, sometimes by virtue of his faults.

First off, he's the superhero who turns up to investigate Hank's transformation at Brand, and his apparent death there at Hank's hands (a Mastermind illusion) and his mercy and understanding of the torment that Hank is undergoing are massively formative in Hank coming to terms with his new bestial form. He teaches Hank's two lessons - one, that he needs to control himself in a way he didn't need to before, and two, that he can still rely on people to see the human in him if he acts it.

Secondly - it's his inadvertent dismissal of Hank during the Avengers' examination of Wonder Man that sparks off Hank getting annoyed about his genius being ignored, pushes him out of the Mansion in a snit . . . and that's when he discovers that he's not just adjusting to being a beast anymore. No, he's fucking hot now. Even when he's being a dick (without really meaning to), Tony helps Hank grow, helping him realise that he doesn't need to be the high performing intellectual he was on the X-Men, the Avengers have that covered, but also, that he can afford to be someone else as well.

They continue to be friends for years and years, with their friendship built up over the course of plenty of classic Avengers issues, leading to a complete bypassing of a big ol' hero vs. hero fight in X-Factor Annual #1 (1986) because Hank's just like, oh hey, Iron Man, it's me, and Tony's just like, oh hey Beast, what the fuck's all this about? And it just. Fixes the problem.

I also don't think that it's a coincidence that Hank and Tony are the two most visibly affected when the Illuminati mindwipe Steve during the Incursions arc, with Hank unable to even really look at Steve when it happens, and Hank is constantly pulling on that morality chain even as they tie each other into knots, trying to justify the destruction of worlds. For as much as they give each other shit, Hank and Tony can rely on each other to give it to 'em straight, and that's important when their heads can get as big as these guys.

Wanda Maximoff

Uncanny Avengers vol. 3 #30, 2017.

Hank should hate Wanda more than he does.

The event that Wanda caused, the Decimation, was, in a lot of people's opinions, the beginning of the end for Henry McCoy. It stripped him of his morality and his pretensions and his ability to do anything. It was the height of cruelty, and Wanda did it without arguably meaning to. Not casually, but in a moment of instability. Leaving a gaping wound in evolution that Hank tried to fix.

He threw away a lot, trying to fix it. He wrecked a lot of relationships, came away feeling dirty, consorted with demons. Became acutely aware of every one of his limitations. And yet. He never really blamed her. Because how could he?

After all, he knew Wanda before the mess. When she was a brilliant friend and teammate on the Avengers. When she was shining, glimmering proof that people could change and become better, if only they tried and were given the chance. When she was at her best. And he never stopped believing she could be that again. It certainly didn't help that they had a certain wonder man in common, but honestly, they're just great friends.

Hank supported her in Children's Crusade, even in the face of the X-Men going kill crazy, and he never held a grudge. Even when he finds her, at the end of his rope, in Endangered Species, when he's at his most fraught and defeated, he just. Wants to fix things. It would be so easy to be hateful and resentful, but he just doesn't have it in him. After all, he knows what it's like to ruin your life in an instant because of a bad decision, and to want to claw it back however you can.

Carol Danvers

Ms. Marvel vol. 2 #18, 2007.

Honestly, for someone who you often see getting blasted on the X-Men Reddit for the Superhuman Registration Act/where were you when our babies were burning panels, Carol has a lot of really strong relationships within the X-Men, but I think her bond with Hank is especially strong - which is saying something, considering their first meeting was a fight! But, honestly, they just like and respect each other. They don't tolerate injustice, they believe in being heroes for everyone, not just the few, and they support each other.

Even in the midst of Civil War II, arguably the single worst that Carol has ever been written (not counting Avengers #200, take your pick of a character assassination), there's a moment where Tony is begging Carol to rethink her Minority Report bullshit, and she says, fine, I'll consider your evidence - but only if Hank checks it. And he says he has, and it's not wrong. And she knows that that means something.

The best friends will tell you when you're wrong. And you'll listen to them.

Heather Douglas

The New Defenders #139, 1984.

Hank and Heather have an almost constantly combative relationship from the instant Moondragon joins the Defenders, with Hank never afraid to let her know that he doesn't like her and that he doesn't want her on 'his' team. In his estimation she's high, and mighty, and conceited, and possessed of more power than wisdom.

And. Guess what?

Hank's fucking wrong. Heather is trying. Yes, she backslides, she has her moments of true ego and duplicity, but it takes Hank far too long to come to realise that she's trying as hard as she is - and frankly, she's right to smack him down and humiliate him from time to time, because he can be conceited. He acts as though the Defenders are his team, and he harbours pretensions of leadership that no-one takes seriously, because Hank is not a leader, you don't even have to dislike him to know that - and it takes him a while to realise that.

Their combative relationship keeps the other in check. They grow as a result of being around one another, even if they never quite settled things between them. Hank's maturation into a grown adult, into a man able to be more than just a superhero, is in no small part thanks to Moondragon's barbs and pushes and slaps at his ego, and he should be grateful that he got the chance to make good on that chance to mature, because Heather didn't, in the end.

Alison Blaire

Marvel Heartbreakers #1, 2010.

I'm gonna be real, the Beauty and the Beast miniseries by Ann Nocenti is not great. It has moments of fun, some pathos, but for the most part, it's incredibly soapy, incredibly hackneyed, goes nowhere, has a lot of weird anti-set up, and Hank is strangely incredibly violent and cruel in it at times. For someone claiming Hank was his usual charming self, Nocenti sure wrote him as a borderline psycho.

But. The Heartbreakers epilogue for that relationship redeems it, honestly, and it gains added poignancy when a future version of Alison is killed in Battle of the Atom, in one of the few instances of that series actually managing a moment of pathos. There's no magic trick to why Hank and Alison work, they just sort of find each other hot and fun and they're there for each other in a weird, fucked up time in Alison's life, so maybe it was inevitable that it faded to nothing.

I just like to think there's always a lingering softness, a lingering what if, for the both of them. A potential of something, if not an actual something.

Vera Cantor

The New Defenders #149, 1985.

Oh, Vera . . . you deserved better.

Gonna be brutally honest, Hank treated Vera kinda like shit. I don't think he meant to, it was never a relationship he was invested in, and he said as much, he was interested in the stability it represented, but I'm genuinely sorry for Vera that she got caught up in the crossfire of it. She was dismissed and treated like a pick-up, drop-off girlfriend when she was looking for a good man - and Hank is a good man, but at this point? Not what she was looking for. Not what she needed.

I'm glad we see her again in X-Factor and she's doing well for herself. I'm fairly convinced that she's a lesbian because Hank may have ruined men for her (in the not good way), but hey, a pro-mutant activist? That's pretty worthy - and considering how Hank treated her, pretty big minded. I like to think this taught Hank to be more considerate of people's feelings and grow out of his womaniser stage.

Julio Richter

X-Factor vol. 1 #18, 1987.

For a character often defined by his teaching abilities, Hank actually wasn't a particularly great teacher or carer for children when he first started - I always think there's a good deal of significance in the fact that X-Factor #1 has him searching out a position in academia, being rejected out of prejudice, but then finding his way to a teaching position through way of X-Factor, though I doubt that was planned.

Regardless of whether or not it was planned, I do think his relationship with Julio Richter, or Rictor, is massively important to Hank's development, because everything that Hank gets wrong with Tabitha Smith, he gets right with Julio. He encourages him, gives him his clothes, never talks down to him, nurtures his potential, pushes him to learn and think for himself - and it's rewarded.

Julio imprints on Hank strongly, and you can see that he favours Hank amongst all the other X-Factor members for a reason. This relationship largely went away in future, sadly, but I always like to think that it remains in some fashion, even if only in small ways.

Trish Tilby

X-Factor vol. 1 #36, 1988.

Yeah, you knew this was coming.

Honestly . . . I can see what Hank saw in her as a human being. She's a woman of fierce convictions. She believes in truth, and honesty, and justice. She is pro-mutant, after a fashion. And I have to give her credit, she does have her moments of heroism, like in this issue, when she risks her life to help Hank save a bridge of people as Inferno kicks into high gear. There are moments of good between them.

But fuck me she's an awful human being.

Leaking the fact that the Legacy Virus has jumped to humans directly leads to a mutant hate crime that ends in a death. She barges in to a sick, dying man's hospital room in the search of a scoop. And I'm not even gonna get into what happened when Hank turned feline.

She's just a trainwreck of breaches of journalistic ethics, and I hate her to bits. If she taught Hank anything, it was that the people you admire and love can disappoint you, and it says a lot that it's a one-two punch of her, and Cassandra fucking Nova that shatters Hank's self-esteem into a million pieces. What rarified company. The very fact that she tries to get back together with Hank after this, like, what even the fuck, man.

Jubilation Lee

Uncanny X-Men #308, 1993.

These two make me smile.

I think Jubilee awakens something very simple and immature in Hank, but something healthy at the same time - she encourages him, and everyone else at the Mansion, up to and including Professor X, to have fun. At a time when they were losing people left and right, it would have been easy to lose heart, but Jubilee kept Hank and the rest of the team bolstered, kept them focused. That's no small thing, honestly. Maybe she doesn't have quite as strong a relationship with Hank as she does Logan - that's a hard bond to match - but it's hard not to look at these two and see a true blue friendship.

I also adore that it came back in full force in X-Men vol. 4 (2013), where Hank often acted as mission and home support for the all-female team of X-Men that featured in that book. Taking care of baby Shogo, helping Omega Sentinel with her physical rehab - Hank was an invaluable asset in that run, and his scenes with Jubilee were always a treat.

Dark Beast

X-Men: Endangered Species, 2007.

"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."

Dark Beast is such a well constructed character because he is not just Henry McCoy if Henry McCoy were evil. Dark Beast is, what if Henry McCoy were raised in an evil world that believes in evil things and the only thing to do is be evil, lest it kill you? There's such a curious drive to betterment, to becoming stronger, smarter, more, to him, that speaks to the same in Hank, but it's all just so twisted up. It's driven by fear where it's driven by hope in Hank.

Because he is afraid. And he is human, much as he might hate the label.

He's a warning. He's a check and balance. He's a cruel joke. He's a monster. He's the other side of Hank's fears. Hank fears devolution, becoming more of an animal, giving in to the Beast, but Dark Beast represents evolution, becoming less animal and more - other. Something that considers itself above human, animal, mutant. Intelligence without conscience, drive without wisdom.

He's not what all Hank McCoys inevitably become. That's stupid, and basic, and anyone who believes that is stupid and basic. That's genetic essentialism, and it's shit media literacy. It's also the basis for X-Force (2019) and I reject that hypothesis entirely.

Henry's much more interesting than evil Hank - not just because he's funnier, and better at his job, and a more efficient villain, but because try as he might, there's still something essentially human inside of him. Something stopped him from killing Hank's - his - parents.

An essential, viral, inescapable fact.

There's something good in him, just as there's something bad in Hank. And it will bedevil them both forever, because they can't get rid of it.

Cecilia Reyes

Astonishing X-Men vol. 3, 2012.

Honestly, maybe the most grown up and equal relationship that Hank ever had, and I don't really feel like he even really had the chance to have it. Cecilia is everything Trish wishes she could be, and much more besides. Uncompromising in her morals, fiercely dedicated to healing, defensive of her boundaries, strong, independent, intelligent, funny - and kind.

She held a torch for him, for a long time. There's a lot of pictures of him in her apartment, both from the 90s and his feline form. She felt for him in a way maybe he didn't realise. Maybe he's the one who got away. Maybe she is. Either way, these two just. Work. There's a world out there where they became something more, and that's a happier world for Hank, honestly. But, hey ho.

Emma Frost

New X-Men #123, 2002.

Sometimes friendships don't make sense. Other times they do.

The friendship between Hank and Emma always made sense to me. The wit, the banter, the emotional intelligence, the willingness to play to roles assigned to them by their image - they were practically destined to be friends. And yet, often forgotten. Every now and then, it crops up, and I cherish it, but for the most part, they're just irrepressibly bitchy all the way through Morrison's run, and that'll always be special to me.

I always try and see good where I can, and I wanted to post an exchange from Secret Empire Omega where Hank tries to bolster Emma in the wake of New Tian's fall, because I like the moment for them, but in the end, it's just too poor of an event and a context for me to share it. All my props to Nadia Shammas in the X-Force Annual, the one issue of X-Force I thought actually had a decent handle on a villainous Beast - by sheer virtue of actually remembering that people would care. Emma would care.

Abigail Brand

Siege vol. 2 #2, 2015.

Abigail Brand did not make Hank McCoy into a war criminal.

To say so is to betray a basic lack of understanding of this entire relationship, but then, what else is new? A lot of people seemingly don't get who Hank is and why he works. Out of universe, but also in, oddly enough.

Kate Pryde and Kurt Wagner both speculate about what made Hank into what he became in X-Force, and they think it's Abigail, because that's an easy explanation, but it's not the truth. Not remotely. It betrays that they didn't know Hank as well as they thought they did, and Hank died not being known by a lot of people.

Which . . . sucks. But it is what it is.

Abigail knew him. She knew him as a kind man. Kinder than her. Kinder than anyone. She wanted that kindness. Craved it. Needed it. Managed to jam it into her work life, by hook and by crook. But I don't think Hank minded. At that point in his life, he needed what she offered, and though I don't think either of them ever thought they'd catch real feelings, they both absolutely did.

He kept her honest, she gave him options. He gave her moral dimension, she gave him self-esteem. They complemented each other perfectly, and I'm sorry that they never got a fair chance, really.

Sure, it was all essentially motivated by a desire to get good dick, but sometimes, that's all it needs to be.

Kurt Wagner

Uncanny X-Men: The Heroic Age, 2010.

Ahhh, Kurt . . . honestly, I don't think Hank and Kurt were ever shown to be quite as close on panel as you'd think they would be, in part because there's a One Blue Limit on X-Men teams for a while (seriously, check the X-Men team line-ups, and you'll realise that Hank and Kurt are pretty much never on the same team until 2015, with Amazing X-Men, a team Hank promptly leaves at issue #5).

But I like to think they're good friends, even if Kurt does fall for Hank's facade of being okay, just like a lot of other people. I like to think that Kurt represents a kind of ideal to Hank - he's what Hank, in many ways, wishes he could be. A better man. A happier man. A more hopeful man. A man who believes in a higher power, still. I certainly don't think it's a coincidence that it cuts Hank deep, when Kurt dies at Bastion's hands.

Steve Rogers

Secret Avengers vol. 1 #21, 2012.

Hank and Steve have an odd relationship. In a way, he does a lot for Hank, bolstering him during his time in the Avengers, treating him as a valued teammate - even if, as is typical of 70s writing styles, they can both come across as cunts to one another occasionally - and one of my favourite moments for Hank is in Avengers Annual #11, where Steve calls Hank out as a man who won't kill. Doesn't have it in him.

Which makes this moment, a sequel to what Steve pushes Hank to do in Secret Avengers #16, hurt so much. Steve had to know what it would cost Hank, to shortcut his way into an Oppenheimer arc, but he hoped the math would comfort Hank. I don't think it did.

I don't know if it was intentional, but it haunts me that both Scott and Steve use Hank (Scott during Secret Invasion, and Steve in SA #16) to commit acts of mass murder, and try to console him with the numbers of people saved through atrocity. Hank tried to escape all of that, fleeing from Utopia, and maybe he was naive to think a band of Secret Avengers would be a place to hide from doing bad things, but it doesn't change the essential fact. Scott and Steve used Hank to achieve their goals, and he had to just deal with it.

