#we stan a tiny king

[bugtoast]

guys i don't mean to alarm you but tdl is canonically short as hell

[hideawayfairy]

Eclipsa and Fizzarolli are aspirations.

[hollewdz]

another one of the many prompts from the years of g/t daydreaming i have done

Waking up from a deep sleep, you find yourself absolutely covered in dirt. The fuck? It feels like you were buried, but with some effort you're able to sit up and brush yourself off. Looking around, you see miles and miles of open prairie and rolling hills. This must be a dream, you tell yourself. The sun hangs low in the sky, and you feel the chill of nightfall creeping up on you. The number one priority is finding somewhere to sleep for the night, not that you're super serious about the situation, considering you're still in dreamland. You decide west is the optimal travel direction, as it will give you at least a little more daylight. After an hour of walking with nothing in sight, you see a town on the horizon line- relief washes over you. Thank goodness, I didn't want to figure out a way to camp. Something's strange, though, as you're approaching this town. The perspective is off somehow, and soon enough you figure out what the problem is- It's frickin' tiny. Not only that, but the town looks... mediaeval? Sort of? Thatched roofs, cobblestone pathing, lit torches, a well-used horse stable are just a few of the things you notice.

Movement calls your attention, seeing tiny pairs of eyes peek from nearly drawn shutters, slamming shut as soon as your gaze meets theirs. "What the fuck?" you can't stop yourself from muttering. Looking down to your feet, you see you've trampled a tiny field you had failed to notice. "Shit-" you breath, moving to an open area. "H-hello? Can someone help me out? I don't know what's going on..." Coming to your knees with a slight panic slowly setting in, you try knocking on the windows to see if any of these tiny people can get you some answers. "Ow!" Something sharp pierced your thigh- quickly turning, you see a tiny man with an equally tiny pitchfork, trying desperately to yank it out of your leg, presumably to get another attack in. "Hey, can you- OW- Dude, I haven't even done anything-" you stammer, going to grab for the small assailant. "Stillnes ûs of pro ic syndrige, ent!" he yells, giving a grunt as your hand finally finds him, dwarfing his form. The pitchfork clatters to the cobbled ground as you sit up and address the tiny, angry villager flailing in your palm. "Man, can you chill out? I really only want to know what's going on, I'm not gonna go godzilla on you all or whatever," But, when you bring the man to eye level and really get a look at him, you see terror and a determination you hadn't expected. The lingering sting of the pitchfork buzzes on your leg, and slowly, you come to a realization. "Oh. This is definitely not a dream, huh?"

[obwjam]

ok but hear me out- loved the killmonger one shot you just posted. What if you continue it and have a Giant Everett Ross save them 👀

honestly shocked with myself because i banged this out in like two hours during my downtime at work lol please enjoy

If it felt like days had passed before somebody came back to you, that’s because it was.

You had no choice but to assume that Killmonger had completely forgotten about you. Thankfully, you were used to going this long without food and water. It was the restriction of your freedom that was driving you crazy.

No matter how many times you slammed your body against the seemingly invisible wall, it refused to budge. The only thing it accomplished was making you sore and tired.

So when you finally heard the sounds of real human voices coming from the other side of the door, you weren’t sure if that made you excited or terrified. At the very least, it meant you didn’t have to be stuck in some high-tech cube anymore.

Everett Ross silently cursed to himself. He had let Killmonger get away again. It was like someone had told him he was coming, so he got the hell out of Wakanda as fast as he could. Ross was running out of places to look, and T’Challa and Shuri were running out of patience.

This was one of the last places he and his team were looking before officially throwing in the towel. Gun in hand, he motioned for a few agents to back him up as he kicked the door in. His eyes darted around the room, which was mostly empty, save for a few chairs, a table, and… a tiny person sitting inside a cage.

Wait. 

A tiny person sitting inside a cage.

Ross blinked a few times before turning his head around to the other agents in the room. “Go, I’ve got this one secure,” he said sternly. The agents nodded, not even noticing what – or who – was on the table as they left.

Slowly, he brought his gun down, not wanting to intimidate you any more than he already had. You had no idea what was going on, or who this guy is, but you knew it couldn’t be good.

Ross walked right up to the end of the table and bent down to meet you at your current height. He had seen a lot of things – more things than most people on the planet, he liked to think – but even this was new for him. The thing that struck him was that everything about you was remarkably human-like… you just happened to be four inches tall.

You stared back at him in equal parts curiosity and horror. As desperate as you were to get out of here, you didn’t know just how far you were willing to go. How could you possibly trust another person after this? You were hoping he would just let you go and figure your own way out of this.

“Wow. Um…” Ross was at a loss for words. “Hi. I’m, uh, I’m Everett Ross – Agent Everett Ross, with the CIA. I – um… who… why are you in here?”

You were surprised that this giant almost seemed… nervous. Huh. Maybe he could help you after all.

“Please… please let me out,” you squeaked, surprised you were even able to form words. “Please let me out of here.”

“Okay, okay,” Ross said, his voice dripping with sorrow at your terrified state. “How… how does this thing work, exactly?”

You shrugged. He didn’t actually expect you to know that, did he?

Ross chuckled when he noticed your confused expression. “Yeah, stupid question, huh? It’s just, I’m not so good with this Wakandan technology myself…” he trailed off as he waved his hands aimlessly around the invisible barrier, the electricity shimmering every time they passed by. “Man, they really made this stuff difficult to figure out, didn’t they?”

Despite the logistics, you flinched each time his hand passed over you, and Ross noticed.

“Let’s, uh, let’s take a pause on that,” he finally sighed. To your disdain, he reached back and dragged a chair over. “Now, I never asked you your name.”

All you could do was stare.The last thing you wanted to do was give up your name. It was all you had left.

“Yeah, okay, I understand,” he said quietly. It was beginning to dawn on him just how freaked out you were, and how warily you eyed his each and every movement. “This is all pretty scary, huh? Giant city, giant person…”

“...is he coming back?” you let slip. You immediately pursed your lips, as if that would take back the words you said. God, that’s embarrassing.

“What?” Ross questions. “Who? Is who coming back?”

There was something about this Everett Ross that was almost… comforting. The way he looked at you with raised eyebrows, sad eyes and a slightly open mouth gave him a soft expression that signaled compassion.

“Killmonger,” you offered, barely a whisper, but Ross heard, and his blood began to boil.

“Did you say Killmonger? As in Erik Killmonger?” You nodded. “Oh, god damn it! What did he do to you?” You flinched as his tone shifted into anger. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? I swear, when I catch that son of a bitch–”

He was cut off by you shaking your head. “He… he put me in this thing. I…” You didn’t really want to relive it, but Ross wouldn’t take his eyes off of you. “I snuck into his pocket, b-back in England. And now I’m…  here.” You looked around, still not quite clear where here was.

“Woah woah woah. You’re all the way from England?”

You nodded sheepishly. Was that a bad thing?

“Christ, kid,” he tutted under his breath. “How the hell did you end up here?” To his relief, your tremors had subdued slightly, but you still had that deer-in-headlights look that just wasn’t going to work if Ross was going to save you, scoop you up and protect you from everything and everyone.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

A pause. “I dunno. A few days ago?”

“Days? Jeez, we really need to get you out of there. You’re probably starving.”

“It’s nothing new,” you muttered. To your surprise, he heard you. 

“We can unpack that later,” he quipped. He resumed his frantic hand waving, and it was useless until you remembered something.

“Um…” You clammed up when he looked at you with those big, expectant eyes again. “I think I remember him going like this.” Ross could barely keep it together as you lifted up an impossibly tiny hand to show him a very specific gesture that he was most definitely not doing. “Try that?”

Wordlessly, he lifted his hand up and repeated your gesture, and to both of your delights, the forcefield twinkled away. Ross stuck his finger through just to make sure it had really gone.

“Alright, buddy, it’s safe for you now,” he smiled. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You took cautious steps as if you were navigating a minefield, pausing when you reached the former site of the barrier. You closed your eyes, sucked in a breath and took a stride forward.

You were free.

“There we go,” Ross cooed from far above you. He was almost afraid to make his next move, but he needed to get you out of here and report back to T’Challa. “You’re probably not gonna like this, but…”

Your heart skipped a beat as his hand, now palm-up, landed right next to you. You gaped up at the human, finally able to get a good look at him without the forcefield distorting your view. Everything about this guy screamed seasoned veteran… yet you couldn’t help but feel the sincerity in his eyes the longer you stared into them. There were no smirks, no scoffs, no degrading nicknames… he truly wanted to help. And you really needed it.

To Ross’ surprise, you didn’t really hesitate to amble onto his palm. His muscles twitched at the small impact, but he soon got over the feeling as you settled into the middle of his hand.

“Okay, this is weird,” he mumbled as he began to stand up. “Hold on there, buddy, I’m gonna start moving now.”

Ross felt his heart flutter as your tiny palms pressed into his. You felt yourself blush, knowing full well his gaze was fixated on you as he began to move.

“Where… where are we going?” you dared to ask.

“Good question, kid,” he said, voice full of affection. “First, I have to tell the prince and princess that Killmonger was in England before coming back here. They might be able to retrace some of his steps.” Your stomach churned at the idea of meeting new people, but Ross didn’t seem to realize. “Then… we gotta get you someplace safe.” 

He paused, almost embarrassed to ask his next question. “Are you alright sticking with me for a while? Be–before we find you a new home, that is,” he stumbled.

It was your turn to chuckle. “I– I think I’m alright with that.”

“Good, good.” Ross pushed the door open, tucking you near his chest to keep you shielded. “Maybe now you can tell me your name?”

For the first time in a long time, you smiled. Yeah, you supposed you could tell him your name.

[boxwinebaddie]

*jersey vc* MenTA ayLNESS, bABeY! <3 🤪 xx

[iwillfightgodandwin]

Babes, wake up, new headcannon just dropped. 💜

Happy Anniversary to the first episode of Cartoon Therapy, and Dr. Emile Picani himself. Put together a little editorial look inspired by the Doc himself! 🩷

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unlucky Night ~ BC

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 3.1K 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: strangers to friends, to potential lovers, cute, fluffy, chan acting like a protector - we stan a king - 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Chan x GN!Reader 

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

You sat at the bar, your fingers gripping the cool glass of your drink as you stared ahead, trying to ignore the man next to you. His presence was almost suffocating and you'd been doing your best to ignore him and pretend he wasn't there but it was becoming increasingly more difficult with each passing moment.

He had sidled up to you over an hour ago, and despite your polite rejections, he persisted like a shadow you couldn’t shake off. Even the barman had attempted to make the guy leave you alone but he was persistent in staying right where he was. Claiming he was a 'paying' customer and it was a 'free country'. You started to grab your things trying to move away from him, you'd come out for a nice relaxing night and so far you hadn't gotten that.

"Come on, sweetheart. I’m just trying to have a good time," the man said, his voice slurred from one too many drinks, he stunk of vodka and the smell made you want to vomit. You clenched your jaw, keeping your eyes fixed on the shelves of liquor behind the bar.

