#changed it back to BOTH because people were being pedantic in the tags I’m well aware guys I do have a SW icon after all

[accursedvoid]

*Battle of the Heroes intensifies*

[crackinglamb]

OTP Tag!

Tagged by @bitterotter​, thank you!  If anyone wants to do their own, feel free, just tag me back so I can see.

I’ll do this for Carly and Solas from Twist (which is going to be occasionally hilarious).  Have a free screenshot of the happy couple too, just because I love it when he has heart-eyes.

DISAGREEMENTS.

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Carly, for sure.  She’s got a reasonably long fuse, but when it’s up, it’s up.  She’s far more likely to blow her top with shouting. 

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?  Carly, again.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?  Solas has walked out to cool off a couple times.  His promise to her is that he will never walk away permanently.

Who trashes the house?  Okay, it was totally an accident...but it was Solas.

Do either of them get physical?  To date there has been a single instance of unintentional mind blast.  Went with the ‘trashing the house’.

How often do they argue/disagree?  Frequently at first.  Much less so now.

Who is the first to apologize?  Usually whoever was the first to start shit.

This is super long, so the rest is under the cut.

SEX.

Who is on top? Who is on bottom?  It depends on the mood, but it’s often Carly on top.  She’s tiny and it’s just more comfortable that way.  ‘Neither’ also applies, since Solas likes to jack her up against walls.

Any kinks?  *Carly blushes*  *Solas smirks*  Yes.  If you wants details, go read it.

Who has the strangest desires?  I think this one doesn’t apply.  Neither of them think the other has strange desires, it’s either that or they just line up well enough for them not to notice.

Who’s dominant in bed?  *Solas smirks again*  *Carly gently reminds everyone that the Dread Wolf is canonically a switch* (C’mon, it’s Solas in this relationship, was that a serious question?)

Is head ever in the equation? Yes.

If so, who is better at performing it? Solas.

Ever had sex in public?  If the rotunda counts, then yes.

Who moans the most?  Carly.

Who leaves the most marks?  Solas, by a mile.

Who is the more experienced of the two?  *snort*  The immortal Elvhen Fade-walker wins that without a doubt.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?  Yes.

How long do they usually last?  Depends on the mood.  Anywhere from a few minutes to hours.

Rough or soft?  Again, yes.

Is protection used?  Uh...spoilers?  Not anything conventional, no.

Does it ever get boring?  It hasn’t yet.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?  For Carly, it’s got to be in the Fade.  Solas has no comment.

FAMILY.

Do they plan on having children/or have children?  They have never discussed it.  But, Carly would like to have a family someday.

If so, how many children do they want/have?  At least one.

AFFECTION.

Who likes to cuddle?  Both.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?  Solas.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?  Neither.  They’ve agreed to keep things proper in public and have free rein in private.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?  I’m not sure.  Carly routinely falls asleep cuddled up with him.  He’s never complained.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Snark.  Or maybe chess.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?  On the sofa in front of the fireplace in the tower chamber of Skyhold.

SLEEPING.

Who snores?  Neither.

If both do, who snores the loudest? N/A

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?  They share a bed.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?  They are usually a cuddle puddle at the start and in the morning.  During the night they roll apart.

What do they wear to bed?  Nothing when they’re together.  Carly steals his shirts if he’s not around.

Are either of them insomniacs?  Carly struggled with it before they were together.  Now it’s not an issue.  Solas is famous for sleeping, so...moving on.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?  Even if they existed in Thedas, I think the answer would still be no.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?  See the aforementioned cuddle puddle.

Who wakes up with bed hair?  Carly, but only by virtue of being the only one with hair.

Who wakes up first?  Carly, usually.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?  Solas.  It’s rare, but it’s happened.

What is their favourite sleeping position?  Carly as the little spoon in a heap of pillows.

Do they set an alarm each night?  No.

Who has nightmares?  Carly.  Solas eats his.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? N/A

Who has ridiculous dreams?  Define ‘ridiculous’.  We’re talking about a Fade-walker and a human transported across dimensions into a foreign body.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?  Solas.  He’s lucky Carly loves him.

Who makes the bed?  The Skyhold staff.

What time is bed time?  When the work is done.

Any routines/rituals before bed?  The usual.  Brush teeth.  Winding down at the end of the day conversation.  Sex.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?  Neither, really.

WORK.

Who is the busiest?  Carly, for sure.

Who rakes in the highest income?  She does.  Being Inquisitor pays better than she expected.

Are any of them unemployed?  I mean, is being the Dread Wolf a job?  Apostate mage doesn’t sound much better.  Hmm, I guess he is unemployed, isn’t he?

Who takes the most sick days?  N/A

What are their jobs?  Savior of the free world and Roamer of the Beyond.

Who sucks up to their boss?  They are the bosses.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?  Does it matter when the work is saving the world?  You get there when you get there.

Who stresses the most?  Carly, hands down.

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?  Kind of a trick question, since neither of them really asked for this.  They’re doing their best, okay?

Are they financially stable?  Very.

HOME.

Who does the washing?  Skyhold staff.

Who takes out the trash?  Again, the staff.

Who does the ironing?  N/A, he wears wool and she wears leather.

Who does the cooking?  In general terms, her staff does most of it.  But between them it’s pretty even.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?  Probably Solas.

Who is messier?  They’re both pretty tidy all things considered.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?  Neither.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?  They have both been known to.

Who forgets to flush the toilet?  Do we even know what kind of plumbing Thedas has?  Not sure this applies.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?  Change that to who forgets the saddlebags and it would still be neither.

Who answers the telephone?  N/A

Who mows the lawn? N/A

Who does the vacuuming? N/A

Who does the groceries?  Both.  Keep Solas out of the Val Royeaux cake shops, please.

Who takes the longest to shower?  Carly.  See the only one with hair issue.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Carly again, and for the same reason.  Too much hair.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Is money a problem?  No.

How many cars do they own?  Change that to harts/horses/bog unicorns.  And many.  So many.

What’s their song?  The Bones, Maren Morris.

Do they live in the city or in the country?  They live in a fully self contained fortress on top of a mountain.  It’s kind of both.

Do they own their home or do they rent?  Where does sovereign domain fall in regards to this?

Do they enjoy their surroundings?  Yes, although Solas misses what Skyhold was before it was a Fereldan fortress.

What do they do when they’re away from each other?  Their respective jobs.  And they miss each other.

Where did they first meet?  Carly fell out of the Breach, literally.  They ‘met’ when she closed the first rift.

Who spends the most money when out shopping?  Solas.  He’s super picky.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?  Neither.

Any mental issues?  Aside from the dimension crossing for her and the several millennia long depression nap for him?  Not really.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?  Carly.  Solas tends to be so overly pedantic and formal, it’s hilarious when he loses that cool. 

Who’s terrified of bugs?  Neither.  They have bigger things to be terrified of.

Who kills the spiders around the house?  Both.

Do they have any fears for their future?  A boatload.  But they’ll be fine.  So speaketh the author.

Their favourite place?  The garden of Skyhold.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?  Carly.  She’s enjoying finding ways to make Earth dishes with Thedosian ingredients.

Who pays the bills?  Carly.  Well, technically I guess it’s Josephine, but you know what I mean.

Who’s the tallest?  Solas, he’s a good ten inches taller than Carly.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?  They both do it.

Who wanders around in their underwear?  Neither.  It’s a castle full of people, remember?

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? N/A

What do they tease each other about?  Carly teases Solas about being a dreadful Dread Egg, whose plans all tend to go pear shaped.  He teases her for being small and stubborn.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?  Carly.  The hobo aesthetic drives her nuts.

Who crushed first?  Carly.  I mean, she was crushing on him before they ever met.  It’s kinda weird when you think about it.

Any alcohol or substance related problems? No.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?  Carly.  But it was only the one time, I swear.

Who swears the most?  That’s a tossup.  Carly swears more out loud in mixed company.  Solas has a filthy mouth when it’s just them, but it’s usually in Elvish and she can’t tell what he’s saying.

OMG, this was so much fun.

[evilovesyou]

Digging Deeper 🕳

Thanks to @haztobegood and @pocketsunshineharry for the tag! I really liked reading your answers, loves!

