#but i think for bruce it's more pessimism

[knightwar]

There's a great juxtapositioning for me in BVS between Broose and Lex that I find so fascinating. Like thematically, it makes sense that both Clark's biggest defender and detractor are similarly two people who are both BIG Thinkers. They're world movers. They change the world. (There's so many stories that emphasize it more broadly although I think BVS does it well for me too.) But while Bruce is the one that tries to dig and bury himself in the shadow on the ground, Lex is the one clinging desperately to hover over others and float in the sky. It's different sets of ego and where the clarity of seeing someone like Clark, who isn't even technically human be the most human of them all, strikes opposing chords in them. Bruce sees hope, aspiration and heroism. Lex seeing blasphemy, terror and mockery. Bruce is humbled while Lex on the other hand is humiliated. Wild.

[delicatebatharmony]

Although I agree with this (I’d put Babs as “bat fam,” not necessarily “bat KID,” I did choose her. Tim clearly wouldn’t work, because his heart and motives are totally different from Bruce’s. I think Barbara best matches him in stubbornness, manipulation/control, meticulous planning, and pessimism/trust issues. Someone else said that BECAUSE Barbara is kinda pessimistic she doesn’t work, but aren’t Batman’s constant need for control and his back-up plans for back-up plans kind of signs for pessimism? He can’t really be described as a realistic when he’s… kinda paranoid

I know everyone chose Case, and I don’t disagree exactly, BUT I haven’t read enough of her yet to have a strong opinion either way. :(

From what I have read, she’s much more compassionate and gentle than Batman, even if she is just as talented and capable. Idk…

Picking the comics back up this week after a little hiatus! Woohoo!

I'm interested to see everyone's reasoning so put in the tags if you can/want

[pluckyredhead]

What did Tom King do to Kara?

you don't like woman of tomorrow? thats interesting, from what i can tell that seems to be one of king's least uncontroversial DC works and gets unanimous praise from the fandom + comic readers in general (not that i've read it myself, just from what i've seen)

Combining these two related asks!

I want to start out by saying that ALL of my problems are with the writing - Bilquis Evely's art is breathtaking and I wish it was being used to tell a story that deserves it.

I have two problems with Woman of Tomorrow:

King does the same thing to her that he has done with literally every other character, which is to cherrypick their history to tell the bleakest, most nihilistic, least heroic story possible. It's not super noticeable with Batman because Bruce is kind of always in that zone, but it's very obvious with characters like Wally West (Heroes in Crisis: Therapy Is Bad and Will Kill You), the JLI in Human Target, and Kara. His Kara is a depressed, foulmouthed, murderous drunk who spends the entire book suffering physical and mental torments. I am just so exhausted by the lack of creativity. Dude is a one trick pony and I don't understand why this isn't more widely recognized. (Oh wait, I do, it's because pessimism is so often mistaken for genius, and also he loves a nine panel grid which too many people think immediately makes a comic Deep (TM) instead of just copying Watchmen.)

THE STORY ISN'T EVEN ABOUT HER!!! The main character is Ruthye, the alien girl who hires Supergirl to avenge the death of her father. Ruthye narrates the book. Ruthye drives the plot. Ruthye has the emotional arc. Kara could be replaced by any Super or other strong alien - J'onn, Sodam Yat, fucking LOBO - and the story would be exactly the same. (Because it would be True Grit. It's literally just True Grit But Supergirl Is There.)

Now, there's a place for bleak and even completely pessimistic, nihilistic stories - but Supergirl ain't fucking it. Supergirl was created to give little girls a heroine to look up to who had all the powers of Superman. She is aspirational and inspirational. She is joy.

Woman of Tomorrow is aggressively Not For Little Girls. To me, it radiates a deep contempt for the idea of Supergirl as a happy, kid-friendly character. It drags her through the mud on purpose, and then looks at you like it's making a point, but the point is just "mud exists." Yeah, Tom, I know. WE ALL KNOW.

(In general, King seems to really hate the idea of "nice" girls - look at what he did to Tora in Human Target. There's an issue of WoT that flashes back to Kara's origin and the destruction of Krypton - except it goes all the way back to the Silver Age, which is a generally bright and happy era, and pulls directly from that version of events while also making it as bleak as possible. Like, at one point Kara finds a dead baby on the sidewalk. HE PUT A DEAD BABY IN THE SILVER AGE. HE IGNORED THE FACT THAT THIS ORIGIN IS FOUR REBOOTS OUT OF DATE IN ORDER TO PUT A DEAD BABY IN THE SILVER AGE.)

I wouldn't be nearly as angry about this book if it wasn't capping off 20 years of DC treating Kara like shit, but since she returned in 2003, they have had her try to murder Clark, had her sexually preyed on by Darkseid, implied an incestuous relationship with her father, had her be abused, made her a blood-vomit-spewing Red Lantern (an arc I actually liked because Guy Gardner as Kara's Space Dad has my whole heart, but it's part and parcel of Angry Violent Sexy Kara), had her infected by the fucking Batman Who Laughs, and more. And that's when they even bother to publish her! They refused to give her a 60th anniversary special in 2019 because "she has a TV show," even though Two-Face got a 75th anniversary special a couple years before. Fucking Two-Face!!! Kara didn't even have a regular comic for much of the run of her show, because why court an audience of millions when so many of them are icky women?

Grant Morrison said it recently and said it best (they were talking about "Superman as fascist," but I think it applies to this too):

"Why, I say, oh why, is it so hard to simply serve the concept and write the adventures of a smart, creative and kind-hearted teenage girl with superpowers?

[...]

"To undermine the fundamental appeal of superheroes like Superman and Supergirl by re-casting them as anti-heroes at best or outright monsters - dragging imaginary childhood paragons off their pedestals to reinforce a fairly facile point about the tendency of real world heroes to exhibit feet of clay, struck me and strikes me still as imaginatively lazy.

"Using kids’ adventure heroes to make hackneyed observations about typical human behaviour that does not in fact apply to made up comic book characters strikes me as – I don’t know - whimsical? Dilettantish? A squandering of energy and creativity?"

Supergirl isn't for the edgelords of the world. She isn't a tool for reiterating, yet again, that life is pointless and full of pain. She is intended to inspire little girls, and anyone who doesn't understand that has no business writing her.

[mypoisonedvine]

Bankrupt | dark!40′s!Stucky x reader

Your husband’s gambling addiction quickly got him in hot water with the mob, and you by extension.  When some debt collectors come by to settle what is owed, you realize that you have a lot more to worry about than money problems.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: non con, dub con, DP, anal sex, coercion, a lil bit of knife play, basically everything awful you can imagine, please don’t read if you would find it upsetting.

@hnryycvll thanks for watching me write this live lol

moodboard by @nsfwsebbie​

You knew something wasn’t right when Bruce left in the morning.  He kissed you on the forehead, which was normal, but just before he stepped out for the day he turned back.

“You know I love you, right honey?” he asked nervously.

“Uh, yes, of course I do,” you answered with a raised brow, “I love you too.”

“Good,” he nodded, stepping out the door again.  

“I’ll see you when you get home,” you smiled.

“Of course,” he agreed, and shut the front door behind him as he walked to his car.

You’d seen that look before, and you knew he’d done something.  But it felt different this time.  You wouldn’t be shocked if he came back with a few bruises, claiming he had tripped when you knew he had been roughed up by mob thugs over his gambling debt.  He had told you before that he’d settled the debt and that it was going to be fine, but you weren’t sure you could really believe it anymore… after years of lying and stealing to feed his addiction, you had lost a lot of trust.  But you always tried to stay positive.

That said, a knock at the door an hour later made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.  You really considered not answering it, and yet you were already unhooking the latch and turning the knob before you knew what you were doing.

Two men stood outside, dressed much nicer than a visit in this sort of neighborhood merited.  You nearly had to crane your neck to look at them: they were so tall.  And you could tell that underneath the three pieces, they were carrying a lot of muscle.

You’d seen guys like this hanging around before.  You knew what they did.

“My husband isn’t home,” you instantly informed them.

The blonde one standing in the front smiled.  The dark-haired one in the back took a last puff of a cigarette before dropping the butt and stomping it with his shoe.

“That’s no trouble,” the blonde explained.  “Why don’t you let us in and we can talk to you?”

“You can go hassle him at work, if you want,” you shrugged.  “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“We’re not here for your husband, sweetcheeks,” the other one interjected with a tone of irritation.

“Just invite us in for a drink, won’t you?  It’s hot out,” the blonde requested.

You didn’t get the sense you had much of a choice.  You stepped back and opened the door.  The two of them nodded as they filed in, giving your living space a cursory glance as you shut the door.  You knew it wasn’t much.  You hoped they felt guilty for taking all your money and leaving you with so little that you had to live in a place like this.

When you turned back to face them, you caught their glances moving up your body.  You tried to ignore it.

“Do you want ice water?  I think I might have some tea--” you began.

“It’s fine,” the blonde dismissed, “we’ll make this quick.  We just need to have a little chat with you.”

“What about?” you asked nervously.

“Your husband owes a lot of money to my employers,” the dark-haired man explained through a thick Brooklyn accent.

“I don’t see why that’s my problem,” you frowned, crossing your arms.  

“It’s about to be,” the blonde chimed in, his tone lacking in any sense of mocking or deridition… which somehow made it even more sinister.

You did your best to keep a brave face, not show any fear.  You knew that’s what they wanted, and you had no intention of giving them anything they wanted.

“What, you gonna beat me up?” you asked incredulously, rolling your eyes.

“No, sweetheart, that’d be a waste of a pretty face…” the dark-haired man looked you up and down with a grin, “...and a great body.”

“Let’s start from the beginning,” the blonde suggested, cutting through the tension.  “I’m Steve, and my associate here is Bucky.  We’ve become quite acquainted with your husband.”

“Heard a lot about you,” the other-- Bucky, apparently-- added as he took a seat on your sofa like he owned the place.

“Only good things, I hope,” you chuckled nervously.

“Only great things,” Steve confirmed.

“Come sit on my lap, doll,” Bucky smiled, patting his leg.

“N-no, I’d better not,” you denied, stepping back only to bump into Steve’s towering form.  He pressed his body against you and you gasped as you felt the hard outline of a gun by his waist.

“Go sit on Bucky’s lap, sweetheart,” Steve recommended with a low voice, his eyes scanning you hungrily.

You nodded a little as you obeyed, watching Bucky’s face as you uncomfortably stepped towards him and sat on his knees.  He slipped an arm around your hips and pulled you back until you could feel what you hoped was a gun against your thigh.

“You seem like a good wife.  Obedient,” Steve praised, stepping a little closer.

“Loyal,” Bucky added, his voice reverberating over your neck as you felt the heat of his gaze.  “Stickin’ with him even when he spent all your money.  You shouldn’t have to live like this.”

“Yes, well,” you swallowed, “marriage requires… sacrifice.”

“You’re more right than you know,” Steve laughed.

“I don’t underst--” you began.

“Buck, hold her legs open,” Steve commanded as he started to reach for his fly.

Before you had a chance to attempt to squirm, Bucky obeyed and grabbed your legs, wrenching them apart with a brutal strength that you had no chance against.  Your skirt rolled up your thighs and you tried desperately to cover yourself but it was futile.

“No, please,” you began to beg, the illusion of fearlessness finally cracking.

“Does your husband ever get rough with ya?” Bucky asked with a low voice right against your ear that sent crawling chills up your spine strong enough to make your back arch.  “This’ll be like that.  Only better.”

“No, no please, you don’t have to do this,” you rushed as you saw Steve step forward, pulling his cock out from his trousers.  You looked away, though as you did you realized you should look at it to prepare yourself as best you could.  You gave it a glance only to whimper and look away again; it was big, and thick, and he was stroking it to its full size with ring-adorned hands.  He laughed a little when he saw your intimidation.

