#written by jason martin

[lyledebeast]

I think what really makes The Patriot such a great movie for Jason Isaacs in spite of being such a shitty movie for just about everyone else involved just comes down to laziness in the writing. Robert Rodat wrote a protagonist who is allegedly, somehow, a badass Rambo-style war hero and haunted by his past AND a good father, and the filmmakers planned from the beginning to rely on Mel Gibson's charisma to sell him. Roland Emmerich admits they never really considered anyone else for the role. Meanwhile, Tavington on paper is a cardboard cutout Evil English Snob. The original plan was to cast Jude Law, a solid Evil English Snob choice, but when he took too long to officially accept, they offered the part to an actor with little experience in American film who had not played a major antagonist before. And they let him implement some of his own ideas because his character wasn't the one they really cared about.

And he stole their movie!

I would argue that the main reason for this, the reason all the others stem from, is Issacs' idea for Tavington's backstory. Not only does it explain why he is in the Army and so desperate for a British victory, but also, in part, why he has such particular beef with a father.

The backstory itself is certainly more tragic than Martin's. For all the movie's criticism of "gentlemen," growing up in the expectation of a certain kind of life and having that torn away through someone else's irresponsibility would traumatize anyone. While the movie tells us nothing about Tavington's age when his father died or what happened to him in the immediate aftermath, it is abundantly clear that he has not gotten over it. Martin has not gotten over Fort Wilderness, but by every other account we hear it was 1, Martin's accomplishment and 2, an absolute Roman triumph from the British Colonial perspective. It did nothing to hurt Martin's fortune or prospects, quite the opposite. The only drawback for Martin is that when you commit war crimes, it has an unfortunate way of making you feel like you might be a war criminal. Annoying that.

That Tavington has a saber to grind with fathers is also far more consistent than Martin's approach to fathering, as we see in Tavington's first scene. He points his pistol at Martin's children to get the rise out of him that pointing it at him failed to stir. He never speaks to Gabriel or even looks at him upon discovering the dispatches he carried, but when Gabriel calls Martin "father," suddenly Tavington is invested: "Oh, I see. He's your son. Well, perhaps you should have taught him something of loyalty." Every problem Tavington sees in this scene of performed neutrality he lays at Martin's door, even Gabriel's service in the Continental Army. Could it be projection? If there is one outcome that is not Martin's fault, it is Gabriel joining up against his explicit wishes. Meanwhile, Martin's concern for Gabriel shifts from his endangering five of his remaining children's lives to save him to paying so little attention to him immediately after his new wife's murder that he is able to ride for revenge with no inconsequential number of Martin's men behind him. And he is at least as shocked by Gabriel's death as he was by Thomas's.

The first exchange between Tavington and Martin is mostly unchanged from the script to the theatrical release, but the two following it are dramatically different thanks to Isaacs. He argued successfully that not only would Tavington not be afraid of Martin after the prisoner exchange but that he would do well in the final fight between them (a fight that does not exist in the original screenplay). That fight in particular creates problems for the filmmakers' vision of Martin. In the unaltered first scene, Tavington has all of the power, sitting on his horse while Martin is on foot. In the second, Tavington draws his sword to kill Martin while he is unarmed. Both of these are classic dastardly villain moves. In the last exchange, though, it is Martin who has the advantage of having wounded Tavington twice before they get in sword's reach of each other, and Tavington still kicks his ass. On Tavington's side, this is not representative of a one-dimensional villain but of a man who has clawed his way to being a colonel in the British Army after losing everything with his father's death. The only reason Tavington does not kill Martin, either after the punch Martin does not take like a champ or after he has literally beaten Martin to his knees, is that he is still seeking a connection with a father.

The problem with the changes Jason Isaacs brought about is that they make Tavington a badass fighter with a sad backstory, which also happen to be the only aspects of Martin that get any real development. His onscreen violence evokes Fort Wilderness from first to last, but the third aspect of Martin's character, that he is a good father, is told rather than shown. Had changes been made to Martin that corresponded to Isaacs' for Tavington, then he could have had a stronger ending, perhaps saving Gabriel as he failed to save Thomas. But, no. Instead he just gets out-badassed in his own movie and then handed a giftwrapped victory anyway.

