#kind of a part 2 to the bush comic :3

[mintypsii]

follow up to this comic aaghhh i love them sm

[idoodlestuffsometimes]

Story Post 14 (Part 1)

And now for some Clawthorne family drama.

AU MASTER POST

BEGINNING | PREVIOUS | NEXT

[Image ID under the cut]

[IMAGE ID: Two pages of a black and white comic.

PAGE ONE PANEL 1: A distant view of the Owl House. In the foreground, a group of coven scouts lurk in the bushes, led by Lilith. "Scouts, today we bring this wild witch to justice," she tells them. PANEL 2: "The Owl Lady will join a coven." Eda stands in the large, round window on the second floor, looking down at them, ready for their attack. PANEL 3: Lilith points, launching the charge. "Ready yourselves and. Atta-!" PANEL 4: "Aack!" Lilith's battle cry cuts off in a startled shout, even as the scouts charge forward around her. A crow sporting a rotary dial on its chest has flown in from behind her and smacked her in the back of the head. PANEL 5: The crow continues on its way while Lilith watches. "What the--" reads her thought balloon. "That looks like mother's crow phone." PANEL 6: The crow shatters the glass of Eda's window and crash lands with a squawk squarely in a very startled Eda's face. "Wait," Lilith thinks. PANEL 7: "Edalyn, witchlet! How are you?" A voice comes from the crow's open beak. A close-up of Eda's shocked face. "Mom?!" PANEL 8: On Lilith, reacting with exaggerated dismay. "Is Edalyn getting regular calls from mother?!"

PAGE TWO PANEL 1: "Now's sort of a bad time!" Eda shouts. She gestures a spell circle and a vine bowls over Lilith and a scout with a CRACK. "Oh dear," says Gwen through the crow phone, "I didn't catch you in the bath did I?" PANEL 2: "Perfect Little Lily and her goons are paying me a visit!" Eda says through the phone. "The bad kind!" A wide view of the Clawthorne parents' dining room. They're both sitting at the table, Gwen on the phone while Dell watches. He's busying himself casting a spell on a potted plant in front of him. "Again?" asks Gwen. "I wish you two wouldn't fight so much. Maybe you really should just join a coven. It's really not so bad. Even your father finally has now." PANEL 3: Eda's dodges a left hook from a scout. "I'm not going to roll over and let myself be controlled just because Belos so!" she protests angrily. "You and Dad were wild witches for years! Do you really think it's dangerous?!" PANEL 4: "Oh - uh...Well, normally not really, but your curse..." Gwen glances at Dell. In the foreground, Dell is looking away sadly, his face in shadow, his head turned so that we can see the scar over his eye. His hand raised over his plant is scarred and has a tremor. There is a plant coven sigil on his wrist. PANEL 5: A close-up of Eda, scowling. "Never mind, don't answer that. If you're calling about another 'cure,' I'm hanging up." "Wait," cries Gwen, "don't!" /END ID]

[sissylittlefeather]

Time for...

A Very Quiet Life: Chapter 4

A/N: I know this one is kind of a bummer, and it's super short, but it's important to the storyline, so don't give up on it. Part 5 is *literally* steamy 🥵

Warnings: reader is a widow, this one is angsty, but that's about it. Sorry no smut this time, ya lil horny devils.

Links to:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Stick around... there's much more to come!

Song inspo (because now I've done it on every post, I have to keep doing it)

Aaaaaaaand gifs:

How are you going to keep yourself from getting used to this?

******

You wake up to a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Bye, baby."

"What time is it?"

"Almost 5:30. Go back to sleep." You nod your head and he kisses you softly on the lips and leaves. You hear the front door open and close quietly. The bed feels empty without him already, so you go ahead and get up. The first thing you do is change your shirt because Jane will probably recognize it. Before you hide it in your drawer, you put your face in it and breathe deeply. His smell is still there, even though you wore it all night.

You shouldn't miss him this much.

You make some coffee and sit on your front porch watching the sunrise and waiting for the kids to wake up.

Once the sun is up, you see Elvis walk out to get the paper. Your heart skips a beat and you're dying to call out to him. You don't even have to, though, because when he turns to walk back up to the house, he spots you and waves. He jogs over to you and leans against the railing on the steps up to your porch.

"Good morning, beautiful."

"Elvis. We can't do this. Someone might see you." You whip your head from side to side, looking for nosey neighbors to come crawling out of the bushes.

"What? I'm just a neighbor coming to say hello." He gives you a winning grin.

"Elvis." His face falls and he looks at the ground. "When does your wife get home?" He swallows hard.

"Tuesday." Today is Sunday. "You know she travels a lot." He looks up at you hopefully.

"Not enough for us to... we just can't. I can't... I have the kids and I just... I can't." Your heart feels like it's in a vice that just gets tighter and tighter and it's taking everything in you not to cry. He looks back down at the ground and nods.

"I guess I better go home, then." He turns to walk back to his house, but then stops and turns back to you. "But if you ever change your mind..."

Just then, Jane calls from inside the house. "Mooooom!" You stand up from the porch and he turns and walks away. You watch him go before Jane comes to the door. "Mom! I'm hungry." You sigh and go back into the house to tend to the kids.

******

You spend a lazy Sunday with the kids on the couch watching tv and reading. You go ahead and give Michael the comics you've bought for his birthday next month, since he's so pitiful with his cast. He can't read yet, but he likes to look at the pictures.

Round about 3 o'clock there's a light knock on the front door. When you get to the door, you're surprised to find Elvis there. You thought you were pretty clear this morning. Before you can say anything about it though, he opens his mouth.

"I'm here to see Michael. I brought him some stuff to help his recovery." He holds up a bag. "Can I come in?" You feel bad for assuming he was there to see you.

"Sure." You open the door and he walks in and goes to the living room. When he gets to Michael on the couch, he plops the bag down between his legs and starts pulling stuff out. He has a pint of chocolate ice cream, a stack of comic books, and a model car, still in the box waiting to be built. Michael goes straight for the comics. They're older ones, but he doesn't care. He's never seen them before and he's fascinated.

"Where did you get these?" He asks excitedly.

"They were mine when I was younger. I thought you might like them." The gesture is so kind, it tugs at your heart a little.

"Should I take the ice cream to the kitchen?" You cut in, noticing that it's already starting to melt.

"Can I have some too, Mama?" Jane asks politely.

"Sure, honey." You take the ice cream and go into the kitchen to put it into two bowls. When you come back out, Elvis is showing Michael the car box.

"I know your hand is a little busted up right now, but I thought I could help you build it sometime when it's feeling better." Michael nods excitedly.

Why does he have to be married?

You hand the ice cream to the kids and they go to work eating it. Elvis stands up.

"I guess I better be going. Thanks for letting me bring the stuff in."

"Thank you for the ice cream, Mr. Presley!" Jane calls to him. Michael just grunts and nods. He's too busy eating. You walk Elvis to the front door.

"Thank you for doing that. You didn't have to--"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I want to? Can't I still love your kids even if you won't let me..." he trails off. You can tell he's frustrated with you.

"Yes. I'm sorry. We need someone like you... THEY. They need someone like you." You caught it too late and he notices. He looks at you almost hopefully and then nods.

"Well, I'll be around as long as they need me." He walks out the front door and back to his house.

******

Chapter 5 coming soon!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@itlover8000 @deniseinmn @elvisalltheway101 @ccab @suxny @hernameisnoellex3 @ashtag6887 @arabellapresley @littlehoneyposts @dkayfixates @elvisxsposts @joshuntildawn13 @msamarican @returntopresley

Want to be added to the Taglist? Let me know!

[stcries]

10 facts about my characters,  accepting !

@allnostalgic​ wrote:  10 facts about rin !

1.  this one came to me first.  because rin grew up partially in australlia,  he has a fondness for nature.   this includes being out in the bush,  going on hikes,  or even just the smell of fresh grass or the saltiness of the ocean.   it’s very relaxing for him,  something that is a huge stress reliever for him.  sometimes,  if he gets stressed,  he’ll go for a walk by himself,  immersing himself in the wilderness away from other people for a short while.

2.  rin is a very heavy sleeper.   he puts his heart and soul into each and every day,  so by the end of it all,  he’s usually quite tired.   whilst he does tend to go to sleep pretty early,  he can quite easily fall into an incredibly deep sleep.   be warned if you try to wake him up,  as you may end up getting an elbow in your side via him doing it subconsciously.   he’s also not a morning person,  he stays sluggish for a long time in the morning before finally waking up properly.

3.  despite having a rough exterior around most people,  rin absolutely crumbles when it comes to romance.  this man couldn’t stop fumbling over his words if he tried,  and his face usually ends up the same colour or at least close to the same as his hair.   he’s awkward most of the time around both his crushes and his partners,  which may usually lead for them to take charge.

4.  he has a soft spot for almost all animals,  but specifically domesticated pets,  like cats and dogs.   this is because of his family’s cat,  steve,  as well as his australlian family’s pet dog,  winnie.   they have helped him through terrible points in his life,  which further raises his appreciation.   in the future,  he definitely gets a pet of his own,  but what it is has yet to be known.  in his free time,  he takes in and fosters strays.

5.  because of his friendship with sousuke,  rin has learned a few cooking skills from his friend.   whilst he is by no means a master chef,  he knows how to handle himself in the kitchen instead of sticking to microwavable foods.  he cooks most of his own meals,  mainly to keep his physique in top condition for his swimming career,  but he dabbles into junk food from time to time,  or if he’s had a rough day.

6.  this one’s a bit random,  but i can imagine rin with darker roots in his hair.  it’s not a drastic change,  but the roots of his hair is noticeably darker than the longer parts of his magenta locks.  this isn’t died,  it’s just his naturally occuring hair,  and it’s rather unexplainable.

