#the tin hat is glued to my head guys

[saturn-valleys]

If you really think about it, Trent Crimm isn't that important to the narrative. At least not anymore.

Yes he did write and article about Ted's panic attacks and that did result him being the antagonist for just a moment but that was resolved in season 2. He doesn't interact with any of the characters that much accept for Colin and Ted.

Colin and Ted are the only two ppl Trent has had moments with that are longer than a few seconds. Other than that he does really...do anything? He's just hanging out. Shadowing the team to his book. That's literally it. We don't know his background, we don't know his daughters name, we don't his ex wife, we don't his thoughts or insecurities.

So why is he still here? Why is he still in the show? It still would've been the same if he wasn't there.

The only logical explanation(in my head and critical thinking) is that he is the season finale's twist. He is going to be part of the surprising finale and maybe even play an important part and it most definitely probably be with Ted.

Why else would they have him interact with Dottie in the last episode. Why did they make Dottie, Ted's mother, the one to finally compliment Trent's hair and why in the second to last episode?

Why did Ted look more visibly upset and lash out until his mom invited Trent into the group hug.

Why are Ted and Dottie the only to people to include Trent in social things(ie, the team huddle and the hug in the last ep)?

Trent's inclusion in most episodes are because Ted wants him included, intentionally or unintentionally. And obviously his mom is just like him so obviously she's going to include him too.

Without Ted, there is no point for Trent to be there.

And I think that's what the conflict of the finale will be. Trent realizing that he truly isn't whole without Ted. Ted's the whole reason Trent started the book in the first place. Why he let himself be fired from the one job he's had for 20 years. Why he's his truest self.

And without him there...what is he?

[trinketstar]

How I made my own vintage Pomni!

Based on this tutorial, with my own modifications and sewing pattern!

Let's begin!

Here's a total list of the things I used here.

Shiny fabric: blue and red

Acrylic paint. Colors: White,red,blue,black

Gold ribbon

White sculpey clay

Tin foil

Mod podge (for sealing the paint)

Jingle bells

Dark brown yarn

Glue

And depending on how you want to handle crafting the body you can either follow the original tutorial and make one out of any fabric you'd like, filling it with plastic beans and stuffing,

Or you can do what I did and cheat a little! I actually used the body of a beanie baby to save time. You'll find tons of these guys at the thrift store, usually for about a dollar each. The one I used for Pomni looked like this.

All I did was carefully undo the stitching on the bear's head and set Pomni's clay head in the opening!

Now for the steps! The first thing I did was gather my materials and make a concept sketch.

Then since I already had a body for Pomni, I rolled a ball of tin foil slightly smaller than I wanted the head to be, and covered it in sculpey clay. Then I molded the face into a nice cute shape! Don't worry if the back of the head is lumpy, you won't see it under the hat and hair.

Make sure to add a neck that tapers outwards at the bottom so the head stays in the neck hole of the plush body!

After baking the clay, I painted the head white and sketched out the face lightly with pencil before painting on the details. I even added a little bit of glitter to her eyes! Then when I was satisfied with the face, I sealed the paint with mod podge. It added a nice shine to her face which adds to the porcelain look!

I'd bought a clown doll at a thrift store with a similar outfit to the one I wanted to make for Pomni, which I reverse engineered to make my own pattern! Here's In-progress Pomni wearing the other doll's outfit.

I cut out these patterns to use for the outfit.

After cutting out the pants they should look like this when put together and folded. Turn them inside out and sew them together at the middle, including the crotch. Leave the top and the pant legs open.

The sleeves should look like this cut out and folded. Make sure they're inside out just like the pants, and sew these at the sleeve openings at the top. Remember to leave the neck hole open!

Here's where we add the ribbon at the ends! Fold up the base of the pant legs and sleeves to hem the ends, and scrunch up the gold ribbon to sew around the borders while you're hemming them. It'll scrunch the ends a little bit, giving the outfit that poofy look.

Then turn it inside out!

I sewed the bells on and put the outfit on pomni! Then I simply cut another piece of ribbon and made a little ruffle for her neck. It's not sewed to the outfit just so it's easier to take on and off.

For Pomni's hair I got the yarn and combed it out with a fine tooth comb until the texture became softer, and then used a flat iron on it (VERY briefly. just for a second!!!!) to straighten it out. For more tips on this look up yarn doll hair tutorials on youtube! Then I just glued it to her lil head and styled it like so.

I don't have any progress pics for the hat but it was pretty simple. Just cut out the shapes and sew them up!

Then add the hem with a ribbon folded in half, and the bells!

TADAA! A baby pompom for you!

[ambertea]

snowman

(read on AO3)

Rose accidentally creates an evil snowman. A strange man helps her sort it out. Nine/Rose.

Pulling up the brim of her woolly hat, she gives her fiercest, scariest glare, complete with bared teeth.

Looking out the window this morning, she’d been so excited—it rarely snowed in London, and when it did it almost never settled. But it did and it had, and the entire estate had been coated in a thick, beautiful layer of snow.

After that, her morning had quickly gone downhill. Her mum had insisted that she ate breakfast, of all things, and then wrapped her in so many clothes she felt like a ball of fluff. Mickey had refused to come out, eyes glued to his PlayStation as always, and she had been left to trek into the winter wonderland alone.

That, she could’ve dealt with. But it somehow it had gotten even worse.

There is something wrong with her snowman. He has two button eyes, a good carrot nose, and a nice warm scarf, courtesy of her mother. But he was in such a weird mood—she was of the distinct opinion he was not happy to be hanging out with her, which was a bit rude, and somehow the sticks she’d arranged into a smile had morphed into a frown.  

“Hello!” A voice says from behind her, and she spins around, her hand out ready to karate chop.

It’s an old man, at least older than any bloke her mother has ever brought back to the house. He’s wearing a leather jacket, just like the pop stars on TV, and his eyes are bright and blue, much prettier than hers.

She turns away.

“Hello?”

“Mum said I shouldn’t talk to strangers,” she tells the snowman. “They might put me in a white van.”

“Oh, well, that’s good advice.” The man says, crouching down next to her. “But I don’t have a white van. It’s blue.”

He points at a blue box, nestled in the snow.

“That’s a rubbish van.” She tells him, and he nods.

“Yep. Absolutely rubbish. Anyway,” he says, his hand reaching out to her snowman. “I’m the Doctor. Who’s this?”

She looks him up and down. He doesn’t look like a doctor—doctors dress in white, and they scowl, and they prick her with needles when she’s least expecting it. But her snowman needs sorting out, and maybe a Doctor is the best way to do that.

“His name is Jack.”

“Of course it is.” He says mockingly. She hates that. Hates it when grown-ups make up jokes she can’t understand, like they’re trying to show off how smart they are. This Doctor probably had a higher reading age than her when he was eight, she thinks glumly, and an even higher reading age now.

She wants to turn away but she can’t just leave Jack here, not all by himself, so she just shrugs.

He pulls something out of his pocket and scans Jack with it, and Rose’s mouth drops open. She’s had toys that do stuff like this, but she’s never seen an adult able to do it. He notices her watching and grins.