"Are you seriously asking a mutant what he'll do to avoid extinction?" Mindwiping Steve in New Avengers vol. 3 hurt, I'm sure, but it's a fine old thing, trying to morally grandstand to a man you explicitly used to make a nuclear bomb. A lot of mixed up history in that room.

Broo

Wolverine & the X-Men vol. 1 #7, 2012.

If only Hank's adopted sons were given as much attention and care as Wolverine's adopted daughters. Ah well. There was a lot of work being done over this run, to make it clear that Hank, Abigail and Broo were forming a family unit, including Abigail being there as Broo's parental figure during his graduation and a possible future showing Broo as head of S.W.O.R.D, but all of it eventually came to naught, which saddens me. Broo deserved better. So did Hank.

Time Displaced Beast

X-Men: Blue #35, 2018.

There was a kernel of an idea here.

It was inevitable that Hank was going to end up hating himself. He's a character largely defined by self-hatred, in most of his forms. The thread that never got pulled was the fact that, honestly?

Older Hank should hate younger Hank just as much.

Younger Hank is much closer to the man who turns them blue, who's ego tripping at Brand, than older Hank is. That's what leads him down this entire path, of magic and demon summoning and servitude, that's broken only by the intervention of other X-Men.

But, whatever. The era of lost potential, tbh.

. . . . . . . .

Oh, hey. You're still here?

Yeah, I guess there is someone missing, huh?

Simon Williams

Uncanny Avengers vol. 3 #28, 2017.

Avengers Annual #6, 1976.

X-Force vol. 6 #49, 2024.

Avengers vol. 3 #14, 1999.

Wonder Man vol. 2 #5, 1991.

Avengers Annual vol. 2 #1, 2012.

They complete one another.

They simply are their best selves around one another.

Even when sick, and twisted, and cruel, and beyond redemption, Hank couldn't bear for the possibility of harm to an invulnerable, immortal, ionic man. He would rather dash all of his plans, make it all for nothing, kill himself, than risk hurting Simon.

At the start of this whole ass breakdown, you said, all relationships have pros and cons. And I think that's true. Mostly. But when Hank and Simon are together, nothing can tear them apart, nothing can bring them down, nothing can stop them, nothing can keep them from doing the right thing.

I can't think of a negative to them being together.

They love each other.

Thanks for bearing with me. :)

[abiiors]

tv show recs:

something 2015ish (means 22 episodes, 40ish min log) -> limitless tv show (continuation of the movie), kind of white, mc is manic pixie dreamboy but he wears the coolest sweaters, fun times. i would take that drug.

if you are good with horror and have not watched mike flanagan's stuff id rec it. if you are not good w horror i would still rec haunting of hill house because it is heartwrenchingly beautiful. but ya it has scary points.

i watched mrs davis recently and the tv show is bonkers, but episode 9 pays off bcs the reveal is great. perfect if you are like a person who has worked with code and programming. also there is jesus there and he lowkey hot.

fisk on netflix (australian and funny af)

succession (my top 3 ever) if you havent seen it - billionaires are horrible people but the dialogue slaps. no but fr this show is so high in quality

love death robots

mindhunter (fincher is cool, interesting topic, leaves you wanting more imo)... also about serial killing and all so if u dont like that oops

DIRK GENTLY HOLLISTIC DETECTIVE AGENCY (forget everything else, give this a shot, but like just... it's a tumblr insane show)

anne with an e - perfect for fall vibes! also anne would have had a tumblr

if you like animated stuff i enjoyed final space so much, it's a cute lil animated series

also archer, which is less cute and more satirical

the boys and gen v on prime are fun (if violent and gory)

the white lotus - again horrible rich people, some karma

or go with an old classic: buffy the vampire slayer (though that has a lot of seasons)

omg omg so many suggestions, thank you!!! i obviously must answer them point by point haha

i did not know there was a limitless tv show haha. would also 100% take that pill PLSSSS i would be unstoppable

i asked for tv shows because i just spend weeks binging all the mike flannagan shows haha. i really likes hill house but i don't think anything is going to top midnight mass for me (which was my first flannagan that i watched last year!)

oh i'd never heard of mrs davis but it sounds cool!

same with fisk

i have seen literally everyone and their mother talk about succession and how good it is but i'm just a bit scared that it would end up being overhyped haha. regardless, it's on my list so thanks for reminding me of that

love death robots <333 i love that show!!

same for mindhunter!!! i will not forgive david fincher for abandoning it like how dare he (me when i abandon fics)

oh oh, a while ago i worked on a book based on dirk gently an the author hyped it so much that i ended up watching it haha

anne with an e <33

not super into animated stuff unfortunately!!

and i have never heard of the rest of them except the white lotus

LOVEDDDD white lotus, can't wait for s3. justice for jennifer coolidge

[johnfuckingwick]

bitch BYE

[15560931-moved]

How about Haibara in lolita fashion? Specifically sweet lolita because it would be hilarious?

Oh no, you’ve found my weakness for frilly dresses

[suntrastar]

abstract: chapter 3

 chapter 2!! you can also read it on ao3 :)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader

Summary: Wait- Bucky Barnes attends your art class? And you didn’t even recognize him?

Word Count: 9520. i am deranged. someone euthanize me i beg you.

Author’s note: jesus fucking christ. this is so long for no reason. probably kind of poorly written. that is okay though. i really really appreciate the support you guys have given me for the last 2 chapters!! i was a bit iffy about joining tumblr but i’m glad to be here now :) please comment and reblog!! i appreciate it so much!!! ily all ok now enjoy this mess!!!

“You want to paint me?”

Rina looks at you, shocked, mouth agape, lone cherry tomato speared on her fork.

“Yeah,” you say, and smile with your straw still in between your teeth. “You in a field of flowers.”

“You want to paint me in a field of flowers?”

“Yes- that’s literally what I just said.”

The bustle of the restaurant is loud enough to drown out the rising volume of her voice. Thankfully. She’s being excessive, again- as if this is the first time she’s ever been the center of attention- but you’re fine with it today. You almost like it.

Today, her enthusiasm is almost contagious.

“I know,” Rina says “Duh. But, like, it’s just so crazy to me that you want to put me in your second solo show ever- I mean, why me?”

“Because,” you say, and almost leave it at that, just to mess with her. “Because you’re my best friend, and the whole thing is focused on people I know. And your hair would look so good with poppies, and-”

“I’m your best friend?”

“Obviously,” you say, even though to her, it might not be that obvious. “Who else?”

“That is so sweet,” she says, and leans back in her seat, dramatically clutching her hands over her heart. Rings sit on each of her fingers, gold and heavy stone. “You are too nice to me.”

She’s really milking it. But you’ll let it slide.

Rina gives you a self-satisfied smile, which you return without too much trouble. She’s so overwrought and showy with how she sits, limbs sprawled all over, like they’ve been blown into disarray by the wind. Her hair, still glossy red, is parted down the middle and made up in two French braids, tips just barely brushing her shoulders. The hair ties don’t match.

She has no best friend. She probably has, like, five other people just like you, who she calls on when she feels like it, whenever she wants company, when she feels like humoring someone. Or when she wants someone to listen to her talk.

It comes as part of the lifestyle- can you really blame her?

“I know,” you say, veering back on topic. “Bucky gave me the idea.”

You do it on purpose.

Her eyes go wide.

“Bucky?” She says, incredulously. Like she doesn’t believe you.

The feeling of being incompetent comes quick in a flash, and it takes too much to put it away.

You’re not incompetent- his number is in your phone, after all, isn’t it?

“The Winter Soldier, I mean,” you say, and the words feel all wrong in your mouth.

“No . Shut up. You are not on first-name basis with the fucking Winter Soldier.”

“Oops,” you say.

Her jaw drops.

You’re grinning too hard. She didn’t expect this from you- you didn’t expect this from you! You take a bite of your food, some garlicky chicken thing you can’t pronounce the name of, to delay your response. It gives you time to think of what to say next.

Rina waits, stunned into silence.

“We’re… talking, I think,” you say. “I asked him for his number.”

“And he gave it to you?”

“Yep.”

There’s a story there, that you won’t tell her.

You texted him a day after class, on Tuesday. Was that too soon? You didn’t care, your mind was too muddled with so many other things- icy blue eyes and different techniques for drawing wrinkles and this week’s shopping list and the best color that went with orange-red, and the laundry that you still hadn’t done.

You were too giddy to get smart with it- all you sent was a simple Hey.

All he sent back was a simple Hi.

Then, once you had read over his message too many times, you turned your phone off and pretended it never happened.

It’s too nerve-wracking. And pointless. You’re going to see him on Monday again, anyway! There’s plenty of time to text him- everything doesn’t have to be so immediate- you’ll get around to it before then, for sure.

You just have to stop thinking so much.

“I cannot believe you,” Rina gushes, and from her expression, you believe her. “You’re all grown up! I am so proud of you. That man is delicious, I cannot-”

“Do not describe him as delicious, oh my god.”

You burst out laughing as Rina raises one eyebrow, filled in dark. Her eye makeup always kills. “Am I wrong?”

“Well… no, but…”

***

Steve leaves, but Bucky stays back at the end of class to help you clean up. Acrylics again, and it’s the second-to-last class, so you had finally brought out the canvas.

Canvas means more fun, but more mess. More paint splatters on the tables, more brushes with clogged-up bristles.

Bucky doesn’t smile as he says bye to Steve, and it makes you feel a certain type of way , but you stick to business. Cleaning supplies are pulled out, paper towels are ripped from the dispenser. Bucky starts on the tables while you roll up your sleeves and start the sink, preparing to start on the brushes.

God- these brushes.

If these brushes were washed incorrectly, you would cry. They’re new, and high-quality, and the bristles are still soft and not yet frayed or discolored, and the handles are made of thick, clear plastic, and they come in different sizes and styles, and you can barely believe it, but they all even have rubber grips.

They’re really nice brushes.

“You didn’t text me back,” Bucky says.

You wish the sink was loud enough to swallow all sound, swallow you up within it.

Still, you look over your shoulder, giving him a pained smile while he scrubs at a spot of dried paint. He looks back at you, but you can’t tell what he’s thinking.

Of course you didn’t text back- thinking less is way harder than it seems.

“I wanted to,” you say, “but I got nervous. Sorry.”

You turn back to the sink. It’s a little easier to breathe without having to look at him.

“You got nervous,” he repeats, voice still so unreadable.

Is he mad? He always looks mad, always sounds mad- you can’t ever tell if there’s anything behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, and shrug, like it’s no big deal at all, like you chicken out of things all the time, like texting is always such a cause for concern. “I didn’t know what to say. What was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.”

Ugh.

The sink water slowly circles the drain. You don’t look past it, only keeping your eyes on the sink and the remaining brushes- it helps calm your heart, a little. Bucky is probably on the last few tables. All of the paintings have been neatly propped up on the drying racks.

Bucky painted his entire canvas yellow.

You are so dumb.

“Um, okay” you say, shutting off the sink. The really nice brushes are all neatly piled up on the counter on top of a folded paper towel, washed and drying. “What if I was like, ‘hey, Bucky, after this class ends and I’m not your art instructor anymore, would you want to meet up sometime?’”

You turn back around and lean against the sink. It’s an effort that deserves applause- you look so collected, while your heart is beating way too fast, and Bucky, its forever opposite, just stands behind a table, spray bottle in hand.

Your hands are sweaty.

He nods slowly, and it’s a victory in and of itself- the action nearly has you weak at the knees.

“Meet up,” he repeats, voice low, like a halfhearted growl. Disdainful, kind of. “Like a date.”

You wipe your hands on your apron. It’s a totally normal, totally relaxed movement. But then you’re wishing that you wore something cuter- was this sweatshirt really the only thing you had? Do you not own, like, a blouse, or something? Didn’t you just do your laundry?

Fuck, you’re being annoying.

“We don’t have to call it that,” you say. “We can just… hang out. Eat something. Go on a walk.”

You say it casually, but honestly, you like nice dates. Dates at art museums, dates at fusion restaurants, dates at movie theaters showing indie films in foreign languages. Anything eccentric, haphazard. Spontaneous.

But you also like seeing him smile, and you like to talk, and you like to be listened to- and he is giving you that.

This is a different type of everything. It’s all upside down, inside out, twisted over in itself. You have to approach it all differently, maybe it’s because he’s too quiet or too famous or too dangerous or whatever the hell, but none of it matters.

What matters is that you want it.

You’ll realign your compass.

“Okay,” he says. “I like walks.”

“Great,” you say, and go on without hesitating, because long nights have you tired and hesitation is for the weak, “I like you.”

Bucky Barnes, real, unfitting name James, clutching dirty paper towels and a spray bottle, smiles at you.

It’s wrong, but you could just bite him.

A sudden, unprompted thought hurls through your mind- you want to paint him.

***

The last art class.

It was once long-awaited, but now, you’re actually sad to see everyone go.

You buy a tray of cookies. It’s the least you can do- everyone has been so nice to you, so respectful and cooperative. Everyone has made things fun. You don’t know if you were doing anything right, but it sure as hell has been enjoyable.

Crumbs might get in the paint, but’s a small price to pay.

“Knock yourself out,” you announce.

The tray is set out on the middle table. You forgot the package of napkins back at your studio, so you gesture to the paper towel dispenser.

Then you long for the kids in your Wednesday and Thursday classes, because unlike these people, they wouldn’t be looking so dead at the prospect of free cookies.

You shake your head and return to your perch, tucking your feet behind the legs of the stool.

Eventually the conversations trickle out, slowly turning the room warm and lovely and bright. You listen in, a little, savor it, and hop back up. There’s nothing to do- might as well make some idle chitchat, one last time.

Shonna uses a small brush to add purple highlights to the feathers of a pigeon. It’s gorgeous- and you don’t even like pigeons- but you like her painting style and the jewel tones she’s adding amidst the grey, and the orange beak, and the washed-out yellow background she’s painting over.

“Wow,” you say, and she adds another purple highlight with a flick of her hand. “I cannot stop looking at this pigeon.”

“Thank you, honey,” she says, without looking up.

She’s too focused for you to stay for too long- you have to leave the pigeon for others. Marcie waves you down and gives you the latest update about her son, abandoning her half-painted rose while she launches into a bit of a tirade- her son wants to pierce his nose, isn’t that ridiculous?

“Hey, I wanted to pierce my nose when I was his age, too,” you say, and spout something about self-expression that makes her frown.

Ahmed chimes in. You have no idea what the blob he’s painting is supposed to be, but you like it. “I’ve been trying to tell her the same thing! These kids are modern now- these are just the things they do!”

“These are just the things we do,” you echo.

Marcie heaves a heavy sigh.

***

You head over to a few more tables, and it goes by too fast and too slow, but then you’re suddenly there in the back, with your star student, and your…

With Bucky.

“I really like how this is turning out,” Steve says proudly, as you approach them.

Then, he adds, almost childishly, “Don’t look until I’m done.”

He has a half-eaten sugar cookie sitting by his paint water.

“I won’t look” you promise, and all at once, you’re almost emotional- he is such a nice guy. He’s like the human embodiment of a golden retriever. “Don’t worry.”