7.  he ABSOLUTELY has pierced his ears before,  and still has them in.   they’re nothing more than simple black studs most of the time,  but he still loves them none the less.  he also never leaves the house without some form of jewelry on,  be it a watch,  bracelet,  necklace or something completely different.   he also frequently paints his nails.

8.  because of his difficulty making friends as a child,  rin tends to act more aggressive towards others in order to gain respect from them.  to him,  it still works,  because nobody seems to mess with him anymore,  but it also makes him less approachable because of his intimidating aura.  however,  if people take the time to get to know him,  he’s a huge sweetheart underneath that shell.

9.  has a habit of chewing on things because of his sharper teeth.  most of the time,  this includes things like pens and pencils.  he sometimes accidentally bites the inside of his mouth as well,  but he’s gotten used to it by now.  he used to be very insecure about his teeth when he was a child,  but has since embraced them.

10.  despite his rough exterior,  he does have a soft spot for cute things.  when he gets his friends presents or trinkets,  they usually include some kind of comical soft toy or figurine and other things of the same form.  and yes,  he absolutely has a plush toy shark that he’s kept since he was quite young,  and it’s a comfort item for him.  it’s a rather secretive thing for him,  and he actively hides it from those even most close to him,  not wanting to be seen as weak.

[bambirex]

Jaskier and Jesse Pinkman are kind of the same person: Part 3

The last part of my nonsense comparison post, I promise!

Spoilers for both shows, and tw for mention of drug and alcohol abuse!

Part 1 Part 2

They're often blamed for things going to shit: see the infamous mountain scene between Jaskier and Geralt where Geralt brutally sends Jaskier away, and quite many scenes of Walt going off on Jesse and calling him stupid over the smallest of things.

Both are pretty ADHD-coded, hyperactive, fidgety; a big chunk of their fandoms headcanon them as ADHD- havers. (couldn't find a pic to prove this one, you just have to trust my own ADHD brain)

The writers love to torture them both, physically and emotionally alike; they both go through some extreme, bloody and horrific situations, which they miraculously leave in one piece but the shitloads of trauma remains. Since the writers love to whump the shit out of them, the fandoms usually follow the same pattern. Let's just hope Jaskier's trauma will be addressed in the upcoming seasons, the way Jesse's was!

The substance abuse. Obviously very explicit in Jesse's case, as his drug addiction is a very prominent plot point.

With Jaskier, it's mostly theorizing and a bit more subtle (and I guess this can be a controversial take), but i couldn't help but notice (and I've seen other people point it out before), that he might have a problem with drinking, especially in season 2 where he appears to be drinking heavily to soothe his heartache, presumably - the scene where he's cuddling a literal wine botttle, anyone? The show probably won't adress it, but i wish it did.

They're both kind of smart and dumb at the same time ; Jaskier is master of the seven liberal arts and an academic, and is obviously very intelligent, but he does say and do the weirdest, dumbest things (trying to befriend a monster in the bushes, for example); Jesse is beloved for his often very simple way of thinking. But the boy has street smarts, and by the end, he cooks up some incredible plans to bring down Walt and save himself. Kind of related to this, both of them often get used as comic relief. Jaskier more so, obviously, often providing the light- hearted fun when things get very heavy (he also definitely uses his humor as a coping mechanism, right??), and Jesse, while not being a comic relief character at all, often says and does the funniest lines on the show, and the most hilarious scenes are usually tied to him.

Jaskier befriending the mice in the prison cell, and Jesse befriending bugs give me lots of feelings for some reason, and it's also just such a lovely little parallel.

Poor meow meow and cringefail vibes in all the best ways. No picture needed, I think y'all get the point. I wanna put them both in my pocket.

Lots of people headcanon them trans/queer in some way. I don't know what to do with this, but I love it and find it interesting enough to point out, so here.

Alright, that's it, this is what happens when I have the thought process of "wouldn't it be fucked up if I spent an hour making a useless list" 😂

[canonspyglass]

On kataang’s finale kiss…

grrr… the writing

I don’t care much about questioning Kataang as a couple or whether katara has feelings or whether their love is true or whether their ship is an always-will-be. This isn’t really about that (in case you haven’t noticed).

My biggest gripe with that finale kiss is basically how :

(1) katara is also a main character, not some simpering one-dimensional side chick for our hero;

(2) whose feelings and emotions are one of the greatest part of her arc, and notably more significant than other characters;

(3) whose point of view in romance is as much valid of a story as Aang’s;

(4) which means the progression/change of those feelings, from thinking “i’m confused,” to admitting that “i do see him as more,” to deciding that “i will act on it,” to committing that “i’ll be his forever girl,” should be shown on screen. It is as important to her character as her facing grief, dealing with it, and moving on (and infinitely more important than “trolling” zutarians);

(5) This kind of writing is soooo freaking normalized that 8 yr old me who saw it for the first time thought: “oh well, that’s how movies do it, gotta accept it.” — and that’s not ok. Kids should not accept that this is the norm. Kids should not think that the hero deserves his love, and ignore examining the journey to get there. Love is not owed to anyone despite of what mediocre romance says;

(6) if the kiss didn’t happen, the ending wouldn’t feel less meaningful. Instead, it would elevate the found-family Gaang dynamic and the hopeful anticipation of this new world. But instead, romance happened;

(7) the comic exists. Lowkey they are 12 and 14 respectively (maybe 13 and 15 by finale). The comic follows immediately post finale and it shows kataang already committing to each other for lifetime, so practically married. That makes the finale kiss even more creepy. I used to be able to think that they do kiss to confirm their endgame romance, but they would do some growing up first, and then commit much later. But nope!

Also, if anyone can answer this cuz I'm bushed:

Would the appeal of Kataang exist without the ambiguity on Katara’s feelings? How is that romance even gonna work? — I really can’t find a better storytelling solution, without changing anything except for ousting their finale kiss, than simply letting them be red herring.

[counterintuitivecomics]

DEEP FOREST MEGAPOST

A sci fi comic series about a group of kids growing up on a colonized alien planet, living very different lives - Regina and wolf girl out in the woods in abandoned laboratories, and Danna and Devrik Tee in a town where magic and science are studied side-by-side. Each story can be enjoyed by itself, but they build into a larger continuing narrative. I’ve been working on this series since 2012 and they’re very dear to my heart! Give them a read if you like the sound of weird queer kids doing science-magic, discovering the inequalities of the current/past systems around them, struggling to understand new perspectives, and deciding what kind of people they want to be.

"Each issue focuses on feelings like longing and a sense of joy in the moment despite the uncertainty of the future...These are wonderfully subtle and restrained fantasy comics, and I only hope that she continues to do more..." - Rob Clough, High-Low Comics, 2013

wolf girl

Wolf Girl is a girl who is also a wolf. This comic is an essay Regina made her write about what she did today, and she did a very good job with the spelling and everything. CW: animal death, blood

READ // BUY PRINT COMIC

〰〰〰〰〰

Deep Forest #1

Ruff n tuff kids in the woods! Abandoned mad science laboratories! Tiny animal minions! Cadavers in the bushes! Can you dig it?  This 12 page story made critic Rob Clough’s “Best Short Form Comics of 2013” list (along with the sequel DF#2). CW: Injury to a child, dead body, ableist language.

READ // BUY PRINT COMIC

〰〰〰〰〰

Deep Forest #2

Danna Tee is smart, pretty, and responsible, and she has big dreams - witch dreams. She wants to follow in her famous mother’s footsteps, but something about the new corporate funded Academy for Witchcraft Preservation just doesn’t sit right. Danna walks the woods looking for a little peace, and for some answers - too bad she’s only gonna find more questions waiting for her in the Deep Forest…

READ // BUY PRINT COMIC // DOWNLOAD

〰〰〰〰〰

Professor Regina

A semi-canon prologue to Deep Forest, and where it all started - a weird girl in the woods with all her animal minions. Pet deaths are always hard, even when your pets are imaginary. And what if you could make those imaginary pets real?  How much of their death is your responsibility…? CW: animal death.

〰〰〰〰〰

Shifter Takes A Swim

A mysterious scruffy shapeshifter deals with anxiety and inner turmoil by digging through ink to a new pencil dimension.  A 4-page poetic short, published in (out-of-print) collection L3no2 as part of my CCS 2013 thesis! How does this connect to the Deep Forest? I wonder.... :3

〰〰〰〰〰

Everything Deep Forest

All comics, drawings, sketches, etc are collected in these tags:

DEEP FOREST // PROFESORA REGINA // WOLF GIRL //  DANNA TEE // DEVRIK TEE // SHIFTER

〰〰〰〰〰

🌈 PATREON // KO-FI // STORENVY // GUMROAD 🌸

🐌 PERSONAL TUMBLR // TWITTER // INSTAGRAM // FB 🎐

🌱 MAIN COMICS DIRECTORY 🐺

[fanfiction-funtime]

Self insert oc: Alexander Vodka

AKA: Eis Cay'zar

Author of fate

A writer from Schneznaya who was driven from his home for his anti-Tsaritsa paper.

_____________________

Physical description:

A chubby fellow in a 1950's style noir trenchcoat and hat, some would even say he looks like he jumped right out of a noir comic book and into reality. He has brown hair and green eyes, a cowboy mustache, and a pointed beard like some kind of comic book supervillain genius.

He often acts confidently and even a bit egotistical when in places he's recognized and famous in, however in newer places he often seems distant and shys away from almost all contact.

Noone knows where his vision is, but they know he has one because of the cold aura that surrounds him.

At night he'll often trade his outfit for one more reminiscent of demons or vampires.

_____________________

Abilities:

Weapon type: Catalyst

Basic attack-truth: uses his catalyst to shoot a short burst of up to 3 ice shards, can attack in fast succession.