“Don’t be scared, sweetheart, I bet you’ll like it.”

“Please, I’m sorry, I’ll get the money if you need it, just don’t--”

You were interrupted by Steve’s hand roughly grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look him in the eye.

“You think this is a negotiation?” he growled.  “It’s not.  The negotiation happened yesterday, with your husband.  He traded you for forgiveness of his debt.  Don’t you understand?  It’s over.  You’re ours now.”

Before you had even fully processed the meaning of his words, tears were welling in your eyes and you began to sob.  “It’s not true,” you denied, “you’re lying.  He would never…” 

“I’m a lot of things but I’m no liar,” Steve frowned.  “Buck was there-- he sold her right?  You remember?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, “and pretty quick, too.  It was his idea, actually.  We didn’t even lay a hand on him before he offered you up.  Showed us a picture and everything.”

You fought against Bucky’s grip again as you cried but it was useless: he managed to pull your legs up higher, hooking under your knees, and grab your wrists too.  The position was uncomfortable but you couldn’t really worry about that as you screamed and cried at the feeling of betrayal.  “No, it’s not true, it’s not true…” you sputtered, not making much sense anymore, and not really believing your own words.

“You look pretty when you cry, doll,” Bucky purred.  You tried to kick at Steve and Bucky pulled at your legs harder, sending pain to your hips and causing you to yelp.

“Stop fucking fighting,” Steve hissed.  “You understand that if your husband isn’t good for the deal he made, we’ll kill him, don’t you?  So you’d better behave if you want to save his life.”

You froze.  On one hand, this was the guy who had apparently traded you to these awful men as if you were his to give away, and you hated him for all the years of lying and sneaking around and, most notably, gambling away all your money until he was deep in the mob’s pocket.

On the other, you still, for some reason, loved him.  You couldn’t stop yourself from loving him.  You’d promised to stick by his side for richer or for poorer.  You hadn’t known then that this was the poorest option, let alone one you would have to choose.  But you couldn’t let these men kill him.

Steve held your face with his hands in a way that was both dominant and soothing-- or at least, an attempt at soothing.

“You’re going to be good, aren’t you?  For your husband’s life?” Steve pressed.

You shivered a little, but took a deep breath and nodded.  He smiled and patted you on the cheek.

He pulled a knife from his jacket and quickly sliced off your underwear.  You sniffled as you tried to stop crying, fighting the urge to try to close your legs as Steve kneeled to look at you closer.

“Such a pretty little pussy,” he cooed.  “You know, at first I wasn’t sure this was a fair trade.  I mean, he owes us a lotta lettuce.  But now I’m thinking he’s the one getting screwed.”  Steve stood up and wiped a tear from your cheek.  “You know, besides you of course.”

“Just get it over with,” you whispered.  They both laughed.

“What’s with the pessimism, sweetheart?  Behave yourself and I’ll make it good for you.”

You whimpered a little as he rubbed the head of his cock through your folds, focusing instead on the hard grip Bucky had on your arms and how it would probably bruise tomorrow-- it wasn’t a pleasant feeling either, but much easier to handle than a near-stranger’s cock about to plunge into you.

He had to push pretty hard to get it to go in, barreling past the resistance of your walls until he was sliding into you.  You gasped and cried out, feeling Bucky’s cock harden underneath you in response to the sound.

“Fuck, so tight,” Steve groaned. “If I had a wife like you I’d’ve never let you go, sweetheart.  Wouldn’t even let you leave the house.  Not when I could fuck this perfect little pussy all day long.”

“It’s that good?” Bucky asked with a husky voice.

Steve buried himself in you completely and savored the feeling of your muscles fluttering around him.  You bit your lip and fought your tears.  

“You’ll get your turn, Buck,” Steve promised, “but I can’t promise I can give her to you in one piece.”

He pulled back out nearly all the way before slamming back in, making you choke on a scream.  He set a brutally hard, yet slow, pace as he fucked you senseless, stretching you open more than you’d thought was possible.  You hoped you weren’t as loud as you seemed to sound in your own head.

“You like my cock, don’t you?  See, this was what you always needed,” Steve purred.  “A real man.  Somebody to fuck you like a whore, just how you like it, huh?”

“Hnng,” you gurgled in lieu of a reply.

You relaxed into Bucky’s embrace as best you could, letting Steve use your body and hoping it would all be over soon.  

“You ever gonna let me get a piece of that?” Bucky growled at Steve.

“Soon,” Steve nodded breathlessly, “just a little more… fuck, it’s so good.”

Steve made a noise when he pulled out like he was mustering all his restraint to do it.  He gripped his cock once it was free, stepping back and watching Bucky adjust your body on top of him as he freed his cock from his suit pants.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be good, right?” Bucky pressed as he angled you to slip onto his cock.  You nodded feverishly as he finally pushed into you, rougher than Steve had, making you wince.  “Oh god,” he groaned, “you’re so wet.  Your pussy feels amazing, doll.  Jesus.”

You felt an unexpected sense of pride warm your chest.  You refused to believe that you actually wanted to make him feel good.  You decided it was just a tactical thing-- the more you pleasured him, the sooner this would be done with.

“Good, right?” Steve asked with a smile.

“So fucking good,” Bucky agreed, leaning you forward a little.  “Come on, baby, bounce on that cock,” he encouraged.  You set your legs on the ground and balanced your hands on his knees, lifting and dropping your hips with stuttered breaths as his cock brushed against something inside you that made your legs shake and quiver.

Bucky leaned back and watched you work, occasionally taking a moment to squeeze or slap your ass.  His hands wandered over your back, your shoulders, even your thighs; Bucky’s touch explored you until you felt his thumb circle over the puckered opening of your ass and you jumped a little in shock.

“Not there,” you begged, stopping your movements.  “Please, not there.”

“Wherever I want,” he corrected sternly.  You whimpered a little as you felt him press ever so slightly, your tight rim expanding to accept the tip of his thumb.

“Say it,” he demanded.

You forced your eyes shut.  “Wherever you want,” you repeated.  “Wherever you want, Bucky.”

He hummed in approval, and pushed his digit in to the first knuckle.  You suppressed a gasp.

“Did your husband ever fuck you here?  Or did he try, but you wouldn’t let him?”

“He never… we never…” you began, shaking your head.

“Seems like a waste,” he replied in a low voice, pushing in a little deeper.  “You’ve got such a great ass.  First thing I noticed when I walked in.”

“Is this what you were thinking about?” you asked with a gulp.  “Is that what you wanted to do the whole time?”

He chuckled darkly, and it was answer enough.

He pulled his cock from your pussy and you hated that you’d supplied plenty of lubrication all on your own.  He held you up as he started to press the head against your tighter opening, watching himself penetrate you with dark eyes.

He pushed his hips forward, adding more and more pressure until he was able to break past the tight ring of muscle, and you gasped like the wind had been knocked out of you.

“Fuck!” he yelped, his head falling back against the top of the couch.  “So fucking tight.”

It stung like nobody’s business but you tried to keep your breathing steady as he pulled you down to the base of his cock, which was apparently even thicker and so much harder than you seemed to remember.

“Aw, I’ll be gentle, baby,” Bucky soothed as you whimpered, moving you on top of him slowly.  “I don’t wanna break you.  Yet.”

The pain took what must have been hours to subside, your toes involuntarily curling into the shag rug-- which made you realize your shoes must have fallen off at some point.  Even when it hurt, you felt the pleasure underneath it all, his cock managing to stimulate places inside you even through the layer of your body in the way.

“She’s dripping, Buck,” Steve observed with a predatory grin.  “She loves it.” 

Bucky slipped his fingers between your legs and felt the wetness for himself, indeed as plentiful as Steve had promised, reacting with a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan.  “Fuck, you like my cock in your ass, don’t you?”

You shook your head even as you felt your hips moving with his involuntarily.  

“Just admit it,” he growled, wrapping a hand tightly around your neck.  “Admit that you love getting fucked in the ass, because you’re my dirty little slut.”

You sobbed, choking from the tightening grip on your throat.  “Bucky,” you whimpered, trying to plead with him but not getting very far into it.

“Do it for your dear old husband, huh?  God, what would he think if he saw you know?”

You closed your eyes, trying not to imagine the answer to that question.

“He’d probably be wishing he’d known sooner that his innocent little wife liked it up the ass.”

They laughed and you winced, feeling Bucky graze his teeth over the shell of your ear.

“Say it, doll,” he whispered, “say it just how I told you to.”

“I…” you began, but trailed off.  You yelped when he slapped you right between your legs, sending a shock of pleasure-pain through your body.  “I love getting fucked in the ass,” you finally stuttered out, “because I’m your-- your dirty little slut.”

Bucky moaned right into your ear, thrusting faster and deeper into you.  “Yeah, that’s right.  Dirty mouth on ya, too.  Gonna fuck you there another day.”

“Please,” you whimpered, not entirely sure what you were asking for.

Every slam of his hips into yours made your body shake, and you whined when he stopped thrusting to hold you down and grind against you.

You moaned with every movement, unable to stop the tears from flowing as the pain and the pleasure became indistinguishable.

You were so lost in it that you didn’t realize Steve was standing in front of you again until you felt his fingers pressing into your pussy.  You were so wet that it took almost nothing, but you still gasped.

“Damn, so wet for us.  Such a good girl,” Steve groaned.

Bucky pulled your legs up again, stilling inside you to hold you open for Steve.

“You can let go of her now, I reckon,” Steve informed Bucky.  “She’s done fightin’.  Look at her, she loves it.”

Bucky nodded and let go of your legs and arms.  You did try to shut your legs a bit, not out of any notion that this would stop: you were just trying to relieve the soreness in your hips.

It didn’t last long as Steve pushed your legs apart, freeing Bucky to wrap his arms around your waist.

You hadn’t even known it was possible to fit two cocks at once, especially two cocks like this.

You made a noise that was purely inhuman as Steve pressed into you again, feeling full beyond the brim, incapable of taking anymore-- and there was still so much of him left.

“I can’t,” you began to protest, but it fell on deaf ears as Steve continued to slide into your pliant body.  “It’s too much!  Steve!”

That got his attention, and he looked down at you with bared teeth.  “You’re gonna take it, whore.  You’re gonna take our fucking cocks.  And you’re gonna say my name just like that when I come in this ruined little hole.”

You sobbed as he bottomed out, feeling your holes clenching around them as you struggled to fit their girth.

Both of the men groaned a bit as they felt your struggle, Bucky licking and kissing at your neck while Steve tore your blouse open and roughly palmed at your tits.

“So fucking perfect,” Bucky praised before pushing your face to the side, pulling you into a deep and sloppy kiss.  You reciprocated instantly, though you struggled to put much thought into it as all your attention was on the peculiar and powerful feeling of two men inside you at once.

You heard your moans get louder and more unabashed as they were lost in Bucky’s eager mouth, echoing back until you weren’t sure who you were hearing anymore.

Steve’s thumb roughly rubbed at your clit and you nearly screamed from the overwhelming sensations flowing through your body; your head fell back on Bucky’s shoulder again, who kissed your temple and cheek in a way much too delicate for the situation.

“Didn’t I say I’d make it good for you?” Steve growled.  “Tell me how good it feels.”

You would look back on this moment and try to convince yourself that you were immersed in your role, that you were just saying whatever he wanted to hear for your own safety.  You would repeat over and over internally that you hated it and that you were just a hell of an actress with a strong sense of self-preservation.  But you would know that it was a lie.  Because what you said next was the honest-to-God truth, and deep down, all three of you knew it.

“It feels so fucking good!” you screamed.  “Please don’t stop, oh my god, I’m going to-- fuck!”

“Yeah baby, come on my cock,” Steve praised.  “His cock, too.  Come for us.”

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, wrapping your arms around Steve’s neck to brace yourself, “yes, yes, yes!”