[youunravelme]

to all the girls you've loved before part seven

author's note: WHEW okay i am so sorry it took five days short of a year to finish this. what a wild ride it has been! i just wanted to shout out my dear friend @dani746 who has cheered me on (and roasted me) many times throughout this process. i probably wouldn't have finished this without you. i also want to shout out my other friend @thewintersoldierdisaster who helped me process so much of this part to get it written. you both are the best and i owe you both big time! i also owe all of you who have read and reblogged and replied and liked this series over the last year and a half, you have been so amazing! anyway, here's part seven! (and not to worry, while this is the last part of the series, i will be writing more about mama bear and mat).

pairing: single dad!mat barzal x reader

summary: being a nanny for rich people was probably the worst thing that ever happened to you, until you started working for mat.

warnings: children, rich people, fear of falling in love, anxiety

day seventy-one

you arrived at sydney and matt's in thirty minutes. it probably would've taken less time had traffic not been absolutely abhorrent due to the holiday.

you thanked the driver and paid before grabbing your bag and walking out into the cold air.

in your rush, you forgot a jacket.

you stumbled up the martin's front steps, and dialed sydney's number, pointedly ignoring the five missed calls and eleven texts from mat.

"hello?" thank god sydney sounded awake.

"hey," you exhaled. "can you let me in? i need a place to stay for tonight."

you could hear her mumble something to her husband. and the door was opened thirty seconds later.

matt ushered you in without a word. sydney met you in the foyer with a crease between her brows at the sight of your jacket-less frame and the bag in your hands.

"what happened?" she asked as she led you to the living room and sat you down on a couch. a ringtone sounded and when you turned around matt was answering his phone.

your focus shifted to matt who was looking straight at you. "hey barzy," he said. "yeah, she's here." he nodded, but his eyes were focused on you and sydney. "she got here just a minute ago. no she doesn't have a jacket. syd's with her now." matt hummed into the phone. "we'll drive her to the airport tomorrow, don't worry about it."

you wanted to bury yourself into the pillows. you wanted the couch to swallow you whole.

you didn't hear the end of the conversation matt had on the phone. to be quite frank, you weren't sure you wanted to hear it at all.

matt joined you and syd on the sectional. he threw an arm around the back of the couch and the very sight of it made you sick. you loved them together, you did, that wasn't your problem.

it just reminded you how jason never did anything close to that.

or more importantly (and maybe this was your bigger concern): your shoulders felt cold without mat's arm wrapped around them.

"what happened?" matt asked. and you had to give it to him, you appreciated the "no bullshit" approach he was taking, even if you felt a little attacked.

you opened and closed your mouth repeatedly, but no words came out.

"i'm asking because barzy sounded like he was two seconds away from a full blown panic attack."

you could feel your ears getting hot. your cheeks were getting warm. you wanted to throw up.

"we kissed," you mumbled.

the martins blinked, and you had to give credit where credit was due, sydney didn't shout "i told you so." matt, though, seemed to recognize that the conversation was probably best had between you and sydney because he pressed a kiss to the side of her head and walked out of the room.

sydney nodded and cocked her head to the side. "why did you run?" she asked.

you broke eye contact to look at your hands which were furiously picking at your cuticles. you could see her move closer, leaning forward on her elbows.

sydney said your name quietly. "what happened? did he overstep a boundary? i can get matt to say something to him--"

"i kissed him," you admitted, still not looking up. "i kissed him and freaked out and ran."

“why?”

you exhaled and continued picking at your fingers. "jason said some shit that just got under my skin and now i can't stop thinking about it."

sydney waited for a moment before she spoke again. "what did he say?"

you couldn't see, and it took you a minute to realize that it was because your eyes were blurring with tears. it felt pathetic to sniffle and wallow when it was your fault.

it was all your fault.

"no it's not, honey," sydney said, sounding closer than she did a few minutes ago. you didn't even realize you had said anything. "what did your ex say to you?"

"he said mat would eventually get bored of me. whether that meant just in general or if we slept together."