Steve nods, pleased and nervous at the same time. You pointedly look away from the painting as you slide into a seat, across from Bucky and his yellow canvas.

Yellow and black canvas. He’s hunched over with a fat-bristled paintbrush in hand, adding black stripes, blobby and unevenly spaced, but still unbelievably straight.  

It is all so cute.

“Very bumblebee-esque,” you say, and his forehead creases. “I like it.”

Steve smiles.

Bucky adds another line. He didn’t take a cookie. He should’ve- the chocolate-chip is so good.

“Thanks,” he says.

And Steve just smiles wider, and you almost kick him under the table, and Bucky gives you an unsmiling look that turns you to jelly.

Hat aside, he is looking exceptionally pretty today. All hair and eyes and bone structure- it makes you want to do something, like reaching out and grabbing him by the collar of his jacket. Like running a hand over his jaw. Catching his stubble under your fingertips.

Parting his hair down the middle and French braiding it.

Taking a picture- it'll last longer.

“I'm going to miss seeing you guys around.”

Steve gives you a surprised look and shakes his head. He has one arm protectively curled around his canvas, even though you’re still not looking.

“Oh, I’m sure one of us will be seeing you around,” he says, and grins.

You glare at him.

Bucky laughs.

***

The goodbyes aren’t as bad as you thought they would be.

People leave with a simple goodbye and a brief thank you, shrugging on their coats and gingerly clinging to their still-damp artwork. Marcie makes you promise her that you won’t pierce your nose. One woman who would always come to the class with a huge coffee cup sets her painting aside to sweep you into a hug.

It’s very gratifying.

Steve and Bucky linger.

Shonna does, too, but for a completely different reason.

You want to give her Rina’s contact. She probably has some painting class available, if Shonna’s interested in that sort of thing, if she’s okay with being around so much personality.

And you also want to give her your contact- so she can keep on sending you pictures of those  birds.

“One sec,” you tell her, and reach for your purse, sitting on the counter.

Bucky is standing closeby, remarkably closeby, and you accidentally brush against him.

He goes rigid.

But you’re busy pulling out a pen and a scrap piece of paper, and then you’re using the counter as a hard surface to write against, shoulders angled away from him, and you’re talking all the while- you don’t have the spare second to be concerned.

“This is my email,” you say, adding a smiley face after the address. “Send me your art. And, like, talk to me. Send me your grocery lists, if you want- I don’t care. Here.”

Shonna takes it and gives you a smile. There’s a glimmer of something in it, a knowing.

“Thank you,” she says, and laughs a little, and you suddenly fiercely miss your mother. “I’ll keep the last bit in mind.”

She looks past you. Steve, standing a few feet away, holding the canvas he still hasn’t shown you, nods respectfully. And Bucky, standing near the counter, still near you, even though he’s looking at you like you’ve scalded him.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she says.

You almost ask, “to what?” But she’s already left- Shonna and her pigeons are gone.

Steve steps up fast to take her place.

You still have no time to think.

“So, this is the finished product,” Steve says with no preamble, and with a great flourish that makes you laugh in delight, he turns the canvas around.

Oh.

Wow.

You’re not dizzy.

But you will be, if you keep on looking at this- a tangle of vines on a wall, with blooming flowers in what should be the wrong colors, dappled in light from a window you can’t see, drawn from a strange perspective. The leaves are really big and the vines are really small, and then it’s flip-flopped, and he has a hot-pink underpainting that he didn’t fully cover, so there’s pink in the leaves, pink on the wall. Pink in the un-pink flowers.

“Fuck,” you say, and then go quiet.

Steve tenses.

Now you have two very strong men looking at you weird.

You should probably fix that.

“I don’t- I don’t know what to say,” you say, stumbling over your words, feeling cotton-mouthed. “There are no coherent thoughts going on in my head right now. I’m just- where did this even- how did you even come up with this?”

“I tried to do that thing you said,” Steve says, sounding uncertain. He shifts and the painting moves with him, sending pink flickering over your eyesight. “No empty space. Because it’s boring.”

What is this called, again? Artists supporting artists?

“It is boring,” you say in agreement, and your voice comes back to you, all at once. “And holy shit, you pulled it off so well. I’m obsessed with the pink underpainting- it’s everything. You literally invented pink. And can we talk about these vines? How long did it take you to draw them all tangled up like that? And the flowers- you even gave them little stems, ugh.  And all the colors! And this lighting- I’m sorry, I have too much to say.”

Like watching a flower bloom, Steve unfurls at your praise, blush deepening with each compliment. It’s so wonderfully endearing, and internally, you sigh in relief.

“Thank you,” he says, and bursts into the brightest smile you’ve ever seen. “Also, we have one more question.”

“We?” You ask, and Bucky clears his throat.

You turn to him.

Already, you have a whole slew of problems- you have to sketch out an emerging idea and place an order for new brushes, ones with rubber grips, and you have to cook dinner when you get home because lately you’ve been ordering too much takeout, and you have to organize your closet, and you have to give an adequate and peppy response to whatever Steve is about to say-

You’re bursting at the seams.

There isn’t much room for anything else. Any concern.

“You have something to say, Bucky?” You ask, and waggle your eyebrows.

He doesn’t crack a smile- just how you like it.

“I do,” he says, smugly, and then says your name in a way that ties your stomach up in knots, that has you thinking of flowers and chiffon.

“We were wondering if you’re free tomorrow,” Steve says, and then invites you out for drinks, for tomorrow evening.

So you’ve passed the initial threshold of friendship, and now you’re onto group drinking! That’s exciting- and you’ll get to see Bucky, and you’ll get to postpone that tedious process of planning out a date- a hang-out, and you’ll have an opportunity to show up in something besides jeans and sad sweatshirts.

There hasn’t been a chance to show it off to him, yet, but you can dress.

Steve mentions another friend named Sam, who might join, too, if that’s okay with you.

“I’m cool with it,” you say. “The more the merrier, right?”

He has to be a decent guy, if Steve associates with him, and you like new people.

But doesn’t Steve also associate with, like, Tony Stark?

That man is oh-so problematic. He rolls out with a new scandal every month. He’s had enough scandals that he could release a line of red-and-gold-themed calendars- with the dates of each scandal marked in. Each month could have its own photo, too, coinciding with the dates.

Tony Stark, making peace signs at a court hearing. Tony Stark, wasted on a yacht. Tony Stark, in the middle of an interview where he bashes people who have absolutely nothing to do with him.

“That sounds like fun,” you say, and Steve lets out a breath of relief, “but I have to ask, about Sam? Is he, like, a…”

An Avenger? A genetically-altered individual? A prominent public figure with a stupid amount of money?

“He’s a really nice guy,” Steve quickly says.

“He’s a pain in the ass,” Bucky says, immediately after him.

***

As it turns out, Sam Wilson is not a pain in the ass.

He is really nice, but more importantly, he is funny.

Bucky texted you the address a few hours ago. You walk into the bar and at once, you’re assaulted by an excess of dark- dark floors, dark lighting, dark accents on the decor. None of it is dingy, just low-lit. It’s a nice place.

It might be a little too nice- nothing like the sticky-floored, rowdy sports-themed bars you usually hit when you’re in the mood to get hammered.

You catch the back of a head, wavy brown hair and thick shoulders, in a booth tucked into the corner. Steve, sitting opposite him, against the wall, catches your eye and waves you over.

Next to Bucky is a guy you’ve never seen before, Sam. Black skin, close-cropped hair, looking over his shoulder to flash a grin at you. Even in a simple shirt, you can tell that he is built.

He’s an Avenger, then. Maybe.

You’ve just barely slid in beside Steve, and you’re grinning and making some dumb comment about the disaster that is the New York subway system, when Sam fixes you with a gleeful look and leans forward.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says, casting a side-eye at Bucky. “I’m not joking when I say this- I was starting to think that Barnes made you up. He’s always doing crazy shit like that. Anyways, you will not believe why I’m actually here.”

You humor him, because why the hell not? “Why are you actually here?”

Already, you can tell that he has that vaguely-ironic, purposely-stupid sense of humor, which you always find absolutely hilarious. And you want to know what he means by crazy shit.

Bucky looks up at you for a few charged seconds, telling you something you can’t decipher, and then ducks his hand back down to stare intensely at his drink. Something amber, with ice cubes.

“I’m here to make sure that you don’t feel bad. Because these two fossils,” Sam says, and Steve winces, “can’t get drunk. But I can! So if you wanna get trashed, I’m game.”

Under the dimmed lights, Sam’s teeth shine perfectly white. All of Steve’s friends seem to have perfectly white teeth.

“It’s because of the serum,” Steve says, and you just gawk.

They both can’t get drunk?  

Because of their fucking superhero vaccine?

“What the hell,” you say, and rest your elbows on the tabletop. Bucky’s gaze follows your arms, starting at the hems of the sleeves, trailing up to your shoulders. “That’s so… Steve, if you can’t get drunk, then why are you torturing yourself with that beer?”

“It’s for the feeling,” Steve says quietly, blushing pink, and Bucky is still quiet, and you have a feeling that this has something to do with nostalgia, or World War II, or something. The good old days.

Sam catches it too, so he buts in, quickly bringing the conversation back to something less layered, less wired.

He’s a man with nothing to hide. He tells you who he is with no hesitation, without trying to skip over or disguise anything- he’s open. He’s a war vet, too, and now an Avenger- he’s the Falcon. He has, he says, a pair of fancy-ass wings. And the coolest outfit.

“Wait,” you say, and you’re suddenly dying to know, “what does it feel like to fly?”

His eyes light up.

“You know when you’re trying to sleep, and then you randomly get that feeling that you’re falling, and your stomach does that thing?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s like that, but you can control it. It’s fucking amazing.”

He launches into a whole spiel, talking your ear off about the feeling of high-altitude wind on his skin and aerodynamics and some science-y things you don’t understand, and you get your own beer and enjoy the sweet feeling of getting buzzed on a weeknight, and as the edge you constantly have on yourself shifts, the seats shift, too.

You don’t know how, but you end up next to Bucky, in between him and the wall. Not touching, but close. Sam is across from you and Steve is next to him, and all of a sudden they’re talking about Chex Mix.

“If the Avengers were Chex Mix pieces,” Sam says, throwing the word Avenger around casually enough to make Steve’s hesitations seem horrendously uptight, “I would be the garlic chip. The best part of the whole damn bag. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

“Yeah, those chips are definitely the best part,” you say, adopting a mock-seriousness. “And Tony Stark would be one of those knobby-ass, crunchy little mini breadsticks.”

Sam mirrors your expression, nodding gravely, like what you’re both evaluating is a highly intellectual subject. “I completely agree. And for Rogers- man, you’re a pretzel.”

You narrow your eyes. “Square or circle?”

“Uh,” Sam says, turning to survey poor, unprepared Steve, looking equal parts bewildered and embarrassed. “Square.”

“Great choice. And Bucky?”

“Bucky…” Sam hesitates, and the briefest smile flashes over his face before he schools his expression back into objectivity, “Bucky is one of those original Chex squares. Sorry.”

“That’s cold,” you say, and Sam smiles again, and leans all the way back in his seat, bringing his hands behind his head.

“He’s not one of the yellow squares, though- those are actually good,” Sam starts, grin growing wider by the second, and you can’t tell if it would be rude to laugh. “He’s not one of those squares with extra seasoning, either. Bucky is just one of the plain brown squares. The wheat squares, or whatever the hell. Have you ever, like- have you ever wondered what the sole of a shoe tastes like? Or the eraser on top of a pencil? That’s what those taste like- that’s what he is. Just one of the plain Chex squares.”

Your jaw drops.

A roast like that from a halfway drunk man is absolutely scathing.

Bucky just levels a glare.

He’s used to this, you think. Is that his crazy shit? That he never reacts to anything?

You’re definitely a little tipsy- this is obviously no time to get wasted, but the edge has certainly been taken off, the corners of your world having gone hazy. In a lull, you watch a well-dressed man standing by the vestibule doors lean past your field of vision and receive what you think is a kiss on the cheek.

Without thinking, you lean close to Bucky and cup a hand over his ear.

Maybe he won’t react, maybe he will, but you’re not going to give him the time for either.

“I think that you’re the garlic chip,” you whisper loudly, and you’ll probably cringe yourself into oblivion over it when you're sober, but you think he shivers- and then he snorts.

“Thank you,” he says, and Sam putters out, giving you an amazed look.

***

“Heyyy,” you say later, turning to Bucky, when time has passed and you’re no longer on the subject of Chex Mix and he’s still a little too quiet. “What’s up?”

He’s quiet and troubled, drinking what might be whiskey like it’s water. Is it whiskey? You didn’t think that people actually drank whiskey- just kept it around in crystal decanters and silver flasks to look cool, like they’re main characters in a movie.

“The sky,” he says dryly, like you didn’t say that same exact shit when you were in middle school, hopelessly thinking that it was the slickest comeback.

“Very funny, James,” you say, and he huffs, and you feel a brief flash of panic, and then you’re almost apologizing, when he grins.

You know maybe three whole things about him, but you’ll press yourself up against him right here and now, under the low light of a fancy bar, with rain sliding down outside the window panes, with his friends right across the table. You don’t care.

His friends can tell.

“We’ll be right back,” Steve says suddenly, making a very showy display of getting up with Sam. Both of them send you obnoxious grins and suggestively raised eyebrows.

Bucky glares. You can’t stop smiling.

“You kids have fun,” Sam calls, and you laugh.

Just you and him, then. The mood shifts fast, turning from one thing to… another. Bucky’s eyes reflect the window outside, falling dark and darker, and you’re slipping, too.

“You look really nice,” Bucky says, and his eyes dip down in the slyest fucking move- you’re almost proud of him for it, for having such game.

A spark of heat flashes through you, as he takes you in slowly, like he’s trying to savor it.

You opted for a slightly tighter shirt, and a pair of jeans, but they’re your nice jeans. The ones without any weird streaks of paint on the thighs. And you wear a beaded necklace, and in your ears, a pair of fun, delicate hoop earrings, dangling with charms in the shape of crescent moons.

“Thanks,” you  lean back, into the wall, letting your voice drop to match the tone of his. “You do, too.”

He just stares at you, unamused. Still dark, and dangerous.

Purple chiffon, you think, and marigolds. The flower was meant for another friend, but she’ll have to manage, because now, you can only see Bucky with marigolds, with no room for anyone else.

“So,” you say, before the silence carries on and makes you do something stupid, “Done anything fun lately?”

He tenses. Again.

There’s all these things that you know you can’t ask him, things about his job and his hobbies and his metal fucking arm, which you still haven’t seen- which you’re fine with, but, like. It’s the fact that he has a metal arm in the first place- he is so detached from everything you know, and you aren’t sure if you know how to navigate it all. You don’t think he knows how to navigate it, either.

He’s hesitant, you think. But not unwilling.

You’re just going to roll with it.

”I watched a movie today,” he says, sounding so smooth that your clutch on your drink wavers. His eyes are raking you over, cold.

Red marigolds. Not the orange ones. Red marigolds with the little golden borders on the edges of each petal.

“Which movie?”

He shakes his head. “I forgot the name”

“Okay, well, what was it about?”

“Talking dogs.”

You laugh and he smiles, and then you feel light enough to float. “Talking dogs?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, and he takes a sip. His mouth is very pink. Layers, you think, layers and overlapping, to make the fabric look hazy. Washed-out. “They talk when their owners aren’t home.”

