#image bank comic horror

[potatoeofwisdom]

I’m so dogshit at art and writing but if I was better I would draw a comic of an au of Danny phantom where instead of the portal incident turning Danny into phantom, it gives him an affinity for the supernatural which leads him and his friends ghost (and supernatural adjacent) hunting because of sam’s egging on for them to bank on this opportunity.

But slowly, as the plot progresses, they realise that Danny didn’t just get kinda spookier and better at attracting spooky things. That he might be More Changed then they realised and it could even culminate into a big reveal thing where Sam realises that she’s actually responsible for permanently irreversibly changing her friend by making him get into that portal that day. Think of it as a kind of character arc for Sam kinda. Learning that her actions have consequences, especially since she’s a rich kid and she may still need to learn this lesson. And what better way to learn it then to literally kill your best friend lmao

Also this could lead to more level power sets between the trio and giving them all chances to shine on equal grounds, at least until Danny realises he’s less alive then he thought.

The accident would’ve hospitalised Danny but other then his heart stopping then restarting and various other spooky things he comes out the other side (seemingly) unscathed, which means Sam doesn’t feel as bad when she realises Danny can attract the paranormal now and therefore attempts to drag him and tucker ghost hunting with her.

Danny doesn’t get a transformation until much later on in the plot and the only physical indicators of his accident are maybe some white hair and occasional green eye flashes. Maybe slight bioluminescence in the dark, as a treat.

I love ectoplasm being spooky juice that can tear u apart from the inside so after the accident sometimes danny would have times where he would throw up ectoplasm and blood and stuff and see flashes of things he doesn’t understand. (Body horror woohoo!!)

Danny keeps a lot of the more gory stuff from his friends and doesn’t tell them about his ‘episodes’ or his weird hallucinations or anything.

The Fenton’s are just as Insane to everyone else as ever because ghosts are a little less in your face and only a pinch more subtle and spooky. I think the fentons would be slightly less intense tho, not too much because I love their insanity, but enough so it makes their threat to Danny as he slowly realises hes less human much more menacing and less slapstick.

In this the ghost fights would be less catastrophic and more spooky. There would be far less property damage but the risks instead would now be genuine horror movie possession, mysterious deaths, being tripped out of windows and stairs, blood on the walls, spontaneous heart attacks among many others. I’m not sure how to best explain the vibes i have in my head rn but the threat would still very much be there but it would be less solve-able through flashy fist-fights in the sky. Hell I’ve got an image of a house mysteriously being set ablaze.

Their methods for removing the ghosts would be far less sci-fi too and more like trying to solve murders to stop angry murderous ghosts and demon banishing with salt and jazz. Maybe Sam uses her occult knowledge and gets really into a type of witchcraft, maybe there’s an arc where she somehow learns more about her ancestors and the founders of the town. I dunno¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (not to say there’s no sci-fi at all- that’s a pretty fundamental part of danny phantom me thinks, I think it’d be more along the lines of ghostbusters logic tho maybe)

another cool idea: Danny sees flashes of a ghosts life when he enters their haunt or gets near them, and the ‘visions’ eventually show him their death. This can fuck him up or just be mildly traumatic whichever best fits.

I feel like even after getting his ‘ghost’ form there should still be several drawbacks. Maybe he’s less physical? Maybe he coughs up blood? Maybe he just doesn’t like being dead? Maybe he loses himself a little? Who knows! I don’t

A lot of thoughts about this but I’m not sure how to word it, so have at thee tumblr if anyone sees this

[nekropsii]

Hussie is not very good at writing Romantic Relationships.

[This is all Stream of Consciousness. Don't mind the meandering.]

On its own, this is fine, of course. That's a skill that sits squarely within it's own niche, and not every story needs romance in it. The trouble with this is how much the notion of Romantic Shipping is embedded to the story, down to defining its own unique Romance System... More than once.

Relationships are a key Narrative Device in Homestuck's storytelling- everyone is aware of this. The unique focus that Homestuck has on the interpersonal relationships that the cast has with one another is fascinating, and arguably one of, if not the biggest reason(s) why people are so enamored with the story and it's characters to begin with. So, that begs the question... If that's the case, why do the Romantic Relationships kind of suck, and why do so many people act like they don't? Moreover, why do so many people tend to push the blame onto specific pairings, rather than acknowledge that maybe... Hussie just wasn't equipped as a writer to write Romance?

Hussie's work has never been particularly focused on the idea of Romance. I can't think of a single piece of media he's released where that's even anywhere close to being on the table, outside of Homestuck itself. Their work tends towards somewhat High-Concept Fiction, with Lowbrow Surreal Humor tied to (usually Body-based) Horror- comics with a clearly communicable premise. Relationships are never truly the core focus- the premise is, whether that premise has the complexity of Whistles: The Starlight Calliope, or the simplicity of Humanimals. The focus was the absurdity of the story and premise itself. Hussie undeniably knew their niche. He knew what he was good at writing and illustrating, and they banked on it. Noting here that none of this is truly praise; think of it solely as a mild dissection.

The point is, to our knowledge, this would have been new grounds for Hussie, and the fact that it quickly became the heart of the story and the main appeal of the comic was most definitely a tricky transition. Luckily, since most of the audience was- and still is- so obsessed with Shipping, many people were quite willing to overlook the fact that the Romance is underdeveloped at best, and downright tacky at worst. From my scope on things, people tend to target Rosemary (Rose <3 Kanaya) in particular as the prime example of Poor Romance Writing, despite being one of the chief examples of Hussie's best work with Romance. The poorer examples tend to get swept under the rug, or even put on a pedestal, with people's mental image of the pairing far overriding their grip of what is and isn't actually canon- from Roxygen's (Roxy <3 Egbert) near nonexistence, to GamKar's (Gamzee <> Karkat) utter failure, to GamTav's (Gamzee <3 Tavros) existence as a joke.

I feel as if part of the issue is the scale of Homestuck's story. It's a Creation Myth that's saddled with a lot of thickly interwoven, tangled lore. The story is more something like a Power of Friendship kind of deal than a RomDrama. The grandiosity of the end goal makes it so that intensely focusing on the little details of these characters lives and their relationship with one another can be difficult to balance, especially considering the sheer size of the cast... Hussie put far too much on her plate as an indie creator to manage all these threads, even if they were good at writing relationships in the first place.

The real meat lies in the Platonic. Homestuck contains within itself a nice variety of very, very interesting friendships that are all but sorely neglected by the average fan, and it's quite upsetting...

[sweet-berry-sims]

get to know a simmer

Thank you to ​ @zosa95 for the tag 😊

show your wallpaper: My wallpaper is of some artwork I found but I don't want to share it because I forget where I found it and I don't want to share it without credit.

last song you listened to: Last song I listened to would be a spoiler for the future generation in my challenge. But I'll admit that aside from Musical soundtracks I've been listening to soundtracks from movies I watched as a kid for the nostalgia vibes.

currently reading: Honestly most of my reading lately has been comics (Fluffy romance or actiony stuff) or Nosleep posts (I have a deep love for horror stories but very low tolerance for scary images lol).

last movie: Muppets from Space!

last show: Been re-watching Fairy Tail with my little sister. It's her first time watching. I suppose it's my first time with dubs since I watched it subbed.

craving: A milkshake knowing my lactose intolerant self would regret it later...

what are you wearing right now: Grey pajamas with polka dot bottoms.

how tall are you: 5′3″ unless I tell the truth then I'm 5'1" lol

piercings: just my ears

tattoos: Nope.

glasses/contacts: glasses

last thing you ate: Instant Ramen

favourite colour: Orange and Green. I can't choose, I am very indecisive.

current obsession: Musicals, and the Sims 4. I've been listening to musicals again in preparation for my upcoming generations. I just really like musicals and the sims.

any pets: Two adorable kittens (3 months old). They are super cute though they abhor staying still for pictures. They're active little ones with magical camera sense so pictures turn out blurry lol. They can be sleeping but as soon as I take out the phone to get a picture and perfect time to stretch in their sleep... like I said, magic camera sense.

favourite fictional character: I don’t really have one. I

last place you traveled: The Outer Banks last summer.

I will tag whoever wants to answer the questions!​

As always feel free to ignore if you already did this/prefer not to join in this is for fun after all.

[hividsmarttv]

More Movies Inspired By Comic Books

You've heard of X-Men, but did you know these great movies are also based on comics?

Copyrighted image from Neil Gaiman's Stardust (1997)

Oldboy (2003) - Directed by Park Chan-wook, this South Korean thriller follows a man who is imprisoned for 15 years without explanation, only to be released and given five days to uncover the truth. The movie is based on a manga series by Garon Tsuchiya and Nobuaki Minegishi.

Men in Black (1997) - Directed by Barry Sonnenfeld, this sci-fi comedy stars Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones as secret agents who monitor and regulate extraterrestrial activity on Earth. The movie is based on a comic book series by Lowell Cunningham.

American Splendor (2003) - Directed by Shari Springer Berman and Robert Pulcini, this biographical dramedy stars Paul Giamatti as comic book writer Harvey Pekar, chronicling his life and career. The movie is based on Pekar's autobiographical comic book series.

The Mask (1994) - Directed by Chuck Russell, this zany comedy stars Jim Carrey as a mild-mannered bank clerk who becomes a superhero with the help of a mysterious mask. The movie is based on a comic book series by Dark Horse Comics.

A Scanner Darkly (2006) - Directed by Richard Linklater, this sci-fi drama follows an undercover cop who becomes addicted to a drug that alters his perception of reality. The movie is based on a novel by Philip K. Dick, which was later adapted into a comic book series by Richard Sala.

From Hell (2001) - Directed by the Hughes brothers, this horror-thriller stars Johnny Depp as an investigator tasked with solving the Jack the Ripper murders in Victorian England. The movie is based on a graphic novel by Alan Moore and Eddie Campbell.

History of the World, Part I (1981) - Directed by Mel Brooks, this comedy is a tongue-in-cheek retelling of historical events, featuring sketches such as the Spanish Inquisition and the French Revolution. The movie is loosely based on the comic book series The Madhouse Glads by Jack Davis.

Timecop (1994) - Directed by Peter Hyams, this sci-fi action movie stars Jean-Claude Van Damme as a time-traveling cop tasked with preventing criminals from altering history. The movie is based on a comic book series by Dark Horse Comics.

Stardust (2007) - Directed by Matthew Vaughn, this fantasy adventure stars Charlie Cox as a young man who sets out to retrieve a fallen star for the woman he loves. The movie is based on a novel by Neil Gaiman, which was later adapted into a comic book series by Gaiman and Charles Vess.

RED (2010) - Directed by Robert Schwentke, this action-comedy stars Bruce Willis as a retired CIA agent who must come out of retirement to save himself and his former colleagues. The movie is based on a comic book series by Warren Ellis and Cully Hamner.

These 10 movies demonstrate that comic book adaptations come in many different forms and genres, from indie dramas to sci-fi comedies. Even if you're not a fan of comic books, these movies are worth checking out for their unique and imaginative storytelling.

[can-i-make-image-descriptions]

[Image IDs: Tumblr tags from just-rogi reading: #ok I know this is a hypothetical and not real #and it depends on the vampire mythology #but i actually get really into this in my comic #and maybe I'm biased bc I started writing it when I was out of work due to a sudden onset of disability out of my control and felt really #guilty about taking resources from people who 'actually needed' it #so take what I say with a grain of salt but No No No #vampires in mythos where they are humans infected with a disease against their will Are disabled #and they Need blood to live and survive #sure they might not need it in the same way as someone who is undergoing surgery or in a car crash or in need of a transfusion #but the fact remains that if they don't get blood they Will die same as any other person on a blood donation waiting list #it just so happens that They are a class with a stigma against them who aren't able to get treatment from the hospital due to the stigma #arround their illness but they Still Need Blood #and they Deserve access to Clean blood in a dignified non traumatic way #in the same vein (lol get it) people who donate blood do so consensually under the assumption that their blood will go to saving the lives #of people in need of it but they don't get to choose (unless it's a direct donation to someone) if that blood goes to a kid with cancer #or a person who just killed a family four four in a DUI and needs blood after the crash #you don't get to pick who your blood helps after you donate it #people on the street also Cannot consensually give their blood if a vampire fucking attacks them holy shit that is insanely traumatic for #both the victim and frankly the vampire as well and if that person or vampire has any comunicable diseases (hiv leukemia or vampirism) #both parties are at risk because the blood isn't clean #a vampire also can't Tell if a person is healthy enough to donate blood just by guessing or how much blood is safe to take or if the person #has an underlying condition preventing them from donating blood!! you know who can do that? Blood Banks!! #an ideal system would have vampires be able to go in and get sterile blood on a regular schedule fully funded by the government #however in a modern vampire setting it's much more interesting to look at how the current American healthcare system treats disabled people #and makes them jump through hoops to prove that they need treatment #as well as the horrors of navigating living with a stigmatized and moralized illness #the horror isn't vampires stealing from blood banks it is that the healthcare system is set up in such a way that it's #must vulnerable people are forced to steal from blood banks or assault people on the streets to get the resources to treat their illness #or die.. because that's what it's all about.. vampires will die without blood #idk ik they aren't real but I've thought about this a lot and the real horror is what is in front of us every day /End IDs]

Honestly, I love the idea of a vampire who only drinks blood taken from blood banks and hospitals, because it so beautifully encompasses someone who's more concerned with the vibes of something than the actual impact of it.

