#oh and the caption says it's his greatest film yet

[aikainkauna]

Promotional material for Sehnsucht (1921), a lost F.W. Murnau film in which Conrad Veidt played a Russian dancer (Bajazzo is the type of clown he’s portraying here). 

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[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 34: AMJ #6.1

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You know I considered ending this series after the initial arc. I may well discontinue it after awhile. But for now at least I am going to press on. Thus begins the second of what I and dead certain will be a shitty arc of AMJ. Pray for me.

Before we dive into the issue I want to quote for you the solicit for this issue:

WELCOME TO NY, MJ! After the CAN’T-MISS events of AMAZING MARY JANE #5, your favorite redhead is back home! First stop: Spider-Man! But has her relationship with Mysterio changed things with the love of her life? Next stop: a press tour! Complete with iconic New York guest-starring gigs, and OH NO WHAT’S THAT?!?

We spent over 10 years of seeing Peter and MJ separated in the 616 universe.

Thanks to Nick Spencer they blessedly got back together.

Across 25 issues we got to see Peter and MJ interact and 99% of the time it was awesome and helped some old and open wounds get a little better.

It wasn’t every issue, but that was good. Don’t want to get indulgent right?

Then this series came along and Peter/MJ interactions got limited again due to the nature of the story.

That was a shame but at least we were going to get a great MJ story right?

Except we didn’t. We got a story that paradoxically simultaneously celebrated MJ whilst also inadvertently character assassinating her and just being a disgusting fucking mess in general.

But here we have MJ back in New York where Spider-Man is. This issue is even promising us an interaction between them.

Sounds good right?

Let’s see if it will deliver.

As always here we get the recap.

And once more it gives us the full title of the movie in spite of the comic yet to have done that.

As for the ‘strength of his vision blah blah blah’, you know the drill by now. That’s all bullshit, Mary Jane would never connect to Beck over that or allow him to walk free because of that.

There is also a passage in the recap claiming that MJ connected to Beck over familiarity with his situation. The idea of this being their last chance to make it big. I’ve already talked about how that’s bullshit, see part 12.

Finally, the recap confirms that MJ has still failed to tell Peter the truth. Nice to know MJ will continue to be hardcore out of character moving forward into this new arc.

As the issue starts we see MJ introduced as a guest on some kind of chat show.

As has been the case throughout the series, the art is (stylistically at least) gorgeous.

Beyond that there is little to about this page. Except of course the fact that Mary Jane has thought captions.

Let me repeat that.

For the first time in six  issues the readers are being given an insight into the thoughts of title character!

You know, if this were a brand new run, a re-launch or even say the beginning of an outright new era for a series maybe that’d be okay.

But it isn’t. It’s the same run, the same volume, the same story, merely the next arc. This is like if Nick Spencer hadn’t used thought captions throughout the first five issues of his ASM run but then randomly did for the Trivia Night storyline with Boomerang.

Thought captions are perhaps one of the single most potent weapons in the arsenal of a comic book writer. It allows for immense development of characters and enables writers to combine the strength of prose stories with those of more visual mediums.

Now, it’s not that it’s bad to simply not use them. But be consistent. Thought captions would’ve gone a long way in helping us understand Mary Jane better in the first arc along with elaborating upon her asinine decisions there.

Not to mention for a character so often written off as shallow or just eye candy wouldn’t an insight into her thoughts have helped dispel such accusations? Jed Mackay has been doing that pretty consistently since the first issue of his Black Cat run. There it has done wonders for Felicia and fleshed her out more.

It’s especially bad when we consider we got more of an insight into MJ’s thoughts and feelings in one issue  of Nick Spencer’s ASM run than in the entire five prior issues of her solo title.

Anyway, as her interview with Reilly Redding begins there is some quips and verbal jousting going on. Reilly asks if the movie has wrapped but MJ explains that McKnight and the crew are still shooting in L.A. Reilly asks if MJ is sure about that.

This isn’t a positive, more a general observation. I’m not overly familiar with chat shows, let alone American ones, but to my eyes the host seems influenced by Ellen DeGeneres.

Anyway, let me dispense with the pettiest of gripes first. I hate Reilly’s hairstyle. I hate that hairstyle in general. To me it looks really stupid, like you went for a haircut but gave up halfway through. That’s not in anyway shape or form a fair criticism. I totally own that. It is just a tiny point that really bothers me personally.

On the more positive side, Williams continues her frustrating tendency to nail  MJ’s personality traits within a problematic context. MJ’s social skills are one of her greatest powers and here her charisma and ability to play verbal tennis with Reilly is executed superlatively. When Williams does stuff like this she delivers some of the best Mary Jane writing in a long time. Which is why I hate saying and believing that she shouldn’t work on the character over all. She makes traits of MJ shine whilst nevertheless damaging the character over all.

Case in point, the movie is still filming right? And the Vulture (and probably the other members of the Savage Six) are still out there. Let’s be kind and presume they are in a new secret location. That means Vulture will still want to find out where they are, so all the people (and their families) from issue #4 are still going to be harassed by the Vulture’s paparazzi gang and potentially threatened by the six themselves.

Oh well, MJ still DGAF I guess.

Guess she doesn’t care that she’s appearing in public (in NYC of all places!) in spite of six villains now holding a very direct grudge against her.

Also, we FINALLY get the full name of the movie in the story itself, not the recap pages.

As the interview continues, MJ takes questions from the audience. One man asks what it’s like for her to play a real hero for the first time considering she’s played normal female roles before.

MJ responds that they are all heroes to her. She doesn’t really make the female role distinction quite the same way either. It’s more like she plays a hero who is also a woman.

The next question is about the weird press speculation about Cage McKnight’s conduct. The woman asking the question wants to know what he’s really like. MJ responds that he’s great, just dedicated to the craft and protective of his crew. She points out the paparazzi didn’t take kindly to him because he in turn didn’t take kindly to them hounding the movie.

Reilly then reveals McKnight is here for the interview.

Once more, Williams (with a huge help from Gomez’s art) conveys the charisma and social savvy of MJ here. Gomez’s body language demands particular praise. He conveys MJ’s beauty, flirtation, charm, etc. And he does it on multiple levels. The subtle genius of this page is how Gomez captures MJ putting on a performance for the public, to convince them she’s being utterly genuine and casual.

As for the dialogue, the best faith interpretation of the man’s question, he meant MJ has never played a super hero before, just normal non-powered women. He didn’t mean stereotypical female roles. That interpretation makes MJ’s response make more sense than if the former was the intent. So I’ll give Williams a pass and presume that was in fact her intent.

As for the second question it further highlights the unethical nature of allowing Mysterio to impersonate McKnight. The real McKnight has a lot of gossip and a new public image that was not of his own making. It wasn’t even an unfair fabrication by the press, it existed specifically because someone else was using his name, face and reputation for personal gain.

Also the audacity of Williams to directly reference issue #4 where Ken was harassed by the Vulture’s paparazzi squad but just ignore the fact that that should still be going on.

To MJ’s confusion Cage McKnight joins the interview. However, he doesn’t seem to know anything about the movie at all. He says the first he heard of the movie was when he was contacted for the interview. Meanwhile MJ frantically contacts Beck on her phone. Reilly notices and calls MJ out just before Beck confirms he’s still in L.A.

To MJ’s horror she realizes she’s sitting next to the real Cage McKnight who’s returned from his penguin expedition. Reilly asks why he came on the show if he doesn’t remember movie. Cage responds that just because he doesn’t remember making the movie doesn’t mean he didn’t. he explains that in the past he’s made movies in ‘artistic fugues’ and presumes this is just one such time.

*pinches bridge of nose*

Oh my Gooooooooood this is so dumb.

I get the desire to have humour in a story for the sake of levity. But the world of Spider-Man is not even remotely a borderline Deadpool or Harley Quinn or Lobo comic book. The humour doesn’t come from absurdity or a cartoonlike breaking of logic and reality.

And make no mistake, this is absurd. Scratch that, it’s contrived to the nth degree.

First of all I’m not that well read up on fugue states so I briefly consulted Wikipedia who had this to say:

Dissociative fugue, formerly fugue state or psychogenic fugue, is a dissociative disorder[1] and a rare psychiatric disorder characterized by reversible amnesia for personal identity, including the memories, personality, and other identifying characteristics of individuality. The state can last days, months or longer. Dissociative fugue usually involves unplanned travel or wandering and is sometimes accompanied by the establishment of a new identity. It is a facet of dissociative amnesia, according to the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5).

-Wikipedia

Basically a fugue state is a sort of similar condition to Dissociative Identity Disorder, more commonly known as having a split personality. Only instead of an individual’s psyche fracturing into different personalities that take dominance, it’s someone’s mind running away with itself and becoming someone else. The individual forgets aspects of who they are and becomes someone else.

A very good example within fiction can be found in the Doctor Who episode ‘The Next Doctor’. In it a man named Jackson Lake suffers a traumatic experience and in the midst of it (through a sci-fi gizmo) absorbs a lot of information on the character of the Doctor. His traumatized mind consequently decides to imitate what it regards as the Doctor.

What I’m saying is McKnight’s dialogue about his fugues are very probably bullshit unless someone can cite evidence to the contrary. 

Using the above description though McKnight has gotten this rare  psychiatric disorder multiple times and specifically in conjunction with his job as a filmmaker. Yeah, no. Not buying it and neither should you.

Being a film director isn’t a muscle memory skill you can’t forget no matter what. People with amnesia or Alzheimer’s disease do not forget how to play the piano or how to drive. But directing a movie? There are so many moving pieces to that job that rely upon you knowing how equipment and more importantly individual people operate. You have to bear a shitton of theory in mind too. It is physically  impossible to repeatedly  have fugues and then maintain that job.

And even if it was, oh my lord, that is the single most contrived thing in this series yet. Are you SERIOUSLY telling me that Mary Jane and Beck and the entire production got this  lucky. The guy who’s reputation is what the movie is riding on happens  to be someone who repeatedly deals with this incredibly rare mental condition?

Holy shit. That’s Superior Spider-Man levels of contrived.

And yet if you still swallowed all of that it still wouldn’t make sense!

McKnight presumes he made this Mysterio movie in a fugue state right? But he wasn’t, so he would remember his life during that period of time. Meaning that there are lots of public records and personal accounts testifying that he was making the movie at the same time that he  knows he was observing penguins.

If you suffer amnesia or blackouts or DID then there are obviously gaps in time you cannot account for. The overwhelming majority of people who deal with those conditions make a point of keeping track of those gaps, for practical reasons if nothing else. So McKnight would know that there isn’t a gap in time he can’t account for and certainly not for the time period the Mysterio movie has been going for.

Shit, the movie is still  filming! How the Hell does he believe he is still making this movie in a fugue state if he’s consciously aware of lacking any knowledge about it?

Not to mention if he’s been in the Falkland Islands this whole time. A quick Google search informed me that by plane it’d take over 14 hours  to travel between the islands and Los Angeles. How the fuck is anyone supposed to ever commute that distance, let alone regularly. And McKnight sincerely believes he was doing both at the same goddam time?

You couldn’t even argue that McKnight believes he made the Mysterio movie before his penguin expedition. Because the movie is still being made and all his other ‘artistic fugues’ would have a movie as proof of what he was doing during the fugues.

This is just mind-numbingly stupid and lazy writing. It smacks so hard of Williams trying to desperately paper over the holes in her initial story.

More importantly, how fucking stupid is Mary Jane or Beck to never considered this possibility? I don’t mean the fugue bullshit, I mean the idea of McKnight just coming back  from his penguin adventure.

Was Mysterio honestly so incompetent as to have never accounted for that? He seriously never had anything in place to make sure McKnight wouldn’t just decide to cut his journey short? Jesus, and I was dumb enough to buy his line about McKnight spending a year with the penguins.

Even putting that aside, what the flying fuck was MJ and Beck’s plan for when he eventually  came back in the first place? Say he really did spend a year with the penguins then came back to the USA. Suddenly he has a movie with his name attached to it and lots of controversy. Let’s say McKnight’s fugue bullshit added up, there is no indication MJ or beck knew about them. So how the Hell were they planning on getting away with the obvious questions he or his friends or family would have had?

And if they did know about the fugues, why didn’t Williams address that before? That was kind of  a lingering question hanging over the story until now wasn’t it?

God I can’t believe I paid for this!

On the next page MJ spots a guy in an Oni Mask backstage. She presumes he’s there to scare her as part of the show. However, she notices that the P.A.s haven’t seen him. Meanwhile Reilly set up a stupid game for them to play.

I got nothing to say about this page beyond McKnight’s dialogue. Williams is clearly trying to frame the real McKnight in a less than sympathetic manner. There could be many reasons why. I suspect one of the reasons is to incline us more towards Beck’s version of McKnight and to make us not feel as bad about Beck (and MJ) exploiting his identity.

Because being vaguely and lightly sexist means you deserve to have your career, public image, sense of self and life violated and damaged I guess?????????????

As Reilly brings in people from the audience to compete against McKnight and MJ, the latter thinks that there is something weirdly familiar about the Oni-masked man.

I have little to say about this page too.

Reilly’s attitude and facial expressions make me dislike her, even beyond her stupid haircut.

And as for the Oni-Masked man (I’ll just call him Oni for now) my only guess is that he’s affiliated with Mister Negative somehow. He had his goons wear Oni masks at times. And MJ interacted with them and Mister Negative himself in the popular 2018 Spider-Man video game by Insomniac; and it’s adapted comic book City at War. As such perhaps Williams is trying to tie-in or capitalize upon audience familiarity with that.

As MJ plays the dumb game he ponders if Oni could be a lesser member of Peter’s rogue’s gallery. Observing him again she notices him murder a civilian.

The dumb game annoyed me, but that’s just me.

Beyond that all I can say is that MJ’s dialogue about Peter’s rogue’s gallery is interesting. It proves that MJ has at least a working knowledge of Peter’s major foes. Which just further proves she would have been familiar with Mysterio and his crimes, just in case anyone was still clinging to the idea that she wouldn’t.

Also, the art and especially that splash page were beautiful.

Unfortunately for MJ, Oni notices she witnessed his crime. MJ is nervous and backs away in fear, annoying McKnight when she bumps into him. Meanwhile Spider-Man swings across town yelling for to hold on as he is on the way.

Gomez draws a nice Spider-Man.

Anyway, more of Williams making us dislike McKnight, see above for more on that.

MJ backing away in fear has me apprehensive. I don’t know if that’s in character for her. I guess the shock and surprise could’ve thrown her for a loop. And if Oni doesn’t notice her then it gives her a better chance of raising the alarm and capturing him.

I must say, I do like MJ being on the backfoot here after issues #1-5 made her often overconfident and over capable at times (see her nonchalance over the Savage Six in issue #5).

Also, isn’t MJ going to give Oni the benefit of the doubt? Maybe he’s sorry for murdering that guy just now. Maybe he wants to make amends by creating a movie about his life. So why is MJ so scared?

Sure, he just murdered someone, but what is that next to the laundry list of Beck’s crimes?

As it turns out, Spidey wasn’t on his way to save MJ. He was in fact en route to a French restaurant to have dinner with her. He is actually before MJ for a change.

I know Gomez isn’t the only artist on this issue and this doesn’t look like his work. Who ever is drawing it though is doing a very bland depiction of Peter with a overly wrinkly forehead.

The joke about him arriving first for a change was funny though.

Back at the studio, the show wraps up. McKnight insults Reilly’s profession just in case you’ve not realised he is a jerk yet. MJ thinks about persuading everyone to evacuate and searches for her phone. She notices Oni leaving and decides to leave her phone behind.

I already know MJ is going to pursue Oni herself. The stupidity of that aside why the fuck wouldn’t you grab your phone before doing that? You could use it no matter where you wind up and it wasn’t so far away that he’d get that much of a head start.

In fact, if Oni knows MJ is a witness why did he bother hanging around in the first place.

And why didn’t MJ raise the alarm immediately, the worst that would happen is the guy would run away. He’s just stealthily murdered someone and is in a mask. He obviously isn’t going to take the audience hostage, so if her priority is protecting innocents then raising the alarm immediately (or in fact earlier would’ve been her best bet. Yes that’d probably mean he’d have escaped but unlike with say Peter’s origin, getting him the Hell out of there would’ve reduced the immediate threat to the civilians present.

And on top of that if she figures he’s targeting her because she was a witness to his crime then by alerting everyone to his actions she’d have removed his need (at least for the moment) of sticking around to eliminate her, thus getting him away from the audience.

If he’s leaving anyway, MJ could also just grab her phone and put a call in to Peter, her super hero chums or the police and get them on the case immediately. If she was really so determined to go after this guy herself she still could but would’ve had a back up just in case he escapes or kills her. If she fails then she’s insured someone will still pursue him.

And as I copiously detailed in parts 19-22, MJ is not a super hero (and she knows that). She has no idea what this guy’s skills, weapons or powers might be, nor does she know what resources or assistance will be nearby to enable her to survive or subdue him. This isn’t like an armed cop, a martial artist or a super powered person going after a regular crook. She really doesn’t know what she is in for. Even if he is just a normal man, he clearly has a height and weight advantage over her, is obviously willing and capable of chocking a man to death and is armed. MJ meanwhile has little self-defence training, no weapons and hasn’t got the weight or muscle capable of taking him on if she’s backed into a corner. And she’s pursuing him back stage where presumably there is a fair chance of encountering many corners!

I understand that she doesn’t want to endanger innocent people, but there is no point in risking her life there is a much more practical and likely to succeed option available to her. Live to fight another day and all that. Yes the guy might hurt people during or after his escape but that’s a lesser evil vs. going after him herself when she is very unlikely to subdue him, far more likely to die and then the guy will get away without her having passed on any valuable intel on him to someone more qualified to pursue him.

Also once she sees the guy leaving she could just tell everyone the situation and ask the audience to stay put.

Basically if raises the alarm right there on stage and/or calls Peter or the authorities she is over all putting less people in danger and increasing the chances of the guy being apprehended in the long run. But no, instead she is going to gamble on the far slimmer odds that she can capture the guy.

Not to mention, why would the guy even give a shit that MJ saw him? Why would MJ give a shit that she is a witness to his crime? He is wearing a mask! She couldn’t identify him even if she went to the police. It is literally part of the reason her goddam boyfriend wears a mask!

And by the way, are there no security cameras backstage? Wouldn’t MJ consider that or Oni himself?

