#but for now have this eye open of a child wielding power and becoming disconnected from reality and not held accountable for anything

[grimulf-of-the-wilderness]

A L I C E

your days are numbered.

---> source [Read Here]

Dadaupa Gorge

The three hilichurl tribes Meaty tribe, the Sleeper tribe, and the Eclipse tribe located in this valley are all densely populated. What if we built a huge spinning ball-shaped cell in the center of the valley and threw all of the hilichurls into it? That way we might be able to generate enough energy to power all the mills in Mondstadt for at least five years. If we took it one step further by grinding the hilichurls that are too old or too weak into food and feeding them to the strong ones, we might just build ourselves a perpetual motion machine that can support a huge factory like in Snezhnaya! It seems totally feasible to me. But when I told Miss Lisa about this idea, she just looked at me and pondered in silence for a long time, then changed the subject gracefully.

Windrise

At the center there is a huge oak tree. It is said that Vennessa ascended there. I searched around the tree for a long time but did not find any launching device. I grabbed some hilichurls nearby to put my theory to the test. Sadly, the longest flying distance was from here to the hunters' huts around Springvale. How disappointing.

Brightcrown Canyon

I finally got rid of that stalker from the Knights of Favonius. This valley I found at the northwest coast of Cider Lake is still guarded by ancient mechanisms, but the soldiers responsible for holding the pass for the King of Gales were nowhere to be found now. All the winds of time had left behind were the unintelligent hilichurls and silent mechanical guards.[Note 1] My attempt to control Ruin Guards with hilichurls failed as well. The guard split into pieces, and as for the fate of the hilichurl strapped onto it... I will spare you the gory details. Half of the ruins were also destroyed in the process.

[frozenartscapes]

Wilhelm + Rhea - I’m pregnant.

Something was wrong, Seiros was sure of it. She staggered back to her cot after running a cool, damp cloth over her face, and flopped down with little grace. She groaned as she clutched her abdomen, praying to the Goddess that the world would stop spinning so much.

Someone must have poisoned her. Or rather, is poisoning her because this is the fifth day in a row she’s woken up like this.

“Seiros!” A singsong voice floated through the opening of her tent, all bright and chipper.

“Come in,” Seiros managed to call out, gulping as she felt her stomach heave again.

It was Rowena, which was probably good considering her current situation. How Cichol had ever managed to find, woo, marry, and have a child with such a woman so…different from himself had always been a mystery. But it was times like these that Seiros was thankful she was around.

Rowena frowned when she spotted her companion curled up on her cot. “Another rough morning?” she asked, producing some herbs from her bag and setting them down on the desk. She pushed aside some of the war maps and got to work making a nausea remedy.

“We really must…find whoever’s...responsible for this,” Seiros grumbled.

Rowena brought over the concoction and wordlessly handed it over. As Seiros brought it to her mouth, she caught her friend’s knowing, and worryingly smug grin. She gulped anxiously and asked, “What?”

“I think I know who’s responsible,” Rowena teased, “You might want to have a word with Wilhelm.”

“Why would he be poisoning me?”

“Poisoning?” Rowena’s gleeful laugh filled the tent, though Seiros was still at a loss as to why, “Oh my dear, please tell me all this war planning and scheming hasn’t clouded your head that much!”

“I…I don’t understand…”

Rowena reached out and took Seiros’ hands in hers, and gently pulled her up into a sitting position. “Seiros, my dear,” she said softly, breathlessly happy for her friend, “You’re pregnant.”

“…I’m…what?”

Rowena chuckled. “Don’t worry. That news always takes a moment to sink in.”

“I’m what?”

“Expecting, Sweetie.”

“But… I…I can’t be pregnant!” Seiros cried, “We’re fighting a war! I’m leading the war! A…and Wilhelm and I… I mean… We did, but he’s human and I’m…not…” She gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth as it finally, finally hit. “Oh Goddess I’m pregnant.”

“I don’t think you have much to worry about,” Rowena assured her, “It isn’t unheard of for our kind to have children with humans. And it’s not like you’ll be in this alone. I’ll be here, and so will the others. And of course there’s Wilhelm.”

“Oh Goddess…Wilhelm!” Seiros exclaimed, “I…I have to tell him!”

“Knowing Wilhelm I imagine he’ll be rather excited, too,” Rowena added.

“But what about the others?” Seiros demanded, “Cichol and Indech I’m not too worried about, but Macuil will be furious, I know it.”

“Oh don’t you worry about that old windbag,” Rowena sighed, “If he gives you any problems, send him to me.” She suddenly clapped her hands together, bouncing a little in excitement. “Oh little Ceth will finally have someone she can play with!”

“I’m pregnant,” Seiros murmured, suddenly feeling nauseous for a different reason. This was something completely out of her wheelhouse. She could lead an army. She could wield a sword. She could kick anyone’s ass with just her fists if she had to.

She could not picture herself as a mother.

She sighed heavily and buried her face in her hands, trying not to think too deeply about how this was going to affect her war against Nemesis.

“Oh Wilhelm! What perfect timing!” Rowena greeted cheerfully.

“Very funny, Wena,” Seiros groaned.

“Oh! I’m…sorry… Is this a bad time?”

Her head snapped up in an instant. “Wilhelm! No, it’s… Actually Rowena’s right: it’s perfect timing,” she said quickly.

“I’ll…give you two some privacy,” Rowena said, making her way to the door of the tent. She slipped out quickly, but Seiros could tell by the shadow cast against the canvas walls that Rowena’s definition of “privacy” was a tad skewed.

“Is everything alright my Love?” Wilhelm asked, a look of concern marring his gentle face, “Have you been sick again?”

Seiros was momentarily lost in his warm hazel eyes, but she shook her head briskly to bring herself back. “I…yes, I have,” she admitted, “And Rowena believes she’s found out the reason why.”

“It’s not poison, is it? I swear on my life I’ll find the bastard that’s been doing this to you and—“

“It’s not…poison, Wilhelm,” Seiros cut in with a wince. She patted the space on the cot next to her, and Wilhelm readily sat down beside her. She worked her hands into his, and gave a small squeeze. “My Light,” she breathed, “I’m pregnant.”

There was a pause, as the information sunk in. Then a brilliant smile - as bright as the sun itself - worked its way onto Wilhelm’s face. “You are?” he gasped, laughing with joy. He leapt up from his seat, dragging her along with him. He twirled around the tent with her in his arms, before slowing to pull her into a tight hug. “That’s wonderful, my Love!” he sighed.

Then he stopped, pulling away while still holding tight to her arms. “That…is wonderful, right? I… If you’re not… What I mean is, I know you’ve got your own—"

She put a finger on his lips, a common action of hers whenever the excitable man began to ramble. “It…it is wonderful,” she assured him, “I just…never thought it would happen to me.”

He chuckled. “I have to admit, knowing you can I believe that,” he said, tucking a lock of her emerald hair behind a pointed ear. She cast him a playful glare and he smiled innocently in response. “But…” he continued, “Wouldn’t this mean that… Well, we’ll be a family. You, me, and the little brawler waiting to come out.”

She snorted at the thought. “I should hope the child decides to become a brawler after they are born, my Light,” she stated. But then her mood sobered, as the rest of his statement was realized. “A…family…”

He frowned when he saw her eyes beginning to glaze over. “If it’s too soon, my Love, I…”

“No. No, it’s…” Tears began to form in her eyes, and slowly a large smile spread across her face. She could barely contain her joy as she uttered, “I’ll have a family again.”

— — —  

She held the bundle close to her chest, still exhausted and sore. But a tiny hand had a tight hold of her finger, and wide, green eyes stared up at her. The child in her arms giggled, then, and tightened his grip.

“He’s incredible,” Wilhelm breathed as he watched over her shoulder, “So…small. But incredible.”