Drinking from someone on the street, barring some other condition they may have, isn't likely to kill them unless you gorge yourself. Taking blood packs? There's always a shortage of blood, and having even less of it runs the very real risk of getting someone killed in a way that is wholly out of your control once you've sipped on that blood. Someone you can't assure the innocence or guilt of, if you're the type of person who cares about that.

Despite that, in popular stuff, I often see discussions of drinking from a blood bank being somehow better or preferable, and yeah. No. The only thing it does is make you feel better while doing more harm, because of that degree of removal. You're effectively drinking blood from someone on the cusp of hypovolemic shock, but since it's not straight from the tap, some people seem to think it's better.

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

"...WHAT'S THE POINT OF THIS WEAPON IF WE CAN'T CONTROL HIM?"

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on one of the darkest moments in the history of the narrative art form, written, illustrated, & inked by Barry Windsor-Smith, created as a living, breathing weapon, Marvel Comics Presents the "Weapon X" program in all its dehumanization, cruelty, and brutality. Marvel Comics, c. 1991.

MINI-OVERVIEW: ""Weapon X" has as much in common with harsh noise music or mondo cinema as it does with superhero comics. Its villain takes unreserved delight in watching the torture of his subject, which is the same thing we're here to do. Audience indictment doesn't get much starker or simpler than this. Characters, readers, and author form a linked circle of sadism.

Windsor-Smith's desire to rough up the reader is right there in every panel he draws. Slashed to ribbons by streaks of black ink and thin streamers of contrasting color, this is beautiful artwork that nonetheless punches out at you to rebuff the eye rather than welcoming it. Swaths of visual noise -- bubbles, snowflakes, shattering glass, banks of glowing lights -- pop and hiss and crackle around the figures. No spaces are left empty -- "Weapon X" puts the horror in horror vacui. All the neon nightmares of the 1980s brought us -- "Neuromancer," David Cronenberg, "Akira" -- are rendered shorthand and packed into as small a space as possible in one overdriven image after another. Colors seethe and clang off each other, set dissonantly at odds far more often than in harmony. In a rare superhero comic colored by the same dude who drew it, Windsor-Smith outdoes himself, painstakingly placing flecks of highlight and lowlight on every available surface, making panels look like tickertape parades."

-- THE COMICS JOURNAL (TCJ), "DERMAL LIFT: BARRY WINDSOR-SMITH’S "WEAPON X," written by Matt Seneca, published August 3, 2018

Source: www.tcj.com/dermal-lift-barry-windsor-smiths-weapon-x.

[josies-not-suicidal-now]

There was a restlessness in her. She scrolled like any other day, but something in her was disatisfied, it gnawed at her. The feeling that she might never gain any improvement on this life, that she would scroll herself to her grave. She saw this wonderful comic about transfeminine love and how a trans girl loving a trans girl actually involves four people since the boys they once were are involved as well. Rereading it gave her a sense of nostalgia, of the younger trans girl she once was, and the trans girl she had hoped to become. The feeling pulled at the restlessness dissolved it slowly like a pill in water, but the restlessness persisted. How many times was she bound to reread this comic? Would she ever experience the emotional resolution of its final panel?

Underneath the panel the comic's creator was offering merch for it, oh fuck yeah Josie thought. She clicked on the link and looked at the website, there was a certain horror to it, that there were services with the explicit purpose of creating merch for random tiny creators like this. She wanted a hoodie, it had trans girls kissing on it, so she must have it, the restlessness demanded it. It cost 50€, no doubt the vast majority of which would be spent on lining the pockets of the owners of the website. She mentally reviewed her finances and knew she wouldn't be able to afford weed if she bough it. She sent the link to her newest "sugardaddy", and wrote "please daddy? :3". He was some divorced english dude who had moved to berlin a couple months earlier, when she had fucked him he had really wanted her to talk about how nice his dick was. It had kinda put her on the spot, really hadn't been very comfortable.

She thought about the workers who were going to get the other percentages of the 50€. Their working conditions were entirely unknown to her, their salaries, their rights, their relationships with their bosses, their governments. She didn't even know where they were. She imagined a sweaty Filipino man stood in a textile printing factory without air conditioning that smelled of paints and dyes, among other chemical industrial fumes. She imagined the workers on the cargo ship transporting her hoodie to her. She wondered if any of them would take the time to look at her hoodie and what any of them would think upon seeing it. Perhaps it was less cruel to foist the image of two cute girls kissing next to the shadow selves of the boys they once were, than it was to force them to transport ahegao shirts.

Her "sugardaddy" was responding. "Sure thing, darling ;)" He said, "When am I gonna get to see you again?" He asked, like as if he had to be polite. She wasn't interested in fucking him again, but that usually wasn't a problem. These men liked being depended on almost as much as the sex, and she didn't mind losing him, so long as she got her hoodie right now. Perhaps he needed a little encouragement.

She took off her hoodie which read "M.A.D. Magicians Against Data" and threw it at the corner of the room. She held a peace sign against her cheek and took a selfie with her tits out. She sent it to him with the caption "soon hopefully hehe XD"

When she never fucked him he probably would be too depressed about being duped to do anything about it, maybe he would come to her apartment and make a big stink at the front door, and bang on it, and shout and yell and annoy her roommate. That wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he would persist for so long that she would have to confront him, and he would beat her up, or rape her, or hurt her some other way. That would suck, but at least it would be gender affirming.

He was typing again. "You really can't wait to get this big dick in you again huh?"

Josie checked her bank account, he had sent the money, there was no reason to worry about writing a response.

Typing in her details to order this new hoodie she could feel the restlessness resolving itself. The future would be different than the present because today she didn't have a hoodie with trans girls kissing on it, and tomorrow she would. She could feel the gaze of Marx and Foucault disapproving at her from the heavens, for being so satiated by mere consumption. She could imagine Foucaults furrowed frustrated brow just below his gleaming bald head. She knew nothing about his ideas or if he would actually have cared about her relationship with commodities, but she knew he appeared in video essays often, so he was likely to agree with Marx.

[blackpigcomics]

FAMILY PORTRAIT

When I was 8, I drew a very disturbing dog family, and this is a remake in my current style. I basically haven’t drawn in a year, and this was fun ^^

The house is based on the hut where my great-grandmother grew up with her many sisters and brothers. The father was a shoemaker and alcoholic, and most (if not all) kids moved to the city to work in the factories before they were even teenagers, if I remember correctly.

The original drawings, that I drew with crayons on the back of my mum’s bank statements in 1989, when I was 8 years old:

I drew them in that order, and tacked the pages together, so it’s kind of a funny little horror comic in the shape of a series of portraits of a family. A child psychologist would probably have had a field day with it. ^^;

Now that I redrew them as an adult, my brain wanted to make more sense of it than just “it’s funny/creepy”! The mother, who looks completely normal (for a dog-human/werewolf/furry or whatever), has a little pendant with a satanic cross around her neck. And maybe they’re involved with terrible, unspeakable demonic entities or forces that disfigure their bodies? Maybe the father is the unspeakable entity, and the children have inherited features from each parent to varying degrees?

I used my great-grandma’s hut as the backdrop, because in this type of historical family portraits of peasant and worker families in Finland, they usually posed in their Sunday clothes in front of their home, which may have been a tiny hut in the forest like this.

To me personally this family portrait is kind of the story about how abuse, addiction and pain runs in families, and how children inherit it and carry it on in different ways. Some become abusers in turn. Some turn the abuse against themselves. Some pretend to be ‘normal’, but still carry those demons inside, and avoid close relationships out of fear that they’ll emerge. Some become selfless saviours and helpers devoted to fight injustice. Some become artists and tell the story of their abuse and pain over and over. Some manage to truly overcome it and break the cycle. And of course the same individuals can go through all of these things throughout their lives. And here that story is told through the lens of lovecraftian horror, and within one single image ^^

[thealmightyemprex]

Top 10 Classic Theatrical Cartoon Shorts

Theatrical shorts were the backbone for American animation from the 20's to the 60's,and they created characters who were just as big of stars .When I think of 20th Century American animation ,as much as Disney dominated with their films ,I think we must pay due to the folks at Termite Terrace working for Waner Brothers ,The Fleischer Brothers, Hannah Babera ,Tex Avery and UPA (Which I just didnt have room to showcase the latter two )

Keep in mind I havent seen every cartoon ever

10.Brave Little Tailor

In this short Mickey must reluctantly take down a giant .Yeah of all the Disney shorts this one might be my favorite .I like the fairy tale its based on ,it has some good gags involving Mickey fighting the giant and I prefer Mickey when he is a more heroic type character

9.Popeye the Sailor vs Sinbad the Sailor

In this short Bluto takes on the role of Sinbad out to prove he is the superior sailor to Popeye.I love the various monsters,Sinbads song is catchy,and the action and gags are fun

8.Hair Raising Hare

Bugs Bunny is lured to a castle to be dinner for a monster (Later named Gossamer ) .I love the horror themed shorts ,this has some great gags ,and its always been a favorite

7.Snow White

Betty Boop stars in this loose take on Snow White .This short is surreal,kind of creepy,whith the stand out being Cab Calloway as Koko being turned into a monster and singing St James Infirmery

6.Birds Anonymous

Sylvester decides to give up trying to eat Tweety .THis is my fave Friz Frieling directed short as well as being my fave Sylvester short .It is a take on addiction .and I think what makes it work is the addiction is played straight and Mel Blanc gives a very solid performance,perhaps his best

5.Cat Concerto

Tom is classically trained pianist who must play while dealing with Jerry's mischief . My favorite Tom and Jerry short,at least the one I think of when thinking of Tom and Jerry

4.Mechanical Monsters

A group of robots go on jewel heists ,accidently taking Lois,so it is up to Superman to save the day .My favorite of the Superman shorts , great animation and great action ,with the robots being highly influential on various filmmakers (Including Hiyao Miyazaki )

3.The Great Piggy Bank Robbery

Daffy Duck knocks himself out imaging ihe is his comic book hero Dick Tracy .One of my fave early Looney Tunes, Bob Clampetts masterpiece ,and full of great gags and characterdesigns

2.Whats Opera Doc

An operatic take on a typical Bugs vs Elmer short . A beautiful mix of artistry and humor ,as well as an oppurtunity for Mel Blancand Arthur Q Bryant to show off their singing chops

1.Duck Amuck

Daffy Duck vs an animator .One of the most meta things I have ever seen ,keeping our main character consistant while changing well....Everything ,and it is incredibly funny

Well those are my favorites,if you have a favorite animated short feel free to share

Also tell me if you want me to talk about more animated shorts ,cause there were ones I left out

@ariel-seagull-wings @metropolitan-mutant-of-ark @amalthea9 @princesssarisa @filmcityworld1 @the-blue-fairie @storytellergirl @themousefromfantasyland @angelixgutz @marquisedemasque

[unsettledink]

A Perfect Fit - Kinktober Day 10 (Old Adages 1)

A Perfect Fit

Prompt: Size Kink

Word Count: 6176

Summary: Tony had no idea what Beck had been hiding in his pants and that— that is a tragedy. Because Tony needs to be stuffed full of that right this second.

(size kink, dick size, dirty talk, insecurity, 20ish Quentin Beck, belly bulge, bottom!Tony)

(Look, I don't know how 'size kink' turned into a whole mess of insecurity and woes of having a big dick either, ok? I sorted it out by the end at least. Tony's not going to let it get in the way of a good fuck.)

*

Tony hadn't really expected anyone to be in lab eighteen-b at this time of night, but he'd had an idea and the things he needed were there and— it's his tower, he doesn't need to ask permission to go anywhere in it.

He hadn't expected anyone to be there, and he really hadn't expected to walk around the corner and come across one of his employees jerking off. Tony freezes, not even processing the sight for a second, and then his brain is noticing all the wrong things, like how hot the guy is, how nice his tiny little gasps sound, how fucking huge his cock is. It's got to be close to ten inches, maybe more, thick as fuck, and Tony can't look away. He's just— he's always liked them big. The bigger the better, and that, that is better.

The guy moans, faintly, and opens his eyes. Opens them even wider, comically so, when he realizes Tony's there, and then he jerks, his chair rolling back as he tries to cover himself. "Oh shit!" he yelps, and then he's spinning around, his back to Tony.

"Uh," Tony says.