McKnight apologises to Reilly (so not that much of a jerk I guess) as MJ pursues Oni (barefooted) backstage. As she does this she rehearses what she will say to Peter in her head. This entails telling him that she had to get away from the killer. As she is thinking about this the body of Oni’s victim is discovered. Backstage she comes face to face with Oni who refers to her by name.

Yay. MJ deliberately planning on lying to Peter again. It’s so awesome that Williams understands why this isn’t a really bad idea for the reasons I pointed out in part 17.

By the way, I suspect Oni knows MJ personally rather than just recognizing her work.

I’m actually going to leave it there for now as the next part of the story has a shitton to unpack.

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[tessatechaitea]

Cerebus #11 (1979)

The only weapon you need to provoke a police officer to violence is scorn.

Sorry! The above caption had nothing to do with The Cockroach's first appearance in Cerebus and everything to do with how the Omaha Police arrested peaceful protesters by claiming that they're purpose was to "attack and/or provoke police officers to violence." Also, you can tell they're already spinning and lying by adding the "and/or" so they can imply that the protesters are planning on attacking police. And, well, even if they weren't (and they did say "or"!), their other main plan was to provoke them. But of course everybody whose ability to perceive reality isn't clouded by their incessant need to defend police no matter what understands that police will abuse their power at the drop of an eye roll. They believe any slight disrespect is an excuse for a violent rebuttal. They force physical violence on people whom they have no reason to arrest simply so the person can struggle against the assault, as any normal person would do, and then claim resisting. Police should be confronted by scorn and disrespect at every turn. Only when they learn not to instantly resort to violence and threats will they deserve to not be. Welcome to my comic book and/or police review blog! Deni's "A Note from the Publisher" continues on a theme that I hadn't noticed until just now: every new issue of Cerebus now seems to be a landmark issue! It's an interesting self-promotion take that I have to admit I'd never thought of trying. "Every new Eee! Tess Ate Chai Tea review is a landmark review!" You know what else is a landmark? Places & Predators, my Cribbage-based Roller Playing Game! You don't even really need any friends to play it. Just read it like a book and enjoy it! Or play it like a Fighting Fantasy Adventure Book! Use some online Cribbage app! Figure out how to use the crib in ways the online app definitely won't let you! Oh, the reason this is a landmark issue is because more letters came in than normal! It's a hit! Deni also reveals that she'll be making the Cerebus plush toys that were advertised in previous issues and at half the price! So kudos for stealing that job from the person who originally made them! It probably wasn't anything so dramatic but what fun is going through your life defaulting to the best, most optimistic possibility in every given situation? Have some fun! Act paranoid! Purposefully misunderstand your father and scream in his face! Kick a dog! Sorry! I got carried away! I would never kick a dog unless it was attacking me. But even then, I'd be wishing I was kicking the owner who let it go off leash. The dog doesn't deserve my epic self defense tactics in its soft face. But the owner certainly does!

The basics on the origin of The Cockroach.

I didn't realize Dave came up with The Cockroach because it was gross and disgusting. I just thought it was a more clever version of a bat, keeping to the shadows, hiding, surviving, a constant annoyance to poor people. In any case, The Cockroach is the greatest parody of The Batman, hands down. Because The Batman has become such a parody of himself time and time again, you just need an absolutely Batshit insane version of him. I don't do segues so Cerebus has come to Beduin to sell the Black Blossom Lotus. Just look at all the continuity Dave Sim is giving his readers! I wonder how many comic book fans would list "continuity" as their number one favorite thing about comic books? Like, are there people who would list that above great writing or terrific art? Judging by how terrible a lot of mainstream comic books are and how rabid many of the fans, I'd suspect it was a fairly high number. Maybe 65 out of 100, Bob. Change that card! The Merchant Cerebus deals with is a kook who might just have a super secret identity. It's weird to think of the Roach as being capable of actually living an independent life! I suppose he's just barely hanging onto his sanity at this point (and, of course, only during the day). But then he comes into the mystical aura of strangeness that aardvarks apparently exude out of their buttholes and he just loses it completely. He becomes less a merchant slash superhero and more a superhero slash zombie cosplayer. Also he becomes one of the greatest characters ever created! There are like four of them in the entirety of Cerebus! The exclamation point is because I think that's an incredibly high number and not because I think it's an incredibly low number. Most comic book's protagonists never quite make it to the greatest ever! Plus I'd probably give Cerebus more than four but a lot of them are just really good parodies, satires, and slightly-off representations of characters and people who already existed. The merchant buys the Black Blossom Lotus from Cerebus for 100 gold pieces and then promptly drops it out of the window and into the Feld River.

Not only does Dave Sim come up with a bunch of memorable plots across three hundred issues, he also comes up with a lot of good Dungeons & Dragons campaign ideas.

The Merchant pays Cerebus a sack of gold and gets ready for bed as Cerebus begins to leave. Before Cerebus can even exit the hallway outside the merchant's bedroom door, Cerebus begins to hear loud ranting coming from the other side. It's a lot of hissing and threats of murder. Against his better judgment, Cerebus decides to see what's happening and gets his first look at the guy who will be a huge headache to him for the next two hundred issues or so.

One thing I like about Dave Sim is how honest he is when recounting where he came up with or stole his ideas. He gives plenty of credit for the Cockroach and his hissing to Marshall Rogers and Jules Feiffer. It's admirable because a lot of people would just figure, "It might make me look less of an artist and who's going to know anyway?!"

Just a few days ago, my old elementary school friend who was blown up in Iraq and then became a comedian playing to Christians and patriots (which I mention so you'll understand how, as a wounded veteran, he'll never be criticized by his audience and he'll never really grow as a comedian) posted a Tik Tok on Facebook that was just a film of a television set capturing the "Masked Debate" bit on Last Week Tonight with John Oliver. The clip only shows all the clips of news readers saying "masked debate" and none of Oliver's or the show's set-up. He then watermarked it with his Tik Tok name. Now all of those naive followers who can only seem to reply to his posts with the laugh/cry emoji probably think he wrote it. Better yet, they're probably mostly Trump followers who would never admit to finding that libjerk Oliver or his show funny. What's even better is that the Tik Tok has some quote along top that's watermarked with somebody else's Tik Tok name! So it looks like Bob doubly stole the bit. Man, I wish I'd joined the army and gotten blown up and then found Christ and developed an audience of uncritical naive yahoos who would wildly applaud everything I wrote! Why didn't I join the army?! Oh, that's right. Because I believed I had a future right out of high school. Well, I guess Bob is having the last laugh now! Cerebus follows Cockroach across the rooftops to find out what's going on. He eventually witnesses the Cockroach confront a man in an alley, accuse him of killing his parents, knock him out, and steal his gold. The gold part of the night helps Cerebus to ignore all of the other confusing stuff. The Cockroach doesn't gloat for long. He's off to find another victim! Cerebus witnesses him mug another guy whom he also accuses of killing his parents. He also admits to doing this for thirty years. So now Cerebus thinks the guy is crazy but also crazy rich. At the end of the night, the Cockroach returns home and drops the gold purses into a secret panel in the wall. He falls asleep, wakes up, and, when he sees Cerebus, acts as if Cerebus were just leaving. So Cerebus realizes that the merchant doesn't have any idea what the Cockroach is doing. Which means Cerebus is going to recover those gold purses before the Cockroach comes back! At the moment, Cerebus doesn't realize that he's going to be finding thirty years worth of gold purses in the merchant's walls. Can you imagine how boring the last two hundred and eighty-nine issues of Cerebus would have been if Cerebus managed to steal all of the Roach's gold?! I'm sure some of you are thinking, "It wouldn't have been any worse than the last hundred issues we did get!" Also, can you imagine how fat Cerebus would have gotten drinking tons of ale and eating loads of rich foods? I'm laughing so much just trying to picture it! Ha ha!

Eight feet of gold would make Cerebus fatter than a domesticated raccoon!

In the end, Cerebus only makes it away with three sacks of gold. But in the process, he manages to completely screw up the Roach/Merchant equilibrium that's lasted for thirty years. In trying to exploit the man's mental illness so that he'd help Cerebus move the gold, Cerebus drags the Roach personality into the daylight. From here on out, the Roach will simply be a pawn of others, susceptible to almost any second-rate demagogue (although most of the people who subsequently control the Roach are of the first rate variety). The Aardvark Comment section was two pages this issue and had this letter that I don't think was being sarcastic?

I guess I also wouldn't necessarily consider a chainmail bikini as "a disgusting costume." He's probably thinking about Power Girl.

Also, and I admit it might have been a joke, but Dave Sim reveals that Ronald Reagan is Cerebus' father. That, um, makes sense! Cerebus #11 Rating: A. I almost gave it a B+ for variety but then I remembered I just read the first appearance of the Roach. I also forgot that my ratings don't actually mean anything.

[buzzdixonwriter]

My Five Most Influential

Someone asked:   Who are the most influential writers in your life?

Good question.

The broad answer is that one gets influenced many different ways by many different sources.  I enjoy poetry and song lyrics because they find ways of conveying the strongest emotional content in the most concise manner, music brings a sense of dramatic rhythm and fulfillment, the visual arts suggest ways of subtly adding many insights to a single strong idea, etc., etc., and of course, etc. (and that is also an example of a creative influence in my work).

But…to boil it down to those whom I most consciously made an effort to emulate, we find ourselves facing five creators that primed the pump.

This is not to say others whom I began following after them didn’t wield a lot of influence (thanx, Ernie, Bert, Jack, Bob, and Hank!) but these are the foundation of everything I’ve done in my career.

(And to those who notice a lack of diversity, I know, I know…but to be honest I have to acknowledge the truth, and the truth is for whatever reason, by chance or by choice, by fate or by fortune, these five dominated my sensibilities.  I trust that I’ve grown and expanded my horizons since then, but they’re the hand I got dealt.)

. . . 

Carl Barks

I loved ducks as a kid and my grandmother and aunt would always bring me a passel of duck-related comics when they came to visit.

There were some Daffy Duck comics mixed in there but while I know I looked at and enjoyed them, none of them stick in my mind like the Donald Duck and Uncle Scrooge stories of Carl Barks.

Typically my grandmother would read these comics to me and I’d imprint the dialog and captions in my brain, replaying them as I looked at the pictures over and over again.

Barks never wrote down to his audience, and his stories covered a vast array of genres, everything from straight domestic comedy to oddball adventures to screwy crime stories.

Donald and his nephews encountered dinosaurs more than once (another big favorite of mine), and Uncle Scrooge setting out to explore the asteroid belt in order to find a new home for his fabulous money bin was another tale I loved literally to pieces, but A Christmas For Shacktown remains my all time favorite graphic novel.

I’ll concede there are better graphic novels, but none of them warm my heart the way that Christmas story does.

Barks showed it’s possible to combine heart (not to be confused with sentimentality or =yuch!= schmaltz), vivid characters, and strong, intricate narrative.  His plots where typically filled with unexpected twists and turns but his characters were always deeply involved in them, not just along for the ride.

He’s one of the greatest storytellers in the 20th century, and his work remains timeless enough to last for several centuries to come.

. . . 

Ray Bradbury

The first Ray Bradbury story I remember encountering was “Switch On The Night” in its 1955 edition, read to my kindergarten class towards the end of the school year.

This would place the event sometime in the spring of 1959.

“Switch On The Night” captivated me because it was the first story I’d ever heard that showed what could be seen in the dark that couldn’t be seen in the day.

Even as a child, it made me realize the night wasn’t scary, but contained wonders and insights we miss in the harsh glare of day.

I don’t recall if the kindergarten teacher told us the name of the author, and if she did it didn’t stick, but boy howdy, the story sure did!  Did it open the doors of the night for me, or was I already inclined to be a night person and it simply confirmed that as a valid identity?

I dunno, but I’m typing this right now at 12:24am.

And the thoughts Bradbury planted in little Buzzy boy’s brain stayed and grew and flowered, as you can read in my poem, “The Magic Hours Of The Night”.

The next time I encountered Ray Bradbury’s writing was in grammar school, certainly no later than junior high.  I was already interested in science fiction by that point, and had read “The Pedestrian” in one of my school English books (we weren’t taught the story in class; the teacher skipped over it for whatever reason but I read it anyway then re-read it and read it again and again).

Anthony Boucher’s ubiquitous 2-volume A Treasury Of Great Science Fiction was in my grammar school library and in it was Bradbury’s “Pillar Of Fire” (which I would later learn was one of his alternate Martian Chronicles and a crossover with Fahrenheit 451) and in that story he offered up a veritable laundry list of outré and outlandish fiction to be tracked down and read, authors to dig up and devour.

Oh, man, I was hooked.

So of course I began looking for all the stories and writers Bradbury listed in his short story but I also began looking for Bradbury’s own work and before you could say, “Mom, can I get a subscription to the Science Fiction Book Club?” I’d read The Golden Apples Of The Sun and A Medicine For Melancholy and R is For Rocket never once dreaming that at some point in the future the roadmap Ray plopped down in my lap would eventually lead to us being co-workers (separate projects, but the same studio at the same time) and friends.

There is a beautiful yet deceptive simplicity to Ray’s work, and even though he wrote his own book on writing (The Zen Of Writing) that has lots of good insights and professional tricks & tips, he himself wasn’t able to explain how he did it.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a good Ray Bradbury parody.

I’ve seen parodies that clearly are intended to evoke Ray Bradbury, but only in the same way a clumsy older relative might evoke Michael Jackson with a spasmodic movement one vaguely recognizes as a failed attempt at a moonwalk.

But, lordie, don’t think we didn’t try to emulate him, and while none of us fanboys ever came close, I think a lot of us did learn that less is more, that the right word carries more impact than a dozen paragraphs, and that there’s magic in even the most ordinary of things.

And of course I discovered the film and TV adaptations of his work, and in discovering them I also discovered that there are some things that just can’t be translated from one media to another, and that the light, effortless appeal of Ray’s work on the page (paper or pixel) can at best be recaptured with a good audio book reader but even the best dramatic adaptions -- even those by Ray himself -- are cold dead iron butterflies compared to the light and lively creatures flying about.

So eventually I stopped trying to write like him, and instead picked up the valuable lessons of mood and emotion making an impact on a story even if the plot didn’t make much logical sense.

Decades later I would become a fan of opera, and would learn the philosophy of all opera lovers:  Opera doesn’t have to make logical sense, it just has to make emotional sense.

Ray Bradbury, opera meister.

. . . 

H.P. Lovecraft

As noted above, Bradbury’s “Pillar Of Fire” tipped me to numerous other writers, first and foremost of which turned out to be Howard Phillips Lovecraft.

Okay, before we get any further into this, let’s acknowledge the woolly mammoth in the room:  H.P. Lovecraft was a colossal asshat racist.

He was a lot of other terrible things, too, but racist is far and ahead of the rest of the pack.

It’s a disillusioning thing to find people one admired as a youngster or a teen later prove to have not just quirks and eccentricities and personal flaws, but genuinely destructive, harmful, and offensive characters.

I’ve posted on that before, too.

How I wish it were possible to retroactively scale back that hurtfulness, to make them more empathetic, less egregiously offensive (in the military sense of the word), but that ain’t so.

We have to acknowledge evil when we see it, and we have to call it out, and we have to shun it.

Which is hard when one of its practitioners provides a major influence in our creative lives.

Here’s what I liked about Lovecraft as a kid:  He was the complete opposite of Ray Bradbury.

Bradbury’s instinctive genius was in finding the right word, the simple word that conveyed great impact on the story, drawing the reader into the most fantastic situations by making them seem more familiar on a visceral level.

Lovecraft achieved the exact opposite effect by finding the most arcane, bedizened, baroque, florid, grandiloquent, overwrought, rococo verbiage possible and slapping the reader repeatedly in the face with it.

If Bradbury made the unreal real, Lovecraft made the weird even more weirder.

And let’s give this devil his due:  The Strange Case Of Charles Dexter Ward and The Dunwich Horror are two masterpieces of horror and serve as the bridge between Edgar Allen Poe and Stephen King, not to mention his creation of Cthulhu and other ancient entities existing beyond the ken of human knowledge…

…oh, wait, that’s where the story simultaneously gets messy yet provides a convenient escape hatch for fans.

While Lovecraft created Cthulhu, he did not create the Cthulhu Mythos.

That was primarily the invention August Derleth, a writer / editor / agent and H.P. Lovecraft’s #1 fanboy.

Lovecraft had some loosely related ideas in his stories and several themes he revisited repeatedly (in addition to racism).

He also had a circle of fellow writers -- including such heavy hitters as Robert “Psycho” Bloch and Robert E. “Conan” Howard -- who picked up on his ideas and, as way of a tribute, incorporated them in some of their stories.

Derleth took all this and Lovecraft’s unfinished manuscripts and short ideas he jotted down and turned it into a whole post-mortem industry, linking all of Lovecraft and other writers’ tales.

And he did a damn fine job of it, too.

So much so that the Cthulhu Mythos has taken on a life of its own, and pretty much anybody can play in that cosmic sandbox now (including Big Steve King and a ton of Japanese anime) and so Lovecraft’s works have an enormous influence on pop culture…

,,,but Howard hizzowndamsef can be -- and is -- cancelled.

Derleth and various biographers downplayed Lovecraft’s virulent racism for decades, and I don’t think Ray Bradbury was ever aware of the scope and tenor of Lovecraft’s bigotry when he name checked him in “Pillar Of Fire” and other stories.

In a similar vein Bradbury didn’t know -- because thanks again to overly protective literary executors, nobody knew -- just how big a racist asshat Walt Whitman was, either.  It is one thing to call shenanigans on a Bill Cosby or a Harvey Weinstein or a Donald Trump because their egregious behaviors were noted long before they were held accountable, but quite another to do so on a creator who died while hiding their most awful behavior from thousands if not millions of fans who felt inspired and uplifted by their work.

It’s one thing to call out a contemporary bigot and not support them by not buying their work, it’s quite another when their bigotry has been shielded from view and fair minded, decent people have used their work to draw inspiration into their own creativity.

Of course, I had no way of knowing all this when I was in junior high and seriously began tracking down Lovecraft’s work.  

He possessed a flair of the horrific and unearthly that to this day is hard to match (but easier to parody).  He was a tremendous influence on my early writing (truth be told, I zigzagged between Bradbury’s stark simplicity and Lovecraft’s overarching verbosity, giving my early oeuvre a rather schizophrenic style) and the ideas he sparked still reverberate to this day.