I’m tagging @whatagreatproblemtohave @disgruntledkittenface @hazzabeeforlou @reminiscingintherain @wait4ever @muchbetterjulia and @banderlion 

1.Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? Black, mostly. I had a phase where I used fountain pens, I like the blue ink better there.

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? The city, I think. I like not having to own a car, but I do love nature. Where I live now I pretty much have the best of both worlds. 

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? I’d like to be better at woodwork and handiwork. Right now I can come up with makeshift solutions to problems, but I always feel like whatever I make or do around the house is just botched LOL

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? Yes in coffee and fruit teas, but I prefer honey to sugar. Nothing sweet in black or herbal teas. 

5. What was your favourite book as a child? When I was very little, I loved to read books about horses. One series I remember getting from the library was called Sternenschweif (My Secret Unicorn in English) and then later I really liked Bartimaeus. 

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? Showers. A bath can be relaxing but only a couple times a year.

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? For some reason mermaid was the first one that came to mind? Wouldn’t mind being a vampire or a witch either. 

8. Paper or electronic books? Both. 

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? I bought a couple dresses that I really like the other week. One’s sunflower yellow and the other has printed tulle. I go absolutely nuts for tulle. Most of my graduating collection was made from it hahaha

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? I don’t mind it, actually. I think it sounds a bit like your fun older aunt and that’s exactly the energy I’m going for! 

11. Who is a mentor to you? I have someone who I’ve worked with since I was 15 and she was my teacher at some point as well... I look up to her a lot and I’m really thankful that she’s always believed in me and my talent because I wouldn’t be where I am today without her. And I wouldn’t be considering my next steps without her guidance. 

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? Yes, for what I create. I wan’t to make things that connect to people emotionally and prove to myself that I can be successful in fashion without losing my kindness. 

13. Are you a restless sleeper? I rotate in my sleep, LOL.

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? YES!! VERY!!

15. Which element best represents you? Earth. 

16. Who do you want to be closer to? My soulmate who’s hopefully waiting out there for me somewhere. 

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? My friend Dani, who’s working abroad for a while and @harryandlouisdragmedown because I’m upset about all the times we were supposed to meet that COVID ruined. 

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. I remember my grandpa teaching me how to make traditional Hungarian grave wreaths for All Hallows Day when I was little. He used to sell them to make extra money in the winter. 

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? I can’t really think of anything super-strange... I’ve had milk directly from a cow’s udder before?

20. What are you most thankful for? My mother and the way she raised me.

21. Do you like spicy food? Yes!! And I’m going to use this chance to say that “white people don’t like spicy food” is Eastern European erasure!!! 

22. Have you ever met someone famous? Conchita Wurst, if that counts. Oh, and Carrie Hope Fletcher!

23. Do you keep a diary or journal? I have a bullet journal, that I try to keep regularly but that’s mostly just to do lists.

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? Depends on what I’m doing! haha

25. What is your star sign? Virgo (Leo moon) 

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? Soggy (I know, I’m gross)

27. What would you want your legacy to be? That I created things that made people feel good and that I was kind. 

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? I love to read! I mostly read fanfic now, but the last book I read was Erebos by Ursula Pozanski. I didn’t really like it though so I wouldn’t recommend. I’m looking forward to starting The Song of Achilles.

29. How do you show someone you love them? I like to make and give gifts and I simply tell them I like them and what I like about them. I pretty much voice every nice thought I have.

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? Nah, I feel like that’s an American thing? I only like ice in cocktails.

31. What are you afraid of? Failure. That’s my worst fear.

32. What is your favourite scent? Hay in the summer. Just that warm summery scent that’s hay mixed with wildflowers. 

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? It depends. If I meet somebody casually or at a fashion event, I’d go by their first name. In other situations I would use the formal “you” we have in German and probably go for the last name.

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? I'd buy my mom a house on the outskirts of the city and myself a flat in the city. And I’d want to own a workshop with an attached shop so I can make and sell my stuff in the same place. 

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? The ocean, hands down! My favourite are lakes and rivers, then the sea and then pools. I hate the scent of chlorine and how it makes my skin and hair feel.

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? Look around to see if I can see somebody who might’ve lost it and pocket it if it isn’t obvious somebody’s looking for it.

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? Yes! Loads! We used to always sit outside really long into the night during August meteor showers when I was a kid. 

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? To stand up for themselves and be responsible and kind.

39. If you could get a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? I want a rose on my forearm and maybe some sunflowers on my ankle.  

40. What can you hear now? My mother and my grandma talking over adverts on the TV.

41. Where do you feel the safest? At home. That’s such a basic answer LOL

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? I wish I could get over my fear of taking the master tailor’s exam so I could start realizing my dreams. And I wish I were better at taking care of myself, especially my body.

43. If you could travel back to any era, what would it be? I really don’t know. I love the drama and fashion of the 18th and 19th century, but that would only be fun if I were rich and that’s unlikely hahah. 

44. What is your most used emoji? 😂

45. Describe yourself using one word. I asked my mom and she said “annoying” and then she corrected herself to say “pedantic, as in annoyingly perfectionistic.” 😂I think that’s pretty accurate.

46. What do you regret the most? Not listening to myself when I thought I should take a gap year. It resulted in me dropping out of school twice because I was burnt out. 

47. Last movie you saw? Oof. Tom Harlock’s videos on Amberlynn? Ahaha I don’t really watch movies. Although I did watch the Hamilton recording the other day!! 

48. Last tv show you watched? The Epstein documentary on Netflix. I can’t seem to finish shows anymore, but I did finish that one! 

49. Invent a word and it’s meaning. If you ask Lynda, I invented the word “légère” hahah 

[a-moment-of-creation]

Flower Full Moon Card Pull

I posted here and in my witchy group on facebook about doing a card pull this morning down at the Garden of the Gods. I was unable to get photos of the moon because it had set by 5:40 AM. On both platforms there several people who liked my posts, however, you didn’t leave a comment. I have pulled a card for you as well as the people who asked. All the actual asks will be first, they will all be numbered and if you  you are tagged and would like to know which card is yours just reply. So let’s get started!!

The first two cards were pulled at 6:45 and are what the deities wanted conveyed to us all.

CARD 1: New Moon in Taurus - Prosperity lies ahead This card suggests you can have what you want - even material things - just believe in yourself. If you’re struggling with something don’t give up just yet. Attune to the Moon: Get or give a massage - healthy body, healthy mind. Additional meanings: Take some time out to pamper yourself. Start adding to a savings account no matter how small.

CARD 2: Cardinal Moon - Be bold and make the first move Take matters into your own hands, you’ll need to be powerful & self-starting, determined & organized. Attune to the Moon: I am taking charge of my destiny. Other Meanings: Ask Ganesha, the Hindu Elephant god, for help. Come into your power; the time for action is now!

Now onto the cards that were requested:

CARD 3: Full Moon in Scorpio - It’s time to release negativity (Kate) In regard to what you asked about, Worrying yourself is pointless! This card also can indicate that you should let go of any grudges you might be holding onto. Attune to the Moon: Emote! It’s all better out than in. Other meanings: It’s time to move from living fearfully to living joyfully. The end of an argument.

CARD 4: North Node - Step out of your comfort zone (Tracy) In regards to what you asked about, I’m taking a huge leap and guessing she’s struggling with being happy and fulfilled. I say this because this card is all about doing the thing that scares you(within reason). There’s a good chance if she takes the leap she’ll as why she waited. Attune to the Moon: I know I’m headed in the right direction. Other Meanings: You need to face a fear and get over it. Time to stop obsessing over someone or something. Stand on your own two feet,

CARD 5: New Moon in Virgo - A time to give rather than take (Karen) In regards to what you asked about, this card suggest that your helth is on the way up. It recommends you restart with a clever and organized plan. Attune to the Moon: Recommit to healthy morning and evening routines.(In your case I would suggest if you’ve been given exercises to help healing to recommit to doing them.) Other Meanings: Gradual improvements are coming. The person you’re asking about is reliable. 