“That sounds right up your alley,” you say, and you’re giggly and he’s all smiley and maybe you’re being embarrassing, but whatever, because he’s looking at you like he’s never been smiley with anyone else before, and you really, really want to lean in.

You’ll wait.

***

Sam comes back with Steve a little bit later, but it isn't until you’re getting ready to leave when he brings it up.

“You’re good for him,” Sam says, while Bucky and Steve have gone to pay. Your drinks are on him- how chivalrous. “Honestly, you’re probably too good for him.”

You laugh as you shrug on your jacket. “Doubt it.”

“No, I’m serious,” he says, voice dropping to an urgent whisper. You realize at once that he’s about to say something heavy, something concerning. “He has been through some fucked-up shit. It’s not his fault, obviously, but it’s always there. He’s never going to get over it. Sometimes he doesn’t sleep. He just stays awake, for like, three whole days at a time. Sometimes he just disappears. He never tells anyone where he goes. Sometimes he does this thing where he-”

“I get it,” you say quickly, and he must be able to see your sudden dread, because his face softens.

“I’m not trying to scare you. I just want you to know- that that’s what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Thanks,” you say, and zip up your coat, and then pat your pockets even though you know you have everything, just so you have an excuse to not say anything. Sam gives you a long look, before sighing and pulling out his phone.

Obviously, Sam is trying to tell you that Bucky is damaged.

You’re not in the business of fixing things, but you’ll take him as he is anyway, because...

“Sam?” you say, and he looks up from his phone.

“Sometimes,” you start, and swallow down whatever anxiety is starting to surface, “Sometimes he’s being all quiet and moody and angsty and whatever, I get that same feeling that you’re telling me. But then, like, he just does something. Like, he’ll make a joke, or say something, and then it’s like-”

You struggle with your words- it’s like everything you want to say is there, but you can’t reach it. Sam slides his phone into his pocket, and Bucky is coming back, with Steve in tow, moon and sun, peas in a pod. You wonder if Sam makes their duo a trio, if he’s the third invitee to their slumber party, or if he’s just on the fringes.

“It’s like- It’s like, okay. Like, I know who he is and it’s all okay.”

He nods, and smiles at you, and you sincerely hope that he isn’t just on the fringes.

***

The paintings of your parents are finished- and they are good. So good. Every detail is there, every color. Every line. The wrinkles and the flowers and the lace neckline of your mother’s dress. Looking at them makes you feel so proud- it’s been forever since you were able to properly convey your thoughts onto canvas.

They’re big, too. Larger than life. You’ll have to rent one of those orange U-Haul trailers to transport them.

On a new canvas is Rina, only halfway painted. She looks good too, even though right now she’s just a head and a torso and two floating feet, because getting the colors on her legs right is harder than you thought. It’s tricky to paint the shadows and contours without her legs just looking bruised- there’s so many flower stems overlapping with the skin, so you don’t have a lot of room to work with.

You’ll figure it out.

You might be a little in over your head, actually. Confident- a little too confident. You don’t even have this painting done, and you’re itching to start on another. A possible recipe for disaster, but every time you have a spare second, in the shower or on the subway or when you’re trying to fall asleep, you find yourself thinking about it.

Not in bits and pieces the way most of your thoughts are, but a fully formed concept; a real, true image brimming with fullness, already starting to spill over into everything you do.

You have it all figured out. You know what techniques you’ll use. What composition, what colors.

You text Bucky.

Nothing crazy. You know you could scare him off, or maybe not, not anymore- by the end of the night at the bar last week, you sat next to him and bumped up against him and whispered in his ear, and right before you left he flicked the charm on your earring, watched it sway, and then he smirked- and you almost died.

You text him Hey, and then set your phone on the farthest surface you can find, pointedly avoiding it. Rina’s calves need attention- you have paint to mix.

Ten minutes later, your phone rings.

You can’t help it, you’re weak-hearted- you drop everything and dash to your phone, dodging your carts of supplies and hopping over a stack of toppled canvases that you never bothered to pick up, and pick up on the third ring.

“Hi,” you say into the receiver, slightly out of breath.

“Hi,” he says, and he sounds slightly out of breath, too.

“Um,” you say, and laugh a little, with the heady rush of nerves flooding in, “I wasn’t expecting you to call.”

“I called because I’m a slow texter,” Bucky says.

You feel so fluttery. When was the last time you felt this fluttery?

“Oh. That’s okay. I was just wondering if you... wanted to meet up sometime soon? Tomorrow, maybe?”

Tomorrow is Saturday, a day off. For you, at least- do Avengers get days off?

“Okay,” he says, and you swear he sounds pleased. You want to cut straight to something else. Skip, jump, leap over all of these steps, so you can get to what you really want to tell him. “I think I can do that. Where are we meeting?”

“There’s this little cafe we can… we can head there first, I’ll text you the address, but I have this idea,” you say, and wait for his invitation to continue, with your heart beating dangerously fast, thrumming like it might just burst through your ribs.

“What’s your idea?”

Thank you, you almost say, but don’t.

The steps are skipped, formalities disregarded- you just tell him.

It’s the perfect time- there’s that currently rare, pretty daylight that grows with each passing day streaming in through your windows unfiltered, blocked by no blinds or curtains. You pace a little, at first, right in the sun, and then sit down on a stool, toeing the smooth wood floors beneath, cradling the phone.

You start it off simple, with the marigolds.

Red marigolds, you specify, because you feel like you have to. Then you delve deeper, into chiffon and lighting and this thing you want to try out with layering, where two elements that overlap go by a completely different color scheme. Like, you say, like the flowers are red and the clothes are black, but the places where they meet are electric pink or orange or blue or something else unusual and distracting.

Save for the sound of his breathing, Bucky is quiet. You can tell that he’s really listening, probably sitting down somewhere and focusing on you, not doing some other task with your voice as background noise. He doesn’t interrupt when you go off on a tangent about the importance of natural lighting or contradict yourself with opposing statements on color choice, or when your words start to deteriorate, when they start pouring out so fast that they slur together and become less than coherent.

Your mind is going even faster- you can see the image even when you blink.

Something at the back of your thoughts tells you to stop, to slow down. You need to chill out.  

But the idea is so vivid, so you can’t- you don’t, not until the idea is totally exhausted and you give a final sigh and go quiet, not until after giving what could count as an entire fucking speech.

When Bucky speaks again, he sounds tentative.

“I… like it,” he says, and maybe he’s holding his phone at a bad angle, because his voice is quiet.

“You do?” You say, instead of asking something else, with a sudden bad feeling in your gut.

“Yeah. But…”

You know what he says without him having to say it.

It feels like you’ve been punched.

The picture behind your eyelids burns brighter.

“That’s okay,” you say in response to his unsaid words, speaking too late, so that it's obvious that it’s not okay.

Your heart is sinking, as if it has any right to, as if he’s in the wrong. How did you go from high to low so fast?

You scared him. You put too much pressure on him too fast- it’s exactly what Sam said, that he’s all levels of wary and weird, and little things can set him off, because of everything that he’s been through-

Even if he was someone else, though, even if he was normal, he would still say no- anyone would say no to being given such a request out of nowhere.

Well, Rina didn’t, but she doesn’t count in this situation, does she?

“Sorry,” he says.

That hurts worse.

“Don’t apologize,” you say quickly. “It’s not like it’s not going to work now- I mean, it’ll be fine. Are you still down to meet, though?”

“Sure,” he says, too late.

***

Bucky Barnes does not like anything in his coffee.

He takes it black, black like his clothes, black like his soul, black like whatever other emo shit you can come up with.

It’s not that funny anymore.

Still, you keep up with it- you’re funny and talkative and charming and everything else, because you don’t know what else to do. The subject will be broached, it’s inevitable- you’ll broach it, even, but you still have to figure out how.

He’s subdued. And wearing his stupid hat, again, and you would give anything to knock it off so you could really see him, and he’s cautiously cradling his mug in a way that makes you ache everywhere.

The cafe is busy and decorated with a specific aesthetic, one that you would call manufactured bohemian. Potted plants and quirky photographs and drinks that all have fancy and ridiculous names. The baristas wear yellow aprons, and if you have a membership card, every tenth purchase gets you a free sugar cookie iced with a smiling sun.

Your cappuccino foam is dissolving. Sometimes, even though it’s mostly tasteless, you swipe it up and eat it with a spoon. Today, it seems like a bad idea- frivolous in the face of his silence and your unmotivated charisma and this stupid idea lingering between you two, like a friend that’s overstayed their welcome.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, and wonder why you feel so jumpy for saying it. “For bringing that thing up yesterday.”

To your own credit, you still sound confident.

He looks at you so darkly that you wonder if you should be afraid. Have there ever been others in your seat, afraid?

You’re not afraid.

“It’s fine,” he says, and continues staring at you like it’s not fine.

“I’m just- I was just thinking out loud,” you say. You feel like you have to explain yourself, prove something to him, so that you won’t wilt. “It was just an idea that I thought could be cool. I told you because, no , wait. I mean, I know that I- fuck. I’m sorry that it made you uncomfortable. That was really dumb of me.”

He tilts his head, eyes sliding over, and you shiver.

He looks bored.

Which is unnerving and terrifying as hell, because you have this carefully hand-crafted, precisely-cut image of who you are supposed to be, and it is not meant to be boring in the slightest, but he's bored, and you’re going to lose it.

“I said it’s fine,” he says, monotonously, giving the sudden impression that he’s about to leave. But he’s just sitting in his seat, unwrapping his hands from his mug and setting them on the table, while your hands are on the verge of shaking. “It didn't make me uncomfortable.”

If that was true, then you wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place. You wouldn’t be stumbling over yourself to say something so simple.

It takes considerable effort to keep your gaze steady. “Okay. But I still- I just want to say a thing really quick.”

“Say it.”

He’s being mean.

But this thing has been eating at you for a while now, so you don’t care.

“Um, so, we’re really different people,” you start, and before you second-guess it, you adopt your speaker voice, the teaching voice, the smart one. He has to know this about you- you’re smart. “And you obviously have all of your own things going on in your life that I can’t even imagine, and if you ever want to, like, talk about it, I’m here, but I also don’t care.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You push on.

“Like, it’s not important to me. If you want it to be, then it’ll be, but if not, then it’s whatever. I'm not- when I see you, I just see you. Does that make sense? Like, I don’t really think of any of that other stuff? If I’m supposed to, though, I’m sorry. I… I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

You don’t get nervous often, but you let out a small, nervous laugh.

It’s like your heart and head and lungs are suspended, frozen in ice while he takes your words in. The door to the cafe chimes and a large group of people step in. Middle aged women, all wearing athletic clothes. Devil’s ivy grows on the wall farthest from you- how chic- with vines snaking forward in your direction, reaching for you in green and streaky white.

He smiles.

All you see is teeth and creased eyes and a low, uncreased brow- you want to kiss him.

“Tell me the idea again,” he says, and leans back in his seat. He crosses his arms, and you watch his forearms shift and strain against his shirt, and then you clear your throat and look away and try to focus.

You inhale and gather everything, hoping that this time, you’ll be able to make it make sense.

***

One thing spirals into another. Your words were building and building, rising like a crescendo, overwhelming you to the point where you just said it outright, and-

He’s now in your apartment.

He is literally in your apartment.

You watch him survey the area- the clutter, the mismatched furniture, the crooked posters and photos and artwork hung up on the walls. The subpar paint on the walls that you didn’t choose, the cabinets made of old wood with newly replaced handles.

The entire place is creaking, becoming worse for the wear with each passing day. You could probably afford nicer, but it doesn’t matter, because you love it here- you’ve formed an emotional attachment that goes beyond sad paint and constant repairs. Your home is cozy.

But right now, with Bucky in here, it’s suddenly cramped.

“I want you to sit over here,” you say, and facing a great window, rounded on top with those gorgeous little decorative swirls, which is your favorite part of the whole place, is an armchair. It’s a steal you found at an antique store, with little tassels lining the back of the seat, upholstered with the tackiest floral print you’ve ever seen, but it’s perfect for what you’re trying to do.

The sun is shining strong and unfiltered- he’ll be lit up.

Bucky sits. He looks on edge, and beautiful.

You want to make this easy for him. But you might be too swept away in him to make any efforts- you’re still in shock that he agreed to this in the first place, so disoriented with him being here, in your place, that your trains of thought keep on derailing.

You’re closer than you wish you were, closer to losing it.

“Perfect. Give me one second.”

You go to your room, which isn’t really a room but a sectioned-off alcove with a bit of wall blocking it from view, no door- weird architecture, but whatever, to retrieve your supplies. Tape and the neatly folded swatches of fabric and your camera.

Photography isn’t your thing, but you need reference material.

When you return, he’s looking pensive, and dazzling. His arms fall tensely on the sides of the chair, but his hands dangle so gracefully, and the light catches his face and colors it golden- you are going to lose it when it comes to painting his eyes. They’re blue, but you see them as suns.

“You look great,” you say, and he blushes. You’re ready to pounce, right now.

The fabric is a little bit awkward. It has to be draped upon him- Bucky bristles at your actions in a way that tells you he’s never done anything even remotely like this before, but you persist, and he lets you.

“Get out of the chair really quick.”

“Okay.”

Bucky gets out of the chair. You hop up on it, to tape the corners of the fabric to the ceiling. It’s a flimsy attempt, but they hold and flutter just fine.

He takes you by the hand to bring you back down.

“Careful,” he says, as you make the daunting two-and-a-half-foot descent, and he squeezes your hand in his gloved one before you make him sit down again.

You are buzzing with electricity. Another point to him- that was smooth.

The loose ends of the fabric are tricky, You try at first to tape them to the back of the chair, moving back behind him to reach. Bucky’s head stays perfectly still, and the chiffon looks wrong. It looks weirdly stiff.

So you drape one on him like planned, sort of dripping down his shoulder in a bunched-up purple river, and let the other hang freely, swaying a little from the fragility of the tape.

You move back around to face him.

“This is perfect,” you say, and grin, because this is finally happening. “You look perfect.”

He’s staring all intensely again. You want to come close to him, tell him how lovely he looks, straight out of a dream. You’re so pretty, you almost say, but you have some semblance of rational thought left in you- and so you stay quiet.

The camera dangles from its strap around your neck. You take it in your hands and power it on. The settings are adjusted, and you fiddle with the shutter speed and focus and everything else before bringing it close to your eye, expecting this dream-

He’s all tense, again.

It’s the lens, you immediately think, even though that doesn’t really make sense. You look like- you look like him when he does his things. Lenses and targets and crosshairs. How is this thought so immediate?

You’re just trying to take a picture.

“Relax,” you say, and it does absolutely nothing.

“I am relaxed,” he bites out.

He’s really not. There’s something shifting in his face, something discontented, a brewing storm. His hands are starting to harshly curl into the armrests, digging at the upholstery, distorting the flowers.

The chiffon looms.

“Fix your hands. Like, move them- no, turn them back,”

You’re stooping over to fully capture him, almost ready to take a knee.

His hands flex and stay as they are, stressed and taut and not right, and the rest of him is still so-

You bring the camera down.

***

He’s in this ugly chair, surrounded by fabric, and you’re pretty and wearing a pale pink sweater, and you’re aiming a camera at him, for a picture, but he feels like a target.