Every part of you tensed up and tightened, your entire body like a spring pulled to its limit.  And as the tension released and you felt yourself shatter in their arms, a gush of wetness pulsed out of you.

“Fuck,” Steve grinned, “look at our girl, coming so hard for us.”

“Bet her husband’s never made her do that,” Bucky laughed.  “She’s clenching around me, Steve, I don’t think I can take much more.”

“Want us to come in you, baby?” Steve growled, nipping at your jaw.  “You wanna be so full of us, don’t you?  Wanna make us come?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, exhausted and weak, limp in his arms, “yes, Steve, please…”

Bucky lost it first, holding you so tight that you could barely breathe.  He babbled praise against your ear as he spilled inside you, telling you how good you were for him, how you were gonna make him feel good from now on, whenever he wanted.  You could barely process that as you felt Steve follow suit, moaning weakly as he pumped into you with stuttering thrusts, painting your insides with his spend.

“Yes,” Steve hissed as he began to come down from his high, both of them buried in you as deep as they could fit, all three of you panting like you’d just run a marathon.  

You winced as Steve pulled out of you, your face feeling hot as you felt his cum begin to leak out of you.  

Bucky helped you stand up and adjusted your clothes a little until you were covered up again… but you were sure you must’ve looked completely fucked anyways.  He scooped you up into his arms; an hour ago it would’ve terrified you, but now you leaned into his shoulder and curled up into a ball in his embrace.  He carried you out of the house and laid you down in the backseat of their car, with a tenderness you wished he had shown a little sooner.

He sat in the back with you while Steve drove you to Bucky’s apartment: your new home, they informed you excitedly.

The movement of the car rocked you to a place between sleep and wakefulness, and you tried not to listen to the men talking about the plans they had for you, or the ‘assignments’ they needed to complete this week.  Steve talked about needing to go out of town, and they decided that he would take you with him to relieve his stress.  “I’ll miss you though,” Bucky cooed, stroking your hair.

You were crying but there were no sobs, just tears flowing silently as you tried to think about the lines they were leaving on your face and not the fluids leaking from the rest of your abused body.

When the car stopped and you were carried into Bucky’s apartment, you felt your locket slip from your neck and fall into a grate.  A picture of your husband was inside that locket.  You got the sense you wouldn’t be needing it anymore.

[paragonrobits]

i wish i could transmit my thoughts directly to text form because i can never seem to get it down in the detail i have when i think of these ideas but anyway: for that combined comics universe idea I’ve been kicking around, consider heroes first appearing during the decade they were originally published (especially if thematically appropriate), with an attitude towards doing interesting things with character dynamics

a few examples:

1. Wonder Woman, Batman and Captain Marvel/Shazam (NOT Superman, and incidentally Billy would later pass on the name to an alien superhero he regarded as a successor, and then to Carol Danvers) first appeared in the 1930s, corresponding to their original publication dates. Wonder Woman was, in the distant mythological past, a violent Kratos-esque figure on par with typical Greek heroes, but later calmed down significantly into the technical pacifist and icon of universal love, and she swayed her fellow amazons from their following of Ares (as is mythologically appropriate)

2. Batman has stayed alive all this time due to the use of the Lazarus pits, though he is admittedly not entirely comfortable with it, and he’s pulled some weird shenanigans to avoid the question of how he’s still so young as Bruce Wayne. (The tabloids joke, ‘only bruce wayne could somehow fall right into a rejuvanating mythical fluid that’s supposed to make you bonkers’.) The pessimism and cynicism applied to him is a VERY recent development as a result of growing frustration with Gotham apparently being cursed, and a lot of personal stress and heartbreak, mapping to the events of A Death In The Family.

3. Superman is a relatively recent fixture, only coming in the last few decades in-universe or so, to enforce the idea of him as a new hotshot on the block and with a ton of power and idealism winning over people after a long period of setbacks that had many superheroes discouraged.

4. On the Marvel side of things, Bruce Banner first appeared during the 1960s, fitting an age of interest in atomic power in America... and people coming to understand its horrific consequences. After the accident, a good portion of the American Southwest was transformed into a vast Green Door to some hellish otherworld, its energies mutating countless creatures and people into gamma mutates. Bruce, the first of them, has spent a lot of time first trying to cure them, and then helping thme to accept what they are. The other classic members of the Hulk family (Betty Ross/Red Harpy, Rick Jones/A-Bomb, and technically Thunderbolt Ross/Red Hulk depending on how you look at it) also transformed at this time. Since then Hulk went into space, saved Sakaar, and settled into a more peaceful mindset, coming back with a family; his Warbound, including his son Skaar. Betty has a complex relationship with Caeira but its pretty polyamorous.

5. for more independent stuff: science hero Atomic Robo and Hellboy, paranormal investigator, first started appearing roughly around the same time and since they’ve been alive this whole time and reasonably active, there’s a frequent embarrassing amount of times where they had to argue about which cases was in whose jurisdiction; sometimes a dimensional anomaly is Weird Science and sometimes it’s a genuine ghost that won’t piss off. Hellboy takes an attitude of ‘hey whatever works’ and doesn’t mind that much, but Robo is strangely defensive about the whole thing.

[geekgemsspooksandtoons]

You know, I’m sorry if I’m gonna sound pessimistic...despite I try to be optimistic. I seem to be affected by pessimism sometimes...but spoilers for Bioshock.

Despite Ken trying to make the good ending canon. Including that we can make that choice...this is gonna sound horrible.

Even though he overcomes all of the shit through at him...I’m surprised Jack showcases no anger to Brigid or just...

This man’s life...was practically destroyed. So much had happened to him. He and this is something I apply to Archie...he has all the makings of a tragic villain or so. Something like Batman and this video I watched before. 

I’m surprised Jack doesn’t become this embodiment of rage, completely destroyed by his trauma...yet I’m talking about a character who isn’t given a personality...

I’ll delete this if this gets any drama...in all seriousness after reading some asks. Jack is still an intriguing character more than Booker...and I’ll still prefer Delta and Jack over him.

I think I’m thinking about this because I have thought to myself. Jack has hardly anyone...no one thought of him as human. Not even Brigid, or Elizabeth and I’m talking about the main universe. This man probably hasn’t gone through therapy...again, he hardly has anyone. Except those Little Sisters that he probably doesn’t want to traumatize or whatever. Then we have Brigid who...it’s unknown if she ever kept in contact with him.

I don’t like Ken. Yet I wouldn’t be surprised if the reason with the original one ending thing...that might of been his mindset. Despite I still agree the bad ending being the one ending is stupid.

I’m starting to feel like despite that was the intention...giving Jack no personality...bothers me in some ways. Or that I disagree with it...I’m sorry. Again, I am rambling.

Jack is again...such an intriguing character.

I’m sorry I think I needed a scene with Brigid and him talking. I think I’m just baffled by...despite I like that good ending. I can see why people are critical of it. I’m sorry if this upsets anyone. But I felt I needed to say that.

Edit okay after reading some comments on that YouTube or just one. I think the best way to look at Jack is something similar to Bruce Wayne. Despite how different they are. These comparisons I’ve thought of Jack or...Archie with Anakin Skywalker are something.

Basically the idea of a man who has suffered so much. But turning it into something good.

Another edit. I feel horrible making this. Because that concept of, “Jack being good despite he almost has every excuse to be a horrible person” is something I really like and I support.

[amarits]

The more Jason’s bruises faded, the weirder he looked lying there in bed, flat on his back with a blanket neatly tucked around his shoulders. Jason didn’t sleep like that. Jason slept like he’d barely won a battle with the covers and needed to strangle them into submission. Jason slept like he’d been wrestling a crocodile. Most of all, Jason slept so lightly from his time on the streets, that Dick had rarely seen him asleep for more than a split second before he jerked awake at the slightest sound Dick made.

People always said coma victims looked like they were sleeping peacefully, but Jason didn’t look asleep. He looked dead, neatly arranged in a coffin for mourners to pay their respects.

Dick took a deep, slow breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth. He didn’t want to think about how close Jason had been to dying. He didn’t want to think how close they still were to losing him. There were more ways than death for someone to be lost.

Fabric rustled behind him, and he looked over his shoulder at the door. Tim stood there in sweats, his coat draped over one arm.

“Sorry,” he said, before Dick could even think of a greeting. If there was one thing Dick had learned about Tim in the time he’d been haunting the manor like a ghost Jason had left behind, it was that Tim apologized a lot. He apologized for what he was doing, what he was thinking about doing, and for doing nothing at all. It was like he was apologizing for existing, for being there when every meal, every costume fitting, every quick burst of schoolwork between plans should have been done by Jason instead. Dick didn’t know if Tim was always like this or if it was his response to the grief and fear that saturated the manor. “I’m on my way out,” he said quickly, words rushing together. “I just wanted to…” His eyes flicked to Jason, and Dick waved him in.

Tim approached silently, on tiptoes, like a new parent trying not to wake a baby. If all it took to wake Jason up was a loud noise, Dick would be stomping around the room playing drums.

But he guessed he did the same thing. They all did. There was something about entering this room that made them all lighten their steps and lower their voices. Anything else just felt wrong.

“How’d it go tonight?” he asked. He already knew the answer was not well. He also knew that’s not what Tim would say. Dick couldn’t blame him. They all needed to be positive right now. Even Bruce, who was the patron saint of pessimism, had to believe there was a good ending they were working towards.

Dick didn’t want to think about what would have happened if Jason had died. Bruce tore his own life apart after the death of his parents. Dick didn’t think he’d survive the death of his son.

“Good,” Tim said with an almost convincingly positive lilt. “Great. A lot of people saw me as Robin, and I spoke with the police. A few more nights like this, and I’m sure everyone will know Robin’s still out there.”

“Hm,” Dick said. Tim was staring down at Jason’s face. Who knew what he was thinking, his first night out wearing a costume that belonged to someone else. “How’d it really go?” Tim’s gaze snapped to him in surprise, and Dick motioned to the clock. “It’s not even ten. I thought you were planning to come back closer to midnight.”

“Oh, that,” Tim said. His grip around his coat tightened as he stared back down at Jason. “Something came up that Batman needed to handle. Alone.”

His tone was still fighting to be positive, but the cracks were big enough they’d need a grapple to get across.

Read more on AO3

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 137

Exactly when you’d drifted off was a complete mystery. At some point you’d curled up to Tony on the couch in the living room, feeling like most of your energy had just poured out of you and wasn’t coming back any time soon. It was probably not a good idea, taking up so much of his time when he was busy with other more sensitive things. But he didn’t seem to mind, and he never once mentioned he thought he should be doing anything other than just being with you. But eventually the switch just shut off completely, and you went out like a light. 

When you awoke the next morning, it was in bed, and he was not at his desk. You expected that he’d probably moved his work station somewhere out into the living room so as to avoid bothering you. But after tying on a loose robe and wandering out there, that proved not to be the case. Even Dvahli wasn’t sprawled on the couch. The entire area was empty. Which made you a little nervous-

But that’s when you caught the early-morning notes of his voice and the definite smell of food and coffee coming from the kitchen, so you made your way over. He had his back turned to you, working something in a hot pan over the stove. Dvahli was perched on the island counter eating her usual morning breakfast. In the middle of cooking, Tony was also half paying attention to a holographic window, Steve on the other side of it, giving what sounded like a debrief. 

“-so I think our best bet is to regroup for now-” 

Dvahli gave you away as you got close enough to sit down, lifting her head with a little chirp. Tony half turned, smile warm as he looked at you and then quickly glanced back to Steve waving a dismissive hand. You pilfered his half glass of orange juice sitting out, emptying it as he continued. “Yeah. Sounds great. Look- I gotta go. Enjoy the time. Montenegro is beautiful. Just don’t make too big of an impression.” 

“Tony-” Stern and pretty annoyed. He just waved again, “Oh. You’re breaking up- connection must be loose-” And then full swiped his hand to send the window out of existence. 