If only he hadn’t been such a giant %#@&ing asshat racist …

. . . 

Harlan Ellison

In a way, I’m glad neither Harlan nor his widow Susan are alive to read this.

I cherished Harlan as a friend and greatly admired his qualities as a writer.

But damn, by his own admission he should have been thrown in prison for aggravated assault on numerous occasions (he was courts martialed three times while in the Army).

We’re not talking about arguments that spiraled out of control until a few wild punches were thrown, we’re talking about Harlan by his own admission stalking and ambushing people, knocking them unconscious or causing grievous bodily harm.

We’re talking about sexual abuse and humiliation.

We’re talking about incidents he admitted to which if true put people in life threatening situations.

And yet ironically, in a certain sense Harlan (a bona fide Army Ranger, BTW) was like the U.S. Marine Corps:  You’d never have a greater friend or a worse enemy.

I became dimly aware of Harlan in the late 1960s as I started diving deeper into literary sci-fi, transitioning from monster kid fandom to digests and paperbacks.  Harlan first caught my attention with his macho prose (years later a similar style also drew me to Charles Bukowski) in stories like “Along the Scenic Route” (a.k.a. “Dogfight on 101”) in which Los Angelinos engaged in Mad Max motor mayhem but soon it became apparent the macho posturing was just a patina, that the heart and soul of much of the work reflected great sensitivity and often profound melancholy (ditto Bukowski).

Harlan was a fighter, and again by his own admission, he acknowledged in his later years that he was not a fighter because his cause was just, but rather sought out just causes because he knew he would be fighting regardless of his position, yet possessed a strong enough moral compass to point himself in the direction of a worthy enemy…

…most of the time.

He hurt and offended a large number of innocent and some not-so-innocent-but-certainly-not-evil people.

He also helped and encouraged a large number of others, people who had no idea who he was, people who had no way of adequately reciprocating his kindness and generosity.

He defended a lot of defenseless people.

He also mistakenly defended a lot of terrible people.

If someone tells me Harlan was a monster, I’ll agree:  Monstre sacré.

What made his writing sacred was that no matter how outlandish the situation, Harlan dredged up from the depths emotions so strong as to be frightening in their depiction.

Skilled enough not to lose sight of humanity, outlandish enough to conjure up ideas and emotions most people would shy away from, Harlan hit adolescent Buzzy boy like an incendiary grenade.

Unlike my first three literary influences, Harlan was and remained active in the fannish circles where I was circulating at the time.  He regularly wrote letters and columns for various fanzines, including a few I subscribed to.

In a literary sense he stood, naked and unashamed, in full view of the world, and that willingness to go beyond mundane sensibilities is what made his work so compelling.

He certainly fired me up as an adolescent writer, and proved an amalgam of Bradbury and Lovecraft that got my creative juices flowing in a coherent direction.

I don’t think I ever consciously tried to imitate him in my writing, but I sure learned from him, both in how to charge a story with emotion and how to fight for what’s right regardless of the blow back.

I loved him as a friend.

But, damn, Harlan…you could act so ugly...

. . .

H. Allen Smith

Who?

Most of you have never heard of H. Allen Smith, and that’s a damn shame.

I’d never heard of him either until I stumbled across a coverless remaindered copy of Poor H. Allen Smith’s Almanac in a Dollar General Store bin in Tennessee in the late 1960s (it was a memorable shopping expedition:  I also purchased Thomas Heggen’s Mister Roberts and Let’s Kill Uncle by Rohan O'Grady [pen name of June Margaret O'Grady Skinner]).

Reading Smith’s editorial comments (in addition to his own essays and fiction he edited numerous humor anthologies) I realized I’d found a kindred soul.

Smith had a very conversational tone as a writer; his prose seemed off the cuff and unstructured, but he slyly used that style to hide the very peculiar (and often perverse) path he led readers down.

He sounded / read like a garrulous guy at the bar, one with a huge number of charming, witty (and delightfully inebriated) friends in addition to his own bottomless well of tall tales, pointed observations, and rude jokes.

Of all the writers mentioned above, that style is the one I most consciously tried to emulate, and one I seem to have been able to find my own voice in (several people have told me I write the same way I talk, a rarity among writers).

Smith was hilarious whether wearing an editor’s visor or a freelancer’s fool’s cap.  If you know who H. L. Mencken was, think of Smith as a benign, better tempered version of that infamous curmudgeon (and if you don’t know, hie thee hence to Google and find out).

Compared to my other four influences, Smith didn’t need to add the fantastic to his fiction:  The real world was weird and wacky and whimsical enough.

A newspaper man turned best selling author, Smith became among the most popular humorists of the 1940s-50s-60s…

…and then he died and everybody forgot him.

Part of the reason they forgot is that he wrote about things that no longer seem relevant (TV cowboys of the early television era, f’r instance, in Mr. Zip) or are today looked upon askance (and with justifiable reason; the ethnic humor in many of his anthologies may not have been intended as mean spirited, but it sure doesn’t read as a celebration of other cultures, viz his succinct account of an argument following a traffic accident between two native Honolulu cabbies rendered in pidgin:  “Wassamatta you?”  “’Wassmatta me’?!?!?  Wassamatta you ‘Wassamatta me’?  You wassamatta!”).

I’m sure I picked up a great many faults from Smith, but Smith also had the virtue of being willing and able to learn and to make an effort to be a better person today than he was yesterday, and better still tomorrow.

I’ve certainly tried applying that to my life.

Smith’s style was also invoked -- consciously or not -- by other writers and editors, notably Richard E. Geis, the editor of the legendary sci-fi semi-prozone, Science Fiction Review (among other titles).  Smith died before I could meet him, but while I never met Dick Geis face to face we were pen pals for over 40 years.

Geis certainly sharpened specific aspects of my writing style, but the real underlying structure came from H. Allen Smith.

Smith’s work is hard to find today (in no small part because whenever I encounter one in the wild I snap it up) but I urge you to give him a try.

Just brace yourself for things we might consider incorrect today.

. . . 

So there’s my top five. 

With the exception of Carl Barks and Ray Bradbury, none of them are without serious flaw or blemish (though Smith seems like a decent enough sort despite his fondness for X-rated and ethnic humor).

In my defense as an impressionable child / teen, I was not aware of these flaws and blemishes when I first encountered their writing (primarily because in many cases efforts were made to hide or downplay those aspects).

The positive things I gleaned from them are not negated by the negative personal information that came out later.

I can, for the most part re the more problematic of them, appreciate their work while not endorsing their behavior.

Ellison can only be described in extremes, but his fire and passion -- when directed in a positive direction -- served as a torch to light new paths (his two original anthologies, Dangerous Visions and Again, Dangerous Visions, pretty much blew the doors off old school sci-fi and belatedly dragged the genre kicking and screaming into the 20th century).

Lovecraft I can effectively ignore while finding entertainment value in the Cthulhu Mythos.

But I must acknowledge this isn’t the same for everyone.

For example, as innocuous as I find H. Allen Smith, if a woman or a member of a minority group said, “I found this in particular to be offensive” I’d probably have to say, yeah, you’re right.

But I can still admire the way he did it, even if I can no longer fully support what he did.

. . . 

By the time I reached high school, I’d acquired enough savvy to regard to literary finds a bit more dispassionately, appreciating what they did without trying to literally absorb it into my own writing.

I discovered for myself the Beat generation of writers and poets, the underground cartoonists of the late 60s and 70s, Ken Kesey, Joseph Heller, Philip K. Dick, Ursula K. LeGuin, and a host of others, some already alluded to.

Some, such as the Beats and Bukowski, I could enjoy for their warts and all honest self-reflection.

Yes, they were terrible people, but they knew they were terrible people, and they also knew there had to be something better, and while they may never have found the nirvana they sought, they at least sent back accurate reports of where they were in their journeys of exploration.

By my late teens, I’d become aware enough of human foibles and weaknesses -- every human’s foibles and weaknesses, including my own -- to be very, very cautious in regarding an individual as admirable.

While I will never accept creativity as an excuse for bad behavior, if a creator is honest enough and self-introspective enough to recognize and acknowledge their own failings, it goes a long way towards my being willing to enjoy their work without feeling I’m endorsing them as individuals.

It’s not my place to pass judgment or exoneration on others bad behavior.

It is my place to see that I don’t emulate others’ bad behavior.

Every creator is connected to their art, even if it’s by-the-numbers for-hire hack work.

Every creator puts something of themselves into the final product.

And every member of the audience must decide for themselves if that renders the final product too toxic to be enjoyed. 

    © Buzz Dixon

[a-simple-imagine]

Nothing But Co-Stars

Requested by anonymous: I was hoping to get a Gemma Chan story where she and reader worked on captain Marvel together and are high key in love and like the media finds out or something!

Pairing: Gemma Chan x fem!reader

Words: 1937

A/N - 2 posts in one day?? AND I have 3 more coming. This is so unlike me. I did say I would do all my requests before endgame which I’m seeing tomorrow. Since I’ve been avoiding spoilers it’s given me a lot of time to write. I have 5 open spots for requests so throw them at me. 

I was gonna make this fluffy but you know whats better than fluff? angst. I left it on a cliff hanger too

You glance anxiously towards your partner in this interview. You were looking for an answer; some indication of whether she wanted to talk about it or just move on. The woman just smiles softly and you turn back to the interviewer. You can answer a simple question. Nothing suspicious about that.

"Yeah, we become pretty close while working on the set together- as did all the cast."

"I agree." Gemma nods. "I think working on any show or movie you kind of become like a little family for a while. So I've been spending a lot of time with Y/N."

"You two were spotted out for dinner together quite a few times." The interviewer adds.

"Oh yeah. What can I say she makes a great dinner date." You insist with a soft chuckle.

"Y/N actually was late to our last dinner date," Gemma added.

"Okay, I actually have an excuse for that."

"Which is?"

"It's nothing major, I just had a really long day. I had just finished up some press with Brie and it ran a little later than expected. And these two girls run up to us asking for pictures. So I'm taking pictures of them with Brie because y'know she's Captain Marvel. I was surprised when they asked for one with me, it made me feel like a star. Anyway, this girl is standing next to me. I have one arm around her and she just whispers in my ear, will you strangle me?"

"What?" The interviewer seemed surprised but amused.

"Yeah, I was like so confused and Brie is just laughing next to me. I sadly had to tell her that I would not choke her but we were both shook."

"You never told me that."

You shrug casually, glancing in your co-star's direction. "Never needed to. I didn't think it was relevant, I wasn't that late to dinner."

The interview continues normally. You talk about the film. Answered some vaguely personal questions. And when it was over, you retreated to your black SUV with the rest of your team. Surprised when Gemma slips into the seat beside you a few moments later.

"Do you not have your own car?"

"Thought we may as well share." She insisted, hand settling on your thigh. You smile warmly at her.

"I was gonna head back and go for a run but how about we grab lunch instead?"

She nodded a little. You had your driver/security guard take a detour to a small cafe downtown. This thing with Gemma had been going on for a while now but letting the world know wasn't part of the plan yet. So it requires a lot of sneaking around. You share lunch at this small french style cafe. You chat about anything everything. It was pleasant. It was undisturbed. And for just a moment you forget that for some messed up reason you're more than just two people having lunch. Brushes of hands. Longing glances. As you leave, your hands are intertwined. A peck on the cheek before you slip into you car and she gets in the one behind. You go your separate ways after that like nothing happened. You had to be in a different places tomorrow.

"We have a problem," your assistant announces as your speeding down the road. Tapping away on her phone beside you. You're preoccupied, recording the current song on the radio to post to your Instagram story.

"Have you seen TMZ?"

You don't register the question right away but when you do you shrug. "Who got a DUI now?"

"I don't know. I'm more worried about you," you glance at her briefly before looking out the window. Cars pass by. An old woman walks her dog. A young man skateboards down the street with what looks like an ice pop. "Can we get ice cream on the way home?"

"What are you five years old?" Your drive asks. His tone is playful.

"A five year old who also happens to be your boss." You flash a tight-lipped smile in your driver's direction. Continuing to scroll through your Instagram feed. Completely ignoring most of the posts just minding your own business. Your team chatted around you. You could hear what they were saying but you just weren't registering any of it.

"Y/N. You were planning to keep your blossoming relationship with Miss. Chan a secret were you not?"

"For now." You respond with a small nod. "A lot of people date their costars so I just wanna make sure there's something here and it's not just because we've been working together. I don't want this to be promo."

"TMZ posted about you."

A split second of panic. "About the interview? That was fast."

"No about you two." She held her phone up for you. Your Y/E/C eyes narrow in on the English actress and yourself. Your lips pressed to her cheek. Hands intertwined.

'Y/N Y/L/N cosies up with co-star Gemma Chan during lunch date'

Uncreative. Straight to the point. Definitely TMZs style. But it was just one news outlet. No big deal. It's not like they caught you doing anything bad. You open Twitter and check your official mentions. More outlets had taken the opportunity to write about it. You're not a massive star but enough to peak the interest of the media. Enough for an otherwise slow news day. Fuck. It had been a brief laps in judgment. Hardly anyone was around. You decide to let the news linger for now. No need to confirm or deny. You open Instagram and take a selfie. No caption. Just a time filter. You get the ice cream you wanted. Deciding upon Mint chocolate chip. You also put that on your Instagram story. People who don't like mint choc are tasteless as a caption. 3 posts were enough to satisfy what fans you had. It makes you seem active and like you're engaging with your fans when you've hardly put in any effort. You return to your moderate size apartment. It overlooks the city. It looks beautiful at night. Your team leaves you alone not too long after that. You go for a jog with your dog. It's peaceful. There's safety in numbers. On returning, you take a shower to which you perform Beyoncé's greatest hits before retiring to your living room. The word room used loosely because your apartment is open floor. You place your shark mug - the body of a great white, fins and all made up the mug and the tail made up the handle - of hot chocolate atop a low glass coffee table alongside your iPad. You take up space between the table which is sat on a plush carpet and the couch which rests on laminate. You switch on the tv more so for background noise than anything else. Deciding to watch The Good Wife. You've been binge-watching it lately. It's good. And then you call her. A few rings pass by and she picks up. Her face swimming into view. You smile at her and she returns it.

"We need to talk," you say quietly. Picking up your mug of hot chocolate; for a moment you're amused by its quirkiness. You blow gently on the surface. Your attention on the drama unfolding on screen.

"You saw?"

"I did." You reply, daring to take a sip. It was really hot. Burns the end of your tongue but you can tell it's gonna taste great. You keep the mug in your hands allowing the heat to transfer to your skin.

"What are you watching?" She wonders clearly noticing your lack of attention.

"The good wife." You answer, turning back to her. "So, what do we do?"

"What do you want to do?"

You shrug. It's not a question you should decide on your own and so you had left it until now to truly think about. "Maybe it's time to just tell everyone."

Her expression is unreadable and so you divert back to Alicia as she battles yet another court case. She seems to be winning.

"Really?" By her tone, you can tell she's not entirely on board with the idea. But she's also not trying to come off as malicious or embarrassed. Just cautious. Being in the public eye could be great but it was also unforgiving. It was progressive but unprogressive. For every person who loved you, there were ten more lining up to tell you you're a piece of shit. Talentless. Your words were always being twisted. Every step of your life became strategic. To some extent, you did whatever you wanted but you had a publicist that kept you from doing anything stupid. Usually, she would be on the phone right now. Maybe she was. You had left your phone in the kitchen on silent for a reason.

"I just don't think Its best right now,"

"For us?" You question as your stare down the iPad screen. "Or to be telling everyone?"

The hesitation is worrying but you don't question it. You decide not to make a big deal out of it.

"Telling everyone." She eventually answers. She's not looking at you and you wonder where her attention lies.

"Why?" You ask immediately. Brow cocked in curiosity.

"I just... don't think it's the right time. "

"Then what do you want to do?" You ask, bringing your shark mug to your lips and taking a large sip. It warmed your entire body.

"I don't know," She answers. "can't we ignore it?"

"Sure," You nod, returning your gaze to the tv. "but people are still gonna think we're together so why not just tell them?"

"Y/N, please." Your disappointed in her soft words but you had been expecting them.

"I'm gonna talk to my publicist, see what we can do." You explain.

"Thank you,"

"I kinda want to tell everyone though." You mumble casually. More to yourself than her. She didn't seem like she was going to change her mind any time soon. "What does your publicist say?"

"I told her I wanted to ignore it. See what happens."

"Oh." You nod a little. "Okay then."

"How was your run?"

You glance back to her. Taking in a little more of your drink. She was changing the conversation so I guess that was the end of that. "It was good."

A silence comes between both of you. It's a little awkward but that's because you're a little disheartened. The circumstances had changed. Everyone had already caught a glimpse so why does she still want to hide? You can't wrap your head around it. What was she so scared of. You watch her through the screen. Listening to the TV show in the background.

"I'm gonna go." You eventually say. "I'll call you when I'm done with press tomorrow."

"Oh- yeah, okay." She offers you an unsure smile.

"I'll see you later Gemma,"

"Wait Y/N, I-" you cut off the feed before she can finish her sentence. You down the contents of your mug before raising to your feet. You exchange your mug with the phone in the kitchen and retire to the couch. Your pup comes along and lies down next you. Head falling to rest in your lap. You hand brushes through its soft fur. You unlock your phone and finally return the missed call.

"So what's the plan?"

"Tell me what you want?"

With an unfocused gaze on the screen, you sigh. "She wants to ignore it."

"I didn't ask what she wants, I don't work for her. What do you want to do?"

You hesitate for a moment. "I... want everyone to know."

[techhooter]

Hairstyle trends from Hollywood celebrities to inspire

In case you're hoping to try something a bit different with your tresses, look to Victoria's Secret model Adriana Lima or Game of Thrones star Sophie Turner. They are two altogether different looks, yet simple to oversee in the event that you need to explore different avenues regarding something more than simply your normal blowdry or centre-part. What's more, obviously, Umbrella hit maker Rihanna shows us how the full periphery should be finished. Hollywood celebrities have taken over Instagram with hairstyle trends and cosmetics looks to inspire us for our next event. Taking general direction to the late 90s and mid 2000s, we can't get over their advanced interpretation of these key styles. Think old-Hollywood side-parts, muddled high buns and, obviously, the full bangs. Let's have a look on Hairstyle trends from Hollywood celebrities to inspire your look!