CARD 6: Full Moon Eclipse - Conclusions are within reach (Laura)  First, when I did this pull two cards shouted at me. Here’s what shouts out to me for you, If you’re letting go of someone or something, know that it’s the right time as hard as it might be. It also forgiveness could be the key to resolving the situation positively. Attune to the Moon: That which is meant for me will not pass me by. Other Meanings: It’s time for you to get back on track. Forgiveness will set you free of karma.

CARD 7: Waxing Crescent Moon - Have faith in your dreams (Laura) Relating to your question there is every reason to to be hopeful for a very positive outcome. Attune to the Moon: I am focused on what I want. (I’d venture that focusing on healing could be the right path for you) Other Meanings: Don’t look back - stay focused on moving forward. Dig a little deeper to find more courage.

CARD 8: Third Quarter Moon - Adjustments are required (Angela) You did not ask for a card specifically so I hope it speaks to you. A change of course is forecast now that recent events have been understood and acted upon. Something in your life may be reminding you of what you want and what it’s time to let go of. Attune to the Moon: I am reevaluating the situation. Other Meanings: Your life may be out of balance and this may be causing your issues; it may be time to hatch a whole new plan. Something new is around the corner.

CARD 9: New Moon in Cancer - You and your loved ones are safe (Amanda) You didn’t ask for anything specific and I know you can read about the finer points but I’m getting that you may be thinking about moving forward with something in your personal life and you can do it. Your insecurity may be what’s holding you back. Attune to the Moon: Make sure you put family first. Other Meanings: Spending time near water will bring you peace and answers. A new cycle is starting for your child or children.

CARD 10: South Node - Don’t let your past hold you back (Melissa) Again you didn’t specifically ask for a card and so I hope this speaks to you. It suggests that someone(you, even) needs to be released, that there’s some kind of addiction going on or an unhealthy attachment that needs to be sorted out. Attune to the Moon: I release the past. Other Meanings: Just beacuse you can do something doesn’t mean you should.

CARD 11: New Moon in Virgo - A time to give rather than take (Tabitha) Again you weren’t asking with a specific concept so I hope this speaks to you. If a situation is blocked it could be that you’re over-analyzing things or being too critical. Attune to the Moon: Recommit to health morning and evening routines. Other Meanings: Be of service to others, and love and money will follow. Pay attention to detail if you want success (without being pedantic!)

CARD 12: Full Moon in Cancer - A personal issue reached resolution (Me) This card suggests that a domestic matter or private issue will soon come to a head, and that it’s a great time to move house. Attune to the Moon: It’s best to move towards you want in a sideways manner. Other Meanings: Meditate to soothe heightened emotions. Have you had enough family time lately?

CARD 13: New Moon in Aries - It’s time to take action ( @timetravelerfromhell​ A flame is lit! A wonderful new start beckons and you’re on the right track. The caution? Don’t go too fast and forget your manners. Treat people well as you charge towards your goals - you’ll create much better karma for yourself. Attune to the Moon: Don’t even think about giving up. Other Meanings: Avoid being brash right now. You need a 12-month plan.

CARD 14: South Node - Don’t let your past hold you back ( @morestarsplease​ You’re being challenged to make some changes, even if staying where you are feels easier and safer. It’s possible programming from past lives could be impacting you now and stopping you from achieving all you might. Attune to the Moon: I release the past. Other Meanings: A relationship is karmic and has played out across many lifetimes.

CARD 15: Supermoon - Emotions are running high @solargoat​ This card is about being larger than life, being special and bursting with energy that you can tune into and work with. You can expect plenty of good things and a positive outcome when this card comes up, but you may find there’s a lot of emotion to deal with too. Attune to the Moon: Success is close. I must trust! Other meanings: Don’t ignore the obvious. Speak to the Goddess - ask her for assistance.

CARD 16: Full Moon - Surrender to the Divine @lavender-he-witch​ Life is coming to a head, a point, a conclusion, or a turning point; there may be some kind of change, and possibly even some sort of emotional explosion. Attune to the Moon: I am getting the answers I need. Other Meanings: A wish you made may be about to come true. You may need to forgive someone to release negative energy.

CARD 17:  Full Moon in Sagittarius - Look at the bigger picture (Bobby) Now is the time to count your blessings, even if you don’t yet have exactly what you want. Try to keep an open mind about what’s for the best: the Universe could surprise you. Attune to the Moon: Take time out for a mini-break or adventure. Other Meanings: This situation may have come around because you’ve been distracted. Find a balance between speaking your mind and saying too much.

I hope these pulls are welcomed and speak to you! Let the power of the Full Moon bless you and fill you!

[kierongillen]

On First Issues

I wrote this for my last newsletter, and figure it likely should be added to the tumblr, just it can be added to the Writer Advice tag. Anyway! Sign up to the newsletter for more of this kind of stuff, of course.

Mags Vissago on twitter asked what people's favourite issue ones were, which spiralled into a larger discussion of what makes a good issue 1. That I'm back in the world of Number Ones with the new projects kicking off meant I felt like throwing in my assorted spare change. Also, it was a good way to avoid work. The conversation spiralled a bit, and I thought it worth trying to pull some of this together in a chunk.

There will be a lot of obvious caveats in what follow. I would question anything and everything. What follows below is what I consider pretty solid advice, but pretty solid advice collapses into useless dogma is unexamined. This is just where my head is at presently. Now that I've put it down, I'll likely set it on fire.

Firstly – most of what follows is about writing about a comic which tends to be a standard 20 page unit, released sequentially in a regular release schedule. It doesn't apply to graphic novels. It doesn't apply to comics released irregularly. It doesn't apply to any other form that isn't comics. This is stuff which is warped because of the economic construct. It is also leaning towards what I'd call a pop comic. These are almost entirely genre comics of one form or another.

Issue 1s obsess many writers for various reasons, both good, bad and necessary. Part of it is simply because anyone working in a serial comics in the Anglophone American pamphlet model have more experience in writing issue 1s than any other issue number (“Last issue” isn't an issue number, pedants). So you spend more time proportionally working on them and thinking about them. Perhaps most tellingly, in the present Direct Market, your sales of the first issue are what establish the sales of the latter issues. If you can launch stronger, you have longer until the standard erosion of sales makes the book commercially unviable in singles (and so also gives longer to gain a trade readership which means that doesn't matter). “How effective the first issue is” isn't the only thing which effects sales, but it doesn't for hurt.

Even for books which find an audience in trades, it's worth noting that the number of books which are huge in trades are often books that also did well in singles. The single is many things, including an advertisement, and the more part of a conversation the single is, the more there is an awareness of the trade. The weirdest thing about WicDiv being a hit was how much easier it was to sell more copies of WicDiv. Its success kind of sold itself.

Anyway – in the conversation online, I argued that the best first issues tend to do two things, which I unhelpfully described as “First It” and “Second It.”

The First It is includes everything which I would describe as good writing (good writing, for comics, includes everything, not just the words – it's also art, design, etc). You introduce everything the reader needs to know about your book to have a fair understanding of it. The “Needs” is key. It's not the whole book, but certainly enough to give a reader a fair understanding. You show the sort of thing you do, and how you choose to do it. Obviously not everyone who ends up liking the book will like it (or vice versa), but generally speaking, you lay out who you are, as honestly as you can.

(Worth noting this also includes possibly alienating some readers. If they're going to burn out of a book, I'd argue its rude to string them along. I've never done this as aggressively as I did with my first comic, Phonogram, whose opening caption was so noxious to basically show the door to anyone who wasn't in for this level of nonsense. Why waste anyone's time, eh?)

A competent first issue working inside First It principles will introduce initial key characters, delineate them, their desires and the world they operate inside. In the style you do so, the readers will get an understanding of the book. Frankly, anything which you reveal when hyping the book is almost certainly inside the First It.

In short: most of First It is actually The Pitch – or rather, showing you can competently execute The Pitch.

(A common form of incompetence in Pop Comics writing is failing to do that, and you end the issue with less information delineated than you got from the solicits. I read a first issue in the last year, and found they'd printed the pithy series blurb on the back cover, none of which was explained to any degree in the comic I had just read.)

The Second It is where it gets tricky. This is more rarely pulled off, and also much more subjective, but it's also something that the vast majority of hit books have managed to do, which makes me suspect there's something powerful to at least consider.