You dropped your head to stow a smile. It really wasn’t a good idea to give confidence to Tony’s flippant behavior and sass, especially regarding Avengers activities. But… sometimes it just couldn’t be helped. “Everything okay with the team?” Unable to help asking. 

“Everything’s fine. Good morning, by the way.” 

“Good morning.” Hummed back as you set your elbows on the counter and put your chin in your upturned palms.

“They’re just taking a break. Bruce is recalibrating. We’re getting some low-level pings, not enough to send anyone out but more than enough to stay in the area. So. I told them to just take a few days off.” He dumped some sausage from the pan into a plate and then reached over to a carton of eggs and cracked a few into the skillet. 

So. The team was still staying away. That was good. Jessica’s plan, whatever it was now that she had this new information, would probably happen very soon. And you hoped to god whatever it was worked. You couldn’t keep them away forever. “Steve didn’t sound very happy.” 

“Is he ever?” Giving a derisive shrug. “He wants to work on things here. He wants to work on things there. I might as well start a cloning program otherwise he’ll never be fulfilled.” 

“That still wouldn’t fix anything.” Unable to help point out. “There’d just be two Steves. Not a hivemind. It’d be two different people working on different things-” 

“It’s a little early in the morning for philosophy, honey. Let’s just agree that he’s a grumpy old man.” 

“We’re older than he is.” 

He held up a finger. “Not technically.” Though he followed this up with a scoff. “Then again, that explains a lot.” Half turning to you with one of those smug grins, “Should I start calling him kid? You think that’d ruffle his feathers?” 

“Extremely.” Just the thought of it… that was a fight in the making. Steve already thought Tony talked more than he was worth at times, even when they got along. If Tony started asserting authority like that… it would get ugly. Even though… you still seemed unable to help your smile. Turning away again as Tony took the eggs off the burner and pulled a plate together, coming over to set it down in front of you. Reaching up, you wound your arms around him, settling your face against his chest. Breathing him in you murmured another quieter, “Good morning.” 

While one of his arms went around your shoulders, his other hand swept up and down your back in long passes. “I think we already said that.” Despite his snark, his tone was sweet. Easing you back a little, he lifted a hand to brush back some of your hair from your face. “You okay?” 

It would have been nice to be able to answer this in a way both of you wanted. But. That would have been dishonest. “I don’t know.” That was really all you had, and even that was closer to a lie than it was the truth. “Are you?” 

“Getting better.” This you also sensed was not entirely accurate. “Here though-” Shifting back he reached into his pocket and then came back out, producing your Heart Reactor. “I made some minor upgrades.” 

Always working. Easily you took it from him, and even though you weren’t really of the mind that there was immediate danger about to come get you in the penthouse (...despite certain events), you pressed it to your chest. “What kind?” 

He settled his arm over your shoulder, propping his hip out just a little as he smiled down at you. “Anyone tries to take that off you, they’ll be getting about twelve-hundred volts.” 

“Oh.” Well. That was something. It made sense now that it was out there, that he would do something like that. If the suit was your line of defense against that psychopath, making sure Kilgrave couldn’t just reach up and rip the Reactor off of you was the next best thing. “Is it-”

“Not enough to kill, no. I thought about it, but.” His head moved from side to side, eyes going up and around before settling on you again. “If we go too high, he’ll grab you and be unable to let go. I don’t think anyone wants that.” 

“Spare me the gritty details.” Ones you were sure he’d spent all night thinking about. Certainly. Yes. For sure. You didn’t want Kilgrave’s smoking corpse attached to your chest via his hand. Even if that would easily solve a problem that severely needed solving. But- this also explained why he seemed to be in a slightly better mood. You were protected now. While it was obvious he’d still worry, he didn’t have to worry as much. A thought you wished had easily transferred to you. Moving your hand up, you cupped his cheek in your palm and he quickly moved his own hand to cover yours. Holding you there against him. “I love you.” 

His entire being just seemed to soften. Eyes light and smile gentle. “I love you, too.” Letting go so he could slide in closer, you dropped your hands to his chest instead as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I think it’s premature to get comfortable. But. We’ll be alright.” 

You’d learned well by now it didn’t really matter how much you wished that was true. The universe would not answer that call. And so… you let your pessimism destroy the pretend domestic bliss you’d woken up to. “What if Jessica can’t handle this?” You should be there. With her. Helping her plan. Helping her with whatever it was she thought she was going to do. 

Yet it was a choice made for you. And in nobody’s favor. Even if that was egotistical to say. 

“Jones will do whatever she’s gonna do. Without help from anyone. She seems like she prefers the whole one woman show thing. You can’t let her make you feel bad for boxing you out.” Really. Sometimes… you wondered if Tony could read minds and had just never said anything. He was always suspiciously right about your concerns. “And if she fails…” 

What then? What would happen then? Kilgrave would know the group was on to him, and maybe even possibly know you knew his secret- ...although. You wondered if he even knew his own secret. It was such a strange thing. His power seemed to be one of suggestion. Who knew there was some mutated science behind it. Was that a thing he’d consider? Well, he definitely would if this blew up in everyone’s face. What then? 

Selfishly you decided, since there was nothing you could do, “Let’s not think about it right now.” There was no point. You had no idea what Jessica was going to do. Because that’s the way she wanted it. What was the point of wasting your time with Tony fretting about it? 

“Good.” Easing back he laid his hands on your shoulders, although stayed close enough to press a kiss to your lips. “Breakfast is getting cold, anyway.” 

Setting your hands on the back of his neck, you beckoned him in again for a longer kiss. This normal was pretend. But it was the only thing you had right now. “I love you.” 

That and him. Comforted so intensely by his presence- and so suddenly. One kiss dragged on into the next into the next, feeling yourself melt into a puddle as he held your face in his hands just as you fell short of breath, lips parting. Panting softly just before his tongue brushed yours. Was this okay? Was this right? To be doing this right now? Your knees went a little weak, lucky there was a tall stool behind you to just barely perch upon. But even as you sank to sit, he chased you there, kiss wholly uninterrupted.

One of his hands slid back into your hair in a soft tangle, prompting a quiet moan and your body answering that question for you as you lifted one leg up to wrap around his waist, drawing him in closer. You very quickly found yourself moving after a deep need for emotional and physical release after bearing such a heavy load for too long a time. Just once. You wanted to be able to indulge just this once. 

But as his hand settled on your hip, easing your sway atop your seat, he broke back, pressing his forehead against yours, breath coming in shallow draws. “Is this okay?” The tingle of his worry shivered over you, making you realize he thought he was going too far. 

“Please don’t stop.” The only thing you could think to say, and to your ears it sounded like begging. 

A small grin tugged at the edges of his lips. “What about breakfast?” 

“We’ll heat it back up.” 

His lips lined a trail down from your jawline to your neck as your head fell back into his waiting hand. “Oh we will, will we?” 

“I need you.” Those three little words shuddered out from you, seeming to cut the cord on any further joking or delay. Because as soon as they hit the air you felt the heat burning from him. 

He’d never disappoint you. 

                                                      --- 

You’d indulged. You’d indulged while other people were suffering. That wasn’t allowed. And that was why when JARVIS spooked you from an intense email you’d been drafting for the last hour in your office the next night, you almost expected it to be bad news. Because of course it would be. This was the last thing you had to do today. Or at least it had been. Until the universe decided to punish you. 

“Ma’am, Ms. Jones was spotted in an altercation several hours ago at 16th Street and Union Square West. There were two calls to 911 about a group attacking a gentleman.” 

Kilgrave. She’d gone after him. In broad fucking daylight no less. You sat back in your chair, staring blankly out. “Can you pick up anything from the police cameras around that area? Shop security footage? Do you know what happened?” “They apprehended the male and fled the scene in a van.” 

So Jessica had taken him somewhere. But where? Somewhere private and protected, no doubt. Somewhere that was equipped to handle his virus. But then what? What was she planning on doing? “Do you have anything else?” 

“I do not, ma’am, my apologies. But Ms. Trish Walker is requesting a meeting with you in the lobby. I think she may.” 

Trish. Jessica’s sister. The radio host. That was… probably bad. Probably very bad. You had to think this through logically and very quickly. Jessica had taken off with Kilgrave. Her sister was now in your lobby. Without thinking about it you put a hand over your Reactor, just clutching it lightly. Like a security blanket. “Send her up.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Shall I call Mr. Stark?” 

This too was being asked to move another chess piece. If she was being controlled she might bring the information back with her that Tony was here. While you didn’t know much about her, it was highly unlikely she could do much damage to you- ...then again. She was Jessica’s sister. Was she enhanced, too? “Not just this second. I’ll let you know.” It was better to be safe and keep Tony a distance away. “Just- let him know what’s going on. Just not to come down yet. Okay?” 

“Of course.” 

Shutting him out wouldn’t do any good, especially if you got into a corner you couldn’t back out of. But you still wanted to do your best to protect him. Kilgrave couldn’t control him from here, but if Trish was a threat, you wanted him to be safe. 

It only took ten minutes for the knock on your door. When you made a weak noise of approval, Happy appeared on the other side once it opened. “JARVIS said you okay’ed her?” He had probably been giving her a very hard time in the lobby. 

“Yes, she can come in.” 

“You want me to stay?” 

“You can sit at Pepper’s desk for now.” You wanted him involved as much as you did Tony, but he’d also put up a fight if you told him to go away. This had trouble written all over it. He wouldn’t leave you alone now. 

He just nodded, let Trish in with a warning glance between them and then shut the door behind him. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting. She was a slender woman with stringy blonde hair. And a lot of anger. That was about the only thing she seemed to share with Jessica. She came to a stop in the middle of the room, crossing her arms. “So. This is what you do all day. While everyone else gets their hands dirty.” 

Great. Off to a great start. Accusing you of something already. “Nice to meet you, Trish.” 

For a moment your vision bubbled as you stared beyond her- beneath her- not quite having the hang of active listening while also active investigating. But it eased you just a little bit to see her presence standing there in front of you. No purple control to speak of. 

“Don’t give me that bullshit. I want to cut right to the chase- I know your time is very valuable.” Her aggression snapped you back to the forefront. 

What was it with people just fucking walking up to you and accusing you of everything and anything under the sun? Especially when they accused you of apparently not doing enough. You already had that handled. You didn’t need anyone else to do it for you. “You can explain what your problem is or get out.” 

“I will- I am- we needed you today- and you were just-” She flapped her hands around uselessly. “Sitting in this office-” One of her hands came down, pointing a very aggressive finger your way. “Jess told me everything about you. I’ll go public.” 

Threatening you. Trish Walker was threatening you. And you didn’t even know what for. Slowly you put your hands down on the desk and stood. “Can you tell me what any of this is about? Why are you mad at me? Did it not go well?” 

“We needed you! No! It didn’t go well.” Mocking you as she dared to get closer. “Because you’re too selfish to do anything but-”

You put your hand straight up. “I’m gonna stop you right there. Whatever Jessica told you about my involvement in all this-”

“She didn’t need to tell me anything-”

“No. I’m talking now.” Firm and strong, shutting her down in seconds. “You think it benefits me in any way that what happened today didn’t end with Kilgrave locked up somewhere? Do you? Do you have two single brain cells to rub together to think logically for just a second? Or do you just let your anger pull you around from point a to point b like your sister?” 

Her face scrunched up. “How dare you. You don’t know anything-”

“I know a hell of a lot more than you. Let me let you in on this secret Jessica is hiding from you: she didn’t want me involved.” 

That seemed to blow up her whole tirade, shoulders drooping, awash in a freezing bath of stupor very quickly. “That can’t- that doesn’t make sense- why would- with what you can do? Why would she tell you to not get involved?” 

“Ask her. I wanted to make a plan with her. She boxed me out. So if she fucked this up, that’s on her. I warned her.” You’d sponged up all the anger she’d walked in with. Jessica had fumbled the plan. Kilgrave was now free and now possibly knew everyone was on to him. Fucking fantastic. “It does nothing for me that she screwed this up. Kilgrave will come after me just as easily as he will her.” 