"Oh god," the guy mutters, and it sounds like he's trying to stuff himself back in his pants. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I— I didn't think, I mean I didn't— I shouldn't have— fuck!'

"Look," Tony says, "I wasn't trying to be a creeper, I just came down to get—" The guy turns around, and Tony should feel bad about the way his eyes immediately drop to the bulge at his crotch. The truly impressive bulge; that's got to be incredibly uncomfortable.

"Oh no," the guy says, and Tony looks at him— at his face. He looks familiar. "Fuck, you're Tony Stark," and Tony's obviously familiar to him. Tony narrows his eyes.

"Bank?" he tries. "Or— Deck? Something like that, right?" Handsome, whatever his name is, even if his face is bright, brilliant red, flushing all the way down his neck.

"Beck," the guy says, weakly. "Quentin Beck. I'm— shit, I'm sorry, I swear I don't— this isn't—" He rubs his hand over his face— not the one he was jacking off with, not that Tony notices. Not really. "Does this mean I'm fired?"

"What?" Tony says. "No, of course not," and the guy—Beck—glances over at him; wow, his eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue. No. Focus. "I mean, uh, don't do it again? Or be more careful about it next time? But jeez, I'm not going to fire you for that." Beck gives him a confused look, but his shoulders loosen a little. "Personally, this wouldn't exactly be my first choice for that sort of thing, unless you've got some sort of... lab setting kink? Is that a thing? That's probably a thing. But hey, who am I to judge, it's not like I haven't gotten off worse places."

"I don't— there's nothing hot about a lab," Beck mutters defensively. "I'm not into anything weird. I'm just— look, I'm always here and it's not like I have time to pick someone up and when I get home I'm dead on my feet, and I just, sometimes I have needs, okay?" He stops, flushing again. "Can you forget I said all of that?"

There's a point in that rambling explanation; if Beck's here at this hour, he practically lives here. "Sure," Tony says, absently. "Yeah, you're probably putting in a few too many hours. I can't really believe it'd be too hard for you to find a friend though. What with all your, ah, gifts."

"...thanks?" Beck says, frowning.

Tony blames his cock for what he says next. Or rather, Beck's cock, because he just can't get the image of it out of his mind. "You know," he adds, " you're definitely good looking and more than generously endowed, who's going to say no? I mean, it's not like I would mind a ride on that."

Beck stares at him, his mouth dropping open, and Tony replays those last couple of sentences in growing horror. "Shit," Tony says. "That's sexual harassment, isn't it. Pepper's going to murder me. Look, if you want to sue I can already tell you we'll settle easy. Well, not me, you know, lawyers, but seriously, don't let them try and shut you up for less than a couple hundred thousand."

"What," Beck says. "I— are you really telling me how to get the most money out of you if I sue?"

"Well... no?" Tony tries. "I mean, yes, I guess?" Fuck, he's completely lost track of this conversation. His mind is still just going 'but think of how it'd feel in your mouth, down your throat'.

"And you did say you'd want to— ride me? I heard that, right?"

Tony winces. "Yeah, you should probably forget I said that," he says. "Unless you don't want to? You know, suing. And. Stuff."

"I'm not going to sue," Beck says, watching him. There's a long, awkward pause, and damn, Beck's eyes really are pretty. "I— maybe I don't want to forget?"

He's blushing again, slowly creeping up. "Just so I'm clear," Tony says carefully. "You're saying you'd be... interested."

Beck licks his lips. "Yeah," he says.

Oh, goddamn, Tony thinks. This is absolutely a bad idea, but he's going to roll with it. He takes a step forward, and another, into Beck's space. Beck's a little taller than Tony; he catches the back of Beck's neck and pulls him in. Kisses him, a tentative brush of lips.

Beck's mouth opens under his when he presses a little more, his tongue sliding against Tony's, and yeah, Tony decides, he can work with this. "Right," Tony says. "We're going to need a bed. Come on."

The ride up to the penthouse should be awkward, but Beck pulls Tony right in against him, slides his hands up Tony's shirt and presses kisses all along Tony's neck, fantastic. Tony rubs forward, and he can feel Beck's dick, still at least half hard, all along his hip.

Beck was hot with his clothes on; without them, he's smoking. Sure, he's softer, not sporting a six pack or anything, but he's trim, broad shoulders and gorgeous waist and that cock— it really is a monster, just massive, and it's only getting bigger as Beck finishes getting hard, the sheer weight of it keeping it low, jutting out from his body. Tony's mouth is watering.

"Jesus," Tony mutters, giving Beck a little push toward the bed. "Take a look at that; bet you're popular when you find the time." Beck doesn't say anything as he sits on the bed, pushing himself further up, but his shoulders tense slightly. Ugh, Tony should probably watch his mouth a little. He's had a couple guys that hated feeling like all Tony wanted was their cock, had some sort of hangup about having more to offer than that. Obviously, but since Tony's never looking for something lasting with them what matters is what's about to split him open, not their winning personalities.

No point in getting into that with Beck though.

He crawls up between Beck's legs, settling on his elbows and leaning in, rubbing his face against Beck's cock. It's a nice cock, completely aside from the size, very pretty with a broad, defined head, flushed dark, not too veiny. He can't wait to get his tongue against it, sliding up under that ridge, tasting him. It’s going to make him drool like crazy, choke him, probably leave him voiceless for ages.

"Hey," Beck says. Tony glances up at him, mouth open against his cock. "You don't— you don't have to do that to get a fuck."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "And what if I just want to?" because it's not like he needs an excuse to want that thing in his mouth.

"I'm just—" Beck swallows as Tony licks him, and sure, it might be—is—a challenge but Tony's up for it. "Just saying," Beck finishes. "Don't expect to take that much of though. And don't expect me to come from it. It's fine if you want to skip to the main event."

"What, think I can't?" Tony says, and nuzzles down against the base of it; god it's <i>big.

"Most people can't," Beck says softly, like Tony is most people, please. "And I'd rather you don't throw up on it."

Tony snorts, but Beck's words don't match his tone. He pulls up enough to look at Beck, and it's unfair for him to have puppy dog eyes like that. He didn't expect Beck to be... hesitant. Most of the guys Tony’s been with that are anywhere near as hung as this are smug about— ha, cocky. 

Beck twitches again when Tony kisses the side of his cock, makes his way slowly up the length of it before he licks across the tip. "I'm not skipping over anything," Tony says, "but we can come back to this. You obviously haven't had a blowjob from me."

That earns him a little huff, but those eyes are still watching him cautiously. Yeah, he can't have that. He crawls up over Beck and taps a finger under his chin, tilting his head back. Beck's almost passive, just waiting for Tony, his hands coming up to barely rest against Tony's sides.

Whatever Beck's thing about blowjobs is, kissing— kissing he has no problem with. Kissing he's fucking fantastic at. He doesn't have any hesitation here once he figures out what Tony likes and god, it's been a long time since Tony got this caught up in making out. Beck's mouth is reddened when Tony pulls back, his hair messier, falling out of that slicked back styling, and his eyes are darker, all big and blue and gorgeous.

Tony goes with it when Beck rolls him over, pins him down and goes right on with the kissing; he's got Beck's cock along his stomach, the full length of it pressed into his skin, and Beck starts making soft noises into his mouth when Tony shifts, rubs against it. He's going to feel stuffed full when it's in him— he can’t wait.

Beck shudders, dropping his head to Tony's shoulder, and then he's crawling back; shit, what now? Tony watches as Beck down out between Tony's legs, and while he's not going to say no to Beck's mouth on his cock, he wants to be able to feel Beck's again, wants that constant reminder of its sheer size. Beck's got his hands on Tony's thighs, pushing them up a bit and— 

"Oh, fuck," Tony gasps. "God, yeah, that's— fuck," and looks like it doesn't matter what Beck's doing with it, his mouth is sinful.

Beck could eat him out for hours, Tony thinks, and that might just be his plan as it goes on and on. Tony's not complaining, not one bit, not as long as Beck keeps licking like that and pushing his tongue into Tony and moaning, muffled against Tony's ass. Not as long as he can keep his hand in Beck's hair, ruining it, keep pressing up against Beck's mouth; "Fuck," Tony mutters, "you're good at that."

There's a breath across his skin, a laugh. "You pick it up quick," Beck says, looking up at Tony, "when you need other ways to keep people happy." He's grinning, more than confident in this area— downright smug, and it's a distressingly good look on him.

He keeps that eye contact as he lowers his mouth again, pushing Tony's ass up a bit so he can watch Tony at the same time, and that is just too fucking much. Slides a finger into him, licking around it, and that is way, way too much, Tony pushing his head back into the bed, groaning as he stares up at the ceiling.

He couldn't have asked for a better way to be stretched open, couldn't have asked for someone more patient— excruciatingly patient. Sure, Tony was going to need some real work before he could take that monster, but Beck is going to kill him like this, taking his sweet time working his way up, sloppy and wet around his fingers the whole time.

"You've got actual lube somewhere, right?" Beck says breathlessly as he pulls back. Tony flaps a hand in the vicinity of the nightstand and Beck gets the idea. Comes back and slides his fingers right back in, big and warm and even slicker, leaning down and getting his mouth around Tony's cock.

"Oh, christ," Tony groans. "Don't you dare get me off like this. Wanna come on your cock, don't spoil it." Beck rolls his eyes, which should not be nearly that appealing even with his lips still on Tony's cock.

He doesn't, even if Tony feels like he's getting close a couple of times. Doesn't, and doesn't move on from his slow, lazy fingering either; Tony feels more than ready, soft and loose around Beck's fingers. "Enough," he says, finally. "I'm good, I'm more than ready. Come on, give it to me."

"Okay, okay," Beck huffs, and Tony feels like he's gaping open without Beck's fingers in him. Beck shifts around on the bed, Tony pulling his legs up further as he hears the lube pop open again, hears the wet sounds of Beck slicking himself up. And then— then it's against him, the head of Beck's cock pressing gently at Tony's hole, catching it before thrusting up the cleft of Tony's ass. Fuck, it's huge, probably the biggest Tony's ever had outside toys, and even if Beck's stretched him open to the point of obscenity it still might hurt.

He waits— and waits, and waits, Beck's hands spread wide over his thighs, his cock sliding back and forth long Tony's ass. "Quit teasing," Tony snaps.

There's nothing for a moment, another hesitation, and then a long, shaky exhale. "Right," Beck says, so quietly, and Tony glances up at him.

He doesn't look like he's having a good time, goddamnit. What is his problem? "What?" Tony asks, trying to soften it.

Beck drops his eyes, his hands tensing on Tony's thighs. Hesitates, keeps fucking hesitating. "Just," he says after a second, "this is usually where the fun part stops." He swallows, hard, breathing a little too fast. "Don't lie and say it's fine when it's not, okay? I'm not— if it fucking hurts, just—"

God, Tony feels like an ass.

He stares at Beck, at the tense set of Beck's jaw. He hadn't paid much mind to it till now, but Beck's young. Can't be much more than twenty-five, at most, and if he was a late bloomer—who's he kidding, Beck had to been a nerd—he probably hasn't done this a lot. Maybe hasn't had this go well a lot, and— what should Tony have expected, if most of Beck's partners have told him they weren't enjoying it anymore, or worse, lied about it when it had to be obvious they were hurting. If he’d wound up hurting some—any—of them, however unintentionally.  

Beck's fingers are digging into Tony's thigh, hard, and he won't look at Tony's face, and— Tony doesn't like it when his partners aren't having fun either.

"Beck," he says, and Beck fucking flinches. He gets his hand around Beck's wrist and tugs. "Come here."

"Fuck," Beck whispers, closing his eyes, but he crawls up over Tony anyway. Sinks down when Tony pulls at him, and he's so tense, right on the edge of shaking when Tony wraps himself around him. "Shit," Beck mutters, pressing his forehead against Tony's shoulder. "I'm sorry— fuck, I'm sorry, just give me a minute." He takes a deep breath, obviously trying to pull it together, and obviously failing when it comes out shakier.

"Beck," Tony says again, soft, but Beck cuts him off.

"I know," he says. "I know, you were expecting a good time and I'm— goddammit," and Tony can feel his jaw clench. "I'll— just, tell me when it hurts, okay? I know you probably think it'll be fine, but— I don't want—"

Shit, Tony thinks; 'when' not 'if'. Someone's fucked this kid up. "Quentin," Tony says, softer, sliding his hand up into Beck's hair. "Take a minute and just breathe."

Beck laughs, ugly. "This is the part where you tell me it's fine, there's other things to do, you're not disappointed," he says. "That I'm good with my mouth, so a blowjob would be great."

"No," Tony says, carefully, and this was just supposed to be a quick, fun little hookup. Why is Tony such a soft touch? "This is the part where I tell you to calm down. And then I tell you that regardless of how things may have gone for you, I've had plenty of experience with big dicks, and I'm not going to let you hurt me. I'm very fond of my ass, you know."

Beck doesn't say anything, but that's okay for now.

