#that drawing of him in the bottom right is my new favourite thing btw like just ever

[portrait-of-a-moron]

Hi tumblr. Bye Tumblr.

Monsters & Mana my beloved.

[eldritchmochi]

yeah I am pretty young lmao, I'll spare you from another playlist by just naming some artists that gave me inspiration for god knows at some point

first off you mentioned Hozier, which I kinda only mention because he released a new album recently. Arctic Monkeys and Father John Misty are kinda in the same boat as him. More like the same lake.

The Amazing Devil and The Oh Hellos never fail to give me some sort of D&D/character inspiration. Ghost does?? something??? as well with characters, but specific ones. Same with Steam Powered Giraffe.

other than that, Library Magic by The Head And The Heart is very Wizard, along with The Magician by Andy Shauf. and because I just can't go without mentioning it, Queen is my favorite band. :)

that's all! with any luck it'll end up being useful somehow lol

hozier is one of those artists who i dont listen to on purpose like ever i dont thinki could name a single song of his with confidence BUT i know his voice starkly as one i really lusted after pre-t. i saw he just dropped a new album and i HAVE to give it a listen to especially the video of sssomething or other (full album mv??? pLEASE) because it stars domnall gleeson and i am still horny for that man even after all these years (he's the actor for hux for context lmao)

queen is also one of my long time favs, though definitely a band i dont know in and out the way i do with a lot of more modern punk bands lmao. freddie has and always will be Gender (god the video for i want to break free was IT for me in like 8th grade right around when i came out)

ive seen spg live before!! they are *great* experience even if you're not deep into the lore (i had friends who were big lore fans). i have heard precisely One And A Half Ghost Songs and im keeping it that way on purpose because its just sooooooo funny that im not into them because aesthetically they are way up my alley (and one of my sibs, a number of irl buddies, and MANY artists i follow are all nuts for them)

ive some passing familiarity with the artic monkeys, enough that i can pick out a number of their more popular songs on the radio even if i cant name them (i am garbage at song titles tho so)

i'll have to check out the rest, especially good Wizards Songs 👀

in response!! further things to check out:

FUNKY.FM - playlist by alexmoukala who is one of my FAVOURITE video game composers. i know him primarily through twitter where he posts snippets of remixed or reimagined video game music... but FUNKY (this one is particularly relevant to u based of ur playlist shared w me)

ye old spooky club 1995 - playlist by unnerving governess who i am 90% sure is gothic charmschool. i know i got the link thru her but i thiiink she also made it (another playlist that may vibe w u based off your playlist)

creature feature, especially the album "the greatest show unearthed" (ookey spooky rock with a lot of vincent price era horror camp and a lot of really impressive technical skill. i want it to be halloween damnit)

the mind electric by the miracle musical (behold, the essence of the inside of my brain but in tangible form. it is. incredibly ominous. do recommend headphones for max goosebumps (includes a lot of records played backwards type sounds and other distortions))

dance monkey by tones and i (one of my big essek songs since i get a lot of that vibe where he's beholden to his station for *so much* that its a disservice to his growth as a person)

bottom is a rock by mother mother (my m9 as a whole song. the chorus has a line for each of them i stg and if i could reliably draw i would do an old school lyricstuck to it)

my verdict on ur playlist btw is that it is very solid and cohesive a+, but *just* to the left of my tastes, largely because a lot of it skews 70s/80s which just by nature of the beast lacks the bass i like (because it was mixed entirely different compared to modern music, which is better suited for sounding big when played digitally through smaller speakers. ive heard some of these bands on big sound systems and theyre MUCH more in line with my tastes then lmao)

[your-anxious-nightmare]

Adventures In Dad-ing (14)

Summary: The aftermath of Patton leaving. (This one's a little jumpy, so the beginning is obvi a little later than the bulk of the chapter sorry, I didn’t like the way it looked around the other way and wanted to preface where Virge is at first.) (Darwin is my Deceit btw) Word Count: 3365 Relationships: All platonic stuff, kinda parental analogical.  Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen,  (because I know this has problems, look up the tag ‘adventures in dading’ or ‘dad Virgil’ on my blog archive and you’ll find all of them) Tags:  @katatles-the-fish   @karma-the-tax-collector    @analogical-mess   @rebeyerfdog  @msu82       (ask to be tagged xoxoxo) Warnings: Kinda neglectful parenting, lemme know if there's other stuff Ao3

Three days.

There was no patter of feet in the hallway. No giggles from the kitchen as cookies were stolen. There were no cartoons or musicals or singing. The house was quiet, and so was Virgil’s heart. 

On the first day, Virgil spent the vast majority of time curled up on the couch cradling a teary-eyed Logan as he himself was held against Roman’s chest. 

On the second day, Roman had gone back to work, dropping Virgil off on his way in. Remy was nice enough to put him on cleaning, keeping him away from the harsh gazes of customers. Emile had even come in to bring him a cooked lunch, offering a hug and a shoulder when he began to cry. 

On the third day, Virgil was silent. His workday was slow, only spent clearing up old plates and wiping down tables. He ignored Roman’s texts asking if he wanted him over for dinner. By the time he got home, he was too tired to kick off his shoes before falling face-first onto the couch. 

That was where Logan found him hours later. 

The young boy had tried to stay home, knowing that his being around might not help Virgil cope with the temporary loss of his son. But unfortunately, his step-father had noticed his presence was more apparent and kicked him out. With nowhere else to go, he shuffles down to the Casey residence and knocks lightly before letting himself in with the spare key under the mat. 

It was after 7 pm, Logan had expected to walk into Virgil eating alone at the table or watching something on the tv, not sobbing loudly into the couch holding a cushion as though his life depended on it. 