"Truth hurts, especially in bursts"

Charged attack-Bifrost: Alexander quickly makes an ice clone behind the enemy and fires 6 shots, this can increase to 3 clones if charged enough(times: 1 for 1 second, 2 for 2 seconds, and 3 for 2.5 seconds)

"I hate crowds, best company has always been myself"

Elemental ability-ice wall: creates an aura of sheer cold around himself that will damage enemies the more they stay in it, and apply the normal sheer cold to them. Does not affect party.

"My therapist said I put up walls because of trauma, but I couldn't hear them through the wall I had just built"

Elemental burst-a story to be told: Alexander takes out his book and opens to a random page, then randomly summons ice sculptures of one of 8 beings:

"Aster": this summon looks like the flatwoods monster, it surrounds the party in a swirl of ice blades that deal 2X damage as the character for 10 seconds.

"Who needs brawn, when you got brain"

"Ultimate foe": a demonic, pointy being of shadow. Will independently deal 25000 damage to three random foes.

"Meet my penultimate friend"

"Beethoven": a sculpture reminiscent of a ww1 zombie general, calls down a barrage of ice bombs that deal 5000 damage to enemies hit for 7 seconds.

"Good scifi doesn't predict, it prevents"

"Sorrows Joy": an angelic, faceless, robot like humanoid that spawns 25 angel shaped traps that freeze enemies around the character.

"With any luck, you're the only real one I've made"

"Death rider and the magic prince": two statues, one of a mummy like Schneznayan mystic of ancient barbarian times and the other an elven cavalry knight from the myths of mondstadt. The knight gives the party a 45% boost to speed and attack while moving, and the Schneznayan gives +10% damage bonus to elemental skills and +55% damage bonus to Catalyst.

"Feel the wrath of honor long passed"

"Zero point and Lion queen": a knightly man of spiked armor and a golden ottoman warrior woman whose golden chain completely obscures her head. Your enemies become inflicted with pyro and you are surrounded by thorn bushes that deal continuous damage of 1000 for 10 seconds.

"Walk down the way on a moonlit day"

The traveler: a child in a red straight jacket, his binds become undone after 4 seconds at which point all enemies take 10,000 X Alexander's level of damage.

"I uh,wont have to pay any copyrights will I?"

"Giota": a child in pyjamas who looks ready to sleep, this summon is very rare. It fully restores all party members and gives a 200% boost to both defense and damage of your characters.

"This fella's been with me since I was a kid"

"If it is a soldier's duty to escape the confines of a prison, is it not every person's duty to escape reality if even for a moment? A wise man said that, pray that I may one day be like him."

Passive-part the wasteland: Alexander is immune to sheer elements, and Grant's 50% resistance when in the party to all members.

_____________________

Story

Abandoning a dream

As a kid, Alexander was always put down when he said he wanted to write fiction, "there's no money in it" they all said.

He couldn't get into any art schools without support so he focused his mind elsewhere, a place he could hopefully use his writing to do just as much good: the first newspaper in Schneznaya.

Horrible truth

He didn't start as a trouble maker, but the more he sought out the truth the more he couldn't stand back and watch. He published numerous papers about the Tsarista's wrongdoings and the crimes of the fatui, how they would harass merchants in other nations, the unfair taxes many shipping businesses had to keep quiet about, all the way up to the war crimes the Tsarista had done in direct contradiction to her own laws.

Sadly, not many believed him even with evidence, but some got his message.

Those who fight

One day Alexander was approached by a man who claimed to have formed a resistance against the fatui. Alexander had inspired many people to disrupt the organization, and have even begun working with those outside Schneznaya.

With their help he didn't just publish some crimes, he published them all, he even got information that turned the general public against the fatui even if just a little.

In a way h had achieved his dream of helping others with his writing, even if it wasn't how he wanted.

Stop the presses

When the Tsarista started her big move of taking gnosis, she brought the hammer down on dissent like a boulder on a ten year old's wrist. One day a squad of thirty fatui stormed Alexander's home and business to silence him, and while they shut down his business they couldn't catch him.

Alexander fled into the wastelands of ice and snow and wasn't seen for several weeks.

Deus ex Vodka

One day Alexander showed up in Inazuma, a nation that had been oppressed for some time now and had recently reached it's height, yet no resistance had formed.

That was until Alexander came along.

Alexander published numerous books, spreading them throughout Inazuma. All of them spoke of freedom, of bravery, of rising up to achieve your ambitions.

And with those stories he inspired countless to take up arms, and in turn inspired countless to join the resistance.

And with mere fiction he had brought about hope,

And with mere fiction he shall do it again, in every form, and in every nation.

Vision: cold hearted

While wondering the waste Alexander fell down and looked to the skies.

He did not ask celestia why, he did not grieve or blame that he did not do more, instead Alexander did something he hadn't done in a long time:

He imagined.

And after he imagined he took out his notebook and wrote. In the freezing cold for seventeen days he wrote stories of hope and freedom.

For seventeen days the cold did not so much as cause him to flinch as he wrote tales of bravery.

For seventeen days Alexander Vodka lived how he wanted to live.

And at the end, he lied down to die.

Then a light shown, and when he opened his eyes to look he saw that the storm parted around him, and in his hand was an ice blue gem.

But Alexander was too paranoid from years of abuse from his peers as a child to wear it loosely, and far to extra to just get a lock. So instead Alexander shouted to celestia "if I shall have this Vision for my art, then it shall not kill me no matter what I do!"

He then shoved the vision into his heart and fell down.

Before he could bleed out however, a woman appeared.

"Hey Tsari, how ya doin." Alexander said as blood poured out his mouth.

"You dramatic fool," the Tsarista sighed as she put a hand on his chest, "you have my element, do you know how bad it'll look for me if you die by shoving your vision into your heart?"

"Why do you care? We hate eachother, in case you forgot."

The archon sighed, "you're just rebelling against what you see as unjust, just as I am. To be honest I feel a sort of rivalry with you, so it'd be a shame if you just died. Also," she painfully shoved the vision all the way in, painfully, "if your going to die it better be because of me, got it?"

Then Alexander sat up, and the god was gone. Along with the hole in his chest.

"Rival of a god eh?" He sat up, putting his gat back on his head, "I like the sound of that."

_____________________

How is this an insert?

Well his story can't be the exact same as mine, so I took my life and goals and made predictions, then fictionalized those predictions and expanded.

His appearance is pretty close to how I'll likely look based on my current appearance, and his dramatic attitude is exactly how I wanna act.

Him being shy in new places with strangers is me exactly as I am now really, however I do believe I'd act confidently if I were famous so he does as well.

Him being Catalyst is because I'm not athletic at all, and I figured a dps Catalyst would be cool. His main ability and resistance/immunity to sheer cold is based on how I wrap up in warm blankets when it's cold, and his ultimate is made up of characters I've made.

_____________________

Tagging: @genshin-obsessed, @golden-wingseos, @storytravelled, and @love-psxlm

[winterinhimring]

for the character ask meme: Horatio Hornblower - and/or Côtard, should you have opinions on him.

For reference, that ask meme is here. I'll be answering these primarily for book!Hornblower and series!Côtard since those are the versions that live in my head, but honestly book and movie Hornblower kind of blend together in my head after a while so there will be bits of both.

How I feel about them:

Hornblower: I have three states of feelings about Hornblower. In #1, I want to hug him, wrap him up in blankets, give him a mug of hot chocolate, and try to convince him that he's really not nearly as terrible of a person as he thinks he is. This applies most often to midshipman H. In #2, I want to pull an Edna Mode and smack him on the head with a newspaper. This usually happens when he's been rude to Bush. In #3, which is probably the normal state of affairs, I find him faintly comical, because his thought process resembles what would happen if you took my stressed mental spiral that occasionally crops up at odd hours of the night and just kind of...made it a person that was very good at math.

Côtard: He has a very wholesome character arc, and I enjoy it. I'm always annoyed by his rudeness and condescension to Bush at the beginning, but at least part of that seems to stem from his ignorance of naval life, and by the end he's seemingly figured things out and managed to earn both Bush and Hornblower's respect. My real feelings come from his interesting relationship with patriotism and his role in the war, though, which really hits home to me as someone who both loves their country dearly and disagrees with many of the things that it does.

All the people I ship romantically with them:

Hornblower: Lady Barbara, because she's so good for him in so many ways, and he's good for her too, though that's more of an informed attribute from Forester's narration. Also because I find their little shipboard romance endearing, and because I enjoy competent and confident female characters.

Côtard: None, really, I don't think he has any canon love interests and I haven't made one up for him or seen one in fanfic that I found really compelling.

My non-romantic OTP for them:

Hornblower: Bush, no question. I enjoy Horatio's friendship with Archie in the show, and it's arguably a healthier relationship then his friendship with Bush in the books, but Bush is such a patient, faithful saint (can you tell that he's my favourite) that I find it difficult to imagine anyone else as Horatio's best friend.

Côtard: No strong feelings here, but I do enjoy the rapport that he builds with Bush and Hornblower over the course of his episode.

My unpopular opinion about them:

Hornblower: The closest thing I have to an unpopular opinion on him is probably not shipping him with Bush. Otherwise I think I'm pretty much in line with general fandom opinion on everyone's favourite anxious genius.

Côtard: None as far as I know of.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with them in canon:

Hornblower: Quite a number of things, but I'll restrict myself to two general ones. I wish he hadn't married Maria, to begin with. Not that I have any ill-will towards her, but she and Hornblower have a sad tendency to bring out the worst of each other, or at least she brings out the worst in him, though it's through no fault of her own. And I wish that he would learn to temper the cruel edges of his own temper, because far too often he hurts both himself and others with them.

Côtard: I would have liked to see more of him in the show and learn some of the backstory that led him where he was. He seems to be acquainted with Pellew, he's got a spy network in France; there's more to this guy than meets the eye.

Thank you for the ask, I had lots of fun writing this!

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 4 - 18

Honor Bound 4 - 18 (Undeserved Reputation) @badthingshappenbingo​​​​

Requested by @whumps-the-word​​​​

~

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3.