"I already told you, I'm not interested," you replied, your voice sharp but measured. You didn’t want to escalate the situation, but every time he spoke, your patience wore thinner. You'd been taught to always politely decline since you never knew what someone was capable of, but right now you wanted to smack the guy over the head with the glass he was nursing his drink from.

He leaned closer, invading your space, and you had to force yourself not to recoil.

"You’re playing hard to get, huh?" He chuckled, the sound grating. His breath was catching on your head as he moved closer to you, your hands clenching into fists.

"I like a challenge," he whispers, you can hear him licking his lips and it finally pushes you past your limit. You took a deep breath, glancing around the bar for an escape, but none seemed available. The bartender was busy, and no one else seemed to notice the tension between you and the man.

"I’m not playing anything," you said, your tone firmer now. "I came here for some quiet, and you’re making it difficult." He raised an eyebrow, clearly not getting the message—or choosing not to, whatever his small mind could come up with.

"Quiet? In a bar? You don’t look like the quiet type to me." He moved closer, his shoulder brushing yours, making your skin crawl and your stomach churn. If this was what he was like in public you didn't want to imagine what it would be like if you'd run into him in a dark alleyway on the way home.

"Let me buy you another drink, and maybe we can go somewhere else after." You finally turned to face him, your gaze hard and unflinching. You wanted him to finally get the point through his tiny brain,

"I said no." Each word was laced with frustration. You were at the end of your rope with him and you were two seconds away from insulting him,

"I don’t want a drink. I don’t want to go anywhere with you." you figured he would finally understand that you meant no but of course not. He didn’t back down. Instead, he smirked! Smirking as if this was all part of some game you were both playing and that you were just trying to test him.

"You’re being feisty. I like that." He placed a hand on the bar, trapping you on one side.

"Don’t be like that, babe. Let’s just—"

"Stop calling me 'babe,'" you snapped, your voice rising slightly. "I’m not interested. Leave me alone." You snapped a little harsher at him this time, earning the attention of the couple on the other side of the bar from you.

The man’s smile faltered for a brief moment, but he quickly regained his composure, leaning even closer. He shrugged his shoulders and smirked at you, his eyes looking you up and down as he drank in your appearance.

"I think you just need to loosen up." That was it. Your heart pounded with a mix of anger and anxiety, and you could feel the adrenaline kicking in. You had to get out of this situation before it escalated any further. Your eyes scanned the room again, desperate for a way out, and that’s when you spotted a guy sitting alone. You weren't sure he was going to be any better than the arsehole beside you but he seemed nice enough, his eyes were on his laptop,

Without another thought, you stood abruptly, pushing the bar stool back and making a beeline for his table, hoping that this stranger could help you where words had failed.

Your heart raced as you made your way toward the table at the back of the pub, weaving through the crowd while trying to appear as calm as possible. This was your one shot of getting away from the creep and you didn't want to blow it, you could still feel the man’s gaze following you, his presence still heavy on your back, but you forced yourself to focus on your next step. You didn’t know this guy at the table but you hoped he was as nice as he appeared to be,

He was sitting alone, his attention on his laptop when you reached his table, you bit your lip a little. Hesitation washed over you as you stood there for a moment, unsure how to begin or how to even ask him for his help but here you were. He glanced up, his dark eyes meeting yours, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to concern as he noticed the panic flickering in your eyes.

“Excuse me…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed, forcing yourself to speak louder, more confidently, you didn't want to come across as creepy like the guy from the bar.

“I—I know this is weird, but… there’s a guy over there who’s been following me all night. He won’t leave me alone. Can you… Can you help me?” The man blinked once, taking in your words, his gaze briefly flicking past you toward the bar where the man still lingered. His jaw clenched so hard you could see it from where you were standing, and without hesitation, he slid to the side, making space on the bench next to him.

“Sit down,” he said softly, his voice calm but authoritative. You didn’t waste a second before slipping into the seat beside him, your heart hammering against your chest. The second you sat down, you felt an immediate sense of relief, though the anxiety still churned in your stomach.

"I'm Chan," he introduced himself quietly as you nodded along with him, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him. It was now that you realised he had the most beautiful eyes you'd ever seen in your life.

"yn." You whispered back to him, a shy smile forming on your lips as your chest began to flutter. He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours as he spoke in a low voice meant only for you.

“I’m going to play along, okay? But I need to ask—can I put my arm around you? It’ll make this look more believable...but only if you're comfortable," Your breath caught in your throat. You were grateful he even asked, considering the situation, but the way his voice was so gentle and steady like he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, made you nod almost instantly.

“Yeah,” you whispered, still feeling nervous but trusting him. Without missing a beat, Chan slid his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close in a way that felt protective rather than invasive. He let his fingers rest lightly on your shoulder, not gripping too tightly but enough to make it seem like a natural gesture. His body was warm against yours, and for the first time that night, you didn’t feel as vulnerable.

His free hand found yours on the table, his fingers gently intertwining with yours and you were sure your heart was about ready to throw itself at him now.

“There,” he murmured, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “How’s that? He still watching?” You dared a glance toward the bar, where the man was glaring in your direction, clearly displeased by the sudden shift in your attention.

“Yeah, he is,” you whispered back, your voice trembling slightly. You were worried he would be there all night and Chan would eventually have to leave you alone.

“Don’t worry,” Chan said, his voice soothing. “I’ve got you. Just follow my lead.” Then, to sell the act even further, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to make it seem real. The warmth of the gesture spread through you, and though your heart was still racing, it wasn’t from fear anymore.

“Babe, you okay?” he said louder, for anyone watching to hear. His thumb stroked your hand as he continued to play the part effortlessly.

“I didn’t think you’d make it tonight.” You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Yeah, I just… got held up,” you mumbled, trying to match his tone. Chan squeezed your hand gently, leaning closer again, his voice dropping back to a whisper.

“We’ll leave in a few minutes. I’ll walk you out, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t follow.” You nodded again, your pulse slowly calming with every second that passed by his side.

"I hate that he's made you panic, I can feel how hard your heart is racing," He whispered to you, but little did he know your heart wasn't racing because of the creep - well, maybe at first - but now it was all for him.

"So what brings you to the bar?" You asked with a smile, and he smirked turning his laptop screen around to show you what it was he was working on but you couldn't make sense of it.

"Music, I come here to focus sometimes when I can't do with the silence of my studio," He smiled at you as you stared at the screen, his eyes lingering on yours as you scanned over the screen,

"What about you, beautiful?" He asked with a smile, your eyes slowly looked back at him and you felt your body heating up from the attention,

"Long day, I wanted some quiet after work but I guess I was unlucky...but it's improving," You whispered, his cheeks turning pink as you flirted back with him,

"Well, I'm glad I could make your unlucky night that much better." He winked at you.

What was meant to be just a few minutes of pretending stretched into something much longer between the two of you? You and Chan settled into an easy rhythm of conversation, your initial nerves melting away as you found yourself drawn into his warmth, both literally and figuratively. His arm was still draped casually over your shoulders, felt natural now, and his presence put you at ease. At first, you kept sneaking glances toward the bar, checking to see if the man was still watching, but after a while, you stopped looking, forgetting he was there altogether. Chan had a way of making you forget about the unease from earlier, all of it melting away into nothing.

His laugh was infectious, and the stories he shared with you made you feel like you'd known him longer than just a couple of hours now. He had a talent for making you feel like the only person in the room, even as the pub bustled around you.

“So, you’ve never been to Australia?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes. You shook your head, laughing lightly.

“Nope. Never. The farthest I’ve travelled is from home to Korea.”

“Well, you’re missing out,” he said with a grin.

“When you do go, I’ll give you all the recommendations. Best beaches, places to eat... And don’t worry, no kangaroos in the cities. Everyone always asks about the kangaroos.” You giggled, holding your hand over your mouth as you tried not to get too loud.

“I wasn’t even thinking about the kangaroos.” Chan leaned back slightly, his hand still resting comfortably on your shoulder as he continued.

“Good, ‘cause they’re honestly a bit terrifying up close.” He shuddered playfully before you giggled at him.

This whole thing had started as a tense situation and had suddenly turned into something that felt more like a spontaneous first date. You found yourself telling him things you didn’t expect to share, laughing at his jokes, and learning about the person behind the calm, cool exterior.

At some point, the pub began to thin out, the bustling energy of the night slowly quieting down. You glanced at your phone and blinked, surprised.

"Wow, it’s already past midnight.” Chan raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely surprised.

“Really? We were supposed to leave a few minutes ago, right?” His lips curled into a small smile. “Guess we got a little carried away.” He laughed softly as you joined in, realizing that you hadn’t even thought about the man who’d been following you. Turning to look toward the bar, you saw that he was long gone. You hadn’t noticed when he’d left, but now it felt like a distant memory, something insignificant compared to the night you’d spent talking with Chan.

“Looks like he’s gone,” you said with a relieved smile. Chan’s arm tightened slightly around your shoulders as he followed your gaze. Part of him was a little disappointed that this was over but he was relieved you weren't going to have some creep following you around.

“Good. I didn’t want to leave you alone until I was sure.” He looked back at you, his eyes softening. “Still, let me walk you out and get you a cab. Just to be safe.” You nodded, grateful once again for his thoughtfulness. He stood up, offering you his hand, and you took it as he helped you to your feet. His hand lingered in yours for a moment before he dropped it, guiding you toward the door with a protective closeness that hadn’t faded since you first approached him.

The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, refreshing against your warm skin. Chan stayed beside you, his arm gently brushing yours as you stood at the path. He waved down a cab, making sure it stopped directly in front of you.

Before you stepped inside, he turned to you, that playful smile back on his face.

“So, I’m guessing we didn’t get to talk about everything yet.” You laughed softly and shook your head at him.

“No, I guess we didn’t.”

“Then how about we finish this conversation another time?” he suggested, pulling out his phone. He wasn't usually the type to pick up people in bars and ask for their number but with you, he'd felt something, a genuine connection that he didn't want to let go of.

“I think we owe ourselves a less stressful night.” He finished as you nodded at him.

“I’d like that, a lot.” You whispered before the two of you exchanged numbers, the glow from his phone illuminating his face as he saved your contact. After sending a quick message so you had his number too, he looked at you again.

“I’ll text you. We’ll set something up.” He suggested. You nodded, opening the door to the taxi and sliding into the backseat, Chan leaned down slightly, his hand resting on the doorframe as he looked at you. He didn't want you to go but it was getting too late now.

“Take care, alright? And text me when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

“I will,” you promised, giving him one last grateful smile. “Thank you… for everything.”

He grinned, his dimples showing as he gave you a small wave. “Anytime.”

The cab pulled away, and as you watched him grow smaller in the distance, you couldn’t help but feel like tonight had turned out much differently than you’d expected but much, much, better than you'd expected.

You stared at Chan as the two of you sat in the same booth table you'd been in a year ago today,

“A whole year, huh?” Chan’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. He squeezed your hand, giving you that soft smile that still made your heart flutter, even after all this time.