“Mr Pa-um, Mr Virgil?” Perhaps calling him Mr Patton’s Dad isn’t the best of ideas right about now, Logan thinks, stepping closer to the couch where Virgil lay. 

“Logan?” The man sits up, wiping away his tears to look at the boy. “Are you alright?” His blue eyes scan the boy’s face, taking note of the scratch on his jaw and the small drops of blood still falling from his nose onto his shirt.

“Are you?” Virgil snorts, standing to usher the boy into the bathroom and pulling out the first aid kit. He quickly cleans up the cut, instructing Logan to hold a tissue to his nose until the bleeding stops. 

“Have you had dinner yet?” Logan shakes his head, blinking up at the man through his still broken glasses. “Okay, how do sausages and chips sound?” He nods slightly, tilting his head so Virgil can put a bandaid over the mark and removes the tissue from his face, wiping any mess and disposing of it quickly. 

“Come on, you can help me cook. I’ll teach you.” 

**

It was safe to say Patton was scared from the moment he climbed into the back seat of the car. He watched his dad fade from sight, hands and face pressed against the window and tears pooling in his cool blue eyes. 

“Um, it’s nice to meet you. What’s-”

“Shut it, this is my favourite song.” Meghann’s hand raises to hush the boy before turning up the stereo far above what a sane person could withstand. 

“Ow. Can it be quieter, please? It’s hurting my ears.” Whether she hears or not is a mystery as she sings along to the pop ballad, turning just slightly dangerously through the streets. 

The drive to her house isn’t too long, but with all the red lights and close calls, it feels like a lifetime to the young boy in the back. 

Meghann pulls into an underground carpark, slamming on the brakes and stopping before Patton's eyes can adjust to the new lighting. She’s out of the car quickly, slamming her door shut and wandering off to the elevator, turning to look expectantly at the boy who was pulling his backpack off the seat next to him. 

“Come on then, we don’t have all day.” Patton jumps out of the vehicle, closing the door nicely and running to catch up, ducking into the elevator seconds before the doors closed and watching as she swipes a card and presses the button labelled 9. 

“What’s your name?” He tries again, adjusting the straps of his bag and holding out his hand like he’d seen the adults do. 

“Ew, no contact. It’s Meghann.” She grimaces at his hand, stepping away slightly and staring at the door. 

“Would you like me to call you Meghann? Or maybe Mum or Mama or-”

“Stop. Talking. Just call me Meghann, no Mum or Mother or whatever bullshit like that.” The door slides open and she saunters out into the hall, Patton running to keep up and meeting her at a door at the end of the hall. 

She opens the door to a modern living room, all the furniture in matching blue and white, all neatly situated in nice squares and perfect lines. The room opens out into the kitchen where a solid white bar separates the space and a set of blue stools sit in front. The only thing that makes the room pop are the clothes littering the floor and the various takeaway boxes piled on the counter, dishes sit in the sink, undone. It looks like a very lived-in room.

“This is a very nice home.” Patton pipes up, following her down the hall and awing at a cute picture of a cat on the wall. She doesn’t answer, just huffs and pushes open the last door in the hall. 

Inside is a small, beaten bed that looks a little older than Patton, pressed up against the back wall and a desk about the same size as the ones he uses at school. The room is barely big enough for both objects, with maybe half a metre between the end of the bed and the wall and a metre between it and the door. 

“This is your room, make yourself at home, I guess.” She turns on her heel and walks back down the hall, opening another door and vanishing inside. Patton sighs and puts his bag on the bed, coughing at the dust it kicks up before remembering he hadn’t grabbed the boxes from the boot of the car. Leaving the room and pulling the door over, he wanders down towards where Meghann vanished, finding her in a large bedroom full of books and knick-knacks. 

“Meghann? My toys and clothes are still in your car.” He knocks lightly on the door, choosing to look at his feet instead of her as she spins to face him

“Go get them then? It’s unlocked.” 

Patton looks up, eyes wide with confusion. “By myself?” Virgil never let him go out alone, mainly because the last time he did he got lost and ended up crying in a park. Meghann just nods and turns back to her dresser, adjusting her hair. 

Patton turns and leaves, stopping by his room to pick up his dinosaur for protection and heading out the front door. Taking a deep breath, he sets off down the hall, reaching the elevator and getting in. He presses the button with a car drawing and waits, watching the doors sit open. He presses the button again, and again, before looking up to the swipe pad next to it. 

Wandering back to the apartment, he counts the doors, one, two three, stopping at the fifth and trying to open it, finding it had locked behind him. He knocks lightly, waiting patiently for Meghann to open it. 

“The elevator didn’t work without your card. May I borrow it?” She looks down at him with distaste, pulling her cell phone from her ear to talk to him. 

“There are stairs for a reason, kid.” She laughs loudly, slamming the door shut, just barely missing his fingers on the wall. Patton jumps, not used to the loud noise and steps back, tripping on his laces and falling to the ground in the hall. 

“I don’t think I like it here, Fluffy.” He mumbles, picking up the plush dinosaur before heading back towards the elevator, finding the staircase to the left and starting his descent. 

By the time he reaches the bottom, his legs hurt and he’s out of breath, so Patton takes a seat on the bottom stair and catches his breath. After a few moments, he steps towards the car park, staying close to the cars like his dad taught him and searching for the car amongst the others. 

When Patton finally finds the right car- he recognized a sticker that had a bad word in the back window- he tugs on the boot, pulling at it roughly in an attempt to get it open. 

“Hey, kid!” A voice shouts, Patton dropping his toy and spinning around to see an older man stalking over. “What do you think you're doing?” His hair is long and tied up in a bun like Virgil’s often is, but far greasier and untidy. A scruffy beard lines his jaw, and his dark eyes glare down at the small boy like a starved wild animal.