“He’ll grow to be a great Emperor someday,” Seiros sighed, looking up to meet the gaze of the newly-crowned Emperor of Adrestia.

“Hopefully he’ll know more of what he’s doing,” Wilhelm stated anxiously.

Seiros reached for her Light’s hand. “He’ll have an excellent role model,” she assured him gently.

In her arms, little Lycaon reached for his Papa and smiled.

— — —  

AN: Ok, hear me out... This is my take on Rhea and Wilhelm. We don’t really know a whole lot and the stuff we do know comes from fairly shaky sources. We know Rhea - then Seiros - had some kind of relationship with Wilhelm but we don’t know the extent. We also know Wilhelm had a son, but we don’t know with who.

So what if Rhea is the matriarch of the Hresvelg legacy?

I’m going to expand on this more later, but for now I wanted to first, answer this prompt, and second, cover something I probably wasn’t going to cover in my longer fic.

So here are my headcanons that appear here and will likely pop up later:

Rhea and Wilhelm genuinely loved each other. They met when Rhea was in a dark place, having lost her family and unsure of where to turn next. Wilhelm was a kindhearted farmer who wanted to help her out, saved her life from some of Nemesis’ men by sacrificing himself, and was then saved by her in turn when she gave him her Crest in the healing process. From there, their relationship blossomed. Rhea calls him her “Light” because he brought light and warmth back into her life when she thought it was all gone (much like how El views Byleth...hmm, symbolism...)

Rhea tells Wilhelm that Nemesis destroyed her family, but doesn’t go into details. He respects her enough to not push for more answers, though he is curious. He always hopes that one day she’ll trust him enough to open up.

The other Saints join the fight against Nemesis at Rhea’s insistence, but they stay for Wilhelm. He’s a charismatic guy, a hell of a warrior, and a kindhearted man, and he wins over Cichol and Indech with little effort. Macuil, however, never trusts him and acts like the scary big brother protecting his little sister (Seiros).

Rowena is my take on Seteth’s wife/Flayn’s mother. I picture her as a Nabatean, just not one of the powerful saints. (I always kinda pictured it like a hierarchy of Sothis first, then the Children of the Goddess/Saints, then lesser Nabateans forming the bulk of the community.) Like Flayn, she’s mostly a healer and has a bubbly personality. She brings out the fun and happiness in Seteth, and after her death he struggles to feel such things again. Her loss was heavily felt by all, due to how friendly she was with everyone.

The reason Edelgard doesn’t look more like Rhea/only has a minor Crest of Seiros, etc. is due to the fact that it’s been centuries since Rhea gave birth to Lycaon. The Nabatean traits eventually fade, as Rhea is the only Nabatean to ever continue the line in the Hresvelg family. Crest-strength and other traits shared by Nabateans eventually faded as more human genetics were added in. (This is also why I HC Flayn as having two Nabatean parents rather than just one.)

Rhea, having lost Wilhelm in the war and then watching her son grow old while she stayed young, disconnects from those types of relationships once the heartbreak becomes too much. In her altered history, she makes sure Lycaon’s mother is listed as unknown, and eventually the number of people who did know becomes only her close, remaining family. And she swears them to secrecy. Eventually, the connection she and the Church have with the Hresvelg family shifts and breaks, and it eventually becomes unimportant that the Imperial family literally wouldn’t have existed without her.

Perhaps that was a dumb decision, along with some of the other dumb decisions she made back then, but I also headcanon that Nabateans age very slowly. So while she was probably around 100+ years old by then, for a seemingly immortal being who appears to be in her 30s? 40s? nearly 1100 years later, her emotional age by that point would have been maybe late teenager? Early twenties? Around the same emotional age that Edelgard was when she decided that there would be no potential flaws in her Flame Emperor stunt. That’s not to diss either of them - it’s just that they were young, and dealing with emotional shit far too heavy for any one person to deal with. So Rhea’s choices back around year 90 through to year 100 should probably be taken with a grain of salt.

All those centuries don’t make it any easier, though, when Edelgard declares war on her ancestor unknowingly, and through all the anger and betrayal Rhea feels she can see the same passion and fire in the girl that Wilhelm once had.

[rambling-at-midnight]

See You Later (Or Not)

Pairing: Five x Reader

Request: HII could i request a five x reader thing where the reader is a robin hood kinda “villain” she’s cocky and charming. and it annoys five but at the same time he’s like “damn” IDK i just want some love/hate thing with a villain reader :))

The first time Five meets another one of the special children, apart from his siblings, is when he’s twenty-three years old. This is, of course, a surprise to him. He’s heard about one girl in India who’s been able to heal fatal wounds; she’s gained coverage quite like the Academy had had in its prime. And he has heard rumors about someone in Canada that can move faster than light. But since there are only 43—probably less, Five supposes, and it’s definitely at the most 42 now that Ben’s dead—they’re all spread out all over the world, some probably in places where they’re unable to be heard of or even hear of the Umbrella Academy, thus possibly, a handful of the 43 might not even know they’re superpowered.

But since the Umbrella Academy was so popular, Five is reasonably certain that every child with access to the internet and born on October 1, 1989 has tested themself vigorously for traces of superpowers. It’s why superpowered villains are not common, per se, but not exactly unheard of either.

He’s staring one in the face right now, for the first time in his life, and also for the first time in his life Five is fairly sure he is not going to win this fight.

The pressure for the Umbrella Academy to reform is great, as only Five and Luther remain out of the seven original children. Anyone that knows Five, really, wouldn’t have expected him to stay. They’d expect him to go off traveling the world, or becoming a scientist, or being a professor at a college (or jumping into the future for half a century), but Five’s not an idiot. The world needs the Academy, whether the Academy be just him or all of them. It would be better if it was all of them; he has no idea how to beat you.

Besides, most all other people are idiots. Reginald Hargreeves may be an ass, and he may still think of the children as less than him, but he’s not an idiot, and Five doesn’t need to prove anything to him. Reginald just assumes that the children can and will do something. They never impress him; most of the time they disappoint him, but it’s better than the scrutinizing gazes of people as Five’s not-normal siblings try to pretend that they are. They’ll never truly fit in, so why should they try? Why not do what they’ve always done? It keeps the press mostly off Five’s back, unless he’s done something extraordinary, unlike how Allison never gets a moment’s peace and people only ever want to talk with Diego about his past instead of his present.

No, if Five went to school he’d chafe under the strict rules meant for idiots, and the teachers that are also idiots, and everything, and if he became a scientist he’d have to prove his findings instead of just showing them off, even if they are right. And if Five became a professor, he’d have to teach idiots, and he’d be the least-liked professor on campus.

It’s better to know that you are capable instead of shoving it in people’s faces; it creates less resentment, and it also isn’t as annoying.

This isn’t the first time Five’s ever heard of you—nobody really knows who you are, but your superhero name is ‘The Ghost’.  He’s read a lot about you. He doesn’t know your motivations, what your past is, what you do with the things you steal, nothing. You’re under suspicion of over two dozen murders, but it’s only speculation, really, that you committed them. You’re unknown completely, unlike

“Five Hargreeves,” you drawl. Your hair is pulled into a ponytail, your face covered with a mask. You’re wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. If it wasn’t for the fact that the outfit is all black, and you’re wearing a mask, you could be a regular college student out for a stroll. In the house of a very famous, very controversial politician. Honestly, Five shouldn’t be here either. The man is a scumbag and really deserves everything that’s coming to him. Five defending him could damage the Academy’s reputation, not to mention his personal one. Besides, he just doesn’t really feel like defending the man.

Still, whatever you’re planning on doing, it can’t be good. And despite the man’s faults, Five can’t let you kill him. That would also put a damper on his reputation—damn, there really isn’t a win for him in this situation, is there?