“Yeah, hard to believe,” you said, grinning up at him. “Feels like it was just yesterday that I walked up to your table and asked you to save me from that creep.” He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Best decision you ever made.” He winked playfully, and you nudged him in the ribs.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not wrong,” you teased, squeezing his hand back as you found a familiar table toward the back—the same one where you’d sat with him that night.

As you both settled into the booth, the memories of that night played vividly in your mind. You remembered how nervous you’d been, approaching a stranger for help, how you’d ended up spending hours lost in conversation with him, and how he’d walked you out, making sure you were safe. It felt surreal to be sitting here again, but this time, things were different. This time, he wasn’t just playing the part of your boyfriend.

He was your boyfriend.

“So, how do you feel about this anniversary?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “One year of dealing with me. Not bad, right?” You laughed softly, resting your head on his shoulder as he squeezed you, softy, pressing his lips to your temple.

“One year of putting up with your terrible jokes, you mean?” His laughter joined yours, a deep, happy sound that you never got tired of hearing.

“Hey, you love my jokes.” he whined at you making you smirk,

“Debatable,” you teased, though the smile on your face made it clear just how much you adored him. “But really… this has been the best year.”

Chan tilted his head slightly, his eyes warm as he looked down at you.

“Same here. Best year of my life, actually.” Your heart swelled as you looked at him, slowly leaning in and kissing him softly.

"Happy anniversary baby," You whispered before he leant his forehead on yours,

"Happy Anniversary, stranger." He winked before you giggled, cuddling into his side again.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @s3ungm1nxxl0ve

[pluckyredhead]

I have fallen down a Fourth World rabbit hole (this is @ngoziu's fault) and am now reading everything DC has ever published with these characters, in order, as is my wont, and I have a lot of thoughts and feelings, so I'm going to start dumping them all here. Sorry.

Background if you have no idea what I'm talking about but want to read this post anyway (why?): in 1971, Jack Kirby left Marvel because he couldn't put up with Stan Lee any longer and came to DC, where they were like "Yes you can do anything you want" (this was a lie). He immediately began writing, drawing, and editing an incredibly ambitious epic that stretched over four simultaneously published books: Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen (we can mostly ignore this one), New Gods, Mister Miracle, and The Forever People. These books came to be known as Jack Kirby's Fourth World Tetralogy.

The books all center around the war between the utopian planet New Genesis, ruled by the benevolent Highfather, and the dystopian planet Apokalips, ruled by the evil Darkseid. At the heart of the narrative is "The Pact," aka The Cosmic Baby Swap. To ensure a (temporary) truce, Highfather and Darkseid traded sons when said children were very young - so Orion, Darkseid's son, is raised on New Genesis, and Scott Free, Highfather's son, is raised on Apokalips. Neither knows who their real father is until adulthood.

Orion grows up in a utopia, but tormented by his feelings of rage and otherness that he can't explain. Scott is raised in a torture orphanage, because that's just what happens on Apokalips, but eventually he escapes to Earth and becomes the escape artist Mister Miracle. The Cosmic Baby Swap begs what to me is the central question of the Fourth World, which is: what is the nature of good? Which boy will be a hero? The one born to good and raised by evil, or the one born to evil and raised by good?

TRICK QUESTION THEY'RE BOTH HEROES!!! GOOD IS MORE POWERFUL THAN EVIL! LOVE WINS AND FASCISM LOSES! This is so, so important to me and any version of these characters that doesn't understand the really not very complex symbolism here is invalid and kind of embarrassing for the writer (looking at you, Tom King).

Also Scott falls in love with and eventually marries Big Barda, one of Darkseid's fiercest warriors, who was born on Apokalips and raised on Apokalips and chooses good anyway. LOVE WINS AGAIN! BARDA TOPS HER TINY HUSBAND IN THE NAME OF PEACE AND COMPASSION!

Sadly DC canceled New Gods and Forever People after only 11 issues, which kind of killed Kirby's whole vision. Mister Miracle limped along until #18, but as a really pale shadow of itself. So we never really got the full scope of Kirby's original plans.

ANYWAY. That's the background. Now thoughts on the actual comics:

Superman's Pal, Jimmy Olsen: I love Jimmy, I love Superman, I love the Newsboy Legion, but this book feels very tangential to the whole Fourth World experiment and I think we can safely set it to the side. However, if you love the 90s Superboy series, I recommend dipping into this because it's the source material for a lot of Kon's worldbuilding (Cadmus, Dubbilex, clone Guardian, etc.).

The Forever People (1971): So I originally read all the Jack Kirby Fourth World stuff like...at least 15 years ago, when I was still relatively new to comics, and I'll be honest: I didn't get it. Kirby is sort of an acquired taste, and I didn't really have any context for what he was doing. I understood the metaphors, but I didn't get why people found the work appealing. And Forever People in particular was the book where I was like "Why. What is the point of this" the most.

Rereading it many years later, I find it to be a lot more moving and profound - like, the Happyland issue alone is a knockout. That said, Kirby is, uhhhh...not great at ensemble characterization without Lee, and the Forever People themselves are unforgivably bland. Default Guy! Big Guy! Black Guy! Girl! Kid! Props to Kirby for making it a not all-white group - and for introducing five out of seven of DC's first Black characters in the space of, like, two years - but it would have been nice if he gave them personalities, too.

New Gods (1971): This is Orion's book and the heart of the Fourth World. At its best, it's the pinnacle of "Makes no sense...compels me, though." Like, "Glory Boat?" I don't understand a single thing that happened in that comic but it's so fucking good. I just want to read thousands of words of comics scholars over the past 50 years going "????" in collective confused admiration.

Mister Miracle (1971): This was the book I was most invested in when I read the Fourth World years ago, because I already loved Scott and Barda from JLI, but now I think it's weaker than New Gods and arguably even than Forever People. Kirby doesn't seem as invested in going all in on Big Concepts here, and Scott escaping endless weird deathtraps is only compelling for so long. The later issues, after the other books were canceled and DC made Kirby pivot away from the Apokalips/New Genesis war, are nothing. But Scott and Barda (and Oberon and Shilo) are everything, so I guess it balances out. Anyway Scott clearly already knows a lot about Earth by the time he meets Oberon and Thaddeus Brown, so DC please feel free to hire me to write a Mister Miracle: Year One miniseries about Scott's arrival on Earth, thank you.

Okay, now for the post-Kirby (or really, intra-Kirby) stuff:

Mister Miracle (1977): This picks up the numbering from the Kirby series, running from #19-25, and was written by Steve Englehart and then Steve Gerber, and it sucks so bad. For three reasons, in escalating importance:

Riddled with continuity holes and factual errors that don't match what Kirby established. Himon is shown on New Genesis - how did he get there? Metron is depicted as subservient to Highfather when Kirby showed him as a neutral, independent agent. Etc.

The treatment of non-Scott characters is largely terrible. Oberon is written really condescendingly (Scott's like "Ride on my shoulders like you used to!" even though they definitely did not ever do that before, because Oberon is not a child). When Scott feels guilty that he's not actively fighting the war, Highfather's like "I don't want you to fight because I feel bad that I traded you to Darkseid, let Orion do it" as if that isn't the root of Orion's severe emotional trauma TOO. And worst of all is Barda, who is knocked out and captured in the first issue and spends pretty much the entire rest of the series unconscious, waiting for Scott to rescue her - except for the brief scene where she wakes up brainwashed, requiring Scott to beat the shit out of her. Lovely.

The series is reeeally fixated on the notion that Scott is a god, and extrapolates that to Scott deciding he's the messiah. Now, I'm not going to say that the Fourth World can't be used to explore Christian themes just because Kirby is Jewish, because Kirby was very definitely exploring biblical themes extensively and frankly I don't know enough about the Bible to say whether he was sticking religiously (ha) to the Old Testament. But I do think taking one of the central characters of a Jewish man's magnum opus and making him the messiah is, uh, pushing it. And there's no way to argue he's not a Christian messiah because, uh, he T-poses a lot in this series and Granny also specifically states that if Scott is the messiah, she'll find an anti-Christ to combat him (which...wouldn't that sort of by default be Orion? which just further proves that the idea of a messiah really doesn't work in the Fourth World framework). Anyway it's gross and I hate it.

New Gods (1977): I'm kind of using this as a catchall to cover all of Gerry Conway's New Gods work, which includes the actual 1977 New Gods series (which picks up the numbering from Kirby, so it's #12-19), the conclusion of the story in Adventure Comics, and the Justice League of America crossover with the Fourth World. (Also there's one issue of Super-Team Family where Lightray and Metron team up with the Flash to save Orion, who has grown really really big, but that doesn't fit with the rest of Conway's continuity so I guess we can ignore it.)

Anyway this stuff is not as infuriating as Mister Miracle, but it's also not...good. The central concept is that Darkseid has discovered that the Anti-Life Equation is contained within the brains of six humans, so Highfather sends six New Gods to protect said humans: Orion, Lightray, Metron (he doesn't work for you, Highfather), Forager (also does not work for you), Lonar, and Sensational Character Find of 1977, Jezebelle of the Fiery Eyes (Original Character Do Not Steal).

Mostly this series is frustrating because all the New Gods are wildly incompetent and fail completely at their tasks. Orion is dumbed down to The World's Most Basic Superhero (he has a big O on his chest now!). I spent the whole time yelling "HE CAN'T FLY, GERRY!" at the comics. Forager is lumped in with no mention of that whole thing where...he's a New God who was raised among the Bugs, who are being persecuted by the New Gods? I feel like that should be explained or at least addressed? (Presumably Kirby would have gotten around to it eventually.) Forager also should not be flying but here he does. I guess. Lonar flies too but mostly on his horse, which bothers me less for some reason, I'll accept a flying horse. (Also Lonar's human he's supposed to protect is Inuit and hoo boy is this comic racist. The poor guy wears a fur diaper the whole time and speaks a completely made up language.)

And then there's Jezebelle of the Fiery Eyes. Who is blue, for reasons that are never explained, and wears a bikini and fishnets because it's 1977, and mentions her fiery eyes (heat vision) every time she speaks. She's from Apokalips, but defected to New Genesis during battle. Which, like...I appreciate that Conway recognized that this team should have a female character, but what with Orion, Scott, Barda, and Inexplicably Present Himon, it feels like we have enough characters who have defected from Apokalips in some way? And it's just super weird that the ONLY female characters we have seen from New Genesis are Beautiful Dreamer of the Forever People (trapped in another dimension indefinitely) and Scott's dead mom. Like, what's the implication here? Heaven doesn't have women? Also, I know Conway was going for biblical names to match New Genesis and Izaya (he also introduces a Lucifar), but, like...Jezebelle? JEZEBELLE. Your only female New God and you named her "whore." Amazing.

And with that, we have covered the New Gods in the 70s (minus some Mister Miracle/Batman teamups). Next time: the 80s, and Kirby tries so so hard to kill Orion but DC won't let him.