“I just moved here with my Mum, but my clothes are in the boot. Can you help me open it?” 

“Oh, Paddy right? You’re Meghann’s brat?” He laughs loudly, the sound like nails to a chalkboard. “I’ll see you ‘round kid. Don’t scratch the car, it costs more than you’ll make in a decade.” 

“Sir? Could you please help?” The man just cackles again and wanders off to the elevator, disappearing inside as quickly as he appeared in the first place. 

Patton stares at the door to the elevator for several moments, slowly thinking through all the things he could’ve done wrong to deserve being left out here all alone. 

Was it that time he didn’t hold the door open for Mr Phillips? He had his arms full of books but Patton was carrying his show and tell project and couldn’t get a free hand. Was it the time he didn’t let Archie borrow his orange crayon? The boy had shoved his green one up his nose the week earlier so it was probably justified. 

Turning and kicking the car once, Patton sits on the ground against the wheel, Fluffy the Dinosaur sat in his lap. Why would you leave a child to collect his things from your car without telling him how to do so? Without warning, tears start to stream down his cheeks. 

“I want to go home!” He cries loudly, furiously scrubbing at his cheeks. 

“Hello? Is someone there?” A voice calls through the parking garage. Patton sniffs loudly, curling up in a ball around his toy and waiting for the person to leave. 

“Hello?” They call again, footsteps echoing across the concrete. “I know you’re there, I heard you crying. My guess is you’re only a kid too. I promise I’m not gonna hurt you, ah, wait that sounds bad. Hang on, I didn’t mean it like I would and I’m tryna trap you but, um, dammit. This isn’t working.” Patton sits up, leaning his head around the edge of the car to find a familiar teen with bright orange hair and a studded jacket shuffling his feet between the rows of cars. 

“Toby?” Patton calls, standing slowly and watching his babysitter look up. 

“Patton? What are you doing here? Where’s Mr C?” Another sob leaves the boy’s mouth and, before he can step any closer, Tobias catches an arm full of sobbing child. 

“Hey, little man, it’s okay. What happened?” The boy simply shakes his head, wrapping his arms tighter around the teen's waist. They stand there for several minutes, Tobias awkwardly smiling at passing cars as Patton clings to him for dear life. 

“Pat? Can you tell me why you’re here alone?” He asks, crouching down to the boy’s height despite the stabbing of the spikes on the back of his boots. 

“I live with my mum now.” He whispers, clinging tightly to Tobias’s jacket with one hand and Fluffy with the other. 

“Okay, and why are you down here by yourself? I know you're a big kid but it’s not safe to be here this late alone.” 

“Meghann, my Mum, didn’t bring my stuff up so I had to come to get it but I can’t get the car open and I just want Papa back.” Patton sniffs, rubbing at his eyes as the fatigue sets in. 

“Which car? I can help you.” Patton takes the punk’s hand and leads him over. Tobias reaches inside the front seat, tugging on a lever insistently before returning to Patton’s side, tugging on the boot as well. 

“It needs the key. Don’t tell anyone I did this okay?” Patton nods as he watches his babysitter pull a small pouch out of his jacket pocket, taking two metal objects and poking at the keyhole until the boot pops open. 

“You’re a magician.” Patton awes, smiling as Tobias pushes the boot open further. 

“Not a magician, sadly, just been in a few situations myself.” Together the two pull out the few boxes Patton had brought, stacking them at the bottom of the stairs. Tobias’s phone starts to ring, the boy sighing deeply before answering. 

“Hey, yeah I know something came up. Can’t I just come later? Yeah, yeah, I know. Okay, I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up, taking a deep breath and clenching his fists a few times before crouching back beside Patton. 

“Do you have someone to help you take these up?” Patton shakes his head and Tobias sighs again. “Okay. Let’s get these in the elevator.” 

“But it needs a card.” He pipes up, pushing the box of clothes across the floor. Tobias pulled the remaining three on top, pulling out his own swipe card from his wallet. “Wait, do you live here too?” 

“I do. What floor’s your Mum’s place?” 

“Nine. She doesn’t want me to call her Mum.” Patton hugs his dinosaur tightly as the elevator rises, ignoring Tobias’s concerned look. When they reach the ninth floor, Tobias's phone rings again, this time with a loud bell ringtone that makes his eyes blow wide. 

“Shit, Pat, I’m really sorry but I can't help you get these down there. This is my number- if you need anything, call me. I’ll come to check on you in when I can, okay?” Tobias gives him a tight hug, pressing a piece of paper into his hand and helping him get the boxes out of the elevator before saying goodbye again. 

“Bye Toby.” Patton waves sadly as the doors close, leaving him alone in the hall again. He tucks the paper into his pocket, pushing the first box down the hall noisy and leaving it by the door, returning to find a child poking at the box of books like it’s a new type of animal. 

“Oh, hello. My name is Patton.” The child looks up, startled, and scampers behind a pot plant, hiding almost successfully due to their small size. 

“It’s okay, I’m not gonna be mean. What’s your name?” Patton steps closer, trying to get the child to come out but receiving a small hiss in response. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk to me. I have to take this box down to my new house so I’m gonna leave my dinosaur here to keep you company okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

True to his word, Patton places the dinosaur on the ground around the other side of the pot, where the child can see it, before pushing another box down the hall. This one takes a bit longer than the first because of the weight, books and toys aren’t light. 

When he returns, the child is back next to the remaining two boxes, playing with the dinosaur like it’s an aeroplane. 

“His name is Fluffy. He’s a steg-o-saw-rus.” Patton sounds out the word, remembering how Mr Phillips had pointed to each part in class. The child looks up, mismatched gold and brown eyes staring up at him with curiosity. They have messy auburn hair falling over their eyes, long enough to reach their shoulders, and freckles dusted over their face and neck. 