The Second It is giving the reader something that wasn't in the pitch. This normally speaks to the actual truth of what the book actually is, or at least gives a sense of the book's direction. It can be a big huge genre twist, but it doesn't have to be that large. But it does have to be something.

(Or at least, it has to be something unless your core pitch is so unique, so magical, so entirely without precedent that you don't have to worry about any of this tawdry nonsense.)

There's a TV first episode which is often mentioned by other writers when talking about this. It's The SHIELD. Spoilers, obv. The show is about corrupt cops. We know this going in. Hell, you know that throughout the first episode, as it's delineated carefully (This is all First It stuff). However, in the final scene, the lead shoots another cop who's on his team. That's the Second It. It lets us know exactly how corrupt these cops are, and also immediately lets us know the direction of the series. For the genre it's working in, that's a strong opening.

A book that is competent with First It regularly fails to hit Second It in various ways, but there's two which I see a lot.

Firstly, the last page reveal is actually just the book's high concept. As in, what the reader already knew by how the book was described to them, or included in solicits. If it was Harry Potter, it'd be “You're a Wizard, Harry.” This means that a reader has paid $3-5 dollars to learn what they already knew. No matter how well executed, this tends to be a turn off. It's also a turn off which is 100% great writing if you were writing (say) a Novel. But there you aren't selling sequential units.

Secondly, the last page reveal is a big event which the reader simply doesn't care about. This is a failure born of the rest of the book, and shows well how First It and Second It aren't separate units. If you know the Second It is reliant on some emotional underpining, you need to make sure that is established. A classic example would be (say) a long absent relative turns up. If the issue has not spent sufficient time making the absence of the relative to your cast of absolute interest, that isn't going to land.

In Doctor Aphra 1, her Dad turns up into the end, and that's not set up at all in the issue. However, my hook was “her dad has turned up... and he's just fucked over Aphra.” The latter is the reveal of character about the former, and is the directional thrust. It's not about the existence of her father, but rather her father's character and what that means for Aphra.

Yes, you should be raising an eye on “Last page Reveal.” The commonality of “Last Page Reveal” in these books is another question, and a hint towards how this kind of writing has been codified. There's been a lot of people reverse engineering BKV, shall we say. “Reveal in final scene” may be a better way of thinking of it, and even that is too small for my liking.

To talk about WicDiv for a second, it's a complicated mess of a book, but our First It is establishing a bunch of the key mythology, vibe, style and two lead characters. The Two Lead Characters feed into the Second It – which is “A Judge is Murdered in the Middle the Court. Did Lucifer Do it?” That only even vaguely works because we spent the majority of the issue delineating Lucifer as much as we did Laura. The Second It for WicDiv was signalling this is a genre work with an actual plot, and not just ambling along Phonogram style. First It was “Here's our world” and Second It is “And here's where we're going next.”

You may be reading the above and thinking of it as a checklist. “Must make sure I have Two Its.” That would be a mistake. The two Its are an analytical tool. It's an editing principle when approaching your own material of what narrative unit makes a useful, accurate and compelling introduction to the story. In my case, it's looking at my story, recognising the point where First It (introduction to the book) and Second It (reason to continue reading book and hint at immediate direction) have been fulfilled to my satisfaction, and then writing and editing to ensure I include them both.

In the case of WicDiv, I looked at the story and thought “I have to get to the murder of the Judge.” I could have perhaps ended with Lucifer having just murdered the assassins who tried to kill her... but all that would have shown is “these pop star gods who claim to be gods have godly powers” and I said that in the hype. Perhaps I could have worked out a way to make that work if I played with the sympathy towards Lucifer differently, but that still felt like reiterating the pitch. The Death Of The Judge leading to a murder mystery was clear and direct. That's what I had to get to.

It's also worth noting that many of the most successful first issues (and some of the biggest hits of recent years) are longer than 20 pages. Y: The Last Man (which is a clockwork masterpiece of First-Issue-ness) was 28 pages. Saga is double issue size. Monstress was triple sized. For me, WicDiv was 30 comics pages. Spangly New Thing is 34. Longer issues both let you spend more time making sure First It is done well, and more time to push towards whatever beat you consider to be Second It.

(That's another reason why the Second It can come at the end of an issue. By definition, it's the point you were trying to reach. When you've reached it, you can stop.)

And as another side point, it's also worth remembering that How You Hype The Book can vary hugely. If I'd sold WicDiv as “Pop Stars who claim to be gods...” perhaps Lucifer having actual powers would have been enough for a Second It. I suspect not, because clearly me even posing the question is implicitly promising the reader the answer is “Yes.” That'd be like me selling an autobiography with “Does Kieron Gillen have magical powers?” and then showing across 300 pages that no, he's just a dude. But still: you get the point.

That's enough on this. It's interesting stuff to think about, because this is only a tiny fraction of it. If Issue 1 is everything that has to be in issue 1, what is Issue 2. Issue 1s are the hardest worked issues in a series, because you're preparing for so long, but Issue 2 are a special kind of heartbreaker.

I said it at the top, but all of this is also for a certain mode of comics. And not even all that certain mode for comics. The First Error I listed above? If a writer is figuring it's primarily a trade based book, and they feel it's not worth distorting issue 1 to serve the single, that could be a fine choice. I sometimes wonder if I'd have been better ending THREE's first issue with the Spartans turning up rather than the slaughter.

That's still a cliffhanger. You can go more extreme that that. When I launched WicDiv, and Warren and Jason Howard were launching Trees, I felt entirely ashamed having done this Pop Thrill Banger and Trees just cuts at the end of an issue and assumes you'll be back in month. It believed in a maturity in the audience and a willing to follow it wherever it went. That's something I find entirely admirable.

Point being: the above is only useful tools in so far as it aligns with your goals as a creator.

[ratherhavetheblues]

ANDREI TARKOVSKY’S ‘STALKER’ “Prisoner? I’m imprisoned everywhere…”

© 2021 by James Clark

Our protagonist, early on in this mammoth undertaking, and en route to a client, protests to an imaginary companion, “My dear, the world is so utterly boring. There’s no telepathy, no ghosts, no flying saucers… They can’t exist. The world is ruled by cast-iron laws. These laws are not broken. They just can’t be broken…” On reaching his customer, there is also a woman, in furs and with a cool sports car. He continues his rant, now addressing her. “Don’t hope for flying saucers. That would be too interesting…”She retorts, “But what about the Bermuda Triangle?” This annoys him. “You’re not going to contradict…” And she quickly declares, “Yes, I am.”/ “There is no Bermuda Triangle,” he insists. “There is Triangle ABC which equals Triangle A prime, B prime, C prime.” She yawns, “It’s all so tedious, so very tedious.” She might have added that it’s all very pedantic. It’s all very pushy, in a thrust that doesn’t yield power. Pedantic, to the point of desperation. Shifting back to his whimsy, he tells her, “In the Middle Ages, life was interesting. Every house had its goblin, each Church a God. People were young. Now every fourth person is old…” The client had placed his hat on her car; and, in the woman’s resenting the protagonist being so adamant, she races away from them, leaving his hat on the roof. That dogmatic display had been mitigated in several ways. Surrealism had landed with the hat. The triad of the Bermuda Triangle was also a breath of fresh air, a visit from a source to be seen soon. Telepathy, ghosts, flying saucers, all in the mix, somehow.

Beginning as we did, there requires now a more complete sense of the crisis. His career of being known as a “Stalker”—a term implying harsh measures—focuses down to his being a sort of pilgrimage tour guide. Whereas such a calling could be lucrative, one look toward our protagonist’s home makes very clear that money is scarce there. His bedroom and kitchen have been reinforced by a living room operating as a public bar. Could that polyglot become a manifestation of the passionate innovator himself? Whereas those typically doing pilgrimages rush to prove how old-fashioned they are, our Stalker finds a market (obviously not numerous) for those with a hankering of the rebellious. The saga of the missing hat would be a case of a lady’s man, a popular, wealthy writer purveying the chic and solid classical rational thought from many centuries ago. That he’s fond of “risk” is one thing; that he’s bought into the ways of the Stalker is a very different thing. The first visitor seen at that surrealist bar is the other client of the adventure, a scientist. Curiosity being smiled upon in that realm, where standard curiosity does not have a hope. Not about smidgens, but a new cosmos. Both would be proud to call themselves skeptics. Both would be impostors.