AO3

Cw: past captivity, implied whump of a minor, PTSD, dissoci@tion, death mention

~

Gray smiled gently as they drove, avoiding potholes in the road caused not by violence, but by the simple, innocent freeze and thaw of the ground. The sun was already high in the sky after more than three hours of driving. The sky was clear, the air clean and cool with the northern summer that was already well under way.

Edrissa sat in the passenger seat, almost completely turned around, chattering happily to Vera in the back seat. Every now and then, Gray and Vera met eyes in the rear view, and Gray could read something like gratitude in her gaze.

“…and there’s this store in Crayton that sells three different kinds of lace!” Edrissa said, the wispy blonde bun at the top of her head bobbing along as she spoke. “And there’s a lot of cotton, I mean, obvious, but they also sometimes have some nice linen and I think that’s what I’ll make Sam’s sling out of, so it breathes. Because it gets hotter up here than I thought it would, because I thought it wouldn’t get very hot at all and it’s already May and it’s been pretty warm, and the winter was so cold so I just kind of assumed it would stay cold. I mean, it’s been nice outside. Maybe when it gets a little warmer we can go hang out at the lake, maybe do a picnic, I mean it’s not very far from the house but it’s really pretty and I’ve already been in it and it doesn’t go that deep, but it is really cold. Before that I hadn’t been swimming in so long. But yeah, I think I’ll do the sling out of linen, and I hope they have blue because that’s Sam’s favorite color.”

She paused to take a breath. Vera grinned at her.

“It is Sam’s favorite color,” Vera said, and Gray was tempted to give Vera a conspiratory nudge. “What else have you been up to while we’ve b-been—” Her voice wavered for just a moment. “—gone?”

“Um…” Edrissa’s mouth twisted and she leaned towards Vera. “Yeah, um, a lot. Gray said, Gray said I could paint my room if I wanted, but I haven’t found the right color. They’re all so… so garish.” Edrissa flipped the stray wisps of hair out of her face and looked to Vera, eyebrows raised, as if she was waiting for something.

It was so good to see Edrissa looking for Vera to assure her not that she was safe, but that she was… cool.

“Absolutely,” Vera said with fervor. “Sometimes walls just need to look sophisticated.” Edrissa lifted her chin, and her mouth pulled into a wider smile at the word.

“Exactly,” she said with an emphatic nod. “Sophisticated. I was thinking I could do a whole thing with a mirror on the wall and, and maybe a nice painting if I can find one that captures the… the…” Edrissa stumbled for a moment, her eyes still fixed on Vera. “…the atmosphere I want.”

Sadness dragged at Gray’s heart. She hasn’t been allowed to make her own choices, any choices for two years. And I remember how much I just wanted to be me when I was eighteen.

They pressed their lips into a line to stop the corners of their mouth from falling.

“That sounds like such a great idea,” Vera said, her face breaking into a smile again. “And… Tori and I wanted to start a garden out back. It’s a little late for planting, but… if we get seedlings, would you want something?”

“Yes!” Edrissa cried, and distractedly tapped Gray on the shoulder. For a moment Vera looked at Gray in delighted surprise. Edrissa hadn’t let anyone but Tori and Vera touch her since she’d been rescued almost five months ago. Gray knew the easy touch on their shoulder spoke volumes of the healing she’d done just in the past three weeks.

I wonder how much of that is time away from Gavin. Gray pushed the thought out of their head.  

“Oh, my god, I totally forgot. Last time I was in Burmingham, they had little mint plants. Gray said they wanted some, and I forgot!” She turned to Gray with an unsteady smile. “I’m sorry, I—” Edrissa shivered. Her eyes went distant. She curled into herself slightly, shrinking back against the door of the car.

“It’s alright, Edrissa,” Gray said gently, never taking their eyes off the road. “I’m not hurt. I’m not angry. It’s just a mistake, right? Mistakes are alright.”

“Mm-hm,” Edrissa said uncertainly. She relaxed slightly.

“Remember your counting?” Gray said, low and calm.

Edrissa jerked her head in a nod. She took in a deep breath. “One two three four five,” she muttered, and shook out her hands at the wrists with each number.

“Good. Let’s do it again, together.” Gray’s hands were steady on the wheel, never faltering. Watching the pavement of the road disappear under their car.

Edrissa drew in another deep breath. “One two three four five,” she and Gray said together as she shook out her hands, her quavering voice mixing with Gray’s steady one.

“One more time. Deep breath, one two three four five.” This time, Edrissa, Vera, and Gray said it together.

Gray glanced at Edrissa, at how her shoulders hunched just a little more than they had before, at the dullness in her eyes that reminded them so much of… of Vera, when she was under. Their mouth made a hard line.

“S-sorry,” Edrissa murmured. “I j-just…”

“It’s alright, Edrissa,” Gray said evenly, passing the first few houses on the north outskirts of Crayton. “Everyone has moments, and you were just having a moment.”

“Having a moment,” Edrissa said softly. “Just having a moment.” She smiled tightly at Vera, the corners of her mouth twisting in embarrassment.

Gray’s heart ached for Edrissa, for the girl who had just been going on and on about her room and her fabrics not thirty seconds ago and was now trembling, embarrassed, frightened. Vera leaned forward and put her hand palm up on the center console. An invitation, not a demand. Edrissa fit her hand into Vera’s, and Vera squeezed.

“Tell me more about what plants you want.”

Edrissa offered a wider smile. “Um, I like osteospermum,” she said, her eyes shifting down. “And sunflowers. I like the tall kinds of flowers.” She looked up at Vera. “I had to get a book on plants that do okay with the, the climate up here, because down south it was always—” She cut herself off and swallowed hard. “I like the colorful tall kinds of plants. I’d try for a rosebush but I think it’s too hard for this year.”

“Hm.” Vera nodded. “Well, I’d like to try some raspberry and strawberry bushes. And we could build a shade for the garden, in case the sun is too much.”

“Y-yeah,” Edrissa said softly. She sat back slightly in her seat until Gray pulled onto the main street of shops. They eased the car into a spot along the sidewalk. When Gray stopped, Edrissa shook herself slightly and looked up.

Gray put the car in park. “I was thinking you two could get out here,” they said, indicating with their hand the store that had regular deliveries of fabrics. “I should go to the town hall and check in with Daniel Schiester. I understand your check-in was… rushed.”

“And good fucking thing, too,” Vera said quietly, her jaw clenching shut.

Gray dipped their head. “I don’t exactly appreciate the way he’s spoken to you in the past, so I thought I would make this visit alone. Make sure he feels in control of the situation. Stroke his comically over-inflated ego.”

“I swear to god, he’d make a great fucking syndicate leader,” Vera said, rolling her eyes. She opened the door and climbed out, moving stiffly. Edrissa got out, too, and drifted to Vera’s side.

Gray rolled the passenger window down and leaned towards it. “Shouldn’t take longer than twenty minutes. If you move on from here and I don’t catch you, I’ll meet you in the square in an hour, and we can get lunch. Sound like a plan?”

Vera nodded and cocked her eyebrow. “Have fun with DFS,” she said, snidely.

Gray’s brow furrowed. “DFS?”

Vera bent forward and leaned into the car. “Daniel. Fucking. Schiester,” she said, her voice nearly gleeful with contempt.

Gray snorted and leaned back. “Ah. I’ll have to try not to call him that to his face.”

Vera straightened and shrugged. “If you do, get pictures of his reaction.”

Gray laughed and put the car in drive. “See you soon,” they said, and pulled away.

∴

As Gray got closer to the town hall, their hands tightened on the wheel. Something itched in the back of their mind, something about how Daniel looked at Vera with fascination, with humor. As if he was watching a dog performing tricks. Saccharine. Amused.

Something in the back of their mind stirred at how Daniel looked at Gavin.

There was something there, between them. Gray doubted they had ever actually met. Perhaps it was just morbid, spiteful fascination on Daniel’s part, fascination with the syndicates who ruined the lives of the victims he saw every day. Perhaps it was buried rage, resentment that people like Gavin’s family were the reason Crayton had to exist at all.

Perhaps it was something else, though Gray wasn’t sure what.

Gray pulled in front of the town hall and parked the car. They sat quiet in the seat, staring at the front door, already feeling the tension headache starting. They breathed a sigh, turned off the car, and got out.

Inside the atrium it was cool, dark, and empty, just like it almost always was when refugees weren’t being processed. Gray’s hands tightened into fists and they began to climb the stairs to Daniel’s office.

The stairs creaked under Gray’s feet, their footsteps muffled by the dark green carpet. They made their way to the landing and turned in the direction of Daniel’s office. They almost hoped he wasn’t in today. Their hands clenched tighter as they walked down the hallway, almost feeling the urge to tiptoe, to not make any noise.

Gray grimaced. I’m being ridiculous.

They stopped in front of the door to Daniel’s office. They knocked.

“Come in,” came the deep, even voice. Gray’s face fell. They turned the handle and pushed the door open.

Daniel glanced up from his work on his computer, then looked up and pushed himself away from his desk. “Mx. Uriah,” he said, standing, and held out his hand. “Always good to see you.”

Gray’s skin felt cold as they shook Daniel’s hand once.

“Mr. Mayor,” they said stiffly.

“Ah,” Daniel said with a smile. “I suppose if I wanted you to call me by my first name, I should have begun with that courtesy. Forgive me.”

“Old habits, on my end,” Gray said, and forced their mouth into a smile.

“Right.” Daniel sat back into his chair and leaned his elbows on the desk. “What can I help you with?”

Gray had to stop themself from staring at the pictures of refugees on the walls. Those pictures definitely weren’t of every single refugee Daniel had saved, they couldn’t be. There couldn’t have been more than forty or fifty people in those pictures, and Gray knew Crayton could see that many in a busy week. Maybe those refugees held some meaning for Daniel. Gray didn’t want to pry.