She shook her head. “But you can do something- you’re an Avenger for Christ’s sake!” Practically whining at this point. Deciding to not let her views be challenged and instead double down that this was all your fault. 

Hey, something else she shared in common with her sister. “What would you do if you were me?” 

“What?” Blinking at you. Dumbfounded. 

“Tell me. What should my plan be? What should I be doing?” 

“You could’ve- today you could’ve-” 

“Jessica told me to stay out of it. Try again.” Staring her down. You were so tired of this. 

“-even still- you can- you can go get him- you can- can’t you get your people to go after him?” 

An exasperated and perhaps overly dramatic sigh escaped you. “This- again? You tell me Jessica told you everything about me and you threaten to go public yet you really don’t see the repercussions of sending the Avengers to go-” You really had just about had it with this whole thing. “JARVIS pull up penthouse footage of event CA1.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

The TV on your wall flashed on, thankfully no sound. But it still was too painful to watch. Steve advancing on you. Throwing you around like a rag doll. Getting atop you. Trish stood there in horrified silence, holding her arms together. “I didn’t know…” 

“I know you didn’t. I’m tired of explaining myself. You’re about as much on the same page with Jessica as I am. Which is just barely.” There was probably a reason for it. She was probably telling half-truths and keeping people at arm’s length as a way to protect them from Kilgrave. But that really wasn’t working out for you. So you had no reason to defend that ideal right then. “I wanted to help. She told me no. And apparently she gets final say. So yes. I was here today while she bumbled something really important. And if you wanna go blame somebody for that, go yell at her.” 

She couldn’t seem to hold your gaze. Not surprising. She shook her head again. “I just- I want this to be over.” Despite her not looking at you, you kept the roll of your eyes at bay. “I’m sorry- for coming like this- it was a rash decision- but I’m tired of everyone getting hurt.” 

“And for some reason you think I’m not.” 

“I said I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry. I just thought… if anyone had a chance to end this… it’s you.” Finally she found the courage to level her gaze with yours. She was completely deflated. Defeated. You hoped she hadn’t come a long way because this had only lasted about five minutes. Pathetic at best. 

“Tell Jessica that.” 

And just as quickly as it came, her gaze dropped again. “I will.” Determined at the very least. You supposed that was something. Without a goodbye (not that you needed or even wanted one) she turned to go back to the door. When she opened it, Tony leaned half in, hand on the handle. Impeccable timing. Or acting. But it was her shock that really sealed the deal for you. “Oh- you’re- I thought you were-” 

“Nice to see you again, Ms. Walker. Happy will escort you off the property.” Dry tone with an expression to match as he gestured with his arm extended. 

So. Jessica had apparently told Trish everything. So Trish thought. But what was really going on was that she’d told Trish probably just enough. Because Jessica didn’t trust anyone. Probably for good reason. Kilgrave could get his hands on anyone, and had already gone after Trish once. You wondered now what she told me everything even meant. What did Trish think she knew? When she didn’t even know Tony was still here? 

Better question- what was Jessica still hiding from you that could be important? 

Flashbacks of Fury’s voice started buzzing in an angry loop. 

It’s called compartmentalization. Nobody spills the secrets because nobody knows them all.

Tony shut the door finally and was in the middle of crossing the office to come over to you when your growl surprised the both of you. “You know-” 

“So. I take it that went well.” Stopping just in front of you, putting his hands on your arms, soothing them up and down. 

“Fury would have loved Jessica Jones.” You doubted it. He probably would have hated her. Because she acted just like him. Bitter, jaded, and held everything close to the vest, even to everyone else’s detriment. 

His brows lifted. “That’s very telling. Also makes sense why you two can’t seem to get along.” 

An annoyed yet amused huff of a laugh escaped you. “Yeah. I guess it does.” 

How did the same exact shit keep replaying in your life over and over and over? What had you done to deserve it? 

                                                     ---

While you could have called Jessica to demand to know what was going on, you decided to wait on her. Probably a bad idea. It was likely she’d gotten an earful from Trish by now about what had happened. The very brief but bitter conversation the two of you had had. If it could even be called a conversation. Maybe she was just figuring out what to say. 

But two days waiting on a phone call was a long time. Maybe she wouldn’t call at all. If you had to guess, she might have had a mind to try and just fix all of this herself without ever involving you again. It would be better than facing that she’d fucked up, right? She was probably getting it from all sides. And… some part of you understood she was probably her harshest critic right now. Something you understood very well, in fact. 

Still. Waiting or not, your cell phone ringing very early in the morning- almost just as you’d sat down at your desk- startled you. 

It wasn’t Jessica’s number waiting for you. It was unknown. Except you knew exactly who it was. 

Yet still, you answered it. “Hello, puppy.” Just as soon as those two words hit the air, a message popped up on your computer screen. LUNA’s silent voice: Tapping line… 

“What do you want?” You held yourself strong but not necessarily steady. As long as you could keep your voice tight, maybe your sudden shaking wouldn’t translate. 

“Is that any way to greet your master?” To this you said nothing. Sat in the quiet. “I just wanted to check up on you. I was very… let’s call it intrigued to see your lack of involvement in Jones’ little escapade the other day. Don’t tell me luck is finally favoring me. Have you gone soft? Do you miss me? Couldn’t bring yourself to attack an innocent man on the street enjoying coffee? Now that’s the puppy I know.” 

This was an attempt to weed information out of you. And you couldn’t let it happen. It would be easy to tell him you had nothing to do with that- like you had Trish. It would be easy to tell him that Jessica didn’t want you involved. But that would help him, to know that the two of you were having problems working together. It was what he wanted. 

Instead you did something much stupider. “Why don’t you come get me and find out?” 

His laughter was soft and twisted. “Now now… let’s not rush a good thing. Though I do so love to hear how eager you are to come home again. I’ll go first- I have missed you. I’ve learned so much, in our time apart. Yet no matter how much I try to learn about you… it’s fascinating I’m being blocked at every turn.” 

“Do you have anything interesting to say? Or are you just gonna dime-store-villain monologue at me for another ten minutes? Because I gotta tell you, I have a shareholder’s meeting coming up that’s way more important than you.” Bait. Just bait him along. ...and make him angry. 

“Does anyone even know anything about you? Stark, I wouldn’t wonder…” He hummed a noise of thought. “Well. All in time, I suppose. I’ll learn everything there is to know. And I won’t be denied this time.” 

“Try it. You know where I am.” Your vision was tunneling. Sweat was leaking from your forehead. Your chest felt so heavy it might collapse. 

“Patience, my puppy. All I ask for is patience. I’ll pick you up from the pound. In due time. When you least expect it. That’s how all adoptions go, don’t they? The mutts think no one will ever come for them. Until one day…”

The room was shaking. Your voice suddenly was lost to you. It was like you’d been thrust just a few odd inches outside of your own body. A wall between you and any cognitive functions. Just sitting there. Going pale. 

He laughed again. “We’ll be together soon, puppy. I promise.” 

As he hung up information popped on your screen. The private number that didn’t belong to him. The service provider. A name you didn’t recognize. The address it was registered to. The phone type associated with. The store it came from. When it had been purchased- all useless information. He’d just told someone on the street to give him their phone. What was the point of any of it? You couldn’t track him.

It didn’t matter. Your eyes glazed over as the data came in. 

“JARVIS- call- I need-” 

Had you been hyperventilating the entire time? Had Kilgrave heard you panting for breath just from listening to him talk? Fireflies were swaying in your vision. 

“Ma’am, I’ve called Mr. Stark for you- please try to-” His voice warped and faded out past the shrieking in your ears.  

Feeling suffocated, like the desk was pressing against you hard enough to crack your ribs, you instinctively pushed back and jumped to stand. 

The lights went out almost immediately. But still that half inch outside your body, somehow you were able to put your hands- over your own hands- and pilot your body. Half crunched over the desk, palms flat. You kept yourself from falling. By ghosting over yourself.

 A truly strange experience. Like your own angel over your shoulder. Just holding on. Keeping yourself upright… until Tony came through the door. As soon as his hands touched over your shoulder it was like being pulled through a keyhole. Sucked down a drain. Everything released and you just barely heard his voice.

 Honey… Hard to tell if you were hearing his voice internally or just on the cusp of your consciousness- which returned briefly in that moment. You still couldn’t breathe. Honey- His mouth was moving. His voice was muffled. His hand was at your back, prompting you to sit in your chair.

 I’ve got you…

 Weakly, after just barely collapsing into it, you reached up and his hand took hold of yours. Giving you a physical line to focus on. To clamp down on. His presence slowly filtered out all the other noise. He was still hard to hear but part of you knew he was trying to talk you through breathing.

You just… didn’t own your body yet. Kilgrave wasn’t even there and he still had the ability to take it away from you. Yet… at least not completely, anymore. Even if you didn’t fully understand what had just happened.

[gothamdetected-a]

ptsd.

this is hard for me to talk about as i have in the past experienced trauma and this year ive had more traumatic events happen to me and been diagnosed with ptsd since 16, but i want to share my experience through bruce bc im a self-channeling ho. this is not from a medical standpoint, and is purely based around my own experiences. 

it’s funny how trauma changes you. things that you thought were fundemental truths about who you are and what your personality is go completely out of the window. you have to try and pick apart what is you and what is the trauma. bruce is so young when it happens that i don’t think he can remember a before. his whole life is shaped by his parents death, but more than that, so is his personality. as a result he has a very poorly defined sense of self - it becomes easy to create versions of bruce wayne that are appropriate for the moment (the playboy, the ceo, the father, the batman), but if you were to try and find out who he thinks he is, i don’t think he would know. for so long he is consumed by anger and trauma that it eradicates the bruce he was before, and prevents a normal identity from forming. 

bruce gets traumatic nightmares that do not wane with time. he is still vividly reliving that night 40 years later as he is the night after it happens. they never stop and they never go away. bruce chooses not to sleep. he sleeps minimally, forces his body to go days longer without sleep, uses caffeine and the adrenaline of patrol. people worry that he doesn’t sleep enough, and while it is justified, it is a purposeful choice he makes, to avoid hearing the gunshot, seeing the blood on his hands, feeling the tears stinging his cheeks. his kids know, and don’t mention it often. they’ve all been witness to bruce’s nightmares at some point or another, have climbed into bed with him and clung to him, calming, just like he does for them when their nightmares strike. bruce never stays the night anywhere but the manor unless he absolutely has to. he can not risk any one else seeing or hearing him scream in his sleep, an inherent weakness. the control he has while conscious disappears when he sleeps, and that to him is dangerous.  

he used to have anxiety attacks, not panic, not fight or flight, but the slow crushing fear, tightening in his throat, making his heart thud too hard in his rib cage, the memory flooding back, the terror that it is happening again. sometimes he doesn’t even know why his body is breaking down,  he masters control over it like he does everything in his life, and after his training he stops having them. he literally forces his body not to react. one the bad days, the anniversary, christmas etc, his control slips a little and he has to retort to meditation, but most of the people in his life would never know that he had ever had an anxiety disorder still does have one. 

outside of the family, no one knows about any of it, and even then it is not something that is talked about. bruce shrugs it off. many people mistake the way he behaves as parts of his “personality”, when in reality they are symptoms of what he experienced. distrust, pessimism, cynicism, emotional distance. he can’t show affection. can’t let people near. he protects himself by hiding away, mentally. really bruce is still that nine year old kid, crying in a rain-slick alley over the bodies of his dead parents. he did not grow up and move on, trauma made sure of that. 

it also helps him become the bat. there is never any doubtin bruce’s mind that he might die,, and he is completely at peace with that. he is incredibly self sacrificing, and alfred knows it is the manifestation of dangerous and reckless behaviour, but waynes are very stubborn when they want to be, and there’s no stopping him. there are many many occasions where bruce is happy to throw himself in the path of a bullet, if just to prevent one more person from experiencing what he went through.