“Seriously,” Tony adds. “I know what I like and I know how to get it. I can handle you.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Beck mutters.

Ouch. “Yeah,” Tony say. “Yeah, I bet you have.” He turns his head, catches the edge of Beck’s ear between his teeth. Beck twitches and sets his teeth into Tony’s shoulder, and it’s nice that he still got some sass in him. “None of them were Tony Stark.”

That gets him a real laugh, if quiet. “I didn’t expect you to be so humble,” Beck snarks. That’s more like it. 

“I’m glad you can recognize it,” Tony says. “Seriously, I’m going to make sure I have a good time. You can count on me to pleasure myself.”

“Really?” Beck says, lifting his head and giving Tony a look.

“Watched that, did you?” Tony says, grinning. “I stand by it! It’s a good line!”

Beck watches him for a moment. “Do all the people you sleep with eventually figure out you’re a giant dork?”

Hardly any of them, Tony thinks. “The smart ones do,” he tells Beck. 

Beck’s relaxed a little, more from the banter than anything, Tony thinks. He always has liked smart-mouths. "Right," he says, and pokes Beck in the side. "Scoot over."

Beck rolls off him, lying on his back next to Tony. His hands come up when Tony straddles him, settling on Tony's waist like he can't help himself. Beck's cock settles against Tony's ass, massive, the tip resting at the small of Tony's back. Fuck, he can't wait; he pushes back, rubbing his ass along the length of it, slow. "Now who's teasing," Beck says.

Tony fishes around for second and comes up with the lube, half under Beck's hip. "Here," Tony says. "Get your fingers back in me, and make it as sloppy as you can." Beck's eyes flutter closed for a moment; yeah, he likes the sound of that.

Beck's fingers are big, but he'd spent so long on this already that two slip in like they're nothing, three with just enough pressure to feel. Tony doesn't really need this, but if it makes things easier for Beck to handle, he's not against it. It's not like he's suffering with Beck's fingers inside him. He fucks himself on them as Beck twists them, waits until he can feel the lube sliding out of his ass, until Beck's movements slow, distracted. "That’s it," he tells Beck, "get some more on your cock too," and the wet, squelching sounds of Beck's hand on it are promising.

Tony kneels up and gets his hand behind him, wrapped around Beck's cock, barely fucking wrapped around it. It's so slick it's hard to keep his grip; he rubs the head over his hole, back and forth, feeling the broadness of it, how it spreads him open even like this. Takes a deep breath and relaxes as much as he can. This is going to feel great, he reminds himself. It's going to feel fucking amazing once it's in him, on the way down too. He knows this.

He looks down at Beck, catching his eyes. Beck looks so tense, nervous, and no one in Tony's bed should look that worried. "Trust me," Tony says. "It's going to be fine."

It's— its so much when he presses the tip inside him. So fucking much, god; Beck's so big, so wide. It doesn't hurt, not quite, but it's incredibly intense feeling that stretch, that pressure and fullness inside him, even so little of it. He rolls his hips just the smallest bit, letting the tip slip almost out of him and back in, and Beck whines beneath him.

Beck's mouth is open, his eyes so wide, so blue as he stares up at Tony. This has to feel great for him too, like this, Tony right on the most sensitive part of his cock, and that's good. One of Beck's hands lands on Tony's calf, squeezes it gently.

Tony goes slow, goes so, so slow, sinking further onto Beck in tiny increments, up and down and further down each time. Takes his time with it and watches Beck the whole while, watches how Beck stares at him and flushes and breathes heavier, louder, with every inch Tony takes in. Fuck, Tony's breathing heavier with every inch, panting and starting to moan as it stretches him so wide, fills him up so much, insanely so. He feels oversensitive, like he can feel every single centimeter inside him, can feel the heavy pulse of it with every beat of Beck's heart. He's definitely never had one this big before.

There's a point where his legs start shaking a little, where he can't spread them as wide as he needs and keep control over how slow he takes it in; "Give me your hands," Tony gasps out, and Quentin's hands feel huge when he laces his fingers with Tony's, Tony leaning forward a bit and bracing himself against him. If it was anyone else, it could be risky putting that much on them, hoping they're not assholes and might pull him down that way, take away their bracing and let Tony fall the rest of the way in one swoop, painfully— but Beck? No fucking way.

"Okay?" Beck whispers at one point, after he'd gasped and jerked, pushing up into Tony a little. Tony nods, moans as he keeps going. It feels like Beck's cock is never going to end, and that's fantastic.

He hits that spot a moment later, that stop point he only gets with really, really big cocks, rarely, more often with toys. Presses against it, gently, and Beck's hands tighten on his painfully. "Stop," Beck says, his voice harsh. "No, stop." Tony stills, raising his eyebrows, and Beck shakes his head. "That's it," he says. "You can't take more, Tony, just— you'll hurt yourself, that's it."

"Quentin," Tony says softly, "it's not. It's— hey, listen," Beck shaking his head again. "I swear it's not; I've done this enough, okay? Trust me."

Beck's hands are still tight on his, tighter, and he's so tense against Tony's legs. Tony takes his time with this too, grinding slowly on Beck's cock, teasing himself and relaxing, not letting himself think of anything except how good it's going to feel. Pushes himself down a little more, and— there, there it goes, he can feel that shift, feel it sliding in further and further as Tony sinks down the rest of the way, his ass settling onto Beck's hips, shuddering at that sharp, shivery burst of pleasure. He moans, his eyes closing and his head falling back unconsciously.

"Oh god," Beck whispers, "oh my god, Tony— fuck, are you okay? Are you--"

He trembling under Tony, fighting not to move or scared, Tony's not sure. "I—" Tony starts, his voice cracking. "Fuck, I am so much better than okay." Beck makes a harsh noise, twitching, even that little shift feeling like a lot with Tony this full. "So much better," Tony says, can’t stop himself from talking. "Jesus Christ, you're so big. Fucking incredible, you don't even know— got me so stuffed full I can't even breathe, you feel so good, so good, oh my god."

Beck sucks in a breath, and when Tony opens his eyes, Beck looks wrecked. Looks ruined, flushed and mussed and dazed, stunned, and Tony's barely done anything.

It's a great look on him.

"I cannot wait to ride you," Tony tells him. "Fucking cannot wait to feel you come in me. You're already splitting me open and I just want you deeper. I can't remember the last time I felt this filled up, you are amazing."

"I'm— I'm amazing?" Beck sputters. "How can you even— you're amazing, you're so tight and hot and I can't believe— I cannot believe I'm so far inside you, I can't believe you like this, that this could feel as good for you as it does for me."

"Great," Tony says, starting to grind against him, and Beck moans, this perfect long, deep sound of pure pleasure that Tony's been waiting to wring from him. "Not good, great. What, you don’t hear that enough?”

Beck doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head; right, he probably hasn’t. Maybe hasn’t ever. “You’re so thick you’re pressing against everything,” Tony says. “Every single spot in me, constantly; I bet I could come just like this if I tried. And you’re so far inside me, deeper than anyone else has ever been.” 

He's starting to adjust to the feel of Beck in him, of that ridiculous, insane length inside him, that girth, so much pressure. Beck is watching him, his mouth open, and Tony wants a taste of that again. He leans forward, Beck rising up on his elbows to meet him, kissing hot and messy. Tony rocks on Beck as they kiss, little movements that still have Beck groaning into his mouth, fucking perfect. He pulls back, ready to get this show on the road, and then— has an idea, a really great idea, if he says so himself. If Beck likes the just the thought of being all the way in Tony that much, well...

Tony untangles his hands from Beck’s, leaning back and setting one behind him, against Beck's leg. Takes Beck's other hand and presses it to Tony's stomach, holds it there as he leans back a little further, shifts around, and— there, he thinks when Beck sucks in a sharp breath, right there. He grins at Beck, smugly, as he keeps Beck's hand there, right against the bulge of his cock inside Tony. "What the fuck," Beck whispers.

"Told you I was stuffed full," Tony says. "God, I am going to make you scream."

Beck licks his lips, so tempting. Presses his hand even harder into that spot and rolls his hips up, just a bit, but Tony moans at the feel of it. "Go for it," Beck says, an edge of something challenging in his voice.

Christ, that's great, he just knew Beck would be insufferable once he got his bearings. Fuck yeah. Tony snaps his hips up, Beck's breath catching, freezing in his lungs, and then it's on.

He should take his time with this, should go slow and careful and let himself adjust more. Should, and the first couple times he fucks himself on Beck's cock, he does, Beck making such pretty choked noises. But Beck's giving him this look too, this heavy, hungry look that's hot as fuck even while Tony wants to wipe it off his face, leave him unable to think. He gets close with the next rise of his hips, dropping back onto Beck fast, the full length of him so fucking good that Tony's almost the one that can't think. Gets closer when he starts riding Beck for real, working his ass on Beck's cock and this is going to ruin Tony; he can't wait.

Beck's panting, his hips moving in these sharp, short jerks, still trying to control himself as much as he can, trying not to hurt Tony. He still could, even like this; he's just that fucking big and something about that has Tony fully hard again, precome dripping down onto Beck's stomach. He's going to make this last as long as he can.

Which isn't as long as Tony's hoping, and not because he comes. No, it's his legs that give up first, protesting the way he's bouncing on Beck's cock, burning and starting to tremble, Tony getting a little less higher up each time. He settles onto Beck's cock the next go, giving himself a breather; grinds down, clenching around it. How can it just keep feeling bigger, wider? It's so deep inside him he can feel pressure in places that are entirely new. "Fuck," Tony says, "goddammit Quentin, you're going to wreck me. Going to fuck me up, get me so loose I'll never recover."

"Don't say that," Beck gasps, even though Tony can feel his cock twitch; that's amazing. The only things he’s ever had this deep are toys, and they can’t begin to compare to a real warm cock, to the person attached to it. "Don't want to hurt you."

"Did I say anything about hurting?" Tony says, rocking back and forth on him. "Did any of that sound like I don't want it? If I can sit down over the next few days I'm going to be heartbroken, you know."

Beck shudders, his hips snapping up, and Tony echoes his moan. "You're the biggest I've ever had," Tony tells him. "How the hell am I supposed to go back to something smaller after this?"

"Oh my god," Beck says. "You have the filthiest fucking mouth. Please don't stop talking."

Tony grins at him. "Don't you worry about that," he says. He clenches around Beck again, as much as he can and it feels like barely at all, like his ass has given up completely, too stretched out to even try. Beck groans.

Stares up at Tony, and there's this smile growing on his face, this— this fucking smirk. "You haven't made me scream yet," he says.

"You gotta give me a chance," Tony protests. "This isn't the sort of thing you should rush! I'm savoring having your cock in me." That's enough of a break though, and he is going to make Beck scream.

Maybe, he realizes a moment later, and has to laugh. "Alright," he says, "time for you to put in a little work." He grabs Beck's hand off his waist and settles it under his ass instead; Beck frowns at him, confused. "My legs are done for," Tony explains, and he cannot stand how hot that is, how much it turns him on that he literally cannot get off Beck's cock right now. That he's stuck there, impaled and completely at Beck's mercy, oh god. "So you're going to have to get your hands on me and fuck me on your cock yourself. Come on, get a good handful, you'll love it."

Beck gapes at him. "You— fuck, you can't— no," he says, pulling his hands away.

"No?"

"Try," Beck says, his eyes narrowed. "I want to see you try." Fuck.

He can bounce on Beck's cock a little, his legs shaking as he pushes up; can go a little further relying on his arms, but Beck is so big, so long, that Tony can't get high enough to lift off him. Can't even get to a point where he can feel the head of Beck's cock anywhere close to slipping out. "Jesus Christ," Beck breathes out. "I could just, just leave you there, just use you like a toy."

Tony moans. "Yeah," he says. "Fucking do it. Bet you can't even fit in a sleeve, but you fit in me, don't you." Beck's hands are on him then, cupped under his ass and raising him up; Tony goes limp in his hold, letting Beck do all the work. Letting Beck pull him up and up, until he's right on the tip, until it pops out of him, slow and loud and no, fuck no, he's never felt this empty in his life. He squirms in Beck's hands, feeling Beck's cock bump up against him, but not in him, not in him. "Don't," Tony gasps. "Put it back in me, fuck, need you back in me. Don't mess around, I can’t fucking stand being empty like this."

"God, give me a second," Beck says, and his hands are spreading wider on Tony's ass, his fingers catching at the edges of Tony's hole, gaping open so wide. "You're so open," Beck says, that snarky edge gone, just stunned and wanting, his fingers slipping in without even touching Tony’s rim.

"Please," Tony says, whines really. Tries to clench around Beck's fingers and they're not enough. "For fuck's sake, get your cock back in me."

“So pushy," Beck says, and then he shoves Tony over, Tony falling and landing on his back with a yelp, startled. Beck's on top of him a second later, catching his legs and pushing them up, and then he's sliding back in, one smooth thrust that's the best thing Tony's ever felt.