“Sonic screwdriver,” he says, flipping it in his hand. “Diagnostic device.”

Rose isn’t sure what diagnostic means, but it sounds sort of clever, so she lets it slide. He frowns and holds the screwdriver up to his ear, and she wonders if it’s talking to him.

“Strange.” He frowns. He bends in and sniffs Jack, and eying him, Rose does too.

“He smells like tins of beans when they’re put in the microwave.” She tells the Doctor, and his eyebrows raise.

“Like metal?”

She nods slowly, feeling a bit shy under his attention.

“Is Jack going to be okay?”

He ignores her and scans the snowman again, and Rose is two seconds away from stomping her foot and storming away. But then he offers the screwdriver to Rose, and she holds it to her ear and waits.

“What are you doing?” The Doctor asks her quietly. She frowns at him.

“I thought it talked.”

“Um, no. Press the button and point it towards Jack.”

She does, her thumb trembling under the effort. Images suddenly light up in her brain. A woman, making lunch for her kids. A man huddling under a bus shelter, his shoulders shaking under the cold. A girl with a gun, shooting at far off dots on the horizon.

The images stop, and she notices suddenly that she’s shaking. She thrusts the screwdriver back at him.

“What did you see?” He asks curiously, and she scowls.

“What was that?”

He pockets the screwdriver and strokes Jack’s face. Rose wonders if she should look away, like she does when ‘uncle’ Harry does that to mum, but he’s frowning instead of smiling.

“Water has memory.” He whispers. He pulls himself up off the floor and pulls at his jacket, looking serious. Rose looks up at him, and wonders if her snowman will get an injection.

He starts to walk away, and Rose hurries after him, taking two quick steps for each one of his long strides.

“Is Jack going to be okay?”

“Need to run some tests,” he mutters. “There’s something wrong with the atomic make up.”

“The at-atomic make up?”

He stops, looking down like he’d only just noticed she was there at all. She huffs and crosses her arms, and the corner of his mouth reluctantly tugs into a smile. Not the best response to her scary glare, but a start.

He bends down and places his hands on her shoulders. She shrugs them off.

“Your snowman,” he whispers, looking at her intensely. “Is alive.”

She looks up at him and wonders whether it’s too late to start screaming stranger danger.

“He’s made of snow.” She says slowly, trying to copy the way her teachers tried to teach her Maths. “And a carrot.”

“Right. And I think he’s trying to take over Earth.” He says, a wild smile on his face. “Never met a killer snowman before. Met a snowman killer, once, weird guy—”

She stops listening, instead trying to sort out all of her thoughts. This man was clearly a bit crazy, which wasn’t great, but the snowman was a bit weird. And she didn’t want to wake up to it leaning over her bed in the night with a knife.

“How do we stop him?” She asks, and he nods wildly.

“Don’t know yet. Need to run some tests. God, snow. Never had to destroy snow before. Possibly a salt mix?”

She looks at him and reconsiders whether he’s smarter than she is.

“Or hot water.” She says, using her slow voice again, and his face brightens.

He legs it into the blue box, and Rose waits outside, a little bored. So much for her fun day in the snow, she had to save the world instead. Typical.

He emerges with a steaming kettle and a wild look on his face. She raises an eyebrow and tries to jump up to steal it out of his grasp.

“It’s my snowman.” She whines, but he shakes his head.

“Very hot water. It’s not safe for little girls.”

She growls, ready to pounce on top of him, but he is already storming off in Jack’s direction. With a quick grin over his shoulder, he pours it over Jack’s head, the water slapping the snow with a loud clap.

Rose comes to his side and watches sadly.

“He took me ages to make.”

“For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause.” He says.

Rose eyes him, and wonders whether she should chuck some hot water over him too.

[xx-autmnlvr-xx]

Is this embarrassing? Chapter 1

PAIRING: KEVEDD (Kevin x Edd) [Ed, Edd n Eddy]

Rating: T (for cursing and violence)

This is really exciting because I have been working on this story for almost a week now and I didn’t want to post the first chapter until I finished the whole thing. I’m so happy to finish such a long fanfiction! I hope you all enjoy!!! If you like it please feel free to reblog so others can read it!

    It was a cool autumn day and peach Creek high was out at the football field for a pep rally. The Ed's, who are now in 10th grade, were on the top of the bleachers. Edd shifted in his seat in discomfort. Eddy was sitting, leaning against the back railings and Ed was laying down beside Eddy.

    "so, I said to Rolf 'I know where you should stuff your salami' I mean, it wouldn't have hurt for some of it to be sold! I was gonna give him 25 percent of the profit!" Eddy yammered in a huff. Edd shook his head with a slight smile before looking out at the football field. His eyes raked over each player until he saw him.

   With the number twelve spread on his uniform, Edd knew that underneath was a tall and slightly muscular Kevin. Kevin has grown a bit since they were 12. He began talking more to them in a friendly way and has stopped the bullying. He still calls the Ed's dorks, but now it's in a kinder way. Double D's smile widened as he watched.

   "Hey! Earth to sock head! Are you listening?" Eddy yelled, waving his hand in front of Edd's face.

    Double D snapped out of it and looked at Eddy, "o-oh I'm sorry, Eddy. I must have dozed off."

    "Are you fawning over shovel chin again?"

    "Wh... what? No! I was... just thinking of quantum physics! Very intriguing!" Edd claimed, a blush spreading on his cheeks.

   Eddy rolled his eyes, "why don't you just talk to him, Edd?"

   "Oh no no no! I would never!" Double D's cheeks grew redder.

   Then he sighed, looking out at the field, "Kevin would never go out with me. I mean he's obviously straight."

"So?" Eddy asked, "why don't you convert him? Isn't that what people like you do? Make straight people gay?"

Edd glared at Eddy, "sometimes I really wonder why I'm friends with you."

"Oh, I know! It's because we all have the same name and have been hanging out since we were kids!" Ed said loudly, smiling wide.

Double D smiled and ruffled Ed's hair, "yes. That is a few of the reasons, Ed."

 Suddenly the conversation was cut short with a loud voice, "Okay, peach Creek high! Pep rally is over so get your asses home!" Sarah screamed in a megaphone at the students.

"But be sure to come by tomorrow at 6 for the football game!" Nazz cut in with her own megaphone, "Let's come show support to our team!"

Eddy stood up, "come on, guys! Let's get going." The three made their way down the bleachers and began trekking back to the cul-de-sac. Edd glanced behind him and saw Kevin looking at him. As their eyes met double D made a flustered noise and looked in front of him. When the Ed's made it to the cul-de-sac, Eddy yawned.

"Well, boys, I would say let's hang but that stupid football rally wore me out."

"Aww but Eddy! I wanted to show you my new 'poinder monster blood' movie!" Ed pouted.

"We can watch it tomorrow, Ed. I promise." Eddy patted his shoulder.

"Yeah I agree. Today was most strenuous! I'll see you both tomorrow!" Edd smiled and waved as he went up to his house. Double D closed the door behind him and sighed, looking at his home. It was just as he left it with no sign or hair that his parents came home that day.