[mjfass]

In a world full of Undertakers and Logan Pauls sucking Trump's tiny little dick Be Batista https://x.com/jessejoyce/status/1846764158945317381

Mark and Logan can go to hell.

This is the only man that matters.

Dave, you are an icon, a king, a legend. We stan you forever.

[m3-kk]

Sharing my TCF notes because sharing is caring 😬 ⬇️. (All of them… so far)

Ch. 086- sad time for Raon :(. REVENGE HAHAHA LETSGOOOO

Ch. 335- Eruhaben protect Roan & Cale from ugly WS 😆

Ch. 352- Cale’s greatest fear…😭

Ch. 378- Choi’s uncle (DS) left info book written in KOREAN?!?! 😵

Ch. 394- Letter from Death & shiz show😬

Ch. 395- CALE IS AFRAID?!?! 😱

Ch. 401- “Plavin was laughing on the outside but crying on the inside.”😌

Ch. 404- “And Miss Cage, please cuss out the God of Death for me.” -Cale 😇

Ch. 411- They were talking about the Lion King (person) and I thought they were talking about the movie 😭

Ch. 414- Choi Han woke up crying “Kim Rook Soo” 😰

Ch. 415- “What am I supposed to call the friend of my nephew once removed?” -Choi Han 😳

Ch. 423- “Oh, by the way, the original owner of your body is living well too. He said he is happy.” -Lee Soo Hyuk ☺️

Ch. 423- CALE CRIES! BABY NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! 😰

“It's a new record! You were unconscious for 20 days, 1 hour, 32 minutes, and 19 seconds!”- Roan Miru🤠

Ch. 431-

“You son of a bitch!” -Bear King

"Why am I your son? Such an idiot.”

-Whale Archie🫡

Ch. 434- Which Henituse sibling wants to become what?🥱👑⚔️

Ch. 435- Sworn brothers 🤞

Ch. 455- Ron says he has a cute young master (Cale) who he doesn’t want to disappoint.🥹

Also that Roan is cuter than Cale 😂

Ch. 457- “This is nice.” Beacrox commented before swinging his greatsword horizontally.🙂

Ch. 461- Cale’s merchant name is Bob XD

Ch. 465- The Sound of the Wind was a top underneath a boulder surrounded by whirlpools.

The Indestructible Shield was a pit under the tree.

The Scary Giant Cobblestone was a stone in the Super Rock villa.

The Fire of Destruction was a sculpture at the center of the magma.

The Vitality of the Heart was a stone pillar at the center of a whirlwind.

The Sky Eating Water was a chained spear.

Ch. 476- More Dragon Family Drama wtf

Ch. 481- To the Fake World Tree

Ch. 501- Illusion of Other World..RAMEN!

Ch. 504- Stick from World Tree (Cale’s blood is special?!)

Ch. 515- Vampire Duke Fredo (seems nice)

Ch. 516- Demonic Race, Rosalyn, White Star after cookie prince?! NOOO

Ch. 520- WEAKLING. Alberu is a mage swordsman badass dark elf

Ch. 526- These brothers are so cute OMEGALUL

Ch.555- Sealed god test, wtf this is so sad I’m crying I’ve never been so genuinely sad

Ch. 559- CHOI HAN OUR LOVE THANKS🙏

Ch. 581- AWW BESTIEEE

Ch. 584- Cale saying he could beat 3 strong peeps

Ch. 589- Alberu goes to Blood Boulder

Ch. 601- AHH CALE BDAY AHHH

Ch. 612- THEY GAVE ALBERU A GUN!!

Ch. 618- Cale explains to LeeSooHyuk the truth

Ch. 622- HOMEEEEEEEE AYYAYAAY

Ch. 627- @Capital w/ Dad y Alberu YAY

Ch. 628- BUBBLEGUM PINK DRAGON

Ch. 629- We are a big family!

Ch. 631- 5 FUCKIN DRAGONS AHHH-

[THE AUTHOR STARTS SAYING SHIT LIKE “IN THE FUTURE.. “ LIKE F U MAKIN ME ALL SAPPY N STUFF WTH UGHHH!!!]

Ch. 640- 2 Cats are Molan house’s future 🥹.. They can’t go berserk?..

Ch. 645- Roan & Cale Solo Fight letsgo!!

Ch. 646- Cale uses ‘instant’ to destroy 2 unranked monsters.. I’m crying actually..

Ch. 647- wtf I’m crying, goosebumps fr

Ch. 649- Roan has grown so much 🥹

Ch. 652- COM. WITH EARTH 2 AHHHH—

Ch. 655- Cale is healing❤️ OG Cale!KRS

Ch. 656- SOO much info from OG Cale!!

Ch. 658- CALE IS AWAKEEE YAYA

Ch. 662- OMG Cale’s BioMom was cooking

Ch. 663- WE KNOW HOW TO KILL HIM HA

Ch. 670- World Tree-nim

Ch. 677- Explaining ALOT lore dump!!

CB. 681- WOW the end of that chap tho

Ch. 682- I stan Cale’s hatred for the White Star. We love the PJs! Alberu is moon that’s so *legs in air kicking*

Ch. 683- So are we gonna kill WS or whatt?

Ch. 684- HAHAH OMG CALE’S BDR POWER IS SO SCARY EVERYONE THINKS ITS THE WS!! HAHAH ITS CALE’S THOOO

Ch. 685- omg.. DANGGG!! Our Cale is truly terrifying! New Pokémon acquired! White star!! 😏 wait we have a tiny WS in our pocket how cute! 🥰

Ch. 686- HAHA BOOM BOOM 💥

Ch. 688- Rashell says he wouldn’t be able to sleep if many humans died 🥰

Ch. 689- ROCK SHEILD LETSGOOO

Ch. 694- DEAFEATED! Alberu faints and thinks he’s like Cale now 😭

Ch. 695- NAHH WE LOVEEE

Ch. 699- ENTERED THE TEMPLE! We can’t leave…? CALE IS GHOST AND WATCHING OTHERS TESTS HUHHH?!! (DespairTest2)

Ch. 700- This chapter is just amazing, these people are so smart ughhh I’m screaming! In a happy way tho

Ch. 701- OK we have Choi Han, Clopeh, Rosalyn and Cale so far.. MARYYY

Ch. 702- +1(Roan) Cale can use the cintamani to contact other world. PEOPLE CAN SEE HIM YAY!

Ch. 705- Talking with Cale & others through the Cintamani :>

Ch. 706- Tonka! And Dark elf Tasha&Alberu

Ch. 707- My heart, Alberu was so sad and lonely back then…

Ch. 709- Eruhaben! WS is badddd

Ch. 710- Whyyyy I’m actually feeling despair it’s so complicated ugh and no ones receiving correct info ughhhhh

Ch. 713- Mary is #GIRLBOSS for not being tricked! ❤️❤️

Ch. 717- So glad that was settled 😮‍💨

Ch. 718- So the test Cale was in wasn’t the original one so now we are doing the actual sadness test ok 👍

Ch. 719- WOW NOT CALE ALREADY FINISHING BLUE TEST.. also someone else?

Ch. 721- Toonka left the test, Cale met Choi Jung Gun, I’m I’m scared 😶

Ch. 722- Rosalyn finally put the tests goals into words! She’s so smart. I love herrr

Ch. 726- Cale confronts CJG and he’s being used as bait bc a hunter is here oh no. Cale is going to cause chaos ialrk

Ch. 727- WOWW Cale was about to be isekaied lol. Good thing we have ancient powers! 2 Hunters?! 🫣

Ch. 730- Cale actually skipped a level bfr

Ch. 731- Cale has to observe past Roan (during the night) and Alberu (during the day)

Ch. 732- FLIPPING OVER THE FIRST PRINCES PALACE HAHAHAHAGA

Ch. 735- Freeing Roan! Again Again?

Ch. 739- Still loving how Choi’s test is taking care of tiny KRS. Alberu test completed!!

Ch. 740- I’m loving Clopeh during this test so far. He knows his goals and he sticks to them. He’s crazy!

Ch. 744- Damn Dodam Miru. I think DM’s world is not an illusion. Cale “tricking” the Wrath test is crazy I love that sly bastard!

Ch. 745- Cale hates when the children hate their side dishes ahah! The Wrath test is actually really difficult it surprised me frfr! Clopeh & Cale are angy

Ch. 749- How dare this low-life Dorph ever consider sacrificing the great and mighty Roan Miru. I pour all of my hatred and anger toward him. He needs to die. 😡

Ch. 750- Finally! Flipping every over heh!

[foreverdolly]

For tut sleepover I’d love dad Elvis with 9 and 26 thank you!!!

𝐌𝐔𝐃 𝐏𝐈𝐄 | 𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐦𝐨𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

prompt(s): "I love it." "I'm gonna puke." and "If it makes you feel any better then you can slap me. Lightly."

word count: 1.3k

song: fooled around and fell in love - elvin bishop

notes/warnings: this is for my 2.5k celebration! no triggers, this is a safe read. elvis is the best dad ever and loves you and your kids more than anything. we stan a girl-dad king.

The musician had grown up ridiculously poor. The kind of poor that had him eating nothing but corn bread for dinners some nights and living in government housing. He never grew up with many toys, but neither did the other boys from his side of town. They had to make do with what they had. 

The musician had grown up ridiculously poor. The kind of poor that had him eating nothing but corn bread for dinners some nights and living in government housing. He never grew up with many toys, but neither did the other boys from his side of town. They had to make do with what they had. 

An empty apple crate was a car if you tied a thick rope to the middle plank and took turns pulling one another in it. You could make forts out of broken branches and dead leaves, and the local streams were just as good as any saltwater swimming pool. 

His daughter had absolutely everything that he had grown up without. A nice big house, brand new clothes (without any patches in them), and more toys than any child would know what to do with. Instead of riding her tricycle around the house and terrorizing Miss Mary (his daughter loved to help her with the cooking), she was outside getting her hands dirty. His daughter was out in the front yard with a plate, one that she no doubt had to have stood up on her tiptoes to steal from the fine China cabinet. The baby blue dress that you had put her in just hours ago was practically black, mud splattered all over every visible inch of her tiny body. 

“Winnie!” He called out to her, hoping to get her attention. 

She didn’t look up, rather just slapped another fistful of mud onto the plate. He spluttered, feeling jilted by the act of her down right ignoring him. It wasn’t just any old plate that she was sullying either- it was your wedding china. It was cream colored porcelain with gold inlay- very expensive. He didn’t care about the price though, rather the fact that you and him had eaten your wedding cake off of it. 

Right on que, as if summoned by his panic, you appeared in the doorway behind him. You opened your mouth to ask him what he was looking at, but found out on your own very quickly. 

“Winona Mae!” You called out to her hurriedly, motioning her over with a forceful wave of your hand. “Come here, baby.” 

Elvis couldn’t help but huff in annoyance as his little girl stood up, plate in hand, and did exactly what you said. He should have known that she would listen to you over him. His brown suede jacket crinkled softly at his elbows as he crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his booted foot against the stones of the front porch, trying to look the part of an authoritarian. 