"Oh god," Tony gasps. "Oh fuck, fuck, just— yes," as Beck starts fucking him like that, pinning Tony down and taking him with these slow, long thrusts, almost the full length of him every time. Tony's going to die, he's going to straight up die because no one can feel this good for long. He's babbling something, barely even conscious of it until Beck kisses him, silences him and pants into his mouth as he fucks Tony. Nearly perfect, so near; "Harder," Tony mumbles against Beck's lips. "Harder."

He gets harder, he gets harder and faster and agonizing, these brutal thrusts that feel like they're splitting him open, like they could go right through him. He gets it and wants more, still more; like this, every thrust rubs against his prostate, Beck too big, too thick to keep from doing so, and Tony's going to fucking come like this. Going to just white out like this and dammit, Beck's going to make him scream. He clings to Beck, moaning, his eyes opening as he starts to feel that first unstoppable burst of feeling, spreading. "Fuck," he chants, “fuck!” and then Beck realizes, slows like he's not going to fuck Tony through it. "Don't stop," Tony manages, "don't— oh, god!”

It hurts, how hard he comes, hurts in the best way, spreading through him as he shakes and tightens around Beck's cock, comes on it just like he'd wanted since the second he saw it.

He has to tell Beck not to stop again once Tony's gone limp, has to tell him how much he wants Beck to keep fucking him, even as Tony whimpers helplessly with each thrust. "Not hurting," he tells Beck breathlessly. "Not— god please don't stop, need to feel you come in me, fuck it deep in there." He feels like Beck's turning him inside out every time he pulls out, is hollowing him out every time he pushes in, and it’s barely any time at all before Beck comes; Tony can feel it, can feel how Beck's cock twitches and pulses inside him, Beck shoving in hard. He can feel Beck's come filling him up even more, and he'd bet good money it won't work its way out for ages, so deep inside Tony it could get lost forever.

Beck's still too much of a nice kid; Tony thought it might have gotten fucked out of him, but post nut it comes creeping in. He tries to push up off Tony, pull out, and Tony's not having it. "Don't you dare," he says. "I'm keeping you in me as long as I can."

"Jesus, Tony," Beck mumbles, his face pressed along Tony's, talking into his hair. "Could stay in you forever, I can't believe how amazing you feel. I've never felt this good in my life."

"Told you," Tony says, and Beck laughs.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, you were right about that. You really could handle me. Fuck, I can't— didn't even know I could, didn't think I'd ever fit all inside someone."

He's going softer by the second, Tony feeling the lack acutely. "Screw not sitting for a few days," Tony says. "I'm going to be out of commission for a week. Incredible."

Beck shudders, turning to press his mouth to Tony’s neck, press soft, lazy kisses there as they unwind.

"I have to warn you," Tony says after a while, Beck having slid off to the side a bit but still heavy on Tony, not that Tony minds. "I am going to need a repeat. Several repeats. I mean, you can't expect me to be satisfied with anything less now. Not when you're on the menu."

Beck twitches, and Tony can feel him starting to smile into Tony's shoulder. "I think we can manage that," he says, and Tony is a lucky, lucky man.

[cherrymagik]

How tua tv show ruined hotel oblivion

Before I say anything: THIS IS IN NO WAY AN ATTACK TOWARDS ANYONE YOU ARE 100% FREE TO ENJOY WHATEVER CONTENT YOU WANT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION AND YOU ARE FREE TO DISAGREE (just don’t be an asshole abt and we’re good) also SPOILERS!!! for both tv show and comics

(a while back I saw a post by @fivehargreeves and i have since then been putting off this post bc i want to elaborate on it but i am too lazy and i know i never really post stuff here but this is something i feel really strongly abt especially after that s2 finale)

When I first read the umbrella academy comics one of the things I loved the most about was the world building. It was so crazy and weird (in a good way) and while I still loved the story and characters, for me the most fascinating part of them was the world. It was a world so much like ours, yet completely different and the little details in the background or those offhand mentions of aliens or other "weird" stuff made the tua world feel more alive and interesting. So obviously when n*tflix announced they were adapting the comics into a show i was thrilled. But when I watched it I was... disappointed to say the least :/

Ex. 1 The Umbrella Academy's debut- In the comics, the first time the world met the umbrella academy was when "the day Eiffel Tower went berserk" (literally)

It turns out the Eiffel Tower had been a spaceship all along establishing the first villain in the comics: Zombie Robot Gustave Eiffel. But the innthe tv show we get.... a bank robbery 😐 (not as impressive as the Eiffel Tower imo) THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE SUPERHEROES FOR GODS SAKE! Why are they fighting petty crime? Let them fight the Eiffel Tower you cowards!!!

Ex. 2 The Orchestra Verdammten- (@/fivehargreeves post talks specifically abt this issue and summarizes most of my thoughts so i will say very little on this point) In the comics the main antagonist for vol.1 was an orchestra made up of musicians who had gone crazy (for one reason or another) and gone missing after joining the Orchestra Verdammten. But once again the villain is replaced with something very common and might I say mediocre. This as we will see is a running thing in the show: make most of the elements that made the comics stand out and replace them with more common/normal elements.

Ex. 3 Watering down/changing most characters' powers- Would you believe me if I told you it was Klaus that stopped the moon from colliding with earth? No you wouldn’t because in the tv show his powers are so... useless. And he was not the only one who’s powers got watered down (even though he is one of the most notable examples)

Luther/Spaceboy: his powers remain the same (as far as we have seen) however I am detaching points bc i don’t like how his character arc was handled in the show

Diego/The Kraken: first of all WHY THE FUCK DO YOU THINK HES CALLED THE KRAKEN -A MARINE MONSTER- YOU IDIOTS???!!! but seriously, why did they ever think it was a good idea to ever change his powers? It takes away so much from his character! Diego’s power is breathing underwater not whatever object manipulation bullshit they gave him in the show. His powers have NOTHING to do with knife throwing yet he is still as good at it in the comics as in the show; he got that good just from practice. He obsessive with his goals and we don’t get to see that in the show bc they completely changed his powers!!! They just took part of The Séance's and gave them to him! (@/fivehargreeves also has another post on this so go check it out bc it’s better worded than mine)

Allison/The Rumor: Oh my god I could talk about her all day and how dirty they did her in the tv show!!! In the comics Allison has the power to alter REALITY ITSELF

see: (click images to view)

she manifested a whole ass statue to life! And in vol.2 (the Kennedy assassination one) she was the one that killed Kennedy! She made his head explode just by rumoring him. But noooooo they had to sideline her in s2 so they could pursue a side plot for 'wokeness points' (i am happy that they dealt with the racism she would most likely have faced in the 1960's BUT they took away ALL her protagonism in the comics and had her be a minor character) if it hadn’t been for Allison the world would have ended -> murdering Kennedy was the only way to save the world

Klaus/The Séance: ugh where do i start? Klaus is extremely powerful in the comics, like I said he was able to stop the moon from colliding with earth. Not only did they have his powers watered down, they also took away all his telekinetic abilities in the show. Also, the only way his powers can be blocked is when he’s wearing shoes not drugs (i also want to point out that the way his addiction is treated in the show is weird and sometimes even uncomfortable to me but that is another topic for another time). His ability to summon the dead are almost nothing like in the show as compared to the comics he is called The Séance you know but whatever where he not only does he speak TO the dead he can also MANIFEST them through him which was probably the most important factor in stopping Vanya/The White Violin in Apocalypse Suite + not giving him his EXTREMELY WELL DESERVED FAME!!! 😤 THE AUDACITY!!! (I have talked abt Klaus before on another post)

Number Five: I don’t have much to say about him except that he is a lot darker in the comics and not as loving about his family as they make him in the show *cough* shooting vanya in the head *cough* but for the most part.... he’s fine ig (my main problem is they make him idk? too playful(?) in s1 when he actually he is all dry humor and dark jokes)

Ben/The Horror: doesn’t really appear in the comics so nothing to say here

Vanya/The White Violin: not including her transformation in the show was cowardly and having her be manipulated by a man was uh kinda problematic if I may say so. We only ever see her use her powers in vol.1 since she was crippled by getting shot in the head at the end of it and hasn’t been able to do much since then. Her story has been completely changed in the show and i am still not completely sure i like it. Her dealing with trauma and coming to terms with her childhood are quickly brushed away and not really delved into as opposed to the comics where she is still trying to process it

Ex. 4 Technology- The World in the comics is a lot more sci-fi than in the show where it almost an exact copy of ours. For one: the chimpanzees. In the comics Pogo isn’t the only one, we can see a lot of others in the background

Also stuff like the televator or the hotel oblivion are never mentioned or alluded to in the show

Now to get to the main point of this post: IT IS IMPOSSIBLE AT THIS POINT THAT THE TV SHOW WILL BE ABLE TO FOLLOW HOTEL OBLIVION'S PLOT BECAUSE IT DEPENDS ON THERE BEING VILLAINS!!!

This are superhero comics! Maybe we don’t see them fighting all the villains that appear in hotel oblivion, but the fact is that they are there! They are part of the world and part of what makes it breathe and come alive on the pages. To paraphrase (albeit a VERY simplified paraphrase) Watchmen (don’t tell me it didn’t influence tua bc IT DID and i can prove it) 'if there are superheroes then there are villains' especially in a world where superpowers exist and technology is a lot more advanced than in watchmen where they were all normal people (with the exception of dr. manhattan). But by dumbing down the world in the show we are left with a flavorless setting that has no effect whatsoever on the plot (compared to the comics). Maybe some aspects like the Sparrow Academy will be included (I am kinda scared to think where they will go with it) but it won’t be Hotel Oblivion. In s1 I could point out where the comics had influenced the show, hell even in s2 you could see the comic's influence but... Hotel Oblivion? I don’t see any possibility of it getting to tv and that’s the truth

[thestarkerisobvious]

The Thing That Lives Under The Bed -- The Conclusion

This it the Coda for The Thing That Lives Under The Bed.

Did you wonder what Peter and his friends did once they got their hands on ALL those spellbooks?  Maybe you were curious what would happen if Peter performed the spell of the Kings of the East and the King of the West, splitting Tony in two?

I will be posting one chapter a day #OnHere, in honor of the place where the story began.

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

                                               Adulthood

                                   The Trap and The Bait

In addition to realizing that he is in love with the thing that lives under his bed, Peter Parker and his friends have also discovered an underground library full of spellbooks, spirits calling out to be freed and the promise of any number of superpowers.

You may be wondering what they did next.

You are getting closer to the answer.

The twenty-six year old High-High Priest could have simply run down the path, but sometimes Peter Parker was just overcome with the need to leap around like a character from a comic book.  Under any other circumstances Angel would have complimented him.  Certainly Angel had read his fair share of comics himself (from Monica’s and Peter’s childhood stashes.  Angel prided himself on the fact that he could hold up in own in any heated Bob Keen vs Alan Moore debate) but, at the moment, the only image in his mind was that of a mouse in a trap. 

Peter was wearing the same suit that he had arrived home in, the same one he usually wore on Capitol Hill when he was schmoozing senators about the Clean Water act or another EPA bill.  The tie was gone, and the shirt was opened at the collar.  The suit itself should have been rumpled from his journey through the trees, but it must have been one of the enchanted ones.  Not that Peter Parker would have minded in any case.  It wasn’t his only expensive suit.

He was devastatingly handsome in the moonlight, but Angel knew that the man was devastatingly handsome everywhere.  Everyone thought so.

The weak and infirm flocked to the Lavern Post Healing Center from far and wide.  Either they were healed by Dr. Cyprian, or they were convinced by Laura-Bee that it was their destiny to find treatment elsewhere.  But all them, every one, commented on Peter Parker and his movie-star good looks.  Even Matty, the High Priest, reluctantly admitted that, even though he stayed behind to cast the convincing-spells, it was Peter’s good looks that really opened doors for him when Peter set out for [the directions to the White House.]  Laura-Bee, of course, was always happy to tell, in loving detail, about the first time she had laid eyes on handsome Peter Parker.  About the day the first met, about how they were childhood sweethearts.

Laura’s super-power was mesmerism, and she didn’t use it very often.  

But when she told stories of her childhood, you couldn’t help but feel like you were falling right into her memory.  As if you, yourself were walking home from Robert E Lee school, walking down the dirt road, desperate to hold Peter’s hand lovingly and listen to him describe every detail of Silent Spring.  Every long-time member of the Post Homestead had heard that story.  Maybe that's why every member of the Post Homestead felt like they had been in love with Peter Parker their entire life.  That Peter Parker was the only man they had truly ever loved, and that they, too, would be married to Peter if Peter weren’t married to Dr. Tony Cyprian.