White-hot adrenaline and cold and dark dread pull at both sides of him. He feels like a total mess.

Is this they all felt- how they all feel, when he is aiming at them? He tries to do things differently, now, but the tragedy still takes place, the trigger is still fired- the deed is still done. Karma, he thinks, retracing its path, coming back to bite him through you.

You’re frowning. He wants to apologize.

You take the camera down and let it dangle from the strap at your neck. He just had your hands in his- he wants them back and wants to get as far away from you as possible.

“This isn’t working,” you say, and straighten back up, placing your hands on your hips. You look powerful, and he might be trembling from clenching his jaw so hard. “You are not relaxed.”

“I’m not,” he agrees, and you sigh and fix him with a look that isn’t pity- he’d bolt if it were pity, but steely resolve.

You take the camera off your neck, and gently bend over to set it on the floor. Then you sit down beside it, wincing as your knee makes a noise, and giving him a bemused little smile that he wants to just-

Your head level with his knees as you sit, cross-legged. Hands splayed over your lower thighs, careless and carefree. Your posture slouches a bit, relaxing the way he is not, and it's relieving.

His hands grip the chair like a lifeline.

“Why isn’t this working?” You ask, more yourself than him. “You were so- nevermind. Or, Let’s… um, wait. Maybe- Can I?”

He’s always thought of you as so put-together, a born speaker, but now you’ve been stammering and stuttering all over his heart, and he doesn’t know what to do.

You reach out with your hand, hesitantly, wavering. The scar smiles pink.

He nods- his head nods, his body is moving outside of itself, and he feels sheltered and exposed, nearly covered in purple fabric and vulnerable and sitting above you, all of him bared for you to see. Hot and cold.

Your hand goes on his knee.

He’s so alarmed that he almost lashes out- he wants to think, but you’re giving him no time to-

Your other hand is reaching out, tugging at his own, and you bring yourself up to your knees and lean back on the balls of your feet, balancing. Your head is still below his chest and tilted so he can’t see your eyes, and you’re holding his hand like it’ll break.

There’s a dry-erase board fastened on the opposite wall, next to all of the other eclectic clutter. It’s filled in with a to-do list- the words COOK SOMETHING are scrawled at the top in angry red marker. He focuses on the words as you play with his fingers.

You gently trace a thumb over the ridges of his knuckles; he’s suddenly so ticklish that he flinches and chokes on a word that he doesn’t know how to say.

You nudge his hand over to the side, drape the fingers down, and your other hand is still burning his knee, setting him alight-

You’re molding him. Setting him to look how you want, manhandling him in the softest way possible. Should this feel violating? Rude? It feels good- purposeful. He’s letting you do this, and his heart is beating hard, but he can still hear your breathing and his breathing and the white noise of the traffic on the street below, stories away.

You take your hand off his knee, and nudge at his left hand, and he thinks now, how fucking stupid this is- if it’s his fucking hand, why does he wear this stupid fucking glove?

He goes to work it off and you understand, and if he wasn’t wanting so badly to be still for you, stay here as you take your picture, he would grab you by the necklace you’re wearing and drag you closer.

The glove is pulled off and dropped to the floor and the silver of his hand winks in the sunlight.

“Oh,” you say softly, and there’s a crack in your voice, and his voice would crack too, if you asked him to speak.

There’s this look on your face. He doesn’t know if you want to hold his hand or kiss it or put his fingers in your mouth, it looks like all three and he is all unfurled, too, because he is sitting back in this ugly armchair and you’re holding his hands again, and you’re backlit by the sun- like a vision sent straight from the sky.

You fix his hands.

This feels intimate- more intimate than kissing, or anything else. This feels like skipping steps.

After a moment, you pry your hands off of his, and lean back.

Wordlessly, you take the camera and stand up, and you fiddle it and back up, back to where you were at first, far away. Then you’re bringing it close to your eye, looking at him through a lens, and the shutter clicks once, twice.

You bring it back down.

“You got it?” He says, and his voice sounds rough- he sounds parched.

You look at its little screen and bite your lip. “Yeah.”

“Can you come here for a second?”

You look up at him and he’s glad that he couldn’t see your eyes before- they’re dark. “Yeah.”

The camera is tossed to the side, again, and you walk like you’re floating. The steps have been skipped, but Bucky will have to go back to them anyway- he doesn’t like to leave any stones unturned-

And so he waits until you’re close enough, and then tugs you down by your sweater- he doesn’t want to hurt you, and he’s reaching and reaching-

You laugh or smile or do something else sweet, but he’s too caught up to tell. He pulls you down to him, and surrounded by you and sunlight and fluttering purple chiffon, he kisses you.

[denrbough]

In defense of bill denbrough

I don't have the room for screenshots (I tried to make them a gif of a slideshow but it kept crashing Tumblr bc huge files) but I'll sum up a few things I want to clear up in this

People thinking that Bill chose to be in charge of the losers to be bossy

Him wanting to leave Eddie in the sewers just because

That he was selfish

That he didn't have important problems ig?? Or that his story was uninteresting??

I want to talk about his perseverance despite a bad home life

And how the losers love him, if the losers you love can love him, you can too

And my last point is about how most people think somehow that Bill would be at all discriminatory??

I have bits and pieces from the book for all the claims and more coming below; I reread the whole book for this but kept what seemed most important to bring up

First; I'm going to start with how Bill didn't actually choose to be in charge, he didn't want to boss people around. It was clear in him and also sometimes noticed by the other losers, notably Eddie:

Eddie notices twice that the whole leadership thing is taking a major toll on Bill's physical and emotional health. That and Bill doesn't want to be the planner and the leader. He thinks he's a freak and he doesn't think he knows what he's doing. They nominated him as leader from a young age. He couldn't control that. (In order to preserve image quality and go into more detail on specific screenshots I will be making individual metas on each of my bullet points, this is just the large post where I vent my issues with the fandom perception)

Next I'd like to debunk the assumption that Bill wanted to leave Eddie in the sewers. He didn't, he wanted to come out alive with the others who still had a chance at making it. If you want further to analyze this, it can be brought up that Richie and Bev didn't want Bill to take Audra's alive body from the sewers despite us all saying Bill is the asshole for not being able to carry Eddie out.

In fact, Bev and Ben were the ones to originally suggest leaving Eddie. And to further that, Bev yelled at Bill for trying to get the living human out as well. Bev's motivations were more rushed and selfish, but Bill had the overarching goal of getting them all out.

That segways nicely into a point I'd like to make about how Bill genuinely was the most determined to kill It and not just for his own reasons, he thought of the other kids who might die several times while the other losers like to gloss over that:

When Richie went to go see the horror picture, he decided to pretend Bill's fingers hadn't almost been cut off. Put it off as a joint hallucination. And direct quote "besides there was no law saying he had to spend the next ten years thinking about it, was there? Nope"

If Bill hadn't pleaded with Richie to help, Richie would have had no intention of trying to get rid of It and save the other kids, even after Richie had to watch his friend get injured firsthand.

Stan was the same, not wanting to end up in the "nuthouse" on juniper hill. But Bill's motivation to save the town pulled even the most hesitant losers in to help.

And it's not just saving the kids from pennywise. No, he initiated a fight with Bowers not even knowing that his friends would join him and help, all to help a kid that he didn't even know. Mike Hanlon.

Not only was he the most determined, but in regards to pennywise trauma, he already had something very lasting to deal with as far as his mental health. His parents were neglectful and his brother was dead, and he kept on trying regardless. He was depressed, which is very clear in the book.

There's the point when he's getting Eddie's inhaler and it states "just as if Ben would be astounded if you asked him if he was lonely, Bill would have been likewise astounded if asked if he was courting death."

The narration makes it abundantly clear that Ben is lonely and always has been, which symbolises here that Bill is clearly suicidal, even if not actively, he does try to die/do things to harm himself with no intention of stopping.

This passage was heartbreaking. His fear in this scene was that everyone would forget about him, like his parents did, and like Georgie was gone. It's all his fault, he decides, and he thinks he deserves to be punished but he's still fully terrified of what he thinks he deserves.

In that note, his parents were neglectful, which affected him consistently in his thought process.

He wouldn't finish dinner because he couldn't stand to sit with them when they were so cold with him.

Mike mentions as adults that Bill practiced that poem so much because Bill wanted so badly for his mom to think he's a good boy. Bill cried at this, again as an adult.

He wanted to take pennywise's severed head to his parents and talk about how he'd avenged Georgie and "would they please finally talk to him"

He even thinks one point about how his parents are so caught up in their grief that he wonders if they know he's hurting, or if he's being reckless.

But unlike Sharon and Zack Denbrough. The losers were smitten with him. There's several passages of the losers talking about how much he means to them or how good he is.

Not to mention that Bill is the only one Bev told about her abusive father. She told him and he coaxed it out of her to let herself say she hated him, which is a huge turning point in the development of the way she views evil.

On a whole new thread of thought, I'd like to bring up how the fandom likes to pretend that Bill would be the most discriminatory loser?? I have a whole other meta to write about comparing losers in that way but Bill very clearly had the least ill intent towards minorities.

He met Mike and Mike was scared he'd ask questions about what it was like to be black, but Bill just asked him about baseball, and this comforted Mike. There's also when Richie is teaching Eddie about syphilis and how men and women get it from fucking, and Bill jumps in to say "unless it's two guys who are queer" and he had no malace or upset towards gay men, he just found it important to include in the conversation, which could be a nod to Bill accepting Eddie as gay, or even being mlm himself because it was a quick thought to have if it wasn't something prevalent in his life. He knows the shopkeep where he got silver the second time was gay, and was apologetic for scaring him, mentally acknowledging the hate crime

If you read this whole thing you deserve a prize for being a champ bc I'm more long winded than Stephen King himself Anna oop-

[drkineildwicks]

Temtem - the Saga continues - 1/25/2020

Okay game time! :D

Updating….

Okay while we wait I want to discuss—oh wow no wait time again

Talk later

“Hello young pupil, what’s your name?”  Options are:

·         Kineil (my name)

·         Guybrush

·         Inigo Montoya

Do I want to be a mighty pirate or tell this guy he killed my father, prepare to die?

“Hi, my name’s Guybrush Threepwood, and I’m a mighty pirate!”

There are trash cans I’ma root through ‘em

I FOUND AN ETHER

Maniac Bison love the name

And Crasher

And ceramic

Hello Mary Lou (goodbye heart)

Frank Pasta love it XD

Rice Farmer and Pho Real I’m starting to regret just going with Kineil

Let’s see, am I Kineil the Temtem Tamer, Kineil the Private Detective, or Kineil the Sillaro Pirate?...

“I’m Temtective Kineil, what’s your beef?”

“I’m a tamer, check my swagger.”

Okay, moving on….

Might be visiting the healing center a lot….

I love the stamina mechanic means you gotta think about what you’re doing….

I catch new Temtem I may cycle out some but I don’t know who yet….

I was thinking Snuggie, Nightshade, and Tay-toe but Tay-toe is actually a hard hitter my gosh

Ah, new—girl.

GIRL POWER TO THE MAX

The girl is a Skail

Skail Jael with a Nail

Tay-toe learned a new move!

Someone on Tumblr said you can drag and drop from the UI in the corner to change your team order YOU CAN THAT’S AWESOME LOVE THAT LITTLE QUALITY OF LIFE THING

AAAAH SNUGGIE EVOLVED SHE CAN FLY NOW

PIG!

Friendly male pig

THEY CALL HIM MISTER PIG!!! AAAAAAAAAAA

Oh wait I’m not allowed that hmmmm

THE BACONATOR

Okay so I gotta swap the Baconator in because of a side quest…maybe do two and train them up?  Could save me some grinding later on

Don’t really want to swap out Turtlinni but she’s weak to the moves in this area

And I’m just now realizing I could have named her Jemma oops

Got Baconator and Tay-toe bacon and potatoes XD

And I love how Tay-toe’s attack animation looks like she’s cannonballing her enemies XD

Ooh Jael’s new move she is an anger girl

The—the squid is named “Kalazu”—IS THAT A SURF’S UP REFERENCE???

AUGH THESE PIGEPIC ARE KILLERS THEY DESTROY WITH PASSION WHYYYY

Start running from them because they have like a faint-thing where if you knock them out they still do damage

I am running into a bit of a glitch where if you hover over a move real quick in battle it’ll show how much stamina goes and flash for that one until the battle phase is over so that’s weird

Okay new Temtem!

Male horned bee….

Lowkey XD

Okay I can finally use Held Anger….

…

Jael I have concerns

Okay I’m going to have to do some MAJOR grinding this game is kicking my can and has a steep curve I LOVE IT

Ollie-Yeet, love your name :D

OOH MY FIRST PVP BATTLE!

It was by the skin of my teeth but I won! ;v;

Oh a clothing store

Listen you guys let me start with ACTUAL PANTS I’m fine

Impersonated a tour guide because the guy who was supposed to do it was waiting for a guy who was waiting for WIP stuff to come it gets convoluted

Got an umbrella for my trouble

Oop game crashed on the bridges ^^;

Probably a good time to quit

  Okay SO!  what I was going to say earlier was that this is very good and it’s great because it gives Pokémon competition I know people say Yo-Kai Watch was supposed to as well but the thing is when Yo-Kai Watch came out people were still pretty satisfied with Pokémon.  Now, with all the stuff going on, the Zelda trees, the Dexit, the reused animations…a lot of us had complaints and the only way we could express those complaints in a way they would listen was by not buying the game.

NOW—if Temtem takes off, Game Freak now has real competition and has to either shape up or ship out. :D

And to clarify, since I’ve seen a lot of people who seem confused on the matter:

SOCIALISM: You take this game with half the Pokémon and obvious rushed qualities, scaled up 3DS game, and you will LIKE IT

CAPITALISM: So we made this game because we like the play style but these are different and now those guys have competition.  Meantime those guys see the money leave and have to react to keep customers

  Capitalism and the free market gives the power and voice to the consumer, and this consumer is saying play Temtem. :D

[gr-ogu]

When you get this, you must publicly post something nice about at least 5 different people you follow, then copy and paste this in each of their ask boxes

Okay so, I got like three of these asks, and for the sake of not spamming people’s dashes I’m just gonna do one post and tag many people and put it under a read more!!!!!!!

I would like to say there are SO many people I could put on lists like these so pls don’t think I don’t care about you if you’re not here!!!!!!! I have a lot of love to give but I can’t put everyone here in one go sdjfhjdfhjd!!!

@mikewheeler @elhoppers @scooptroops @lucascsinclairs @milevenhearteyes @milliebbrowns @fatechica @ericasinclairs @robinbuckleyy @milevens @martygalwrites @serendipitousrambles @summer-in-hawkins @mikeswheeler @sadiesinkt

@mikewheeler ally is LICH RALLY the nicest and most understanding person on the planet. I can tell her ANYTHING and she has honestly been one of the kindest friends I’ve met on my time on tumblr!!!! She’s the warm hug you need after a long day and I know I could call her 25/8 and she would be there if I needed her which honestly means the WORLD. She makes everything seem better even in the worst of times, and I can never thank her enough for that. 11/10 would die for her. Also I ruin my sleeping pattern every night for her so she loves me ;) THE MOST TALENTED GIF MAKER AND ALL AROUND WONDERFUL PERSON. LOML TBH WITH YOU.