"It must have been another triple shift." He muttered to himself.

 He walked to the kitchen and drunk some water. Double D put his bag on the table and looked through his books. He whispered a mental list of all that he must get done that weekend that includes two essays, a page of math equations, and a thesis on ancient Aztec inventions. he began to head upstairs when someone knocked on his door. He checked the time, it was 5 pm.

"Weird. Who could that be?" Edd made his way to the door and opened it. He nearly passed out.

"M-m... Marie! What are you doing back in peach Creek?" He asked, his knees shaking slightly. Marie kanker and her sisters were taken away back in 8th grade when May came to school with multiple bruises. The human resources department found out the kanker sisters were being beat by their fathers and found multiple signs of malnutrition. Marie still had her blue hair, cut so one of her eyes were covered up she wore a black crop top with some Jean shorts. She had on some fingerless gloves. Marie rubbed the back of her neck.

"Our mother got custody of us and talked to us about where we wanted to finish school. We all chose peach Creek. We're living close to the shops."

Edd nodded, "Oh. I see." He was a little confused. Why is she acting so different?

"Do you... Want to come in?" He asked, moving aside for her.

She nodded, "yeah, thanks." She sat down on the couch and looked down at the rug.

"Would you like something to drink?"

She looked up, "do you have any sweet tea?"

"Yes, I certainly do! One moment."

 Edd came back and handed Marie the cup and sat down in a lounge chair.

"Thank you, Edd."

"It's no problem. You seem different than last time I saw you. What has happened?"

She took a sip, "well after the people took us away, they tried to put us in a foster home. Lee made a fuss and we shanked some of the kids there. They called us a danger to society and threw us in a mental hospital. While we were there, they talked to us about internalized obsessive disorder and abuse. They gave us medicine and had us talk to so many therapists. I didn't even know what we did as children was wrong. I guess that's what happens. We all began to listen, and I found out something about me. I realized that my love for you was false. I didn't love you I loved your sensitivity. I wanted to be as hopeful as you. I should have realized that I wasn't straight when I started sneaking to look at my dad's magazines."

"You mean you're...?"

"Yeah, I'm a lesbian. I didn't realize because I honestly thought that I NEEDED a man."

She took another sip and put down the drink, "but that's not why I'm here." Marie looked at him. He looked back at her.

"Double D, I want to apologize. How I acted two years ago was very ridiculous and I understand that you must have been very scared. No one should be forced into any kind of romantic interaction. I understand that now. I don't expect you to forgive me, but I just want you to know that I am working to improve myself."

"Oh... oh wow, Marie. That is very admirable of you! I must admit I never expected this. I accept your apology." Edd smiled.

She smiled back, "I hope we can be friends."

"Of course!" Edd nodded. Suddenly, Marie's pocket buzzed. She took out her phone and looked at it.

"Oh shit. I have to get home. I'll talk to you later?"

 After Marie and Edd said their goodbyes, she left his home and ran down the street. Double D watched for a moment and closed his door.

"Isn't that interesting. I never would have thought that someone like the kankers would work to better themselves. I'm happy for them." Edd said to himself as he walked up the stairs and into his room.

He took off his clothes and slipped on his pajamas. He even completed most of his homework. Edd laid on his bed and looked at the ceiling. He thought about how he should come clean to Kevin but at the mere thought of confessing made him shiver.

"Eddward this is ridiculous..." He told himself aloud, "what do you have to lose?"

He thought about it and bit his lip, "he could laugh at me... Distance himself... What if he starts beating me up?" Edd felt tears well up and he made a noise of desperation. He suddenly got an idea and went over to his desk.

"Of course! I'll just write a love letter and just never give it! I'll have the emotions released and I won't get rejected!" Edd sat at his chair, grabbed a pen and blue paper and started writing.

'my dearest friend, Kevin,

It may come as a shock, but I can contain this no longer--' double D began. He smiled and kept writing the letter, letting out all his hidden desire. After he completed the whole thing he felt better. He folded it up and put it in a tin can. He debated throwing it away, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, so he decided to put it in his pants. He slept well that night.

Edd awoke at 10 am that Saturday to the sound of his alarm blaring. He sat up with a stretch and turned it off. He groggily went to his closet and grabbed his toiletries before going to the bathroom. After his shower he was brushing his teeth while trying to avoid looking in the mirror.

'why hasn't it gone away? I've tried everything but the scar is still there.' Edd thought. Finally, after he rinsed his mouth, he looked up in the mirror. There, in the middle of his head, with a haphazard pattern was a large scar. No hair grew around it so there was just a bald spot. The scar is a constant reminder of the worst point in his life. He sighed, rubbing a pea sized amount of cocoa butter lotion on the scar before putting on his hat.

Eddward left his house after doing his chores and locked the door.

"Hey, double D! Finally, you came out!" Eddy yelled from across the cul-de-sac. Eddy and Ed began bursting into a fit of laughter. Edd rolled his eyes and chuckled, walking up to them.

"You know, I may stop hanging out with you if you keep up with the gay jokes, Eddy." Edd teased.

"Aw puh-leese sockhead you know I'm just teasing." Eddy smiled, lightly nudging Edd.

Ed lifted the other two and hugged them tightly, "guys are we gonna watch the movie now?"

 Ed was sitting cross-legged in front of his couch, his eyes glued to the TV. Eddy was spread out on one side of the couch, typing on his phone. Edd was on the other side of the couch with his ankles crossed, watching the movie. After Ed's parents bought a new couch, they threw it down the basement for Ed since double D and Eddy are always over.

Edd tilted his head, "so the monster is literally a sentient glob of blood? Who comes up with these things?"

Ed turned toward double D and smiled happily, "I know! Isn't it awesome?? It could roll and wobble and gobble everyone! And it would grow each time!!! What if it happens?"

Edd smiled and patted his shoulder, "it's highly impossible, Ed. They said in the movie that they made it using 'a vial of hubirous' and there is no such thing as a hubirous. You have nothing to be worried about."

Ed nodded, "yes! You're right, double D! If it was real Godzilla would probably eat it anyways!"

Edd shook his head and smiled, "you're so imaginative."

Eddy stretched, "if I had that vial, I wouldn't waste it on some stupid experiment. Science is lame. Oh! Hey, guys, that new game came out last night! It ended up being free! Do you wanna play it sometime this week?"

"Ooh ooh yeah! That sounds cool!" Ed said, jumping up and down in his seat. A loud noise came from the television and Ed went back to watching it

Edd rubbed the back of his neck, "I don't know, Eddy. We have a big test coming up this week. Maybe we can do it next weekend."

Eddy groaned, "sockhead, you're too uptight. One test won't kill us."

Double D raised an eyebrow, "Eddy, you didn't pass the practice ACT two weeks ago. You NEED to take school more seriously."

"School is for chumps! I'm gonna make a NAME for myself! I don't need no damn geometry!"

"School is the beginnings of all business and careers. You won't last."

