#unappreciated superheroes

[ominous-feychild-writes]

“What if we just… quit?” I ask suddenly.

Noah is washing the dirt and plaster off his arms, scrubbing them so hard that what little of his skin isn’t scarred is bright pink. His scars are so faded that they look decades old.

We’re only twenty, but he looks so much older.

“I can’t,” he says simply, not looking at me as he washes the last bit of soap down the sink. His voice barely even broke.

The television host’s voice chatters for us.

“Stormwalker and Supernova: heroes, or no better than the villains?” it says, staticky from poor connection.

Our apartment is on the outskirts of the city—even as government workers, we’re paid far too little to live downtown. Even if it’d make our jobs easier to be there.

“—today the two heroes helped make a record number of arrests, stopping three riots and two villain attacks within one day. But are they any—”

“Why not?” I ask, pushing myself off the stool and moving to put a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugs it off.

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

He finally turns to look at me, silent resignation written all over his face. He tries to fake a reassuring smile, but I know better.

“—left thousands of dollars in damages and thousands more homeless as—”

That’s their excuse for paying us so little. ‘Because they need it to repair the destruction left in our wake.’ ‘If we want to be paid better, we should do a better job; don’t cause so much damage.’

If it’s so easy, why don’t you do it yourself? Try dodging lasers while saving people, while leading the villains away from populated areas, while trying to take them down! Then—then you can tell us to ‘do a better job!’

“Even if they can’t appreciate it,” Noah finishes defeatedly.

The pain in his eyes makes me want to fly all the way to the reporters, standing out front of the half-destroyed West Bank and talking trash about us, and to punch them so hard they go flying into the wreckage themselves.

Like Noah was when Genesis made him pick between himself and the people trying to flee the streets.

Lasers do an incredible amount of damage, even to people whose skin is hard as rock and bones are hard as steel. Even Noah—Stormwalker himself—couldn’t fight against those.

That kind of force—powerful enough to send a man of steel through stone walls—is strong enough to cause cuts and scrapes and bruises on one of the strongest heroes in the world.

But, yeah. ‘Do better.’

I can’t even step in myself. I have to stand back from afar, watching Noah get bloodied and bruised while reporters salivate at the thought of talking shit about us once the danger is over. I have to wait for Noah to get close enough for me to heal him.

Because that’s all I can do. Heal.

Next to Noah, I feel useless.

I’m just as squishy as everyone else, but I still put myself at risk in order to help the heroes. Well, mostly just Noah. But he and Supernova are the only heroes in this city, so.

‘Do better,’ they say.

I want to spit in all of their faces.

‘It’s the right thing to do, even if they don’t appreciate it,’ Noah says.

“Okay,” I say gently. I fight the urge to cup my hand around his cheek.

Part 2 | Part 3

Divider from @cafekitsune

[ominous-feychild]

“What if we just… quit?” I ask suddenly.

Noah is washing the dirt and plaster off his arms, scrubbing them so hard that what little of his skin isn’t scarred is bright pink. His scars are so faded that they look decades old.

We’re only twenty, but he looks so much older.

“I can’t,” he says simply, not looking at me as he washes the last bit of soap down the sink. His voice barely even broke.

The television host’s voice chatters for us.

“Stormwalker and Supernova: heroes, or no better than the villains?” it says, staticky from poor connection.

Our apartment is on the outskirts of the city—even as government workers, we’re paid far too little to live downtown. Even if it’d make our jobs easier to be there.

“—today the two heroes helped make a record number of arrests, stopping three riots and two villain attacks within one day. But are they any—”

“Why not?” I ask, pushing myself off the stool and moving to put a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugs it off.

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

He finally turns to look at me, silent resignation written all over his face. He tries to fake a reassuring smile, but I know better.

“—left thousands of dollars in damages and thousands more homeless as—”

That’s their excuse for paying us so little. ‘Because they need it to repair the destruction left in our wake.’ ‘If we want to be paid better, we should do a better job; don’t cause so much damage.’

If it���s so easy, why don’t you do it yourself? Try dodging lasers while saving people, while leading the villains away from populated areas, while trying to take them down! Then—then you can tell us to ‘do a better job!’

“Even if they can’t appreciate it,” Noah finishes defeatedly.

The pain in his eyes makes me want to fly all the way to the reporters, standing out front of the half-destroyed West Bank and talking trash about us, and to punch them so hard they go flying into the wreckage themselves.

Like Noah was when Genesis made him pick between himself and the people trying to flee the streets.

Lasers do an incredible amount of damage, even to people whose skin is hard as rock and bones are hard as steel. Even Noah—Stormwalker himself—couldn’t fight against those.

That kind of force—powerful enough to send a man of steel through stone walls—is strong enough to cause cuts and scrapes and bruises on one of the strongest heroes in the world.

But, yeah. ‘Do better.’

I can’t even step in myself. I have to stand back from afar, watching Noah get bloodied and bruised while reporters salivate at the thought of talking shit about us once the danger is over. I have to wait for Noah to get close enough for me to heal him.

Because that’s all I can do. Heal.

Next to Noah, I feel useless.

I’m just as squishy as everyone else, but I still put myself at risk in order to help the heroes. Well, mostly just Noah. But he and Supernova are the only heroes in this city, so.

‘Do better,’ they say.

I want to spit in all of their faces.

‘It’s the right thing to do, even if they don’t appreciate it,’ Noah says.

“Okay,” I say gently. I fight the urge to cup my hand around his cheek.

Parts 2&3

[the-dixon-effect]

For a brief moment, the colourful pages of the comic book had captivated you and caused you to lose focus on your actual objective. The mall was cleared of rotters, and it wasn’t exactly like you had somewhere to be. Truth be told, you didn’t know a thing about superheroes, though, during an apocalypse, it didn’t surprise you that the comic book store was the only place that hadn’t been completely ransacked. Gotta start somewhere, you figured. The vivid characters dancing across the thin pages seemed to know exactly where they were, what their purpose was. Not that you particularly understood the absurd plot of the first book that you picked up, but, it was clear to you. This was a time capsule, an artefact of a world left behind where imagination and creativity were the most admirable of traits. Where in a world that could numb you to your core, little girls and boys still dreamed of becoming Superman or Black Widow when they grew up. You snapped out of your daydreams and decided that perhaps it was unhealthy to fixate on the old world too much. Maybe Carl would enjoy some of these, you thought.

“Hey,” a voice came from the entrance of the store, causing you to abruptly turn around and hide the book behind your back. “Still a couple scraps over in tha’ food court. Are ya’ reading?” Daryl drawled, crossbow slung over his shoulder as he moved to enter the store, looking around in a state of somewhat confusion.

“Uhh, yeah,” you began, a little embarrassed to be caught engaging in something so futile, especially by the man who seemed so unappreciative of useless leisure.

“What, ya’ like comic books or somethin’?” he said, leaning over you attempting to get a look at whatever you were reading.