Kate Middleton

Kate Middleton, Duchess of Cambridge, can't avoid the goney blond that is trending this summer: She ventured out mid-June with new features (and, clearly, a super-glossy blowout), switching up her signature dark brown for a lighter, warmer, increasingly multidimensional look. : Hairstyle trends

Hilary Duff

Hilary left behind her long layers toward the end of May for certain '70s-style face-farming, focus separated bangs and an arrival to her standard lighter blond. The change comes courtesy of celeb hairstylist Nikki Lee and it looks incredible. she captioned her Instagram showing off the new look.

The side-part

It is back and we are here for it. The center splitting fever is at long last diminishing down and we can see celebrities evaluating distinctive glamorous styles for formal events. Look at Lima directing old world charm and looking drop dead stunning with sharp winged liner. Utilize a flat iron to twist your locks and set with a texturing hairspray for additional volume. : Hairstyle trends

Ariana Grande

It goes without saying it was an enormous year for Grande, from her own life to her record-breaking album. It was additionally a major year for her hairstyle.

Messy high bun

We are sure Jonas Brother's Joe would be intrigued by his entertainer wife Sophie when she stunned for an event. It appears the greatest haircuts right now are intensely affected by the 90s and mid 2000s because messy buns with face-farming ringlets are back in fashion trends. Pair the look with a plum lipstick and gold loops like the star to accomplish a fun yet elegant look. : Hairstyle trends

Emilia Clarke

After seven seasons of recording Game of Thrones—and ya know, the entire fact that Clarke wears a wig to play Daenerys—we figured she'd be the keep going on-screen character on the show to make a major Cersei-style change. Obviously we weren't right, as she initially went platinum in 2017, and afterward in September 2018, settled on a full "Gwyneth and Brad" pixie.

Full bangs

We remember bangs and they are coming back with a bang as well! Genius vocalist Rihanna has been sporting the trend again recently and we love the wonderful way the French-esque style makes our eyes pop out in quite a few different ways.

Sandra Bullock

Hairstyle trends: Bullock book-finished her 2018 with two genuinely enormous films—Ocean's 8 and Bird Box—and two altogether different hairstyles. My life is changing so fast," Bullock told Hoda Kotb on Today when the host remarked how changes in life can be reflected in your hair. "It's funny. I feel like my hair was there to help me hide. I hide behind my hair. When I did cut it, I went, 'Oh, okay, that's me. I can be this person now.' It's all about the hair." Read the full article

[timetravelingheart]

My Side of the Fence Chapter Eighteen: A.M. Imagine

For the next few weeks, everything could not have gone better for Savannah and Auston. The Leafs were playing well, with Auston being near the top of the leaderboard and earning Player of the Month for October, and he was carrying the momentum into November. His off-season training to build up his strength and to improve his shot were working and the entire team was reaping its benefits. Savannah had taken gold at her first two competitions of the season and was preparing for a Christmas show for Stars on Ice with the other Canadian ice skaters who had become some of her dearest friends over the years. Individually, they were both at the top of their game. 

Together, they were the strongest and most comfortable they had ever been. After the night at the bar, they had settled back into a comfortable routine of spending almost every night possible at one another’s places and Savannah was happy to tag along to team events but carefully avoided photos and politely asked all of the photographers at the events to leave her out of them. The other players and their significant others were all aware that Auston and Savannah had something going on, but knew better than to ask for clarification or make any public comments. 

Savannah even attended a few more games, often sitting with Steph and the Marners or with the significant others of the other players, and even occasionally sitting with Auston’s parents when they attended and sat by the Marners. Every time she did sit with his parents, they had nothing but glowing reviews of their time with her. For Savannah’s part, without even noticing it, she was seamlessly making herself a part of all aspects of Auston’s life and he could not be happier. 

And now, he had another home game that she was attending. This time they were playing Edmonton, so she said she was going to be going to the game regardless so she could cheer on Connor as well. Auston felt a mild twinge of jealousy at the thought of her cheering for Connor, especially since Edmonton was her favourite team, but he knew how ridiculous it was. Well, that and both Patty and Morgan told him he was being stupid. 

As Savannah and Stephanie made their way to the rink, they met up with Paul and Bonnie Marner and Brian and Ema Matthews, who were waiting for them. Savannah didn’t realize she would be sitting with the Matthews’ again, but had grown to love their company. They were both so kind and were clearly proud of their son, as they should be. 

“Savannah, it’s so good to see you again!” Ema pulled Savannah into a warm hug and then made room for Brian to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“How are your practices going lately? Auston mentioned that you had a nagging neck pain you were working through,” Brian asked, concerned. Savannah wasn’t sure how she felt about Auston talking to his parents about her. She wondered briefly if they suspected anything. 

“Yeah, but it’s been getting better,” she shrugged. “It’s an old injury that acts up once in a while. We don’t have another competition until late January so it’s been nice to just get my apartment set up for the holidays and go shopping.”

“She’s coming with us next week to pick out Christmas trees for our apartments!” Steph nearly squealed, her love of the holiday evident. “And then we have a tradition of watching terrible Hallmark Christmas movies. This year we’re making Mitch and Auston watch them with us!” The parents laughed, imagining their grown sons moaning and groaning about being forced to watch cookie cutter Christmas movies. 

“Don’t let that boy fool you!” Bonnie laughed. “He might not love the Hallmark ones, but put on Jack Frost and it’s the quietest you’ll ever see him. He even cries at the end.” 

“How did I not know that?” Steph laughed, adding the film to her mental list. “He never wants to watch that one! He always picks Elf or Home Alone instead. Jack Frost is definitely on the list this year!” 

“Will you be going home for the holidays, Savannah?” Brian asked as they walked over to their seats. This time Bonnie and Paul sat in the row above Savannah, Stephanie, Ema, and Brian. Savannah was squished between Ema and Stephanie. 

“I am! I’m really excited because it’s the one time of year that all of my family is actually in the same place,” Savannah couldn’t help but glow at the thought of Christmas in her parent’s large Victorian house filled with her brothers, sisters, their kids, her parents, and her grandfather. “I lived away from home for so many years that sometimes I didn’t spend Christmas with them, so in recent years it’s been a huge priority for me.” She looked down at her phone when she felt the vibrations, receiving a text from Connor’s parents. “Oh, I guess Connor’s parents can see us!” They all looked around for them, waving when they spotted them a few rows down. 

“I didn’t realize you were so close to Connor, Savannah,” Paul leaned forward in his seat. “Was that from you living in Edmonton?”

“No, I actually met him before that through mutual family friends and we shared a technical skating coach for a short time. We’ve been best friends ever since though. I used to watch him skate in Erie all the time, so that’s also how I know Connor Brown.” 

“Did you two make plans to see each other after the game?” Ema asked. “You can both join us for dinner if you’d like. His parents too.”

“Thank you so much for the offer, but Connor and I rarely get to spend any time together, so I think we’re just going to grab dinner together at our favourite diner and hang out. He has a couple of days off so he gets to stay in the area and go home with his parents tonight.”

Before anyone could say anything else, the lights dimmed and the players all made their way to the ice to start the game. 

At the end of the first period, the teams were tied with Auston and Connor each getting a goal. Unfortunately, what Savannah didn’t realize was that when Auston scored, the camera panned to the crowd in search of his parents. As she made her way over to Connor’s parents during intermission, she felt her phone start to vibrate insistently. When she looked down at it, she stopped in her tracks. She already had over twenty notifications from Twitter. What was going on? She tapped open the app and nearly dropped her phone. 

Random fans, both of hers and the Leafs, as well as a few more seemingly reputable Leaf accounts tweeted a photo, gif, and/or video of her hugging Ema and cheering for Auston’s goal. They were all captioned with something along the lines of: “New couple in Toronto?” 

Savannah tried not to panic, knowing she needed to put on a face for Connor’s parents. She chatted with them briefly before leaving the rink and walking out to the platform, her face now pale and her hands cold, and not just from being at the arena. Steph spotted her and immediately knew something was wrong, making her way towards her best friend. 

“Sav, are you okay?” she reached over to touch Savannah’s arm. Savannah broke out of her daze and plastered on the fakest smile Stephanie had ever seen. “Don’t even try to lie to me right now.”

The tight smile fell from Savannah’s face. 

“I need to leave,” Savannah rushed out. “Now.”

“What? Why?” Stephanie pulled her off to the side, away from any potentially prying eyes of fans and other family members. Savannah handed her phone to Steph where she had open to the picture and the damning caption. Savannah almost felt grateful for the panicked look that crossed Stephanie’s features, knowing her best friend understood the problem. 

“Savvy, why don’t you go up to the family suite or something? We can message Lucy and she can let you in. That way you don’t have to leave and can still stay for Connor and Auston.”

“I can’t, Steph,” Savannah felt short of breath. She needed to leave this space and she needed to leave now. “Please, please understand.” 

Stephanie felt for her friend, knowing that this was one of her biggest fears. The last thing Savannah wanted was to be linked to anyone else and have rumours potentially derail her season yet again. She had worked so hard to overcome those adversaries in the past. 

“Okay,” she pulled Savannah into a hug. “But please let me know when you get home. I’ll make something up to the parents.” 

Savannah nodded her thanks and began to leave the arena, feeling tears begin to prick her eyes. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. 

She knew it had all been too good to be true. 

__ 

After the game, which the Leafs won 4-3, Auston felt on top of the world. He had three points including the game winner, he beat McDavid which was always fun when you were playing one of the greatest players in the world, and on top of that, he had his girl at the game. What else could he want? As he began to leave the locker room, Mitch called out to him. 

“Matts, you should see this,” he said, making his way to his friend with a concerned look on his face. 

“What’s up?” Auston was confused when Mitch simply handed him his phone that was open to Twitter. The first post he saw was a series of images of Savannah at his games, some of them with her sitting with and hugging his mom, and one of them at the pumpkin patch. Even though they stood on opposite ends of the photo, he knew it was enough for rumours to spread. Fans were noticing a pattern and they were quick to draw their own conclusions. Auston saw that Savannah’s twitter handle was tagged, as well as Skate Canada. “Fuck,” he muttered, shoving the phone back in Mitch’s hand and bolting out of the locker room. 

He made up an excuse to bail on dinner with his parents and said he would meet them back at his place later. He needed to get to Savannah before it was too late. 

__ 

On the drive over, Auston prepared speech after speech after speech, trying to figure out the best thing to say to comfort Savannah. She ran from the game and he was beginning to worry if she would run from him. They had been making so much progress lately. He was starting to feel like he didn’t even need a label with her - he just wanted to be with her. That was enough. 

Auston took a deep breath before he knocked on Savannah’s door. He needed to stay calm for her sake. When the door finally opened, he felt his heart break. Savannah looked more fragile than Auston had ever seen her as she wrapped her arms around herself. She was still in the clothes she wore to the game, but her hair looked like she had been running her fingers through it. He had a feeling she had returned to her apartment and spent the rest of the time going through the tags to see just how bad it was. 

Savannah took a step back, giving him room to come in. He reached out for her, but she dodged his hand and walked back into her living room. Auston let his hand drop helplessly to his side as he followed her.

“Sav, I’m so-”

“I can’t...” she paused, taking a deep breath. “I can’t go to any more of your games.”

Auston nodded, having already predicted she would say that. He hoped that maybe eventually she would warm to sitting in the family suite without any photos, but he understood not wanting to sit in the stands after tonight. He could respect that. “Okay, I understand. But are you okay?”

“Auston, look at my phone,” Savannah turned her phone to him to show it blowing up with notifications and calls that she was ignoring. “Does this look okay to you?” she demanded, misplacing her anger but needing to express it nonetheless. 

Auston shrugged, not knowing what to say to comfort her. His phone always looked like that because people were always tagging him in videos and pictures. He knew for him it wasn’t a big deal, but could tell that Savannah wasn’t used to this attention. 

“I need a break,” Savannah sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. Auston itched to reach out for her but didn’t in fear that she would pull away again. 

“Sav, why don’t you take a hot bath or something? I’ll make you a tea and we could just watch a movie,” he suggested. He waited as Savannah mulled over his words, her hands moving to absent-mindedly massage her neck. 

“Yeah, okay,” she relented, moving past Auston and towards her bedroom. 

After a half hour passed, Auston was starting to become concerned. Her tea was already cold as it sat on her coffee table with a queued up Netflix on her TV. He could still hear the water running so he walked towards her bathroom and pressed his ear against the door. He was crushed when he heard her sobs. Quietly opening the door, he waited outside the shower, the steam fogging up the mirrors. 

“Sav?” he asked quietly, not wanting to scare her. She didn’t answer. “Sav,” he tried again. “Can I-” he paused, not wanting to push her but wanting her to know she could need him and lean on him. “Can I come in?” 

He heard her sniffle and then came a quiet, “Yes.” Auston quickly disrobed and gently pulled the shower curtain back. “Baby,” he sighed, his whole body dropping at the sight of her red-rimmed eyes. He reached out slowly, wrapping his arms around her entire body when she walked into them. 

They stood like that for another ten minutes, hot water beating on their bodies, Savannah’s face buried in Auston’s chest as he alternately squeezed her body close to his and rubbed his hands up and down her back and across her sore neck. He hated that he could feel the tension in her shoulders, even as she was in his embrace. He wanted nothing more than to ease her worries and cure her sadness. But he knew that when they went back out into her living room and she looked at her phone, she would feel the stress all over again. He only hoped that she would let him ride it out with her. 

When he felt Savannah let out a deep breath, he pulled away and cupped her face in his hands, staring into her eyes sincerely. “I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry.”

Savannah squeezed her eyes shut, removing herself from his embrace. 

“We should probably get out,” she croaked, her voice hoarse from crying. He nodded, stepping out of the shower first so he could grab her towel. When she stepped out, he wrapped the towel around her shoulders, drying off her body. She held the towel tightly around her shivering body, not making eye contact with him. 

“I’ll boil the kettle to make you a tea,” he kissed her forehead, knowing he should give her space and that the tea he had prepared was probably ice cold by now. After he dried himself off and redressed into sweatpants and a hoodie, he busied himself with boiling the kettle again. 

When she came out five minutes later, hair still wet but her body dry in her soft bathrobe, he waited in the kitchen, back to her, to see what move she would make. 

“I think I can’t see you anymore,” she whispered. Auston felt his heart drop and stomach squeeze as he whipped around to face her. He studied her face before he said anything, trying to read it but she kept it purposely blank. He knew that look and he knew it wasn’t good. She was shutting him out, treating him like any other person who she didn’t let know her. 

“Sav, I-” Auston paused, willing his voice not to give away his panic as he moved towards her. “I don’t understand. Can’t you just put out a statement that you’re friends with Mitch and Steph and so you were at the game with them? It doesn’t have to have anything to do with me.”

Savannah just shook her head. She had already thought of that and had mentally been preparing a statement to have for her team to put out and for Skate Canada to hopefully accept at face value. It made sense on paper. She knew it would be easy enough to believe. But she also felt like the damage had been done. Now nosy people might be on the lookout for something more and she couldn’t risk that. Her reputation, her narrative, had been so negatively affected in the past by rumours that she had promised herself she wouldn’t allow that to happen again. 

“I will do that,” she started, moving away from him to stand in her foyer. She couldn’t let him touch her or else she would cave. She needed to be strong. Eyes on the prize. “But for now, I think it’s best if we take a break. If more people see us together, it becomes a thing. I can’t let the speculation take over.”

“Sav, no,” Auston reached for her, grateful when she didn’t step back. He pulled her arms from her chest to hold her hands tightly in his, but she leaned her head down, avoiding his gaze. When he heard her try to hold back a whimper, he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the top of her head. “Please,” he whispered, tears pricking his eyes. He pulled back after a moment and captured her chin with his thumb and forefinger, begging her to look into his eyes. When her eyes didn’t open, he tentatively leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on her lips. When she didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, reveling in the feeling of her kissing him back. But then he knew this wasn’t one of their passionate kisses that lead to more. This was a good-bye kiss that lead to an end. 

Savannah pulled away, her entire body trembling. Careful. She walked towards her door. “I don’t know how long this break will be,” her voice getting stronger. “But I have to do what’s best for me. And this is just casual, so it’s not like we’re breaking up or should be that sad, right? Just friends and sex,” she shrugged dismissively. 

“Just friends and sex,” Auston repeated bitterly, angry at her empty words. He knew she didn’t mean them, but they still cut deep. 

“You said it yourself that this was just casual and it’s not more than that, right?” Not giving him a chance to answer, Savannah opened her door. “I’m sorry for how this happened, Auston,” she started, not looking him in the eye, unable to see the hurt she knew she was causing. “But I need some time. Please.”

Auston felt frozen to the spot, desperate to stay but also angry with her and with the fans and with himself. He walked towards the door, his eyes trained on her as he slipped on his shoes and jacket. He waited for her to look at him, but she kept her eyes on her feet. He sighed, and walked out the door, hearing Savannah close it softly behind him and turning the locks. But he didn’t hear her slide down the door, sobbing into her lap. 

This couldn’t be it, could it? A tear escaped his eyes as he pushed the down button for the elevator. He went from feeling on top of the world an hour ago to now feeling like he was carrying the weight of it on his shoulders and his heart.

__

Half an hour later, Savannah sat curled on up her couch. She had changed into leggings and one of Auston’s t-shirts that he left behind, blankets covering her legs. She had been scrolling through the posts again when a call from Connor came through. She had completely forgotten that they had plans. When she picked up the call, Connor spoke before she could say anything. 

“Savannah Lane,” his voice came through loud and teasing. “Just because you got all close with the Leafs doesn’t mean you can bail on me!” He laughed, waiting for her to tease back. When nothing but a sniffle came, his entire tone changed. “Sav? Are you okay? Where are you? I’ll come to you.”

“I’m at home,” Savannah said softly, still sniffling. 

“I’m on my way. Be there in twenty!” Connor ended the call and immediately increased his driving speed. There were only a handful of moments Connor could recall over the years of their friendship when he had seen Savannah cry that didn’t include watching sad movies or shows, or videos on the internet like soldiers coming home to their families or dogs reuniting with their owners. She was a big old sap when it came to anything like that, but when it came to crying over situations in her own life, she usually kept that private. He felt a rush of panic, wondering what could be so bad that she would be crying right now. 

Connor made it in under fifteen minutes, likely breaking a few speeding laws along the way. He knew it was worth it when she opened the door, wearing leggings and a shirt that looked way too big on her, her face stained with tracks of her tears. 