"WATCH ME, SOCKHEAD!" Eddy huffed, crossing his arms. Edd rolled his eyes and continued watching the movie.

 After a while Edd remembered something.

"Remember the kanker sisters?" At the mere mention of them, Ed and Eddy looked at Edd with wide eyes.

"W-what... What about them?" Eddy asked nervously.

"They came back to peach Creek!" Ed was about to scream but double D covered his mouth, "BUT they aren't like they were before! They changed!"

"How do you know?" Ed asked behind being muffled. Edd cringed and took off his hand, wiping it off on his shorts.

"Marie came over to my house last night and apologized for what happened when we were in jr. High."

"Woah you serious?" Eddy asked, shocked.

"Yeah! They got help and now they aren't obsessive or aggressive like they were."

"Cool!" Eddy and Ed said in unison. The movie ended then, and double D looked at the time. 5 pm.

"I should take my leave now."

Ed pouted, "aww but why?"

Eddy smirked, "isn't it obvious? He wants to go see Kevin throw a ball around."

Edd's entire face went red, "n...no I'm not! I just have homework!"

Eddy raised an eyebrow and shrugged, "whatever. It's your life. But you know you don't have to keep denying it, it's pretty obvious. Even lumpy can tell when you're drooling."

"Yeah! It's as clear as the little ant trying to sneak off with my cheese!" Ed chimed.

Edd looked down at his hands and fumbled with them, "you guys think it's that noticeable? Oh, my what if Kevin knows? Is he going to start avoiding me?"

"Dude, it's not that deep. My father always says, 'sell it quick before they notice' which basically means 'just go for it or you'll miss it.'" Eddy said. Double D nodded and said goodbye before climbing out Ed's window.

 The autumn wind whistled past Edd's ears. The chilly air causing fallen leaves to land near his feet. Double D looked at the ground as he walked, thinking about what Eddy said.

'maybe he's right. I mean we have lived by Kevin for years. Maybe he would accept me?' Eddward smiled a little and imagined what it would be like. Kevin pulling him close and kissing him behind a tree, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

Edd wasn't looking where he was going and bumped into someone's back. He fell backwards onto his butt.

"Ngh! Oh, how humiliating." Edd groaned in pain, rubbing his lower back.

"YO, NERD!" A voice yelled. Edd looked up at two stocky-built guys in football uniforms.

Double D's face went pale, "I'm sorry! I... I didn't mean to--" The one on the right got close to Edd's face. His name was Kyle, he had bushy eyebrows and an Auburn colored buzz cut.

"You didn't mean to WHAT, loser?"

"I was- I was deep in thought and I didn't know you was there. I'm sorry."

The one on the left smirked and went behind Edd. He was named Larry and he had blonde wavy hair with a goatee. He pulled double D to his feet and locked his arm around Edd's neck to prevent him from leaving.

"What were you thinking about? Were you thinking about math? Hey, Kyle, do you think if we bust his head open, we will get a cheat sheet for school?" At the mention of a busted head Edd started squirming, gripping Larry's arm that was nearly choking him.

"Plea... please just let me go! I'm sorry!"

"Oh, you'll be sorry alright." Kyle smiled, he punched Edd in the nose. Edd screamed in pain while the two laughed. They spent the next five minutes punching and kicking him. Edd felt himself starting to pass out from the pain. The last thing he remembered was being shoved in a trashcan and them digging in his pockets.

"Shit! Doesn't the nerd have any money? I thought his parents made a lot of money!" Kyle grumbled. Double D only saw black as he passed out completely.

[literallyusuk]

Cowboy Casanova (USUK) Chapter 1

Summary: A well-bred Englishman finds himself in the American Wild West, surrounded by larger-than-life characters and a backdrop of blue skies and red earth. However, it seems everyone has something to hide, and dark rumours cling particularly tightly to one bright-eyed cowboy. 

This thing is literally like 5 and a half years old, but I’ve finally finished it! Since it is so old the writing style is a bit different to my latest works, but I’m excited to finally let it out into the world. It was initially inspired by the song ‘Cowboy Casanova’ by Carrie Underwood. Updates will be every few days, perhaps two or three a week. I don’t have a particular schedule.

Can also be found on my AO3! It will have additional notes there.

Arthur watched the train speed away into the distance. It glinted silver and copper beneath the wide blue sky, to the point that he had to hold a hand in front of his face to stave off the worst of the glare. Once it was gone from sight he sighed and hefted his duffel bag over his shoulder, turning to focus on his more immediate surroundings.

The train station was one of the only two buildings in sight, the other being quarters for the station master. Arthur adjusted the straw hat on his head before stepping into the shade of the building. The station was bigger than he’d expected and quite airy, with wide windows and double doors opening onto both the platform and out into the desert on the other side. It looked elegant despite being made solely of dusty wood.

“Hello?” he called.

“In ‘ere!” came a shout from inside.

Arthur followed it to find a burly man behind the counter. The man’s clothes were dusty and worn as well, but his eyes watched Arthur sharply. A steaming tin cup sat before him, next to a pile of wood shavings. He held the knife and piece of wood he was whittling in his hands.

“You’re new around here.” It wasn’t a question. “Stayin’ or movin’ on?”

“Staying. How far to the nearest town?”

“Ten miles. S’called Willow Springs. Where you from?”

“I came from New York City.”

“That ain’t a New York accent.”

“Ah. Originally I’m from London, England.” Arthur said the words cautiously, unsure where this round of questioning was going.

The man just grunted. “There’s no transportation. You’ll have to walk.”

“That’s fine by me. Which direction is Willow Springs?”

“There’s a signpost outside. Follow it in a straight line.”

“Thank you for your help.” Arthur received another grunt and took that as his cue to leave.

He paused momentarily on the porch before he stepped back out under the sun. Dry desert surrounded him, though he could see scatterings of blue and purple hills in the distance, contrasted against the reddish ground. Clumps of grey-green grasses sprouted every there and then across the earth. They were more concentrated around the train station and tracks. Bushes and cacti dotted the landscape as well. Arthur smiled.

“Watch your footing for snakes!” the station master called.

“Thank you!” Arthur replied, then started forward.

The signpost had only one marker on it, with the faded lettering for Willow Springs engraved into the metal. It pointed westward, so Arthur adjusted his hat further down his forehead and set off. He kept his eyes glued to the ground, watching for snakes as the station master had warned him, though occasionally he would glance upward to check the sun’s position.

He had sweat running down his back within fifteen minutes. He tried to ignore it as best he could and resisted reaching for his water canister more than once every five hundred steps. Counting them helped pass the time and gave him a goal to work towards. As beautiful as the desert around him was, he wanted to find the town as soon as possible. He had to adjust his hat a few more times as the sun sank lower in the horizon, and every now and then he’d take it off entirely to fan at his face. Though his pace had remained slow and steady for most of his walk, it picked up once he saw the faint silhouettes of buildings in the distance.

Arthur stopped briefly about a mile away from the town to drink again as well as splash some water on his face. He also straightened out his clothes and tried to brush his fingers through his hair to smooth it down a bit. It wouldn’t do to present himself so unfavourably in a new area, so he tried his best to make himself look tidier. After two minutes he gave up on the hair and jammed his hat back down over it before starting off again.