  Insofar as being that, in my view, the core of this elusive film is concerned with a planet of impostors, we will attempt things in the most incisive and compelling way, that being left for the crisis and what to make of it, while beginning with an idiosyncratic triumph which does, in fact, form the ending.

“You came back,” says the Stalker’s wife in a needling way, and in the bar. Where did the dog come from? (He was feeding the dog.) “It tagged along. Don’t chase it away…” Though unimpressed by the new family member, she is concerned that he join her on a walk to carry her crippled daughter, Monkey, needing the elements. “Monkey’s waiting.” (The elements being contaminated by a striking, unabating force.) Mom smoking, pacing the floor of the bar. The two tourists being morose. The smoker asks, “Does anybody want a dog?” The Writer responds, “I’ve got five already…” The dog goes to the girl. Mom says, to the barman, with no enthusiasm, “So you like dogs.”/ “That’s a good one.” The Stalker gets around to, “Alright, let’s go.” The Family Man raises the girl to his shoulders. The Professor/ Scientist and the Writer watch nonplussed. The daughter and her crocheted shawl seem to be a haven. Their arresting and dashing procession, along a shoreline, frees the gala to its simple and graceful height. A ringing sound is heard. Cut to a wooden bowl being filled with milk.

   In great contrast to the playfulness, back home the marching man complains to his wife, “If you knew how tired I am… Only God knows… They still call themselves the intelligentsia. Writers! Scientists!”/ His wife says, “Calm down…”/ He insists, “They don’t believe in anything. Their capacity for faith has atrophied.”/ “Calm yourself,” she tells him, in the action of his being overrun by the lack of focused emotional force. Surprisingly, one more room shows up—an impressive library./ “Stop it. Calm down. Don’t worry…”/ By now, he’s lying on the floor. She tells him, “It’s dark. You can’t stay here.” She helps him up. “Take it off,” she says./ Toward the bed, a surreal cave wall, rippled, primeval but also vaguely chic./ She helps him take off his pants. He lies down in their only bed. She touches his forehead. She sits on the bed. She adjusts the pillow. “Calm down. It isn’t their fault. They should be pitied, not abused. Their eyes are blank.” She gives him a sleeping pill./ He perseveres, “Their thinking how not to sell themselves cheap. How to get paid for every breath they take. They knew they were born “to be someone,” to be an elite!”/ She touches his temple./ He says, of them, “You live only once… How can such people believe in anything at all?” (Ambiguity here must be embraced.)/ “Relax, now,” she urges. “Try to get some sleep…” She sponges his face and forehead. “Go to sleep…”/ He argues, “Nobody believes. Not only those two. Nobody” [Tarkovsky, we must account for, could be using “belief” in a rare way]. Then he delivers a prayer. “Who shall I take there, O Lord… The most troubling is that nobody needs The Room [the great delivery of his product]. And all my efforts are in vain.”/ She argues, “Why do you say that? Don’t…”/ He pitying himself, “I’ll never go there again with anyone.”/ “If you want,” she says, “I’ll go with you. Do you want that?”/ “No, you mustn’t.”/ “Why?”/ “What if you fail, too?”

She sits down and has a smoke. She speaks to the void. Their void. Our void. “You know, Mama was very opposed to it. You’ve probably already guessed that he’s one of God’s fools…” (The footprints of Bergman’s theatrical dialogue; and the heavy woolens on her presence, in lieu of heating. As with Bergman’s films, dialogue is crucial in a film like this. Tarkovsky’s pictorial genius does not invite your guesses as to what he might be thinking. The depths of dialogue deliver exactly what he is thinking—a thinking not to be imagined as normal, nor a quick grab. The métier of the business of film-entertainment might as well be tricked up by Shakespearean garb, inasmuch as nothing has essentially changed in essence since more than two thousand years. Bergman and Tarkovsky [along with a few ignored figures hoping to make a change] know of another way, an emotive key having been in a form of long imprisonment. Here we have questionable nonsense; and overrated smarts. Closely following the dialogue is not a choice.) “Everyone around her used to laugh at him. He was such a wretched muddler. Mama used to say, ‘He’s a stalker, a marked man, an eternal jailbird… Remember, the kind of children stalkers have…’”/ “I didn’t even argue. I knew all about it—that he was a marked man, a jailbird, mocked by children. Only, what could I do? I was sure I’d be happy with him. I knew there’d be a lot of sorrow. But I’d rather know bittersweet happiness [pathos, a Bergman specialty] than a grey, uneventful life. (Moreover, far beyond personal distinction, the lift is an uncanny “zone.”) Perhaps I invented this later. But when he came up to me and said, “Come with me,” I went. And I’ve never regretted it.” (At the film’s beginning, she becomes hysterical about his stealing her watch for the current job… You gave me your word. I believed you…) There was a lot of grief and fear and pain. But I never regretted it nor envied anyone. It’s just fate… It’s life. It’s us. And if there were no sorrow in our lives, it wouldn’t be better. It would be worse. Because then there would be no happiness either. And there’d be no hope. So… (a little smile).

   Cut to the daughter, reading at a table. (At first sight it seems a Bible. But on closer inspection it’s far from a Bible.) A freight train goes past their window. Flecks of light show up. Monkey’s voice-over, surveying her prospects.) “I love those eyes of yours, my friend. Their sparkling, flashing, fiery wonder./ Where suddenly those lids descend/ Then lightning rips the sky asunder/ You swiftly glance, and there’s an end… (Panning down, she in profile.)/ There’s greater charm, though, to admire/ When lovely are those eyes divine./ In moments kissed by passion’s fire;/ Where though the downcast lashes shine/ The smoldering embers of desire…” (She looks out the window. A pink color in the sky.)

On the table are three glass vessels: her medicine; a tropical  fish; and an empty vase. A dialectical site, not as sterile as you might think. The pulsation from a train moves the medicine bottle toward the edge of the table. But the ensuing pause outside allows the bottle to stay in play. A second glass, containing the fish, also stays in play. (She places two fingers toward the window and the pink sky.) She places her head at one side of the table. The third and empty glass, devoid of substance, plunges to the floor. Is it a case of one’s frailty, or a case of one’s dead history? “Then lightning rips the sky asunder…” Is there a way for her to elicit that  “greater charm?”A ringing bell. The table shakes, the glasses shake. The train shakes the table. “In moments kissed by passion’s fire…”

   Stalker is far from the graces of Monkey. He and his two adventurers show us most graphically that being alive can be already dead. The figure of the Scientist, aka, the Professor, the early-bird, the typical go-getter, gives us a whack of big-reality in the form a Nobel Prize winner. “Was it a meteorite or a visitation from outer space? Whatever it was, in our small country there appeared a miracle—The Zone; imagined to be a singularity. Stalker went to work upon a mystique of that meltdown.

Right from the terminology of Zone, you know embarrassment awaits. In fact, the entire enterprise of that safari is one long episode of the concerns of Theatre of the Absurd. (That being a tonality very useful to the films of Ingmar Bergman, and now dawning upon Tarkovsky. Also, Bergman was not slow to see  that Hollywood melodrama had unwittingly taken up an early version of the tendency of bathetic overkill, in many entertainments. The pathos of that moment of Monkey’s day, introduces something very unique.) Whereas the alarm of Theatre of the Absurd would be heavily involved by way of rational (and irrational) analysis, the Stalker’s approach derives from the possibility that, given enough woe, a frenzy of physical action can break through to serious truth. (He being far from coherent, his other notion becomes that when the magic field is found, the hero is given all the joy anyone would need.)

Rounding off the take-off, our two bold candidates declare statements of concern. The Writer admits, “I dig for the truth, but, while I do, something happens to it. The truth changes into a pile of… I won’t say what… I seldom think. It’s bad for me. The Scientist posits: “I’ve lost my inspiration. I’m going to beg for some.