And they were.  In love with Peter Parker, even if only for a little while.  Every guest seemed to fall for him too, if not romantically… well... they all seemed to be a little hot for him.  Even the guests that chose to stay in the Abe Sexton Library suites (recommended for all the straight-laced practitioners, the ones who weren’t interested in the Homestead’s attitude toward sexual freedom) lay in their beds and night and fantasized about the devastatingly handsome and dead-sexy Peter Parker.  Angel knew. 

Angel knew it all.

And Angel was certainly in love with the man himself.

Which was ridiculous, of course.  Imagine… being hopelessly in love with the Peter Parker, the man loved by politicians, Disciples and demons.  Fabulously wealthy parishioners flocked to him to be rid of their pain and their guilt, side by side with big-name lawmakers from Capitol Hill, all succumbing to his charm and openly trying to introduce him to their daughters.  Imagine a man like that even looking twice at him.  At him, a scrawny, dirty, sunken-eyed miscreant with a wild unruly hair and a perpetually bad attitude.

Of course, Peter Parker was looking at him now.

His handsome face looked perplexed, taking in Angel, the lapping water, and then the rock.  He looked back at Angel, barefoot and trembling at the water’s edge.  He didn’t look angry at all, but he did look like a man in a hurry.  He was panting a little.  Gracefully he stepped down to the sand where Angel stood.

“Angel?  Sweetheart… what are you doing?”

“I don’t want to go back,” Angel cried out.  Hating the petulant, childish sound of his voice, hating the way his throat felt too tight to speak at all.  “I won’t go.  You can’t make me.”

“What are you talking about?  Of course I could make you…”

For just a moment, Angel saw it.

Peter Parker was a handsome man with kind eyes (and he could be kind, oh he could be so very kind) but he was also a master magician, the leader of a coven of magicians, each commanding their own army of spirits.  (Any minute now Angel was expecting Plucky to turn the plants into bindweed to hold him down or Moonlight to appear and force him back to the ceremony with silent, pleading eyes.)  Peter Parker wasn’t just the darling of Capitol Hill and a brilliant environmentalist crusader, rubbing elbows with chieftains and royalty and Heads of State.  He was also a formidable wizard who had summoned his first demon at the age of 13, a man of incredible natural power, a man feared by mortals and devils alike.

For just a moment Angel saw that man, that other powerful man, flash across Peter’s face.

Then it was gone.

“But I don’t want to make you.  I’m not going to give you orders.  You’re not my slave.  But… but I don’t understand...”  His face and his voice was gentle as he stepped closer.   “Angel, please help me understand what’s happening.  You’ve never run away from a ritual before.  We called for you, but you were nowhere.  Even Anton couldn’t say where you were.  What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to… please.  Please, I don’t want to go.  I know what the High Priest wants to do to me.  I know what Anton is going to do to me – I know what the bones are for.  The black-cat bones.  The ones you keep in the back of the refrigerator  Please, Mr. Parker, please don’t make me.”

“Mr. Park…?”  Peter looked completely baffled.  He took a few hesitant steps forward, until he was almost within arms reach.

He didn’t look in the least bit out of place, wearing that expensive, glad-hander suit and standing on the banks of the lake by moonlight.  But Peter Parker never looked out of place anywhere.  He had a very convincing personality.

Angel was almost convinced himself.

“Baby, you’re confused.  Why would you be afraid of… I don’t even…why are you calling me Mr. Parker?  Oh god…”

He looked behind him at the black sky.  The moon, one day passed full, shown down on them like an all-seeing eye.  He groaned. “I waited too late, dammit I knew I shouldn’t have.  And you’re shaking like a leaf, just look at you…”

Peter reached for him and Angel started to back away, but then his bare feet splashed in the water.  He yelped in terror and leapt away from it.  That meant there was nowhere else to go, but directly into Peter’s arms.

Peter pulled him close, easily fitting Angel’s head into the crook of his neck, wrapping muscular arms around Angel’s skinny body and pulling him close.  There was no helping it.  Angel wrapped his boney arms around Peter’s body and clung to him, shivering.

“Oh god, I told them not to feed you but… I made a mistake, didn’t I?  I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed in Kenya for so long, I pushed it too far, I’m so sorry.  The things Princess Shuri told me were so huge… it was all so important and I thought I had more time.  Matty told me I had more time.  Amado,I didn’t mean to hurt you.  This is all my fault.  Please forgive me.  I should have taken better care of you.”

Angel pressed his slight body against the firm body of the taller man and held himself there.  Against that strength, he thought he could manage to stop shaking.  He even managed to pull one hand away long enough to wipe the tears away from his cheek (then snuck that hand up to touch Peter’s face shyly for a moment.)  “Did… did you?  Get to meet with Princess Shuri at the consulate?  Are we going to be protecting the black rhinos now?”

A look passed over Peter’s face, a look Angel had never seen before.  For a moment Peter looked… doubtful. 

“She wasn’t there to talk about the rhinos,” he said quietly, look away, gazing out at the moonlit lake.  “It was a trap.  Well… not a trap, but… but Shuri was definitely the bait.”

“She betrayed you?”  Angel asked in horror.  He would be angry, would be shaking in impotent rage... if he weren’t so surprised.  How could anyone deceive the High-High Priest?   How could anyone meet Peter Parker and not adore him with everything they had inside?

The strong man laughed ruefully.  “I don’t suppose it’s really ‘betrayal’ to lie to a man you’ve met twice because your brother asks you to do it. 

“Angel... Shuri and T'Challa are… well the word is “enhanced” now.  I suppose ‘superhero’ sounds too childish.  But T'Challa is just like me… we both inherited some ancient magic that was a hell of a lot bigger than we ever expected and a hell of a lot more than we ever bargained for.  Trust me, we talked for hours.  Unlike me, he grew up knowing what he was getting into… but he’s still been given a lot more than he wanted.  And just like me…”

Peter’s arms tightened around Angel has looked sadly at his domain.  He looked into the forest, across the lake, then up at Dead Oak Hill, bathed in the erie torchlight.  “… we just want to be left alone to play Comic-Books with our friends in our own tiny corner of the world that we’re king of..  Unlike me, he thinks he’s ready to join the grown-ups in the real world.  I’m not so sure.  Angel they want me to…”

He caught himself suddenly, as if he had forgotten who he was talking to.  He shook his head.  “I can’t really talk about it yet.  But it’s big, Angel.  It’s really big.  I can’t tell the others until I’ve talked to Tony.  Which means I have to take care of you first.  Look at you…”

Peter tightened his arms again, gazing into Angel’s eyes with a tender look.  He brushed his lips against Angel’s forehead in a tiny kiss.

“Angel,” he whispered, “…are you afraid?  What on earth could you be afraid of?  Nothing scares you.  You’re fearless.  Baby, please tell me what’s going on.”

Angel looked up into Peter’s face, so perfect and so beautiful in the moonlight.  He struggled to remember… he had been afraid, only now he couldn’t quite remember why.  There was something wrong with him, something terribly wrong, but now he couldn’t quite remember…

…until he did.

“Don’t let them send me away… please don’t.  I don’t want to go, please don’t make me go through the ceremony.  Please, Peter.  I can’t.  I can’t leave you.

“I love you,” he blurted, choking on the confession.  He found himself blushing, his whole body flushing at the secret words said aloud.  “I love you so much.  I know I’m not… I know I’m not anyone… I know I’m just a ragged, spoiled-rotten kid that weighs next to nothing and bugs everybody and I know I’m a constant nuisance and I know that I’m not someone important like a princess or a senator… but I love you.  I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you.”

Peter’s forehead wrinkled in concern, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

“Angel, Angel sweetheart, do you see?   You’re so confused baby… oh can you… oh god how is this happening?? 

“Angel, how could you forget that I love you?”

Peter’s mouth on his was sweet and gentle and warm.  The kiss was tender and loving and everything Angel had imagined it would be.  Peter’s arms were strong and solid and he held Angel as if he never wanted to let him go.  It was a dream come true…

…and that was the problem.  Frantically Angel pulled away, trying to look around him.  Maybe this was a dream… maybe Laura-Bee was there with him, holding his hand and telling him the story, over and over and over again, of how she had fled across Lovesick Lake on the darkest night of her life, and there found the man that could take all her fear away just by holding her hand. 

But Laura wasn’t there.  He and Peter were alone in the moonlight, kissing on the banks of Virgin Lake.  Peter was warm and strong and solid and suddenly all Angel could think was… hadn’t they done this all before?  Hadn’t they held each other like this, kissed each other like this, on the same night as the ceremony?  Was that why it felt so much like a memory?

“Do you remember Amado?” Peter was whispering.  “Try… try to remember.”

“I can’t… I don’t… I keep reaching for it, but it’s not there…” Angel said through his tears.  Peter pulled him close again, tucking Angel’s head in the crook of his neck and rocking him back and forth.

“This is my fault,” he said, stroking Angel’s hair and kissing his head over and over again.  “It’s because I was sick the day of the spell, isn’t it?  I was still getting over the food poisoning, I was still weak… god I should have let Matty do the spell but I was too jealous and now look what’s happened…”

Angel was so surprised he pulled back enough to look into Peter’s face.  He wasn’t sure what startled him more, the fact that Peter could get sick, or that Peter had been jealous… of Matty?  Of Matty… and him?

“I can’t believe how badly we messed this up.  It’s always gone so smoothly, but this time…

“Angel… you told us that you had to focus on eating this year.  So you couldn’t get distracted by everything else, so you could concentrate on taking care of yourself and making yourself strong.  But all we did was make you hungry and miserable all the time, and now you’re dressing in rags and lying to everybody… Angel try to remember.”  He reached up with one hand to cup Angel’s cheek.  Angel leaned into the warm touch, closing his eyes against the pain in Peter’s face.

“You told us that if we could make you forget about the world outside the border, that you’d be content, and not feel rejected or left out while the others worked.  It was your job to stay here, to focus on yourself and to get strong.  But look at you.  You’ve forgotten what you’re supposed to be doing, you don’t remember who you are.  You’ve forgotten that you are a fierce and powerful force… and, god, you forgot that I love you…”

“I do remember, I do!  I remember you love me,” Angel said quickly, grabbing Peter’s face and kissing him hard, not because he remembered, but because he couldn’t bear the sound of Peter’s broken voice.  He only wanted Peter to be happy, couldn’t stand the idea that he had made the man feel sad.

Peter wrapped one arm around Angel’s waist and pressed their bodies together.  Angel moaned at the sensation and willingly opened his mouth to Peter’s kiss. 

Maybe it didn’t matter what he did or didn’t remember.  He certainly wasn’t the first person to come to the Lavern Center to pay Dr. Cyprian to take terrible memories away, only to be extremely confused afterwards because they couldn’t remember what they had paid for.  Maybe he was even one of the wealthy clientele… (but he suspected he was more likely one of Peter’s charity cases.)  But he knew one thing, he wasn’t going to argue endlessly about it.  Year after year he had watched Laura-Bee argue patiently, then not-so-patiently, as she made her annual pilgrimage to the secret library behind Peter’s office where the reports were locked away.  That was the place for everyone else who had benefited from the Memory Therapy, but not for her.  She had never even been to that room.  Had never seen it before.  

Once a year she went to that room, arguing all the way.  Once a year she sat down to listen to Monica read all the things that had been written down for her.  Once a year she had to remember that she had never been BORN Laura Foster, but legally changed from Hortense Lovelace to Laura Foster-Beeker, the day she turned 18.  All because of something horrible that her father had done, a memory she had chosen to give up completely, a memory she never wanted returned.

And he could do the same, couldn’t he?  Ask to go to the locked file cabinets to see what he had written down, to see what he had forgotten. 

But not just now.

Just now he wrapped his arms around Peter’s neck (and all but wrapped one leg around his waist) and pressed his entire body against Peter’s hard, solid form.  He didn’t feel ragged or shaky or hungry when he was with Peter.  He felt safe and warm and strong.

Just as strong as he felt during the Great Ceremony, he was sure of it.  The one day a year that four disciples were back at the homestead at the same time, Matthew Mark Luke and John, Matty and Sarah D and Doctor Wickham and Monica, each a powerful magician in their own right, each with multiple spirits at their command.  Along with Peter and Laura-Bee they would sing their way through the spells, adding their voices to the beautiful, practiced harmonies that the second circle magicians had prepared for the occasion.  For hours they would sing until the sky was full of fairy lights, until their spirit-servants were vibrating in a counter melody until the whole forest rang with power and promise.   He remembered… how the singing would last long into the night, even after the moment of the solstice was over, even after seals were recast, even after each task was done.  How they would continue singing for the sheer joy of it, for nothing other than the pleasure they felt when they stood and created together.   How they would promise each other, NO REALLY this time they meant it, that they would come together more than once a year. Reveling in the sheer power that they had when they stood side by side, when they joined their voices together.