He didn’t get very far, though. The outermost buildings of the town were visible in detail when, seemingly out of nowhere, he was surrounded by a group of five men on horseback. A tall, imposing blond man with purple eyes astride a pure white horse seemed to be the leader. An albino, a brunet, and two darker blonds were seated on darker horses a few feet behind him. At the leader’s nod, the four surrounded Arthur on all sides.

Arthur sighed. “And I suppose you expect me to hand over all of my valuables to you now, yes?”

“Yes, that would be nice,” the pale-haired leader said, smiling cheerfully.

Arthur blinked at the light accent in his voice. “Sorry to disappoint you, gentlemen, but I don’t have any valuables on me.” He patted his pockets to emphasize this.

The outlaw’s eyes narrowed. “Is that true? Gilbert, search him.”

The albino snickered as he swung down. “With pleasure.”

“That won’t be necessary.” A clear voice rang out from behind them, stopping Gilbert in his tracks. “Leave him be.”

Arthur turned to see a young blond man sitting on a tricolour pinto horse a few feet away. He was smiling easily, but his bright blue eyes were hard behind his glasses as he toyed with the gun at his hip. He looked like he knew how to use it.

“I do not believe this is your business, Alfred,” the leader said softly.

“‘Course it is, Ivan,” Alfred replied, matching his tone. “You’re tormentin’ an innocent traveller outside the town. As the protector of this town, it’s my duty to stop ya.” His eyes passed over Arthur and then the other outlaws surrounding him. His expression darkened when he saw the brunet. “Toris, what are ya doin’ with these guys?”

“Do not answer, Toris, or you will regret it,” Ivan growled.

Toris looked torn for a moment, before lowering his gaze and staying silent as he played with some loose leather on his saddle horn.

Alfred looked sad. Then, the brief moment passed and his expression brightened again. “Right, let me say it again. Let the nice traveller be, and give yourselves up,” he said cheerfully, but it seemed forced now.

“And what will you do if we don’t?” Ivan challenged.

Alfred drew his gun and cocked it. “It won’t be pretty.”

Gilbert took another step towards Arthur. Alfred caught the movement and urged his horse forward, simultaneously firing. The bullet would have taken Ivan through the shoulder, except his horse spooked. It grazed his arm instead, leaving a long, shallow gash diagonally across his forearm. Alfred stopped the pinto when he was right next to Arthur. The horse reared, and Arthur cursed under his breath as he ducked away from the flying hooves. Gilbert also cursed and scrambled backwards, back to his horse.

Ivan’s forearm was bleeding at this point, but he was still smiling. “That was-” He stopped as his gaze focused on something off to the side, in the direction of the town. “Come on.” He wheeled his horse around, creating a large dust cloud around them. His companions did the same, and the dust cloud grew.

Arthur coughed, covering his mouth with his sleeve. When the dust settled, he was alone with Alfred. “Wh-Where did they go?” he asked, looking around with some awe.

“Damnit!” Alfred cursed, smacking the pommel of his saddle. “I dunno, they’re good at that. But I’ll catch ‘em one day,” he vowed. He looked over his shoulder to see two men approaching him. “Hiya, Ludwig!”

The serious-looking blond in front nodded as he reined in. “What happened? Adam noticed the commotion, and we heard a shot.” A shiny Sheriff’s badge was pinned to his chest.

“It was Ivan. But he’s gone now, the bastard.”

The other man swung down and bounced over to Arthur. “Hello! I’m Feliciano Vargas, but you can call me Feli! You’re new around here, aren’t you? What’s your name?” he had reddish-brown hair and warm amber eyes.

“Yes, I am. My name is Arthur Kirkland. Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Arthur replied, inclining his head slightly.

“Whoa, you’re English! Cool!” Alfred said, grinning more brightly. “My full name is Alfred F. Jones, by the way, though I’m also known as the local hero. Or protector of the town, but hero sounds better.”

“No one calls you that, you know,” Ludwig said. “I’m Ludwig Beilschmidt. Are you coming to our town, or just passing through?”

“No, I was planning on staying here for a while,” Arthur replied, noting their accents as well. “Get some work to support myself.”

“Do you need an escort?” Feliciano asked brightly. “We’ll give you one if you want!”

“I’ll take him!” Alfred called out. “Got nothin’ else to do.” He suddenly nudged his horse closer to Ludwig and leaned in, so that Arthur barely caught the words. “Gilbert was with them. Just thought you’d wanna know.”

Ludwig frowned and nodded tensely, but said nothing. He motioned to Feliciano, who smiled one last time at Arthur and mounted. The two of them rode off, leaving Alfred and Arthur alone again.

“Thank you for your assistance earlier, but I can find my way now. I can see the buildings, after all,” Arthur said, starting to walk after them. He was suddenly blocked off as Alfred brought his horse directly in his way, forcing him to stop.

“Naw, I said I’d take ya, so I will. And ‘sides, what if Ivan comes back? I can’t leave you all defenceless-like.”

“I am not defenceless!” Arthur snapped, looking up at him. He didn’t relish the idea of meeting the group of outlaws again anytime soon, though. After a moment, he sighed. “Well if you absolutely insist, I suppose it would be rude of me to refuse.”

Alfred chuckled and pointed to the duffel bag slung over the Englishman’s shoulder. “That all ya got?”

“Yes. Is there anything wrong with that?” Arthur asked, adjusting the strap over his shoulder.

“No, just wanted to make sure that the load wouldn’t be too much for Star,” Alfred replied, patting the pinto’s neck.

Arthur understood the implication immediately. “No. I am not getting up on that creature’s back,” he said firmly.

“Aww, don’t hurt her feelings! C’mon, I’ll hold ya still and make sure you don’t fall off.” Alfred held out his hand.

Arthur stared at it dubiously before reaching out to take it. The cowboy heaved him up behind himself, and Arthur had to grab him around the waist so he wouldn’t fall off the other side. Colour rose to his cheeks as he felt Alfred’s toned, firm muscles beneath his shirt, and he was happy that he could hide his face in said shirt to keep his blush concealed.

“So are ya really as poor as you told ‘em, or were you just bluffin’?” Alfred asked, pushing Star into an easy-paced walk.

“I-I’ve got about twenty dollars left?” Arthur managed to get out. The sudden movement of the horse startled him, and he ended up clinging to the American even more.

Alfred chuckled as he felt the arms around him tighten and twisted around a bit to look at Arthur. “That’s a little more than ‘nothin’ valuable’. Where do ya wanna go?”

“Just take me to the nearest hotel or someplace I could spend the night.”

“Right. Elizaveta, my Hungarian friend, has a saloon with some rooms above it. You could rent out one of those for a bit.”

Arthur nodded. “Would you happen to also know a place I could find some work?”

“Huh… Do ya know how to handle cattle? Or ride?” Alfred asked, patting one of the arms around his waist.

Arthur immediately loosened his hold. “Of course I know how to ride. I just know how to ride well-trained English horses.”