“No, not really, I just never really got the chance to be a kid, y’know.” It seemed strange to be opening up about that subject to Daryl, and though you were friends, he didn’t know much about your past.

“Nah. Me neither.  Merle used ta’ like these comics but I was never into ‘em.”

“Oh, really? What did you wanna be when you were older?” you said, placing the book back on the shelf and turning to meet his eyes.

“When I was little, I always said me and Merle were gon’ be King of the Forest. I mean, that was ‘fore he left,” he laughed a little and you smiled deeply at the brief sound of joy in his voice, before you saddened at the mention of his flaky brother.

“Well, I think you’ve definitely earned that title now. Daryl Dixon, King of the Forest,” you joked. Maybe you were wrong about him.

prompt: “I never really got to be a kid,”

[michaelnordeman]

Amazing photography! I especially love all the nuthatches, they are very unappreciated birds. I hope you enjoy knowing that your lovely cat has a Canadian cousin named Percival

Thank you so much! Nuthatches are wonderful. I often affectionately think of the nuthatches in my garden as the clowns of Käxsundet (that's where I live). They are loud and noisy; they run up and down the trees and they are anything but shy when it comes to finding food. They have those typical nuthatch poses, a little bit like those superhero poses red squirrels sometimes pull off. Oh, and have you ever seen a male nuthatch dance for a potential partner? It's extremely awkward but also very charming. I have some pictures of it somewhere here on my Tumblr.

Percival is very handsome and Keiko sends love to her Canadian cousin!

[ordinaryschmuck]

I have plans for a web comic. Your standard, superhero comic, written and illustrated by me and likely ONLY by me. A comic that has this premise:

"When some of the world's mightiest heroes are discovered to be dead, with more villains growing and super killers out in the world, it's up for humanity's last hope to band together as a single team for justice. Unfortunately, humanity's last hope includes a narcissist, a coward, an idiot keeps losing fights, a homeless person who wants a normal life, a super genius that's thirteen-year-old, a shape-shifting pacifist, and a recovering drunk leading them all. Will they be able to save the world? Well...They'll certainly try."

It'll have lots of stuff that makes superheroes fun. Action, comedy, heroes being human, struggling to do good for both the world and for the people in their lives, tragic backstories that show why the heroes make sure no one has as bad of a day as they did, SELECTIVE intense violence, heroes advocating for redemption over final acts of violence, and some gay characters...Alright, that last one's more or less implied in most superhero content, but why not include here, right?

I love this idea, these characters, and all the plans I have for them. The problem? On the internet, it's a shot in the dark if whether or not what you make is popular. And I don't know if my heart can take it if the first few pages of my comic go up, and only ten people see it with two of them liking it. I can't take it anymore. I've tried three times to make a webcomic, really trying to make something good and pouring everything I have into each one, only for my work to go unnoticed and unappreciated.

"Maybe they're not good."

Yeah. Maybe. Maybe my writing's not good enough to stand out. Maybe my art-style isn't appealing enough to some people. Maybe my jokes aren't funny enough. Maybe my ideas aren't interesting enough. Maybe my story's aren't profound enough. Maybe...I'M not good enough.

...But at least maybe it'll be worth another shot. Who knows, this will finally be the one to worth trying and get a lot of attention. At least, worth trying for a year and see how big the numbers are. But here's the thing: I want to make sure first. I want to know, going in, that I'll have enough people supporting me.

So, here's what I want: 1,000 notes. I don't want money, I don't want donations, I want 1,000 notes on THIS POST to tell me that my creative mind is worth creating again. If I get 1,000 notes, at any point throughout...let's say the rest of the year, then I'll do it.

I'll make another webcomic. And hopefully don't waste my life doing it.

[marinettesaltprompts]

Inspired by one of maribat-menagerie's proposals

One of the big things that happen in almost every Maribat fic is Adrien getting stripped of his Miraculous so a batboy can be the Black Cat. But you could actually play with this idea of Adrien becoming Catwoman's apprentice/accomplice:

The story starts in stereotypical Maribat fashion with Marinette feeling unappreciated for her efforts and easily falling for whatever Batboy came into town to solve all her problems. Things progress as normal: Robin uncovers Gabriel, Lila gets sent packing and Adrien gets thrown to the wolves because he didn't do what the Batboy did- left to enjoy the association of being Hawkmoth's son while losing Plagg.

Because it turns out that Ladybug does actually believe in the idea that the holders of creation and destruction are soulmates, just not with him.

Anyhow normally this is where Adrien's story in a Maribat fic would end. He's condemned to a mundane life of public disgrace and suffering while Marinette goes to Gotham to live the superhero dream.

But not this time. Sure, Marinette leave with her Box and the Ring now fits on Robin's finger, but Adrien's not quite done. Sure it seems that way and as he retreats from public life under the heat of condemnation he falls into a deep depression. He's lost everything. His friends (can't be associated with Hawkmoth's son). His family (Nathalie is probably dead, Gabriel is in prison forever and The Gorilla needs employment after all). Even his home was seized by the The State- if not for a small trust fund Nathalie had had the foresight to set up for him he'd have nowhere to live at all.

The best he can do is live in an old house far in the countryside, hoping that people won't recognize him with his dyed black hair. At this point, all Adrien has to his name of his old life are his parents rings- one last gift snuck to him by Nathalie. Holding a secret within whose revelation robbed him of even his humanity.

It seems that after everything he did to try and make a life for himself outside of his gilded cage, he's doomed to spend his life in this new one. A cage made of crumbling old walls who were his only protection from a hostile world beyond them.

At least until one day, a certain Cat shows up. Not Plagg as Adrien dreamed of seeing again, or even the Robin who appeared in his nightmares to taunt him, but the infamous antihero Catwoman.

She' was surprised that he noticed her sneaking in, but Adrien's senses were still sharp from his time as Chat Noir. But it makes no real difference, one way or the other she's leaving with what she came for: The Graham de Vanily rings.

It turns out that his dear Auntie still wanted "her heirlooms" back, so she'd contracted Catwoman to go get them. Normally she wouldn't take such contracts, but with the Bats having ready access to magical jewellery her usual picking grounds were becoming harder to play in.

This breaks something in Adrien. After everything he's lost, after everyone had abandoned him in one way or the other, after neither Felix or Amelie could be bothered to help him in his time of need they still wouldn't let him have his soul?

Catwoman seems bemused by his spluttering, but she's intrigued enough to let him elaborate. Adrien knows from one look at her that he has no chance of beating her in a fight anyway, she'd get his rings one way or the other so he might as well tell her the truth. It's not like he owed anyone his silence and no one had actually cared about his side of the story since he'd lost Plagg.

So he spills. He takes the chance to rant about his situation, how he'd tried his best to be Ladybug's partner but he'd been pushed away, sidelined without cause. how his parents had had a magical slave collar on him since his creation. How his friends had abandoned him, how Ladybug who'd promised him "them against the world" had dropped him like garbage the second she'd gotten a "better model".