Hoping to take you by surprise, Five teleports to where you are, but faster than he can blink you disappear from his vision. Thank goodness Five can think quick on his feet; he teleports over to the kitchen and grabs a handful of cutlery before freezing, trying to hold his panting breaths in so he can try to hear your feet on the floor. He can barely make out a shuffling sound and he tries to pinpoint it. After a second of frustration, he chucks a silver spoon in that direction. It bounces off an invisible force by the unlit stove and Five’s eyes narrow.

He jumps, but you must have let the spoon hit you deliberately. He’s met with a cast-iron pot swung directly at his face and he goes down faster than a stack of cards (but, unbeknownst to you, the only thing he’s going to complain about later is the terribly sore purple-green bruise on his jaw).

Panting, you make yourself visible again and rub your shoulder, wincing. You think you strained it by swinging that heavy pot.

“I need to start going back to the gym,” you mutter, stepping over the superhero and walking over to where Senator Hasselhoff is cowering behind a coach, taking your gun out of your waistband as you go. “All right, Senator. Let’s see what you’ve got on your computer.”

SENATOR LAPTOP SCANDAL CALLS FOR IMMEDIATE RESIGNATION OF OFFICE AFTER ARREST

After Senator Hasselhoff, in some twisted mistake, accidentally posted the entire contents of his laptop to every social media platform he has, there has been an immediate public outcry for resignation from his post. The senator is currently in jail awaiting trial after multiple suspicious and incriminating files were spotted amid the tax information, Viagra shipping orders, and plane tickets. Authorities were immediately involved concerning the videos of underaged children performing sexual acts on his laptop, as well as documents concerning bribes the senator has both accepted and sent out. One such bribe concerns the secrecy from a woman the senator apparently had an affair with…

Five snorts as he sets down the newspaper. You’ve got style, he’ll certainly give you that. And he’s not even fussed about losing the fight; who wants to protect a man like that, even if Reginald had told Five to? Sure, maybe Five would have preferred you using your words instead of instantly jumping on the attack and knocking him out cold, which was humiliating, especially when Diego found out from Luther and hassled him about it for two hours straight, but he supposes his reputation might have had something to do with your approach. He’s not exactly the cuddliest person around.

Reginald hasn’t said a word to Five since he’d woken up in the medical room with his adopted father’s face and his mother’s looming over him. Reginald had sniffed and walked straight out of the room the second Five’s eyes opened.

Five’s not quite sure what Reginald feels. Maybe he’s disappointed Five failed, maybe he knows (even though Five doesn’t want to admit it) that he gave up the fight embarrassingly quickly, or maybe he’s disappointed that the senator wasn’t able to pay him the large sum of money for Five’s protection, both because Five had done a piss-poor job of protecting him, and also because the FBI has frozen the senator’s accounts.

Either way, Five’s not fussed. His pride is a little bit bruised from his siblings’ haggling, but his jaw is a lot bit bruised, and to top it all off, he’s really confused about you. Sure, he knows that everyone has layers and blah blah blah about some people doing ‘right thing, wrong way’ or however the saying goes.

But he’s looked closer into every crime you’ve ever been suspected of or connected to, and if he even scratches the surface it turns into a sort of… Robin Hood scheme. All you ever do is attack rich scumbags, and more than often the poor somehow benefit, even if no one has been able to clearly draw a line between the two. Mostly because most everyone is an idiot, and Five is not.

But still.

It’s the confusion that makes the first thing Five says to you a compliment.

Five had been walking down the back alley shortcut he always takes to Griddy’s. A particularly strong gust of wind had pushed him slightly, his hands falling out of his pockets to brace himself against the brick wall.

Just then you’d appeared in front of him out of nowhere, hands on your hips. This time your hair hangs around your face, buffeted by the wind, but the rest of your outfit is the same. Five’s body tenses up with the familiar fight-or-flight feeling, his brain screaming at him to Get her! Jump now! She’s a villain! but for some reason he hesitates. He can’t explain why. Maybe it’s the way you’re helping people, in your own way, or maybe it’s how you’re also a person with superpowers and Five knows how, even though the powers can be liberating, they’re also a chain, and he can’t talk about stuff like that with his siblings.

Or maybe his powers are just chains because of Reginald. You were never forced into using your powers; you use them of your own volition.

“Nice work with the Senator,” Five hears his voice say, and he feels his lips move, but they feel disconnected from his brain. “You gonna hit me with a frying pan again? It’s a pretty unusual weapon, but hey, to each his own, right?”

Your face is inscrutable behind the mask, but your voice is most certainly not. Five can hear the playful tone as you reply, “I like to think I’m a trendsetter. Next thing you know every villain you fight will be wielding a pan. I imagine your jaw won’t like that very much, will it?”

Five hadn’t noticed in the heat of the moment, but you’re a girl. And you’re his age (well duh, his brain intones, she’s one of the 43 children, dumbass).

Five isn’t misogynistic; he considers Allison more capable than Luther and Diego put together, and he has a deep respect for Vanya after all the years with the rest of them, supposed to be special but instead achingly normal. He respects women, probably more than men, even, because of how much of a dumbass all his brothers are, and how shitty most men are.

Still, the fact that your voice is high and sweet and somehow vulnerable as you try to be cocky and intimidating makes him feel guilty for trying to hurt you, and it ignites a feeling in his chest that he doesn’t like.

He can’t help but imagine what you look like underneath the mask.

“You’re like a modern-day Robin Hood,” Five blurts out, surprisingly ineloquent despite the fact that he doesn’t know you, you’re a threat, and he should be knocking you down right now. He shouldn’t be… trying to make polite conversation. He shouldn’t be itching to tie your hair back so it doesn’t obstruct your vision.

“If the shoe fits,” you respond, cocking your head at him. Five wishes he could see your face, if only to understand what you’re thinking.

“What do you want?”

“It varies from moment to moment.” You take a step closer and Five should tense up, should strike out, but he can’t. The wind is blowing in his direction and the faint smell of mint shampoo fills his nose, making his brain all fuzzy. At the same time, the riddles you’re speaking in annoy him.

“Well, what do you want right now?” he snaps. Are you just wasting his time or trying to be annoying?

“I wanted to talk.” You cock your head as Five snorts. That’s got to be the lamest lie he’s ever heard. “Sorry. I’ll see you later, I guess. You won’t see me, though!”

Before Five can say anything else, you turn away and turn invisible. He’s simply too tired to chase after you.

Five turns away to continue to Griddy’s. He slouches his shoulders and shoves his hands in his pockets to protect them from the wind, feeling instinctively for his wallet, but it’s not there.

Five pieces it together quickly; the ‘strong gust of wind’ hadn’t been wind at all.

“Damn it, Ghost!”

[growingpaynes-art]

Far From Home Initial Review: What I Liked and What I Didn’t (Spoilers)

I saw Far From Home yesterday and jotted down some of my immediate responses, and then took some time to think on those points. I do intend to see the film again in the next few days and I may be adding to or amending this list.

Major spoilers below.

(CW: sexual harassment, victim blaming)

What I Liked:

That scene in the jet where Happy stitches Peter up was A+. Not just regarding the expert acting, but how the filmmakers decided to handle the scene. Peter’s fear, stress, and self doubt briefly shifts to anger, and he snaps at Happy for telling him to “relax.” He immediately apologizes, saying “i’m sorry, I shouldn't shout.” Happy in return responds by choosing his words more carefully. Happy then gives him a gentle and encouraging pep talk in which he recognizes Peter’s emotions, encourages him, and explains that he doesn’t need to live up to the legacy of Iron Man and that he only needs to do his best. He remains on task and pragmatic, but never rushes Peter or forces him to do anything he’s not comfortable doing, offering support all the while. 