The Great Ceremony, that was due in less than a week.  That’s why they were saying good-bye to each other.  That’s why…

“We came here and you kissed me good-bye,” Angel murmured against Peter’s mouth.  Then he pulled away a little, looking around the moonlit hills.  That’s who he had been looking for, that was his memory.  The tall, strong man was Peter.  Peter was holding Angel in his arms.  They had come to the lake for a private moment alone before the ceremony.  He had been seeing the memory of them.

“Did we?” Peter said, his forehead creasing in concentration even as he smiled.  “Oh yes, we did.  That was two years ago.  We should do it every year. I love kissing you here.

“Angel,” he said, bringing his hands up again to cup Angel’s face.   “John and I will study the spell and we will absolutely do it right next time.  You can’t ever forget that I love you.  Of all of them, you’re the only one who ever says it back to me, and I treasure it.  You can’t understand how much I treasure it.  It means so much to me, precious.  I don’t think you know how much I love you.”

“But you don’t,” Angel said, even as Peter brought their mouths together again.

“You don’t love me.”  His arms were too weak to push a strong man like Peter with any force, but he did his best.  He pushed Peter away from him as hard as he could, fighting back the tears.

“You don’t love me, you love him.”

“What the… the hell?” Peter stammered, angry and baffled.  “What is this about?  You’ve never once had a problem with… wait… love who?”

“You love him.  You love Dr. Cyprian.”

If he weren’t so distraught Angel would have laughed at the face Peter made now.  It was comical.

“I love… Tony?  This is about Tony?  You can’t really…”

He stopped himself short and shook his head, hard.  It was a gesture Angel knew too well… it meant that Peter was looking at a long, pointless argument and deciding to skip past it and get to the end.

 “Yes,” he said decidedly.  “I love Tony.  He’s the first man I ever loved.  He’s my Significant Other, my David.  He’s my husband, Angel.  He’s my whole world, and not just because he’s the only reason why any of this works,” he said, throwing his hands out and gesturing around him at the lake, the forest, the moonlight.  “He’s my whole world because he is my best friend, and I HAVE to talk to him… I have to talk to him tonight.  I have to make the biggest decision of my life, and… look!” he said with a painful laugh.  “I’m here!  I’m here, at the center of it all, in the place where I always make the big earth-shattering life-changing decisions!  Except he's gone so he isn’t here to tell me what he thinks! 

“I have to go back and tell the others, Angel.  I have to tell them what Princess Shuri wants me to do and I can’t tell them until I talk to Tony and instead of talking to him I’m standing here arguing nonsense with you.  We’re going back now.  We’re going back and we’re finishing the ritual and when it’s over you’ll understand.” 

“Not yet we’re not,” Angel said boldly, stepping into Peter’s arms and kissing him hard.  Maybe he had been fearless once, just like Peter said.  He certainly felt fearless now as he shamelessly reached down and cupped Peter’s erection, working it with skillful fingers.  He remembered, now.  Remembered that this powerful man, the man that commanded all of them, humans and spirits alike…

…this man was his lover.  Only a week ago, just before they had left for the Kenyan Consulate, Angel  had crept into Peter’s bed and gotten everything he had asked for.  And it hadn’t been the first time, either.  More than once Peter had given in to him when he begged… and oh… what Peter gave him was so sweet.

[aion-rsa]

The Dark Knight: Why Heath Ledger’s Joker is Still Scary Today

https://ift.tt/2MFoX6l

It’s one of the great villain introductions in cinema history. Standing with a slight hunch at the center of a massive 70mm image, Heath Ledger’s interpretation of the Joker not so much dominates the frame as he commandeers it. He seduces the IMAX camera, which is still capturing vast amounts of Chicago’s cityscape around him, and draws it closer to his sphere of influence, and by extension us. Before this moment in Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight, the director’s Gotham City functioned with clocklike precision. Even its greatest villains were slaves to the need of rationalizing everything in cold, utilitarian logic.

Not the Joker.

Within our first breath next to Ledger’s clown, one senses a malevolent spirit has been summoned, and he’s chosen to manifest out of thin air at this exact moment, on this exact street corner. He’s come to claim Gotham’s collective soul, but he’ll settle for any individual with delusions of virtue who crosses his path—including you.

This is of course just a fleeting moment in The Dark Knight; a brisk tease before Ledger’s shown his makeup-encrusted face or uttered even a word. In fact, Nolan and the actor dole out the character with impressive restraint: first as a masked Mephistopheles who is primarily a sing-song-y voice until he unmasks at the end of a bravura bank robbery. Later he becomes an actual narrative presence when he shows up again more than 20 minutes into the film, demonstrating for Gotham’s criminal underworld how to perform a magic trick.

As an isolated performance, there’s an argument to be made that none has ever been finer in the realm of superhero movies. Sure, there’ve been showy turns before and since in comic book blockbusters; there have even been great interpretations of the Joker before and after Ledger. Yet what the actor was able to do in 2008 transfixed audiences because he, like the character, had the freedom to bend the film to his will—even as Nolan prevented the movie from simply becoming merely a showcase for the performance.

With the grungy strung out hair of an addict who hasn’t showered in three months, greasy self-applied pancake makeup, and a grisly Glasgow smile that’s as unnerving as it is uneven (suggesting perhaps half of it was self-inflicted to make a matching set of scars), Ledger’s anarchist supervillain was a long way from Jack Nicholson’s hammy version of the same character in 1989. For audiences, and even comic book fans baying for something darker than Nicholson, it was abrasive in its time—and electrifying, like a punk rocker leaping into the mosh pit. Indeed, Ledger reportedly based the character’s appearance in part on the Sex Pistols’ Johnny Rotten, and there is more than a hint of Tom Waits’ gravel in Ledger’s cadence whenever the clown growls.

But more than aesthetic culture shock, the enduring horror (and not-so-secret appeal) of Ledger’s Joker lies in the effect he has on the film, both in terms of its narrative storytelling and its enduring pop culture standing. Speaking strictly about this Joker as a character, the villain is off screen for far more of The Dark Knight’s running time than he’s on it. Appearing in only 33 minutes of The Dark Knight’s epic 152-minute running time, the average length of a Hollywood spectacle passes without the Joker on screen. Yet he’s omnipresent in the film, a shadow that hangs over each of Nolan’s three relatively equal protagonists: vigilante Batman (Christian Bale), police lieutenant James Gordon (Gary Oldman), and district attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart).

Nolan and his brother and co-screenwriter, Jonathan Nolan, have admitted the setup is somewhat inspired by another quintessential blockbuster, Steven Spielberg’s Jaws. In both films, three disparate, combative male authority figures band together for a mythic battle against a presence so malignant and evil, it transcends being simply a shark or a madman in makeup—or even a comic book supervillain. Like that beast, Joker has no arc, no psychological growth, he’s a force of primal evil unbounded. And as the heroes’ battle against him creeps on, it seems like the sanity of their entire community is being dragged into the abyss.

This framing allows Ledger’s Joker to functionally be a catch-all stand-in for many of the social anxieties that kept American audiences up at night during the Bush years. Some of them still do today. There are of course obvious implications to the Joker being the terrorist, the non-state actor who cannot be negotiated with, and who doesn’t play by preconceived rules or notions of fairness. There is also shading of the lone wolf, the usually male gunman who inexplicably pulls the trigger. Most of all though, the Joker represents the hole in which much of humanity’s irrational predilections toward violence is collectively stored and ignored by our cultural memory… until it can’t be.

As Michael Caine’s Alfred Pennyworth famously reasons, “Some men aren’t looking for anything logical like money. They can’t be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.” That summation of staring into irrational, needless cruelty is what gives The Dark Knight bite. And what a sharp bite it is in moments like when Ledger’s Joker laughs manically at the Batman, our ostensible hero who’s resorted to pummeling (or torturing) the villain in an interrogation room. The clown gloats, “You have nothing to threaten me with, nothing to do with all your strength.”

This is why the Joker is such an effective villain for The Dark Knight’s parable about how best to use moral power in immoral (i.e. irrational) times—and perhaps why the thrill of Ledger’s performance was so strong on first glance that it powered him all the way to a posthumous Oscar in the Best Supporting Actor category seven months after the film’s release.

Still, Ledger’s Joker, more than any other movie villain in recent memory, continues to haunt well after that Oscar night. The mental image of the character slipping his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, like a cobra, and licking his scars—a tic Ledger invented to keep his prosthetics in place while upping the creep factor—has stayed with us like a subconscious boogeyman. Thirteen years on from The Dark Knight’s release, Ledger’s depiction of the Clown Prince of Crime has gone down in the annals of cinema alongside Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal Lecter in The Silence of the Lambs or, well, that shark in Jaws again. He’s an enigmatic and mysterious persona who is barely seen in his film, yet unmistakably casts a pall of evil over the whole proceeding.

We don’t know why Ledger’s Joker actually became the way he is, or what made him so obsessed with the Batman—to the point where he was inspired to put on “war paint” and declare his love for the Caped Crusader by saying, “You complete me!” The Joker gives multiple versions of his origin story in The Dark Knight, telling one mobster played by Michael Jai White that he’s a victim of an abusive father while later recounting to Rachel Dawes (Maggie Gyllenhaal) that he scarred his own face to cheer up his similarly disfigured wife. Both tales are of course lies, transparent manipulations intended to prey upon perceived vulnerabilities in his victims. This touch was inspired by Alan Moore and Brian Bolland’s The Killing Joke where the comic book Joker provides the reader with a sob story flashback, and then confesses he probably made it up.

“If I’m going to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice,” he says on the page.

Read more

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Joker: 6 Actors Who Have Played the Clown Prince of Crime

By David Crow

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The Dark Knight, The Joker, and Game Theory

By Ryan Lambie

The Nolan brothers understand the horror of this, and they keep the Joker a manipulative and inscrutable evil. Beyond obvious sociopathic tendencies, we know nothing about his inner-psychology and barely can ferret out his real motives beyond an odd devotion to maintaining Batman’s attention. He claims to be an agent of chaos who wants to “just do things,” yet his meticulously planned attacks belie this claim. In the end, he sees himself in a battle for “Gotham’s soul.” Like Amity Island’s Great White Leviathan, or the original incomprehensible nature of Thomas Harris’ cannibal serial killer in the earliest books, we never know the truth about why he is, and how he’s able to do what he does.

That mystery makes him live on in our own heads for years after the story ends and the credits roll.

It’s interesting to consider that effect now, after years of pop culture storytelling going in the completely opposite direction, particularly in comic book movies and other fanboy-driven media. Rather than find satisfaction in the inexplicability of evil, or standalone visions, we like to rationalize it and sympathize with it, even while glorifying it. Most of all, however, we insatiably seem to simply want more.

The need for endless content being generated by intellectual property has led to prequels, sequels, and even spinoffs that explore and too often redeem villains. Even the Joker himself is not wholly immune to this.

Since 2008, there have been two big screen versions of the Joker. Jared Leto and Joaquin Phoenix both had the unenviable task of stepping into Ledger’s shadow, with at least one of them being dwarfed by it. Leto’s attempts at “method acting” stunts on the set of Suicide Squad shows what can go wrong when scenery-chewing is mistaken with Strasberg.

Phoenix obviously fared better in his own Joker movie two years ago, making the actor the second performer to win an Oscar for playing the comic book villain. However, his film’s interpretation is diametrically opposed to Ledger’s enigma. Instead Phoenix’s film attempts to rationalize everything about the character, depicting the Joker as a mentally ill sad sack whose motivations are borrowed from other iconic movie screen villains and anti-heroes like the mother-obsessed Norman Bates (Psycho) and ticking time bomb Travis Bickle (Taxi Driver).

It still makes for a fascinating (if unoriginal) portrait, but one divorced from the terror of the unknown. We understand who Phoenix’s Joker is and why he is. Society, man. Phoenix’s Joker even outright states it before murdering not-Johnny Carson (Robert De Niro). “What do you get when you cross a mentally ill loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like trash? I’ll tell you what you get, you get what you fucking deserve!”

Technically, Phoenix’s Joker appears closer to our reality and our daily horrors. With clown makeup inspired by real-life serial killer John Wayne Gacy and preening self-pity parties resembling the manifestos of so many mass murderers, Phoenix’s Arthur Fleck is modeled as much off nightly news nightmares as comic book panels. Writer-director Todd Phillips is inelegantly blatant about it.

Nevertheless, whatever ugly truth there may be in that approach, it’s not as haunting, or exhilarating, to witness as what Ledger did in his own rock star interpretation of evil. Save for a blink-and-you-miss-it insert shot, we never see Ledger with the makeup off. And while he might indulge in mocking “society,” he is a character who says more by basking in the chaos of a city in terror, literally sticking his head out of a stolen police car like a dog with the wind in his hair and our horror on his face. It’s a more enduring image than a didactic conversation about insecurities with a father figure. Thirteen years later, Ledger’s version of the character continues to confound, horrify, and ultimately thrill. He still has the last laugh.