Selena listens, but she also happens to know Marinette herself- at least through others and knows the story on both sides now. So she bemusedly tries to correct him- only to find herself corrected:

Catwoman: You didn't exactly try to help her that much did you though?

Adrien: Ladybug pushed me away every time I tried. But I was always there for her. Every time she needed someone to fall on his sword for a plan. Every time she needed a shield I used myself. The one time I failed to show up, she stopped calling on me and started using an entire team instead.

...

Catwoman: Were you really that great a partner though? Robin picked up the ring and did a better job than you did even though you'd had it for months, plus all the training as a holder the old Guardian gave you that Robin didn't have while he was in France.

Adrien: What training? Fu never trained me. I didn't even know he trained Ladybug. As for Robin, maybe the fact that he's been trained by Batman for years before he even came to Paris might play a factor?

You know, I had martial arts and acrobatics before I put on the ring but I'll bet training under "the dark knight" might just be a bit above that. Oh, and Ladybug actually told Robin things. I didn't even know about the Grimoire until after the last battle.

...

Selena: But what about your friends? I've done my research you know? They said you were two-faced and cowardly, you knew about Lila and did nothing. You got your friend Marinette to take the high road and do the same.

Adrien: Did nothing? As far as I knew when I gave that advice Lila was just lying for attention and the first time I tried to get her to stop she got Akumatised on the spot. Marinette was freaking out and acting crazy, the only thing she was doing was making herself look worse in front of the class and risking Lila getting Akumatised again. It was the best advice I could give her until Hawkmoth was captured, or unless someone could prove she'd done something bad enough to get her sent out of Paris.

But I did what I could.

When Lila got Marinette expelled, I was the one who stepped up and helped her. No one else. I couldn't prove anything. I'm not a Robin trained by the Greatest Detective in the world. But I knew what Lila wanted and I used myself as collateral to get her to stop.

And two-faced? That's rich from my "friends". I've had time to think and realise what they were doing all those times they left me and Marinette together. Even before they left me out to dry they treated me more like some prize for Marinette to win instead of a friend, it was all some big game to them.

Now none of them speak to me now that I'm not a rich-boy celebrity anymore. It's like they all decided that I'm responsible for their mistakes with Lila.

---

And so the conversation continues. For the first time, Adrien finally gets to tell his side of the story, even if it's to someone who came to rob him of the one thing of value he had left. And Selena... is intrigued.

She looks carefully over the boy. He's a pretty thing, but he's also clearly strong. There's still lean muscle on him despite the year trapped in this miserable little house. It suddenly strikes her ironically just how much like one of Bruce's Robin's he is- especially with his hair dyed black.

An athletic, intelligent young man made from birth to be a perfect heir to an evil father? One whose socialization had come far, far too late to be healthy? An echo of Damian.

All around her were cheap, but well-read books on an eclectic range of subjects. Tim would find plenty of common interests with this one.

The spark wasn't there now, not in this broken shell of a boy. But when Chat Noir had been in his prime even Dick would have found a cat-themed mirror for his puns and the sheer joy he took in his freedom as a superhero.

Thankfully there's precious little of Jason in him and the similarities to the rest of the bat-family faded from there. But it was undeniable how well he fit the shape of a Robin, even down to the lack of a family with Gabriel Agreste apparently having no interest in his son even before his life sentence.

But he wasn't a Robin now was he? He was a cat.

And in this place, in this dead-end of a life: he had nothing to lose.

Selena asks him for his rings.

Adrien, exhausted from his rant, simply hands them over. What would be the point in fighting?

But to his surprise: Selene doesn't leave or mock him or anything else that he expected. But rather she raises the rings to her skilled eyes to make sure she had the real things and then asks him a question;

Answer me; was anything you just said a lie?

Adrien is compelled to confirm that it was the truth.

Selena considers him once more. Considers his performance as Chat Noir again. Considers what he'd achieved without the training he should have had.

There was potential here. Potential that had been discarded and left to rot. Potential with no loyalties left to his family, friends or anything else. With a new name, a new mask: this boy could become to her what Bruce's Robins were to him.

And really, the Vanily's money couldn't really compare to what she could do with a kitten of her own. One with a bit of resentment ready to be aimed at Bruce's new foundlings that were annoying her so badly.

Selena: So Adrien, you were a bit of a rulebreaker once upon a time. Do you still have that in you?

It turns out that Adrien very much did.

Wonderful prompt! A lot of salt fic stories don't tend to focus on what would come after the story ends, it just assumes that anyone that isn't Marinette just lives miserably ever after. Having Adrien make a comeback without a even having a miraculous sounds actually dope.

[racefortheironthrone]

Not really directly related to the X-Men, but did you ever read the original series for the Power Pack? What did you think?

I'm a big Power Pack fan, having started with their intersections with the Claremont run - as I've talked about in the past, Claremont, Simonson, et al. were masters of the crossover, so it was natural that they would want to give a push to Weezy's characters in the X-books - that are rightfully considered classics because of the way they deftly managed pretty dark themes through the perspective of children.

As for their own adventures, the Power Pack are an unappreciated gem in Marvel's storied eighties, because of the way they break from the Marvel formula while operating seamlessly within the larger universe.

See, from the beginning of the Silver Age, Marvel differentiated itself from the Distinguished Competition by focusing like a laser on the teenage market rather than children. That's why Johnny Storm was a hotheaded teenage hearthrob, that's why Peter Parker started out as a normal, socially-awkward teen (just like you!), that's why the 05 X-Men were the "strangest teens of all!"

What Louise Simonson and June Brigman did with the Power Pack was to reinvent the child-centric focus of Golden Age D.C (think Robin and Superboy) and Charlton Comics (think the original Captain Marvel). Unlike those earlier child sidekicks and superkids, Alex, Julie, Jack, and Katie Power were not one-dimensional plucky moppets or precocious tiny adults.

Showing an impressive insight into child psychology, Weezy made them emotionally complex but also unmistakably still-in-development children, who were innocent and curious and boisterous but who also had tempers and got into fights with their siblings, or got scared and cried sometimes, who struggled with the desire for maturity and autonomy and the need for comfort and support from their parents. At the same time, June Brigman managed to do something that most professional comics artists notoriously struggle with: draw kids who looked like real kids, who were allowed to look goofy or awkward or gangly or rolypoly, rather than the idealized forms set down by the Nine Old Men.

And somehow, this alchemy made this book unusually emotionally resonant - although I may be something of an easy mark, because the Power Pack kids happened to be the children of Columbia University professors growing up in NYC's Upper West Side in the early 80s, just like me irl. While wrapped in a candy coating of kid superheroes with cool physics-based powers (Alex can control gravity by touching people or objects, Julie can turn into both waves and particles of light and fly at lightspeed, Jack can alter his body's density to become a miniature juggernaut or a living cloud, and five-year old Katie can turn matter into energy, absorb it, and fire it at the bad guys - the living embodiment of E=MC^2) fighting the evil alien Snarks with the help of a sentient spaceship, the Powers kids had to wrestle with having to hide their superheroics from their parents and the anxiety and guilt that resulted from that, and in their adventures they dealt with heavy topics like child abuse, gun violence, school bullying, mental illness and kidnapping and homelessness, and on and on.