“What’s your name?” The child shakes their head, looking back down at the dinosaur in their hands. 

“Can you not talk?” Patton asks carefully, gaining a small nod as their response. “That’s okay, I’ve been told I talk enough for me and my friend so I can talk for you too. Can you spell your name?” 

The child looks up slowly, pulling a face before nodding. Patton steps up to the box nearest to him, pulling open the top and taking out his letter board. It’s made from a whiteboard and has a little basket of letter magnets attached to the side.

"My Papa got me this to learn to spell. You can use it to talk to me if you'd like?" He watches the child think a little, setting the dinosaur aside and taking the whiteboard, using a pen to write in shaky letters. 

"Darwin? That's a nice name." Darwin smiles a little, looking down at the ground and playing with a pulled thread. "How old are you? I'm 9." Darwin slowly uncaps the pen again and draws a number 8, looking up through his fringe at Patton, who smiles softly down at him. 

"We can have play dates then. My friend Logan and I do that all the time, we go to the park and he comes and watches movies with us, would you like that?" Darwin nods again, shyly playing with the dinosaur again. Patton smiles triumphantly, moving to the other side of the boxes and starting to push them down the hall. 

After only a few metres, he's out of breath and tired, Darwin still watching silently with Fluffy in his hands. He stands slowly, shuffling over and putting his hands on the boxes, grunting a little as he pushes them forward. 

"Oh, thank you, you don't have to help." Darwin nods quickly, pushing the boxes again with all his might. Together, the boys get them down the hall and place them at the door, panting with exhaustion. 

"Thank you, Darwin, that would've taken me forever." Patton steps up to the door, trying the handle before knocking, just in case Meghann had been kind enough to unlock it for him. Only silence answers, so he knocks again a little louder, smiling nervously at Darwin behind his stuff. 

"What do you, oh, took you long enough." Meghann rips open the door, glancing down at Patton before spotting his new friend behind the boxes. "Did you multiply, who's this?" 

"This is Darwin, he's my new friend, can he come play?" Meghann looks between the two. Even with her cold, dead heart, she can't help but melt at the puppy eyes Patton gives her. 

"Not tonight, Paddy, it's late and you look like me after a night out. Tomorrow, if his parents agree." Patton thanks her loudly and starts to ramble to the boy about all the things they can do, earning a groan from the woman at the door. "Okay, too loud, enough sappy shit. Get your stuff inside, there's shit for a sandwich on the bench for dinner." She turns and walks back inside, ignoring the kids once again but this time with the door open. 

"I'll see you tomorrow? You can come over after lunch?" Darwin nods quickly, pointing at the boxes and then inside. "I can get them to my room from here, it's not nearly as far as the elevator." Patton holds open his arms for a hug, gaining a small shake from the boy as he holds up a hand. "High five then" Patton laughs, lightly hitting their hands against each other. 

Darwin smiles beneath his hair, patting the dinosaur in his arms and handing him back, waving as he wanders off down the hall again. 

With a smile on his face and his friend gone, Patton drags the boxes one by one into his new room, collapsing on his bed as soon as he's done and falling asleep instantly. 

[kachulein]

Ah your bias is minghao too? 💜I am new to seventeen, maybe show me and your followers your fave minghao pics? 💖

Yes, indeed. He is one of my top biases and such a precious bean that I love. And I'll gladly show you (and everyone else who's interested) my favourite Hao pics!^-^💖 (beware: many pics ahead)

[ click for better resolution ]

Let's start off simple; his black hair. I loved, loved, loved it sooo much. I've been biasing Hao since summer 2016 and I've always wondered if he ever dyes his hair black. One day in early 2018 I was like "if Minghao ever dyes his hair black, he'll be the death of me." And funnily enough, not long after, I woke up one morning to airport pics of him with black hair. Here's some of my favourite black hair!Hao looks.

When talking about his black hair, I definitely cannot miss him in Call Call Call MV. Not only is the song a whole bop and I love the MV aesthetic, Minghao was also slaying the biker look and making me weak (black hair, leather & jeans jackets are some things that make me weak, so thanks a lot Hao✊😪🔥).

Another era I loved was Thanks, because I was honestly living for his mullet and his hair looked so fluffy, which I loved a lot. He's so beautiful!! I want to run my hands through his hair and btw, I even made a drawing of the bottom right pic in the left collage because I loved the look so much. :')

I'm a bit biased because holy moly, the Diamond Edge world tour in 2017 served us some of my favourite Hao looks ever.😭🤧 Let us start with Minghao showing his beautiful forehead and the bottom middle pic that is just so iconic and pretty.

Then look at all those pics of him in a tank top and a bandana. Have I mentioned that I am also weak for tank tops and bandanas? Because I am✊🤧

I have so many Diamond Edge photos saved of Minghao, therefore I couldn't decide which ones to show. :') I hope you don't mind the spam.

Another Diamond Edge look I loved was him in his torn sweater, that was such a rude look but he still looked so ethereal and just ??? heavenly tbh🤧

Jesus, I'm weak

Then there's also some pics I loved seeing, which are him with brown fluffy hair. When I saw these airport pics I probably stared at them for ages because he looks so beautiful when he pushes his hair back. And the other two in the middle are so cute and precious and I just want to cuddle him.

Also, he's such a fashionista with his 8fashion~

And last but not least, some more looks I loved. The silver/white hair colour in early 2017(? I think) was so iconic same as the red one (my dumbass hasn't included a pic of that I'm sorry ;-;). Then the brown-haired pic was during Don't Wanna Cry era when he exposed his tattoo and this is one of my favourite pics.