Peter is allowed to cry at several points throughout the film in front of other male characters, including Nick Fury and Happy. He is never judged for this and he is never made to feel like his emotions are unreasonable or invalid. Continuing this from the previous films even as Peter gets older and takes on more responsibilities further normalizes male emotion in action films. 

Peter consistently voices his concerns and asks for help instead of overwhelming himself and internalizing.

Peter was noticeably shorter than MJ in most of their scenes together, including where they kiss or hold hands. Peter’s height is never made into the butt of a joke, which I had feared might happen. No one even mentions it. Marvel did have Tom wear shoes that made him a little taller than he actually is, but I do appreciate that they didn’t drastically increase his height like they always did to RDJ. 

JK Simmons returning as J Jonah Jameson was a great surprise, and it gives me hope that we may yet see Peter as a photographer

Peter walking out from behind that car carrying a sign and a light as a reference to Steve wielding the shield and mjolnir.

Peter calling his dick his “webshooter”

MJ stepping in and providing some real help several times throughout the movie 

The movies on the flight to Venice “Heart of Iron: The Tony Stark Story,” “Chasing Hydra” etc

The terribly edited movie maker tribute set to “I Will Always Love You” with “in memoriam” in comic sans was the funniest possible way to open the film

Bucky being included in the Thank You Avengers collage in the Midtown Tech news video

Mr. Harrington and Mr. Dell were definitely dating and i’m here for it. 

Seeing Peter fight without a suit was cool. I’ve always thought there was a kind of disconnect when characters like spiderman or black panther fight with their masks on, like they feel separate from the actors. But seeing Peter fight in his civilian clothing made it feel more real to me that this kid really has these powers and can do all these amazing flips and feats of strength. It also let us see more of his creativity and quick thinking.

I’m impressed that they were able to make Mysterio’s mo-cap suit look cool instead of completely ridiculous like they do in real life.

Peter closing his eyes and fighting the drones with his spidey-sense to avoid the illusions was so badass. 

The violence felt real. Every time Peter got hit, the audience felt it. Several times he was unable to stand up, he limped and winced and cried. It felt like the consequences of such heavy action were realistically considered when Peter couldn’t just pop back up and shake it off. 

"If you were better, maybe Tony would still be alive” “You’re just a scared little kid in a sweatsuit” 

“You got me?” “I got you.”

“lets get a drink” “i’m- i’m not 21.”

Peter going to a parent figure wearing an oversized shirt and crying while confessing his self-doubts was an oddly specific parallel that i didn’t expect to get again but i’m certainly not complaining

What I Didn’t:

The “rest stop hookup” scene was deeply inappropriate. Peter, a child, is commanded to undress in front of an adult female agent. He initially resists but is intimidated into compliance when she repeats the order. One of Peter’s classmates, Brad, walks into the room and Peter is literally caught with his pants around his ankles with an adult stranger. Brad makes the assumption that Peter is hooking up with her, and takes a photo for evidence with the intention of showing it to MJ in order to ruin Peter’s “chance” with her. Peter is blamed for a situation in which he is the victim, and the audience is meant to find this entire scene funny. Instead of what could have been a really cool scene in which this agent presents the new suit she’s made for Peter, we are given this very uncomfortable scene of sexual harassment played for laughs.

Peter and Brad competing for MJ’s affection and actively sabotaging each other is unnecessary. 

The use of old footage from previous films was lazy, especially when Marvel could have easily recreated those scenes from the perspectives of the new antagonists. I’ve always found this distracting, especially when the quality noticeably drops between two clips, though this is more of a personal peeve than anything I see as a legitimate problem.

The list of characters who become villains because they feel personally or indirectly slighted by Tony and Howard is getting too big. Honestly I think it’s lazy to keep using that as backstory/motivation for new villains after over 10 years, especially now that Tony isn’t even alive.

The multiverse being made up by Beck was disappointing.

The monsters being the Elementals instead of Sandman or Hydroman was also disappointing.

I wish that the spidey-sense was represented by some creative audio or visual cue, like the goosebumps in iw or the ringing noise in spiderverse

There were several lgbt characters/actors on the class trip but they weren’t very visible. You really don’t notice them at all unless you were aware of who was cast beforehand and were watching closely for them. I’m not asking for Peter to swing through new york with a rainbow flag screaming “trans rights” but I would have liked to have seen a queer couple holding hands or a student with a trans patch on their backpack or something. I had been hoping for Peter to actually interact with one of them, to refer to them by name. Obviously having such a diverse cast with queer characters being played by actual queer actors is a huge step up from Joe Russo’s “grieving man” but like that shouldn’t be where the bar is at this point. 

Tbh the headstone and zombie iron man were cliche, and i think it would have been much more impactful if Mysterio had made an allusion of Tony himself instead.

Why would Dr Strange not be available to fight massive elemental monsters from another dimension bent on consuming the earth like dude make yourself available??

I wish the new suit included Karen so that we could see how she and Peter’s interactions have changed now that he is expertly familiar with the functions of the suits. Additionally, the spider-drone would have been cool to see again.

The illusion to Uncle Ben with the “BFP” initials on Peter’s suitcase was great but I do wish we could get some actual information about him. We don’t need to see his death or the “with great power comes great responsibility” speech- we’ve already seen that enough times- but a little clarification on what officially happened to him in the mcu would be interesting. 

Honestly I thought it was too convenient that May, Happy, and all of Peter’s closest friends also dusted. I had wanted to see how interactions between Peter and May or friends such as Ned would be tested emotionally due to the five-year gap.

The BARF tech being invented by Beck and stolen by Tony detracts from it being used in Civil War to establish Tony’s feelings about Howard and Maria’s murders. If it isn’t Tony’s invention, that takes the heart out of it. 

I had really hoped that the glasses were going to end up revealing Tony as an AI, or at least some kind of message from him, and i thought was weird that Tony would give Peter access to a system that allows him to order drone strikes on his classmates.

Also...  so the drone strike on peter’s bus was faked by Mysterio’s team because they needed to get the EDITH glasses from Peter? Because the EDITH glasses give them access to the satellite that deploys the drones? But they already have the same drones? and use one them to fake the bus attack? so why do they need EDITH? Maybe i missed something but that makes no sense to me. 

[cannotgiveafuck]

Billy Batson & Captain Marvel identity analysis (long post ahead)

Alrighty then! So I contemplated posting this bc it's so closely tied to the wip fic, buuuut here it is. Ive never been really satisfied with how some media portray this character bc they either lean too far towards childish or angry, or divide the identities too much. And whilst writing the fic I thought about how I wanted to portray him and what that entailed. A long semi comprehensive ramble of headcanons and character analysis based on the individual and combined identities of Billy and Marvel!

First, we have Billy. This kid who's parents died on a work trip, was left in the care of a greedy/selfish old man that did not care for him at all, has bounced through foster homes for a plethora of reasons (some of which are behavioral or abusive), and ultimately decided trying to make it on the streets was his best option (before being picked up by Dudley).

Now, backstory wise, it's all very obvious that Billy would have trust issues, especially towards adults (and double towards adults who try to control him). His learned attitude towards those that set their eyes on him (both before and especially after becoming Marvel) is guarded and aggressively defensive, he's snarky and sarcastic, ready to flee at a moments notice, and scared of being once again used, abused, and tossed aside if he were to trust someone. But at his soft core he desperately wants to be cared for, he wants affection and love and family, he wants a safe and secure home, he wants to believe in good.

All of this bleeds into his attitude towards his peers, too. Before becoming Marvel, he's a bit jaded and lost - his wrecked home life creating the chasm that keeps him from opening up and relating to others, from making real friends (the few exceptions being friends he considers family, and whom he is very loyal and protective of). After Marvel, Billy doesn't even try to associate with kids his own age. He stops going to school and is so focused on trying to be a good hero, he has distanced himself even more. But also, all the situations that he is exposed to really matures him. He still enjoys video games and sports, but he's also worrying about keeping Fawcett City and the world safe and working with JL - he doesn't have time nor patience for naive and clueless kids. But since he still is a kid and wants to have fun, those he let's in he holds onto and divulges everything to.