If they were perfectly honest with themself, they didn’t want to ask.

“I’m sure at this point that you are aware that my family has returned from the south?” Gray said, meeting Daniel’s eyes.

Daniel grinned. “Ah. Yes. The triumphant heroes return, quite successful, I’m given to understand. Colleen Stormbeck is dead, and the region is destabilized.”

“That’s right,” Gray said. “They were successful, although at great cost to themselves.”

Daniel’s mouth turned down. “You don’t mean that any of them died…?” He turned to rifle through some papers on his desk. “When my people checked them in, all six were—”

“They all came back alive, yes,” Gray said, their heart twinging. Their gaze fell. “But they all came back with some sort of… permanent… mental or physical scarring.”

“Hm.” Daniel leaned back and folded his hands in his lap. “When you say they all came back alive, I’m assuming you’re not including the Stormbeck boy in your count.”

Gray blew out a slow breath. “When he left here, his name was Gavin Uriah.” They raised their gaze to meet Daniel’s, his eyes a cold blue that always seemed to pierce through Gray. “But yes. He is dead.”

Daniel huffed out a silent laugh. “Generous of you to allow him to take your name, considering everything he’s d—”

“I don’t wish to discuss the rehabilitation of Gavin Uriah,” Gray said softly, their cheeks reddening. “I am fully aware of your opinion of him, and of redemption in general. The fact is when he left here, I had become rather fond of him. And I’d like to let his memory remain for me what he was: a broken boy who died trying to set things right.” Gray’s stomach churned.

Daniel was silent for a moment, regarding Gray coolly across his desk. After a long moment he nodded and said, “Just more evidence for the syndicates’ cruelty, then. I’m sorry your family was the target.”

“So am I,” Gray murmured. They glanced around the office and returned their gaze to Daniel. “But they had to check in with your people in the dead of night and move on without proper processing, as one of them was gravely injured. I wanted to make sure nothing was missed, and answer any questions you had.”

“No, nothing was missed,” Daniel said with a winning smile, waving his hand. “I know that your team arrived in no condition to follow protocol, and the people who checked them in are very thorough.”

“Good,” Gray murmured. The hair on the back of their neck tingled. “Did you need anything from me?”

“Actually, I could use your assistance,” Daniel said with a smile. “Due to the instability of the western region, we are already seeing an increase in the frequency and number of refugees, and am very certain that will only continue to increase. Summer is always a busy season for us, but I am anticipating unprecedented numbers. At the moment, I currently don’t have the people to handle this efficiently. Your family is particularly suited to assisting with refugees, given the nature of your work. I was hoping to recruit you in the processing, if you’re able.”

Gray nodded. “Of course. I can’t speak for the others as they are all convalescing, but I would be happy to help. I will pass on the request. I have no doubt they will offer what they can, as soon as they are able to travel. A few of them may be ready now.”

“Whatever you can do will be appreciated,” Daniel said, and stood, offering Gray his hand. Gray took it. “Always a pleasure, Gray. When you and your family are ready we will orient you with our process.”

Gray nodded. “I’ll keep you posted. Until then, stay well, Daniel.”

“Thank you.” Daniel smiled and sat down. He turned back to his work.

Gray turned and left the office, closing the door behind them. They walked down the hall, their steps quickening, their shoulders tightening. They made their way down the stairs and across the atrium. By the time they pushed through the doors out into the sun, they were nearly jogging.

Continued here

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[thewebcomicsreview]

as an artist who's... incredibly bad at drawing a lot of things, am I still able to make a webcomic?

Sure! You can do anything you put your mind to, and making a webcomic will eventually make you a much better artist! By doing, one learns, which will help you grow as an artist and as a pers-

“I meant a successful webcomic”

Ah.

Well, the answer is still yes, and there are a few options available to you

1. Hire an artist

This is what I do, so let’s not beat around the bush. Hiring a regular artist can be expensive, because even if you don’t care about “ethics” that one tumblr artist asking for $20/page is going to flake on you pretty regularly because you’re not paying her enough make space in her schedule for you. How realistic an option this is depends on your financial situation, of course. But if you’re willing to get a non-color comic or update less than one page a week, it’s not as expensive as you might think. 

2. Do a gag comic

They just generally can have less art than story comics do. Consider, for instance, Pet Foolery. The art here isn’t terrible

But from the simple art and no background, you probably wouldn’t expect this to be the single biggest comic on Patreon, with fifteen thousand patrons. But, in fact, it is! And that’s not me saying “If your comic has cute dogs you can fart out some comics and rake in the patreonbux”, this dude does a lot of stuff to promote his comic, something I’m honestly not any kind of expert in beyond half-jokingly linking my patreon, which has worked one time ever (wanna make it twice?).If you wanna “make it” in webcomics, you should probably learn SEO instead of art, especially since webcomics creators are almost comically terrible at SEO stuff. Did you know google penalizes sites sites in their search rankings if they don’t have an SSL certificate? Did you know Hiveworks, the big company dedicated to some of the biggest webcomics out there, doesn’t have SSL certificates on any of their fucking sites?

Jojo, plz

Anyway, if you’re funny and can’t draw good, there’s plenty of comics to look at that did well, including nearly every newspaper comic ever. 

3. Make a comic that shows off what you ARE good at

Get a gimmick, find a niche, come at this whole “comic” idea from a new angle. Many comics use some techno-wizardly to add some effects

Maybe you could use reader feedback to determine what the characters do, which is how MSPaint Adventures started. 

4. Just make a fucking comic, loser

“Daniel, I don’t want to make a gag comic or a gimmick comic or pay someone else to draw for me. I want to make a longform story comic as my first project and I won’t listen to people who tell me that’s a bad idea, it’s what I want to do!”

Okay, that’s cool too. 

Here’s a webcomic. The art is very crude and the letting is so bad that parts of it are literally unreadable. I have repeatedly called this among the best webcomics of all time.

Because Shaenon Garrity just kept making comics and got better at it, and eventually had a big amazing action-movie climax that wrapped up five years of storylines in a neat elegant bow and that’s never been topped by any webcomic before or since.

A lot of the early webcomics had shit art at the beginning, and now it’s harder to get noticed than ever, but it’s still possible, and you’ll improve by doing and eventually git gud.

[gumnut-logic]

We’ll Be Home For Christmas 5.3 (Bit 1)

From here | 5.2 Bit 1 | 5.2 Bit 2 | 5.2 Bit 3 | 5.3 Bit 1

This fic is my @tagsecretsanta​​ fic for 2019 and it is for @scattergraph​​ .

And I managed a little bit more writing. I’m going to attempt to chip away at this and be kind to my writing muscles in the process. There honestly isn’t much left of this fic, two, maybe three scenes at most. We’re nearly there (unless it decides to do something all of its own ::eyes Virgil:: )

But anyway, this is the last bit of the Virgil/Kayo for any who want to skip that bit. The last line pretty much lines up for the next scene, though Scotty is prodding me saying he wants to put his two cents in - I have no idea what they might be, but then, since when I have I been in control of anything.

I hope you enjoy anyway.

-o-o-o-

Kayo eventually dragged him out of the comms room and away from his brothers enough to find a quiet spot and talk it all out. They ended up on Two’s runway, A Little Lightning rocking gently below them. The breeze teased his hair.

Yes, she was interested in him.

No, she wasn’t interested in Wayne Rigby.

Yes, she had been interested for a while.

No, she hadn’t said anything until she realised he felt the same.

She kissed him again at that point and his world narrowed to her touch, her lips, her tongue, the woman in his arms. How had this happened?

How had she known?

Perhaps it didn’t matter, perhaps he should just accept the miracle for what it was. Kayo Kyrano, strong, independent, smart, cat-like and gorgeous was interested in him.

She laughed as if reading his mind.

Those green eyes...he hummed the sound that made the colour. Or part of the sound, because it wasn’t quite right. He couldn’t...

“Virgil?”

He startled. Her hand was on his arm and she was frowning up at him. The palms rattled a little above them.

He opened his mouth. “There’s a sound that makes the colour of your eyes. A transition between wave and sunlight, kelp forest and sky.” He hummed again, but hit the same frustration. “I can’t...” He sighed and looked away.

Her hand on his arm tightened. “The whales?”

He let his head drop, but said nothing.

“You need to speak to Gordon.”

“Kay-“

“You’re not fine, Virgil. You haven’t been fine since I set eyes on you yesterday. Something happened out there and it has affected you whether you want to acknowledge it or not.” Her lips thinned. “You need to speak to Gordon. He will know who to speak to.”

“Sam.” He wasn’t sure why he was reluctant. He had encouraged Scott to invite the cetacean biologist over yesterday. Yet since last night, something was holding him back.

An internal sigh. No, he knew what it was.

He was scared.

Of what, he didn’t know, but there was definitely fear. It writhed in his gut.

Colours, song, an endless ocean. It was tantalising, poetic, mysterious. Perhaps he didn’t want an explanation, perhaps he wanted to keep the magic alive.

Well, that was just stupid.

There was a musical note for stupid. It paired with a jagged shape and a sickly colour.

His fingers twitched.

Oh, hell.

“Gordon, grab Sam and meet Virgil out on Two’s runway.”

He blinked at her. Kay was never one to beat around the bush. Gordon’s acknowledgement was concise.

She was right, but… “Kay…”

She reached up and cupped his cheek. “I’ll still be here.”

He covered her hand with his own, almost scared that she would vanish and that this sudden revelation was just a dream. “Promise?” It was whispered.

She smiled up at him, but anything further she had to say was interrupted by Gordon clattering out of Two’s hangar and onto the tarmac, Sam behind him.

Those green eyes darted to his brother for a moment before looking back up at him. “Promise.” Her lips curled up around that single word and she withdrew her hands and stepped back as Gordon approached. She turned to the aquanaut as he neared.