I even included some blonde!Hao from teen,age era even though I normally don't like blonde hair but he pulls it off so beautifully. And then the bottom two pics are just so cute and pretty and I had the left one as my wallpaper for months :')

[ diclaimer: none of the pictures belong to me. Credit goes to the rightful owners. ]

[mexcine2]

Everybody Loves a Clown, So Why Don’t You? (Super-Mystery Comics 4/4, October 1944)  

When did the “scary clown” trope begin? Perhaps there have always been people who found clowns disconcerting and frightening, but the popular culture image of clowns seems to have been (generally) benign for many years.  There were exceptions, and since we’re discussing 1940s (“Golden Age,” if you want to sound like an expert) comics in this essay, consider the multitude of clown villains (alright, maybe half a dozen), not even counting The Joker (who isn’t exactly a clown, but looks like one).  Who fought bad clowns?  Bozo the Robot (in 1941; I wonder if this was somehow subliminally responsible for the later “Bozo the Clown?”), Mr. Scarlet (“The Black Clown”), Green Hornet, Madame Satan (“The Jester,” that’s a kind of clown, right?) the Star Spangled Kid (and Stripsey!), and the Bouncer, to name a few.  [On the heroic side we’ve got “The Clown” who lasted for a mere 2 issues in 1941, and “The Jester,” who had an 8-year run from 1941-49.]

But, after the Joker, the most successful (if, by “successful,” you mean having your sinister plans repeatedly foiled, often getting a savage beating for good measure) clown villain was “The Clown,” the nemesis of Magno and Davey.  Magno and Davey were a super-hero duo for lesser comics publisher Ace, and appeared in 47 (well, Davey was there for 44) stories between 1940 and 1947, mostly in Super-Mystery Comics but with a run in Four Favorites as well.  They met “The Clown” in 24 (51%) of their adventures!  Now that’s a nemesis!

The Clown originally wore a yellow outfit with a green ruffed-collar, belt and boots (over striped boxer shorts, as revealed in one story), although in later issues the colour scheme was reversed so that green predominated (the cover art wasn’t always consistent with the interior art in this respect, however).  Facially, he resembled a balding Joker, although—due to colouring inconsistencies--sometimes he had pasty white skin (especially on the covers) and sometimes mostly flesh-coloured skin (in most interior stories). The Clown seems to be wearing a thin, black domino mask, or perhaps it’s makeup—in one story, he’s badly hurt and lying in a hospital bed without his costume…but the mask is still on! (Maybe it’s a tattoo?)

The Clown was introduced as “the craftiest, most vicious arch criminal of all time,” and in his first few appearances he (a) wrecks a library, (b) tries to burn the American flag, ( c ) sets off explosions in the subway (and vows to “kill MILLIONS”), (d) exploits refugee children, (e) assaults senior citizens and (f) repeatedly commits brutal murders. The Clown has no apparent super-powers, but is an inventor (a chemist, according to the first story) and uses a “degravitating solution” so he can make “long leaps” (in a few stories). He wields a sword and likes to use various types of gas.  The Clown doesn’t seem to have a particular idée fixe or a long-term villainous goal: he occasionally claims he wants to “rule the” country or--less ambitiously--”rule” crime in the USA, but in later issues he’s primarily focused on getting revenge on Magno and Davey.

One thing to mention about The Clown is that there’s no particular reason he’s called “The Clown.”  He doesn’t have an origin story, he isn’t based in a circus, and he doesn’t use clown-like gimmicks to commit crimes.  He doesn’t even rattle off evil-but-humourous quips as he’s doing bad things.  Maybe he just likes the way the costume feels and looks. Or perhaps The Clown was created because somebody at Ace Magazines read Batman 1 (Spring 1940) where The Joker was introduced. The Clown made his debut in Super-Mystery Comics 1/5, December 1940.  A coincidence?  I think not…

The cover of Super-Mystery 4/4 is signed by “Ferstadt,” about whom more later. Early Magno adventures were drawn by Jim Mooney in a significantly more realistic style than Ferstadt’s work; later issues and covers were done by various artists including Rudy Palais, L.B. Cole, Walter Davoren, Harvey Kurtzman, Tony DiPreta, and the Ferstadt studio.

I didn’t (and, to be honest, still don’t) have a great appreciation for Louis Ferstadt’s comic book art. Golden Age comic book artists fall into several categories, including excellent, competent, and terrible.  Ferstadt’s drawing isn’t terrible, but his work seems deliberately distorted, cartoony and intentionally crude.  However, my respect for Ferstadt grew considerably when I saw some of his non-comic book work.  Louis Goodman Ferstadt was born in 1900 in what is now the Ukraine, and moved to the USA with his family at age 10.  Ferstadt studied art and then went to work producing commercial art, newspaper comics (including a strip for “The Daily Worker,” published by the Communist Party of the USA), murals, and comic book stories.  He also established a comics studio in the 1940s; among his employees were L.B. Cole and a young Harvey Kurtzman.  Ferstadt and/or his studio contributed to comics published by nearly every company of the era, including DC, Timely, Ace, Harvey, Hillman, Fox, Better, Holyoke, and Quality.

A glance at images of Ferstadt’s murals and paintings indicates he was a talented artist, but that the type of stylisation used in these media did not necessarily translate to comic book art. There are several other possible explanations, including (a) Ferstadt didn’t consider his non-political comic book stories to be worthy of his full efforts (although the cover of Super-Mystery Comics 4/4 isn’t bad at all—many artists tended to lavish more care on cover art, for obvious reasons), and/or (b) some of the comic book art attributed to him is actually the product of less-experienced artists in his studio (Harvey Kurtzman went to work for Ferstadt when he was just 18, his first professional job).