However, despite his hard outer shell, I do believe Billy is good and tries to be good and wants to see the good in those around him. A prominent and reoccurring memory of his parents is them telling him to be a good kid. That very much shapes Billy's views and ideologies. He wants to be a good person, which means he needs to help others (however he sees fit, from stopping bullies to carrying an old ladys groceries), but also realize that there is good all around him in everyone else, too. He has kind neighbors, and a community that helps each other, he knows everyone has their own struggles and they may direct negative emotions outward but may just need a helping hand in return. Billy knows suffering and cruelty and does not want to cause that, he wants to end it. So, theres this conflict inside him that he views as being smart vs being good. His true sunshine and trusting demeanor is boosted when he is chosen by Shazam, because now he has this divine and worldly responsibility to do and be good. And while he does not hold value in himself (abandoned and abused orphan does not hold a high confidence or self esteem level), he also wants to prove that he is worthy of inheriting this power, that there is good in this world and in him.

Now, second we have Captain Marvel. This is where identities become...complicated. The way I see it, Marvel is a mesh of 'Billy Batson', 'The Potential Adult Billy Could Be', and 'The Vessel of The Greek Gods Powers'. Since I've gone over Billy's identity, it transfers onto Marvel pretty seamlessly. So as The Adult Billy, he is still Billy Batson, but the grown up version, comfortable in his skin and in social standings with others, he is without the limiting physiological responses and capabilities of being a child. Despite all his experiences, Billy is still a kid - a bit awkward in his growing body, he's impulsive with his emotional responses, he jumps to conclusions and is very one track minded, has a hard time putting words to thoughts or instincts and understanding certain things and intentions (situations being very black and white). But as Adult Billy who is Marvel, he still sees through the same eyes, but he can filter distractions and pause to think through reflexive emotions, and he has a better understanding on just how morally grey the world can be, a gained clarity on other intentions and livelihoods, and he can empathize and read other's emotions in more detail than just the basic happy/mad/sad. Basically, Billy's brain has physically grown to that of an adult.

On the other hand, there is also what I like to believe is a...sort of third will in what makes Captain Marvel. He is, for all intents and purposes, a vessel or an avatar of sorts. He is a Chosen Champion by the Wizard Shazam to wield the powers of the Greek Gods (specifically the Greek gods, bc...well, that's a whole other post to ramble on), hes the mortal connection between them and the human world, their gift to the humans as a protector, as the guiding light of good. He is a symbol and title beyond one person. It is much like the mantle of Batman being passed on, except instead of all the gadgets and tech and databases...it's experiences and memories and wisdom gained by the previous Marvels, and available when properly called upon. Captain Marvel is like a reincarnation every time there is a new chosen champion. Billy is himself, but there were also others before him, other Marvels that existed and lived that can be remembered.

There is, however, a weird side effect to this being that the more in touch and immersed with these previous Marvel's he becomes, the more he slips away from himself - less Billy and human, more ancient and disconnected. He loses Billy's mannerisms and speech pattern and warm empathy, he still follows the ideology of good, but the charisma is gone, he's distant and cold.

All of this makes for a very interesting and fun way of writing Marvel and Billy - in how they each think through situations, how they each interact with the same people, how they each react to everything. And that's including how the same people react and treat each of them differently. Someone may see and treat Billy as a kid, but with Marvel they interact with and see an adult, a peer. When someone knows who Marvel really is, they need to consciously remind themselves that Marvel is Billy is a kid, because literally everything about Marvel screams at their senses that he's an adult (sunshine naivety aside). He still walks and talks and looks and is capable of thinking like an adult. It's not a situation of a couple of kids standing on top of each other in a trenchcoat or a kid dressing and doing their makeup like an adult. Magic has made him an adult, sort of.

At the core of it, the one experiencing and remembering and feeling everything is a child. There is no separating that, he is a different face of the same coin. So while Marvel can handle the emotional and mental exhaustion and stress of the situations he is put in, Billy Batson is going to suffer through the replays when everything is done. Because superheroing is not all saving lives and being praised, it's seeing people be hurt and bleed, interacting with the worst of humanity and others, witnessing tragedies and death in small intimate encounters and in large numbers. He is the one that will have nightmares and trouble sleeping, he is the one that will bear the brunt of the trauma and remorse, navigating detailed memories of violence and how it felt to hurt, wondering why there are phantom pains and aches when his body is not damaged, all with no trusted support system to turn to (because if he does, will the JL just see him as a child who cannot handle being a hero? will they turn him away?). Billy is the one having his childhood and innocence ripped away from him for the sake of the world. There are consequences of being the chosen champion, and while Billy is willing to accept them, will continue to fight and uphold his divine duties, will put others before himself every time, it wont make be easy.

The potential of how complicated Billy and Marvel can be, and how other heroes cannot fully comprehend it without a trusted in depth discussion (only Black Adam can understand and lemme tell you, that's a hot mess) - that's what makes him and his situation so interesting and fun to write.

[yeehawdante]

Heaven on a Landslide pt. 10

May 3rd, 8:08 p.m. 

The office was silent, almost empty save for  Dante who was nodded off at his desk, a bad habit of his when Penelope wasn’t around to drag him to bed. The silence was broken by Morrison’s distance whistling, growing closer with every passing second until the door was opened. Dante pulled the magazine down from his face just enough to look at him, letting out a sigh. 

“You could’ve at least knocked Morrison, never know what you’re gonna walk in on,” Morrison eyed the obvious love bites that trailed down Dante’s neck and disappeared under his collar with a chuckle. 

“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” he fanned himself with his hat and gazed around the dark office, “where is the little lady anyway?” Dante let out another sigh, tossing the magazine onto his desk. 

“Just went out on a job yesterday,” that definitely explained why the office was in such disarray. Penny usually kept the office somewhat clean, or rather forced Dante to clean up after himself for once. 

“Well, I’ve got some good news and some bad news…” He walked over to the worn out leather sofa, “pick your poison, which you wanna hear first?” 

“Just speak,” Dante let out a yawn. 

“Bad news it is,” Morrison took a seat, “Lady Patty’s feathers are ruffled. See, she wants to invite you to her birthday party, but your phone is disconnected,” Dante chuckled sarcastically. 

“You’re a smart one, Morrison. You notice the electric and water are out, too?” 

“I expected nothing less,” Morrison wasn’t sure how Dante got along those years Penny wasn’t around. Seemed like she could only be gone for an hour and something would go wrong.

“So, what’s the good news?” 

“Oh, I got a gig. Cash, up front,” the legendary devil hunter sat up straight, interest clearly peaked. 

“Cash up front? This, I like. The water needs turning on and those toilets need flushing before Penny gets back and kills me.” Morrison rose from his seat and tossed an envelope onto the cluttered desk. 

“Water, gas, and power...comin’ outta your cut. You’re a real agency now.” Just as Morrison lit his cigar, the office came to life. Music flooded the room from the jukebox, soft yellow light illuminating the room and amplifying the mess, and the air conditioning mercifully kicked on. The phone immediately began ringing, and Dante lifted the receiver to his ear with a smile. 

“Devil May Cry-” 

“Dante, Dante!” The white haired man grimaced at the shrill voice of Patty shouting into his ear, holding the phone away from him and giving Morrison an incredulous look, “do you have any idea how many times I’ve tried to call? Like a zillion!” Morrison chuckled, “Oh my god, tonight’s my birthday party! Yeahhhh!! I’m turning 18, not a little kid-” Dante slammed the phone down with a sigh. Thank god Penny wasn’t home, he’d been getting another whole earful. 