Wordlessly, he reached out and pulled her into a tight embrace, arms wrapped around her shoulders as she sniffled into his shirt. He closed the door behind them with his foot and started to walk her over to her couch, arms still around her. 

When they sat down, she crossed her legs under her and pulled a blanket over herself. He kept his hand on hers, hoping his touch would make her feel better. He waited until she was settled into her spot before speaking. 

“Sav, what happened?”

Savannah reached for her phone on the coffee table and handed it to him without saying anything. She watched as he scanned through the now hundreds of tag notifications and messages on her phone, including an unopened voicemail and messages from Steph, as well as messages from Mitch and Morgan, all asking if she was okay and telling her to call them when she was ready and that she shouldn’t worry. 

As he read through the messages, Connor grew more confused. He couldn’t actually see what she was tagged in other than Leafs related news. So she was tagged in Leafs posts from the game? He didn’t understand how that would make her cry. Noticing his confusion, Savannah reached over and unlocked her phone. “Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, take your pick,” she handed the phone back to him. 

He opened her Twitter app hesitantly, unsure of what he’d find. Realization dawned on him after he found a post with a series of images attached. Fuck. 

- “Are they dating? She sat with his parents at a few games!” 

- “Look at how Mrs. Matthews hugs her. Clearly they know each other well. They must have been dating for a while now.”

- “Ugh, why couldn’t she be dating Morgan Reilly or McDavid? Canada’s Sweetheart shouldn’t be dating an American!”

- “So do you think they cheer for each other when their countries compete at the Olympics?”

- “Look at this photo a fan snapped of her at a pumpkin patch with him and Mitch and Steph. Double date?” 

And on and on it went, some nicer than others, and some with fairly aggressive and intrusive questions about the nature of their relationship. Connor sighed, annoyed for her. 

“Sav, I’m so sorry,” he felt like he understood what had her upset. Her narrative was once again in question and now this could hang over her whole season. If Auston’s season declines, does she get blamed the same way she was previously with Brian and Claire? People would look for any reason and a simple connection between the two with a few photos as ‘evidence’ would be enough to suffice bloggers and both of their fandoms. It was frustrating for sure, but he was still a little confused by just how upset she was. The last time something similar happened, she just shut down in front of everyone. Now she was crying. He was missing something. 

“You can put out a statement of some kind, right?” he tried to help. “Make it lighthearted about becoming a Leafs fan now that this is your homebase? I mean, these posts are all ridiculous and inaccurate anyway.”

She nodded sullenly. “I have.”

He waited for her to say something else but nothing came. 

“Savvy,” he started gently, “what else is there?” He could feel there was something she wasn’t saying. 

“They’re not all inaccurate,” she raised her eyes to meet his, trying to gauge his reaction. He studied her face for a moment, unsure of what to think. 

“Wait,” his voice, if possible, got lower. “You and Auston?” He had to hold back a shocked laugh when she simply nodded. He knew Auston was into Savannah, but he had never expected Savannah to actually start something with him. “All right. Full details. Now, please.”

So Savannah told him the whole story from start to finish. He kept his face straight during the entire explanation, not wanting her to feel judged and hold back. When she finished, he sat there for a moment, contemplating his next words carefully. 

He only had one response that felt like it adequately summed up her story and that he felt she needed to hear from someone who knew her and loved her through all of the ups and downs. Something only a best friend could say. 

“Sav,” he laughed lightly, “you are both idiots.” 

“I know,” she sighed and nodded. “I was stupid for starting something in the first place.” Savannah herself had felt a bit silly for thinking a casual sexual relationship was something she could do without consequences. But then Connor shook his head, as if she didn’t understand what he meant. 

“No, not for that. You’re both idiots for neither of you seeing just how stupidly in love with him you are.”

Savannah’s jaw dropped. Wait. What?

“Don’t look at me like that!” Connor wagged a teasing finger at her. “You might be able to lie to yourself and you might even be able to confuse Auston just enough with your hot and cold routine that he hasn’t fully caught on, but you can’t lie to me. And I’m sure Steph knows, too. You are in love with Auston.”

Savannah sat in stunned silence, replaying the words over and over in her mind. She was in love with Auston? She cared about him, sure. More than she had wanted to, even she could admit. But in love with him? She thought back to asking him to leave, reliving the heaviness she felt in her chest and the pain on his face. 

Auston. The man who stayed up late with her, even on nights when he had practice early the next morning, debating which Harry Potter was the best (movie AND book) or which season finale of Grey’s Anatomy was the most emotional. The man who made her feel comfortable enough to make an advance on him at a dinner table in public. The man who didn’t seem to understand that toques were meant to be worn to cover the ears and keep them warm, not as a fashion accessory sitting atop his hair. The man who knew how to make her tea just the way she liked it. The man who watched her competition before one of his own games just to cheer her on. The man she told childhood stories to and explained some of her worst moments and greatest fears, personal and professional. The man who could make her feel like she was in the safest place in the world just by wrapping her up in his arms. That guy. 

Ho-ly fuck. 

“I...am in love with Auston,” Savannah whispered slowly, more to herself than to Connor, as if she couldn’t believe the truth behind what she was saying. “I’m in love with Auston. What. The Hell.”

Connor patted her hand comfortingly, knowing how big of a realization this was. 

“So now the question is, what are you going to do about it?”

[omegaling]

Allez Cuisine! ~Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen: Biscuits and Double Doubles

   The chicken in the hot skillet popped, and the only thing that saved Rey’s cashmere sweater from being ruined by flying globs of molton butter were reflexes earned from working with spitting meats, roiling hot broths and sauces for a living.  She glared at the offending pieces of poultry, still plump and pink and unassuming as they sizzled away. She already knew that wearing nice clothing while cooking came with considerable risk; she didn’t need to be reminded of it by her own dinner.

It wasn’t as though she didn’t have other clothes to wear.  However, it just so happened that all her casual day-to-day clothes were in desperate need of a wash (she hadn’t planned on doing her laundry until Monday, because who washes clothes while on vacation?).  So that left her to choose between faded sweatpants and over-stretched sweatshirts or the outfits she saved for more formal occasions. Since she had sworn long ago that the former was saved only for the comforts of home and in the presence of close friends, she had no choice but to wear one of her nicer sweaters and pair of jeans tonight.  It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Kylo was coming over for dinner.

The same went for the hours she put into vacuuming and dusting the apartment and scrubbing the kitchen counters and cabinets until they gleamed.  It was just one of those things she kept putting off that needed to get done.

It was a little harder to make excuses to why she decided to shave her legs in late November, when it would be at least another five months before she wore anything resembling shorts again.

She didn’t even attempt to justify her choice to wear makeup, or in why she was wearing her sexiest bra and panties.

The watch on Rey’s wrist chirped the hour, and her grip on the tongs in her hand instantaneously tightened; Kylo was due to arrive at any moment. If she was going to be completely honest with herself, she still wasn’t entirely certain if inviting him to dinner was the smartest thing to do. True, he apologized about being an ass about her humble upbringing, but there was still that small, unsavory detail about their last face-to-face when she hurled his real name at him before she left.  The memory of the look he gave her before she walked out his door haunted her for days afterward. She had expected rage and shock and indignation, but what she hadn’t expected was… She couldn’t quite put it into words, but the closest emotion she could compare it to was fear. As though that by saying his name had consequences she didn’t understand.

Against her better judgement, Rey did a Google search for Ben Solo and was surprised to see that it yielded very few relevant results.  The top results were only a handful of articles from culture and entertainment publications, all of which were at least ten years old. When they did refer to Ben, it was only as a passing mention as the only son of Leia Organa and Han Solo, as though he was nothing more than an afterthought, or maybe a footnote.  There were even fewer pictures of him; just a few shots of a tall, gangly teenager with his eyes cast to the ground, trailing behind a smartly dressed woman who held herself with all the grace and confidence of royalty. In the captions, he was simply referred to as “Leia Organa’s son, Ben,” as though he were a mere accessory.  

Rey did come across some old interviews done with Han Solo when Going Solo was still being filmed, but those were even more disheartening.  While Han always told the journalist yes, he would love to take his family with him on his travels and that he believed the bonds formed on the open road were priceless, Rey wondered how much of an effort was really made in getting Ben on the show… or what discouraged him from ever bothering to try.

What Rey didn’t find was anything touching on the fact that Ben Solo and Kylo Ren were the same person: no gossip, no fansite conspiracies, no comment from some random bloke saying Kylo looked like someone they went to high school with.  Even sites like Twitter and Reddit were strangely mum for once. It was almost as if Ben Solo was phased out of existence, fading further into obscurity with each passing year, and for whatever reason, being reminded of who he once was scared Kylo something awful.

Rey’s grip tightened around her tongs as a wave of indignant anger welled up in her.  Though she had no evidence to back it up and no reason to believe it, she knew deep in her gut that Snoke was behind it.  How could he not? She did not know how Snoke managed to turn the son of his greatest rival to his side, but if half of what Rey heard about that horrible man was true, she could not imagine how deep he had his claws in Kylo to ensure remained loyal to him, no matter what.  The fear in his eyes was testament enough to that.

A knock on the front door nearly sent the tongs flying from Rey’s hand, her mind rapidly flashing “he’s here he’s here he’s here” like an over-excited teenager going on her first date before she reigned it in.  She had to make herself not sprint to the door, but instead to calmly turn the chicken over, confirm she was satisfied with the golden-brown hue it had taken on, then calmly walk to the entryway. Her hands had a small tremor in them, but that was quickly done away with by rubbing them against her jeans. By the time she opened the door, she was confident that she was composed enough so at least the night wouldn’t start on an awkward note.

Kylo stood in the building’s hallway, once again immaculate in a finely woven sweater, smartly creased pants and hair falling to his shoulders in soft waves.  In one hand he held a bottle of white wine, and in the other…

… a bouquet of sunflowers and yellow roses.

Rey felt her heart seize and stutter, regaining its normal rhythm just before it stopped completely.

Shit.  

So much for keeping the night casual.

It’s finally happened.  I’m turning into my father.

To say that Kylo had few fond moments of his father was an understatement.  Long before Going Solo was ever pitched to a network, Han had been a fleeting presence in Ben Solo’s life; at home only when he wasn’t off gallivanting around with Lando Calrissian or Tobias Beckett on whatever new scheme they cooked up.  Things would be good for a few weeks - Ben could almost fool himself into thinking they felt like a real family, and maybe this time it would stay that way.

Then the arguments would start.  At first they would be small, over things that should have been inconsequential, but soon they’d grow in frequency and intensity until his mother and father’s voices filled the house. Something would break, a door would slam shut, his mother would cry in whatever chair was closest for her to sink into, all the while Ben huddled in his closet with his hands over his ears, waiting for it to be over.  The next day his mother would try to reassure him that she and his father really did love each other, and that sometimes adults had issues they needed to figure out by themselves. Then she would throw herself into her work, leaving him largely in the care of nannies as she visited the trendiest new restaurants, made appearances at press events and gave interviews.  Or, she would simply shut herself up in her office for what seemed like days on end, working on her articles.

Then, after a month or two of hearing nothing from him, Han would reappear on the doorstep of their brownstone with a bouquet of flowers for Leia and a treat for Ben from wherever he’d been: Moon Pies from Tennessee, Garett popcorn from Chicago, maple sugar candies from New Hampshire. And, like a couple of idiots, he and Leia welcomed him back every time and the cycle would start all over again, when what they should have done was slam it in his face.

Rey didn’t slam the door on him, but the bewildered look on her face made the palms of his hands slick with sweat and his heart do a weird little stutter behind his ribs.  Had he somehow misread her texts? There wasn’t a lot of ways to misinterpret “come over for dinner” and “be here at six,” yet in that moment, as they stared at each other from either side of the threshold of her apartment, he was convinced there was something he got wrong.

“Flowers.”

Kylo blinked, the one word stopping his spiraling thoughts before they descended into full-blown panic.  “I’m sorry?”

“You brought flowers.”  Rey’s words had no tone or infliction in them, which meant Kylo had no way to gauge her reaction.  Was she surprised? Annoyed? Offended? Her eyes were so wide he could see the reflection of the bright yellow petals in them.  Kylo was known around the culinary world for his cuisine that awoke desire and lust in even the most prudent of diners, so people naturally assumed that being a Casanova in the kitchen meant being one in all aspects of his life.  If any of his peers found out that he was really as suave as an acne-ridden teenager out on his first date they’d laugh until they pissed themselves.

Suddenly Rey jerked as if something had jabbed her which - embarrassingly - made Kylo jump in turn.  “Oh, shit!” she exclaimed before dashing back into her apartment, leaving him to stand alone and confused in her building’s hallway.  He was just about to leave when he heard her shout “You can come in!” from somewhere inside her home. Sighing in relief, Kylo stepped into her apartment.

   Rey’s apartment that she shared with a roommate was exactly as Kylo pictured it (not that he dwelled on how she spent her time when she wasn’t cooking, thank you very much).  The modest space was filled with an array of furniture that looked to have come from second-hand stores: the cushions of overstuffed couch were frayed and the arms threadbare in some places; the surface of the coffee table had a map of old scars from coaster neglect that not even a fresh coat of polish could hide; a bookshelf filled with an array of Blu Rays, video games, and books, with framed photos and an assortment of trinkets and brick-a-brac took up what free space was left.  A candle burned in the center of the coffee table, giving off a subtle scent of pumpkin pie spice and cloves, and a lighted fall garland draped over the entertainment center gave off a warm, cozy feeling that embodied the holiday season. It was all so wholesome: relaxed and lived-in, where friendships were cultivated and fond memories created.

It was a stark reminder of how much Kylo did not belong here.  In Rey’s world: in her life.

There were personal touches and details throughout the apartment that hinted that its occupants were not typical 20-something college students.  All art hanging on the walls related to food in some form or fashion: vintage prints of French pastries, art nouveau green fairies, watercolor paintings of herbs, charts showcasing all the different varieties of sushi and pasta, and stylized baking utensils with short, motivational quotes such as “life is short, lick the bowl!” A smaller bookshelf situated between the dining table and the kitchen counter held not only an array of cookbooks ranging from horderves to Chinese cuisine by region, but also a number of chef autobiographies, books on culinary history, and stacks of magazines stuffed in the bottommost two shelves. The pots and pans that hung neatly from hooks on the kitchen walls definitely did not come from Target, and he knew for a fact that most people wouldn’t be able to identify half of the utensils and knives he saw at a cursory glance, much less know how to properly use them.

Rey was in the apartment’s small kitchenette, transferring golden-brown chicken breasts from a frying pan to a glass baking dish.  There was something different about her tonight; Kylo had noticed the moment she opened the door. It was only as she busied herself with dinner that Kylo risked a glance to determine what it was.  It did not take him long to figure it out: it was evident in the dusky pink sheen of her lips and the hint of smoky shadow on her eyelids and the tan cashmere sweater outlining the gentle swell of her breasts and hips, not obscuring them as most of her clothing did.

She looked nice.  Not just pretty as she always did in her casual, au natural way, but done-up nice.  Date nice.

Suddenly there wasn’t anything Kylo wanted to do more than throw the flowers into the nearest garbage can.  He could only imagine what Rey must have thought when she saw them. He had only grabbed them on a whim as an apology for being such an ass, hence their color (never mind the fact that the sunflowers made him think of her the instant he saw them). Then again, she had obviously put time into her appearance before he arrived, not knowing he’d be bringing flowers. Had she just been nervous about being the host for once and wanted to make a good impression? Or what if - like his flowers - there was a subconscious reason for doing what she did, and did not realize it until they were standing face-to-face?

When he was about five or so, Han nearly drove Ben insane with the age-old “chicken or the egg” debate.  Now, thirty-something years later, he was feeling much as he did then.

“Sorry about running off like that,” Rey said as she set the pan down on a cool burner.  “Nearly forgot I had chicken on the stove. Then again,” she added with a small laugh with just a touch of nervousness in it, “it wouldn’t be Maz’s golden mushroom casserole if the chicken wasn’t slightly overcooked.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kylo said absently, mostly because he wasn’t sure what else to say.  He did, however, notice the rest of the ingredients neatly lined along the countertop: several cans of Cambell’s golden mushroom soup, a bottle of inexpensive sauvignon blanc, and a bowl piled high with a mix of shredded yellow and white cheese.  An automatic rice cooker ticked away by the sink, occasionally emitting up puffs of steam. “So I get to try this infamous dinner tonight?”

“If you knew that’s what I was making, would you still have come over?” Rey was rummaging through one of her cabinets so her voice was muffled, making it nearly impossible for Kylo to determine her tone of voice.

“Of course I would have,” he answered, and he meant it.  Rey could have told him she was heating up TV dinners in her microwave and he still would have accepted her invitation without hesitation.

Rey emerged at last from the cabinet, a glass pitcher in hand.  “I thought I had a vase lying around somewhere, but I guess not,” she said, more to herself than to him.  She filled the pitcher with water, then motioned for Kylo to pass the flowers to her. He obliged, their fingers brushing as the bouquet passed from his hand to hers.  He immediately dropped his hand to his side as she arranged the flowers in the pitcher, flexing it and unable to ignore how his skin tingled where it had touched hers, even for that brief instant.

He was so screwed.

At a loss for what else to do or say at the moment, Rey offered Kylo to have a seat and returned to finish their dinner.  It wasn’t easy, not with Kylo sitting at her counter, looking almost too big for her modest-sized apartment. It was even harder to not show how nervous she felt.  The same hands that could de-bone a duck or french a rack of lamb in less than five minutes now shook so bad as she measured the amount of wine she needed to mix into the soup that some of it sloshed over the side of the cup she was holding.

(She was suddenly very glad she didn’t choose to make anything more complex, otherwise tonight might have ended with a trip to the ER).

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Thankfully, Rey didn’t jump; if she had, then she would have showered the whole kitchen with a giant  handful of cheese. “Oh...um…” she stammered, thinking fast. “This is practically done, it just needs to go in the oven.  However,” she added quickly, “there’s a tube of biscuits in the refrigerator, if you want to get those ready. The baking sheets are to the right of the oven.  Unless you think that’s too many carbs with the rice.”

“I don’t mind,” Kylo said as he joined her in the kitchen.  “The war on carbs was a dark time in culinary history. I knew quite a few Italian chefs and bakers who almost had to close their businesses because their food was seen as ‘bad’ thanks to a few choice buzz words from companies pushing their low-carb products on people who didn’t know better.”