“Did you not hear me, lil girl?” He asked her once she was close enough. Her bare feet slapped against the stairs as she walked, and to his disbelief she shook her head. 

“I was busy cookin’.” Her little southern drawl was thick as she replied in a rather matter-of-fact tone. 

He couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh as she proudly held out the plate. You and your husband stared down at the mud, both knowing that it would be better to play along with her little game of make-believe. You were the first one to lean down, admiring her handy work with kind motherly eyes. She had placed small pebbles around the perimeter of the dirt mound, even going as far to place a few leaves and sticks on the very top. You surmised that it had to be a cake. 

You pretended to sniff the air, shooting her a wide grin soon after. “Oh my- what a beautiful cake. And it smells so delicious. How did I not know that you were such a talented baker?” 

It was moments like this that had Elvis falling in love with you all over again. Motherhood suited you beautifully. Here you were, happily playing with your daughter, your stomach swelling with his child. He had the family that he had always wanted as well as a wife that he adored. You were someone that truly saw him and his heart.  

“S’cause I didn’t wanna tell ya.” She got her sas from you, he supposed. 

Winnie smiled expectantly at Evis, staring at him expectantly. He had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing, not wanting to offend her. “It looks delicious, honey. Can I have a bite?” 

He pretended to scoop some up into his hand, then proceeded to fake chew. “It is delicious. That’s gotta be the best cake I’ve ever had.” 

“Well is mama gonna eat a slice?” It was almost like the girl didn’t realize she was coated in a thick layer of dirt. She was carrying on a conversation like everything was normal. 

Elvis was fully focused on his precious red carpets, wondering if they would ever recover from the stains they were no doubt about to endure. Thankfully you had heard what your daughter said and replied for him. 

“I’m sure I would love it, but mama can’t eat anything that might hurt the baby, and that much sugar would be bad for me.” You pointed at your rounded belly. “But I’m sure daddy would love to eat another slice.” You shot your husband an apologetic smile, but the expression was soon replaced with shock. 

“Winona, baby- don’t-” You hurriedly reached out for her, but it was too late. 

Elvis felt something cold and wet press against his mouth. He parted his lips to let out a surprised yell, which was a terrible idea. 

His daughter’s small hand was pressed against his mouth, force feeding him a fist full of mud. The earthy, gritty sludge had him doubling over the side of the porch to spit. His stomach churned as the horrific flavor hit his tongue. 

“I’m ‘bout to be sick.” He grumbled, his eyes tearing up as he tried to keep himself from dry heaving. 

Instead of sympathy on your end, he heard. . . laughter? Sure enough, you were doubled over as well, but for entirely different reasons. The white turtleneck that he was wearing under his jacket was stained, his perfect face marred with mud and chunks of grass. The usually well kept, perfectly put together man was an absolute mess. The ungodly moans and groans of disgust made the moment even more comical. 

“Are you laughin’ at me?” He gasped, his large hands braced on his knees. 

“If it makes you feel any better, you can slap me. Lightly.” You teased, only for another round of giggles to pour out of your mouth as he leaned back down, gagging dramatically loud. 

“E-Elvis? Did you hate my cake that bad?” His daughter's small voice sounded dejected as she stared up at him, her big eyes and long lashes downcast. 

He was too preoccupied with trying not to puke his guts out to correct his daughter when she called him by his first name.

No matter how disgusting it was, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for his reaction. He was sure that anyone else in his position would have acted the same way, but his daughter had him wrapped around her little finger. He should have just chewed and swallowed it; he couldn’t stand to see her upset.  “Baby, I loved it,” A pause, then another gag.”I loved it so much that I just had to spit it out, that way I could get to enjoy the slice twice.”

[wendytestabrat]

yes, kyle WAS a dick in “you’re getting old/ass burgers”

ok i’m so tired of all the people who defend kyle in this episode with the same half-assed argument of “yeah ofc kyle didn’t wanna be around stan bc it can be hard to be around someone with depression!1!!1” like yes i agree with that and i can DEF understand why kyle didn’t wanna be around stan when he was depressed. it can be hard AF for me too to be around someone who’s negative and wants to mope around and be miserable all the time LOL. it’s one thing to be there for someone depressed bc they just experienced something rlly difficult and traumatic (bc i mean we ALL go through shitty times and get depressed at some point) like that’s just being a good friend imo, but it’s another thing to completely enable someone who just wants to be miserable and play the victim instead of trying to overcome their depression. in that case i aint gonna feel bad for u and i’m prob gonna wanna distance myself lol. so yeah it DEF was realistic and understandable why kyle didn’t wanna be around stan anymore bc it can be draining AF to be around someone THAT negative. however, what us kyle haters had an issue with is the HYPOCRISY from kyle lol. like rlly you’re saying KYLE BROFLOVSKI the absolute king of codependency and martyrdom doesn’t wanna be around stan bc he “can’t save him” and is “bumming him out” like ok sure jan lol. and what i rlly have a problem with is kyle saying he doesn’t wanna be around stan but then has no problem hanging out with cartman instead lol. like um cartman is wayyy more toxic and annoying to be around than stan. so you don’t wanna be around or help someone with depression, but you’re fine being around and helping someone who’s a racist murderer????? (and literally the same person who gave u aids) make it make sense LOL. THAT’S why kyle seemed fake af and a shitass friend to stan in these episodes lol. it just seemed like kyle was looking for an excuse or waiting for his opportunity to dump stan as a friend to hang out with cartman and wanted to do that for a long time but never had a valid enough reason to before without it looking sus on his end. bc we didn’t even see kyle make any effort whatsoever to get through to stan, it’s like the MINUTE he found out there was a problem with stan he was like BYE. i hate that shit, kyle is like that one friend who just waits for you to screw up or make one tiny mistake so they can stab you in the back and abandon you lol, yet is fine hanging out with other friends who act wayyy more toxic who do worse shit. not to mention kyle himself is negative and whines 24/7…so i mean LOL. that’s a HUGE red flag to me is if a friend only wants you to be perfect or only likes being around you during the happy times, but the moment something goes wrong in your life they aren’t there. THAT’S how you know a “friend” is just using you. it just seemed like kyle was holding stan up to this impossibly unfair standard that he aint holding cartman up to lol, so OFC he would dump stan once he realized there’s no use for him in his life anymore.

[alaskan-wallflower]

south park body headcanons (im imagining late teens/20s here) - agree or disagree?

stan: 5’10”. stocky, not fat but not super muscular, although it would be easy for him to put on muscle if he wanted to. just doesn’t prioritize it over his creative stuff. strong biceps and shoulders but he got that beer gut. love it.

kyle: 6’2”. lean string bean. conventionally thin with a sleeper build, strong arms and visible abs bc he’s more into sports/working out than the others. he goes on 6am runs and does pushups in the morning let’s be real. and i like the thought of him being awkwardly taller then the other 3.

cartman: 5’8”. he is still volumptious! i don’t care what anyone says. that boy will not mature to be a muscle monster alpha. whatevea whateva, he does what he wants! which would be eating lots of kfc and liane’s cooking. and not working it off. terrible team player and has no sportsmanship, he would not be in any sports.

kenny: 5’6”. he’s the shortest because he was malnourished as a child but we love a short king. scrawny but could hold up in a fight, a little muscular from doing random jobs + i think he’d do football or track.

Stan: Agree. He’s got a bit of a tummy but that never hurt anyone. I kinda picture him being built kinda like Pacha from Emperor’s New Groove. Not quite as chubby but you get the picture. He’s solid. If you throw him at a moving truck he’d ricochet off. Randy probably insisted that he ate more ‘rich people food’ which contributed to his broadness, because Randy kept feeding him too much to ‘make him look like a real rich guy’. Hes got the quarterback build. Hes overweight but most of it is because he’s just solid in high school.

Kyle: Agree! Kyle w/sleepers build is now a fav hdc of mine. i feel like he was that one kid as a freshman who was absolutely rail thin because every calorie he ate went to his height instead of his muscles, but then junior year hits and he suddenly starts gaining muscle. He has a very strict workout routine and likes going for morning runs while the sun’s rising. It helps him clear his head. His immediate response to stress is to exercise. He has a ton of random growth spurts and when he’s at the bus stop with the other 3 the summer after 8th grade he just looms over them, lmao-he’s absolutely strong though. Just because he was rail thin as a freshman did not mean he was weak.

Cartman: Absolutely! I hate when people make Cartman suddenly buff, as if he would give up Cheesy Poofs and Butterwich Sabdwixhes He’s still a chubby boy even in his teen years. Hes that one kid who walks the mile in gym because he ‘doesn’t feel like running today’. Whenever his team loses usually because of him he absolutely throws a fit. He hit Kyle in the head with a baseball bat and nearly split his head open in eighth grade because he lost. Hes thrown kickballs in fits of rage and gives no fucks. Whenever he wins you don’t stop hearing it from him for months afterwards. He would never lift a finger to work off all the KFC and Cheesy Poifs he eats. I don’t care what people say. He’s not gonna suddenly have a change of heart and work off all that. It’s not in character for him. Just look at him in “Raising the Bar”.

Kenny: Agree! He probably has scars on his body from doing stupid shit for money. He didn’t have much to go off of, like you said, because he was malnourished as a kid. I do like to think his friends (mainly Butters and Kyle) start noticing Kenny is way thinner than they thought, and start giving him food, so he does eventually have his growth spurt, but he’s definitely not the tallest. His hands and arms are probably really calloused from random jobs he’s picked up. He’s extremely scrappy and could probably kick ass in a fight, even if he’s malnourished. In his teen years his friends start letting him shower at their place. He starts taking better care of his body as well, with the help of his friends. Hes a tiny little thing tho. I don’t see him being gigantic, but he’s not like-elf sized either.

Agree 100% with these!!

[robo-milky]

NEW YEAR CLOCHE AND ROOK ARE SOOO CUTE TGT!!!!! I LOVE HER QI PAO ACTUALLY WIWMWMWKWKKWKW-

Chris hear me out…. Cloche restocking the shelves, and struggling to reach the top most one…. And Rook just sweeping in, gingerly plucking whatever goods are in Cloche’s hands. Ah, allow him to assist you, Cloche darling. With his back slotted against hers, stretching over her head to place the goods where they should be….

Maybe even grazing her chin with his fingers, tilting her face upwards to face him… the ghost of a smirk dancing across his cheek…

The brainrot ok- also randomly you know the beckoning cat? The 发财猫 (?) the little guy you see waving outside stores? Rook just holding cloche up outside the store like the lion king meme💀

New Year cards give me so much brainrot tbh including cater’s stupid fucking card I want to chew him so bad

WE STAN NEW YEAR CLOCHE DRIP!!!!! (Please give me a discount I am going broke)

Happy New Years, Ceru! I’m wishing all the best for you too <3 TYSM for popping by and I’m glad you liked her qipao 😭 (Girlie will not culturally appropriate… until she does- /j)

[Response]

• First of all… whAT THE HELL IS THIS NEW YEARS FIRECRACKER—?????!?!!?!