Indeed, in the pages of X-Men, the Power Pack would go into the sewers under Manhattan to fight Sabertooth and the Marauders during the genocidal Morlock Massace, witness Wolverine wrestling with his humanity and his berserker rage in the Canadian wilderness, and fight to save Midtown New York from demonic incursions during Inferno. That's heavy stuff for a bunch of kids ranging from 5 to 12 years old, but somehow the Power Pack managed to make it through the most harrowing of adventures without losing their heroic spirit.

[abbatoirablaze]

Welcome To The Dollhouse, Alone In A Crowded Bed

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: slight angst

“And in recent news yet another woman has come forward-“

“Turn that damn thing off, will you sweetpea?” Sweetpea frowned at her benefactor but said nothing as she turned off the large screen television and turned her attention back to him.  Johnny smiled, eyes still closed as he stretched out, pushing some of the other girls a little further away from his naked form.  His eyes opened and he opened his arms, gesturing her towards him, “come back to bed, sweetpea…let’s have ourselves a very good morning.”

A few of the girls murmured a few unappreciative remarks, but they stopped when Johnny opened his eyes once more and shot them glares.

“Why don’t you girls make yourselves useful and get us something to eat!” he suggested, “you both proved that you were tired out after a round or two.”

Trisha removed herself from the bed, agreeing, and Johnny slapped her ass on the way out.

“Atta girl.  Jenna,  why don’t you see if Barnes and Rogers are freed up.  I wanna talk to them about getting a girl for the weekend.”

She made another remark to which Johnny frowned, “what was that?”

“Nothing, Johnny,” she lied, batting her lashes at him, “I’ll go see if they’re free for you.”

“If they aren’t, send Bunny down…I know the super soldiers gave her the authority to help out.”

“Yes sir…”

“Good girl!” he smirked, slapping her ass as she walked out as well.  Johnny sat up in the bed looking at Sweetpea, “You gonna make me get out of this nice warm bed and get you?”

“You’re just as warm as any bed, Johnny!”

He smiled, “Exactly.  So come back to bed, sweetpea…let me warm you up!”

“IS that a request, or a demand?” she teased, stalking back towards the bed. 

Johnny smiled, watching the younger woman crawling back towards him in his shirt, “you know…you’re lucky I let you get away with that mouth.”

“It’s because I’m your favorite.” She grinned, “and I know just how much you like it when that mouth is wrapped around your cock!”

“You are…” he admitted thoughtfully, “and I do love it.  It’s just too bad you’re hooked on someone else and not me.  You know I’d spring you from this place and buy you out in a heartbeat if you would let me.”

She frowned, “Johnny…don’t start up on that.”

“I know you watch the news every day since that cop outside the city was shot,” he frowned, “I know what you’re doing.  I know you watch to make sure that he doesn’t show up on the news…”

“Lee doesn’t mean-“

“Lee,” he chuckled, cutting her off, “see, most girls wouldn’t call him by his first name, let alone try defending him.”

“He’s not as bad as they think.”

“Lot of the girls talk,” he chuckled, snapping his fingers until a spark and flame appeared between them, “lot of them say he likes to get a little fiery with his play…”

“They say the same about you.”

He shrugged, the flame going out on its own, “there’s a difference between me and Bodecker.  I’m a young, in-shape superhero…he’s an aging, overweight sheriff.   Women here put up with a little more if you’ve got more pull.”

“I think Lee’s got plenty of pull, Johnny…”

“That why you still let me pick you up?” he asked, “why you stopped letting him take you upstairs to your room?”

She frowned, “now you’re just being mean, Johnny.”

“Just honest, Sweetpea…”

“I don’t think I like your honesty…”

“Never stopped us before,” he replied with a shrug, “you give it just as well as you take it.  And you only take it when the good sheriff has pissed you off.  So what did he do this time?”

“Just the usual…”

“Oh, that all?” he chuckled, “Lee’s a little worried that he’ll buy out your contract and you’ll change your mind and leave him, so he refused to buy you out when you asked again?”

“Johnny…”

“That why you wanna be alone in a crowded bed, sweetpea?” he asked, “because I know we both felt the same thing last night when all of us were just a tangle of limbs, in a mess of sweat, and orgasms…”

“And what’s that?”

“We were both wondering what the hell we’re doing in a place like this.” He sighed, “especially when we both know that we’re worth so much more than just meaningless orgasms.”

“I had no other option, Johnny.”

“You were working at Stark Towers as an assistant to Barnes and Rogers,” he chuckled as he shook his head, “you always had an option…you just thought you could go off and play live-in whore to get away from your problems because no one bothered to notice you beforehand.”

“And you figured if you stuck your dick in enough of us, you’d forget how alone you are.”

“Sweetpea, I don’t ever forget how alone I am.  Ever…” Johnny chuckled, “I know it…every date I go out on, every woman I fuck, every time I see anyone I know living some bullshit, happy, fulfilled life I remember that no one will ever truly love someone like me…”

“And why couldn’t they?” she asked, “Sue and Reed had each other.  Even Ben has a wife.”

“Because my other half doesn’t exist.  Fire always finds a way to burn it down,” he reminded her, “and in the end, it’s just me…alone in a crowded bed.”

“You’ve got me, Johnny…we can be alone in a crowded bed together.”

“I’m taking you for the weekend,” he said after a moment, “going to pull you from the dollhouse.  We don’t need these others in our way…”

“And why would you do something like that, Johnny?”

“Because I’m going to drop you off on the good sheriff’s front porch…and you’re going to tell him how you feel,” he said firmly, “you two have been avoiding each other for long enough.  And if you don’t tell him, he’s just gonna keep his distance, and you’re going to be a brat and let him do it…and there’s no reason for two people that belong together to go on thinking they need to be alone in a crowded bed.”

“How do you know how he feels, Johnny?” she growled, feeling angry at being told that she was going to have to confront Lee about what was going on, “he left me in that room.  He told me that he was not going to buy me out.”

“And we both know that you are one of the few girls that don’t have to be bought out,” he reminded her, “you’re just testing him, and it’s not funny!”

“I’m not trying to be funny, Johnny…” she spat, pushing herself out of the bed, “how hard is it for you to get it through your head that maybe I gave up my life because there wasn’t anything to it.  That maybe Steve and Bucky offered me the freedom in being one of their girls.  Here I’m wanted.  Here I-“

“Am a hole to fuck!” he agreed, cutting her off, “don’t get me wrong, sweetpea.  You’ve become one of my best friends in here…one of the only chicks that I can have a conversation and a mind-blowing orgasm with, but I know you and Lee have feelings for each other.  And I’ll be damned if I let you throw that away because you two are both too stubborn to see the other person’s side.”