“And how can anyone possible refuse a basket of hot bread with real butter when it’s right there on the table?  That’s just not right. If there was such thing as a perfect food in the world, that’d be it.”

“I think I have to contest that,” Kylo said with what could have been a chuckle, but Rey couldn’t sure since his head was currently in her fridge.

“While you’re in there, can you grab me a Yuengling?  You can help yourself to one too if you’d like. I know you brought wine, but I figured we can save that for dinner.”

Kylo emerged from the refrigerator, a tube of Pillsbury biscuits in one hand and two green bottles dangling by their necks in the other.  He pushed the door closed with his elbow, then paused. Rey looked up from the oven as she pushed the casserole in, then froze when she realized what he was looking at.  It was a photograph of three Ghostbusters, one Stay Puft Marshmallow girl and a Sumerian demigod, inebriated and excited from having just placed in a costume contest. Rey loved that picture, even though she looked positively unflattering with her disheveled blonde wig and suggestively licking the blaster of her Proton pack.  She could only imagine what it must look like to Kylo, or what he was thinking seeing her with Finn and Poe. She did, however, hope that knowing she was friends with them outside of work didn’t sour the evening, but she braced herself for an abrupt end all the same.

To her surprise, Kylo only said, “That’s a good look for you.”

A laugh escaped her.  “Glad you think so. I was pretty hammered at that point,” she said, closing the oven door and standing up.  “I don’t even remember that picture being taken.”

“I could never get Phasma or Hux to do anything like that.  Well, maybe Phas if the conditions were right. Hux is about as much fun as an intestinal parasite, and he’d probably try to contract one just to get out of it.”  Kylo handed the beers over the Rey. She quickly popped off their tops with a bottle opener and passed one back to him, telling herself that she was not disappointed when their hands didn’t touch again.  “Do you spend a lot of time with Dameron and Trooper outside of work?”

“Considering Finn’s my roommate and Poe’s his boyfriend, just a bit,” she answered, hoping to keep her tone light.  Then, feeling a little bolder, she continued: “I’d like there to be a time when I don’t have to keep meeting you in secret.  That there’s some kind of neutral ground all of us can find. Not any time soon. Just… some day.”

Rey knew she was poking a hornet’s nest; Kylo’s shoulders instantly tensed, and a very long moment passed before he spoke.

“Someday.  Maybe. I wish I could give you a better answer Rey, but right now I can’t.  It’s...complicated.”

It’s Snoke and the leash he’s keeping on you, you mean, Rey wanted to challenge, but she was done testing her luck for the night.  She only nodded and said, “Someday is a good enough answer for me right now if it’s good for you.”  

Before they could lapse back into silence, Rey quickly changed the subject to more familiar territory.  “So,” she said, hoisting herself onto the counter on the opposite side of the sink. “You said you didn’t agree with my claim that bread and butter is one of the most perfect foods. What then, in your infinite gastronomy wisdom, is?”

“An In ‘n Out Double Double animal style, of course,” Kylo said, opening the can of biscuits with a wet, airy pop.  

Rey couldn’t help the astonished noise she made.  “Doth my ears deceive me? The great Kylo Ren’s favorite food is a fast food burger?”

“You’ve obviously never had an In ‘n Out burger,” he chided.  “To be honest, if you had asked me that same question a few weeks ago, I would have given you a completely different and horribly clique answer like I would for a magazine interview; just some fabrication of what people want to hear, and not what I really think or feel.”  He stopped placing the biscuits on the baking sheet and looked at her, his eyes so intensely focused that it took her breath away. “You changed that.”

Rey swallowed thickly, taking a sip of her beer to hide what that gaze did to her, inside and out.  “Oh? How did I manage to do that?”

Was it her imagination, or did his eyes wander down the length of her body, taking in the way her neck arched when she drank from her bottle to how her jeans conformed to the curve of her thighs and calves?  Rey never was very good at picking up on cues when people genuinely flirted with her, and she was even worse when trying to flirt with someone herself. Was she reading too much into that look, or not enough?  She barely managed to hold her shit together when he showed up on her doorstep with flowers, and now he was damn near looking at her like he had when he spoke of Hades and Persephone on Iron Chef America.  If he made any kind of real move…

Luckily (or unluckily; Rey wasn’t quite sure which) she wouldn’t be finding out, because he returned to the task at hand.  “Because you were right,” he continued. “People shouldn’t disown their pasts. Especially chefs. For most of us, our passions were born from the kitchens of our mothers and grandmothers, learning what was passed down to them from their grandmothers and back through generations.  Other chefs always return to that one defining moment when they discovered food was special. Important. That sharing the right meal with the right person can make it feel like all’s well in the world.”

Kylo’s voice grew so soft that Rey wondered if he was only talking to himself.  She wanted nothing more than to slide from her perch and wrap her arms around him, but she didn’t want to risk him withdrawing back into himself because of her unwanted advances.  When he didn’t say anything else, Rey gently prompted, “So which one are you? The pupil of generations past, or a single moment of epiphany?”

“It was a boy and his father sitting on a pier in Southern California, eating fast food burgers and watching the sun set over the ocean and seagulls fighting over dropped fries.  And the boy thought, maybe if he learned to make food just like that hot, greasy, wonderful sandwich, maybe the father would stick around for a change.”

Rey’s body moved on its own accord, sliding off the counter and crossing the kitchen to lay her hand on his: their first true intimate touch.

He wouldn’t look at her.

“Is that what happened to Ben Solo?  Is he still on that pier, waiting for his father to come back?”

She waited for him to answer, but the oven timer went off instead.

“I’ll go set the table,” he said softly, his hand sliding out from under hers as he moved toward the cabinets where she and Finn kept the dishes. Rey’s heart ached for him, but at the same time she could not deny that she also felt a little happy, as selfish as that was.

Kylo was opening up to her.  More importantly, he wasn’t running away.

For now, that was enough.

“How did you find out?” Kylo asked, passing Rey a dinner plate freshly rinsed of suds.

“It turns out that my foster mother knew your father from way back,” Rey said, accepting the plate and attacking it with her dish towel.  “Do you happen to remember Maz Kanata?”

Kylo made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan.  “Oh yes, I remember old Maz. And I can already hear what she’ll say when you tell her you proved me wrong about her cooking.”  Rey giggled, recalling how Kylo unabashedly accepted seconds of the steamy, cheesy concoction that he once deemed sounded “revolting.”  “Did she say anything specific about me, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Rey shrugged with one shoulder.  “Not really. Only that you were a scrawny kid and you need to call your mother,” she said, taking another dinner plate from him.  “But I’m assuming that’s another complicated issue?”

“Very,” Kylo agreed solemnly, and Rey took that as a cue that that particular part of the conversation was over.

“It’s funny, though, how things like that come full circle,” Rey mused. “Your dad and my mom were once friends, and now here we are, cooking for each other and washing the dinner dishes afterwards.”

Like friends.  Maybe even almost like a couple.

Kylo grunted in affirmation, scrubbing at the crusty cheese that ringed the baking dish.  The sleeves of his sweater were rolled up to his elbows, and fluffy soap suds covered his forearms.  Maybe it was the earlier beer and half a bottle of white bordeaux in her system, but Rey suddenly felt devilishly mischievous.  Reaching across the sink, she caught of blob of bubbles on her finger and then dabbed it on the very end of Kylo’s nose.

Kylo jerked back as if he’d been shocked, and the look he gave her was so incredulous that Rey couldn’t help but burst out laughing.  

“What was that for?” he demanded, hastily scrubbing the bubbles off.

“You’re just so serious all the time,” Rey said through her mirth.

Kylo turned away, but before Rey could wonder if she’d gone too far he scooped up a handful of bubbles and smeared it in her hair.

Rey practically shrieked and threw herself at him, armed with a softball-sized ball of bubbles.  Before she could reach her intended target - Kylo’s aggravatingly handsome face - he effortlessly caught her wrists and pinned her arms behind her back, her forward momentum causing her to crash against him.  

Rey’s breath hitched in her chest, which only made her more acutely aware of the way her body was pressed flush to his.  It was impossible to believe there was a time he was made up of anything other than knees and elbows, not when he felt like a living mountain against her own softer curves, his thick arms on either side of her efficiently trapping her. How many times had she imagined herself in a situation just like this with him, with the fingers of one hand curled inside her and the other on her breast as a cheap mockery of his sensual mouth? How would this night end if she rolled her hips into his, or if she pushed herself up on her toes and closed the space between their lips?  If the dark light in his eyes was anything to go by, he was thinking the exact same thing.

That was until he cleared his throat and released her hands, taking a step back.  “Truce?”

“Sure… Truce,” Rey agreed reluctantly.  “I can finish the dishes later. Do you maybe want to watch a movie or something…?”

“Actually, I should get going.  Vader is hosting its first major executive Christmas party this week and there are a few kinks in the menu I still need to work out.”

Rey hoped her disappointment wasn’t too evident as she walked him to the door.  He shrugged into his coat and put on his shoes, but as he reached for the doorknob he paused, looking back at her.

“Maybe after the new year and our schedules clear up we can do something together.  Something non-food related, I mean.”

Rey’s heart skipped a beat.  “You mean like a date?”

The tips of Kylo’s ears turned red.  “Yeah, I guess I do mean like a date.”

Rey smiled, causing Kylo’s ears to go even more read than before.  “I’d love to.”

Kylo took Rey’s hand and raised it to his mouth, brushing a kiss over her knuckles.  He thanked her again for dinner and left.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Rey raised her hand to her mouth and gently pressed her knuckles to her lips, breathing in the lingering scent of Kylo’s aftershave hanging in the entryway and wondering if, some day, the same scent would be left on her pillow too.

[gramilano]

Nureyev is an important new documentary about Rudolf Nureyev’s extraordinary life which will be shown in cinemas around the UK from 25 September.

BAFTA nominated directors Jacqui and David Morris have interviewed Nureyev’s colleagues from the dance world – Alla Osipenko, Ghislaine Thesmar, Dame Antoinette Sibley, Clement Crisp, Meredith Daneman – but sensibly don’t fill the screen with them sitting on sofas surrounded by ballet memorabilia, but illustrate their contributions with video clips and photos, enabling them to pack far more into the film’s already generous 1hr 50min running time. There is much to show because the filmmakers have unearthed 16 minutes of unseen video.

The documentary is divided into thematic blocks rather than being a simple chronology and these are interspersed with quotes, the first being from Napoleon, “Great people are meteors designed to burn so that the earth may be lighted,” and the film proceeds to show how greatly Nureyev illuminated the dance world.

There is an interesting archival recording of Yehudi Menuhin who says,

There is something in the background of any Russian, whether he be Jewish or a Tartar, which dramatizes a situation; it’s more potent, more intense. It probably comes from the fact that they have such an otherwise difficult life, as it’s always been for hundreds of years between snow and mud, and they are almost harnessed to the earth and the problems of life. It enables them when they are liberated on the stage to live life as they would have liked to have lived it, with all the abandon and the capacity for focusing, for dramatizing, for intensifying the emotion and the thought. It’s as if the sun were shining through a lens and you focus it on something and it started burning. The whole of life, the whole universe, focuses itself through the greatest Russians and they start burning, burning up the audience and burning up themselves.

These neatly connected quotes and thoughts pertinently explain Nureyev’s character, and is typical of the film’s sensitivity and understated reflections on the nature and career of this gigantic influencer. It has no sensationalism but is reflective and full of warmth.

Russell Maliphant has created scenes, sort of dance tableaux, which illustrate the mood of extracts from Nureyev’s memoirs, read by Siân Phillips, and other audio recollections and commentary – dancing in the snow, huddling among the Russian birch trees, folding sheets. Theatre composer Alex Baranowski — who wrote the score for Northern Ballet’s 1984 — has created a suggestive background for these scenes, indeed the whole film, and Lucia Lacarra and Marlon Dino are two of the dancers who appear.

The fascination with the West in the ‘50s drew young Russians to make homemade records of its evil pop music and to dance the jitterbug behind closed doors — including young ballet dancers. The film is outstanding at contextualising this and other periods of Nureyev’s life. While Russia didn’t have teenage dance moves or gigantic American fridges, it did have two powerful weapons at its disposal, the Kirov and the Bolshoi, and what better way to enhance Russian prestige around the world than by having these companies tour abroad.

The Kirov was in Paris in 1961. Alla Osipenko, one of Nureyev’s partners, says,

We were totally into the underground nightlife at the time and it was a real challenge to return unseen in the morning… Rudolf was a free spirit: “This is how I want my life to be and I will live it that way. I don’t want to live the way you order me to. I will walk my own path in life.”

Nureyev defected in Paris in 1961 on Osipenko’s 29th birthday. For this, she, and many others, paid a price.

I was not allowed to leave the country for 10 years. I knew how to block those things out, saying to myself, “It’s not vital to go to America.”

The film focuses on his relationship with Erik Bruhn — Sibley: “All my generation, us girls, were in love with Erik Bruhn.” — and that with Margot Fonteyn, who invited the young Nureyev to dance in a gala at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, on 2 November 1961. John Tooley, former director of the Royal Opera House has another slant on the story,

He wasn’t exactly invited over here – he arrived. He had written to Margot and said, I want to appear in your gala and I want to dance with you.

A Fonteyn quote:

Genius is another word for magic, and the whole point of magic is that it is inexplicable.

And ‘magic’ was the word used to describe the effect of their partnership on stage.

Fonteyn explains,

I believe that our partnership would not have been quite such a success if it hadn’t been for the difference in our ages, because what happened was that I’d go out on the stage thinking, who’s going to look at me with this young lion leaping ten feet high in the air and doing all those fantastic things. And then Rudolf had really this deep respect because I was this older, very famous, established ballerina. So it sort of charged the performance that we were both going out there inspired by the other one, and somehow it just worked.

Nureyev almost immediately rustled feathers at The Royal Ballet when he modified its production of Swan Lake after Fonteyn had agreed to do it his way. He justified his approach,

We became one body, one soul, we moved in one way, it was very complimentary, every arm movement, every head movement, there were no more cultural gaps or age difference, we were absorbed in characterisation. We became the part.

It was revolutionary and most of the audience loved it. One of the Covent Garden establishment said that Nureyev was like the Great War, wiping out a generation of male dancers on his arrival. The success of the Fonteyn/Nureyev partnership was unprecedented. Sibley says,

Footballers must have this all the time, this yelling and screaming, and it was unbelievable. It was out of all proportion to anything one had been accustomed to before.

Lucia Lacarra and Marlon Dino

A section of the documentary devoted to Nureyev’s often difficult character hears him describing his Tartar blood:

It runs faster somehow, it is always ready to boil, and yet it seems that we are more languid than the Russians, more sensuous — we are a curious mixture of tenderness and brutality.

English National Opera’s master carpenter, Ted Murphy, remembers some of the fights,

Over the years he’d have different people looking after him on stage and he used to kick them, punch them, slap them – I’ve seen all of that happening – but it was all to do about how his performance was really.

National Ballet School of Canada’s Betty Oliphant tells the story of her student who was playing a pageboy, excitedly telling her that Nureyev had spoken to him:

I said, “Oh that’s wonderful. Was he nice?” And he said, “Well, he told me to fuck off.”

Drawing by Jamie Wyeth

On love and relationships, the film documents the competitive love affair between Nureyev and Bruhn, which turned sour as Nureyev began to overshadow his former mentor. Pierre Lacotte recalls witnessing tremendous arguments between them.

As he told me one day — says Ghislaine Thesmar — you have to choose between giving your energy to love a human being or to love your art. You have to choose, you can’t have both… If you give yourself to art, nobody can take the place of art, it’s impossible. They can accompany you as long as they can stand it but then if you lose them you lose them, it’s not important.

When talk show host Michael Parkinson asked him if he had a sense of belonging anywhere, he replied simply, “Dance”.

Nureyev was open to newer forms of dance, different ways to move. He admired Martha Graham greatly, who remembered,

Rudolf came to see me backstage and just stood and looked at me and we didn’t talk about anything. Finally, it came out that he has an appetite for the new and he wants to experience everything to its fullest. He said, “I do not mind if I make a fool of myself.”

There is some previously unreleased amateur footage of him in some of the Graham works he performed. Other unseen clips of Nureyev in action show him rehearsing Nutcracker with Claude de Vulpian during his time as the Artistic Director of the Paris Opera Ballet.

The clubbing and cruising part of his life is coloured with moody archive footage of bathhouses and discos. Former New York City Ballet Principal Dancer, Heather Watts, was one of the first artists to join the fight against AIDS in the mid-1980s:

The year is ’82 and suddenly we start hearing about boys dying, just dying, and there’s real fear. The partying stopped, the fun stopped, and we started burying our friends. It was like a war.

  In 1987 when Nureyev was finally allowed to return to Russia to visit his dying mother, his face had started to look slightly gaunt. He had been diagnosed with HIV in 1984.

Margot Fonteyn died in 1981. He said,

It was very lucky for us to have those glorious years. She became a very, very great friend of mine. To me she is part of my family. That all what I have – only her.

His own death came less than two years later.

Ghislaine Thesmar:

I really think this man was exceptional. I don’t mean the Rudolf of photos, making faces or scandals and all these cheapy things, I mean the real man he was… I think he defended the world of ballet. He loved ballet like a child would love a god, it was beautiful to see that.

An emotional Antoinette Sibley chokes as she says,

He was a very special person, and I feel very proud to have been part of it.

  Nureyev, the film, will be launching in cinemas nationwide from 25 September 2018 with daily previews at Curzon Mayfair, London from 21 September.

  Preview: Nureyev the film is a glorious celebration of an exceptional life Nureyev is an important new documentary about Rudolf Nureyev’s extraordinary life which will be shown in cinemas around the UK from 25 September.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #145-146: The Taking of the Avengers!/The Assassin Never Fails!

March, 1976

Or the bifurcated King-Size Avengers #5.

And on the cover we have generically named the Assassin throwing photographs of Avengers at the reader. There are various things about the Assassin that makes me think ‘Slade Wilson four years before Slade Wilson’ but I’ll get into that later.

We start off confirming that these two issues are filler because Englehart ran afoul deadlines.

But also: the Avengers fighting Zodiac. But the rounded panels indicate that this isn’t a now thing and sure enough we see that the splash and other panels are footage of the Avengers’ fights that were obtained by throwing money at the problem.