In the course of stealing a side-car to access what is seen to be a magical place, they invade the large railway complex nearby in the Scientist’s jeep. The pollution count provides the making of film noire, but the actions in the railway yard are so hare-brained as to become a parody, a very young children’s entertainment. What does, though, amidst the jeep-hopping tracks and the Keystone Cops, is the intensity of physical motion, driven to crazy ends by the enthusiast, ends with potential, but light-years away. The atrocious dramaturgy opens the door to the realization that the clientele here—and everywhere—are dead in the water. (In the lull of the race, one of them blurts out, “If I don’t come back, tell my wife…” And, “Hurry, for God’s sake! Keep your eyes open!”) Finding this pitch to be only a specialty of the guide, the Scientist tells them, “What I said about going there… It’s all a lie. I don’t give a damn about inspiration… But how can I put a name to what I want or really don’t want. These are intangibles where the moment you name them, their meaning evaporates, like jelly fish in the sun. You’ve seen them around. My consciousness wants the triumph of vegetarianism. My subconsciousness longs for a juicy steak. So what do I want? I want world supremacy, at the very least.”

   Having outrun the ruined land, they come upon a vital valley and fresh streams. Stalker feels like flexing the muscles of his arms. “Here we are, home at last!” The Writer adds, “It’s so still.” Stalker proudly declares, “It’s the quietest place on earth. You’ll see yourself. It’s so beautiful. There is no one here. The protagonist quips, “Three men can’t foul it up in one day.” The Writer contradicts, “Why can’t we? Sure we can… It stinks like a swamp…” The guide tells of an earlier client who trampled all the flowers there. As such, here is the point of leaving off the study as an adventure per se, and instead an exposure of the perversity of educated people finding their heavy preparations to be, in the final analysis, a farce. The bizarre and conflicting meanderings have been allowed to run amok in order to illuminate a quicksand having become supreme. Some mad duress by the leader forces the experience to freeze until twilight. In the hiatus, the protagonist going for a walk that becomes a sleep, the Professor ridicules the so-called businessman. “He was in prison several times. His daughter is a mutant, a so-called Zone-victim. They say she has no legs…” There is a cut to Stalker, body and face plunged into thick grasses. Consulting the elements. The Professor had a friend who had an idea the meteorite was a message to mankind… or a gift.

Making a trek into damaged military ruins of a distant war, the invasion had been forced to proceed in single file, as if that war were still in force. Along with the recent attacks of advantage, there was the protagonist, happy to be pushing around a notable physicist and a best-selling novelist, living in a big villa. “I’ll point out the path.” The advertised athletic force is nowhere to be seen, due to keeping up with big-mouths. “I said, don’t touch it! What, are you crazy? I said this wasn’t a place for a stroll… The Zone demands respect, otherwise it’ll punish you… Don’t try anything like that again!” / “Why can’t we go in a straight line. It’s right under our noses.”/ “I’m fed up with you nuts…”/ “Forget it. I’m going my way…”

   This skirmish being the opposite of attempting to deliver disinterestedness by way disciplined, dynamic toil. The three of them settling into that what looks like The Three Stooges. Hollywood melodrama early; and Hollywood comedy late. “Keep the last pole in sight. You go first, Professor…”/ “No, you…” / “We’ll go roundabout.”/ “Why?”/ “Here the straight path isn’t shortest. The more indirect, the less risk there is.”/ “Is it fatal to go straight ahead.”/ “I told you. It’s Dangerous.”/ “Is the detour less dangerous?”/ It’s not, but nobody goes straight…”/ “You and you’re detours.…”/ “How about if I just go straight.”/ “Listen you…”/ “It’s risky here, risky there. What the hell… Forget it. I’m going this way…”

Being duped about a childish magic, the buyers recoup what they can. An assault from science: “You’re a fine one, Mr. Shakespeare. Afraid to advance, afraid to retreat…” A response from literature: “It might seem capricious. But at each moment, it’s as if we construct it accordingly to our own state of mind—the states of mind here overlook honest concentration, and therefore we have just another “fabulous” entertainment. The Stalker also finds a statement transcending Stooges. “All of them are death traps. I don’t know what happens here when humans aren’t around. But as soon as humans appear, everything begins to change. Former strengths disappear, new ones appear. Safe ways become impossible. The way becomes more easy, now confused beyond words.”

Making the best, after making the worst, the protagonist also grasps the sense of the  capricious. “But at each moment it’s as if we construct it according to our state of mind. I won’t hide the fact that some people turned back half-way. Some perished on the threshold of the Room. But everything that happens here depends on us.” So far the sobriety holds. And now it doesn’t. It loses its purchase upon one’s readiness to embrace the kinetic. “So the Zone lets the good through, and kills the evil.” Stalker is somewhat amenable to revise that position. “I don’t know. I don’t believe that. I think it lets through those who’ve lost all hope. Not the good or the bad, but the unhappy. But even the most unhappy will perish if they don’t know how to behave here.” Pedantry gone wild.

The semi-anarchy holds to the point where more disclosure of the captains of wow can fall down a hole. The fantasy of the Zone allows the two customers some diversion. But it is the poverty of The Scientist and The Writer resuming their feud that matters. The man of science and technology addresses the writer, “You bedraggled hack, you home-grown psychologist, fit only to scribble graffiti in lavatories.”/ The Writer has his own way to portray the enemy’s being needing to be terminated. The ways of history. The Writer laughs, “That’s feeble stuff. Call that an insult?” (Before more childishness occurs, a dog runs their way. It sits with The Stalker. It easily steals the show. But the sensationalists all but ignorance it.) They’ll soon stumble upon, while in their supposed destination, a striking formation of undulating snow-white domain, in the cave being a supposed heaven. They haven’t a moment to appreciate the strange beauty there.) The Writer’s Response: “What are you after?”/ “All right. So I’m after a Nobel Prize. What are you after? Want to bestow on mankind the pearls of your bought inspiration?”/ “I spit on mankind. In all of your mankind, only one man interests me. And that’s me… Coming to the conclusion that his life is “shit,” the popular sweetheart comes to, “Know something, Einstein, I don’t want to argue with you.” This prompts the image-of-steel, to a militant overrun—the only like of, being religion. He concocts, lyrically, the heavens creating the mountains. “And from the wrath of the Lamb who shall be able to stand…. Truth is born in arguments, dammit! Happiness, but what kind of happiness?” The Stalker’s reverie: “And lo, there was a great earthquake…and the sun became black as sackcloth, and the moon became as blood… And the stars of heaven fell into the earth… And they said to the mountains and rocks, ‘Fall on us and hide us from the face of him that sits on the throne’…And it came to pass that Jesus himself drew near and walked with them, but they didn’t recognize him.” Dribs and drabs: “Mankind exists in order to create works of art. At least that’s unselfish compared with other human activities.”/ “You’re unable to think in abstract terms. Why don’t you teach me the meaning of life…”/ “You may be a professor, but you’re ignorant…”

   The Stalker will back into something perhaps a little less hopeless. “Now, take music. It’s connected least of all with reality. Or, if connected, then it’s without ideas. It’s surely empty sound without associations. Nevertheless, music miraculous presents your very soul.” (An agency of force. What chord in us responds to its harmonics? Why is this necessary? )

The “climax,” of course,  isn’t. The Writer pulls out a gun; and then throws it into a body of water. The Scientist pulls out of his rucksack a bomb. Much Three Stooges. A large, beautiful hawk comes by where they’ve buried themselves in the cave of nothing. The Writer blurts out, “They devour the film in your soul… What kind of writer am I, if I detest writing? I wanted to change them, but they changed me to fit their own image. The Scientist phones his office to divulge, crazy-heroically, that he had taken from the institute his brainwave. The speaker on the line exclaims, “You realize this finishes you as a scientist.”/ Now, having burned his bridges, he brazens, “Go on, do your dirty work…”/ From the zone of the “true,” the former colleague has a familiar good-bye: “I can see you hanging from your belt over a prison latrine.” The gunman could resume his effete vexation. The bomber, however, seems to have taken on a remarkable problem. Desperate ways. His last words to the messenger—”And not for money or inspiration, but to remake the world!—may still be wrongheaded and wrong hearted.

We’ll call it a day, with Algot, the hunchback-sexton in Bergman’s Winter Light (1962), when Tarkovsky was a young, eager learner. Here he saw some real innovative excitement, excitement like what was in store with Monkey. Algot’s discovery was, “that the Bible’s real sense pertains to one sensibility, Jesus, whose sensual virtuosity was never grasped by anyone as realizing that the spirit driving it all has nothing to do with human immortality.”