Super-Mystery Comics was published from 1940-49 by Ace Magazines. Interestingly enough, while a variety of features appeared in each issue, the “Super” type of stories predominated for the first 6 years, then the superhero characters (Magno, The Sword, some lesser costumed heroes like Buckskin and Vulcan) were dropped and “Mystery” (well, crime-type, mostly) stories took over for the final few years. It’s almost as if they planned it that way when they chose the title!

Magno was the comic’s star, appearing on the cover of the first 29 issues of Super-Mystery Comics before yielding his spot to the non-costumed crimefighter Mr. Risk (Magno came back for one more cover, shortly before he was dropped completely from the comic).

One of the interesting things about the cover of Super-Mystery October 1944 is that the image of Magno is so small (and his assistant Davey is even smaller, and has no face).  The dominant figure on the cover is The Clown, looking rather more feral than usual as he brandishes a stick of dynamite.  Although there are some scenes set in a circus in the interior story (which is about The Clown using trained rats to steal stuff and murder people), the cover is mostly symbolic, which was prevalent in the Golden Age (the presence of a particular villain on a cover usually signified that character’s presence inside, however—the comics didn’t cheat that much).

Magno wasn’t the most charismatic superhero, but he was the best Ace had, and yet this cover reduces him to a tiny, almost irrelevant figure and makes The Clown the center of attention.  Covers highlighting a colourful nemesis were not unknown during the Golden Age: The Joker appeared on 22 DC covers during the 1940s, and Captain Marvel’s main villain Sivana on a dozen.  Lev Gleason’s The Claw can be seen on 11 covers in this era, although (a) he was a “starring” villain (sort of like Fu Manchu) and not just a secondary character in a superhero strip, and (b) 7 of these covers just show The Claw as a thumbnail image, alerting readers that his misadventures were included in that issue.  Over at Timely, The Red Skull shows up on only 6 covers of the Forties, compared with 11 stories in which his character menaced Captain American and/or the Young Allies.  The Clown made 10 cover appearances (including one thumbnail-only image): most of these covers depict him in combat with an equally-sized Magno, so that this particular issue of Super-Mystery Comics stands out as an especially Clown-centric cover.

Three other clowns are shown on the cover of Super-Mystery 4/4, each mimicking The Clown but with firecrackers rather than dynamite.  My favourite is the fellow at left wearing a bowler hat and a fake “horse” body: he has a delightfully evil look on his face, and the fact that he’s a “real” clown (as opposed to The Clown, whose makeup and costume don’t really resemble a circus clown) makes him a bit more sinister. Just look at him! He’s creepy! Bowler-Hat is about to be pranked by Prone Clown, who’s lighting a firecracker under his compatriot’s horse-butt: this is more like it, a typical clownish thing to do, and not at all weird or nightmare-inducing.  In the background (but still larger than sidekick Davey) is Tall & Moustachioed Clown, setting off multiple firecrackers in one of his ludicrously oversized hands.  Risky, but comedy requires taking risks!

[As an aside, the banner across the bottom of the cover annoyed me with its apparent error—CHUCK Full of Action and Excitement—until I did a (very little) bit of research, and learned that “chuck full” is an acceptable if “less common” (and probably out-dated) spelling of “chock-full” (which, it is claimed, was originally “choke-full”).]

The cover of Super-Mystery Comics 4/4 (October 1944) is colourful and amusing, if not an outstanding example of comic book art.  However, the backstory of Louis Ferstadt and the prominence of The Clown in superhero Magno’s oeuvre make it “chuck full” of interest.  Alright, perhaps not chuck full, but reasonably interesting.  To me, anyway.

[btw, if you think this blog entry was timed to capitalise on the U.S. release of the new film version of It (2017), you’re...partially correct.]

[missmeikakuna]

Chad and the Incel Chapter 7

Rated: M

Fandom: Original Fiction (but inspired by the Virgin vs Chad meme)

Relationship type: Male/Male with a bit of Female/Female (the lesbians are adorable, btw) and unrequited Male/Female (in other words, the guys are bisexual).

Description: Chad is, well, a Chad, or at least he looks like one. He’s got his sights set on the cool nerd Becky and enlists the help of her shy incel ex-friend Noah, offering to help him get the gorgeous girl (Stacy) he desperately wants. Noah is reluctant to help, believing that he will be stuck in inceldom forever, but Chad’s interest in his life gives him hope. When their plans go awry, they start turning their romantic attention towards each other.

Content Warning: Given the subject matter, you can guess that this story has dark themes in it, such as suicide and self-harm (plus the mental health issues that often cause them), sexism, slut-shaming homophobia, biphobia and transphobia. There is also swearing and some mentions of sex but nothing too explicit (hence the M rating as opposed to an Explicit rating).

7th Post: I wonder what a woman’s love feels like

Becky rang the doorbell. She waited a minute before knocking on the door.

‘Okay, okay, I’m coming!’

When Stacy opened the door, Becky noticed her dishevelled hair, tracksuit pants, wrinkled shirt and missing earring. She looked down and found the earring in Stacy’s hand. 

Gesturing to the snowy white sofa in the living room, Stacy asked, ‘I’m sorry, can you wait a little? I’m almost ready.’ Becky nodded and sat down. 

She looked around the living room and saw photos of Stacy and two adults, presumably her parents, on the walls. There were no siblings in the photos. The wallpaper was as white and patternless as the sofa and the ceiling was the colour of smoke. The glass coffee table held up several heavy books, half of them about orthodontics and the other half about sports science. In front of the table stood a curved TV that stretched to both ends of the wall. The house was so clean that Becky couldn’t smell a thing.

When Stacy came out in a low-cut strapless dress and a pair of pumps with heels as high as a giraffe’s neck, Becky grinned.

‘That’s a change from before,’ she said with a chuckle.

Stacy looked down at her outfit. ‘Does it look bad?’