“And the cattle?”

“No. I’d prefer something inside, if possible.”

Alfred laughed. “Good luck with that.”

They were coming to the town now, and Alfred turned down a small side alley towards a two storey, plain wooden building at the end of the street and at the outskirts of town.

“So you won’t help me?” Arthur asked, disappointment lacing his voice.

“I gave you a ride, didn’t I? But don’t worry, Liz might be able to help you with that. She may be in need of a new barkeep. They’ve been rotatin’ a lot since the original one…left,” Alfred said, hesitating a bit at the end.

“Left?”

“It’s a long story. Liz’ll tell ya, maybe, if you ask her.” Alfred stopped in front of the building and motioned for the other to get off.

Arthur had some difficulties with that due to his duffel bag, and after a few moments of struggling he simply lowered it to the ground before swinging down. “Thank you for the ride. And…for back there,” he said as he slung it over his shoulder again.

“No problem! It’s what heroes do!” Alfred replied cheerfully, dismounting as well and tying Star to a nearby hitching post.

Arthur blinked, surprised that the cowboy was still there. “And I suppose you fancy yourself one?” he asked, recovering quickly. Ludwig’s words rang faintly in his ears.

“‘Course I’m a hero! Don’t pay attention to what Ludwig says. I’m awesome at savin’ people, and the girls all love me,” Alfred replied, winking at the Englishman. “Some guys too.” He gave him a challenging look. “You’ve got no problem with that, do ya?”

“What, that you fancy men occasionally? It’s part of the reason I left England,” Arthur said, shrugging.

“So you’re a queer too?”

“Yes, but I’d appreciate if you refrained from spreading that information around.”

Alfred laughed again. “Quit bein’ so formal, this ain’t the big city or nothin’. But don’t worry, people here are pretty accepting.” He caught the look on Arthur’s face. “Fine, fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut. Now c’mon, you need a room and a job, and I need a nice cold drink.”

Arthur nodded and flushed a bit at the last part, but luckily for him, Alfred had already turned away and was pushing through the doors to get inside. He hurried after him and entered right behind.

“Hiya! Hero’s here!” Alfred announced, drawing everyone’s attention to him, and consequently Arthur.

Luckily for him – again – though, it was just after noon so there weren’t that many people there, most of them being at the local mines. The saloon itself was tidy and well kept. The main drinking and dining room had about fifteen round wooden tables scattered around it, and a piano in the corner. A dark-haired man was playing a slow tune on it. There was a bar in the back, next to a door that presumably led to the kitchen. A short, dirty-blond man stood behind the bar, while a green-eyed woman was coming out of the kitchen with a platter of food in her arms. It smelled delicious.

The woman smiled at Alfred, while the other people went back to what they were doing before, clearly used to the routine. “Hello, Alfred! Did you sort out the trouble? What was it?”

“Oh, hey Liz.” Alfred strode over to her, dragging Arthur behind him. The Englishman received some curious stares, but he tuned them out. “It was Ivan again. He was terrorizin’ Mister Kirkland here, but I saved him!”

Elizaveta’s gaze turned to Arthur, who by now managed to get out of Alfred’s grip. “Hello there, Mr. Kirkland. Are you new here?”

“Please, call me Arthur, miss,” Arthur said, inclining his head to her. “And yes, I am new to the area.”

Alfred burst out laughing at the action, holding his stomach and trying to keep it quiet. Elizaveta promptly whacked him with a ladle she had whipped out of seemingly nowhere. The tray of food was balanced on one arm.

“Don’t you laugh, you great big oaf! There’s nothin’ wrong with being polite!” she scolded him. She then went on to hit Arthur over the head in the same fashion.

“Wha- Ow! M-Miss, what was that for?” Arthur cried, hands going up to gingerly touch his forehead. “Have I offended you in some way?”

Elizaveta brandished the ladle at him, clipping him on the shoulder with it. “Yes, you have. My name is Elizaveta, or Liz, or even Lizzie. Not ‘miss’. Got it?”

“Yes, mi- err, Liz,” Arthur said, quickly backing out of her reach.

Alfred chuckled again. “You’re still good with that thing, Lizzie.”

Elizaveta twirled the ladle expertly before hooking it back onto her belt. “I had a lot of practice,” she said, then abruptly sobered up. “Excuse me. I’ll be right with you, Arthur.” She hurried off to deliver the food.

Arthur glanced at Alfred, but the other man simply smiled. “C’mon, Artie, there are two stools open by the bar,” he said, going to the free seats at the end of the long counter.

Arthur followed him and sat down, ordering some tea. The barkeep gave him a strange look but went off to make it, sliding Alfred a mug of cold beer along the way. When he did get his tea, Arthur sat there quietly, taking small sips. The tea was nowhere near the quality back home, but he had to admit it wasn’t awful. Alfred was telling him some story about how he’d rescued some girl from a group of outlaws – not Ivan – but he tuned the American out.

Elizaveta returned a few minutes later, and Alfred shut up when she got close. “So, Arthur, what are you looking for here?”

“Well, a room would be nice, if you have one, and a job,” Arthur replied immediately. “Preferably inside.”

“I should have a spare room upstairs for fifty cents a night,” Elizaveta said after a moment of thinking. “And you could always work in the mine. It’s inside, and they could always use a new worker. Alfred helps out sometimes, when he’s not off doing who knows what.”

“Hey! You know I help with the cattle over in Ashton when they need it! And I rescue people! Especially pretty lasses in desperate need of a cowboy on a great black stallion…” Alfred trailed off, thinking about all the beautiful girls that would be throwing themselves at him, thanking him profusely for saving them and then going on to kiss him. Oh, and the occasional cute guy, too.

Arthur, who had been frozen in shock since the word ‘mine’, recovered now. “You really are an airhead, aren’t you?” he asked Alfred. Well, that didn’t help his pride at all. It had already been shot by the very fact that he had needed to be rescued, and the realization that Alfred was kind of an idiot killed it off entirely. A noble idiot, it seemed, but an idiot nonetheless.

Said idiot blinked. “Wha?”

“You can’t just go around expecting that pretty ladies will pop up out of the blue in need of saving, give you a kiss, and then vanish. Plus you have a pinto mare, not a black stallion.”

“Why not? It’s worked a few times before,” Alfred said happily, downing the rest of his beer and standing up. He ignored the comment about his horse.

Arthur rolled his eyes and took another small sip of tea. “You’re leaving?” he asked once he’d realized Alfred’s position.

Alfred looked down and flashed him a brilliant smile. “Yeah. Liz’ll take care of ya now, and I got some stuff to do. If you’re stayin’ in town, I’ll see you around later!” He slid the mug to the barkeep and walked out, waving to Arthur and Elizaveta as he left.

Elizaveta had gotten a strange glint in her eye, but no one noticed it. “So no mines then, Arthur?” she asked with a chuckle.

“No. You wouldn’t need an extra hand around here, would you? I can cook, and I worked as a bartended in the city for a while,” Arthur suggested.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “You can cook?”

“Yes. My mother taught me a few recipes when I was younger.”