Dante groaned when the phone rang again, yanking the cord out of the phone and revelling in the silence for a moment. 

“Okay, Morrison, I’ll take you up on that gig. But only if you can get me out of that hellish birthday party.” 

“Consider your RSVP declined,” Dante pumped his fist in the air. As if they were waiting for their queue, someone came walking through the door as Morrison said, “meet your new client.” A thin man adorned with tons of tattoos leant against the wall, a book in hand and a cane in the other. He looked like someone from one of the bands Penny listened to when she was younger. 

“Listen, I’m gonna find Lady and Trish. Bring them in on this,” Dante tore his eyes away from his strange client to glare at Morrison. 

“What? C’mon, you don’t think I can handle this gig on my own?” 

“It’s a big job...Big job, Dante. You’re gonna need the help,” and with that, Dante was alone with the dark haired man. 

“So, what’s your name?” The man didn’t look away from his book as he walked over. 

“I have no name; I am but two days old…” before Dante could make any sort of snarky remark, the man closed his book and smiled, “just kidding, you can call me V.” 

“Okay V…” Dante leaned back in his chair, “why don’t you tell me everything about this job?” 

…

So it was true, Vergil was back. Dante knew deep down, of course, Nero wouldn’t be around if he wasn’t. But to actually hear it out loud, that didn’t sit well with him. He sat with his chin rested on his hand, tapping a finger against his leg. He couldn’t stop running through it in his head, picking at the details to expose one tiny flaw in V’s story that would tell him that dramatic bastard was lying to his face but no such luck. 

V stood by patiently, leaning on his cane as his eyes scanned the pages of the book in his hand. Dante finally spoke up after a long beat of silence. 

“I’ll help you...but under one condition,” the tattooed man’s eyebrows raised slightly, “my partner can’t know about this.” 

“Partner?” 

“Penny, she’s out on a job right now but-” Dante sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Something about V’s expression shifted, seemingly dumbfounded before looking somewhat bitter. Dante decided the reason wasn’t important for the moment. “She can’t know,” it made his stomach twist uncomfortably when he thought about lying to Penny. But the guy was the father of her son, and a long time ago she even loved him, he couldn’t let her carry that weight of hurting him. It was better she didn’t know. 

“Vergil’s lover, I see why you would want her to remain unknowing,” Dante narrowed his eyes. Ex lover...and how did he even know that? He scrubbed a hand down his face, somehow one of the hardest things about his asshole brother being back was having to keep it from her.

June 15th, 10:06 a.m.

Penelope surely knew what V was by now, and a small part of him ached with regret in knowing she would despise him from them on. That didn’t matter anymore, for he truly doubted that she would emerge from the fight against Urizen victorious. He mentally shook himself, he had more pressing matters to attend to. The devil sword Sparda was close. He couldn’t allow himself to remain distracted any longer. 

After a bit of travelling and facing a few new threats, the sword’s presence had grown incredibly strong. V came upon the dancing demons his feathered companion had mentioned earlier, watching them gruesomely worship Sparda in the midst of a puddle of blood. He actually smiled when he looked up to see the Sparda lodged into the wall above, satisfied that something had finally gone the way he planned. 

“Whoa, this is like some kind of ritual shindig, isn’t it?” Griffon flew closer to the masked demons, catching their attention,”You guys got the dance fever for Sparda, don’t you?” They were suddenly much more interested in the poet and his demon pet, closing in on them hungrily. “Whoa, easy on the dance floor there, partner.” 

“I’ll be taking that back,” the tattooed man pointed at the legendary sword with his cane before turning his attention back to the demons in his way, tapping his cane against the palm of his hand. “You know your endless worshipping isn’t making the Sparda any happier.” 

The masked atrocities proved to be more difficult than V had anticipated, even managing to get a few hits in with their strange and unpredictable movements. But eventually the eyesores were eradicated and the only thing keeping him from that sword was a root. He plunged his cane into the opposing root with a grunt, the collapsing of the tower thundered all around him and he watched the sword plummet to the ground with a clang. His breathing grew unsteady with anticipation as he tossed his cane aside and approached the weapon. His thin fingers wrapped around the hilt, and he sucked in a deep breath through his nose as he tried to lift it. He rose to his feet, willing his arms to lift the damn thing but they shook pathetically under the stress. The sword dropped back to the ground as he panted. 

“It seems this sword is still too strong for me…” Griffon appeared at his side. 

“So close though, so close.” He hovered in front of him, “you’ve got a lot of heart, kid, you really do, but you’re a bit of a sissy in the strength department,” the demon bird cackled but cut himself off quickly, “hey, hey, no offense, you know.” V knew what he had to do, he just wondered if he would be too late. 

“Penelope’s child, Nero...he has the strength,” a sudden roar from his less chatty companion pulled his attention away from the sword. 

“It speaks!” Griffon taunted slightly, and V noticed the demon cat was peering over the edge of the cliff. He got to his feet and managed to drag the sword with him to see what Shadow was bringing his attention to. He followed the demon’s gaze, the sword almost dropping from his hands at what he found. 

“Dante…” Griffon didn’t waste any time flying down to investigate. The man’s usual white hair was practically dyed red from all the blood, along with his clothes. Thunder rumbled up above as a smile crept on V’s face, there was some hope after all. 

V jumped down to where the legendary devil hunter was, grabbing him from his almost deathbed of Qliphoth roots and laying him on his back on the ground. Griffon perched next to the unconscious man, letting out a near delirious laugh.

“I don’t even have the words, I-He’s alive, he’s alive!” 

“The devil sword Sparda was concealing Dante’s presence,” V gazed down at the sword in his hand thoughtfully. 

“How does one friggin’ guy have so much luck, huh?!” A clang sounded through the otherwise silent area when V suddenly let his cane drop to the ground, pulling his companion’s attention away from Dante. 

“Uhhh, V?” Griffon started to panic when V gripped both hands around the Sparda’s hilt, dragging the sword closer to Dante, “no no no, get a grip on yourself now, c’mon!” His words had no effect on the poet, his emerald eyes seemingly alight with fury. 

“If only you could defeat Urizen,” his voice was hardly above a whisper, “If only...no.” 

“V? No, no no…” 

“If only you never existed,” his breathing had become labored under the stress of wielding the sword and the pure anger flowing through his veins. He used all of his strength to lift the sword over Dante’s head, “then I-” 

“Don’t do it V!” Griffon rose to flutter above Dante’s unmoving body, “no, no no!” Just as V moved to impale the sword through the man on the ground, Dante’s eyes shot open and V’s movements came to a harsh halt. V quickly planted the sword in the ground beside Dante’s head, doing his best to smile even though he’d been two seconds away from ending him. 

Dante tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking to the sword mere centimeters away from his face. He sat up with a grunt as V collapsed to the ground behind him. 

“For a second there I thought you were gonna shishkebab me,” V almost rolled his eyes, of course Dante’s first words are a joke. 

“I know how stubborn you can be. I thought it might be the only way to wake you,” he didn’t even try to sound like he was telling the truth. 

“What day is it?” 

“The 15th...of June.” Dante let out a long sigh, grimacing slightly before chuckling. 

“A month?” He grunted as he struggled to his feet, stretching his arms over his head, “no wonder I’m so stiff.” The distinct sound of wings fluttering approached fast, Griffon suddenly right in Dante’s face as he stretched out his stiffened muscles. 

“Right, sunshine, now put a fire under it. We gotta get going ‘cause that annoying pimple Nero is making a beeline for Urizen. And if he gets there, he’s gonna-” Griffon squawked in surprise when Dante suddenly gripped him by his throat, tossing him away, “smashed like a bug!” Dante turned around to face V. 

“Hey, this is my gig. Leave Nero out of this-” Dante paused, and V could practically see the gears turning in his head as he pieced missing parts of the puzzle together. “If Nero’s going for Urizen, where’s Penny?” V pursed his lips. 