@elhoppers SARAH. MY LOVE. MY LIGHT. I feel SO lucky to have met such a bubbly, thoughtful, positive soul in person. I could talk to Sarah for HOURS about anything and everything. Truly a comrade for life and she knows what I’m thinking even if I haven’t said it, which is useful bc sometimes my Thoughts should not be shared out loud ksdhfjkdfhjdfh. We have SO much in common and she’s so fun to talk to and scream with. Always down to overshare with this gal bc we get each other on a level. TWINS SEPARATED AT BIRTH TBH. also her gifs KILL me she always comes in swinging, especially where our daughter el or mileven is concerned!!!!!!!

@scooptroops omg how do i even BEGIN to describe my love for mady tbh? the funniest, wittiest, sluttiest and BEST human being i’ve ever met. not only is she fiercely loyal but she’s a true Baddie who always has my back. I love Mady so much I regularly talk about my love for her to people who don’t even know her, bc that’s just How It Be. this girl has me laughing until I cry with her hilarious memes and also crying with Pain at her beautiful gifs. She makes?? The best art?? On the planet?? Truly the full package and joe keery would be LUCKY to date her (sorry @ mady’s bf skdjfhjkfhfjdgh). I know I can talk to her about anything and I love Mady so so SO MUCH. Bestie and sister-wife for LIFE

@lucascsinclairs ohhhhh the ways i could describe jazz. GORGEOUS (inside and out), the most hilarious, supportive, understanding, caring, intelligent friend. I’m so so lucky to have someone in my life who is simultaneously so level-headed she can calm me down in an instant, and also engages in THE most crackhead-headassery with me AT ALL TIMES. insert *we irritating* meme right here. love this gal to DEATH. like i would literally die for her. 10/10 memes. 10/10 face. 10/10 EVERYTHING. I ALWAYS smile when I see Jazz pop up and I would be lost without her at this point!!!!!!!! LIVE for all our long chats and rants, Jazz is honestly one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met!

@milevenhearteyes ELLIEEEEEEEEEEE. MY BABY! Even though she’s older than me but don’t mention that ;) ;) ;) hands down, one of the sweetest, most genuinely caring and understanding people I’ve ever come across. But also the most SAVAGE oh my god she will sass you to the moon and back and i am HERE FOR IT! One day Ellie and I are going to meet and it’s going to be the summer of love and we’re going to have deep chats about what an influential and strong woman she is AND ALSO ABSOLUTELY SCREAM THE LYRICS TO TANGLED. CAN’T WAIT!!!!!!!! LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!!!! EVEN IF YOU HATE SOL I STILL LOVE YOU!!!!!! ;)

@milliebbrowns what can I say? 20/10 obsessed with this insane woman since the day I met her. Literally in awe of everything she does, especially her gif making talent. ALWAYS comes in with the tea, which……. I OOP I LOVE. One of the funniest people I’ve ever spoken to and I am always here for her Vaguely Chaotic and Loving Energy!!!!!!!!! will talk to me about anything and everything and never bullies me bc she loves me too much!!!!!!!!!! ;) LOVE THAT FOR ME. also go and talk to her about joe jonas but NOT nick………………… don’t even think about it. if you do you WILL be blocked on sight, although you’re probably already blocked because? colleen just knows these things? LOVE YOUUUU

@fatechica Julie - my absolute DARLING! Not only is she an absolutely incredible writer, she is a dear friend. I am constantly blown away by her talent, drive and ambition. NOT TO MENTION WE ARE BRAIN TWINS!!!!!!!! IT’S ACTUALLY KINDA SCARY BUT I LOVE IT. SO supportive and absolutely is here for all my crackhead, meme-loving, sluttiness and honestly, how could anyone ever compare to that? Gives THE best advice and is always telling it how it is, which I appreciate more than anything. 10/10 QUEEN who i adore and i can’t wait for the joint fic we’re going to write one day ;) ;) ;)

@ericasinclairs VAL. MY ANGEL. MY STEVE-LOVING PARTNER FOR LIFE. Honestly any time Val speaks I get excited because she always has something interesting, adorable or hilarious to say. LITERALLY MY GO TO SOURCE FOR EVERYTHING ST RELATED, LIKE THAT GIRL WORKS FOR THE FBI I SWEAR! IT’S INSANE! Out here making me laugh with the best memes and wowing me with her clever and gorgeous gifsets, like for real. This girl could run the world if she wanted to. 10/10 provider of the rares too, for which I owe her my life ;) honestly val is just a genuinely hilarious, talented, kind sweetheart whomst i adore

@robinbuckleyy ANNA! MY LOVE! MY BABY! LITERALLY ADORE THIS GIRL SO SO SO MUCH. Luckily she was introduced to my joe/steve-loving ass right off the bat so she puts up with my crazy ways and just laughs because she loves me for who i am ;) THE PRETTIEST, MOST INSIGHTFUL BEAN EVER WHO WRITES THE MOST AMAZING FICS!! SERIOUSLY!! GO AND READ THEM IF YOU HAVEN’T!! I am constantly in awe of her because she is SO mature and level-headed and I can’t believe what an excellent human being she is and how much she’s going to BOSS whatever she does in the future, because I KNOW she will!!!!!!!!

@milevens kate!!! a darling!!! a babe!!!!! i have loved stranger things since it first aired but kate was my first ever true interaction with the fandom, when i read one of her mileven fics and the rest was HISTORY! an insanely creative and talented gif-maker and writer, like she out here running a blog for the DECADES. I LOVE IT! I don’t know where I would be without kate’s work, tbh. Probably sad? Mileven stan for LIFE and I fuck with that. so looking forward to getting to know her better !!!!!!!!! and also the insanely generous person i have to thank for this ICONIQUE url she gave me, like could your fave ever? 

@martygalwrites oh my god. marty is actually SUCH a legend i stan her so hard? we didn’t start speaking until recently but she’s so quickly become one of my favourite people???? writes 11/10 amazing fics, like how could anyone NOT cry at her talent? ALWAYS coming in with the hot takes and realness, and a TRUE joe hoe at her core. ALWAYS APPRECIATES MY MEMES AND VALIDATES ME BECAUSE SHE IS SUCH A KIND, LOVING PERSON. genuinely in awe of how articulate but also downright funny this woman is. literally just radiates Cool Energy like how can I be you tbh? can’t wait to come and stay at her house so we can go to a djo concert together

@serendipitousrambles oh my gosh, not only does jess write the most AMAZING FICS AND DRABBES THAT KILL ME ON THE DAILY, SHE’S SO ELOQUENT AND PATIENT AT RESPONDING TO PEOPLE?? EVEN WHEN THEY’RE RUDE TO HER?? a truly thoughtful and supportive friend, who I’m so lucky I got to meet !!!!!!!!! her obsession with ST and HP parallels mine so that when you KNOW you’ve found a good one. ALWAYS comes in swinging with her mileven analysis and headcanons, like i swear she’s just out to attack me Personally at all times??? a wonderfully funny and talented human bean

@summer-in-hawkins Kaisa!!!!!!! an actual angel!!!!!!!! her gifs are SO good like she regularly blows me away with her talent and her creativity - it’s unparalleled. Not only is she one of the sweetest people ever, she’s so genuinely calm, rational and insightful, I am in awe? she works SO hard and I always smile when I see her speaking and speak to her because she always has something fascinating to say! truly so passionate about whatever she’s doing which means she can do ANYTHING she sets her mind to; kaisa has so many qualities people should want to embody because she’s honestly a ray of light on a cloudy day!! amazing human!!!

@mikeswheeler KYY!! A QUEEN!!! ALWAYS SLAYING ME WITH HER GIFS AND MOODBOARDS TBH!!!! I don’t get to talk to her as much as I’d like, but when I DO? WOW. One of the most supportive and encouraging friends ever, 10/10 will always be there to hype me and I could not be more grateful for that. Also I love to make her lose her mind with all my crazy steve and joe tags, because the answers I get in response are absolutely HILARIOUS. just an all-round funny, helpful, lovely person who i am so lucky to know!!! like seriously!!!! brilliant human alert!!!!

@sadiesinkt ughhhhhh tuva is a BABE like no words to describe this darling of a human!!!!!!! firstly, her graphics? absolutely STELLAR like teach me your ways lend me your creativity pls!!!!! honestly i cry every time i look at them they’re so so SO good. secondly, she’s such a kind and giving person - we haven’t spoken too much but whenever we do i am struck by how thoughtful and authentic she is!!!!!! has my back and i could not be more thankful for that!!!! possessor of some ICONIQUE urls and just an overall amazing human!!!!!!!!!

[ssaalexblake]

" #13 is already scary club!!!!! #she's just more emotionally mature than men 1 through 12" THIS, I am fully into this and agree!

Yeah, I mean, the first run through of season 11 I ended up focusing more on her chipper side, so I deliberately watched out for anger and personality faults on my second go through, and really, it’s all there in Whittaker’s performance. Especially in Resolution, which isn’t surprising considering what the bad guy was, it was also, strictly speaking, the first proper barometer we’ve had to measure thirteen’s reaction to something we’ve seen the other doctors react to.

I just have a lot of very jumbled thoughts about the actual narrative, where i think they’re going with this, and kind of… Weariness?? At the logic behind wanting a ‘snap’ from 13 just to prove she’s angry?? I ended up using this as an excuse to vent stuff i’ve been trying to say but am bad at putting into words, oops.

I mean, 13 was Clearly not in a good mood over that Dalek. Compare her reaction to seeing Tim Shaw again to seeing the Dalek again and that’s brutally obvious. She blatantly mocked Tooth face, and regarded him so little that she just marched off away from him and pretty much forgot entirely about him while trying to put those planets back where they came from, even After she realises that Tim Shaw pretty much slaughtered the inhabitance of a handful of entire planets she still totally disregards him.

Which, frankly, is kind of terrifying in itself considering what he did to (potentially) many billions of people, and says a lot about the doctor’s view on casualty counts, but not currently my point. In the end, she doesn’t even end up doing a single thing about him, and just leaves him in the stasis pod that it’s Very unlikely anybody will come across ever again considering the planet messes with the brains of whoever walks on it, even time lords!

Aaaaaand compare and contrast to Resolution, 13′s entire frame of mind in the whole episode was in crisis mode, she did not let it get one over on her, but she was Clearly incredibly more worked up in this episode, which, contrasting with the previous ep, is kind of jarring.

She’s erratic, frantic, at times perversely entertained, accidentally changed the entire tardis colour scheme to red in a fit of temper, takes out time more than once to taunt the dalek (and uhm.. she does this and it gets away and the next scene is of it slaughtering a bunch of soldiers), oh… And that thing where Ryan’s dad was like, about to get spaced and die horribly with the dalek and she just froze and did absolutely nothing about it. I mean, in the same episode she controls the tardis with a clap of her hands… which i will assume was just her doing it telepathically and being weird about it, which means she really doesn’t get to use ‘well i was holding on myself’ excuse to get out of That one, and this is among other things which i’m sure i’ve forgotten.

More importantly, i can trace the above things back to moments in previous episodes, like, perverse glee??? Demons of the Punjab. Anger??? King James just had that effect on her even when he Wasn’t actively being a sexist asshole, she didn’t like him hitting too close to home. Threatening? Kerblam’s ‘if i ever find out you’re lying’. Taunting? she legit taunts Krasko into straight up throttling her. Sacrifice one for the good of the many? Kerblam, you could easily view Charlie as her first proper kill. It all has roots, didn’t come from nowhere.

I’ve spoken before about how she’s deliberately tempering her anger, and how it all roots back to ‘laugh hard, run fast, be kind’, but i feel like that’s kinda made it seem to people that she’s not scary just because she’s not being openly ostentatious about it?? When in actuality she’s just performing intense amounts of emotional labour in a genuine effort to improve herself, and it’s not gender based because canonically this utter disaster had no clue how lousy they’d been to their female companions or anybody else until some very blunt life lessons… in an episode in the back half of the season, so canonically we legit Can’t write her previous behaviour off on any kind of female socialization.  

And while I feel like we are heading to 13 crashing and burning, you know, figuratively (but she’s still the doctor so i won’t rule out a 50% chance of literal crashing and burning), bottling isn’t a super idea either and she’s probably going to combust, i’m justminorly uncomfortable with the insinuation that the base line of all anger is the explosive outbursts the doctor is prone to. I’m not against her snapping and having a classic doctor outburst, pretty sure that’s where they’re heading because she’s slowly but surely gradually losing ground with the image she’s trying to project and the only time we’ve already seen her called on it (king james) she… Did not react positively.

I just have issues with the insinuation that to be the doctor she has to act out their worst qualities when we can see them in her clearly without her doing so just to Prove she’s the doctor. She’s already angry and arrogant, it’s there in the show, it’s just… Angry outbursts aren’t good? And having the storyline framed around her snapping actively being scary and bad for both her and others is more where my head is at, I think i feel like this is where it’s going, for it to be a breaking down moment rather than framed as something liberating, i just don’t feel comfortable with the grandeur surrounding it potentially happening in a liberating fashion.

I mean, from a gendered perspective, women having to temper reasonable anger is bad and oppressive and i understand the bad optics of it and wanting it it happen for the very reason of avoiding that, but also? Men Not having to bother to temper violent angry outbursts is also an awful thing on the list of shitty things about patriarchy, but that doesn’t just mean everybody should be able to have angry violent outbursts, it means nobody should, it’s not about stooping, it means work on self improvement if you do do this and stop, not ‘hey everybody gets a free pass to be an explosive scary jerk’.

The discussion around this all often makes me uncomfortable in the ways we treat violence and anger. I’m not a fan of loud/cold/threatening outburst kinda people, real or fictional, which is probably why my favourite Who characters are almost never the doctor. But I Do recognise they’re finally making an effort these days, and I do recognise and appreciate it in 13 and it makes me like her a lot more than a number of the other doctors. They’ve reached a stage where they’re actually working on it, methods aside, i respect that I can see all of the doctor’s questionable qualities within her but i can also see some kind of attempt to actively work on them.  That is laudable.

I mean, ok, maybe Not the best story to go with after 12+ men and suddenly one woman, but it Did start with 12 and Capaldi whose presence bought age and wisdom to it, Whittaker is just following the thread, really. It also Probably wasn’t purposeful that it ended up like this??? Considering new management and writers etc etc, but i also very much feel like s11 was a groundwork season and even in that i can see the fascade slipping away episode by episode, in resolution she even tells them one of her deepest shames, at the time with little context, but if any of them think back on it, they’ll Understand.

(disclaimer: I don’t have anything against anybody who wants a snap (if written well, i would also enjoy it, i like angst), i just have an issue with our cultural relation to violence in certain circumstances and this narrative kind of creeps towards the idea that if you’ve had outbursts before that you can’t stop yourself the next time and I don’t like that as a message, i don’t dislike any of the doctors, i just like the companions Significantly more 90% of the time, and yes i would very much like to be able to show anger as a woman without being demeaned for it, but there is a difference between being looked down upon for being justifiably angry, and thinking it’s ok to let your anger take control of you and scare others. Also: Not all emotional labour is bad, i have to write this bc i’m publishing on tumblr so yeah. )

[scribblescrabblebabble]

RoyEd Week Day 4

Title: Seven(?) Days

Rating: T+

Relationships: Roy Mustang/ Edward Elric

Chapter: Day 4- Speakeasy AU (pt.1)

Cross- Posted on AO3 and Fanfic.net links- AO3     fanfic.net

Best quality reading will be through the links, not on Tumblr itself because I’m too lazy to do italics and shit right now. For @royedweek2019 ‘s RoyEd Week!

posting in 2 parts bc I didn’t finish it all in one day oop!