• C-C-Cloche is gonna do her best to be the best volunteer she can be and goddamn it, Rook! Don’t make it seem like she only took the job just for him- (she prolly did let’s admit it-). C’mon Rook, where’s your fighting spirit to have the best team and get the special bonus?!?!? No distractions !!!!1!1!1!1!1! I stg one of them will be “grounded” cause of this-

• …you’re not even ghost marriageable, rook… trying to show off and reach whatever shelf you can… waiting for him to be humbled when there’s a shelf even he can’t reach I’m- 😭

• Rolling on the hills and screaming at the top of my lungs you just had to infect me with more brainrot for this man… I’m gonna get you for this someday…

• Ah, the maneki neko ✨Love those lil guys fr. Imagine Sam having a broken one and then the Rook&Jade team swooping in all like “I have an idea for a replacement, if you’d let us” *cue scheme*

• Rook would most definitely hold up Cloche like that at one point- Only Rook cause… A) Cloche would have scratched Jade B) Rook may or may not want others touching what’s his in such a vulnerable state- I’m sorry I’m being so delulu rn I cant cry sobbing this is fanon event rn-

• …I’d also like to envision that Rook burst into tears whenever he comes in contact with Cat! Cloche because she’s just so tiny and weak/deformed???

• Cater wants to play hagoita with you so bad. …The 50 thaumarks will be worth it! Once the whole New Years sale is wrapped up, you may or may not have a surprise gift or two waiting for you. Cater just wanted to earn back the cash he’s blown, and he did, and what else was he to do with the special bonus?

• You’ll always have a discount, Ceru <3 Cater may or may not have passed on a little message to the third year part timers ;)

[etherealiss]

Midnight Whiskey Confessions.

Izogie x Black!OC

Summary: After a hard day of training, Izogie’s daily whiskey indulgence led her to a face-to-face confrontation with her destiny.

Warning: There’s romantic yearning, good old fashioned pining, some whiskey-induced fluff kisses.

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: For all of my Izogie stans, I see you. This is for you. It is a simple addition into the beautiful pond of writing I’ve seen so far in the tag alone. I hope my contribution is enough. The gif credit belongs to filmreel. Enjoy! 😊

Starry nights spent under the Dahomey skies were beautiful. As the stars danced against a dark blue backdrop, the moon cast her milky white light over the entire village. The townsfolk bathed in her wonderful glow, feeling eternally grateful to see her performance up close.

Around this time, the Agojie—Dahomey’s strongest female warrior brigade—had successfully wrapped up another long day of sword combat with its newest recruits.

Izogie, the head teacher of various combat lessons, took great pride in her reputation of sharpening the senses of each new warrior. They were malleable clay in her eyes.

She was General Nanisca’s firm right-hand. Her relentless spirit in the heat of battle would only add to her legacy. Her brute strength in the daily bouts against the male guards were the talk of the village. Many of the trainees aspired to become like her. Every eye in the village square refused any attempts to make eye contact whenever she sauntered past.

There was a rule spreading throughout the town of how commonfolk were expected to act in the presence of an Agojie warrior.

“The king doesn’t allow us to look upon the Agojie.”

Except there was one person who worked on bending that sacred rule.

Deja was part of the kitchen staff stationed inside of the palace walls. As one of the main cooks on duty, her job was albeit a simple one: feed as many Agojie soldiers and trainees until the night ends. After tedious preparation, she would serve the food alongside another member. But on some incredibly rare nights, she would assume the role alone to scoop up servings into bowls like a well-oiled machine.

Tonight was that kind of night.

The line of soldiers wrapped around the small structure stationed out in the open near the dark red clay buildings. Combat practice ended without a hitch as the women’s stomachs touched their spines from hunger. Without missing a beat, Deja scooped up the portions into the offered bowls, casting a quick upward glance in assurance of its contents making it into their hand before looking back down.

She would usually tune out their passing conversations, respecting the sanctity of the sisterhood’s gossip. Though it was the sound of three distinct voices which made her throw several glances in their general direction.

“Ey, you’ve got to admit it! Nanisca has gotten a bit softer towards Nawi since we scared the Oyo with our tribute!” Amenza laughed, pushing her elbow into Nanisca’s left arm.

The general rubbed her temples with nimble fingers, the weight of exhaustion softening her rough exterior. “She was disobeying direct orders of a plan I set forth. She could have gotten herself killed. Or worse.”

Deja’s eyes flitted towards the third individual standing behind Nanisca and awaited her response with bated breath, not realizing the distraction impacted her usual flawless performance.

“I remember when you would toss me, a little trainee, across the ground if I even parted my lips with an objection. Little Tsetse is clearly buzzing her way around into your heart, Nanisca.”

From Izogie’s lips, she emitted tiny buzzing noises and earned the boisterous laughter of the two women in front of her. It was in Deja’s line they would shed the load of their strong demeanor and embraced the softness of each other’s company.

The sharpness of their spears were replaced by the presence of Izogie’s snide jabs at their obvious character flaws. Even Deja found herself giggling quietly at their banter each time they came around.

Deja’s year-long, one-sided crush on Nanisca’s right-hand ailed her spirits. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when these feelings came to fruition. Or how astute her senses were when Izogie floated across the palace floor. All she knew was the sound of Izogie’s stern voice delivering a command rattled her entire foundation. The more she would sneak glances at Izogie, the stronger her feelings grew. Her only choice was to lock them away inside of a cold gated prison. Above all else, Deja knew the rule.

“The king doesn’t allow us to look upon the Agojie.”

It haunted her beyond reason.

Deja shook her head twice to regain her focus of the task at hand. These feelings belonged on a high shelf from her mind’s reach. It was a danger to her work. And Izogie could never see her as a romantic prospect. Their worlds were light years away from each other. That was the natural order.

As the line continued moving forward, the three women finally landed in front of Deja’s pot with audible growls singing from their stomachs in perfect harmony.

“My favorite part of the day,” General Nanisca said through an easy smile. She handed Deja her bowl, watching her scoop the rice and meat with careful intent. Deja glanced quickly at her hand and offered a silent head bow.

Amenza’s mouth watered. “It is a gift to partake in Deja’s wonderful cooking with our sisters-in-arms. Don’t you agree, Izogie?”

After serving Amenza back her bowl, Deja choked on an inhale once the next hand extended forth her dish in pure anticipation. Her acute senses as a cook failed her. She no longer smelled the many spices she used this morning to prepare for dinner.

The heavenly scent of freshly scooped shea butter mixed with palm oil permeated the air around her in silent waves. It belonged to Izogie. It was her signature scent to command.

Deja tilted her head up slightly, even if it meant bearing witness to the illusion of Izogie standing there with trained eyes focused solely on her.

“Yes. Everyone knows I will only eat on the nights Deja cooks. She knows exactly how I like my meat,” Izogie answered, looking straight ahead at the sweaty cook. Their eyes locked on each other immediately.

It didn’t dawn on Deja that Izogie knew her name. Or how the intonation of Deja’s name rolling from her lips reminded her of freshly poured honey. Knots unfurled in Deja’s stomach upon taking an eyeful of Izogie’s hunky appearance. If she was going to commit to breaking a sacred rule, she would relish the forbidden taste of the bounty before it was snatched away.

Izogie wore her warrior outfit with pride. Her biceps protruded from under the gold band adorned on either side, which was accompanied by a simple shell band. Numerous scars from battle and training alike were dusted across the canvas of her rich dark skin. Two particular scars caught Deja’s attention.

One was imbued on the right side of her neck, extending down towards her collarbone. The second scar was carved above her right shoulder blade. Seeing them up this close made Deja question their existence. If they could talk, they would whisper the many tales of Izogie the Conqueror, the undefeated champion of Dahomey.

The gods took their time with this one, Deja thought.

Izogie licked her lips, a dangerous act to initiate as a warrior. Deja was the first one to break eye contact and forced herself to gaze upon her hand instead. Long nails sharpened to a fine point piqued her interest further. Even after she knowingly broke the king’s only rule, Deja’s courage dissipated. She held the bowl out for Izogie to reach and willed herself into breathing normally again.

What the cook wasn’t expecting was for Izogie’s fingers slowly gliding over hers, delivering the final blow to Deja’s resolve. The painful pang inside of her heart resonated through her bones. These feelings only caused trouble. Deja needed their existence extracted from her body altogether.

“Thank you, Izogie,” she finally spoke, taking heed of the rule by casting her eyes downward. She hoped Izogie wouldn’t see through her facade. Their dance would soon be over after this exchange. “I’m always happy to hear any reviews of my cooking. Your kind words are not lost on me. I’ll strive to make an even better meal tomorrow.”

After tidying up the kitchen area on the training grounds, Deja hurried back to her room. The ticking time bomb of tears was uncertain. But being in Izogie’s presence earlier was the obvious catalyst for their near arrival. Once she entered in the familiarity of those four walls, Deja permitted herself to crumble completely.

Large teardrops clouded her vision, which signaled the commencement of her nightly sobbing session. No one ever told her how intense it was to shoulder unrequited feelings. She never weighed the price of losing her physical strength to be in close proximity of her crush. Her heart never carried this big of a burden before.

On beautiful starry nights like this, Deja was curled up in her bed. Her beautiful dark skin contrasted the green patterned dress she wore as she bathed under the slivers of moonlight. She wished for the gods to take away the beating of her heart.

And soon, sleep washed her tears away.

It was well past midnight as most of the king’s guard was snoring the night away. The halls should have remained quiet. But two hours into her slumber, she woke up to a pair of noisy bare feet stomping across the smooth clay floor. Then, a disembodied voice—the same voice she spent an hour crying over—spoke up in a failed whisper.

“Deja, I request your company at once! You and I must speak now.”

As she stirred from her bed, Deja thought it was still the plot to one of her many vivid dreams. Her headwrap fell off in the middle of her thrashing, revealing her messy shoulder length twists. Usually Deja hid them away, but a touch of sleep convinced her this was part of the dream.

She walked to the cloth separating her room from the hallway and pushed it open with one hand, completely unaware of her heart stuttering at the sight in front of her.

Izogie was still radiant in her warrior attire, but her two machetes weren’t attached to either side of her hips. She was never unarmed during her nighttime patrol. Her oiled black skin shimmered in the fractals of lit palace torches, the forbidden sight meant to be consumed by Deja’s eyes. Her usual hardened stare softened the moment she lay her eyes upon the sleepy cook. Something must have happened.

Deja leaned forward to make sure no one else was awakened by Izogie’s loud announcement, fixing her gaze to the ground. “Izogie? This couldn’t wait until sunrise?”

“Y-Your hair,” she coughed. “I’ve never seen it like this before.”

“Forgive me, but I heard how urgent you were calling for me. Have I done something to upset you?”

“Yes. May I come in?”