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[doomonfilm]

Thoughts : Tusk (2014)

This one has been in the queue for quite a while.  I’ve been a fan of Kevin Smith since the late 1990s, and it has been a pleasure to watch him grow as a screenwriter and filmmaker.  His brand of humor has always stood out as unique, but the word I was hearing prior to finally seeing Tusk was that it was unlike most any film folks had seen.  

Wallace Bryton (Justin Long) and Teddy Craft (Haley Joel Osmet) are the hosts of The Not-See Party, a popular podcast where the two discuss social media influencers and viral videos before Wallace travels to interview the subjects.  Wallace travels to Canada to meet the Kill Bill Kid (Doug Banks), a young man who accidentally cut off one of his legs with a katana, but Wallace arrives just in time for the Kill Bill Kid’s funeral due to his choice to commit suicide.  Stranded in Canada with no story, Wallace stumbles across a letter on a corkboard from Howard Howe (Michael Parks), an eccentric explorer searching for a lodger who promises endless personal tales of his adventures.  Desperate for an interview, Wallace seeks out Howe, not realizing that he is walking into a trap more bizarre than anything his imagination is capable of creating.

While Tusk is certainly not Kevin Smith’s first foray into the world of high concept contemplation, this is his first true dive into a realm as specific as body horror.  The high concept comes into play as he examines Wallace through the lens of bad life choices, and how these choices have ripple effects that can leave an individual isolated before they realize for far gone they’ve spun out.  Wallace is presented to us as egotistical, boorish, opportunistic and unfaithful, but in one of the rare tender moments he shares with his girlfriend Ally, we are told that he did possess desirable and admirable qualities at one time.  Based on his character choices, and his job as a host of The Not-See Party Podcast (a show name that creates a self-imposed hurdle), his turn into danger plays out in a perfect “boy who cried wolf” scenario.

Perhaps the most interesting and impressive aspect of the film is how Kevin Smith is able to serve as a bridge between the comedic stylings he made his name with and the high-level skills he has gleaned from two decades in the film industry.  A mix of absurdist, intellectual and low-brow humor is a given with a Kevin Smith affair, and Tusk provides it in spades.  Canada not only serves as the butt of a few jokes, but it manages to dish out a few zingers and quips full of Canadian personality.  Several characters are given carte blanche to embody outrageous characters and go nuts in that skin, with Michael Parks specifically getting the chance to show a handful of these looks.  The premise of the story is a randomly obtuse mix of Misery and The Human Centipede, and the periphery of the main narrative is peppered with mini-narratives that are proportionally ridiculous in their own right.  What really stands out amongst all of this, however, is the high production value of the film, as Smith finds a middle balance between the big budget comedy look of Cop Out and the darker, edgier look of Red State.

Tusk continues a streak of stellar, rejuvenated writing that began with Clerks II (if you’re willing to ignore Cop Out’s poor performance and critical reception), with Smith finding new and unique ways to expand his voice and naturally gifted ability to tell stories.  The production value on the Howard Howe home is stellar as well, with everything from the living quarters to the walrus dungeon providing a jarring tonal shift at each point of appearance.  The walrus effects and costuming are bold, but the final result is one that creates an image that will forever be burned into the minds of viewers.  The scoring is also strong, standing up to the high bar set with his previous film, the brilliant Red State.  The expository insert shots that accompany the Michael Parks monologues are a nice touch.

Justin Long jumps off of the screen with his ridiculousness broadness, with everything from his hilarious mustache down to his outlandish behavior setting viewers up for a shared journey down a path of darkness that could not be further from that initial stance.  Michael Parks plays equally ridiculous in his diabolicalness, with his madness and obsessiveness played so large that it nears the brink of insanity, and yet somehow, he finds a way to ground it all so that he plays sinister enough to incite fear.  Haley Joel Osmet finally gets a chance to break out of what seemed to be an eternal typecast as he gets to bask in a humorous light.  Genesis Rodriguez brings the emotion to the table, with her unconditional ability to share tenderness and be vulnerable making the main protagonist trio engaging.  Johnny Depp completes the trinity of ridiculousness, with his measured and specific take on his Inspector Clouseau-like character adding a different shade to the spectrum of humor in the film.  Appearances by Ralph Garman, Harley Morenstein, Jennifer Schwalbach Smith, Harley Quinn Smith, Lily-Rose Depp, Doug Banks, Zak Knutson and Ashley Greene also stand out.

BONUS THOUGHTS : Yoga Hosers (2016)

As if Tusk weren’t weird enough as a standalone, Kevin Smith followed it up with a comedic horror for kids in the form of Yoga Hosers.  Part lore expander and part “let’s throw a movie together with famous friends”, the film famously divided fans of Smith and the View Aswkewniverse, mostly due to the lead roles of the Colleens in the form of Lily-Rose Depp and Harley Quinn Smith (the daughters of Johnny Depp and Smith, respectively).

Colleen C. (Lily-Rose Depp) and Colleen M. (Harley Quinn Smith) are a pair of friends whose job at the Eh-2-Zed convenience store has brought them minor fame due to their involvement in the rescue of a “man turned to manatee”.  One evening after sneaking in a practice for their band Glamthrax with drummer Ichabod (Adam Brody) while on the clock, the girls are invited to a Grade 12 party by seniors Hunter Calloway (Austin Butler) and Gordon Greenleaf (Tyler Posey).  The girls accept, but on the night of the party, Colleen C.’s father Bob (Tony Hale) is invited to Niagara Falls by his girlfriend (and Eh-2-Zed manager) Tabitha (Natasha Lyonne), leaving the girls to cover the store and miss out on the party.  In a last ditch effort to exert control, the girls invite the seniors to move the party to Eh-2-Zed, but the Colleens have no clue of what was in store for them.

If held up to the standards of other Kevin Smith films, it’s easy to pick this one apart, as the tone is much more juvenile than films like Mallrats or the Jay and Silent Bob films.  This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, however, as it seems like this film was not meant to be taken seriously or held as high art… this film does, however, totally read as a gift to two daughters whose fathers believed in their desires to act, and due to their rare ability to facilitate those dreams, were given the chance to fulfill a wish.  You can see both actresses progress and become more comfortable as the film progresses, with Harley Quinn Smith especially showcasing that intangible growth where an actor or actress can visualize their place within a frame while on the set.  It’s also very fun to see a litany of familiar faces and famous friends pop in and out of the film.

Certain creature design choices and production design continuously serve as reminders of this film’s connection to the Tusk world, though the two films have very unique rhythms.  Much of the writing and humor drives home how the film is meant to be perceived as a bit of a “human cartoon”, with literal references to cartoons and comics sprinkled throughout.  Keen viewers will be able to spot the numerous references to nearly every other Kevin Smith film that are presented.

It’s safe to say that words and descriptions cannot do the film Tusk justice… this film is one that simply must be seen in order to be believed, and even then, it is still rather unbelievable.  Yoga Hosers is fun in its own right, but you REALLY have to be a fan of not only Kevin Smith the filmmaker, but Kevin Smith the family man to truly enjoy it… it’s definitely the one folks will see simply out of a need to be a completionist.  I may or may not be writing on Jay and Silent Bob Reboot, as I watched it on the same day, but I can say that I have not laughed that hard at a movie in a long time.  

[zmtn]

[images: two pages of a comic. transcription under cut.]

Anyway, I’m doing mini-comics for Razzopolis now, please enjoy my creepy mildly body horror ocs in a weird dream fantasy art deco city

Starting with Mr. Smokin, since that’s how my Razzopolis stuff started in the first place so that’s fitting

TRANSCRIPTION: Page 1, Panel 1: It is a city. Art Deco-ish, but vaguely creepy. There is a gold building with a subtle angular eye motif.

Text: Mr. Smokin runs the bank. It is called that despite the city of Razzopolis having no currency.

Panel 2: Mr. Smokin, a man in a white suit who is made of thick, black smoke with pointed fingers, no eyes or mouth, just a stark white smile, holds out a hand as a hand holding a knife and a tentacle holding an apple offer their objects toward him.

Text: In trades and barters where no agreement has been reached, the Bank acts as an intermediary.

Panel 3: Mr. Smokin holds a bundle of strange yet oddly ordinary objects in his arms.

Text: He has what people want or need, always.

Panel 4: Mr. Smokin walks among rows of large tanks filled with liquid where people float in them.

Text: Under the bank are the vaults where the Sleeping are kept safe until they leave, or worse, wake up.

Panel 5. Mr. Smokin puts a hand on one of those tanks. He is still smiling.

Text: If they wake from their dreaming, Mr. Smokin always seems to know before they even open their eyes. He sells that knowledge to the mayor, though no one knows what they’re exchanging.

Page 2, Panel 1: in a gold hallway with an odd eye pattern, smoke drifts off Mr. Smokin’s hands.

Text: Mr. Smokin could be any shape he wishes to be but he chooses this one.

Panel 2: A close up on his face and shoulders with red in the background.

Text: He rarely stops smiling. He really is made of smoke, but...

Panel 3: Extreme close up on his distressingly rendered teeth.

Text: it makes one wonder - why are his teeth... real?

[tessatechaitea]

What do you think about the current state of comics right now and the people known as comicgate

My current take on the state of comics is that they cost far too much for what you get. I wouldn’t mind seeing comics go all digital but still selling physical copies of collected editions. I’m not a business person or care what happens on the business end; I’m just a customer who could live with the paradigm I just came up with in a few seconds because you asked me this question. I also think Image and other non-DC and non-Marvel publishers put out the best comics and have been doing so for years. It makes a difference when a writer knows they own the characters and stories they’re writing. You save your best shit for the stuff you know you’re going to own. Sure, as a comic fan and writer, you would love to do a Wolverine story or a Batman story or whatever. But if you’re a writer for hire, you’re just not going to expend your best ideas on that company. You’re going to save that shit for a company that lets you own your shit. As for comicsgaters, fuck them. They hide behind the fact that the general movement outside of their crappy philosophy isn’t a bad idea at all. Crowdfunded comic books is a great idea on the surface. But when you get right to it, who’s going to crowdfund the next Chris Ware or Warren Ellis? Probably nobody. Artists probably need publishers to get their names out there unless they’re fucking great at self-promotion and the Internet. But that’s not really what Comicsgate is about, no matter what they’d love everybody to believe. To quote Amanda Halley, “Fashion is not an island. It’s a response.” I know, I’m not talking about fashion. But fashion is art and art is the same way. If you read and study a lot of poetry, you begin to learn that poets don’t just spring up because they thought up a beautiful way to express the onset of spring or the decay of winter. They’re almost always responding to previous poets and their methods of writing. They’re responding to the ideas they disagreed with, making changes in method as rebellion, and expressing themselves in ways that differentiate them from the previous generation. Well, Comicsgate is a response to something they feel is wrong with comic books. Sure, it’s a lie of a response because they’ll say shit like, “We don’t want political stories! We just want apolitcal action stories with great plots! Like how comics used to be!” But if you read how comics used to be, the best ones were always “political.” And the problem with Comicsgate is that the “politics” they hate are just stories about people being compassionate and heroic. It’s easy to read a story about a hero stopping a bank robber because the reader can think, “I would never rob a bank. Get those baddies, Batman!” But when a reader reads about Starfire facing the horror of Apartheid, readers become uncomfortable and send in letters like, “Why did you make all the white people so unlikeable? I will not be reading this comic any more. You should be less political.” The problem with Comicsgaters isn’t that they want good stories told with compassion and heroism and maybe a good lot of punching; the problem is they want those stories with a white male heterosexual protagonist. And, to them, a story automatically isn’t good if you change any of their terms for a good protagonist. Yes, I know a lot of Comicsgaters will deny a lot of this. But the move away from everybody being white and male and cishet is verifiably the root of the problem with the movement. We’ve had indie comic books for decades that have told amazing stories that have absolutely been political with non-binary protagonists. Elfquest was the comic book that got me into my first local comic book store (Brian’s Books of Santa Clara, CA!). Now that was a great story and sure, maybe you could make an argument that the protagonist was a white heterosexual male. But I’m also pretty sure he fucked Skywise in the mouth more than once and practiced socialist or even communist ideologies! And Cerebus! High Society, Church & State, Jaka’s Story, Mothers & Daughters? You don’t get more political than those stories which makes them as fascinating and interesting as they are. And, yes, the letters pages of Cerebus really got fucking crazy but I’m not here to talk about that. Whatever your thoughts of Dave Sim’s life journey, he wrote an enthralling story that maybe took a bit of a wrong turn somewhere past Guys. Still, an achievement. And fuck me, I didn’t even mention Strangers in Paradise! It’s like the anti-Comicsgate comic but also a huge indie comic hit! Thinking on my list, Dave Sim, Wendy and Richard Pini, and Terry Brooks were the only artists I ever stood in line to have something signed before I started my New 52 blog.

Anyway, there are still tons of great comics being published and still tons of shitty comics being published. Just like it’s always been and I’ve been reading them since Crisis on Infinite Earths (and before that with Elfquest, of course).