[n64spoon]

random ted kord hc's because im going insane and need to spread propaganda SOMEWHERE.

love language (giving)

ive done alot if thinking about this one and have come to the conclusion that his love languages are acts of service and gift giving. i kinda based this decision off of how he acts with babs and booster in countdown to infinite crisis. dude is about to go bankrupt AGAIN but he's still offering to pay for tickets and lets booster borrow his card, even if it negatively affects him. hes a superhero for one but also his entire reasoning behind becoming the second blue beetle was because he feels like he OWES it to dan, he wants to make up for his blind faith to his uncle which lead to dans death. i think he loves doing favours for people because it makes him feel good about himself, and he loves the feeling of being appreciated.

love language (receiving)

words of affirmation and physical touch. he has boundaries when it comes to the physical touch of course, but booster is the main exception, with ted being quite touchy himself at times. i like to base this off of the first appearance of dan's death in blue beetle 1967 where as dan says his last words hes caressing teds face UGHH that shit fucks me up man -- but i can definitely imagine him melting in someones hands if they held his face or something (booster, of course).

then theres the words of affirmation. ted gets compliments alot, obviously, usually due to his status in hub city and his intelligence. but there are times where he feels unappreciated or isnt taken seriously, usually by higher ranked heroes (cough cough BATMAN cough) . in countdown to infinite crisis (yes im referencing this comic AGAIN im SORRY) he is pushed aside constantly by multiple people. the few people who did listen to him, namely superman and wonderwoman, its stated in booster gold 2007 he "felt bad for wasting their time.". ted needs reassurance, he needs to be reassured that he isnt a bother. though at times a wise-cracking jerk, he still does care about how others view him. and spending like most or his childhood being put down by his father and then years later by heroes he works with he deserves someone telling him he's doing good once in awhile 😭.

[imsparky2002]

Ghoul Squad - Adrien

Adrien - Human

Age - 14

Species - Human

Appearance -  Shaggy untamed blond hair, rosy cheeks, freckles, emerald green eyes, fair skin, peach fuzz

Attire - Orange, black and white Jack Skellington hoodie, blue jeans, Converse trainers, simple grey t-shirt, green Oogie Boogie backpack, orange beanie

Personality - Kind, innocent, has a usually hidden playful side, optimistic, understanding, passionate, spoopy (has a love for Halloween that he had to hide from his Dad)

Likes - His partners, video games, anime, Halloween, all things spooky, Nathalie, Nino, his other friends, charity, pumpkins, cats, monsters, scaring people (as Cat Astrophe), his kwami Cheshire, plain pancakes, acting

Dislikes - Modeling, Chloe and Lila, liars, unappreciative people, cauliflower, his father, people judging him at first glance, Hawk Moth, having to stay in his father’s home, bullying, Christmas

Adrien is the son of Gabriel Agreste. What his father doesn’t his realize is that his child is an avid lover of all things spooky and mysterious.

After heading to a pumpkin patch that he and his mother visited when she was alive, he finds a delightfully creepy-looking pumpkin brooch and put it on. This turned out to be the Jack O’Lantern Miraculous. He met Cheshire, his catlike Kwami, and became the spooky superhero known as Cat Astrophe.

As Cat Astrophe, Adrien is able to show his true spooky self, and then some. He has a face like a Jack O’Lantern, claws, cat ears and is able to use pumpkin bombs. He is known for his eerie cackling, and for being a mischevious trickster who offers candy after giving you a fright. He,  Zhīzhū, and the Ghoul Squad know each other’s identities.

He loves Marinette and Kagami with all of his heart, and they look at him as their golden angel of death. They and his other friends helped him realize he could stand up to his father.

After the ghouls discovered how horrible his home life was, they asked if he could join them in a ritual, to which he agreed. After the ritual was finished, Adrien became part of the Ghoul Squad, and their new brother.

Quotes

Who says Halloween has to be once a year?

It'd be a grave mistake if you kept lying about my friends, Lila.

It’s my turn to pick for movie night! We’re watching Nightmare Before Christmas! Don’t hiss at me, Juleka! I don’t complain when we watch every Dracula comedy ever made. (Dracula was a series of comedy movies in this universe)

You aren't the boss of me anymore, father. I've got a family who actually loves and cares for me.

(To Marinette and KagamiMy heart jumps straight out my chest when I’m with you two, in the most frighteningly amazing way possible!

It’s spooking hour for you, Akuma! Let’s get wild!

Adrien leaps onto the scene as Cat Astrophe, and the spook always has sweet treats for his Ghoulish family! He’s certainly a spoopy boi. Thanks so much to Weeby for doing the quotes with me. This is the last character post, but more content is coming soon! As usual, make sure to reblog, reply, post and ask. @artzychic27 @msweebyness 

Adrien: Make sure to stick around. It’ll be a treat to trick you again. (He cackles and disappears into the shadows.)

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Have a (late) merry Christmas to you as well friend! :D

1: which movie is their favorite in the kung fu panda trilogy? & what’s their favorite moment?

2: speaking of kung fu panda, are they excited for the fourth one? Or thinks the trilogy is ok; no need for an another one?

3: fun fact: Chris was based off of the kid in the movie Superman returns (or was it vice versa don’t remember) & the kid can play piano; both the real & keyboard. So I have a Headcanon that Chris can play piano.

4: what kind of slapstick does the duo “perform?” Like slamming into walls, slipping on something slippery, landing crotch first on something, etc…

5: what’s the saddest video game they played?

6: I think I asked this already but what is something the duo does traditionally with their families?

I would like to say a late merry Christmas & a happy new year to you my friend! I’m thankful for you bringing the duo to life :D

Thanks so much @gothicghost2000 fir your kind words and encouragement. It’s truly appreciated

1) Oh beyond any sort of doubt, the second one reigns supreme as the best of the entire trilogy fir the two. That they can agree on for certain. Now where they differ are their favorite moments of said trilogy. For Chris can’t stop thinking about the battle against Kai in the Spirit Realm while Jake vets absolutely starstruck with Tai Lung’s prison breakout.

2) The Duo are utterly mixed by the fourth film as while the fact Tai Lung is returning and teaming up with an interesting new villain certainly has their attention, they do think that the original trilogy worked out perfectly as is. The fourth one has a high bar in quality to clear if it ought to justify its inclusion.

3) Oh yes, I remember Jason White and the influence he had when Chris was being created. So I can see Chris at first learning how to play piano during the earlier years of staying on Earth. It’d be around the time he turns 9 when he transitions more to playing Bass. But even nowadays he can still play piano despite not being his main instrument.