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

“So, what’s your spring special?”

           Roy turned sharply at the words, watching his hostess, Sheska confusedly stammer an apology as, “We don’t have a spring special, sir.”

Roy sighed and took it upon himself as the owner and manager of the restaurant to intervene, striding towards the skeevy-looking guy currently harassing the poor girl.

“We have no spring special, but I hear the florist next door has a lovely spring combination of petunias.” The man looked confused, before quickly realizing his mistake, and slunk away. As the door closed, Roy muttered a quick, “Good riddance!”

“Mr. Mustang? What was he on about?” Sheska asked.

Roy shook his head, “Just some loon; don’t pay him any mind. And like I’ve said, just Roy is fine. You’re doing a good job out here, keep it up!” With a pat on the back and the girl’s stuttered “Yes sir!”, Roy left the dining room and it’s many frivolously rich, entitled patrons draped in all the finest fashions of the season, in favor of the more casual ambiance in the kitchen.

As always, Maes (Roy’s chef and best friend) had one of his upbeat jazz records playing in the corner as he, Riza, and Jean efficiently cooked their patrons’ dinners to perfection. Roy sighed, leaning against the wait-station-table. Hughes looked over at him quickly whilst fancifully sautéing a plethora of vegetables in a large pan, “Spring Special again?”

“I am seriously going to murder the next bum who enters this building and dares to utter the word spring. It’s autumn! That flower shop’s got some shady-ass shit going on in it, I’m convinced.”

Riza shrugged, wiping her hands on her men’s slacks Roy insisted she wear to work to protect from kitchen burns, “I’ve met Alphonse, the owner. He’s a really sweet guy, and his wife’s a gem. Unless they’re great actors, I doubt it’s anything too malicious.” She picked up a large knife and began to cut up some meat awaiting seasoning by Havoc.

“But it does hurt us, having all these scummy characters come in with obvious illegal intent.” Jean pointed out.

Roy nodded in agreement. “I’ll check it out for myself tomorrow.”

The redhead plated his wares, sent them out with the young waitress Paninya, and took quick leave out the back for a smoke, trusting Riza to take over seasoning. Roy went with for a brief breath of fresh air. They stood at the back wall, a streetlight around the corner and Havoc’s lighter the only light sources. The distant murmur of their clients, Hughes’s muffled jazz, and the clangs of kitchen life were the only sounds prominent in this little corner of the block. Roy basked in the relative quiet. Apparently, Roy was too quiet, for Havoc asked, “What’s buggin’ you, Chief?”

Roy laughed dryly, “Just thinking.”

Jean looked sideways at him, “What about?”

“It’s ironic, you know? We left the military to not be serving the whims of bossy, elitist assholes, yet here we are.”

Jean laughed, “That’s life for ya! At least we’re alive, eh? Don’t have to kill anyone in fine dining.”

“Yeah, might want to sometimes, though.” Roy smirked, “It just seems s-“

Roy’s words stopped short at a crash in the alley a few meters away. Outside the flower shop’s backdoor a blonde carrying an unconscious man over his shoulder stood, breathing heavily and swearing under his breath at the poor guy atop him. He dropped his “load” rather unceremoniously on a full trash bag, not noticing the other two men in the small space staring at the scene, open-mouthed. Havoc had even let his cigarette fall from his lips to the dirty pavement at his feet.

The man was about to turn round to re-enter the back of the shop, supposedly intending to just leave his charge in the garbage, when he caught sight of the small glow of the cigarette, and realized that he wasn’t quite as alone as he’d expected to be. Roy and Havoc continued to stare at the other in shocked silence, whilst he froze up and stammered incoherently, eyes locked with Roy’s.

“D-don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine in the morning.” He got out, and Roy cocked an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“It’s none of your business, is it? Shove off.” The blonde made a quick retreat into the flower shop. Havoc and Roy turned to look at each other, and slowly backed away into the security of the restaurant. The door closed behind them, Havoc asked what was on both of their minds, “What the fuck is going on in that flower shop?!”

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

[Part 2 coming out tomorrow!!]

[buttercupsfrocks]

Hey, Tumblr, did you know that there’s an Interior Design Police as well as a Fashion Police?! Strangely neither did I until I stumbled upon a listicle entitled 75 Things No Woman Over 50 Should Own on the delusionarily titled bestlifeonline.com. There, along with the usual arbitrary selections of sartorial crimes against humanity, (tracky bottoms, skinny scarves, bolero jackets), were the following:-

Tapestries. (What, even if one designed and made them oneself, comme ça?)

Neon signs.

A piggy bank.

Novelty salt and pepper shakers, (Oops!)

A vinyl tablecloth. 

Novelty pillows. (Dang!)

A rolodex.

Indoor wicker furniture.

A lava lamp. (Who doesn’t love a lava lamp? Not this fully paid up B52s fan, I can assure you).

A dish of seashells.  (D’oh! Missed the memo again).

Framed autographs (yep, got one of those too).

Talk about random. And there’s more; much more. It appears I should have jettisoned my giant pin boards at least twenty years ago, along with my magnifying mirror, stuffed animals, coloured pens, fairy lights, frameless posters, cheap mismatched silverware, decorations based on cartoon characters, mismatched towels, striped wallpaper, tassels, and elaborate keychains. (They’d have a blue fit if they knew that one of my keychains has both a twiddly fake key and a tassel on it). In fact the entire website is little more than an endless litany of stuff you should feel ashamed about owning, wearing, and in some cases, even saying. Like I totes can’t say “totes” – me, a writer, who loves slang so much she has at least a bookshelf-and-a-half dedicated to it. I also can’t say: “OMG”,  “humblebrag”, “talk to the hand”, “fauxpology”, “sorry not sorry”, “I can’t even”, “as if”, “sus”, (a term in common UK parlance among people of all age groups for the duration of my lifetime), “ship”, (fuck you; Spuffy forever), and…wait for it…”adulting”, even though I plainly know a good deal more about doing it than the embarrassingly embarassable twelve year old ninny who probably wrote the article.

And still on the subjects of lists that give me the right royal pip, there’s thelist.com. 

“If you are familiar with Dr Martens, you are too old to wear them.” 

I’m sorry, what now?! 

“We know those Crocs and orthopaedic shoes are super comfy, but they're not doing you any favours. There's something to be said for smart, sensible footwear, but you don't have to sacrifice your style and give away your age just to save yourself a few blisters”.

Unless of course you suffer with any kind of condition that dictates you  have to wear fugly orthopaedic footwear, as numerous older people do. And blisters are the least of my problems, bub. Believe me the bunting and party hats come out when I can persuade anything approaching normal-looking footwear to accommodate my orthotics. Doc Martens are one of the precious few options available to me. I am, incidentally, feeling especially “salty” (another word my age precludes me from using), about this right now as, having discovered I can sometimes wear sandals with a moulded orthotic-like sole, these Office sandals... 

...which I genuinely love and desperately wanted to rock this summer, damn near crippled me when I tried them on. 

For all the blather about older women being able to cast off the shackles of convention and wear what we please, (or whatever the expert du jour thinks is within reason), the same unspoken assumptions that prevail in mainstream ladymedia are present in spades on these websites. Nobody reading could possibly be fat, or if they are they’re assumed to be fighting their poor beleaguered bodies unto death. The only chub ever alluded to, (albeit soto voce), is “middle aged spread”, but only the vestigial kind that can be miraculously rendered  invisible by the belting of an “unflattering” oversized garment in the middle. 

“Show off your curves by adding a cute belt to that dress or coat. It will accentuate your shape and let you still wear those comfortable items in your wardrobe without looking like you're wearing a muumuu.”

Never mind that I quite like wearing a muumuu, far from showing off my curves, belting any of my coats would make me look like the Albert Hall, which while undoubtably a Look, is not one I’m after.  

“Balance is important when it comes to crafting a stylish look. Wearing oversized clothing disrupts that delicate equilibrium and unintentionally ages you.”  

What. Ever. 

The hectoring never lets up. 

“There really is no such thing as grown up glitter when it comes to apparel, so it's best to accept that fact and avoid glittery tops, bottoms, and everything else!” 

“Dressing like the '80s or '90s can be fun for a party, but being attached to a trend from your youth can look tired and disconnected and therefore can make one age themselves.” 

“Large prints, especially on a tight clothing item like leggings, are an avoid-at-all-costs look. They are just too loud and aren't a piece that helps you look your best”

Among the ten items everyday.health.com bans me from wearing on account of my encroaching dotage are “too trendy denim”. Apparently I’m “not in my element” with it so my hard work was all for nought. Also verboten are oversized, overly decorated hobo bags, cheap unflattering underwear; (fat chance of finding cheap underwear in plus-sizes anyway though apparently I should do like the Sainted Gwyneth and wear Spanx under everything. Because she totally needs to and I so enjoy colic); and…wait for it…wait for it...  

...“loud accessories”. This includes, horror of horrors, plastic earrings, which apparently I forfeited the right to wear at 35. (Do they count vintage phenolic, bakelite, and lucite as plastic I wonder? Because if enough rich older women get dissuaded from wearing it I might actually be able to afford some instead of faking it). Instead I’m exhorted to make a... 

“Stunning Substitute: think quality and quantity. Limit yourself to one funky accessory per outfit – as long as it’s well-made. Think a leopard-print scarf, thin silver bangles or a gold clutch to dress up nice jeans and a simple top”. 

Yeah, no. And, by the way here’s a picture of Helen Mirren in quite the loudest plastic necklace I’ve ever seen which, as you can plainly see, ages her terribly. 

*snort*

Which brings me neatly to the subject of role models. Dame Helen comes up a lot. Here’s Harper’s Bazaar with some more:

“Pay close attention to the way women like Robin Wright, Julianne Moore, and Kristin Scott Thomas dress. And revel in the moment when you can justify shopping for labels like Céline, Calvin Klein, Jil Sander, and the Row — because not all sweaters are created equal. The Perfect Length (not too long, not Rihanna short), with the just-tantalizing-enough neckline, is more than worth the extra zeros”.  

Wow. So much nope to pick apart in just three sentences! 

Firstly, while I’m sure they’re all perfectly charming, I look nothing at all like any of these women, so why would I aspire to their style? Secondly, they have allllllll the extra zeros in their bank accounts while I have zero zeros. Thirdly, even if I could afford any of those labels, (a sweater from The Row costs well over a thousand quid by the way), why the love of little fluffy kittens would anyone think I want to dress like this?

I mean I know I like an oversized garment but I’m good with Monki, thanks. If that lot doesn’t say, “this was the only shit I could find to fit me”, I don’t know what does. And quite what the tiny, terminally haggard looking Olsen twins, who dreamed up the wretched label, would look like in any of this eye-bleedingly expensive folderol I shudder to think. You’d probably need to send in the fire brigade to find them in all that fabric, poor loves.

At its root shaming-as-entertainment is a tool for capitalism, both simple and complex. Feel mortified for owning something age inappropriate? Buy something new and more grown up, preferably at enormous expense. Or, if pay day’s too far off, invest in some garbage gossip rag and bitch about the state of those richer and more famous than you are. It’ll make you feel great for all of five minutes, then you can fill the emptiness that follows in its wake with some cheap fast fashion or cake. Even though cake is naughty and unclean and fast fashion is killing the environment; but hey that’s what diet books (kerching!) and gym memberships (kerching!) and ethical fashion, (with a cut-off size of 16), are for, right? 

Ironically, in yet another catalogue of grievous mistakes to make once you’re over forty, bestlifemyarse.com includes “neglecting your mental health” and “basing yourself-worth on what other people think”. But how the hell are women expected to do that under a constant barrage of opprobrium, not least since also included in the aforementioned list is “avoiding the scale”?

Tumblr, I put it to you that people are just as likely to buy stuff if they’re feeling good about themselves than if they’re feeling shite. I fucking love stuff but there has to be an alternative way to sell it that’s less damaging to our sanity and self esteem. That’s in part why fat women created their own media. But, the more it edges into the mainstream, the more it it puts the wind up advertisers and those who rely on their sponsorship. So now our message – the one about self acceptance and being able to live unrepentantly in the bodies we have – has been appropriated, de-fanged, and rebranded as “Body Positivity”, an ersatz movement intended to reassure average-sized women fretful they might be a little bit fat, with the added proviso, “as long as you’re healthy”, (i.e not fat). And while the net abounds with token examples of older lady bloggers granted the status of fashion maven, they’re all slender as reeds, and most of them are ex-models. Big fucking whoop. Meanwhile anyone of any age who is objectively fat is “promoting obesity” simply by expressing our personal style in public.

My collection of shells incidentally, includes some my mum brought me back from the Channel Islands when I was a child; a conch a friend dove for  in the Virgin Islands and presented me for my 19th birthday; several beauties that held pride of place in a late family friend’s study for decades; an abalone shell from New Zealand plucked from the beach by my Kiwi pal Di; a sand dollar from Ocean Beach in San Francisco given to me by my dear friend Jude who died of secondary breast cancer a few months before Jane did; some pebbles gathered with my friend Lesley in literal sub-zero temperatures on a completely deserted beach one not-so-flaming June up north, both of us in hysterics over the utter bleakness of it all, and a load more shells from the Pembrokeshire coast contributed by my friend Steve’s departed mum back in the 1980s. Even the bowl itself was given to me by Karen, whose parents found it in the attic of their new house and thought I might like it. It’s a veritable a lifetime in shells; a celebration of love and friendship spanning decades. In short it has meaning, which is a damned sight more than you can say for any of these wretched lists.

Rise above the buzzkill, Tumblr.

[bijoumikhawal]

Writers Room and Recasting Call for Five Years the Podcast

What is the podcast about?

Five Years is a teslapunk podcast chronicling the dramatic and sometimes ridiculous adventures of the misfit crew and passengers on the Lightning Struck following the Captain, Florence Baker, having an unfortunate run in with a witch, resulting in her, and her crew and passengers being cursed.

Writers

Writers Call ended August 7th.

Recasts

Info on Recasts:

• Why are you recasting?

Some actors are either too busy, were mainly selected because they were the only ones to audition for certain parts, do not truly reflect the racial, ethnic, or other backgrounds of various characters, or some combination of the above. At the time of casting I was inexperienced and young, and now want to be better in how I conduct my affairs when writing characters that aren't apart of my particular minority groups.

• What does that mean for me?

It means that I would greatly prefer it if white voice actors didn't audition for non white roles, and will not consider auditions of white VAs for non white roles, as well as cis actors for transgender or otherwise gender variant roles.

• You've had years to write this podcast, why isn't it up?

My computer broke last winter, meaning we couldn't really edit audio, and due to the school year, a lot of us became less involved in the podcast. Due to this I've spent a lot of time researching things for the podcast and reflecting on choices I made, quite a few of which were hasty and ill informed.

• why do the characters have linked Pinterest boards/playlists?

Just in case the audioneer wants to know a little more about the character and their personality/aesthetic

• will I get paid?

As of now, no. This may change in the future (we do have a Patreon that needs to be updated), but currently there is no pay.