‘No, you’re pretty as always. It’s just, well, we’re just going shopping. You don’t need to wear something that formal.’

Stacy shifted her gaze to Becky’s jeans and t-shirt. She tensed up and started to walk back to her room, but Becky grabbed her arm.

‘It’s okay. Let’s not waste time that could be spent hanging out. How does that sound?’

Stacy nodded. She took Becky to her white beetle and drove the two of them to the nearest mall. She automatically entered her favourite clothing store and took out a blue dress, holding it up against Becky.

‘This would look cute,’ she said.

Becky looked at the tag and pursed her lips. ‘This is pretty expensive for a dress.’ She showed Stacy the tag.

‘Really? That’s pretty cheap for this store.’

Becky frowned. ‘You do realise I’m just an honour student, right? I can’t afford stuff like this.’

Stacy’s cheeks looked like someone had lit a candle underneath them. ‘I’m sorry! I didn’t know.’

Becky put her smile back on. ‘I’m surprised I can see you blushing underneath that tan.’ Stacy covered her face but Becky took one of her hands off it. ‘It’s cute.’

Stacy tore her hand away from Becky and put it back on her face. ‘Do you always say everything you’re thinking?’

Becky stroked her chin. ‘Have I changed? I distinctly remember holding secrets at my old school. How strange.’

Stacy brought her hands down and raised an eyebrow. ‘You kept secrets?’ she asked, trying to ignore the loud rumbling from her stomach.

Becky nodded, her fingers still on her chin. ‘I also distinctly remember being quite the intellectual snob.’ Before Stacy could ask what had changed (not that she would dare), Becky told her a little story. She spoke as they walked towards the food court.

There was a crowd of people gathered around a phone by the lockers, all laughing and making comments about a video. No one seemed to notice Becky White glaring at them from across the hallway.

The girl was sitting on the ground with her back against her bottom locker, reading a thick book about the history of video games. Well, she would be reading if the sound of chatter and the stench of men’s body spray wasn’t a distraction. One girl’s laughter sounded like she was squeezing her last remaining brain cells through her nose. One boy’s speaking voice made him sound like he was doing a mocking impression of a stupid person, which would be hilarious had that been not his natural voice. When he turned his head towards Becky, she pushed her frown up until she wore her ‘role model smile’, a technique she had perfected over multiple nights of practising in the mirror.

Becky guessed the group must be watching a video on a celebrity scandal or something stupid like that, so when she heard someone talk about a climate change-disbelieving politician between giggles, she dropped her book onto her lap and clenched her fists. She was never wrong. She must have misheard the girl.

The bell rang and Becky headed to art class, lathering on a new coat of ‘role model smile’. In class, her teacher handed her a sheet of paper, on which Becky maintained a crab’s grip despite her hands shaking. She felt a dull shiver run down her arms, leaving her feeling cold. Soon the cold melted away to blazing anger, which exploded through her body.

She stood up and slammed her hands against the table. ‘Excuse me, there’s something wrong with my grade for this assignment.’

The teacher headed to her desk and looked at the piece of paper. ‘What seems to be the problem? The grading is correct.’

‘You know me, Mr Oh. You know I deserve a better grade than this.’

Mr Oh lowered his voice to a gentle half-whisper. ‘Your form needs work and your piece lacked originality. I’m sorry but this is the mark you earned for this assignment. May I suggest listening in class rather than reading books?’

If someone saw the way Becky looked at Mr Oh, one could be forgiven for assuming the teacher had told her he was about to drown a box of orphaned puppies.

‘Excuse me? Are you actually a teacher, because what teacher discourages reading? I’m not going to dumb myself down just to do well in ‘art’ class!’ She scrunched her face upon uttering the word ‘art’. ‘Reading is a sign of intelligence, and you know what? I read a whole lot! I don’t just need a passing mark, I deserve it!’ As her shouting turned into screeching, the other students stared at her. 

‘We can talk about this some other time in a quieter setting,’ Mr Oh suggested with a soothing voice that would have worked if he was speaking to anyone else but Becky. The girl’s fist came crashing down into her desk, making no indentations but creating a loud, deep noise. 

‘How can I be valedictorian if I don’t pass every class? How can I get a job in the future if my potential employees find out I failed an assignment? Do you want to be the one held responsible for me wasting my potential? You know what? Your class is stupid anyway. The great philosophers could come up with things in their mind- they didn’t need to draw or paint it!’

‘Rebecca, please-’

‘You’re being a terrible person, Mr Oh.’ Becky grabbed her teacher by his arms. ‘How does that feel? You just ruined a promising young intellectual’s life!’ She started shaking the man.

Mr Oh pushed her arms away, ran out of the classroom and came back with the principal and a security guard. All three men had to drag Becky out of the room kicking and screaming.

The last words her classmates heard from her were, ‘I deserve better than this shitty school!’ 

Stacy gasped, placing her salad tray onto the table. ‘Did you get expelled?’

Becky shook her head. ‘No, but I did get a suspension. I didn’t end up going back, though. I could tell what my classmates were going to say, so I moved to your school. Turned over a new leaf, realised the video games I loved counted as art and made some friends. Well, one friend. You, uh, you know Noah?’ Stacy looked up at the ceiling in thought, absentmindedly crushing the lettuce with her fork. She shook her head. Becky chuckled. ‘Seriously? He’s in our homeroom class! Well, anyway, I was friends with him until he asked me out.’

‘Did you go out with him?’

With a sip of her coffee, Becky scowled at the memory. ‘No way. I was not interested. I mean, I was starting to think I might be gay at that point, but even if I was straight, I would have still seen him as a friend. He... didn’t take it well. Called me a whore for ‘leading him on’ and then avoided me. Whenever he did talk to me, he’d oh so subtlely bring up the concept of the friendzone as if to guilt trip me or some nonsense like that. Little did he know that I felt sex-zoned. I trusted him and thought he honestly wanted to be my friend but all he wanted was to get into my pants.’