“Look after him.”

Those three words stopped Gordon in his tracks. A flicker of comical fear flashed across his brother’s face. “Okay?”

With that, Kay smiled at Virgil again before turning and leaving, her hair rippling in the breeze behind her as she made her way back to the hangar.

“Now, that’s a little scary.”

Virgil straightened where he stood. Okay, let’s do this.

He caught both Gordon and Sam with his eyes. “We need to talk.”

-o-o-o-

 TBC

[solar-pxwered]

Lol, i love that comic of split personality trish and spice girl. What are your Narancia and separate personality spice headcanons?

Oooooo, yes, I have these!!

1. Narancia was the first one of the gang that Spice Girl spoke to directly and, even though it was really uncomfortable at first, he treated her like her own entity instead of simply an extension of Trish and so that made her very happy.

2. If Narancia and Trish are near each other and Trish falls asleep, Spice will show up to keep him company.

3. It's during those times that Spice will casually and without bad intent, spill all kinds of secrets about Trish's thoughts or habits. Narancia has learned a lot of things, some of which he didn't need or want to know.

4. I LOVED the panel in that comic where Spice is carrying Narancia around because she thinks he's "neat" and now I just really want that to be a thing. She just randomly grabs him and carries him effortlessly and it annoys him so much.

5. Spice Girl is the one to spill the beans about Trish's feelings for him. Growing tired of Trish beating around the bush, one day she just pops out and says something like "We like you a LOT, Nara! Trish thinks about you aaaaallllll the time."

6. While the rest of the Gang find Spice's autonomy very unsettling, Narancia accepts it easily. She's still part of Trish even with her separate state of being and he can recognize both and roll with it.

7. Spice is curious about EVERYTHING and she asks Narancia questions all the time. He'll always answer as best he can but sometimes he gives her wrong information and Fugo gets annoyed and has to correct her later.

[mail-me-a-snail]

House Keys

chase…oh chase i love you so but you’re in for it now. chase brody, the former bro average superstar, comes home for the first time in a year.

part 1 part 2 part 3 Even if Chase Brody had moved out the year prior, he still has the keys to his brothers’ house. He stands now on the crisp, green lawn and swings the key-chain around. He cards a hand through his hair and rubs his eyes—he doesn’t get much sleep these days. Three years before he moved into his brothers’ house, he was sleeping in the back of his car. He’s been conditioned to fall asleep on the hard leather of the car seat, not in his own bed. He didn’t have a bed those weeks. Stacy and him still don’t talk.

He shoots Marvin a text.