“Where do you think that stubborn woman is?” Dante glared a hole through the thin man in front of him, veins standing out in his neck. 

“So...you’re telling me that not only is my girlfriend’s son getting himself killed, but so’s my girlfriend?” He approached V slowly as he spoke, his jaw visibly clenched. The man in front of him gave him an odd look, narrowing his eyes questioningly. 

“Is the boy not yours?” Dante rested against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“No,” he said firmly before letting out a sigh, shaking his head, “why’d you let her get involved? We agreed she needed to be left out and now she’s out there face to face with him!” 

“If you could defeat Urizen...then she would have never felt the need to get involved,” V rose to his feet, “she’s been eager to avenge you.” He retrieved his discarded cane, “But Urizen is much stronger than we ever could have imagined... Our last hope Nero was completely useless,” V was lucky Penny wasn’t there to hear him talk about her son like that, Dante could still recall all the swords she’d thrown at him for the smallest remarks against her precious brat. 

“And with the way Penelope spoke, her son is much stronger than she,” V let out a bitter laugh, “so I can’t imagine she will be of much use either,” Dante uncrossed his arms, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“She’s...she doesn’t give herself enough credit. She can hold her own,” he was saying it more to reassure himself than V. He shook off the worry digging into his chest, “all right, enough’s enough.” He walked over to where the Sparda was stuck in the ground, lifting it with an ease that V couldn’t help but envy, “can’t let a boy do a man’s job,” he rested the sword on his shoulder. 

“Hey, wait...I’m not done talking yet-” V’s strained voice was cut off when he stumbled to the ground. It seemed he had used up his last bit of strength to wield the Sparda for that short time. Dante stopped to look at him for a moment. 

“Okay, you get some rest. By the way...I guess I owe you one.” Dante continued onward, he couldn’t say he was surprised Penny got involved but...god did he hate how stubborn she could be sometimes. 

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

Penelope was sent flying back by a gigantic explosion, freeing her from the tendrils slowly choking the life out of her. She rolled backward until she slammed harshly into a wall, hissing when the impact sent white hot shocks of pain up her spine. She looked to her son, who had fallen unconscious as she coughed and sputtered. 

“Who dares interfere?” Urizen boomed, bringing the wounded woman’s attention to her savior. An unfamiliar demon hovered in front of the demon king, something familiar resonating from him. The fiery creature was easily dwarfed by the demon in front of him, but somehow he managed to give off a much more intimidating aura. Tendrils shot through the air toward the winged demon, only to be caught and torn from Urizen’s oversized body. “What creature stands against a king?!” 

Penelope struggled to her feet, her muscles screaming in protest but she needed to get her son to safety while she still could. She gazed up into her rescuer’s back, now that her brain had regained its oxygen she felt she could think clearly. Her heart hammered in her ears as she realized she recognized the demon’s presence, almost collapsing once again when everything became clear. She covered her mouth with her hand, something between a sob and a laugh clawing up her throat as she backed up towards her son as best she could with her limbs trembling so violently. But for the first time in a whole month, it wasn’t fear that had her shaking, it was pure, unbridled joy. She lifted her unconscious son onto her back, unable to fight off the smile tugging at her lips. She blinked away her tears as she looked up at Dante. 

“It took you long enough,” she backed up toward the exit, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from him, “don’t take much longer, you hear me? Win for me,” Dante turned his head slightly to look at her before she sprinted out of the room, a new burst of energy sprouting from the new hope she felt swelling in her heart. 

The ground started to shake violently as she ran ahead and she nearly lost her balance, Nero’s weight only adding to the difficulty of her movements. She pushed on despite the struggle, pressing forward until she came upon a familiar van. She breathed out a sigh of relief when Nico came bursting out the door, big brown eyes blown wide. 

“Holy shit, you two look awful,” Penelope chuckled. 

“It’s good to see you too,” she grunted, carrying Nero inside and placing him on the couch. She collapsed on the floor right next to the couch, taking a much needed breather as Nico stood by rather anxiously. 

“What happened? You’re bleedin’ all over the place,” it was only then she remembered she had been impaled. She waved Nico off with a tired smile. 

“It’ll close up in a sec, just need...some rest,” she leaned her head against the couch behind her and closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath. She was lulled to sleep by her son’s steady breathing, her last thought being how grateful she was that she was lucky enough to even still be hearing it.

[cornishbirdblog]

Continuing my Cornish Bird’s travel adventures!

They do let me out of the county sometimes!

Wroclaw has been described, like so many other watery places, as the Venice of Poland. With 130 bridges connecting its twelve islands the city does seem afloat. The river Oder encircles the buoyant old town and it was its powerful course that created those little islets on which the historic centre now balances.

I spotted my first one standing jauntily on a side street, umbrella in hand. Not understanding why he was there I was immediately curious. His cheeky expression gave nothing away and it seemed silly to ask. However like so many mythical creatures once your eyes have been opened to their presence you suddenly start seeing them everywhere. Little people laugh at you from window sills, they pop up unexpectedly in alleyways or on street corners, you almost expect to look down and find one tugging at your trouser leg.

“What’s with all the Gnomes?”

When I ask the lady in the tourist information office she shrugs “Well, Wroclaw didn’t have anything, no real symbol, so in 2005 the tourist board decided to have gnomes.”

She is straight faced and serious with the air of someone slightly disinterested in what she is saying. I try not to laugh as I step back out into the early evening bustle of historic town square. I am surrounded by pastel coloured Renaissance style mansions and the warm autumn sunlight is bouncing off their high windows making spotlights on the cobbles.

It is my first trip to Eastern Europe and I am suddenly aware how little I know about this area of the world. The language with its Slavic routes is unfamiliar in a way that German or Spanish never was. The food is pretty odd too at times and the drinking culture impressively enthusiastic for a Tuesday night. And then I discovered that this city has its own miniature secret army.

All over Wroclaw it is estimated that as many 400 dwarfs are hiding.[1] Mysterious, illusive, they lurk in the shadows watching as packs of selfie-stick wielding tourists hurry past in search of the perfect Polish Paczki.[2] No more than 8” high these brass gnomes have become the unlikely symbol of a sensible university town that has also produced cosmonauts, composers, philosophers and chess masters.

Although they often have their little pointy hats rubbed for luck the gnomes are not found on the streets of Wroclaw because of any magical or talismanic powers. They are, believe it or not, somewhat improbable symbols of freedom and revolution.

As the helpful assistant in the Tourist Information suggested the first five dwarfs were designed at the request of the Tourist Board and the mayor. In August 2005 Tomasz Moczek, a graduate of The Academy of Art and Design in Wrocław, lovingly made each one and found them their various hiding places around the city. Then Wroclaw fell in love.

Since then hundreds more have appeared. Some dwarfs are sponsored by small businesses, perhaps hoping to attract trade from all the passing gnome hunters, and others by wealthy individuals, presumably just gnome fans.

Although to the untrained eye they appear very similar each dwarf is an individual with its own name, (Dlugi, Kowal and Rogalik etc) and its own personal story.

The dwarfs of Wroclaw are not your regular ‘lazing-by-the-pond-grinning-like-a-fool’ British gnomes. They are very busy. You will find them engaged in all kinds of activities from playing musical instruments to fire-fighting and riding hippos. There’s even a site-seeing dwarf with a camera taking a photograph of an even smaller dwarf. But don’t be deceived, these are actually their twilight years, their retirement in fact, because in the past they had a much more serious and important mission.

The dwarfs or krasnoludki[3] of Wroclaw started appearing in the city in the 1980s. They were graffitied on walls as the tag of an underground surrealist movement known as the Orange Alternative.