“Alright,” Elizaveta said, clapping her hands together. “I’ll show you to your room so you can get settled in, and then tomorrow you can demonstrate your cooking skills to me.”

Arthur nodded and she led him up the staircase in the back to the upper floor, which had eight small rooms down the one corridor. Elizaveta explained that one of them was the bathroom and that she and her husband Roderich, the piano player, stayed in the first room. The remaining six were rented out to travellers. She gave Arthur the room next to theirs and told him that if he ended up with a job she’d let him permanently rent it out, docking the fee from his salary. The Englishman readily accepted the offer, and she left him to unpack his possessions.

The room was simply furnished, with nothing but a bed, a small dresser, a desk, and a rickety chair. Arthur had a few extra sets of clothes, which he promptly refolded and placed away carefully in the dresser. The only other things he had brought were two small boxes of tea leaves, for emergencies, and a few books including a sketchbook. Those he organized according to thickness and length on the desk. Then he was done. He walked over to the window and was pleased to see a pretty desert view. 

Suddenly, there was a commotion from downstairs. Being used to such arguments from back home, Arthur easily ignored it as he fell back on the bed and closed his eyes. Elizaveta knocked on his door a while later.

“Arthur?” she asked. “Are you done?”

Arthur woke with a start. “Huh-? Yes, yes, I’m finished.” He got up and opened the door, letting her into the room.

She looked tired, but there was a small smile on her face. “You said earlier that you were good at mixing drinks?”

“Yes…why? What happened?”

“Well, we need a new barkeep. If you can mix and serve drinks well enough, the job’s yours,” she replied, a shadow over her eyes.

Arthur deliberated for a moment. He could recall Alfred saying something about the barkeeps changing around a lot lately, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be just another one who left quickly. But then again, a job was a job, and he needed the money.

“When would I start?” he finally asked.

Elizaveta’s smile grew wider. “Perfect! You’d have to start right now. Do you have a white shirt and a vest with you?”

“Yes to the shirt, no to the vest,” Arthur said after taking a quick mental inventory of his clothing.

“Oh that’s no problem, I have something that will fit you perfectly.”

Arthur was slightly worried by the tone her voice had taken on, but he didn’t resist when she dragged him down. A while later, he ended up behind of the bar in his best shirt and a tight, form-fitting dark red vest that showed off his slight curves and muscles, and oddly accentuated his eyes.

A short line of angry cowboys and miners who had come from their work in need of a drink had formed while the new barkeep was getting ready, but Arthur soon got the hand of the drinks and everyone got what they wanted. Some of the names and dialect confused him at first, but he was a quick learner and had some help from the customers themselves, so after about an hour and a half he was working quickly and smoothly. His knowledge of English and eastern American drinks didn’t hurt either.

Elizaveta was just glad she had managed to find a new barkeep so quickly. Things had been difficult since- no. She shook her head to stop her mind from going down that path. What she didn’t know was that, by giving Arthur this job, she had saved the residents of Willow Springs from a great evil- Arthur’s cooking.

When there was a lull in the traffic by the bar – everyone wanted to test out the new barkeep’s skills and luckily Arthur managed to pass all of their criteria – she walked over and explained how their system of pay and rent would work. She set the rent for eight dollars a month, which she would automatically deduct from his pay at the end of the month, right in front of him even, if he didn’t trust her. Since at the moment Arthur didn’t have too much money to spare, she would pay him weekly, with a two dollar deduction. After he’d saved up a bit, the pay check would be monthly. His pay would change and fluctuate a bit every month depending on how much traffic there was, but it generally stayed around the same amount, and she reassured him that if he was smart with it, he would have enough for his needs. Plus, he got to keep whatever small tips he received each night.

Arthur nodded after taking in the information. “That works for me,” he said, and then had to go back to the drinks as a few more people entered.

Elizaveta returned to the kitchen after that, those same people wanting food to go with their alcohol.

Roderich’s playing soothed Arthur into a pleasant rhythm as the evening turned into the later hours of the night. Elizaveta twice brought him food, a hearty meal in the late afternoon just as he started, and then a lighter snack later on to keep his energy up. Arthur was a bit disappointed when he was closing up that Alfred hadn’t come back, but he did his best to banish such thoughts from his mind as he cleaned up the bar, bid Elizaveta and Roderich good night, and went up to his room. Exhausted from the day’s actions, he fell asleep almost immediately.

[whitelippedviper]

Mobile Suit Gundam: The Origin. Fuck war, love comics.

So I’m making my way through Yoshikazu Yasuhiko’s Mobile Suit Gundam: The Origin and like I’ve seen Yaz’s work before.  I have the first volume of Venus Wars--but it just didn’t click for me. MSG: The Origin tho is goddamn sorcery on the page. You need to know this first off, you don’t need to know anything about Gundam to read this.  The whole thing is this is the book retelling the story that started it all but like Yaz’s from the heart version.  And two volumes in, which is like...1000 pages of comics, and this is a masterpiece.  

I’m mostly going to talk about the art, but story wise, military stuff is generally not my bag.  Unfortunately, it’s a genre that is grossly popular in American comics, not just in straightforward military stories, but superhero comics as well.  Too often these heroes have design updates that are all too happily to enlist heroes whose past models leaned more heavily into daredevil circus performers or wrestlers.  You know the look.  When your favorite hero goes from tights and a cape look to body armor looking shit everywhere.  War on crime right? And then these companies on their film side have all kinds of connections to the military industrial complex--hell these companies often employ ex-military, or in some notable cases ex-CIA to write the damn books.  And when you couple that with how interested the military has always been with warping people’s brains to keep the war machine humming(they once put acid in a whole town’s water supply just to see what would happen!) it’s quite unnerving!  So besides being extremely anti-war in practice, I’m also pretty tin foil hat when it comes to seeing the edges of the military in pop culture, particularly when the message is like “look how cool this is!”

Which as a sidebar is one of the things that makes the Aubrey Sitterson GI Joe thing complicated to me, because like...I don’t think GI Joe is a good thing, and I don’t believe leftists should be getting their pay pushing paper for something that could not BE more military industrial.  Like let's make kids think how cool being a soldier and going to war is--and then those kids grow up, and what a surprise we are in like ten wars that we know about, and will be for forever--and you get this kind of brainwashing that turns Kapernick trying to say “hey, maybe cops should stop shooting black men” into a debate about “respecting the flag” because the NFL is in bed with the military….agh.  I hate it.  I hate it all.  From Operation Condor, the firebombings of dresden, hiroshima and nagasaki, the genocide of the american indian, fallujah, Abu Ghraib, our complicity in Saudi atrocities in Yemen and Qatar...we are not the good guys of history!  We kill for empire, but our empire isn’t colonies, it’s more war. Our chief export is war.  And I would love to expatriate to a country that doesn’t have these values, but I don’t know if even then I could shake that shit from my stomach.  And even more insidious than our war is our financial arm, our banks and investors who have killed as many people with pens as any soldiers with guns.  We are an empire of atrocity!