The fight against the Zodiac, the fight against Grim Reaper and Space Phantom and Hydra, Thor’s fight against the Destroyer, Cap’s fight against the less memorable Moonstone, Iron Man versus Dr Spectrum, Vision versus Magneto, Hawkeye versus Zzzax.

And as these films are shown, purple suit man narrates about the various Avengers. And then asks the Assassin: “The Avengers: possibly the mightiest single force on this planet. Can you take them?”

The Assassin goes outside to play some golf and consider the offer. Several of the Avengers’ old enemies have kicked in money. One billion dollars payout with up to additional billion in expenses.

The Assassin agrees. IF: given a year to prepare. The Avengers are a difficult assignment. A year of preparations should be sufficient.

The purple suited agent balks but the Assassin won’t take the assignment unless given a year to prepare so he agrees.

And as you know, generically code-named assassin the Assassin (what, is this a Fate character?) never fails.

So a year later, Captain America interrupts a jewelry heist by a bunch of people in Captain America masks.

And despite adding insult to armed robbery with the identity theft, Cap is feeling proud. It’s been a long night but he’s been hitting the pushers hard. The melodramatic captioning warns that although it’s been a long night, it’s not over yet!

Also, this chapter of the book is titled “TARGET: CAPTAIN AMERICA” so yeah, his night isn’t over yet.

Anyways, he beats up these fooligans. Demonstrates why you should yield to his mighty shield. And tells them to get it out of their systems when they start shooting his shield instead of anywhere else.

One of the craptains manages to FWRAM! Cap with a trashcan when Cap is distracted thinking clever thoughts to himself. But he manages to WHUMP! right back as the guy approaches him with a knife.

But one of the craptains tries to make a run for it and Cap gives chase, not liking to leave loose ends.

Meanwhile, the Assassin lurks atop a building thinking KEIKAKU DOORI.

Cap throws his mighty shield and trips Agent 7-A (the craptain in a green checkered jacket) and then interrogates him. What’s with the masks, huh?

The Assassin hangs down from a fire escape ladder and says that the masks were to draw Cap’s attention (pretty sneaky, the Assassin) and then shoots Cap with a red raygun.

Oh, but he’s not dead. Not yet. For the Assassin’s cool, amazing masterplan, it’s necessary for Cap to be vainly clinging to a fast-fading spark of life. The Assassin’s plan accounts for everything.

FOR EXAMPLE, the Assassin paid an old woman in a nearby building a thousand dollars to make the call that Captain America has been shot. That way, there’s no suspicious anonymous call-in.

BUT ALSO NO LOOSE ENDS. The thousand dollars were coated with a slow-acting poison that will kill the old woman in a matter of days. And unbeknowst to the craptain Agent 7-A, so has his mask.

The Assassin never leaves anything to chance.

And as Captain America lies dying, the Assassin disappears off into the night’s darkness.

CHAPTER 3: THE SMALL HOURS

Referring to the time between midnight and dawn.

Iron Man and Thor meet at the hospital that Captain America was taken to. And the doctor gives them the awful news: “Captain America is dying -- and we don’t know why!”

Iron Man and Thor secretly consult after the doctor walks off. This is a serious medical situation. Maybe they do the thing they always do and bring in reclusive urban legend doctor Donald Blake?

Thor worries. What if the unknown assailant returns to try again. The Avengers would need Thor’s power then.

I mean, hypothetically. I mean, we know that this is a big plot to kill the Avengers but just because someone takes down Captain America doesn’t mean that they’re after the whole team or that they can tangle with the Avengers that have more potent powers.

In this case its unfounded but justified paranoia.

But Iron Man thinks its just a chance they’ll have to take. ALSO: maybe just the presence of Thor would dissuade further attacks, huh? Like those fake security cameras.

Thor is confused.

Meanwhile, Hawkeye arrives at the hospital, all in a tizzy. He had always thought of Cap as being indestructible despite being made of meat instead of god meat or iron-wrapped meat. So he’s discombobulated.

And also confused. Thor and Iron Man just flew off. They were supposed to be keeping Cap under constant guard. Did they even leave anyone? Geez.

Hawkeye is so discombobulated pondering this that he takes a wrong turn and ends up in the wrong corridor and thus runs into several the Assassin agents who are not thrilled to see him.

They decide to kill him so he can’t warn the others.

Hawkeye makes short work of them but unfortunately, shooting their pew pew gun with a thermal arrow creates a smokescreen that allows the two agents to abscond.

The hospital is searched by hospital security and Hawkeye but the two baddies he tussled with are nowhere to be found.

Meanwhile, inside the hospital room, we do see that Iron Man and Thor didn’t just leave Cap unguarded. There’s Beast, Scarlet Witch, and the Vision. Almost a traffic light, really.

And the three are lost in their thoughts. Beast musing on how the shadow of death has hung over the group since Swordsman died. And Yellowjacket and the Wasp nearly died just weeks ago (which is a bit of a weird continuity hiccup since the two should still be in the hospital. By the time they get out of the hospital, the Avengers had gone on Old West and Brand Quests and wouldn’t be available for this story).

Anyway, Hawkeye makes it to the hospital room and tells them they can go get some rest. He’ll guard the room all by himself. Clearly.

He also says that Cap has “more lives than a sabertooth” which is a bit of a mystifying statement since the sabertooth tiger is extinct and the character Sabretooth, while he does have a tendency to cheat death, also hasn’t been introduced until next year. Your weird 70s slang baffles me, Hawkeye. Take your kewpie dolls and learn to speak 2000s English.

Vision decides to stick around anyway. Since he doesn’t really need to. Sleep.

Hawkeye tries to put on an optimistic face for Vision but all he can think about is how he and Cap used to argue all the time. And how despite all the grief Hawkeye gave him, Cap never gave up on him. Except that one time when he ragequit the team. Remember. Right after the non-Luke Power Man and Enchantress thing turned the public against the Avengers? Cap told the Avengers to go screw and got a job helping boxers train? Only came back because Kang kidnapped the Avengers by pretending their mansion had an extra floor?

But in fairness, grief does things to memory.

Hawkeye concludes that it was Cap who turned a side-show archer (and accidental felon) into an Avenger.

And if Cap doesn’t pull through. Hawkeye is going to teach someone the hard way how that word is defined.

Vision has his own moment of ponderation. Cap is one of the few people who easily accepted him as human. And during that Space Phantom/Grim Reaper thing, when Vision was facing his greatest moral crisis, Cap believed in him and put his life in Vizh’s hands.

Vision also thinks of avengeance.

Meanwhile, the Assassin monitors this on Villain Monitoring Equipment, thinking of the Avengers as unsuspecting fools who don’t realize that its more than just Cap in danger.

The super genius awesome incredible master plan is unfolding perfectly. With the exception of those idiots that let Hawkeye spot them. Those idiots are now dead idiots.

And the Assassin allows a feeling of pity for the Avengers. Death will walk among them this night as the Assassin begins a personal involvement with the next phase of the plan and they have no idea.

DUN DUN DUN!

Wouldn’t it suck to have to wait a month and/or three days?

ROLLING RIGHT TO PART TWO!

April, 1976

Damnit, cover. Cap is already dying. He shouldn’t be running toward a crosshair!

Also not really crazy about “The Better to KILL Them With!” as a cover caption. But don’t really want to dwell on it.

Here’s a fun-esque fact: This cover was used as the cover for Essential Avengers vol 7. Despite being the cover of the second part of a bifurcated King-Size issue that interrupted an on-going narrative.

It is a very striking, pretty cool iconic sort of cover though so I can understand why. It really draws the eye.

Anyway, lets get right back into it.

Continuing the continuity kerfuffle from last time, we see Yellowjacket and the Wasp at... I want to say Avengers Mansion? And Falcon is there. And Beast. And Scarlet Witch.

Sure would be helpful if these people were helping to guard Cap instead of sitting around the mansion crying.

I’ll also note that the Assassin’s little video reel of the Avengers did not include any focus on the Scarlet Witch. Who once summoned a meteor from space.

I’m just saying, definitely something that might be of interest to an Assassin seeking to assassinate the Avengers. They covered Hawkeye for gods-sake.

Wanda complains that she feels so helpless. Cap is dying and there’s nothing they can do. Altering probability probably wouldn’t be helpful right now or in many difficult medical cases! Why there’s just nothing they can do!

While Yellowjacket comforts Scarlet Witch, Beast discusses what is already being done. Reed Richards is working on a theory that Cap was afflicted with a new form of radiation poisoning. Meanwhile,  Bill Foster is working from the biochemical angle.

And while this discussion is going on, unbeknownst to the Avengers but knownst to me and now you, the Avengers are all being viewed through sniper scopes.

On a roof facing Avengers Mansion, some of those Assassin goons are watching the Avengers. The Avengers are so concerned about Captain America that they’ve let their own defenses down.

And as soon as the main targets (presumably the ones at the hospital) are eliminated, C Squad at the mansion will take the shot and wipe out every Avenger not important enough to take an active role in this story for some reason.

But now chapter two: The Better to Kill Them With!

Which I still don’t get. Whatever.

So. The OR for Captain America. They didn’t even take off his costume. I’m glad to see that enigmatic Doctor Donald Black is taking this important medical situation so seriously.

Anyway, off screen, Reed Richards has become convinced that his own theory is the most correct, as Reed Richards is known to do. Cap has been afflicted with an unknown form of radiation poisoning which is causing his body to shut down.

To save him, they need to cut him open and place counter-radiation capsules inside Cap’s body. That’s probably how medicine works?

I don’t actually know.

Thor goes to check on Thor, confirmed to be a Thor Life Model Decoy that Tony Stark made to quash rumors of a connection between Blake and Thor. So he just so happened to have it at a time they needed Blake and Thor at the same time.

Good job, Tony.

Anyway. He also justifies leaving out a bunch of people from this story. All the Avengers wanted to be at the hospital but if all the Avengers kept standing 24-hour watches, they’d be unequipped to handle any new crisis that came up.

It doesn’t seem that the other Avengers are getting any rest anyway but the theory is sound.

It also doesn't explain how the Assassin’s briefing only covered the Avengers that would be present at the hospital, a year after the briefing. That’s some impressive conservation of exposition.

A nurse comes up to offer Iron Man, Hawkeye, and Vision coffee, which two of the three gratefully accept. Since Vision only drinks and acts affected by drugs to be like the cool kids, he doesn’t have time for that in this trying time.

Oh, yeah. Gave the game away a couple panels early.

Yeah. The coffee was drugged. The nurse, sinister.

With Iron Man and Hawkeye woozy from the drugs, the Assassin’s B Squad attacks.

Since Vision isn’t imitating a cool kid this time, he offers to take the brunt of the attack.

But even so. Hawkeye barely arrows a single person before collapsing. And the goons take advantage of Iron Man’s woozy state to gas him, which is enough to overcome him. Down he goes.

Some more of B squad sneak up on Thor (secretly an LMD, true believers) and SHRAKK! him with a laser rifle. Even as powerful as the weapon is, they don’t expect to kill him. Just get his attention so they can lure him into the generator room and use the full electrical power of New York City to destroy him.

Which seems dubious. Guy channels lightning. But Squirrel Girl (’s evil clone) did determine that even a Thor could be taken out with unexpected and constantly modulating alternating current. So I’ll give the Assassin the benefit of the doubt here.

Anyway, doesn’t matter. The LMD is a lot less durable so instead of a wacky chase scene, we just get a dead LMD which looks a lot like a dead Thor.

Inside the operating room, the medical staff loses its shit because they think they just saw Thor murdered. Actual Thor Donald Blake tells them to lock the door and focus on completely the important operation.

Meanwhile, Vision continues WHUMP! and FWAK!ing the Assassin goons. He’s doing a pretty good job.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t built with eyes in the back of his head which really seems like a design flaw. Gonna blame Ultron. He’s stubbornly human-shaped with his own redesigns, except when he gives himself a rocket instead of a butt.

What I’m getting at is that the Assassin sneaks up behind Vision while he’s distracted and slaps a device onto his cape. The device paralyzes Vision and leaves him unable to shift his density. Unlike the time he got paralyzed by cow lasers and was able to float home.

And now Iron Man, Hawkeye, robot Thor, and Vision are all down.

The poison that Hawkeye and Iron Man ingested will cause instantaneous death once it reaches their hearts. ... From their stomachs? Since they ingested it? So not very instantaneous at all.

Vision is pretty screwed too. The device affixed to him disrupted his entire nervous system but also prevents him from bleeding off any of the solar energy contained within his body. So it will build up and build up until he explodes.

So, hey. He may even kill his friends before the extremely-delayed poison has a chance to.

But something hasn’t gone according to plan. Killing Thor with the blast weapons.

And the Assassin examines the body and realizes that this is not Thor or even his stunt double! Its a robot! Which just verifies what the Assassin was secretly suspecting: Donald Blake and Thor are the same person!

The Assassin sends away the goons to ‘outpost four’ to await further orders and then points a gun at the unsuspecting Donald Blake.

While Thor may be immortal and bulletproof, Blake very isn’t. And since Blake is the only one with the ability to save Captain America, the Assassin will kill two Avengers with one bullet.

AND NOW CHAPTER THREE: Nothing Our Own But Death

I don’t get these chapter titles...

Anyyyyyyway. Before the Assassin can pull the trigger, an arrow goes TWANGG!

Hawkeye is not as dead as previously indicated. In fact, neither of the three Avengers are.

Its really a funny story.

See, when the poison hit Hawkeye’s sensitive stomach, he barfed it up. Preventing it from reaching his heart! Oh, and he’s not sharing but Iron Man didn’t have a heart for the poison to affect.

And then between Hawkeye’s thermal arrows and Iron Man’s gilded muscles, they managed to remove the device affecting Vision.

I mean, it seems to me that since it was just attached to the cape, they could have just taken his cape off of him and he’d be fine but then he wouldn’t look so rad.

The Assassin doesn’t react well to these setbacks but keeps a decent head, kicking Hawkeye with a WHOMP! and pulling a gun on the archer to hold him hostage.

But then Donald Blake does let the door hit Assassin’s ass on the way out. Which is to say, Donald Blake hits the Assassin with the door. And also reports that the operation was a success and Cap is going to live because that is definitely something you can tell within the first minute after a surgery.

So basically, the Assassin has failed to assassin any of the Avengers.

The Assassin goes for a gun but Vision melts it with some of the sweet solar energy and then Iron Man uses his repulsors to shred the Assassin’s costume. Just to make sure no more surprise weapons occur.

Although, there is a surprise. Do you know what the Assassin and the best bounty hunter in space have in common?

Surprise gender reveal.

The Assassin is a woman! Which... isn’t really that surprising. They say that all the best assassins were. Even though they are super hard to code, apparently.

What is surprising, or maybe not really, is that the Assassin was the sinister nurse that served the Avengers poison coffee!

Okay so its all kind of obvious in retrospect. But now I can stop dancing around pronouns.

The Assassin criticizes the Avengers for being shocked that she’s a woman. Haven’t they had badass women on their team like Scarlet Witch (was not allowed to do anything but cry) and Moondragon (Lady Not Appearing In This Picture)? She doesn’t even mention the Wasp because the Avengers book just loves to forget that she exists and isn’t just an accessory Hank Pym brings into battle.

Oh also the Assassin throws a smoke bomb that she had taped to her back and then scarpers. She jumps out a window, making it incredibly obvious that she’s not in the hospital any longer which will only aid the Avengers into getting on her trail sooner than later, and hoofs it towards Avengers Mansion.

Unluckily for her, her radio was destroyed when Iron Man blasted her costume. So she’ll have to run to tell her goons to shoot some Avengers so she can salvage something out of this.

But she runs into her goons on the way, having left position when they didn’t hear from the Assassin.

And when they see a random woman shouting insults and orders and clad in the tatters of the Assassin’s costume, they go ‘oh no we’ve been spotted’ and shoot her.

Just can’t get good help these days forty years ago.

And then the Avengers show up and fight the goons. Its not much of a fight. And because of that no loose ends thing, fourteen of the goons will die in captivity from the poison the Assassin had coated their masks with before Drs. Blake and Pym develop an antidote.

But that’s later. The only person that dies that day is the Assassin, her face twisted in a deathmask of eternal hate. Which the narration speculates may have been directed inward.

And later: more loose ends. That agent that presented the job to the Assassin? He’s confronted by a man named Angelo who seeks revenge for the death of Maria, the Assassin.

The agent confesses that he didn’t even honestly believe she could eliminate the Avengers but she was the best choice for the job - the one with the least slim chances of succeeding.

And with instincts too honed by his life of crime, the agent shoots Angelo before Angelo can shoot him. And then sadly puts the gun to his own head, lamenting the deaths of his son Angelo and his daughter Maria.

Damn. Depressing.

How a life of crime destroys a family, twisting the children and setting parent against child. How like something out of Sopranos except with Captain America. I assume. I never watched Sopranos.

And to think that the Avengers would have all died if it weren’t for Hawkeye’s queasy stomach and Iron Man’s lack of heart.

So. These two issues would have made a good King-Size issue. Or a two-parter that wasn’t in the middle of another story.

I actually quite liked it. It has a good premise. The world’s best assassin, the Assassin, takes a year to plan a foolproof way to kill every Avenger, gets narrowly foiled, and gets hoisted on her own petard.

We don’t really get much into the Assassin. She’s an interesting character. Very different from probably every female villain around this time. Although we don’t really learn much about her other than she’s good at golf and she was born into a life of crime.

I did say she reminded me of Slade Wilson. I think its the chainmail part of the costume, the being hired to kill a team of superheroes and taking a slow methodical approach to it, and a little in the mask. Also, the cover of 145 feels like the kind of cover that Deathstroke would appear on.

I will say that having most of the Avengers sitting around and feeling sorry for themselves at the Mansion made the story feel smaller than I think it was going for. It was a grand plan to assassinate the whole team but only three of them are really active. And one of those three is Hawkeye.

Since the reasoning for not having the entire team at the hospital was in case some crisis sprang up, why not have the Assassin manufacture a crisis to draw some of them off? Have some of them actively investigating Cap’s assailant instead of just having Falcon show up and say no he totally has that covered.

Just feels like too much of the team was sidelined. Moondragon doesn’t even show up. Which is weird because Beast shows up.

I guess I’m just glad that it was Cap who was used as the distressed dude this time instead of using Wasp, again again, or one of the other female Avengers.

Anyway. We get back to the Squadron Supreme storyline next time. Yay!