4) Slamming into walls while either running real fast or likely flying straight into them due to failing to look ahead, getting bonked on the head via failing to look up for incoming objects in the air, sometimes getting slapped in the face by unappreciative people they rescue, very uncomfortable leg splitting when they hold two separating large building to prevent them from falling apart (SpiderMan Homecoming style), and yes… ‘gentle’ landings when they sometimes fail in trying to proper look down below; all of that are very constant in the daily superhero life of these two despite their best efforts

5) It’s a toss up between Mother/Earthbound 3 and Omori as the gut wrenching takes both games have leave Chris and Jake rushing for their tissue boxes by the time they’re done. Though Mother 3 might slightly edge out as the sadness there has a more clever disguise with its goofy Nintendo charm while Omori’s more psychological thriller/horror approach at first spooks the Duo and then some before it’s breaks their hearts

Honorable mention though goes to FNAF 4, especially when they see the mini games.

6) Well it doesn’t hurt to give new answers to this one

Chris: I can see Conner and him drop by the Metropolis Grand Mall together, checking out all sorts of the various stores inside, browsing around anything that catches their eyes or at least if said has something they’ve been thinking about in the back of the minds. Though of course if Conner starts getting flirty with some girls at the food court, it’s quite easy for Chris to roll his eyes and drag Conner away by his ear, just like how Mom Lois does that

Jake: Every now and then, the entire family would pay a visit to the new permanent residence of Haly’s Circus, settled in Bludhaven’s Mealtide Park when it’s not on a cross-country/worldwide tour thanks to Dick’s ownership of it. Jake especially liked having small talks with some of the performers and staff who had been there when his father was little and performing along his own parents, curious fir all sorts of stories from that time. Also, Mar’i and him flat out love Zitka the elephant and she loves them right back, allowing to settle on her back and play around her trunk.

[ominous-feychild-writes]

Check out Parts 1 and 2 first!

Death stands before me.

And before you ask, no, I do not mean metaphorically.

A being dressed head-to-toe in black and red robes towers over me, every bit as intimidating as you’d think when imagining Death before you.

A little cliche, but maybe that’s for a reason.

“Alina Jones,” Death begins—

I don’t let it finish.

“Please!” I beg, trying to step forward. I can’t move. I’m frozen in place, eyes burning without tears, as I try to bargain with Death. “I can’t be dead, I can’t die! He needs me—NOAH NEEDS ME!”

I can’t see it, but I know Death is grinning underneath its black hood.

“Why,” it begins—

I try to scream more pleas, but nothing comes out.

“Silence,” Death commands. After a moment, it continues slowly: “Why, Alina, do you think I would take a single soul when, through sparing it, I could claim countless more instead?”

What… do you mean? I want to ask.

Before I can, a flash of light sweeps over me like a barreling train.

I’m amidst rubble, bleeding but not injured, as fighting continues above me. Noah lays a few feet away, the glider much further.

I don’t feel his life force.

Time drags as I tear myself from the rubble, crawl to him, and reach for his pulse.

It’s not there.

Death may have spared me, but it didn’t spare Noah.

I hadn’t understood what Death meant by its words of sparing me to ‘claim more instead.’

Now I do.

My power isn’t just healing—it’s aging.

And I am not as kind as Noah.

Without him, there’s nothing stopping me from getting revenge on all those who’ve hurt us—starting with the thing that killed him.

Part 1 | Part 2

Divider from @cafekitsune

[ominous-feychild]

Okay I just want to say I came across a little bit of your superhero story and must say that I absolutely love it. Realistic superheroes dealing with the issues of being superheroes is so much fun and I felt like I was the only person who ever played with it (especially because I’m not much of an action person, so if it was just mixed into there, I wouldn’t have seen it). So, anyways, just wanted to tell you that I love your writing!

Thank you so much!!! I love putting realism (genuine realism, not grimdark) and themes of discrimination and/or poverty in my writing, so it was a given for me to write those into that short! I did it inspired by two different writing prompts which I'll share after I've posted all of the short story, haha. I've seen a good few stories that deal with "what kind of struggles would a superhero go through?", though most of them play it for grimdark or unnecessary angst. Y'know, stuff like Invincible, a lot of modern-day DC, and even Incredibles with the anti-superhero rhetoric.

There'll be two more parts for my superhero short, though! The first of two will have some action mixed in, but the narrator isn't part of it if it makes that better for you! Last is, ah... spoilers. 😉🤭

They'll be out in the next couple days, and I hope you like them too! 🥰

(confession: I might have given an audible "eeeee!" when I read your message. 🥰😊)

[pollylynn]

Title: Void WC: 1500

Kate Beckett: “That’s not a problem, is it? Richard Castle: “No. Not for me.” —A Death in the Family (1 x 10)

There’s no violence in the end. There is no shouting or punches thrown. There are no tears—not that he expected them—but there is no kind of passion at all. She listens, stone faced and silent, to the facts he lays out in just a few, uncharacteristically dry words. She turns on her heels, spine straight and head held high. She walks away without hesitation or backward glance. In the end, there are no fireworks at all. It feels wrong—the manner of it, not just the fact of it. That feels far worse than wrong.

He is worried about her. It is immediate and gnawing and he is knocked off the axis of his entire self by it. Richard Castle, in the aftermath of a series of events like this, should  be indignant. He was trying to help. He did help. He has achieved the first break in her mother’s case in a decade. He has accomplished what she could not see through, and she has walked away without so much as acknowledging that. 

He deserves an opportunity to tell her that the ends justify that means, that she never actually forbade him from looking into the case until after he’d already looked into it. She owes him a chance to wave Doctor Death’s file high in the air and crow that it’s his particular brand of gumption, his charming lack of boundaries that clearly gets things done. 

Richard Castle, in the aftermath of a series of events like this, should be furious at how impossible she is. He should be brooding into his scotch over how unappreciated he is or maybe ranting about her over some chest-thumping bass to a friend, to a random groupie or a woman who’s never heard of him but knows a good thing when she spies him brooding into his scotch. 

Richard Castle, in the aftermath of a series of events like this, should be feeling sorry for himself, because he’s finally found something like a sense of purpose and now it’s been cruelly snatched from him. Because he’d hit on something to carry him not just beyond the post–Derrick Storm crisis, but the crisis of his daughter growing up, his mother settling into his home for the foreseeable future. He should be full of self-pity for all he has lost, and all of it for no real sin. 

Any or all of these represent the self-righteous, self-indulgent, self-centered head space that all previous data indicate that Richard Castle should be in. But none of that is on his mind. None of that is what he finds himself going through.  

He is worried about her. 

It’s her haunting invocation of addiction—of the drink the recovering alcoholic must not take. He hadn’t thought of that. She’d told him that night. She’d opened not one, but two veins, telling him about the watch, fishing the ring out from the recesses of her shirt. He’d seized on one and disregarded the other entirely. Trauma-induced addiction? How cliché, how irrelevant, how unsexy. 

And how . . . intractable. 