Her brisk answer silenced Deja. She held the cloth and stepped to the side to grant Izogie access across her sacred threshold. The faint smell of distilled alcohol wafted past Deja’s nose, piquing her curiosity further. She heard from another staff member, Cerys, about the cases retrieved by the soldiers. Never once did she think about how Izogie would indulge in its rancid taste.

Alcohol was known for altering realities.

Once inside, Deja released the fabric and positioned herself to stand in front of the soldier. Her eyes fell again to the red floor. There was a brief silence shared between them, neither willing to break away from it.

Soon, Izogie cleared her throat. “Do you know what you did?”

Deja shook her head slowly, refusing to look up. Izogie blew a large gust of wind from her mouth before letting out a chuckle.

“You looked at me, Deja. You broke the king’s only rule and I deserve to know why.”

She swallowed down the dry bubble in her throat. “I cannot say.”

“You will.”

“Izogie. Please, don’t make me say it.” The tears bubbled to the surface and threatened to fall again.

Her fingers gingerly cupped Deja’s chin, forcing her to meet the pool of chocolate browns she could spend hours getting lost in. The thought of being guided under her slight hand wasn’t lost on Deja now.

Izogie was Deja’s undoing.

“There it is,” Izogie whispered, allowing her shaky thumb to graze the corner of Deja’s lips. She was teetering closer to danger. “The look in your eyes tells me everything I need to know.”

“I’ll get rid of them, Izogie!” Deja blubbered out, fresh tears spilling down past her cheeks. “I’ll banish my heart far away from my reach and never look at you again. If it is my punishment, I will obey.”

Izogie blinked in astonishment and halted her thumb over Deja’s lower lip. She took in Deja’s tears, committing the scene to memory before shutting her eyes for a moment. “Punishment? You thought I came here tonight under the cover of night to punish you?”

“It’s the only reason I can dream you into being in front of me now.”

Izogie opened her eyes. “What do you mean dream?”

Deja brought her hand to Izogie’s wrist, wrapping her fingers around it. “I’ll tell you why I broke the rule. I’m sure you’re dying to know why a second-rate cook took a chance and stole a glance at the general’s best soldier.”

Izogie remained silent as Deja went on. “These feelings inside of me, I can’t quite describe it. All I know is I would like to be in your presence all of the time. I want to feel your fingers caress me and collapse into your warm embrace at the end of the day. I want to be able to make you laugh. I want to be the reason behind your smiles. I want to keep feeding you until you tire of my cooking. I wish to be important to you. I’ll wage a thousand wars and endure punishment from the gods if it means I can look at you. And I don’t want anyone else. My heart desires you. I like you. There, I’ve said it.”

Deja drew out a long breath and dropped her hand from Izogie’s wrist, thinking the dream sequence ended here. But the cloudy haze of sleep robbed her of witnessing Izogie disappear as an apparition. Instead, the real Izogie stood in place with her thick brows raised from shock.

“I am not asleep, am I?”

Izogie shook her head, the same face adorned with pure confusion only few can produce from her.

Before she could explain her way out of the wordy confession, Izogie dropped her hand and fell to her knees. Deja came down to her level and clapped her hands together to slide them in front of her mouth. Whether it was a prayer to the gods or a repentance from the woman she loved, Deja knew everything was ruined.

Her first thought was to shift blame onto the alcohol.

“You drank from the white man’s port, didn’t you?” she questioned, finally scanning Izogie’s eyes for a hint of truth.

Izogie gulped. “It is the only good thing they brought. It is called whiskey.”

“What does it taste like?”

“Bitter at first. Though, I find the taste turns sweeter as you drink more from the bottle.”

“And how much did you drink tonight?”

“Enough to get me here to you.”

General Nanisca’s right-hand was properly intoxicated. She sat in front of Deja, willing to answer any question thrown her way. For the first time ever, the odds shifted in her favor of winning the unofficial war they sparred in.

“Who did you drink with? You couldn’t have possibly had this whiskey drink alone.”

Izogie traced the remnants of the clear liquid with a swipe from her tongue and giggled. Her demeanor was unlike the brute soldier she presented herself as every day. “One of the trainees I brought in from town, Nawi, took a gulp and puckered up her face like a fish. Can you believe it? Finally, I found a way to shut that tongue up!”

“Ey, the poor girl was tricked! She didn’t stand a chance against you.”

“The first rule of training: always obey Izogie,” she patted the middle of her chest, accepting the whiskey’s effects with open arms. “I am Izogie!”

“You are a terribly loud influence,” Deja groaned.

“And you… You are incredible, Deja.”

Deja stared incredulously at Izogie as she swayed side to side, showcasing her drunken smile. She couldn’t understand the depth of Izogie’s reaction.

“The power you exude hasn’t been stolen from you. I can see it,” Izogie said as she steadied herself, eyes holding the cook’s gaze. “How is it that you can stand there and profess your love for me when I’ve come to tell you, the keeper of my heart, that I am rendered powerless against you?”

Deja’s prayer filled hands dropped into her lap, a sigh escaping her parted lips. “Keeper of your heart?”

Izogie crawled forward, resigned to surrender under Deja’s careful, tender touch. She rested her head on top of Deja’s opened hands as the weight of her body relaxed to the floor. Here it was, she experienced the most serene moment of existence. She was home.

“I came here tonight to tell you how I couldn’t hide my feelings any longer. Seeing the way you looked at me during dinner, I was weakened. I win every single challenge thrown at my feet. But for you, I am at your mercy.”

“Izogie, you can’t mean that,” Deja whispered.

“Whether you believe me or not—and I sincerely hope that you do—I have been looking your way ever since you started working at the Dahomey Palace. But you never looked at me. I assumed it’s because you heard of how the townsfolk can never look directly at us,” Izogie paused. “I broke the rules a long time ago when I found myself falling for you.”

Deja pulled her hands from under her crush’s head and fiddled away at her short nails. In the distance, thunder boomed across the sky. The downpour of rain would shower over the village grounds soon. And Izogie’s words were out in the open for Deja to see, but she wouldn’t receive it.

“What does that mean for us?”

Izogie lifted both of her hands and grabbed Deja’s arms. As she tightened her grip, the sharp tips of her nails punctured tiny holes of blood through Deja’s skin. It wouldn’t leave behind any scarred tissue.

“Deja,” Izogie baited her with the likeness of her name rolling off her whiskey coated tongue. She waited so long to hear it from her lips. “I like you. Everything you said in your confession is what my heart desires for us too. You don’t have to banish your feelings away from your heart anymore. I want to be with you. I wish to explore this love by your side.”

“But behind these walls, I am not allowed to look at you. I know the rule. I am not an exception.”

“You are mistaken,” Izogie breathed out a sigh, her hands releasing their hold and returning back to her sides. “The king’s rule only applies to the outsiders. Once you pass through those doors and live within the palace halls, your eyes are free to roam wherever.”

Deja didn’t know that part. “This whole time—”

“We could have locked eyes every waking moment over the past year. There would have been no judgment. And there is no punishment I wish to inflict on you after finally looking at me.”

The air returned to Deja’s lungs once she sucked in a quick breath. There was no special circumstance to a rule given from the inside of a palace. Its existence was nullified. She was free to look at the love of her life without living a life shrouded in shame and tearful regret.

“Then why did you come here?”

“My punishment needs to be delivered by your hand,” Izogie admitted, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. “I should have loved you out loud. You can blame the whiskey if you want, but I wish to make a small, selfish request for my sentence.”

Deja ushered her to continue with a stern nod. “I want to spend a lifetime with you. This time, I’ll be the one waging a war against the gods. If it is my punishment, I will obey.”

She placed both of her hands on Izogie’s face, carefully, allowing her thumbs to rub around the apples of her cheeks. Soft patters of a light rain against the roof drummed away the rest of Deja’s worries.

“Punishments can wait. Nothing in this world would make me happier than being yours.”

Izogie’s smile was a sight to behold. Her happiness was infectious to those in her vicinity. “You were always mine.”

Deja’s fingers traveled down to the side of Izogie’s neck and slid over the mark which caught her curiosity earlier. The smoothness of the scarred tissue beneath her touch was nothing close to what she imagined. Deja held Izogie’s attention, her eyes searching for the unwritten answer among the stars.

“I must be honest about my fascination with your battle scars. They are my favorite part of you. I wish to familiarize myself with the existence of every single one of them. Every story behind them will be mine to carry.”

“Ey. Don’t make such bold statements. You are not under the whiskey’s influence.”

“No. Just yours,” Deja said in the midst of a smile, gliding her fingers along Izogie’s hard collarbone. “Since we’re making our requests known, can I ask you for something before the whiskey’s magic spell wears off?”

“My love, you could ask me to burn the world in your name. I would do anything.”

“My world has already been set ablaze,” she chuckled. “Am I allowed to kiss you now?”

Izogie blinked away her surprise. “Do you really need to ask?”

“I’m giving you the chance to oppose your destiny. I was told a warrior’s consent is the bridge used to build the most sacred bond of trust.”

“Who told you that? Amenza?” Izogie arched one of her perfect thick brows. “Are you aiming to be part of the Agojie?”

“No, no, no. I want you to honor me as the keeper of your heart. Now,” Deja leaned down, maintaining a healthy gap between their lips, “do I have your permission to kiss you?”

Uncontrollable laughter bubbled from Izogie’s mouth and shook her entire body, serving as a reminder of why Deja yearned to be next to her in the first place.

“Yes. A thousand times, yes.”

Deja closed the gap between their mouths in one fell swoop, commencing the drums of their heartbeats together on one accord. Even with closed eyes, their hearts guided the movement of the kiss. There was an insatiable craving stirring inside of her. Maybe it was the softness of Izogie’s lips which coaxed it alive. Perhaps, it brought Deja’s hidden desires off of the highest shelf and delivered it straight into her tattered hands.

Their lips parted to regain the rhythm of their breathing, but the dance began again as the bitter, intoxicating taste of whiskey on Izogie’s tongue consumed Deja’s thoughts. She slid the tip along Deja’s upper lip, briefly poking it into her mouth once their lips connected.

The warrior learned how much pressure would be necessary to unravel the poor cook, easily stripping her lover of the strength she once possessed. Deja knew her opponent studied the nature of her delighted reactions, especially when she was this close to her target. She broke away from their intense kiss in a heated daze, pressing a series of pecks along Izogie’s jaw and brought them over onto her right cheek.

Izogie went and found the purest source of unrefined sugar disguised as the gorgeous black angel hovering above her. The unsuspected move to shower her face with wet kisses rendered her speechless. She broke out in fits of laughter, enveloping the two lovers in state of unbridled bliss.

The war ended on a mutual agreement to establish new terms for peace. Kissing Deja was Izogie’s new purpose. And Deja promised Izogie a lifetime of learning the stories behind each scar, old and new. The world would go on without them.

And Izogie savored her reward with great reverence.

Deja pulled herself back, finally mustering enough willpower between the two of them. Izogie’s eyes slowly batted open as her signature sheepish grin wiped away any ill thoughts of the day before. The sight of her covered in the various kiss marks earned a nod of approval from the artist herself. Deja loved her new canvas.