As Stacy ate her salad in silence, she looked around the food court for a potential topic of conversation. How was she supposed to respond to that?

Becky did her signature lean forward. ‘So, why the bitchy friends?’

Stacy leaned in as well, though less in amusement and more in defiance. ‘They’re not bitchy!’ she exclaimed, pointing her lettuce-covered fork at her.

With a chuckle, Becky said, ‘Sorry. It’s just… wouldn’t it be hilarious if you stood up to them? I’d love to see you try like you did just now to me.’

Stacy let go of the fork and rubbed her own arm. ‘When I tried that it wasn’t hilarious.’ She bit her lip as if her teeth were guarding a creature threatening to escape from her mouth. Becky noticed this and leaned in closer, causing Stacy’s face to feel like it was tanning under the Summer sun.

‘There’s a story there, isn’t there?’

‘You know, if I knew you were going to act like this I wouldn’t have asked you out.’ When Becky continued to stare at her expectantly, Stacy exhaled her last remnants of stubbornness and told her tale of middle school woes.

Stacy Wells wasn’t the one getting pushed to the ground, but she could somehow feel the cold tile floor of the bathroom. It was a girl with short black and purple hair who was on the ground, covering her scarred wrists. One of Stacy’s friends, the one with the nasal voice, was holding a leather jacket up.

‘I knew it!’ she exclaimed. 'I told you guys she probably cuts herself. What did I say?’

‘Can we see?’ another girl asked with a smirk.

‘Leave me alone,’ the black-haired girl whispered just loud enough for the other girls to hear.

A third girl snickered, looking down at the victim’s wrists. ‘You’re clearly not leaving yourself alone, so why do we have to leave you alone?’

‘Yeah, it’s not our fault you decided to do that shit to yourself,’ the nasal girl added. She then put on a deep voice. ‘Emo’s not a phase, dad! You don’t understand! I just want attention!’

Every girl in the bathroom howled with laughter except for two. One was, of course, the victim. The other was Stacy, who stood in the corner with her face parallel to the ground.

Like a line of dominoes being pushed, several girls repeated the same insult. ‘Attention whore.’

Stacy took a deep breath and reached for the nasal girl’s arm, the arm holding the jacket. ‘Maybe you should give that back to her.’

The nasal girl whipped her body around to face Stacy, making a swooshing sound with the jacket in the air. She glared at Stacy with the furore of a painter seeing someone spill soft drink all over their masterpiece.

‘Butt out of it, Stacy. Isn’t this exactly what an attention whore wants? For everyone to see her? Or are you so dumb you think she doesn’t want the attention?’

‘I’m not dumb,’ Stacy murmured.

‘Are you sure about that? Because everyone knows you’re a dumb slut who thinks she’s hot shit just because she grew boobs before everyone else.’

Stacy covered her chest. ‘Who said that?’

The nasal girl put her hand over her mouth. ‘N-no one.’ She glanced sideways to the girl who originally made that comment.

The victim girl stood up, tore her jacket from the nasal girl’s hand and stormed out of the bathroom with tears smudging her eyeliner. She didn’t find time to give Stacy a thankful smile.

Of course, the nasal girl wasn’t done with Stacy. ‘The fuck was that? What’s your problem, Stacy? You’re supposed to be my friend and you take her side?’

Stacy bowed her head. ‘I’m sorry. I just thought…’

‘You thought what?’

The five girls who were allegedly Stacy’s friends crowded around Stacy with hands on their hips and looks that could make a titan weep. By then she had realised that she was back in that corner she hid in earlier.

She shut her mouth. She kept that mouth shut long after that day, even when the girl with the black and purple hair was targeted again. Every time she saw that girl, she felt tempted to apologise and give her a big hug, asking if she was okay. But then she’d feel the words ‘dumb slut’ pick at her mind’s wounds.

It took her over two years to feel comfortable wearing anything that showed the slightest hint of cleavage.

Becky was no longer leaning forward, instead reaching into her handbag for tissues. She handed them to Stacy, who pushed them away despite knowing how wet her cheeks were.

‘I’m sorry,’ Stacy said, waving one hand about while using the other to rub her eyes. ‘This is probably a really weird first date. Talking about stuff like this. We can end it here if you want.’

Becky took the hand waving in the air and laid it on top of the table. ‘It’s okay,’ she said in a soothing voice. ‘Dates are about getting to know each other, right? I haven’t exactly had much experience with them, to be perfectly honest. But I guess it’s a special kind of date just for our kind of relationship. I’m weird, you’re weird, so our date would be… am I making sense?’ 

Stacy nodded and smiled, slowing her breaths down. ‘Thanks. Well, at least you know I’m a pushover now. Looks like you’re about to dodge a bullet.’

With those words, Becky cupped Stacy’s cheek with her hand. ‘Don’t say that about yourself. You did what you could. So why are you still friends with those girls?’

It took Stacy a few seconds to think up an answer. ‘Who else am I supposed to be friends with?’

Becky stood up and offered her hand. ‘Let’s shop some more. Take your mind off things. I can’t have my date crying, can I?’

Stacy couldn’t help but giggle a little as she took Becky’s hand. They continued holding hands even as they walked throughout the mall. They stopped at a STEM retailer and went into the star room, which was just a black room with lights projected onto the ceiling. They laughed as they tried to make the smallest shadow puppets in history, though alas, the stars were too small even for their shadow puppets.

After they finished shopping and headed back to Stacy’s house, they said goodbye with a peck on the cheek, which both parties were satisfied with. Becky waved to the other girl before getting into her own car and driving off, a big grin on her face.