What a tedious thing for a would-be superhero. Solve her mother’s case? Obviously and with the greatest of ease. Support her—as needed, as wanted—as the daughter who’d clearly taken on her father’s sobriety as her own responsibility? Yawn. 

He’d like to be disgusted with himself for that. The temptation to wallow in that inexcusable failure is almost as overwhelming as the temptation to be furious with her or feel abjectly sorry for himself. But there’s no space inside him for even self-loathing. He is worried about her. 

Everything he has not been seeing—everything he has chosen not to see—comes into sharp focus now. The dates on the access form stuck to the outside of the mostly empty box housing the pathetic sum total of the evidence gathered all those years ago, and how frequently her name showed up on row after row, then nothing . . . all of a sudden, absolutely nothing. The Herculean effort he’s seen her make, over and over, with the loved ones of victims: JoAnne Delgado, Courtney Morantz—people whose names he’s already forgotten that he knows she’ll never forget. He has watched the pain is causes her to access that empathy, and he’s watched her do it nonetheless. 

He knows now how akin that must be—every time—to slipping on to barstool and ordering a soda, buying a bottle and sliding it into the back of the cabinet. He knows now how tight a hold she must keep on herself to do her job in a way that she can live with. And he’s just knocked her off the axis of who she is. 

He’d like to hate himself. If he can’t stomp his feet over how unfair it is that she won’t fall at his feet for his heroic detective work or think about his needs, he’d at least like to embrace the drama of what a villain he is. But he’s worried about her. 

It’s more than just the idea of addiction, whether falling off the investigative wagon and restring herself is a metaphor, an imminent reality, or something in between, it’s more than just that. 

She makes herself small. She is such a force that the idea seems absurd, but it’s true nonetheless. She is in control of her professional life, absolutely, and in that context, she takes up her full complement of space. But outside of that world, she is shoulders hunched, elbows in, gaze fixed on the tile, the carpet, the gum-speckled sidewalk. She makes no demands of the world. She expects so very little of it. 

He thinks of two moments—ancient and recent—that convince him of this. Their first case, when she leaned in, her breath hot on his skin, and whispered you have no idea. Their last case but one, when the fact of Will Sorenson had lit a fire under him and he’d finally plucked up the courage to ask her out for a drink, and she’d turned him down flat, declaring she had a date. He sees both for the performances they are. She’s a gifted actress. She is an expert at mining memory, but memory is all they are. They are drawn from a time before made herself small—made herself satisfied by wanting so little. 

And she makes herself lonely. 

She is close, after a fashion, with the boys, with Lanie, with Montgomery. And yet each of them has, a dozen times over in just a few short months, looked to him, pleadingly, to draw her out, to reason with her, to help, because they love her. They admire and respect her—and, yes, there’s more than a little healthy fear of her, too. But most importantly, they love this woman who is astonishingly hard on herself, who is dedicated to a fault, who is walled off, even from them. They love her, and she is lonely. 

And since he has been around, she’s been . . . less so. 

He has been good for her. Of all the miserable, uncomfortable ruminations that he’s been through since she walked away down that hospital corridor, this may be the worst. It may be the one that shakes him to his very core, but he has been good for her in his childish, boundary-less Kool-Aid Man fashion. She has not—could never—trained him not to approach her on certain fronts, and approach, he has. And in so doing he’s coaxed her out into the light, a little. At least a little. 

He, master of the left-handed compliment that he is, has congratulated her on working people, handling them, running the convenient con. For her part, she has told him in no uncertain terms that she is simply being honest. But she has also stood taller in doing so. She has settled into herself and breathed her way into more of the world’s real estate beyond the job as he has fumblingly made her see how remarkable it is, the degree to which she unthinkingly gives of herself to lessen the pain of others. He has watched her come into a sense of her own worth. He has seen it dawn on her that she has a right to ask more of him, more of life, more of the world. 

He deserves no credit for it. He certainly never had any intention of doing anyone but himself any good as he’s pulled strings and knocked over anything in his way. But the paradoxically uncomfortable truth is that he has done her a kind of precarious good. 

And now he’s taken that from her. He’s taken so much from her that it would be a blessed relief to simply feel guilty. But he doesn’t have that luxury. There is a weight in knowing he has meant something to her. The responsibility of it weighs heavily on a part of his soul he’d thought long dead. 

He’s worried about her. 

He is so very worried. 

A/N: This is 1497 words to support a lame Kool-Aid Man reference.

images via homeofthenutty

[rockislandadultreads]

NoveList Reading Challenge: December

Read a collection of short stories or essays by a non-American author!

Bliss Montage by Ling Ma

What happens when fantasy tears through the screen of the everyday to wake us up? Could that waking be our end?

In Bliss Montage, Ling Ma brings us eight wildly different tales of people making their way through the madness and reality of our collective delusions: love and loneliness, connection and possession, friendship, motherhood, the idea of home. From a woman who lives in a house with all of her ex-boyfriends, to a toxic friendship built around a drug that makes you invisible, to an ancient ritual that might heal you of anything if you bury yourself alive, these and other scenarios reveal that the outlandish and the everyday are shockingly, deceptively, heartbreakingly similar.

Illuminations by Alan Moore

In his first-ever short story collection, which spans forty years of work, Alan Moore presents a series of wildly different and equally unforgettable characters who discover - and in some cases even make and unmake - the various uncharted parts of existence.

In "A Hypothetical Lizard," two concubines in a brothel of fantastical specialists fall in love with tragic ramifications. In "Not Even Legend," a paranormal study group is infiltrated by one of the otherworldly beings they seek to investigate. In "Illuminations," a nostalgic older man decides to visit a seaside resort from his youth and finds the past all too close at hand. And in the monumental novella "What We Can Know About Thunderman," which charts the surreal and Kafkaesque history of the comics industry's major players over the last seventy-five years, Moore reveals the dark, beating heart of the superhero business.

From ghosts and otherworldly creatures to theoretical Boltzmann brains fashioning the universe at the big bang, Illuminations is exactly that - a series of bright, startling tales from a contemporary legend that reveal the full power of imagination and magic.

Life Ceremony by Sayaka Murata

With Life Ceremony, the incomparable Sayaka Murata is back with her first collection of short stories ever to be translated into English. In Japan, Murata is particularly admired for her short stories, which are sometimes sweet, sometimes shocking, and always imbued with an otherworldly imagination and uncanniness.

In these twelve stories, Murata mixes an unusual cocktail of humor and horror to portray both the loners and outcasts as well as turning the norms and traditions of society on their head to better question them. Whether the stories take place in modern-day Japan, the future, or an alternate reality is left to the reader’s interpretation, as the characters often seem strange in their normality in a frighteningly abnormal world. In “A First-Rate Material”, Nana and Naoki are happily engaged, but Naoki can’t stand the conventional use of deceased people’s bodies for clothing, accessories, and furniture, and a disagreement around this threatens to derail their perfect wedding day. “Lovers on the Breeze” is told from the perspective of a curtain in a child’s bedroom that jealously watches the young girl Naoko as she has her first kiss with a boy from her class and does its best to stop her. “Eating the City” explores the strange norms around food and foraging, while “Hatchling” closes the collection with an extraordinary depiction of the fractured personality of someone who tries too hard to fit in.