hey bro im outside. will come in with the keys. jackie okay? are you all okay? There’s no response. Chase shrugs and tucks his phone into the pocket of his jeans. He’s a little hurt, but it’s fine. It’s Chase’s first visit since he’s moved out. It’s exactly as he remembers it. The lawn is in immaculate condition, with the hedges trimmed neatly and flowers springing up all over the place—Jameson was always in charge of that. He has an eye for lawn care. He takes after Jack. The door and porch are dark mahogany, though it’s washed in orange now as the sun is starting to set. The house itself is painted an egg white. The tiles of the roof are black. Potted plants litter the porch, some new, some old, but all beautiful and trimmed to perfection. No doubt it’s Marvin’s work. The sidewalk he stands on is decorated with faded chalk drawings. Robbie. Of course. Chase is standing on his own face drawn in chalk. It’s a wonderful likeness and Chase can’t help but smile. Robbie even got the faded green in his hair. He steps off. He doesn’t want to ruin a masterpiece. The light in the wide upper story window—Henrik’s room—is off. The doctor’s probably getting his much needed and deserved forty winks. The only light on is in the living room. He takes a deep breath, the kind that pulls his shoulders up like he’s shrugging, and walks towards the door. Anxiety wriggles in his belly. He clutches the keys tightly in his hand—they bite into the skin and leave an impression with their teeth. He remembers the call with Marvin the night before. He had been in his apartment putting together some videos when his phone had rung. Marvin had explained everything to him; finding Jackie bleeding out in the city, teleporting him home, the surgeries…all of it. Jackie was okay, Marvin had assured him, and that he would heal. But the fact that it was…was you-know-who’s work… It hadn’t stop his hands from shaking as soon as he said goodbye and dropped the call nor did it let him breathe. His panic attacks were always bad, but he managed the one he had that night fine. And the one in the bathroom this morning. On the drive here, too. He doesn’t have everything under control yet. Being here again reminds him of all the times you-know-who had been there. He had been there, for Jack and Henrik. It went the same way; a phone call. A panic attack. The fear. Now it’s happening all over again. Why can’t he ever escape the demon? Why can’t any of them? Even a year after…he still looks over his shoulder and tosses and turns at night. When will he stop being afraid? The keys bite into his palm like his old dog had lovingly done. He misses him. Stacy had to take that away from him, too. The sting and the thought of Bulls-eye grounds Chase and he lets go, letting it hang by the key-chain instead. Deep breaths. He slides the key into the lock and turns. The door opens. Chase looks around as he steps into the hall. It’s just the same. The walls are orange. The umbrella stand to the right of the door filled with Marvin’s props, the coat hanger opposite, and the stairs upwards at the very front. To his immediate left is the closed door to Henrik’s makeshift clinic. To his right is the doorway to the living room. There’s a movie on, though Chase can’t identify it as the volume is set way down low. He doesn’t know where to go first as he stands awkwardly in the middle space. “Hello?” He says to the seemingly empty house. “Is anyone home? Marv? Schneep?” “Chase,” His heart skips a beat when he hears the raspy call from the living room, but he brightens when he recognizes the voice. “In here.” Chase has to stop himself from running into the living room. Brown couch, flat screen TV (playing Die Hard, of course), wide windows, and white curtains that blow softly. The coffee table has coffee mug rings on it and abandoned medical supplies like gauze, cotton balls, and antibiotics. Henrik’s neatly folded coat, too. Jackie sits on the couch in a black t-shirt with the brightly coloured graphic of a cartoon dog on a bicycle. He wears the flamingo shorts to accompany it. It’s the first time Chase has seen the hero out of his supersuit; it almost feels wrong. His hair is the neon green Chase remembers it to be. He’s wearing his mask. The only sign he’s been hurt at all are the bandages around his neck and forehead. He’s hardly watching the movie. He has a big smile on his face, the toothy kind of sunshine Chase missed so much. “Jackie,” he breathes. Chase wants to cry with relief. He settles with hugging Jackie as tightly as he can. “I missed you, Jackie,” he says, muffled as he buries his head into the hero’s chest. “I was so worried about you!” “O-ow, ow,” the other hacks out a laugh and winces, patting Chase’s back. “I missed you, too, bud, but…stab wound.” “Shit, right, sorry.” Chase lets go, albeit reluctantly. “Dude, how are you? It’s, I mean—I’ve never been stabbed before.” “I don’t recommend it,” Jackie grimaces. There’s humour in his voice but he also sounds exhausted. “You get here okay?” “Parked out front,” he says, “Came in with the keys. Still have ‘em.” He holds them up to confirm that. He drops them in his lap. “How’re you holding up?” “This thing—” Jackie pats his stomach, presumably where the wound is. “—is a bitch and a half of pain. The neck thing I can handle. It just hurts to talk.” He coughs. It sounds like shaking a dead bush. “Really hurts.” “Oh, I can do the talking, if you want.” “No, it’s okay, Chase. Marvin did something to me, I think, when I was out. Makes my mouth and throat taste like mint. Pretty soothing, actually. Besides, I haven’t seen you in forever! I want to talk.” How can he be so chipper even after he almost died? Chase doesn’t understand it. He really is a comic book superhero. Always getting back up again. “Aw, it hasn’t been that long,” Chase ducks his head, sheepish, but straightens right away. “Can I ask, though? What…what happened?” The silence is thick with tension. Chase bounces his leg, the sole of his sneaker squeaking against the hardwood floor, and pulls at the rubber bracelet around his right wrist under his hoodie sleeve. He picks at the multicoloured bandages on his fingers and arms. Jackie turns the TV off just as John McClain launches himself through a window. He turns to Chase. Their knees touch. “This is what I remember,” Jackie says, and begins. He had met Anti during one of his day patrols, but it wasn’t the song and dance number they usually did; it was in the back-alleys where no one could see them. Maybe that’s what Anti wanted. Maybe it wasn’t. “Anti had…had said something to me,” he mumbles, “that I’m not the hero I think I am. That all of what we do, this hero versus villain thing, is just a show. I-I don’t know why he’s been pretending this long, or…or what he hopes to gain, but…” Chase watches him closely. Jackie stops, shakes his head, and moves on. That’s how the hero has always been. Hit a wall? Just go around. Forget about the wall and keep going. He remembers the fight—and the pinning stab through the gut. The words Anti whispered into his ear. Chase is trembling with raw anger as he sees the large dark bruise marks wrapped around Jackie’s neck where Anti’s hands had been. “But after that,” he growls in frustration, “I can’t remember anything else. By my wound here, I can guess what finished me off.” He taps his neck. “Everything else is beyond me.” “Fuck him” Chase breathes, voice quivering with fury, “You’re a hero to me, to everyone. To Jack.” Jackie flinches when he hears those words. “I don’t have any powers,” Jackie mutters. “What? Yeah, you do! That—that super strength of yours!” “Anti can manipulate objects,” Jackie shoots back, “Time and space, just like Marvin can. How do I know he hasn’t been doing it for me this whole time?” “I…I don’t know.” The anger evaporates as quickly as it came. “I-I don’t want to talk about this.” Jackie throws his hands up. “Please, Chase, let’s…let’s talk about you, okay? I want to hear about where you’ve been—what you’ve done.” Chase bites his lip, trying to find a way to stop the subject from changing. The one frustrating thing about superheroes? They build walls around them, shutting the people they love out hoping to save them from whatever inner turmoil they’re wrangling with. …Chase isn’t stupid or in denial. Even he can admit the similarities between them. But that’s just it. Chase knows he does it—Jackie doesn’t. He’d rather not push further and get into an argument, spoiling the whole visit, so Chase drops it. It’ll sit in the back of his mind, though. He tells Jackie about the new apartment; it’s spacious and less of a dump than the last one. Modest kitchen, shower instead of a tub. “I miss the tub here,” he says forlornly, gesturing to the stairs. “And my little rubber ducky. Shower’s okay, though.” He earns Jackie’s laugh. The apartment is far into the city, maybe ten blocks away from the alley Marvin had found Jackie in, and just across a coffee shop. Having cleaner, more colorful walls than ugly white granite that popcorned helps a lot to take his mind off more…painful things. He hung up posters, bought a flatscreen, had a whole new gaming rig up for himself—he’s doing okay for himself, he thinks. The therapy, the talking, has brought him out of the hole he was in three years before. He tells him about new friends. Baristas at the coffee shop who’ve recognized him as a regular. YouTube is more fun than anything for him right now. The Bro Average brand was dissolved, but he couldn’t care less. It had been time for a fresh start. His channel is up and running and he’s been invited to panels, talks, and conventions. Some people from AA said they had watched his videos. He tells Jackie about how good it is to just. Work. To produce content for others to consume, to make people happy, but not at the cost of his own happiness. He notices he’s rambling when Jackie says nothing and keeps beaming at him. He falters and lets his words trail off into silence. “What?” Chase says. “I’m so proud of you,” Jackie replies, and the pride is trembling in his voice. “Chase, you’ve gotten so far without us. You’ve got a job, a new house—you’re practically shining!” “You’re…you’re proud of me? You mean it?” Chase feels himself smile, too. “Yes. I’m proud.” Jackie puts a hand on his shoulder. “You’re my bro. You’re the bravest damn person I know and you’ve come out of this so strong, so…it’s…Jack would be proud too.” Chase understands why he starts crying. That’s all he ever wanted. To hear those words come out of Jackie’s mouth. It means he’s done it. He’s gotten better. Maybe not recovered fully, not just yet, but better. Even in his joy, he hates himself for crying because whenever he cries he bawls like a big baby. He buries his face into Jackie’s chest, shoulders shaking. He’s staring at the cartoon dog through blurry, teary eyes. The dog says, in a neon bubble, “RADICAL!” The other rubs his back in soothing circles. “That’s it, buddy,” Jackie whispers, “I’ve got you, bro.” Chase swallows thickly, sniffles, and wipes his face with the back of his hand. Jackie hands him a tissue and he blows. His eyes are stuffy. He looks up into Jackie’s eyes, milky white, hidden behind the film in the mask, but he can tell they’re full of soft, unspoken love. The hero holds his cheek. “Chase Brody Mcloughlin,” Jackie declares, “I, your loving bro, will never stop being proud of you. Don’t forget that.” “Thanks, Jackie,” he sniffs, wiping his eyes. “Thank you. It’s…i-it’s nice to hear that what I’m doing is finally right.” “We’re all proud of you.” Jackie’s hand drops but gives Chase’s shoulder one last firm pat. “S-speaking of,” Chase clears his throat. “Speaking of…where is everyone?” Jackie blanks. “Uh,” he says, unsure. “Good question, actually! No idea. I woke up, like, ten minutes before you came in. I kind of assumed Henrik went to work, and who knows where Marvin is at any given time? JJ and Robbie are out on vacation or something. It’s just Henrik, Marvin, and I.” “Huh,” Chase frowns and stands. “You wait here, Jackie. Henrik can’t have gone to work; he’d never leave you here alone.” “Marvin would be watching over me!” He argues. “This is Marvin we’re talking about!” He shoots back as he leaves the room. He considers going upstairs but stops before he can do it. He notices, to his surprise, that across the hall the clinic’s lights are on. How did he not notice that coming in? The harsh white fluorescents bounce off the tiles and under the door. Chase knocks. “Doc? Marv?” He says, “Yoo-hoo. Anyone in there?” Of course, unsettling silence follows. Great. Chase has played enough horror games to know that whatever’s on the other side is bad. He flinches as glass shatters behind the door. A shadow moves under the door. “Henrik?” “Schiesse!” comes a muffled curse to answer. Angry German swearing? Yeah. That’s Henrik. “What the hell was that?!” Jackie says from the couch, halfway to standing. Chase notices he’s wobbling like a newborn deer. “Jackie, get back on the couch,” Chase scolds the hero, “You’re in no condition to walk!” He turns back to the door. “Doc, I’m coming in.” He takes a deep breath, grips the doorknob, and turns. What he finds on the other side isn’t horrible, so he releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Henrik, hair messy and eye bags seemingly darker, clutching his head, is kneeling among shattered glass. From the way the metal table beside the hospital bed is on its side, Chase surmises that Henrik knocked it and the beakers that were on it to the ground when he tried to stand. “Doc!” He exclaims, rushing over to Henrik. He takes the doctor by the arm, helping him up, and looping the arm around his shoulders. “Danke,” Henrik grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “Chase, is that you?” “A-are you blind, Henrik?” Panic momentarily flares up in him. “Oh, jeez, I can get something for your eyes. Maybe ice—” “No,” Henrik sighs, but in the most affectionate way possible. He opens his eyes halfway, tired grey-blues looking up at him. “Chase, relax. I’m not blind. It’s these damn fluorescents—they could make me go blind. I don’t know why I thought they were a good idea. This nausea…it’s like someone took a hammer to my skull. Might as well have… I see enough of those lights in the hospital. Is it any wonder I wear glasses…” Henrik reaches into his pocket for something. He swears again as he brings out the bent and cracked frames of his glasses. “Oh, that is just great,” he hisses under his breath, “They must’ve gotten smashed in the fight.” “T…the what?” This is plenty strange already, but of course, he just has to notice only now that Marvin is crumpled in a desk chair, long, flowy hair messy and tangled, falling behind him as his head leans back, showing his neck. “Oh my God—Marvin!” “He’s okay,” Henrik straightens, though he’s still too weak to stand. Chase helps him into another chair. The doctor sits down with a sigh of relief, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “What the hell happened here?” Chase gestures vaguely to the entire room. “To Marvin? Actually, to you? Was it…was it you-know-who?” “Anti,” the doctor spits. Chase winces at the name. “It’s not right to fear his name. He and I had an…encounter last night. I thought I was going to die.” He briefly touches his neck. Chase sees all the scars crisscrossed there; it’s why the doctor wears turtlenecks to work. He’s always been insecure about them. “I thought it was all over but…but I woke up here. My head hurts like a bitch but I’ve got no other wounds. My neck, my concussion—they’re healed, like they were never there. "So, I have reason to believe,” he continues, “Marvin used the full extent of his magic to save me. It’s probably why he’s passed out.” “He’s always been shit at restoration magic,” Chase jokes, but turns serious right away. “Jesus, doc. Are you really okay? Why the fuck did you-know-wh—I mean,—A…Anti go after you?” “Teach me a lesson? Finish me off?” Henrik raises his shoulder in a shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. God, I’m sorry, Chase, that this is the scene you’ve returned to. You’ve had enough of this…this Anti business, and now we’re dragging you back into it. Forgive me.” “No, doc, don’t say that,” Chase waves him off, “it’s not your fault. Besides, the guy’s messing with my brothers. That’s not gonna fly with me.” His voice shakes. He knows how unconvincing his moxie is. He swallows the stone in his throat and turns away before Henrik can call him out on it. The man crosses the room and takes a trauma blanket from the cabinet—he practically knows the clinic as well as Henrik does—and drapes it over Marvin. The magician barely stirs. He’s completely out. “CHASE? IS EVERYONE OKAY?” Jackie shouts from the living room. Chase startles and nearly knocks some important doodad over. Henrik’s blue eyes crackle to life at the sound of the hero’s voice. “He’s okay,” he says more to himself than Chase, “Oh, God, he’s okay.” To Chase, he says, “Chase, help me up—I must see Jackie.” “But what about Marv?” “He’ll need rest. Neither of us are strong enough to move him upstairs. Please, Chase, let’s go.” Henrik is almost begging. The tone unnerves and stirs Chase into action. He helps the doctor, slowly and surely, into the living room. “Henrik?” Jackie breaths, “What happened to you? Why are you limping? Is Marvin o—” Henrik launches himself from Chase’s arms and onto Jackie, nearly tackling the hero into the sofa. Jackie grunts in pain. “You idiot,” Henrik growls, though with utmost love. “You had me so worried! You could’ve died.” He hugs Jackie tight, despite his weak state. “Don’t ever do that again.” “What, get stabbed?” When Henrik glares up at him, he sobers. “Okay, okay. I won’t. I promise. Chase, where’s Marvin?” “Getting some rest,” Chase explains, “He used a whole bunch of his magic to heal Henrik. A-Anti attacked the doc last night.” “He…what?” Jackie’s tone is dangerously quiet. His shoulders are tense—he looks like an apex predator. It takes everything in Chase not to back away. “Calm yourself,” Henrik cautions, “I’m okay now. Marvin made sure of it. It is true; I had a fight with Anti and…I did not emerge the victor. But it’s alright. I’m alright.” Jackie deflates and hugs Henrik back. “I’m glad you’re okay, doc.” “You too, Jackie.” Chase bites his lip and leaves the room. He knows what he said about Anti, that he’d be ready to fight the demon again, given the chance. It’s one big lie, because he is fucking terrified of Anti, terrified of the fact that this is all very real, and that it had gotten all too real very fast. He wants to run away in that stupid little way of his, where he drives and drives until he can’t or locks himself up in his room, anywhere where Anti can’t reach him. He’s managed not to see the demon for a full year. He can’t do this. He can’t. Not again. Not again. – Chase goes up to his room and finds the hatch to the roof still unlocked. He goes out and sits there, on the uncomfortable tiles, and stares up at the stars. It’s somewhere around 11:30, maybe midnight. He doesn’t check his phone. Henrik’s gone to sleep. Jackie had helped Chase move Marvin to the couch. The both of them weren’t nearly strong enough to bring him up to his bedroom. Some part of Chase is telling him to relapse. To drink. He snaps the rubber bracelet against his wrist over and over instead. It makes an angry red mark. It’s a distraction. It makes him all the more ashamed of how fast he crumbles in the face of all this. He’s hasn’t gotten better. Even in the darkness, he knows what the bracelet says. He’s seen it, worn it ever since the last time Anti had tormented him. Alcoholics Anonymous, in white letters against a garish neon green. His mouth tastes of smoke. His eyes are heavy. He is tired and deflated. His brothers nearly dead—what a sight to come home to. At least now, he’s here for them. He is so tired, he doesn’t turn around when the hatch opens and Jackie sits beside him. He’s changed out of that cartoon dog shirt—he sports one of Henrik’s striped shirts. “Hey,” Jackie greets him softly. Chase can see the hero watching the bracelet snap repeatedly against his wrist, which he doesn’t stop. “Hey.” Silence. Cicadas. Snap. Snap. Snap. “How long have you been sober?” Chase knows how much Jackie wants to say more, but he doesn’t. It’s a simple question. “A year.” An exact year from the last time Anti hurt him. He and Jackie match in scars now. Not on the neck, though. “Dude, that’s awesome. I’m proud of you.” The words are hollow. He doesn’t deserve them. Snap. Snap. Snap. “Chase?” Snap. Snap. Snap. “Welcome home.” Chase breaths shakily. His wrist stings. He cries, the fourth time that day, and bites back the urge to scream. “He’s g-going to f-find me again,” he says through quick breaths, “I’m n-next.” “Chase…” The man shakes his head furiously. “I-I’m not leaving. If he think he can fucking s-scare me,” Chase hiccups, “he’s w-wrong. I’m tired of r-running away. I’m going to fight.” Nothing, for a moment. Then, Jackie says, “It’s what Jack would’ve wanted.” Chase cries harder at that. He wants to toss his house keys off this damn roof and never see them again, because they remind him too much of the doors he’s just opened up. He’s not afraid. Shaking and sobbing, he is not afraid. He is furious.