[antoine-roquentin]

The readers who don’t know Bruce either via his writing or his acquaintance have missed out on a truly extraordinary man of letters. In the future, radicals will hopefully look at his bibliography for study and instruction on how journalism and political analysis with a progressive edge is done right. If it comes to pass that he be ignored completely, a common practice for the white supremacist press, or that his corpus be managed in a fashion that presents an untrue representation of his politics, something that has happened to W.E.B. Du Bois and James Baldwin, the entirety of American journalism would be poorer for it.

If Bruce’s legacy were solely defined by his writings, it would be worthy of legendary status. Here was a former member of the Black Panther Party who followed the familiar trajectory into the Democratic Party, rising so high in Chicago politics that he attended the wedding of Barack and Michelle Obama. But unlike so many others, he broke with American liberalism, writing over the past decade-plus a tell-all account of the machine that told no lies and claimed no easy victories. This itself is one of the masterpieces of 21st century whistle blower muckraking, a project that causes much discomfort to so many of his peers in American progressive circles precisely because he was not informed by a dogmatic sectarianism that fuels many a Lefty in American letters. In all my years reading his words, I never once came across a sentence that drew a kooky, quasi-Talmudic analogue from the Russian revolution or a canonized saint of the radical litany. Rather than shout from atop barricades about dead Lefties and their antique theories, he spoke in a distinctly African American cadence about why he saw no hope for the Democratic Party and the efforts of its tame Progressive caucus.

But he was so much more than just a whistleblower that spilled dirty secrets about liberal imperialism. His essays on culture, such as the contrarian movie review of Marvel’s Black Panther film or his polemic about the pitfalls within radical organizing spaces under the headings of “intersectionality” and “Afro-pessimism,” were antidotes to the banality of standard radical journalism even when you disagreed with him. His championship of the Green Party, a cause many others thought to be Quixotic verging on madness, gave bravery and stamina to many in the past five years, including this author. And that was because both of these were buttresses to his activism and organizing. He put shoes on the pavement to make these things more than just pontification. As he was slowly dying in the past several years, he continued to be a street fighter for liberation, taking the road less traveled (and certainly less popular) in order to change the world for the better. While his comrade and collaborator Glen Ford at Black Agenda Report continues the more didactic Leninist-derived style of polemic, Bruce embraced a plainspoken lilt that might be misconstrued by superficial readers as having less political maturity. But when placed properly in the spectrum of African American nonfiction literature reaching back to the slave narratives of the antebellum period, the true proletarian memoirs of this hemisphere, he shines among the pantheon of greats because of his bold bravery, speaking truth to power rather than selling out.

I would merely add that my limited time speaking with him on the phone recently was one that left me with a smile. Speaking about a Green Party project, he quickly divulged that he was dying of cancer. What made that quick aside memorable, however, was that he did so in the form of a very good joke! His entire approach was laced with humor! When you encounter someone that handles their mortality with a whoopie cushion, you know that the world is a little dimmer because they are gone.

When we talk about lithium, we usually think about its applications in healthcare as an antidepressant. But there’s another property of lithium we don’t think about. It’s an element that is so volatile it begins to spark and crackle as it hits the atmosphere. You need to store lithium in an emulsion of oil because contact with the air will cause a chemical reaction. That’s what Bruce Dixon’s writing is like. Reading him makes your brain feel like it has been lit on fire by a righteous element.

This merely skims the surface of a truly astonishing life and fails to acknowledge many more dimensions that are beyond my own capacity to articulate. In the coming days and weeks others will do this far better than I could ever attempt.

Here we syndicate words of his friend and comrade Tony Ndege of the North Carolina Green Party (NCGP).

It is with a very heavy heart that I bring to you the news of Bruce Dixon’s passing this afternoon at approximately 2:30pm. Many of you may not have had the pleasure of knowing Bruce. However those who did, are aware of his indelible influence on so many of us in NCGP. He had been battling a form of blood cancer for several years.

Bruce was a co-editor of Black Agenda Report and long-time GA Green Party cochair. He is most recently well-known for making the prophetic term Democrat “sheepdog” popular- particularly among those of us disaffected with the duopoly.

Bruce had a biting wit, razor sharp sense of humor and tremendous passion for challenging all of our notions. At his best Bruce was a tremendous writer who made fearless critics of various left issues that almost no one else of his prominence was bold enough to make and he always did so with a no-nonsense, plain-speak bravado.

I became interested in Bruce Dixon and Glen Ford’s strong take downs of President Obama’s policies around the time of the 2012 DNC protests in Charlotte NC. I was hungry at the time for hearing a strong radical black critique of Obama. Many of us who felt the same way felt quite isolated in our criticisms, even among the Left – particularly as Obama’s reelection approached. Bruce played a role in changing our perspectives and confidence in our views. He was also a catalyst in getting me involved in the NCGP when he asked me to help with a tour of Jill Stein in Fall of 2015. His talks about party organizing along with Howie Hawkins helped to inspire NCGP make the correct decision to become a dues paying membership-based party.

For this reason and many many more we thank you Bruce!

Rest In Power Friend.

[brucenat]

I find Bruce and Natasha fans are so pessimistic, if Marvel wanted to finish with their relationship they would have already done it. Avengers Endgame will last 3 hours, and don't even see Hulk, Marvel wants to keep Hulk and Bruce and Natasha for surprise .

Hello lovely!

Marvel is definitely in support of Bruce & Natasha’s relationship. It wasn’t something Joss Whedon made up willy-nilly and they’re running with it. You’re right–they would’ve ended it already if they didn’t want that relationship in there. It would’ve been so easy to exclude the reunion scene in IW.

It also makes sense why we haven’t seen any Bruce & Natasha interaction in the new Endgame trailers. The movie isn’t about them, their relationship is a romantic subplot, and Endgame has a lot of other things on its plate.

So I get where you’re coming from! I also understand the pessimism though–I think a lot of Brucenat fans are preparing themselves for the worst, so if something good does come out of Endgame they’ll be pleasantly surprised. That pessimism stems from a lot of places, but two of the major sources are the guaranteed misery awaiting in Endgame and the outspoken sideline collective that beats down the Bruce/Natasha relationship.

If you want my personal take on the matter (which you might not, and that’s totally fair), my Endgame pessimism is more general and stems from personal discrepancies with the Russos’ directing style and the writing of Markus and McFeely. I will still absolutely watch Endgame, probably enjoy it, definitely cry a ton, but it’s highly unlikely to be my favorite Marvel movie (or even rank in my favorites). As for Bruce & Natasha, I’m hoping for a moment of happiness between the two, where they light up each other’s worlds, even if only for a brief while.

Thank you for the message! I’m sorry if my response wasn’t super satisfactory, but my inbox is always open for questions, comments, etc. :)

[inappropriatefangirlneeds]

Gotham s5ep2 “Trespassers” Personal Review

“Maybe there's still good people left in Gotham.”   “Some say the darker angels of our nature are unlocked and set free.”  Warning spoilers below   

JIM GORDON  Mainland wants the GCPD to do nothing in the case of the children. “Your dedication to your job is admirable, Captain, but you lack perspective.” Jim Gordon says he needs supplies not opinions but Mainland says, nope. They won´t risk pilots (theirs or Wayne Enterprise´s). “So you can save a few lives for thousands, but I can't?”  Touché. Jim got a point there.  HARVEY BULLOCK * Shows some (un)healthy pessimism.  “IF we get back.” / “Check out the basement in a creepy hotel by myself? Sure. What could go wrong, right?” * Still has the best lines: “Why would anyone be a cop in a world like this?” “Well, the Halloween shop was all out of gas masks, so it was either this or sexy nurse.”  * “Oh, my God. Oh. Not good. Oh, God. This This is not good.” And after having swiped through the teeth he still picks up the severed finger that is obviously a severed finger. Honey, what are you doing? The LOGERQUIST HOTEL Scene was awesome. Some reminiscence to earlier season, a side quest that gives you break from the greater mess. More please. > It´s just awesome that they just pulled the leaver and let them slide into a campy/classy horror. You just have to scream at the screen. Don´t leave the kids alone! Don´t split up! Don´t trust the other kid! How about you go for the lamps and try to destroy them instead of banging the door! (Harvey Bullock smashing the windows was a clever moment though, gotta give him that)  Just the whole atmosphere of that set alone. Love!  > This showed actual detective work and brought the plot and chara points of the macrocosm into  this microcosm  !!!!!!! It´s not only Harvey Bullock being weary of being sent into the basement (what could go wrong) that ties back to him not being keen to be shot standing next to Jim because Jim got the bounty on his head. It´s going right for the lingering pessimism that Harvey has been expressing (If we get back..) and him lecturing Jim that Jim´s methods (not killing Penguin) aren´t the right way for the mess they are in.  They have Harvey Bullock being so perceptive to point out the lit candle right away. “Jim, we're not alone. Someone lit that candle. “ To which JIM GORDON reacts with HOPE!    “In the old west, settlers used to leave a candle burning to lead others to safety. Maybe there's still good people left in Gotham.”  He´s not only playing the same record that he played the whole last episode (and I´m not shading him there, his attitude is great in that situation, otherwise what would there be left but despair for him and everyone else) but he´s also referencing HISTORY .. and I vaguely remember that this is not the first time he did that [[DOES AYONE have a better memory than I do? PLS tell me]] which brings back memories of early Jim Gordon that solves cases and Ed´s riddles. They at the same time concede hope a victory, they get to save the two kids and Gabriel but Jim Gordon has to leave the other boy behind: “Not everyone wants your help, Jim Gordon.”  IVY PEPPER   “The plants came to my protection. “ Ivy, how about you asked them to stop. “But this park ever since we were cut off from the rest of the world, it's been behaving differently. There are things growing here I have never seen before.” Okay fucks sake, I so hope that this is not true. First we get Ivy magically aged then we get Ivy stealing some potion aka none of her love for plants and research and experiments that I wanted to see and now she should be afraid of them even? How about no?! Okay, I´m glad they didn´t go there. “You know, I wasn't lying when I said this park is changing.I'm feeding the earth with these wretched creatures. It consumes them, and then it flourishes.”  >> Okay I can´t say that I like the “Ivy is a maniacal, cold-blooded killer.” but the mere suggestion of Ivy being intimidated and patronized by her plants scared me enough to be happyish about it. I´d still like to see her be just with her plants. Bring back her mushroom farm! Scratch all that murder business she had going on with Gotham and its people. Give her some space and place to care about her plants and learn more about them and okay if someone disturbs them or tries to harm them, and then bring out the murder. Maybe it might go into a direction like that now..... ?  Ivy more and more retreating into the branches of that tree, while talking to Bruce got me intrigued. “Where I'm going is none of your business. Best hurry. That root will die if left out in the open for too long.” Her being so mysterious, and ambiguous about if she can be trusted suits her. Much, much more than a snarly direct threat of murder.  She is her own entity, that does as she pleases and everything else if left to wonder what that might be! That would be a good attitude. QUESTION:  “One thing is for sure though the seed will alter her forever.” “How?” “Some say the darker angels of our nature are unlocked and set free.” So this “some say” does not sound like a general statement about the nature of humanity it does sound like some people talk about the effects of this particular plant on humans. Which begs the question: Who says this? The plants? Do they whisper to her? Is it meant indirectly as in the research she did told her that? Or are there actually other people with knowledge over matters like this? Are there records, writings, research with footnotes? Did Ivy read them? Did she do her own experiments. Who or what is this referring to. I need answers!! 