[sarcasmoverlordxo]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Captain America (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Original Female Character Additional Tags: Polyamory, Fluff Series: Part 1 of Stuck in the MIddle Summary:

Sarah is a scholarship recipient for Stark Industries where she plans on doing her pre-thesis research. But when she falls, quite literally, into the lives of two super soldiers, are her butterflies just a crush? Or something more?

This story contains mostly fluff, eventual StevexOC and BuckyxOC (poly relationship). There are no content warnings.

I’m hoping to update about once per week!

~Chapter 1~

I’d only been at Stark Industries for a week, but still hadn’t done anything other than safety training. It was so safe, in fact, that I spent the whole time at the small desk in my apartment, reading information slideshows and listening to repetitive and unnecessary lectures on eye protection. It was like I’d never been in a lab before. The pedantic voiceover droned on in the background as I read a different, and wholly unrelated book. The previous intern must have left it; a crime novel set in the fifties. The lecture had finished, and I set the book aside to take the final safety quiz. Stark Industries’ biology department had put me up in one of their many apartments reserved for visiting scientists or employees who didn’t want to commute. It was generous, and rent-free.

My first week consisted of safety training videos, watching tv, and occasionally visiting the gym. The company cafeteria, located one floor below the lobby, was well equipped and offered a variety of food options. I’d spent a fair amount of time there as well, whether it was with a cup of coffee and a book, or dinner by the television. It grew tedious, and I itched to get into that lab; I’d worked so hard to get here and my anxiety didn’t help, especially with the pressure of my thesis weighing on my mind. I kept in touch with my best friend, Kate, who kept suggesting that I explore Manhattan, but it was so intimidating, and I just kept making excuses.    

So on Friday night, at seven o’clock, I found myself sitting in the cafeteria with a plate full of food, watching Jeopardy. The cafeteria was mostly empty except for a few employees I’d seen in the hallways. I ate slowly, trying to burn more time; I had two days until I started in the lab, and though I was certain it would be another lengthy safety orientation, it was something. I’d tried earlier in the week to go out into the city, but two blocks away from Stark Tower, I panicked and returned to the quiet safety of my apartment. It wasn’t that I was afraid of people, it was the crowds, and the noise, and the overwhelming feeling of being so lost. Eventually, I figured, I’d make it out there.

Behind me, the elevator doors opened, and a few others shuffled out just as I was trying, and failing, to guess a right answer on Jeopardy. A few stragglers settled into tables throughout the room, some leaving, others relaxing as time passed. A while later, I returned my plate and searched for something sweet. Of course, Stark had an ice cream bar. Finding a bowl, I made my way across the cafeteria when suddenly, my feet slid out from beneath me. I landed with a thud on the hard floor, my bowl shattering beside me. My tailbone hurt, but I think my pride took most of the pain as I sat up. Maybe no one saw that…

“Are you okay?” Crap.

“Yeah,” I sighed, looking up, then froze. Of course I not only make a clumsy fool of myself, but I do so in front of Captain America himself. I could feel my face redden. “Yeah… thanks.” I replied, accepting his hand as he helped me up. Then, I felt the wet spot on my jeans; I’d landed in a spill. “I… should get a broom for the broken-” Pausing, I watched as another person stood from brushing the shattered bowl into a small dustpan.

“All taken care of,” He said, turning to meet me. “You alright?” His face seemed familiar, but something shiny caught my eye and it clicked: The Winter Soldier.

“Yeah, thanks,” I replied, smoothing myself out.

“You sure? You look a bit flushed,” Bucky replied.

“Yeah, just a bit embarrassed.” I chuckled nervously. “Thanks for the help.”  

Resting his hand on my shoulder, Steve smiled. “It’s no problem. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “I’m Sarah, by the way.”

“Steve,” he said, and motioned to his friend: “Bucky.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I replied.

“We were just going to get some ice cream,” Bucky said, then turned to Steve. “Because someone ate all of mine. Would you like to join us?”

“Oh, wow, thanks. Yeah!” I replied, stepping carefully around the spill. “Maybe I should get something for that?”

“I’ve got it,” Steve replied. “You guys go and I’ll meet you.” I thanked him and followed Bucky toward the ice cream where he immediately began piling nearly every flavor into his bowl. I must have looked amazed, because he shrugged, smiling bashfully back at me.

“What? My metabolism is ridiculous!”

“You should see him when he eats dinner,” Steve commented, appearing beside me.

“You’re one to talk,” Bucky parried, the two chuckling at their banter. I couldn’t help but to laugh along. Our bowls full, I followed them to a table, my palms itching with nervous sweat. I tried not to act like a crazy fangirl- I’m sure they had enough of that. I’d seen coverage of the New York invasion on the news, and footage of Bucky helping with other efforts, but never thought I’d actually run into them here.

“So are you new?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I was just hired for the genetic research team,” I replied.

“Cool- what are you studying?” Bucky asked.

“I’m actually working here as a part of my thesis.” Bucky nodded, spooning ice cream into his mouth. “I’m studying preventative measures for terminal illnesses and rare diseases. And... I’m actually basing it off of your altered immune systems.” There was a pause, and I expected them to get up and leave, but when they didn’t I laughed. “I didn’t expect to actually meet you guys!”

“So basically,” Steve said, swallowing his ice cream, “you think that the changes to us can be useful for more than just brute strength?”

“I mean, it’s not a super original idea,” I shrugged, “there are variations of it being studied, but I’m focusing on how your immune systems work, as well as your incredibly fast healing abilities and how that can translate to vaccines and treatments. Some of the research that Stark’s company has released is really promising.”

“That sounds really cool,” Bucky smiled. “It’s good to know that something good can come from all this.” We fell into a silence that, to me, felt awkward, but they didn’t seem to mind. “So when do you start your research?

“I finished the mandatory training videos, so I start on Monday in the lab.”

“Are you going home for the weekend?”

“No,” I shook my head at Bucky. “They put me up in an apartment.”

“Ah,” Steve nodded. “So are you doing anything fun then?” I shrugged.

“Not really. I don’t know anyone here, so I was just going to stay in and review my preliminary research. Why do you ask?” Steve and Bucky exchanged glances, then Steve spoke.

“A few of us our going out tomorrow night. Why don’t you join us?”

“Us?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied. “Nat, Bruce- if we can convince him. Maybe Stark’ll show up.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude-”

“We wouldn’t offer if we weren’t serious,” Bucky smiled. “Give me your room number and we’ll pick you up around 7.”

We parted in the elevator, stopping at my floor first. I said goodbye, promising that I’d be ready by 7, and hurried back to my room. All of the nervous laughter I’d held in poured out of me as I sat on my bed. Holy crap. As if researching at Stark Industries wasn’t cool enough, I’d just met, and had ice cream with Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.

I texted Kate the whole story and got nothing but excited responses and questions. Were they as tall as they looked on tv? Yes! Were they attractive? Of course. They seemed so real, especially Steve; he acted like we were just regular people- friends even! I didn’t see any hint of self-righteousness that the papers said he had. But that smile, straight out of an old movie! Bucky, I haven't heard much of until recently. But even he was kind and welcoming. His playful smile wouldn't leave my mind; he probably smiled at every girl he saw like that, but it still didn’t take away my excitement. Another text made me pause: what are you going to wear?

Crap. I’d brought mostly comfortable and lab-appropriate clothes as well as one or two more professional outfits. I’d have to figure something out.

***

Saturday morning seemed to take forever as I tossed and turned. I couldn’t figure out what I was more nervous about: starting my research on Monday, or going out on Saturday night. It was definitely going out. I was confident in my knowledge and my skills in the lab. My social life? Not so much. Honestly, I wasn’t sure whether it was my lack of an outfit, or not knowing what to say. Both. The answer was both. Well there wasn’t much I could do about it, at least so early. So I climbed out of bed and got ready for the day.

The Stark gym was open twenty four hours, so I made my way there in hopes that I could burn out some of my nervous energy. After setting up my headphones and some Netflix, I settled into a rhythm on the elliptical machine. After a while, a new episode came on, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt a tap on my arm. It was Steve. I pulled the headphones out of my ears and greeted him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you!” He smiled, holding his hands up.