“You should prepare yourself for early morning training, my golden warrior. We’ll discuss the parameters of your punishment during my lunch break.”

Whiskey was a truth-telling serum delivered overseas. It was the only thing the traders deemed worthy because of its magical properties of subduing the tongues of even the strongest soldiers.

“And I will obey,” Izogie said. “All I ask is that you will remind me of this moment. When I wake in your quarters a few hours from now, I fear I won’t remember what damage has been done on this battlefield. Or which one of us emerged victorious.”

Deja dragged one finger over her brow and pressed another kiss against the bone with an air of ease. She watched as her love flipped onto her side with closed eyes, nuzzling her cheek against Deja’s thick thigh. The whiskey’s magic spell was slowly lifting. Sleep would come for her soon.

“I promise you, Izogie. I won’t let you forget to collect your spoils from war.”

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

What's this? Another Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow post?? But it's 2024! Surely, there's nothing new to uncover with regards to this seminal work of sequential storytelling...right?!?!?

Well...kinda. XD

BEHOLD! Another Tom King podcast interview, wherein he discusses Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, and mostly confirms stuff we already knew, but! BUT! He does drop some new bits of info!

Right then. LET'S GO!

My usual disclaimer applies, recommend listening to the interview firsthand to get a more objective perspective.

But if you're cool with my (INCREDIBLY BIASED! ALWAYS! ALWAYS BIASED WITH THIS BOOK!) summary, then ONWARDS WE GO.

(And when I say 'biased summary' what I mean is that I will be including the bits that make me want to run a victory lap because my readings were SPOT HECKIN' ON, ALL YE NAYSAYERS!*)

Ahem. Anyways.

So I'm going to start off with some new-ish info (at least, it's new-ish to me. XD) The interviewers had asked about the title, specifically in regards to Zor-El's dialogue in issue six (I believe it's the portion where Zor is explaining to Kara why he's going to save her, and says something like, "tomorrow will come soon enough...and you will be a woman looking back on the many decades of your life..." hence 'Woman of Tomorrow') and whether that was planned from the outset, or if that part came about organically as he was writing it.

King said he'd originally written a completely different script for issue six (which we did know) but FUN NEW FACTOID TIME: Zor-El/Kara's origin (initially) weren't included in issue six like, at all. It therefore would not have come up at any point within the mini-series, had they gone with that first script.

But editorial hated it (King agreed with their conclusion, and another fun fact, we'll get to see said script in the backmatter for the new deluxe edition, YAY) and when King asked if there was anything in it that they liked, they said the tiny flashback to Kara's time on Argo was good.

SO. King then decided to expand that/incorporate her origin, because that would be 'easy', and this was back during his crazy COVID writing schedule.

(Folks will perhaps recall that he wrote issue seven in like...a day. What we did not know was that he rewrote issue six in that same week.)

And then it ended up being everyone's favorite issue so yaaaaay for editors! Unsung heroes of comics!

They are also comics' greatest villains but that's a discussion for another day!

Evely's art was mentioned at this point and King was like, 'I had to go back and make the writing more beautiful/esoteric to match what she was putting out.'

Also we stan a comic writer who lets his artists take as long as they need on art. (Though as he's mentioned before, Evely was able to turn in the art quickly on this book, which is heckin' WILD to me, have you SEEN that woman's pencils and inkwork??!??!?!??!?!)

They touched on the True Grit comparisons, only relevant/new bits there are that King feels it's the perfect novel (agree) and that the John Wayne version is terrible (also correct) and the Cohen Brothers' version is great (right again.)

Another bit we already knew: It was an editor who was responsible for the suggestion that Kara should be Rooster, not Mattie. (I think in the past he credited this to Jamie Rich, but this time he said he couldn't remember if it was Rich or Brittany Holzherr, and said they could fight over the credit if they want. XD)

Either way, THANK YOU, WHOEVER YOU ARE, b/c the alternative pitch, with Kara as Mattie and Lobo as Rooster, sounded awful.

Instead King went with, 'Kara will learn from the young naïf, and teach the young naïf.'

(Much better.)

MORE NEW, FUN TRIVIA!!!!

King said they had the first issue completely drawn, colored, and lettered--basically ready to go, and DC said, 'we can't publish this because Supergirl doesn't drink.'

King called Jim Lee, trying to make his case, that she was twenty-one, it was legal, it was a totally normal/human thing to do, and Lee was like, 'but we can't.'

King: Could I do it with Superman? Lee: Yeah.

Essentially it was a lot of tiptoeing around stuff like, 'girls can't get drunk and whatnot' coupled with 'Supergirl can't do that because she's perfect and pure.'

But! Lee ultimately was like, 'okay, you can leave the scene in, but you can't say she's drunk.'

So if you go back and read the actual dialogue/narration, there's no explicit language confirming that kara is three sheets to the wind.

(Which is so, so ridiculous to me because the art makes it very, very clear that she is. XD LOOPHOLES!)

King and the interviewers pointed out that this real world editorial incident ironically tied into one of the metanarratives of the character, that being the pressure placed on Kara, which Clark doesn't have to deal with.

Art imitating life etc. etc. XD

Feel like I've heard this bit in other interviews but it's sweet so it bears repeating: the green sun planet's name is based on King's nickname for his daughter, and she was the one who came up with the idea of a 'green sun planet' during a discussion at dinner one night.

So shifting gears a bit, the rest of the podcast focused specifically on various plot points that the interviewers wanted to discuss/had questions about; it's basically King offering his insights as the writer. And I really, really appreciate this, for reasons I'll get to further down. Now then, more summarizing!

One of the interviewers brought up a sticking point he had with the book: the execution of the Brigand in issue four. Ruthye says to Supergirl that she thought she would save him. To which Supergirl replies: Did you?

King explained that Ruthye and Kara are on opposite journeys in this book. In issue one, Kara is on the side of 'I don't kill, heroes never kill' and Ruthye is on the opposite side, 'Krem killed my father, I have to kill him.' At the end of the book, they are once again on opposite sides, but they've switched.

(I love the way King described it, that Ruthye becomes Supergirl, and saves Supergirl. More on this later.)

But specifically that part in issue four, where Kara doesn't step in, King confirmed that she's on that journey, she's going through that transition, but she hasn't crossed the line of, 'I'll kill him myself.' Rather, she's allowing the system to do what it will.

King also mentioned that this theme isn't especially new and has been examined in comics time and time again, of superheroes asserting their morality over governments, and how that spirals into fascism. He cited Kingdom Come, etc.

Further comments from King on Kara's character: she's conflicted, unlike Clark. Clark's soul and ideals are aligned one to one; Kara wants that. She loves those ideals and wants to uphold them, but she's not fully aligned like that because of what she's been through (read: She's Seen Some Things)

Loved this bit from King: "Supergirl's a little more human than Clark, in spite of being more alien."

King said DC probably would've let him have Supergirl kill Krem in the end, BUT (and it's a good 'but' tying into that earlier bit about Ruthye becoming Supergirl) he said that the theme of this book was 'what makes Supergirl awesome' (he admits this is kind of a dumb theme, but hard disagree, sir) and he liked that Kara's lessons to Ruthye are ultimately what saves her. Kara saves herself.

(STICK A PIN IN THAT ONE, FOLKS)

King once again stated, for the record, that Krem does not die in the end!

The two interviewers had differing interpretations, hence King needing to confirm. XD He even pulled out his script for issue eight, and the description does indeed say that Krem is unconscious, not dead.

And, AND, Evely even made this clearer in the art; the script didn't have Krem moving after Ruthye hit him, but Evely added Krem placing his hand on his head.

Another point the interviewers wanted to discuss: Ruthye writing that Supergirl had killed Krem.

King confirmed that this was to prevent the Brigands from retaliating against Ruthye, and instead focus on going after Supergirl.

In King's mind, Kara feels immense guilt that her father saved her over literally anyone else, so she spends her life taking on other people's pain, to make up for what she sees as taking someone else's spot on that ship.

The scene in issue seven, where Kara's falling through the atmosphere and pushes through in order to preserve the memories that she carries with her was inspired by events from King's life; his mother died unexpectedly, and when going through her things, realized that he was one of the only people who carried certain memories of his mother and grandparents; he described it as a kind of burden.

Last question from the interviewers: Why make Ruthye and unreliable narrator? Do we believe anything in this book, now?

King started off his answer by noting that he fought against using captions in his books for his entire career; by the time he started writing comics, caption boxes had sort of lost their vitality and had become the equivalent of thought balloons, which had long since fallen out of style.

But when he returned to them with Supergirl, he said, (and I have the full quote below)

King: "What I love about [captions] is that you can write things that contrast what's in the pictures, so that the captions can tell you a little bit of a different story than what you're seeing, and thereby enhance it--it's that idea of Ruthye being, she's narrating the story but we're seeing pictures of what's actually happening, creates an excellent sort of tension I think." (Bold mine)

And so, some THOUGHTS!

As always, I love learning new things about this comic. I wish this comic had a commentary track, with King (and Evely, Lopes, and Cowles!) talking about the creation/processes behind the book.

Next best thing is podcasts, I guess! XD

But IN ADDITION to fun, new information, as I mentioned at the outset, King has basically confirmed a bunch of stuff I mentioned in my deep dive posts.

To quote one of the interviews: "I was validated by Tom King!"

XD

This also debunks like. Every bad-faith criticism lobbed at the book. It's almost like a checklist of the month-to-month stuff I was seeing from those aforementioned naysayers, complaining on twitter that King had ruined Kara beyond repair.

They'll likely never listen to this podcast, but I wish they would! I think it would make them feel better. XD Like, hearing the insights on Kara/Ruthye/etc has just reminded me once again how good this book is, and how emotionally moving.

Like, again, I love the way King sums up how Kara and Ruthye work together in this book to shine a spotlight on Supergirl; Kara teaches Ruthye lessons, Ruthye becomes Supergirl thanks to those lessons, Ruthye then saves Kara, thus Kara saves herself.

(Which hey, I touched on in my issue eight post, way back when.)

(I'm also beyond thrilled that my assumption that the art is the true account while the narration boxes are Ruthye's recounting was CORRECT.)

(Which isn't to suggest this is a terribly deep, difficult to decipher text. I mean. It's a monthly comic book intended for mass consumption, starring popular IP--the writing isn't inaccessible by any means. XD But I just remember seeing SO MANY PEOPLE deliberately misreading these specific points as a way to Stay Mad, so I'm relieved that my glass half full interpretations wasn't just the result of desperate Evely Stan goggles, you know? XD)

TL;DR: I cannot heckin' WAIT for that big, beautiful hardcover coming out in July (IDK if I've posted about it here yet but Lopes said he recolored some stuff so you BETTER BELIEVE I'll be back on my Woman of Tomorrow nonsense this summer) and I'm also thrilled that this entire creative team has returned with a new creator owned title (EXPECT A POST ON THAT...AT SOME POINT???)