So when I see military comics, or cop comics, it just reminds me that I live in the most warlike country of the last 100 years, and all of those innocent people that are caught up in our bombs, and the way we turn whole regions into chaos to serve our ends and make more money--my relative prosperity as an American is built on the bodies and bloodshed of innocents the world over.  I mean why is America what America is?  It’s because WW2 basically moved europe's wealth to the US, and then we spent it on more bombs and we stepped in not because of any real moral thing--we stepped in because england owed us too much for us to let them go down.  We as a country became a world superpower, the world superpower, through war profiteering and slavery.  That’s a huge aside, but I’m saying, I fucking hate war.  And maybe find ways to not contribute to more of those sort of comics?  But more than that in an aesthetic sense, the codes for military in American comics are so bland and it seems half the time to justify not having to do interesting character designs. So surely there is a better fit for someone like Sitterson who has the politics I do, I think, than writing war comics to a patriotic pro-military audience, so I wish him the best, but fuck GI Joe. (And as an aside aside, if it were Frank Miller and not Aubrey Sitterson with the controversial opinion that book isn’t getting dropped--these companies only do these things as financial calculations, and if you are a big enough cash cow you can say or do whatever you want in comics for the most part but if you aren’t--you better protect your neck because these companies don’t have your interests in mind. And we live in stupid times) So I can fuck with Gundam because 1) it hates war as much as I do. And 2) they’re not trying to make everything look like utilitarian military shit.  They’re about looking goood while they are hating war.   The story is really rich, background characters positively radiate and each have their own character which comes to the fore at different parts.  In some respects, Amuro Ray haunts this comic like death, because he’s the end of so many terrific characters that you really grow to love, and the Federation cause is somewhat murky at best, as is their exploitation of kids like Amuro. I kind of think Yaz does my favorite faces in all of comics, unseating Jose Munoz:

This kind of caricaturing is really lovely for a story this rich and dense, because you get so much just from how a character looks and the faces they make, and it’s quite appealing to look at I think.  There are characters you fall in love with just because you want to see Yaz draw their face again.  The range of expressions he has in the toolkit is amazing to me. Yaz’s style in general to me is like magic.  Lines don’t connect, and it’s like he can just shift around these minimal set of lines and accomplish anything on the page.  It’s like he has a set number of lines that he’s working with on every page, and he just dips his brush into the page and waves it around and those lines bend and contort into perfection.  He’s one like Kirby where he kind of just sits down at a page and the images come out of his brain.

 It’s not overly rendered, but it still is textural and inky.  I think this also has my favorite lettering in comics.  I don’t know who was responsible for it in english, but I love the obvious care that went into varying the lettering, and just how gentle and elegant it is.  It probably was just a font in a computer--but it doesn’t FEEL like that, which is cool. Oh also Yaz watercolors various pages in the book, and they are almost all stunning.  I’m planning to read his Joan of Arc book which is all watercolored, so that should be interesting. But I think what comes across more than anything reading these books, because of not only the comic, but the production value of the books themselves--the hard cover, the essays at the back, the slick pages, the thoughtful lettering--what comes across from stem to stern is that these books are a labor of love and passion in a way that you would not expect from the retelling of a decades old giant anime franchise!

Hideaki Anno said in his essay in the first book: “And I sense a certain good grace.  He decides to draw Gundam--well known to the masses as a premier franchise of the plastic model and anime industries--not from weariness, not as expiation, nor to return to his roots, but in earnest as a work of his own” and I think he’s absolutely correct.  There’s a love and attention to every inch of these books that is really inspiring to behold whether as an artist or in whatever you do to fill out your days--seeing something, anything, done by a master, with care and concern is a special thing to behold.  I mean I don’t know for sure that Yaz actually gives a shit about this book--but that’s what comes across on the page.  It comes across that he cares about these lines, about these stories, vividly, and even more surprising, the people whose charge is getting the work out to others, they seem to care just as much, so what you get is a very very special book.

In some ways, these dueling masters, Char and Amuro Ray, also express this concern and care.  At one point Char loudly criticizes Amuro Ray for his lack of style.  And while Char’s vanity, his secrecy, his romantic rogue ideal is extremely alluring, and any scene he’s in, I’m pretty glued to the page--he’s like Harlock or Queen Emeraldas.  We don’t have these kind of artist villains in American comics for some reason.  The closest I’ve seen was Ron Wimberly’s Prince of Cats which has characters who besides their bloody monstrous ideas, consider style to be important.

But even with all of that going on with Char, I’m surprisingly drawn to Amuro Ray--who is a character even without watching the original Gundam series(something I’m planning to rectify this winter--trying to finally knock out all the Gundam I’ve put off for years) that you just kind of know even without ever knowing why.  He’s a legend.  Like Luke Skywalker.  Even his name when you say it, you feel like you are speaking the name of a god.  But he’s a punk kid who has been dragged into this war against his will, and is desperately trying to balance doing the right thing, and keeping his identity.  I love that sometime he just refuses to go out in the Gundam which puts Ltg Bright in these particular binds(Bright might lo key be my favorite character in the series weirdly, for how he kind of morphs through being a snotty prick, to being in over his head, to being someone capable of real genius creativity. I’ve been watching Iron Blooded Orphans which is a Gundam series about child soldiers and is really brutal and depressing, and Orga is kind of like Bright mixed with Char.) His mercurial nature speaks to the nature of his art versus Char.  Amuro Ray belongs to the fickleness of inspiration, so because of that he’s not really reliable, but when he shows up he’s capable of things Char isn’t, moments of improvisation and grouchy genius that are the linchpins of the romantic appeal of the series.  

Versions of this character archetype I feel usually are supposed to be incompetent or dumb to those around them, but their conviction carries them, they have the most will--but in Amuro Ray’s case, he’s just an asshole.  The despair of it all, which is never lost on Amuro is that whether he does something, or doesn’t do something, people are going to die and it’s going to hurt.  And knowing that, that in the end horror is inescapable, and that death is undefeated--like what do you do?  How do you function?  What do you choose when there are no good choices?  Char is a little different, because his aim is revenge.  Which that side of Char that he hides behind his rogue’s grin, and devilish acts is really stunning when it first comes out in these early books.  He’s so careful to let that out, and when it does, you’re like “oh man, Char isn’t playing the same game the rest of you are”.  Agh.  It’s soo good. Comics like these keep the fires going.  There’s an infinity of them out there to be sure, but nothing makes me happier than a truly great comic.  Those comics that years after you remember the experience of reading them, where you were, what music was playing.  A great comic is a great lover.  It won’t last forever, though there’s a LOT of this book still for me to read--and I get in this mode where I both want to just inhale the whole comic as fast possible, and I don’t want this experience to end.  This is that sort of thing.  Which should be evident, since I bothered to write about it, haha.  I could never just review comics.  I’m like Amuro Ray with comics criticism, I need the right situation to be compelled to climb in and do it.  I don’t fundamentally love writing comics criticism--but when I experience something great, I have to talk about it and write about it.  Comics like these affirm everything about being involved with comics for me.  Check it out, see if you feel the same way.

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