Dwarf graffiti during Martial Law in Poland, CREDIT: Tomasz Sikorski

The group, led by artists Waldemar Fydrych[4] and Wieslaw Cupala[5], was trying to find a way to peacefully protest against their government’s censorship and oppression. Armed only with spray cans the Orange Alternative sought to undermine communism through gentle, subversive humour and their main weapon against government propaganda was surrealist street art.

Each time the authorities painted over any anti-communist graffiti they inadvertently provided the activists with a fresh canvas and a dwarf would appear.

The first dwarfs with their distinctive orange pointy hats were painted by Fydrych and Cupala on the night of 30/31st August 1982. One on the wall of a residential building in the Biskupin district of Wroclaw and then another on an electricity transformer station in the Sepolno area. The Orange Alternative’s motto became “There is no freedom without dwarfs.”

Dwarf graffiti during Martial Law in Poland, CREDIT: Tomasz Sikorski

“Why a dwarf?” Cupala considers my question nearly 35 years later, “That’s a long story. It is not easy to explain. This is connected with Slavic mythology and Polish tales for children.”

Poland has a deeply rooted tradition of children’s poems, stories and fairy tales, many coming from Slavic myths and legends, and many containing dwarfs. Although unfamiliar to us, as very few have ever been translated into English, they continue to be read to Polish children even today. The most famous O krasnoludkach i sierotce Marysi or The Dwarfs and Orphan Mary is still known by every child in Poland.

  Its author was Maria Konopnicka, a Polish writer and poet born in 1842. An activist for women’s rights and Polish independence, Maria organising protests against the repression of ethnic Poles under Prussia rule. Much of her work, often written initially to entertain her 8 children, expresses a deep patriotism, a nostalgic love of the Polish countryside and a longing for independence.

In the book, which has been made into a musical and an animated film, the helpful but playful dwarfs visit the poor, like Orphan Mary, and give them practical help with their problems.[6]

“In Polish tradition dwarfs are caring spirits for the home and family, they are wild and funny,” says Cupala, “but dwarfs can [also] be perverse and have malice.”

With such a long and chequered history of invasion and occupation Polish writers and artists have always found plenty to inspire them. Poland’s location in the centre of Europe has meant it has been invaded numerous times, by the Romans, the Mongol Army, the Teutonic Knights, Germany, Russia and many others. It was not uncommon for one set of invaders to be immediately replaced by another. Historically this is a nation of ‘little’ people repeatedly doing battle with a bigger invading power.

When Martial Law was introduced in Poland in December 1981 it was a very uncertain and frightening time. Ordinary people could be arrested without warning and many just disappeared. As the authoritarian communist government tried to crust any political opposition thousands of soldiers appeared on the streets and pro-democracy movements were banned overnight. A curfew was imposed, borders and airports closed, telephones disconnected and school and universities suspended. The economic crisis that followed resulted in terrible poverty and crippling rationing. Thousands were jailed and at least 91 people killed in the first few weeks.

It was during this claustrophobic climate of fear that students were roaming the streets in the dead of night painting gnomes on walls. When I ask Cupala whether there was one defining moment that made him and Fydrych want to take action he responses rather thoughtfully. “This is not an easy answer. In the grey reality, orange was the only solution for me.”

The dwarfs quickly gathered support. Gnomes started appearing across the city and then in neighbouring cities. In a Poland that was characterised by censorship and empty supermarket shelves the orange humour gave people hope and a way to express themselves without breaking the law. The activities of the group, which included members dressing up as dwarves complete with orange pointy hats, were intended to communicate not only the desire for freedom and change but also that the oppressive system itself was surreal.

Revolution of Dwarves, 1 June 1988, CREDIT: Rewolucja Krasnoludków

Fydrych and Cupala didn’t stop at dwarfs, they went on to stage numerous events around Wroclaw. They called these subtle, seditious protests ‘Happenings’ and their intention was to undermine the regime without directly challenging its authority.

When basic hygiene products ran low because of rationing the Orange Alternative gathered in the town square and began handing out single sheets of toilet paper to passers-by proclaiming “Let justice and socialism begin with toilet paper.” During a referendum on social policy the Orange Alternative publically called for the people of Wroclaw to register a 200% voter turnout using the slogan ‘Vote Yes Twice’. At the rallies that followed the Police couldn’t distinguish who was a nonconformist and who was a genuine voter and consequently didn’t know who to arrest.

On another occasion the people marched through the streets shouting “We love Lenin”. The irony of the Happenings wasn’t lost on the government but they were in many ways powerless to act. Authorities could hardly be seen arresting people for their support or for an illegal dwarf gathering.

The intentionally non-aggressive activities challenged the government in a way that hostile or violent protest never could and the surrealist tactics of the Orange Alternative were surprisingly effective. Their ideas resonated not only with the Polish people but abroad too. In the late 80s, The New York Times wrote: “Solzhenitsyn destroyed Communism morally, Kołakowski philosophically and the Orange Alternative aesthetically.” While Surrealism – 50 Works of Art You Should Know listed Frydrych alongside Picasso, Duchamp and Dali.

The Gothic St Elizabeth Minor Basilica in the centre of Wroclaw has been destroyed and rebuilt many times. From the heights of the church’s tower you can look down on the famous historic square with its medieval town hall, the winding grey river and the steeply pitched red-tiled roofs of the old city. Below you in the tangle of cobbled streets and alleyways the people seem like tiny and animated creatures, busying themselves with their daily lives. The dwarfs, smaller still, are entirely lost in the maze of streets but in June 1988 Wroclaw was overrun with them.

That summer 10,000 people marched through the city wearing orange pointy hats. They shouted the slogan “there is no freedom without dwarfs”, the message to the authorities obscure but unflinchingly clear. However puerile it may have appeared the Happenings and the dwarfs were also a show of strength and unity. The sea of people in gnome hats all knew exactly what they were really calling for and so did the government.

Free elections were finally help in Poland in June 1989. The part that the Orange Alternative playing in bringing about that political change was commemorate in 2001. A single gnome was placed on the corner of Swidnicka Street near the subway where many Orange Alternative demonstrations took place. Known as Papa Gnome, I decided that I couldn’t leave the city without paying him a visit. It is dark by the time I found him standing with his back to the busy crossroads.

Papa Gnome is much bigger than the other dwarfs, partly because he is standing on a large rock shaped lump of bronze and partly I suspect because of an enthusiasm for packzi. Chubby, with knobbly knees he has a mischievous little smirk on his lips.

These days the dwarfs’ freedom fighting past is all but forgotten and their hiding places exposed now that you can buy a laminated map of Wroclaw with the most popular dwarfs’ locations marked on it.

But Papa Gnome, hands clasped behind his back, knows what he and his kind achieved. I pat his bronze cap in gratitude before walking back towards the town square to play hide and seek with his smaller, cheekier progeny.

For more travel stories try: Stalin’s Boots: Momento Park, Hungary

[1] It should be noted at this point that it seems that the terms ‘gnomes’ and ‘dwarfs’ are interchangeable in terms of this discussion. Although I understand that there is an entomological and mythological difference between the two creatures in this context it should be taken to mean a fabled ‘little person’.

[2] Polish Doughnut, [pohnchkee] they are all perfect.

[3] Krasnoludki: dwarf. Polish translation – Krasny: red, colourful, good; Ludki: little person

[4] The leader of the movement Frydrych is still an activist and artist. He ran for mayor of Warsaw twice.

[5] Cupala was a Professor of Mathematics at Wroclaw University until retirement, he now runs a blog called Freedom and Peace.

[6] Illustrations from the original book showing red hatted little folk were released as a set of commemorative stamps in 1962.

Wroclaw, Dwarfs and the Orange Alternative Continuing my Cornish Bird's travel adventures! They do let me out of the county sometimes! Wroclaw has been described, like so many other watery places, as the Venice of Poland.