• I don't match these characters exactly, what do I do?

Our main priorities are not casting white actors for nonwhite roles, and not casting cis people for trans roles. Were we a podcast with money on hand, we would be more specific with casting, but unfortunately, we aren't.

Characters being recast:

Bayzli Jancsi Lakatoš

Gender: cisgender male

Sexuality: biromantic and ace

A 17 year old Romani Jew that hails from Poland. Is working a 3 year contract under Captain Baker. He is neat and orderly, and while outgoing, is easily tired when dealing with people he doesn't like or know very well. He is known to notice things about others very quickly, and can remember minor comments people have made from years or months prior with near perfect clarity, is a tad self righteous, and does not back down from challenges or insults.

Voice: young, on the deeper side, has an almost calming quality to it, frequently described as fruity or honeyed, has a Polish accent

Pinterest board: https://pin.it/2l2wae56d4qtoz

Playlist:

https://open.spotify.com/user/scipiocipher/playlist/6XvOISz4hTcwXS1hAZnw80?si=moBQdoDRQOi_Vaz5CMlQLg

Sample voice lines:

"Oops... I really did not mean to do that, I swear. If you are mad about that, please do not kill me."

"Hey! What about that time you almost got our arms made into jerky?"

Keone Maata

Gender: mahulani (identifies closer with female than male, AMAB)

Sexuality: she doesn't know or care

A 16 year old Maori-Kanaka Maoli engineering prodigy from Washington DC. Working a contract, like Bayzli. She prefers to be alone, and spends almost as much time reading on new innovations as she does on making her own. She gets anxious in large crowds, and cannot stand the smell of chalk. She is highly enthusiastic and persistent when it comes to her personal projects, takes things too personally, and is easily embarrassed. She is mistrustful of others, spiteful, is noted for having a bizarre humor, and makes decisions based on how she feels more so than what others view as logical.

Voice: a bit raspy, husky, tenor range, has a classically dark voice- think old timey femme fatale actresses, but a bit deeper.

Pinterest board: https://pin.it/zz26psxwlvrkfz

Playlist:

https://open.spotify.com/user/scipiocipher/playlist/5UjD4QL9XqRFiG0r4SnzgL?si=jpoaEtXgRNmlAzdnRU_Wwg

Sample voice lines:

"ZHENYA, THERE’S A PANCAKE DRINKING MY BLOOD, GET IT OFF!"

"Yeah, but considering what I haven’t fixed yet it could have been soooo much worse. Now c’mon, I want this pancake off me."

Hannah Marilou Arrisen

Gender: aylonit (classically, a type of intersex recognized in Judaism, but she identifies with it as a gender)

Sexuality: pansexual

A 15 year old passenger on the Lightning Struck from Harlem. Very proudly black and Jewish. Pisses off everyone with her late night chemistry experiments involving fireworks and explosives. ADHD, bad at prioritizing and making decisions, frequently forgets what she's supposed to be doing, has an idealistic and upbeat worldview. Is notably dismissive of things she doesn't view as important, and is judgemental of those who get in her space. Can talk circles around most people, especially when aided by her brother.

Voice: high, clear, silvery. Commands attention.

Pinterest board: https://pin.it/dsrn2mwh3ut2ng

Playlist:

https://open.spotify.com/user/scipiocipher/playlist/6ihA2gacxY4VFdsrSwJtZz?si=B8hjsG17QwuCeX583NzOnQ

Sample voice lines:

"Did- did those pancakes just move?"

"Oh, yeah, that’s a brilliant plan, not like that might not work and go horribly wrong or anything."

Jans Antinous Arrisen

Gender: transgender male

Sexuality: gay

A 15 year old pen artist and, singer, and aspiring legal consultant from Harlem. Hannah's twin brother. Black and Jewish. Jans is fearless, vain, compulsive, disorganized, and easy to agitate. He is notably flamboyant, a lover of decadence, logical, confident, and quite charming. His sister has described him as "the personification of an eyebrow waggle and wink". He is intelligent and specializes in convincing or confusing people who he views as potential adversaries. He is anemic from long term radium exposure.

Voice: soft spoken, airy, and frequently sing song. Has issues breathing.

Pinterest board: https://pin.it/5bxal7wgytvztj

Playlist:

https://open.spotify.com/user/scipiocipher/playlist/06K25hyHTiSbn27B1al0Lr?si=SLIPjKEgRM2U4vYsHLMQrw

Sample voice lines:

"Technically, it's not on fire."

"We could- hear me out here- we could eat them."

Captain Florence Aria Baker

Gender: cisgender female

Sexuality: AroAce

A young black Muslim woman and former military captain. Capitain Baker was discharged after an accident where she lost her arm and most of her unit died. She refuses to speak about the incident, citing trauma, but the truth is much darker than the military would have you believe. She is passionate, no nonsense, hyper viligant, and at times controlling. She has come to hate the military, and is aggressively anti war. She is also notably charming, considerate, and future oriented.

Voice: on the deep side, like Hannah it commands attention

Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/scipiocipher/playlist/4tNguG2sdQrUhjo5m1be7U?si=t8qI4HWjSZ-LQ31nQqiYYA

Pinterest board: https://pin.it/3aefeepdql7hsu

Sample voice lines: "I said set a small fire! This is not small!"

"Okay. There’s a secret room on this ship. That’s... fine. Great."

Nadia Klara Pasternak (newly up for recast)

Gender: cis female

Sexuality: bisexual

Nadia is an 18 year old, and former gladiator. She has a love of reading and an extensive knowledge of interesting but useless words, and a very good knowledge of weaponry and various fighting styles. She grew up in the Aphrodite province on Mars, under the rule of Baron Semen. She is of Ukrainian-Mongol descent, and is autistic. She tends to avoid people she doesn't know, and often is quiet even around those she does know. She is compassionate towards those she views as misunderstood, and is patient and honest. She takes action quickly and enjoys working with others (hence why she often gets roped into the twins schemes), but is also skeptical and at times introverted. Like Jans, she is vain.

Voice: bubbly, has a soft Ukrainian accent. Doesn't sound like a girl who likes fighting.

Sample voice lines: "How about you lose!"

"Technically it is outwardly digesting you. Like a pineapple!"

What to include in your audition:

Name

Age (if comfortable with that)

Pronouns

Email address

Additional contact information ( Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, etc)

Which character(s) you’re auditioning for, and their audio

Previous experience, if applicable.

Submit your audition to either the Five Years Tumblr (fiveyearsthepodcast.tumblr.com) or email it to us at fiveyearsthepodcast@gmail.com

Recasting Call will end November 14th.

[writtenpresents-not-blog]

Crime

Title: Crime |Jake Murray x Reader|

Description: He was supposed to do time for killing someone but instead was let go and told to run. While running he bumped into you who, out of the kindness of their heart, decided to help him escape.

Warnings: Breaking the law, Talk about murder, Horrible writing skills on my part.

Authors Note: Jake Murray is played by Thomas Brodie-Sangster in the show “Accused”. It’s a rather interesting series in case you have never seen it. I honestly wasn’t sure if I would write this, but I thought might as well give it a go. This is part 1 or probably 2 I am going to say. Hope you enjoy.

Words: 1,205

Other: On Wattpad Tumblr Exclusive

"When do you think I'll be able to go home?"

"I don't know. It's hard to say since you were do for 12 years."

"Is [Y/n] really your name? Or are you just lying?"

"It's not a lie. And I assume your name being Jake isn't a lie either?"

"I wish I could have found a name to give you that wasn't my own, but no it isn't a lie." You'd been driving for hours getting as far away from the facility as possible to make it to where both of you could escape. You from aiding a criminal and him from spending 12 years in a jail cell. "Are you not scarred of me? I mean.. I.. I killed someone."

You glanced away from the road to look at him before looking back at the road and turning off the high way to a dirt road. "No. Not really." You reply slowing your speed just a bit looking around to make sure you weren't being followed by anyone. "You don't look like a killer. You look like a man who has made a massive mistake and regrets it more than anything. I doubt you'd try to kill me just for the hell of it." In all honestly judging people by the way they look was never a good quality of yours, most of the time you weren't exactly wrong but too close to it to be considered right.

What were you going to do though, turn back around and turn him in? No, it just wasn't a thing in your mind. What good would it do for you? None at all. Technically you're already aiding a criminal, and if that's the case then more likely if you take him in then they'll take you in as well and place you on trail. You've never been in one of those places before and who knows what all would really happen to you but you weren't about to risk what little you had just because someone wanted some kind of justice.

"Where... uh.. where are you taking me exactly?"

"We've been in this car for a long time and you choose now to ask that?" You asked turning to look at him before looking back at the road continuing down straight. You passed a large open field and took a turn to the left at one of the forks in the road. This road could get you lost faster than you could say 'Oops' but coming back and forth as often as you did you knew exactly which way to go and which roads went to the one you were looking. "We're going to my home. We are miles out side a city and extremely far from where they were taking you. They shouldn't look for you over this way if they think you were running on foot."

"Are you sure they didn't see you about hit me?"

"You were the one who ran into the traffic and jumped in front of my car. Not the other way around." You informed him somehow finding it amusing and smiling at the thought of the event. He literally hopped a fence and thought he could out run a car. He was a few miles away from where the inmates were kept by the time he attempted that. "Besides, on that stretch of road you did your little stunt there aren't any cameras, so unless you had them trailing you the whole time I doubt anyone other than those drivers really saw anything. So chances are slim."

"They wouldn't use you plates to find this home of yours?"

"Well, my plates aren't really registered to this home I'm in. And technically this home isn't mine anyway. So if they did do that, they'd not get very far. If anything they'd hit a dead end."

"What does that mean?" he asked adjusting in his seat. You glance towards him before looking forward again.

"Oh come on Jake, you aren't becoming afraid of me now are you?" You shake your head and sigh. "The place is abandoned and somewhere in the woods that you will run into down this road. Unless someone has been there before or you just happened to stumble on it, no one would ever find it. That's the best spot to lay low."

"How do you know it was abandoned?"

"Well when I got there about, I'd say maybe 5 months ago, there wasn't any electricity, food, water, or anything of the sort. There weren't any clothes, or any sign of anything moved since everything was covered in a lot of dust. So that's how I know it is abandoned." You slowed your speed down tremendously after hitting the woods on a small high way. No one ever used this road, unless they were truck drivers and even then this road was normally abandoned as well. Counting a few marks you make a turn and pass between a few trees. "It's just a little farther and then we can get out and stretch our legs. M'kay?"

"Sure." He whispered eyeing the scenery carefully. After being on the bumpy trail you were on for a few more minutes a house became visible. A smile appeared on your face as you turned the car next to the house before shutting it off.

"And here we are. Home sweet home." You opened your door before getting out and then watched as he did the same. Opening the trunk you pull out two paper bags and walk to the door. "Well come on. You don't want to freeze out here do you?" His eyes looked at yours before looking around the area and then walking to follow you. It would be a lie if you said that it wasn't strange bringing someone else in, but it at the same time seemed nice to have some company. Passing him a bag to hold onto you opened the door with a key. You picked the lock of the first set of knobs this house had and with some money you had found you went and bought some new ones. Hence the fact you now had a key for it.

"How did you find this place?" He asked following you. You had made you way to the kitchen and placed the bag you had on the counter before taking the one you'd given him and placed it on the counter as well.

"I was driving around these parts and my car broke down just on the other side of the road. I walked up the way we drove and stumbled upon this place." You said simply trying to make it as short as possible not really wanting to get into details.

Passing him you went and opened the door leaving him inside only to come back seconds with wood in your hands. Shutting the door with your foot you walk towards the small fire place the home had and placed the wood in front of it. "It's going to be a cold night. And probably a long one at that." you informed him noticing him in the door way of the kitchen. "But I promise no one will get to you and I won't harm you in any way. You are safe here."

[fleur]

detailed blogrates ✨

i need a distraction and i did these a couple months back + it was fun sooo 💕✨

must be following me!

maybe check out some of my edits or my bmac?

must reblog this post (likes don’t count sorry!)

send me a 🐝 (or just ‘br’) and tell me something you have planned for the weekend!

format under the cut  - blacklist maliasbr or br!

once i've closed them i won’t respond to any sent in after

credit to @njmphadora for the template! (again oOps)

B A S I C url - dgi sorry | not from my fandoms | could be better | pretty cool | really like it | absolutely incredible! domain - don’t have one | dgi sorry | not from my fandoms | could be better | pretty cool | really like it | absolutely incredible! icon - could be better | don’t recognise it | poor quality | pretty cute! | omg awesome | tempted to steal it T H E M E desktop theme - basic tumblr theme | not my style | could be better | kinda pretty | gorgeous | i wanna steal colour scheme - not my taste | pretty | gorgeous | my fav colours! updates tab - don’t have one | i think something’s not right | bit basic | lovely | absolutely perfect nav page - don’t have one | i think something’s not right | incomplete | bit basic | lovely | absolutely perfect about page - don’t have one | i think something’s not right | incomplete | bit basic | lovely | absolutely perfect mobile header - nonexistent | i don’t get it | not my fandom | bit blurry | alright | lovely | absolutely gorgeous mobile colours - kills my eyes | don’t match | looks nice | urgh aes af P O S T S reblogs - urm nonexistant ?? | kinda random | not my fandom | pretty good | wonderful | incredible! aesthetic - inconsistent | eye pleasing | absolutely perfect original edits - you don’t have any | not my fandom | great start | not bad | lovely | so original | gorgeous | omg i’m jelly af of your skills personal - nonexistant/can’t see | not enough | too many | you seem sweet | omg you make me laugh so much activities [e.g. botm / awards / rates etc] - nonexistant/can’t see | not enough | good | wonderful | such original ideas O V E R A L L overall - meh | pretty nice | lovely | incredible following - no sorry | not my fandoms | now | how was i not before?! | yes ofc | you’re one of my fav blogs

compliment/advice:

[reddeadredemptiontrash]

You're right, it's cringey. But it's okay because I think the huge difference between whether it's sad cringey or funny cringey is the age. Like it was 3 years ago. If 3 years ago he was 16 then that's funny, he was just a dumb kid and said something silly he probably regrets. But if 3 years ago makes him 32 then you're like nah man, I'll pass. You said you regret things from when you were a young teen too so I'm guessing he was around 15 at the time which is hilarious.

He was actually around 18 lmao! He’s a couple years older than me. Which, I’ve always considered myself more mature, but I had my moments at like 14/15.

I think it’s more funny cringey, and I think he’d probably agree. (Whether he ever will find out that I’ve found this YouTube channel... hmm. Maybe someday.)

I can’t say too much. I have a video on YouTube on my mom’s old YouTube account of me singing “The Climb” by Miley Cyrus when I was about 10/11 for an audition I had and my GOD is it bad. I couldn’t sing for crap and the quality and sound is just trash, adding onto it. The sad thing is mine is a lot easier to find if you know my full name, as his is something him and his friends created that’s a little weird but it’s one of those funny YouTube group usernames, you know?

If we were on really good terms right now like we were, and if he wouldn’t kill me for finding them, I might ask him about them, but like I said. Maybe someday, later on in time. I could tease him (jokingly of course) because as much as “country boys” make me cringe, he was cute then and he is now. Oops.

Luckily I didn’t take a lot of photos in my super cringey years but have a fun “14 year old me trying to be emo like the popular emo tumblr girls”