Also: Ivy is so ridiculously overpowered in this show, how the hell did those guys manage to lock her up? Also2: Is the guys story about them coming for their magic and getting killed true? Ivy at first  helping people? After all the nurse knew about her and thought she would help? Was she kind and people got greedy, demanded too much, wanted to take advantage of her? Then again she was not known as the helpful fairy but as witch, so there might have been something that got her that reputation .. but there also had to be something that got her a reputation as healer instead of solely being a murderous killer witch?  EDWARD NYGMA * How could he believe locking himself up would work if he just had the key in his pocket? This should have been some timed release system that didn´t give him access to the key until after a couple of hours. * Uhm, can TANK from the Street Demonz gang please stick around. I like him. I like those two together. That´s fun. “Did I, uh hit you, et cetera? Any idea why?” * Okay so sleepwalking or for him rather wakewalking Ed has orchestrated the demise of the Street Demonz in order to get some more chaos and war and likely Oswald´s head? Great. * “How did I seem? Was I confident, flamboyant, charisma for days? Or a little more conservative, kind of repressed, a little nerdy?” “You seemed stiff, man of few words. In a daze, actually.” “Interesting.” * “Well, whoever did just started one hell of a war.” Tank can you please stick around, I need a rough biker that gets to the heart of things like that on Eds side.   PREDICTION? Oswald put a bounty on Jim Gordan´s head. The criminals want to kill him. “Edward” likely put an indirect bounty on Oswald Cobblepot´s head, ciminals will want to kill them. However it seems Barbara Kean makes this situation less equal with protecting Jim Gordon from criminals and tightening the thumb screws on him in order to get Jim to kill Oswald. It just seems everyone´s best bet is to go get rid of Oswald right now. And I´m gonna be disappointed if Oswald doesn´t change back to his clever self and manipulate the situation in a way that ties his and Jim´s life back together  … SET DESIGN Yes this is a character on its own and it´s marvelous. * The Wallpaper in Edward Nygma´s bathroom is pretty. * Is that a can of beer on the window still next to Tank in the bathtub?? * Damn every place Ivy stays at is just eerie, beautiful and just stunning. * The halls of Logerquist Hotel are awesome and the perfect atmosphere. FunFact: John Logerquist founded Gotham in 1635 

* Someone had a field trip with the LIGHTNING [Edit: Link]  in this. First the bright lights in the conversation with Barbara Kean and Jim Gordon in the Sirens club, then the Lightning used as weapon  at the hotel. This all should be super obnoxious, like glaring out a charas whole face during a dialogue .. what .. but it all just works, and works really well. Damn.  Honorary mention: The light bulb and welding sparks 11:40 * Those safe houses that Lucius Fox set up looked like a dream again. Just like Lee with that train, or Jim visiting the retired Carmine. I just wait for someone to wake up, shatter the bubble, destroy the niceness. It slightly creeps me out every time they do that.   * “What do I do, just swallow it?” Okay Bruce Wayne should have told SELINA KYLE everything that Ivy said about that thing. This is not an informed medical decision: Me not moving vs. probably not me but moving is a relevant thing to know. Not that I think it would change anything for Selina, but they should have laid open all the information and it bugs me. It might kill you is just half of the story. It might change who you are even if it works is a significant thing to know about. * GABRIEL I literarily can´t believe he is still alive. That´s the kind of character that usually has the shortest shelf life. * Also how beautifully phrased was Bruce Wayne´s initial distrust towards Ivy is. “You'll forgive me if I find it hard to do so.” * “God, what have I done” Acting on point, acting over all point, acting is said point .. * “I'll tell you what! I'll take his head, and you can have the rest of him!” I giggled. (Context: He doesn´t need more than Jim´s head to collect the bounty from Penguin)

[janiedean]

Grrr you're bad because I say so and I send you evil things on anon now gimme the Bruce

OKAY THEN SURE, as I have ranted about it that time I did The Price You Pay and I think we can’t go ahead that much with this Series Of Analyses if we don’t deal with The Following, I present you…

The Promised Land is song number six on Darkness on the Edge of Town, Bruce’s fourth record, the Infamous Darker Record Than Born To Run Which Is A Total Masterpiece and where you could start to see the pessimism show up. Staple of his live shows and of 80% of his themes when it comes to redemption, this Is One Of Bruce’s Most Definitive Songs and therefore you need to be aware of it if you want to Understand Bruce. 

Therefore, we can start right with that amazing harmonica opening that brings us right into the action and opens with a bang - count that in the record it comes immediately after Racing in the Street ie a slower, sadder song about two people failing to achieve their american dream, so this sounds like a total kick, after.

Also, I admittedly can’t stop about how some idiot on jezebel once said this song was MISOGYNIST BECAUSE ONLY MEN GET TO THE PROMISED LAND so sorry I’ll have a go at it. Ready?

On a rattlesnake speedway in the Utah desert I pick up my money and head back into town Driving cross the Waynesboro county line I got the radio on and I’m just killing time Working all day in my daddy’s garage Driving all night, chasing some mirage Pretty soon little girl I’m gonna take charge.

So: first-person narrator - not unusual, as we’ve seen. This guy is driving a car (again: key Bruce imagery) on a speeday (highway which usually always = freedom in Bruce songs), going back into town through the Utah desert, which suggests he lives there and in a small town, and from what I know about Utah, a small town in there is exactly the kind of place a guy might want to leave if he doesn’t like it/feels constricted in his role.

Again, he’s killing time with the radio on (so he wastes a lot of time doing nothing) and he works all day in his daddy’s garage so he’s taking over his father’s job and doesn’t want to (like the guy from Adam raised a Cain to about most other people in Bruce songs same as he might have if he hadn’t become a musicians even if he hated his father’s job) and then he chases some mirage driving all night, which means he hates his life, hates his job, has a dream to get out and lives a life he doesn’t feel satisfied in.

But, differently from a lot of Bruce narrators, he wants to take charge and (same as a lot of Bruce narrators) he’s talking to a girl he likes trying to convince her of that (same as Thunder Road):

The dogs on main street howl, ‘cause they understand, If I could take one moment into my hands Mister, I ain’t a boy, no, I’m a man, And I believe in a promised land. 

We can assume that Main Street is the main road in his town, which is full of dogs howling (= suffering) because they don’t understand (what? Him? His life? His desires? Are we talking about dogs or the people living with him who don’t get that he needs to be out? Maybe so), and if he could take one moment into his hands then he could have one moment of being in control of his life and bust out of there, implying he hasn’t had it until now.

Now, again, he’s talking to a mister (like the guy in The River), so presumably someone higher class than he is, and he says that he’s a man (ie a grown man, not a **man** as the jezebel person thought lmao) rather than a boy who still buys into fairytales, which should give us the context that he assumes the listener would make fun of him, for -

Believing in a promised land, which in this case means believing in getting out of his town for a better life, but could be anything. All of us have a metaphorical promised land to go back to - and MIND THE BIBLICAL METAPHOR STRIKING AGAIN after Adam Raised a Cain - two songs in one record! (For now, lol.)

I’ve done my best to live the right way I get up every morning and go to work each day But your eyes go blind and your blood runs cold Sometimes I feel so weak I just want to explode Explode and tear this town apart Take a knife and cut this pain from my heart Find somebody itching for something to start

So, we learn more about this guy: that he’s done his best to live the right way ie how people think is the appropriate way, going to every morning each day when he hates his job because that’s how he’s supposed to, and doing that one’s eyes go blind and blood runs cold, ie he can’t see anymore and he feels like he’s dying inside, to the point where he feels so weak he wants to explode, ie he has so much pent-up rage it’s not even funny, still because he’s boxed in a position he hates being in.

To the point that not only he wants to explode, he wants to also tear his town apart as he does for how much he hates it, but even worse, he wants to take a knife and cut his pain from his heart, which is an extremely graphic way of saying he wants his pain torn off him violently while finding someone itching for something to start, ie he wants to be with someone who doesn’t revel in routine and doing the same thing he hates all the time but who’s itching ie feeling pained same as him to bust out and find something better and close this chapter of his life.

Also: he really hates his fucking town, and again we have the refrain in which he reiterates the above sentiment, before the song slows slightly, goes into a sax solo that’s way more upbeat than what the text suggests, and then breaks out again in the fast harmonica solo from the beginning before bringing us to the conclusion that goes back to the usual tempo, which gives us a fair idea of how the protagonist feels in turmoil. 

There’s a dark cloud rising from the desert floor I packed my bags and I’m heading straight into the storm Gonna be a twister to blow everything down That ain’t got the faith to stand its ground Blow away the dreams that tear you apart Blow away the dreams that break your heart Blow away the lies that leave you nothing but lost and brokenhearted

Now: NATURE IMAGERY!

First thing: we have a dark cloud rising from the desert floor (not a good imagery if you think of the dust bowl/the dust storms from the great depression which is kind of what this is suggesting), and our guy is heading straight into the storm after packing his bags, which means that he’s willing to suffer through whatever is into the dark cloud as long as he walks out of it. And he’s heading STRAIGHT into it, which means he has no doubt about it whatsoever.

So, there’s going to be a twister blowing everything that doesn’t have the faith to stand its ground, ie that dark cloud will literally wipe out of the map everything/everyone who isn’t strong enough to stand up for themselves/what they want, so it’ll do away with his town, main street, the father’s garage and everyone who has resigned themselves to just stay there instead of going out looking for their dream.

And then we go into the advice: blow away the dreams that tear you apart as in ignore and do away with all the dreams that aren’t achievable and leave torn in two, but also the ones that break your heart ie the ones that will leave you sad and suffering because they can’t come true, and the lies that leave you nothing but lost and broken hearted, which means that you also have to leave behind you every lie you’ve been told (you can’t have a job that’s not your father’s, you need to live in the town where you were born, you’ll never get out of here in his case at least) that leaves you lost ie without a place and broken hearted ie sad and suffering, and as you do that -

Then you can embrace that you’re a man who wants his promised land and believes in it 100% and who’ll do everything in his realistic power to obtain it. Do we know if he manages? No. Do we know if he even starts getting there? Not really. Do we know he tried? Yes. Has he given us great advice?

Yes, because that’s kind of pretty much what our guy did to get where he is/where he was at that point and that is relatable to all of us even if we don’t live in the Utah desert, but all of us have a promised land we want to reach and all of us might want to use every possible chance we have of getting it without the dreams that tear us apart and break our heart stopping us. And that’s why this Is A Staple Bruce Song and you can’t get him without it and that’s why all of us should try to follow the advice in the end, imvho, but what have you ;)

[twicetolivetwicetodie]

4x22 “Think Fast”

Wow. What an episode. Let’s dig into it. 

That opening scene was insane. It was yet another instance highlighting just how terrifying DeVoe is. He singlehandedly took out an ARGUS facility, murdered almost everyone in it. I think that ARGUS scientist was the only survivor? I am still shook that he turned the ARGUS agents he had already killed into zombies and had them kill their coworkers. All while listening to Handel’s “Hallelujah”. The soundtrack made the scene even more chilling. I am super offended that he used Diggle’s face to get into ARGUS. You leave him out of this, DeVove! 

The Harry and Iris scenes were an absolute delight. I can’t get enough of them. That is a relationship I didn’t know I needed to see. It also seems like they’ve switched roles in a way? Iris was more interested in the facts of the situation and taking actions and Harry was thinking more on the emotional side of things. It was a very interesting role reversal that worked really well. It broke my heart to hear Harry say that he didn’t feel useful anymore. But Iris’s compassion and understanding of people, and her including Harry in her search for Marlize, helped him realize, and reiterating what Cecile has said to him before “There is more than one way to be intelligent.” 