“Sorry!” I laughed.

“Good show?”

“Yeah, definitely.” He settled himself on the treadmill beside me. “You’re up early.”

“I’m a morning person.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“I hate mornings.”

“And you’re here?” I paused.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Everything okay?” His blue eyes focused on me, searching for any indication of injury.

“Yeah, I just have a lot on my mind.” Silently he tilted his head, inviting me to continue. “I’m starting my lab research on Monday which means that in a few months I’ll be starting my dissertation. It’s just a lot to think about.”

“You sounded pretty excited about it last night,” Steve replied, punching the speed into the treadmill. “I’m sure your research will turn out great and you’ll have no problem with your dissertation.”

“Thanks, Steve,” I smiled. “I really appreciate it. So what are you up to today?”

“Nothing much,” he shrugged. “Laundry. Maybe read a bit more. I’m still catching up on a few years of books right now.”

“Reading anything good?”

“Uh… Lord of the Flies at the moment,” he replied.

“I remember that one. Light reading?” He laughed.

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of it so far, but I get what they’re trying to show.” Pausing, he adjusted the treadmill again. “What about you?”

“Probably the same. Maybe watch tv or something. My friend keeps hounding me to go out, but I wouldn't know where to start.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” I paused. “I’ve never been here before, so it’s a bit overwhelming.”

“Never?” I shook my head. “How’s this: after we finish here, we grab some breakfast and I’ll show you around. We’re going out at 7 and it’s still early.”

“Steve, you don’t have to do that,” I replied.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” He smiled. “What do you say?”

“Alright, you win!”

After we finished, I ran back to my apartment to shower and change. He met me shortly after, and we took the elevator down to the cafeteria together. He regaled me with stories of lost fights and how different the city was back before the war. Then, we chatted over coffee about nothing in particular. I loved watching him talk about his life before; his face would change and he’d smile, remembering his odd jobs and how Bucky used to get him out of trouble. His eyes lit up when he spoke about him and I wondered if the rumors online were true. Soon enough, Bucky appeared, joining our table with a plate full of food.

“Hey! You didn’t invite me?” Bucky asked, glancing from me to Steve.

“You were still sleeping, Buck.” Steve replied. “And I know you hate being woken up.”

“Anyway,” I added, “ you’re welcome to join us now.”

“Thanks, doll,” Bucky smiled. I couldn’t help the blush that spread across my cheeks.

“Sarah here has never been to Manhattan before,” Steve began. “I’m going to show her around a bit after breakfast.”

“Sounds like fun,” Bucky replied. “Mind if I join you?”

Steve glanced over at me, stage-whispering conspiratorially: “What do you think? Should we let him come?” I couldn’t stop a small laugh as I played along.

“I don’t know, it seems like he’d only attract trouble.”

“Me? Trouble?” Bucky gasped, holding his hands up in mock defense. “I’m an angel. Besides, has this guy told you about his fights? Trouble follows him.”

“He’s got a point, Steve,” I laughed. “Besides, seeing the city with two native Brooklyn-ites sounds like twice the fun.”

“I knew you’d come around,” Bucky teased. “Let me finish my food and I’ll get washed up.” Shortly after, I was once more in the elevator with them, but this time we made our way to Bucky’s room. Steve and I sat on the couch as he disappeared into his bedroom to change.

It was an odd yet pleasing mixture of vintage and modern. The furniture and appliances were all new- no doubt Stark’s design, but the pictures, framed newspaper clippings, and knick-knacks around the room were definitely from the 50s. Looking closer, I noticed that a lot of the pictures had Steve in them some way or another. Beside the door, two bomber jackets were hanging up, both similar sizes, but one’s name patch was slightly visible: ROG- Could that be Steve’s? I felt his gaze on me and looked away; I’d been caught staring too long.

Truthfully, I didn’t mind Bucky tagging along, although it did feel nice to have Steve’s full attention. I’d always been attracted to him- what person wouldn’t? - but to get to know him was something else. Those hopeless butterflies were starting up, and they were only getting stronger.

“So where are we heading first?” I asked as Bucky joined us.

“You’ve got a ton of options,” Steve began, “there’s museums, shops, attractions…”

Bucky chimed in: “Let’s go walk around and see what catches our eye.”

“Sounds good to me!” I replied. Once more, we made our way down the elevator and through the building’s main entrance. Steve had tucked a well-worn ball cap on his head, the embroidery indicating that it was for a World War II veteran, and settled beside me. Bucky did the same, settling on the other side.

The city was loud; there was no way to dispute that! Between the people and the music from restaurants and big, flashing billboards, it was all so much. Times Square, which I’d only ever seen on tv, was just as I’d anticipated. The warm autumn air seemed to breeze by with the cars and taxis that passed. We walked for a while, Steve pointing out an attraction or store he thought I’d like. There were, of course, less touristy places closer to Stark Tower, but the oversized windows with bright displays were fun to look at.

As the crowds grew thicker, Bucky trailed along behind us, quiet for most of the time, only adding a thought or comment on occasion. Steve, however, was practically my tour guide. He even haggled down a cheesy “I heart NY” shirt for me after taking a few pictures with the store’s owner. By the time lunch rolled around, we were in the center of Times Square. The city was still overwhelming, but it felt less so, especially having someone who knew it intimately. I wasn’t worried about getting lost or looking stupid, even when I asked Steve how avenues and blocks worked. He’d explained it without hesitation or judgement and I knew that he would be a really good friend. We stopped at a food cart which looked questionable, but the two swore that there was never a better place to get a hot dog or pretzel. We found a spot on the large set of bleachers set up in the center area and chowed down. They were right: the food was really good!

“Guys, thank you so much for taking me out today!” I said, stretching my achy feet out across the seat in front of me.

“It’s our pleasure,” Bucky smiled, tapping his foot against mine. “Everyone needs a good day in the city.”

“I’m serious- you guys make me feel so welcome.”

“You are welcome,” Steve smiled, and nudged my shoulder. It felt good to have a friend, especially two who were so kind.

“We should go to one of these places sometime,” Bucky suggested. “Maybe the wax museum?”

“Oh that’d be cool!” I nodded.

“It’s a date then.” Bucky smiled up at me.

“Was there anything else you wanted to see?” Steve asked. I looked across the massive area and a really cheesy idea popped into my mind.

“Actually…” I paused, wondering if I should actually suggest it. They seemed playful enough. “I’d like a picture with Captain America.”

Steve paused, his eyebrows bent in confusion. A moment later, Bucky started to laugh, finally seeing what I’d noticed earlier. “I think I’d like one too,” he added.

“Huh? Oh… oh!” Steve’s gaze finally settled on the costumed character across the way. Bucky’s smile turned wolfish. “No way guys, really?”

“Please?” I asked, leaning into his side. He sighed and nodded, following me and Bucky down the bleachers toward the mass of costumed characters. Fetching my phone from my purse, I flagged down the Captain America guy who smiled at three new customers.

“No,” Steve said, taking my phone away, “if I have to do this, you two are coming in the picture with me!”

“What do you think, Bucky?” I asked. He grinned, snatching Steve’s hat and placed it on my head.

“Let’s do this.” When it was our turn, Steve handed my phone to the character’s companion and we all huddled in, Steve’s arm wrapped around my shoulder while the other showed a thumbs up to match the character’s pose. Bucky handed the guy a few dollars and we made our way back toward the tower, Steve’s arm still across the back of my shoulders, his hand gently resting on the side of my arm.

There were still a few hours until we’d be heading out, so we all piled into the elevator and went back up to Bucky’s room where we promptly collapsed onto the couch. I was situated in the middle, and settled into Steve’s side, his arm staying draped across my shoulders. Bucky set the tv on a game show, and I felt myself start to drift off. The tv’s dull noise lulled me deeper and I rested my head on Steve, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and fell asleep.

***

Something shifted beneath me and I felt myself pulled into that semi-sleep, just long enough to hear someone say: “It’s alright, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.” Happy to oblige, I faded back into dreams.  

***

Thank you so much for reading!! Feedback (even a little thumbs up!) is always appreciated! I’m hoping to update about once per week!