[cbilluminati]

“WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE MOUSE OF TOMORROW?” MIGHTY MOUSE RETURNS TO COMICS THIS JUNE

Creative Team Welcomes Legendary Cover Artists Alex Ross and Neal Adams

Terrytoons’ animated superhero Mighty Mouse has delighted fans the world over since his first appearance in 1942. Now, Dynamite Entertainment announces his triumphant return to comic books for the first time in nearly 30 years, with a series written by Sholly Fisch, illustrated by Igor Lima, and featuring variant cover artwork for the first issue by industry legends Alex Ross and Neal Adams.

Imagine that the world’s greatest hero has been exiled to another dimension — an alien world, where not even the laws of physics work the way they should. The only person who even believes the hero exists is a young kid whom no one will listen to. And yet, the hero — who just happens to be a cartoon mouse — remains the shining light that this drab, cynical world needs to restore its color and life. Here comes Mighty Mouse to save the day in his most unexpected adventure yet… right here, in the real world!

This summer, Dynamite will celebrate the character’s 75th anniversary with a brand new comic book series for a whole new generation of fans. Mighty Mouse was first conceived in 1942 as a parody of another cape and cowl hero introduced a few years earlier, and went on to star in countless animated films for the better part of the next 20 years, finding a new life on Saturday mornings in the 1960’s.

“One of my favorite things about writing comics is getting the chance to play with characters I’ve loved all my life,” says writer Solly Fisch. “And what’s not to love about Mighty Mouse? Not only is he funny, but of all the super heroes you can name, there aren’t many who dedicate themselves quite so literally to fighting for the (ahem) little guy. When I was a kid, my sister and I used to get up early to watch Mighty Mouse cartoons on TV and, in those prehistoric pre-DVR, pre-streaming days, we’d tide ourselves over between shows by listening to our Mighty Mouse record (yes, on vinyl. I said it was prehistoric.) Decades later, I fell in love with the character all over again, thanks to Ralph Bakshi’s brilliantly insane Mighty Mouse TV series. Now, I get to contribute yet another unique spin on Mighty Mouse, as we bring him rocketing out of Mouseville and into the real world… and couldn’t we all really use someone to come save the day? It’s all pretty cool, and I’m having enormous fun with the series. Hopefully, everyone else will, too! Oh, and did I mention that I can still sing the entire Mighty Mouse theme song by heart? Don’t get me started!”

“Mighty Mouse is one of the greatest standout creations in the history of animation,” says Dynamite CEO and Publisher, Nick Barrucci. “Mighty Mouse was a huge part of my childhood, and has been an influence for many characters since, most famously Osamu Tezuka’ Astro Boy. It’s hard to believe a character so ready-made for comics has been gone from the medium for almost 30 years. I’m thrilled that Dynamite will introduce this American icon to a whole new generation of fans!”

Under license by CBS Consumer Products, Mighty Mouse #1 will be solicited in Diamond Comic Distributors’ April 2017 Previews catalog, the premier source of merchandise for the comic book specialty market, and slated for release in June. Comic book fans are encouraged to reserve copies with their local comic book retailers. Mighty Mouse will also be available for individual customer purchase through digital platforms courtesy of Comixology, Dynamite Digital, iVerse, and Dark Horse Digital.

#gallery-0-4 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 20%; } #gallery-0-4 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Here He Comes to Save the Day; New MIGHTY MOUSE Series Coming in June

“WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE MOUSE OF TOMORROW?” MIGHTY MOUSE RETURNS TO COMICS THIS JUNE Creative Team Welcomes Legendary Cover Artists Alex Ross and Neal Adams…

Here He Comes to Save the Day; New MIGHTY MOUSE Series Coming in June "WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE MOUSE OF TOMORROW?" MIGHTY MOUSE RETURNS TO COMICS THIS JUNE Creative Team Welcomes Legendary Cover Artists Alex Ross and Neal Adams…

[comiccrusaders]

“WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE MOUSE OF TOMORROW?” MIGHTY MOUSE RETURNS TO COMICS THIS JUNE Creative Team Welcomes Legendary Cover Artists Alex Ross and Neal Adams

Terrytoons’ animated superhero Mighty Mouse has delighted fans the world over since his first appearance in 1942. Now, Dynamite Entertainment announces his triumphant return to comic books for the first time in nearly 30 years, with a series written by Sholly Fisch, illustrated by Igor Lima, and featuring variant cover artwork for the first issue by industry legends Alex Ross and Neal Adams.

Imagine that the world’s greatest hero has been exiled to another dimension — an alien world, where not even the laws of physics work the way they should. The only person who even believes the hero exists is a young kid whom no one will listen to. And yet, the hero — who just happens to be a cartoon mouse — remains the shining light that this drab, cynical world needs to restore its color and life. Here comes Mighty Mouse to save the day in his most unexpected adventure yet… right here, in the real world!

#gallery-0-7 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-7 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-7 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-7 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

This summer, Dynamite will celebrate the character’s 75th anniversary with a brand new comic book series for a whole new generation of fans. Mighty Mouse was first conceived in 1942 as a parody of another cape and cowl hero introduced a few years earlier, and went on to star in countless animated films for the better part of the next 20 years, finding a new life on Saturday mornings in the 1960’s.

“One of my favorite things about writing comics is getting the chance to play with characters I’ve loved all my life,” says writer Solly Fisch. “And what’s not to love about Mighty Mouse? Not only is he funny, but of all the super heroes you can name, there aren’t many who dedicate themselves quite so literally to fighting for the (ahem) little guy. When I was a kid, my sister and I used to get up early to watch Mighty Mouse cartoons on TV and, in those prehistoric pre-DVR, pre-streaming days, we’d tide ourselves over between shows by listening to our Mighty Mouse record (yes, on vinyl. I said it was prehistoric.) Decades later, I fell in love with the character all over again, thanks to Ralph Bakshi’s brilliantly insane Mighty Mouse TV series. Now, I get to contribute yet another unique spin on Mighty Mouse, as we bring him rocketing out of Mouseville and into the real world… and couldn’t we all really use someone to come save the day? It’s all pretty cool, and I’m having enormous fun with the series. Hopefully, everyone else will, too! Oh, and did I mention that I can still sing the entire Mighty Mouse theme song by heart? Don’t get me started!”

#gallery-0-8 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-8 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-8 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-8 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

“Mighty Mouse is one of the greatest standout creations in the history of animation,” says Dynamite CEO and Publisher, Nick Barrucci. “Mighty Mouse was a huge part of my childhood, and has been an influence for many characters since, most famously Osamu Tezuka’ Astro Boy. It’s hard to believe a character so ready-made for comics has been gone from the medium for almost 30 years. I’m thrilled that Dynamite will introduce this American icon to a whole new generation of fans!”

Under license by CBS Consumer Products, Mighty Mouse #1 will be solicited in Diamond Comic Distributors’ April 2017 Previews catalog, the premier source of merchandise for the comic book specialty market, and slated for release in June. Comic book fans are encouraged to reserve copies with their local comic book retailers. Mighty Mouse will also be available for individual customer purchase through digital platforms courtesy of Comixology, Dynamite Digital, iVerse, and Dark Horse Digital.

MIGHTY MOUSE RETURNS TO COMICS THIS JUNE, COURTESY OF DYNAMITE! "WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE MOUSE OF TOMORROW?" MIGHTY MOUSE RETURNS TO COMICS THIS JUNE Creative Team Welcomes Legendary Cover Artists Alex Ross and Neal Adams…

[tessatechaitea]

Justice Society of America #8

Oh no! Hate! It must be stopped!

That caption sounded sarcastic, didn't it? It sort of sounds like a centrist arguing against somebody saying something that nobody should be on the other side of. "Of course Black Lives Matter! Nobody is saying they don't! Why even bother bringing it up?! You're just causing trouble!" is the kind of thing that has made me hate people who identify as "non-political" or "centrist" or "libertarian" or "Proud Husband. Father. Christian." Nobody needs to hear from you if the only thing you have to say is that nobody needs to be fighting for the things they need to be fighting for! "If it's already a crime, why do we need more stringent laws for punishing crimes motivated by hate. Aren't all criminal acts hateful?" says the person ignoring reality for their own selfish interests of which I can't even begin to guess. Enough about people who have chosen to be non-people. Let's discuss a comic book from 1993 that probably takes a stronger stance against fascism than a frightening large number of Americans today.

This advert on the inside front cover would be better if the picture over "very rare" was a cow. I mean, it wouldn't work for baseball cards but I would like it better.

I think the best part about actually living in a world where superheroes are real is that day in 5th Grade when Hawkman and Hawkwoman visit your class to talk about Egyptian archaeology. The issue begins by catching up with Hawkman and Hawkwoman as they continue their quest to steal Egyptian cultural artifacts. You have to give them a pass on this though! In 1993, people just believed archaeology was a thrilling way to bring treasures into museums for everybody to share! It's not like we had hundreds of years to reflect on how terrible this practice was. You have to do some cultural math by subtracting the number of years Western culture believed whatever it did was right and just from, I don't, negative 100? Do you think we'll have learned some humbleness and respect in one hundred years? Most kids who grew up in the 70s wanted to be boring ass truck drivers but by the 80s, thanks to Indiana Jones, they wanted to be boring ass archaeologists. Kids aren't the greatest at determining what a fun adult job might be. Did you know there are people who get angry at the supposition that digging up and taking cultural artifacts and treasures from other countries to bring back to your own might be theft? Generally they're the same type of people who believe that all advances to civilization were brought about by white culture. They hold this opinion through absolutely no evidence at all. How do I know they don't have any evidence? Because if they looked for evidence, they'd wind up reading history and realize their claim was too ludicrous to continue defending.

You might think Hawkgirl is commenting on the gigantic sarcophagus the native archaeologists are opening but I know she's making an innuendo about Hawkman's cock because she's doing that thing with her hat where she lifts it up and down and waggles her eyebrows.

It's not really much of a joke though because nobody expects Hawkman's penis to be as large as a fifty foot long sarcophagus. I mean, I'm sure it's big but it's not going to be unwieldy! It's probably almost exactly the same size and shape as his mace. Interlude: here are some Facebook posts I made on several different July 26thes because I guess I think of it as a holiday to entertain my future self every July 26th? Whatever the case, I love Past Me more than Future Me and possibly even more than Present Me. Because of the Hays Code, Alfred Fatcock had to change his name to keep making films. How patriotic would you consider a person who got a flag pregnant? War Games is my favorite movie because it taught me that trying is pointless. The first item on my bucket list is to buy a bucket. End of Interlude. Can you tell I'm stalling because maybe eight issues of this comic book was too much? Here's an adult riddle: What's twenty-five feet long, wrapped in bandages, and has an eye in the middle of its head?

This guy's penis!

I don't recognize the guy with three eyes but I'm sure he's some immortal wizard named Amn Thoth or something. While the Carters discover ancient mummy curses, Johnny Quick tries to convince Rex that his hour of strength doesn't come from a drug at all but deep inside him. He doesn't need to pop pills to be a superhero; he just needs to balance his chakras and figure out his mantra. Then he'll tap into some deep spiritual part of himself that is probably just a meta(l)gene and whammo! Hourman is back and straight edge! But Rex doesn't buy it. Especially since learning his mantra isn't going to cure his son's cancer (which he got from taking Miraclo). Also in the hospital is Wesley Dodd who is doing therapy to recover from his stroke. Plus his friend Bishop Tumutuu who was some guy who fought against Apartheid. And because the Bishop is in the hospital, the white supremacists are gathering outside to not wish him well.

Shouldn't they hear what they have to say and debate them to better strengthen their own side of the argument on why all people should have equal opportunity with all rights and freedoms promised by this country?

I'm absolutely for freedom of all speech. But the problem that the American media and a lot of people on the Internet have fallen into is the idea that all speech needs to be discussed and debated equally. That's the whole "freedom of speech" trap. Whenever somebody on Twitter wants to debate some terrible topic that nearly all kind and forward thinking people realize is a monstrous and terrible idea and you simply mock them for their terrible beliefs or tell them to shut up, they think you're clamping down on their free speech. No, sir. You were able to say the stupid thing you wanted to say. What you actually want is for a Constitutional Amendment that forces me tor respect what you said and debate it as if the matter has yet to be resolved. The media does this all the time by allowing both sides of an opinion to debate which only legitimizes the side with the terrible take. Sure, we should allow racists to go on CNN and declare their stance on race relations. But the people on the other side shouldn't be debating that topic with them. They should just laugh at them and point and tell them how terrible they are. Maybe get some of that slime from You Can't Do That on Television for rebuttals. Freedom of speech needs way more mockery and far less debate if it's going to recover. Hourman responds to the white supremacists with a "None of my business!" because he's a terrible centrist who believes that if the status quo isn't making his life rough, why rock the boat? Also his son is dying of cancer so maybe he's a bit distracted. I shouldn't be so hard on him when he's wracked with the guilt of probably killing his son with his drugs. The white supremacists begin making trouble so it's time for the JSA to put an end to hate! Or will hate win out? I mean, this comic book was written in 1993 and I don't feel like hate has backed down.

Sure, he's against metahumans now. But just wait until one of them decides to wear on of those stupid hats and silly robes!

Watching the speedsters begin to get pummeled by the huge mass of white supremacists, Hourman accidentally balances his chakras! He's suddenly powerful without the drugs or the black lights or the Doctor Fate deep muscle massages! Now if he can convince his son that the power of Miraclo has been inside him all along, his son will have the strength to battle the cancer! Why did I use an exclamation point on that previous sentence when I don't really fucking care about Rex Tyler and his son! Hourman crashes out of the hospital window to save Johnny Quick. He lets Jesse do her own thing because he's heard about women's lib and also she's not an old man whose powers have significantly dwindled over time.

My adrenal gland just got bigger too!

In the end, the Bishop is saved and even Wesley Dodd joins the fight! Or he just absentmindedly shot off his sandman gun and coincidentally put the Bishop's assassin to sleep. It's hard to tell since he's still suffering from his retirement party stroke. The issue ends with Green Lantern surfing the television when he comes upon Carter Hall's interview program where he's interviewing the mummy they dug up, a man named Edmund Kulak. Since Green Lantern recognizes him, I guess he's one of the JSA's foes. According to the Who's Who, Kulak can use his third eye to cause everybody on Earth to hate each other. I guess that's why the white supremacists were acting up (and also wearing eyes on their hats and robes). Having a magical reason for racism is always a better comic book story than acknowledging a lot of people are racist of their own free will. Imagine all the angry letters that the pre-Comicsgate generation would have had to write in! "I'm not racist but I don't think you should portray all white people as racist because that is racist! Logic for the win!" That might seem like I created a 1993 Strawman but have you read the letters reacting to the Tales of the Teen Titans Spotlight on Starfire about Apartheid? My pretend letter was practically verbatim of one or two of the letters Mike Gold had to respond to on that series! Justice Society of America #8 Rating: B-. I think I've read enough old stories about old people fighting immortals. The whole mortality angle is really bringing me down!

[outright-geekery]

“WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE MOUSE OF TOMORROW?” MIGHTY MOUSE RETURNS TO COMICS THIS JUNE

Creative Team Welcomes Legendary Cover Artists Alex Ross and Neal Adams

Terrytoons’ animated superhero Mighty Mouse has delighted fans the world over since his first appearance in 1942. Now, Dynamite Entertainment announces his triumphant return to comic books for the first time in nearly 30 years, with a series written by Sholly Fisch, illustrated by Igor Lima, and featuring variant cover artwork for the first issue by industry legends Alex Ross and Neal Adams.

Imagine that the world’s greatest hero has been exiled to another dimension — an alien world, where not even the laws of physics work the way they should. The only person who even believes the hero exists is a young kid whom no one will listen to. And yet, the hero — who just happens to be a cartoon mouse — remains the shining light that this drab, cynical world needs to restore its color and life. Here comes Mighty Mouse to save the day in his most unexpected adventure yet… right here, in the real world!

This summer, Dynamite will celebrate the character’s 75th anniversary with a brand new comic book series for a whole new generation of fans. Mighty Mouse was first conceived in 1942 as a parody of another cape and cowl hero introduced a few years earlier, and went on to star in countless animated films for the better part of the next 20 years, finding a new life on Saturday mornings in the 1960’s.

“One of my favorite things about writing comics is getting the chance to play with characters I’ve loved all my life,” says writer Solly Fisch. “And what’s not to love about Mighty Mouse? Not only is he funny, but of all the super heroes you can name, there aren’t many who dedicate themselves quite so literally to fighting for the (ahem) little guy. When I was a kid, my sister and I used to get up early to watch Mighty Mouse cartoons on TV and, in those prehistoric pre-DVR, pre-streaming days, we’d tide ourselves over between shows by listening to our Mighty Mouse record (yes, on vinyl. I said it was prehistoric.) Decades later, I fell in love with the character all over again, thanks to Ralph Bakshi’s brilliantly insane Mighty Mouse TV series. Now, I get to contribute yet another unique spin on Mighty Mouse, as we bring him rocketing out of Mouseville and into the real world… and couldn’t we all really use someone to come save the day? It’s all pretty cool, and I’m having enormous fun with the series. Hopefully, everyone else will, too! Oh, and did I mention that I can still sing the entire Mighty Mouse theme song by heart? Don’t get me started!”

“Mighty Mouse is one of the greatest standout creations in the history of animation,” says Dynamite CEO and Publisher, Nick Barrucci. “Mighty Mouse was a huge part of my childhood, and has been an influence for many characters since, most famously Osamu Tezuka’ Astro Boy. It’s hard to believe a character so ready-made for comics has been gone from the medium for almost 30 years. I’m thrilled that Dynamite will introduce this American icon to a whole new generation of fans!”

Under license by CBS Consumer Products, Mighty Mouse #1 will be solicited in Diamond Comic Distributors’ April 2017 Previews catalog, the premier source of merchandise for the comic book specialty market, and slated for release in June. Comic book fans are encouraged to reserve copies with their local comic book retailers. Mighty Mouse will also be available for individual customer purchase through digital platforms courtesy of Comixology, Dynamite Digital, iVerse, and Dark Horse Digital.

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Here He Comes to Save the Day; New MIGHTY MOUSE Series Coming in June "WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE MOUSE OF TOMORROW?" MIGHTY MOUSE RETURNS TO COMICS THIS JUNE Creative Team Welcomes Legendary Cover Artists Alex Ross and Neal Adams…