Iris’s anger over Marlize. I was right there with her! Yes, Iris technically stabbed herself, but I still view it as Marlize stabbing her, as she wouldn’t have been put in that situation in the first place had Marlize not cornered her with a katana. That wasn’t the main issue though, not even close. Marlize helped ruin Barry’s life in more ways than one, put him in prison which led to him losing his job. That is not something that is easy to forgive. So even though Harry had good intentions when he was trying to view things from Marlize’s point of view, I completely understand Iris’s anger with him at that moment. Her confrontation with Marlize was so good. Calling her out on her role in this and her current indifference to the Enlightenment. And this line “Pessimism isn’t smarter than optimism. In this life, the bravest thing you can be is optimistic.” I just...wow. I just really love that line. I love the parallels between Iris and Barry here, because the both of them together can inspire people to be and do better, and Iris really exemplified that in this episode. 

The Killer Frost development was an interesting one to say the least. I’m glad Caitlin finally went to therapy to discuss what’s going on with her. They should honestly have Dr. Finkle sign an NDA and hire her full time at this point. The diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder. This doesn’t surprise me, as it lines up with what we’ve seen in the past with Frost and Caitlin. Though this is an unfortunate trope in comic mediums I find? @barryandiriswest-allen posted about this, and how DID is very rare, but it seems to be fairly common in comic book mediums, I can name at least four Marvel characters with DID: Bruce Banner (Hulk), Marc Spector (Moon Knight), David Haller (Legion), and Mary Walker (Typhoid Mary), and I’m pretty sure there’s more. It was interesting how we got to hear Caitlin talk about her dad as she rarely mentions him so I’m curious as to how many memories of her father she’s suppressing. The childhood memory that we saw suggested that Killer Frost first appeared after what I’m assuming to be a response to her almost getting hit by a car as a child. I think that was her father’s voice in the flashback? They talked about how it was impossible that KF appeared before the particle accelerator explosion. Which isn’t true. We have seen metas whose powers have emerged in response to other events, it just hasn’t been that common as far as we know. Plus I imagine we will get more into the metagene next season with Dawn’s arrival. Barry and Iris will want to know if their children will inherit Barry’s speed. I was talking to @trashgaryen about this, and I kinda came up with a theory. Caitlin doesn’t talk about her father much. All she says is that he died of ALS and that he was a great dad, but she doesn’t really tell us many memories of him. What if Caitlin’s powers onset early, possibly as a result of the traumatic event of her almost getting hit by the car, and she accidentally killed her father? Maybe her mother covered it up to protect her. Possibly why her mom has a career in cryogenics? Not that I think any of this will actually pan out to be true, I’m just spitballing theories here. 

Barry and Cisco’s scenes were so important and emotional. I have missed them being bros and now they are finally opening up to each other, it was so good. I understand both Barry and Cisco’s side of the argument. Barry doesn’t want anyone else to die because of him. “Losing my two best friends? That’s the end of my world.” I don’t blame him for feeling that way at all. At this point, he blames himself for the deaths of twelve people. The look on his face when it was determined that they couldn’t save Fallout was heartbreaking. But Cisco’s argument was 100% correct. He can’t do this alone. Especially in that frame of mind. It broke my heart to hear, and I honestly expected this, that Cisco also blames himself for the deaths of the bus metas. But he’s been suppressing it for so long probably for the same reasons that Barry has been suppressing his feelings. There are two things that Barry said that are sticking with me. The first “I don’t need another therapist.” Ow? Is Barry ashamed that he has to see a therapist? And that he feels like he pushed Ralph too hard cause he wasn’t there. Now I read that as Barry blaming himself for being in prison, so yeah there are definitely more emotions he’s suppressing there. Barrisco angst. But it was needed and good Barrisco angst. Barry needed that reminder that he is not the only one to blame, and that he isn’t and never has been in this alone. Ugh the fact that Cisco blames himself for everything that has happened with DeVoe, that he might view it as him being selfish for wanting Barry back, and maybe he thinks he’s at fault for putting the city in danger for getting Barry out of the Speed Force? How much does Cisco blame himself for? He’s been suppressing this the entire time cause he’s worried about everyone else. That really parallels Barry and Cisco’s emotional arcs currently. Shelving their own emotional problems cause they consider the well being of others more important than their own psychological well-being. Ow that hurts.

Joe and Cecile’s scenes were really cute and endearing. It is really fascinating that Cecile’s powers have expanded now that she’s close to her due date. Her jumping into people’s minds and exhibiting other people’s personality traits was really funny. Joe being so worried about the baby! Oh my heart. His concerns are entirely valid though, what if supervillains attack the hospital while she’s giving birth and he has to protect them? If she goes into labor in the finale, which I’m expecting, he was right to be worried about it. 

I was starting to get really anxious towards the end there, especially after Barry destroyed the satellite and DeVoe didn’t seem all that concerned by it. I knew he had a backup plan. I was furious when he broke into the Time Vault and hijacked Time Vault Gideon. No one fucks with Gideon, you asshole! Barry’s face once he realized that DeVoe had won absolutely ruined me. 

So I definitely think all of this is going to lead into an anti-meta arc. This episode alone reaffirmed that for me. DeVoe breaks into a hi-tech ARGUS facility disguised as a respected ARGUS agent and easily dismantles their meta dampeners. He slaughters almost the entire facility, and takes hostages. It was particularly significant for me that even after Cisco reassured the ARGUS scientist that DeVoe was taken care of, she didn’t seem to trust him. DeVoe then uses STAR Labs satellites to replace the one Barry destroyed. That, in addition to the citywide panic that appears to be happening in the promo, that may result in civilian casualties, may cause the mayor to say “Enough is enough.” and draft anti-meta legislation. STAR will be hated again, though even though it wasn’t their fault, DeVoe still used their tech to kickstart the Enlightenment. 

Even though the finale will definitely cause my heart to race and probably traumatize everyone on Team Flash, I am ready for the happy part of the episode when Dawn reveals herself! 

[hgamesfan]

There is an old saying that true movie stardom is when a movie star can open a bad movie that has little to offer beyond said star power. Well, with the caveat that I liked Red Sparrow more than most of my peers, I think that may apply for Jennifer Lawrence. With the “eventually they will hate you” backlash in full swing, we should still note that Ms. Lawrence opened a poorly-reviewed, R-rated and not entirely commercial (it’s more Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy than Atomic Blonde) spy drama/erotic thriller to around $17.5 million this weekend.

That’s not a queen’s ransom, as Fox and friends spent $69 million on Frances Lawrence’s sprawling Russia-set spy tale. But the $6.025m Friday is decent, and unless you think Joel Edgerton is a “butts in the seats” movie star (obvious talent notwithstanding, he’s not), then every penny this one earns is to Lawrence’s credit as a would-be draw. The grim and gruesome spy flick, which has more nudity and violence than conventional action, is also the kind of flick that can play very well overseas, where the copious adult content won’t have European moviegoers clutching their pearls.

This isn’t a boffo win or anything, but considering my current pessimism concerning adult movies, I’m happy anytime anything like this doesn’t crash-and-burn. And considering this long and brutal drama may open about as well as the flashier and better-received Atomic Blonde must be encouraging both for Lawrence and for Fox’s long-term strategy of making big movies for adult moviegoers. We’ll see if this one has anything resembling legs or if it disproportionately breaks out overseas like so many other Fox biggies over the last decade.

[freehawaii]

HAS THE US OCCUPATION OF HAWAI`I WORKED?

Honolulu Civil Beat - May 14, 2020 - By Neal Milner

As far as Hawai`i is concerned, when it comes to dealing with coronavirus, Gov. David Ige is in a class by himself.

That class? Bottom of the barrel.

First, I’ll show you just how bad the governor looks on the COVID-19 issue.

But then I am going to show how this low rating is hardly about the virus at all. It is really about the decadence of Hawai`i’s politics.

According to a large national survey, no governor has a lower public approval rating for handling the virus than Ige does.

The average governor approval rating for handling the pandemic is 66%, compared to Trump’s 44%, and Ige’s rating of 39%.

Probably 12% of that 22% difference between the president and the average governor’s approval occurred during the last few weeks.

It’s unlikely that our governor has received any bump at all.

Unlike Hawai`i, Wisconsin and Michigan are contentiously partisan states with considerably higher coronavirus rates than Hawaii and where opposition to the respective governors has dwarfed anything here.

Yet the Michigan governor’s approval (63%) and Wisconsin’s (58%) are both far ahead of Ige.

Only 55% of people in Hawai`i feel that the state is doing a good job handling the situation. That’s the lowest percentage in the nation.

OK, that’s the surface side that leads you to focus on Ige’s pandemic incompetence. That focus on his virus performance is too narrow.

It’s hard to imagine that Governor Ige’s coronavirus pluses and minuses, goof-ups or successes are all that much different than what the other governors have done.

Ige is ranked so low on pandemic management because he is an avatar for a form of governing that’s as much a part of this state as shower trees and feral chickens.

It is also a form of government that the public now considers unworthy of its trust and support.

And there are data to prove it.

Ige’s 39% approval rating is nothing new. His approval rating has pretty much always lingered in the 30s — low and close to Trump’s. He’s also been rated the nation’s worst governor in the past.

It is a ceiling that the public is not willing to let him pass because the public has become so disaffected with Hawai`i’s state government as a whole.

A 2017 University of Hawai`i Center for Public Policy poll asked the question a different way, but with comparable results. Only 19% said Ige was doing an excellent or good job, while 36% rated his work as fair or poor.

But more significantly, in that same 2017 poll close to 40% said the state could seldom or never be trusted to do the right thing, and only 9% said that state government is run for the benefit of the people.

Now, think about the public’s take on the governor’s handling of the coronavirus crisis in terms of this pervasive sense that state government overall is a bumbling, stumbling, untrustworthy mess.

In other words, see the governor’s handling of the virus through the public’s lens of “same old, same old.”

That perception looks like this:

Of course the coronavirus response has been far from business-as-usual in so many ways.

But there also has been a kind of state government-esque, go-by-the book quality to it: we are moving cautiously; sticking to the protocols. The team is in place.

The masters of disaster. Sensible leaders doing sensible things.

At least that is the governor’s mantra. It’s also the mantra on steroids of Department of Health head Bruce Anderson, first in regard to testing and now contact tracing.

Sensible, sensible, everything is sensible.

Sensible — on the surface. But beneath the surface, where the public lives, it is not sensible at all, exemplifying just another day in the life of historically crappy state government. Worthy of our cynicism, not our approval.

As a result, it is easy to view the state’s failure to pay unemployment benefits on time as not simply a COVID-19 problem but rather as the tip of an iceberg of benefits mismanagement and technical infrastructure problems that have plagued Hawai`i forever.

Which, by the way, the governor promised to fix.

And boom! goes the cynicism.

It should not surprise us that there is such public disappointment and distaste for Hawai`i’s state government. Admit it, folks. What those polls show is the way you typically talk about it. And yet publicly we let “sensible” conceal this longstanding incompetence.

Hawai`i has a tepid sort of politics, low voter turnout, an extremely weak Republican Party and a sense among elites that politics is more about managing than mobilizing. The public’s basic disgust and discouragement get lost in this sensibleness shuffle.

An historically rooted combination of malaise, pessimism and being pissed off. People think about the Thirty Meter Telescope when they assess the governor’s coronavirus response.

Hawai`i has become decadent. That’s not the term most of us would use, but see how close Hawaii is to the way Ross Douthat describes decadence in his recent book.

Decadence, he says, “is a very active time, full of deep concerns, but peculiarly restless, for it sees no clear lines of advance. … Institutions function painfully. Repetition and frustration are the intolerable result.”

“When people accept futility and the absurd as normal,” Douthat goes on to say, “the culture is decadent.”

It’s impossible to transform a place if futility and absurdity are the norms.

Which is another way of describing why the public reacts so negatively to David Ige.

He did not create these norms, but in the public’s view, he certainly reflects and protects them.

There is a lot of talk about the need to transform Hawai`i in the pandemic’s aftermath. Fine, but understand that government is going to play a large role in this. Bad government, bad transformation.

So any kind of significant change is going to require a public level of confidence that futility and absurdity are no longer the best ways to describe Hawai`i’s government at work.`