In these strange and wonderful stories of family and friendship, sex and intimacy, belonging and individuality, Murata asks above all what it means to be a human in our world and offers answers that surprise and linger.

Love in Color by Bolu Babalola

A high-born Nigerian goddess, who has been beaten down and unappreciated by her gregarious lover, longs to be truly seen.

A young businesswoman attempts a great leap in her company, and an even greater one in her love life.

A powerful Ghanaian spokeswoman is forced to decide whether she should uphold her family’s politics or be true to her heart.

In her debut collection, internationally acclaimed writer Bolu Babalola retells the most beautiful love stories from history and mythology with incredible new detail and vivacity. Focusing on the magical folktales of West Africa, Babalola also reimagines Greek myths, ancient legends from the Middle East, and stories from long-erased places.

With an eye towards decolonizing tropes inherent in our favorite tales of love, Babalola has created captivating stories that traverse across perspectives, continents, and genres.

[taiturner]

tagged by @thenelse​ to post 8 shows to get to know me better ✨

twd: world beyond:  i don’t care that the twd fandom hates teenagers + stories about coming of age + stories that have nothing to do with **** ****** because i do!!  no show is doing family like this one.  the core family is made up of people who are not blood related and the show makes it so clear how incredibly irrelevant that is in the definition of family, between a beautiful sisterhood between 2 girls who were adopted at birth, their father who has never tried to force them to follow the extreme pressures of being the children of the literal smartest man in the world, a brother / son adopted into the family in young adulthood after he’d been kicked out by his homophobic birth parents - who then also becomes (basically) a co-parent when their mother dies, and the dynamics built between literally every single one of them are so fascinating and so complex and are not given nearly enough credit by the twd fanbase.  teenagers are coming to age not only in the apocalypse, but in an apocalypse they’ve lived in for a decade but haven’t actually experienced / seen up close due to being sheltered / isolated, and they make it!!  this show has everything between beautiful sibling dynamics, gut wrenching betrayals between best friends, heartfelt love stories (that never take away from the story but heavily add to context of who these people are + what they fight for), and so much more that this show is incredibly unappreciated for solely because it’s attached to the twd name and fans were expecting one specific thing from it they were never promised in the first place. anyway <3 it’s my comfort show it’s my family show it’s my best friend 

yellowjackets:  i don’t know what to say about this because my brain is literally [buzz buzz buzz] now that it’s back and i can’t form a straight thought to save my life it’s just so loud up there, but!! a show in which i love every single character?  every single character & dynamic is so complex and so fun to sit and think about (literally. every dynamic. you can pair these people all day and see how fun they are or how deep they go. and then you can do it again through their adult versions).  my favorite type of show is apocalyptic, and yellowjackets isn’t, but... it feels like it?  it’s still about people surviving and that’s what first intrigued me by the initial promos.  and isolation!! isolation being its own character entirely, how everyone responds to that and how they choose (or don’t choose!) to survive in it,  and then even better, multiple timelines to show me how this experience affected + continues to affect people in present day? literally a dream show to me.  plus the metaphors you can find in literally everything and the way this show is just so smart + mysterious etc makes me itching for the next episode (in a way that it’s a perfect example as to why the week to week model still works).  i love that this show doesn’t try to give us all the answers right away, especially in season 1 without knowing if they’d be renewed; being willing to take those risks makes having multiple seasons planned even more fun.  i have a thousand questions that i probably won’t find out for years, but they’ll hint and torture me for those years!!  i could read people's theories about this show all day, even if some make me angry <3. also jackie taylor has literally the best arc in television to me and i could talk about how pivotal her death is to the narrative literally all day.  it also has taissa turner.  so.

the umbrella academy:  have i mentioned yet how much i love adoptive families because that’s literally it.  i’m not really a superhero fan but that’s probably why i love this show,  it takes all your expectations about superheroes and turns it around.  it’s about superheroes reclaiming their own identities after a life spent forced into that box of a superhero, and now they’re left trying to figure out who they are beyond that.  it’s about love.  it’s about family.  it’s about claiming that family despite all odds stacked against you.  it’s about childhood trauma + what becomes of you + how you work through it, no matter how late you have to start + how you come together because of it.  the fights can get nasty, but we typically get to see them actually learn why they got so nasty to begin with + work through it.  every character has so many layers and i am so invested in their stories.   (i’d have so much more to say about this show when i’m actually in my tua era but for now. know that i love my family).

the last of us:  beautiful characters, beautiful scenery, beautiful found family dynamics, beautiful storylines, beautiful friendships, beautiful.  i’ve loved this story for a few years now and i loved the characters even more so the fact that this show actually exists now is so fun for me.  i love how focused this show is on character moments (seemingly above all else), because i can feel so invested in an episode even if they’re literally just driving in a car chit chatting all day.  so good at melting my brain for a solid 3-47 business days.  

twd:  the only reason this show is so low on my list is because for an 11 season show, i don’t really get invested in it until seasons 5-11,  but the last three seasons especially are so special to me.  for all the shit they get for it, twd does minor characters really well in terms of getting me invested in them + excited to have a show that includes so many different communities to which there are always characters i care about around, even if they’re not prominent  (which is so important to me in a show where there are many main characters that i really don’t like. twd minor characters my beloved<3).  

scream (tv series):  this is going solely for seasons 1-2 pre-reboot but i got invested in these characters + this storyline way before i got invested in the movies and i think a slasher series can work so well in a series.  it’s so fun to get to actually see how their lives are affected in between, as opposed to the movies when everything moves so quickly (not that it makes the movies bad! we just don’t have the time to really sit with the tragedies + etc).  maggie duval you will always be loved by me and brandon james was innocent btw hope this helps<3

the purge:  i never hear about this show from people and it makes me so sad, because imo it’s so much more satisfying to watch than the movies.  i always left the movies feeling frustrated that they never took the opportunity to really establish what this universe was like beyond purge night, and that’s what the tv show gets to do, especially in season 2 as it’s focused on the year between,  and it gives such fascinating context to what we see in the movies.  esme carmona you will always be famous.

kevin can f*** himself.  number 8 is probably interchangeable with so many other shows, but my gut says to say this.  if we’re going to talk about fun friendship between women who are also absolutely in love then hi!!  this show is such a good commentary on everything i hate about a lot of sitcoms, especially from the early 2000s (re: the sexism / abuse played off for jokes, etc) and i love that it breaks that glass to force you to see it.  the format of the show is so different and jarring in the best way, and in a way that i think will feel so new to me every time i revisit it.

in conclusion i love siblings i love found family i love survival etc etc etc 💖