[sith-shame-shack]

1. yes V for Vendetta was worth the rewatch 15 years later, 2. BIG oof

re-watched V for Vendetta on the advice of a comrade last night and fellas: it does really, really, really hit different now. Not just because of the Situation generally but because when I first saw it in theaters I was 14 and not especially aware of even the contemporary American political context (Bush, the then-new War on Terror) let alone the context of its writing. But now I’m a Marxist, have been to way more riots, and recently got arrested by the national guard. Also my roommate and I watched it only a couple hours after she got maced by cops.  It hit DIFFERENT.  

First of all, I think there’s textual evidence that V was written, in the original comic, as like a classic anarcho-nihilist. I know Moore wasn’t involved in the film adaptation and was actually against it, and I haven’t read the comic in many years, but there were elements here and there which made me think that this was probably the authorial intent translated through an American writing team and director. 

Anyway, I was thinking about what I would do if I were to re-write the movie specifically. 

I’d nix the romance plot-- both because I didn’t find it very convincing or useful, it didn’t exist in the comic, and because I don’t think V is a person with the capacity to pursue that kind of relationship-- but I would emphasize that V and Evey now have a bizarre traumatic bond. She now understands what he came from, even as she knows that he tried to galvanize her by torture. She is the sole remaining survivor of what happened to him at Lark Hill, if only a second-hand survivor as a function of him directly inflicting it on her. (This plot point also made a lot more sense to me for.... upsetting personal reasons, mostly. Like, yeah, being confronted by life-imperiling violence does, in some people, engender a new relationship with fear and a new capacity for inflicting violence themselves. I don’t know how other people talk about this but I think of it as like, breaking the psychological violence barrier that most people have. This is NOT actually a good way to make cadre because there are also other, often life-destroying effects, but I don’t actually think V was trying to canonically forge Evey into a militant. I think he was trying to just kill Evey’s lifelong all-encompassing fear in much the same way that he himself became what he became, so that she could do Whatever. I also wonder how much of this was a horrific, malignant attempt to reveal himself, to make someone else who knows what happened to him. It’s perverse but it makes sense to me.) 

I think in my re-writing they’d mutually agree to his murder-suicide thing. Evey would acknowledge that part of this decision has to do with his spirit’s inability to confront the question of the struggle that comes after his big demonstrative act of undermining and delegitimizing the state monopoly on violence: of breaking that barrier in the minds of the public at large. He’s not capable of facing this future but she is, and actually her entire life— not simply his role in it— has made her able to cope with that in large part because she’s still capable of finding solace and strength in having human connections. His capacity to do this is so eroded that his primary relationship for decades has been to a dead woman he never met except by suffering in a way similar to how she suffered. Maybe this is the key to why he tortured Evey, too: he needs to be known in the most intimate way he ever knew another person.  

really what i’d want to see is V precipitating mass action by making its possibility unignorable, and Evey participating because she can be in a mass movement. I’d want to spend more time on Evey’s resiliency as coming from not only a well inside of herself but also her capacity for loving others and being loved. This part isn’t really present in the text at all, but I’d want V and Evey to be in contrast: the total lone actor, the woman who is still a member of the human body and who still wants to be. 

Really, I would want my imaginary remake to be about: 1. surviving trauma, 2. carrying on the struggle, 3. how connections to others impact both of those things. 

It was worth the re-watch but boy, I don’t think I really understood how incredibly different it would read to me now. 

[valkyriebrunie]

Getting to Know You

Getting to Know All About You.

Another tag game, yo! Tag 8 People You’d Like to Get to Know Better! I was tagged by the most incredible @movrings​! You’re the only one who tags me in things! Thank you, Love! <3

1. Favorite Colors:

Pale lavender, mint or sea foam green, light pink, and peach, Tiffany Blue

2. Last Song I Listened To:

Ultraviolet by Freya Ridings. It just feels so ethereal with a solid slow beat. Relaxing. Her voice is just so wonderful to listen to when you unwind. She can sound kind of other worldly. To me, it’s reminiscent of both flying or feeling the sensation of a soft waterfall beating down on you.

3. Favorite Musicians:

Florence + The Machine, Kate Bush, Queen, Lady Gaga, David Bowie, The Judds, Duran Duran, Edith Piaf, Jessie J, Anna Natrebko. And many mooooooore!

4. Last Movie I Watched:

Bringing Up Baby

Oh. My. God. This movie! First of all, I am biased. My mother named me after Katherine Hepburn. But! I feel like it’s a prime part of cinematic history. It’s been a favorite of mine since I was little. This is an old fashioned farce, with two amazing comedic actors, a leopard, and a dog. The chemistry between Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn is mind-blowing. And their comic timing together, it’s just legendary. Two thumbs up.

5. Favorite Character

So many good ones! I mean, Jaskier from The Witcher, Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice, Agent Peggy Carter (Marvel), The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher, Tannis from Letterkenny, Mercy Thompson from the series by Patricia Briggs, Buffy (all the different incarnations, Kristy Swanson included). But my favorite, for years now, has been one half of my OTP.

Stiles Stillinski (Teen Wolf)

Best character on the show. By far. And best acted too. Teen Wolf didn’t deserve Dylan O’Brien and the terrible story line certainly didn’t deserve Stiles. That’s why I’m so thankful:

(Meme source: @writing-and-nutmeg​ )

6. Last TV Show:

Two of them! I keep switching back and forth. The first I watch when I feel the need for a bit of levity, and the second, when I’m in a more serious mood:

a. Letterkenny

This one took me completely by delighted surprise. I really do recommend. The characters really make an impression. But each of them. They just get under your skin, but in a good way. This is a seriously talented ensemble cast, really well written and the quips are whip-smart and take you by surprise. Fair warning, this makes the show incredibly quotable and days later you will still be muttering things like, “pitter patter,” “You wanna come to a super soft birthday party?,” “hard no,” and “Figure it out!”

b. Elementary

So, I love mysteries. And since I was wee, I’ve been a fan of Sherlock Holmes. I really like this iteration. The fact that Watson is a Joan and not a John is interesting as is the premise that she begins as Sherlock’s sober companion. And I love that they don’t creep into the area of romance between the two of them, they’re just bros for life. That dynamic as well as the mysteries and solves, no matter how rediculous or unrealistic certain events happen to be, just makes it so enjoyable for me.

7. Sweet, Spicy, or Savory: Sweet & Savory together. Never Spicy.

8. Sparkling Water, Tea, or Coffee:

NEVER sparkling water. Flat for me! Preferably Tea, got addicted during Study Abroad. Blame the Brits. Coffee for a treat. But like, super sweet coffee.

9. Pets:

Cap’n Jack (the surly Bichon) and Baby James (the recently domesticated street dog)

Cap’n Jack, a.k.a. Jacker Snacker, a.k.a. Snacky, a.k.a. Snackus Aurelius. He is a grumpy old man who likes to dance/trot towards you as he tosses his head in an unparalleled display of adorableness. Baby James is a giant dork with an under bite, a crooked bottom canine, and a mohawk growing up the bridge of his nose to his forehead. Couple this appearance with the way he cocks his head to listen, and he resembles a velociraptor crossed with an orc. But in a way that makes you want to coo at him and give him kisses. These noodles. They drive me bananas.

Well, that was fun! Hope you enjoyed! I’m tagging @theannettles​, @jim-im-a-doctor-not-a-physicist​, @dontstepinmypuddle​, @swingsetindecember​, @pantstomatch​, and anyone else who feels the need!