"you know that's not true, right?"

you halfheartedly shrugged.

sydney was beside you now. she placed her hand on your knee and squeezed. "honey, it's not true. jason treated you like shit, if the one interaction i saw the two of you have was any indication." when you didn't reply, she sighed. "we don't have to talk about it anymore. let's get the guest room set up so you can get some sleep."

it took all of ten minutes for the guest room to be ready. you were curled into the bed moments later.

you found yourself staring at the ceiling wondering how you could've ruined your life so quickly.

you shouldn't have kissed him.

god what were you thinking.

at a professional level, he was your boss, at a technical level, he was a roommate and also—

the best guy you'd ever known.

not that it mattered at the end of the day. you kissed him and ruined any sort of relationship, professional or platonic, you could've had. you might not have been a stem girly, might not be a rocket scientist, but even you could knew that it didn't matter if the stars aligned—

there was no way mat barzal was in love with you.

so you cried yourself to sleep and dreamt of the hazel eyes that had enraptured your heart.

day seventy-two

matt drove you to the airport and thankfully said nothing about your puffy eyes and messy hair. it was safe to say you were restless all night, barely feeling like you slept at all when your alarm went off.

“do you need someone to pick you up when you get back into town?” matt asked as jfk airport approached.

you hesitated. “i hadn't thought that far ahead,” you admitted. “mat was supposed to pick me up, but i don't think he'll want to see me.” not after you ruined everything.

matt nodded. “text syd and let her know when your flight gets into town and we’ll figure something out. if not us, then i’m sure the lees can help.”

when he pulled up to the airport, you gave him a grateful smile and a small thanks before grabbing your personal item and carry on and getting out of his suv. for a brief second, you contemplated jumping back in his car and begging matt to take you back to mat and ella, but you forced your legs to carry you into the airport, telling yourself your mother would be upset if you missed your flight.

so you walked through the airport, through tsa, to your gate, onto the plane, like a zombie. you couldn't stop imagining the way mat’s lips felt against yours, couldn't stop hearing jason’s words in your head like a broken record.

and when your plane took off, you imagined and wondered how mat did it all the time. your stomach dropped as you increased in elevation. your heart lurched when you looked at your lock screen, a photo of the three of you after one of his games.

you should change it, but you loved that little girl and that photo was one time of many recent memories where you felt like you truly belonged.

you locked your phone to keep yourself from thinking about it too much.

your mom met you in your hometown’s airport with a cheesy poster with your baby pictures plastered all over it. she squealed and shoved the poster at your father in favor of nearly tackling you to the ground. you could've cried in her arms, the weight of the last few months catching up to you. for all your parents’ faults, of which there were many, it felt good to be with them again.

your mom pulled back and gave you a watery smile. her hands framed your cheeks as she pulled your head down to place a kiss in your hair. “we've missed you, sweetheart,” she said. “christmas wasn’t christmas without you.”

“missed you too, mom.”

your dad scooped up your carry on and led you to the beat up suv he'd had since you were a sophomore in high school.

the backseat felt familiar like wearing your dad’s old college t-shirt, like fitting into something you'd previously forgotten about. your parents recapped the last few months to you, as they told you about the family drama and what happened at christmas. you were only half listening, doing your best to keep up when you left your heart and mind in new york. you glanced at your parents, married for thirty years, been through their own fair share of struggles. you passively wondered if there was ever this crippling fear in their chests at the idea of loving someone else, or of even falling in love and the enormity of it.

you knew logistically you weren't the first person to fear the act of falling, but you felt so alone in it.

wasn't it crazy? humans had been falling in love for ages and yet you felt completely isolated in this feeling. you weren't the first woman to fall in love with her boss, with a single father, with an athlete. you probably weren't the first to fall in love with a man who was all of the above—

but god it felt like it.

the entire experience felt confining. you knew there were girls dating famous athletes, but they were models, or rich, or childhood sweethearts, or not as mentally fucked up as you currently felt. you were never gonna be sydney or grace or sofia or any of the other nice girls you’d met. you were a nanny, a girl who chose a useless major in a highly competitive city who couldn't handle the stress of a starbucks in new york city at 8am. then you’d gone and kissed mat and consequently felt lighter than you had in the weeks it’d been since you found out your ex cheated on you with the girl you lived with.

but as soon as it ended, you remembered seeing the rangers jersey discarded on your living room floor. you remembered the way your stomach dropped to your toes, how you wanted so badly to pretend it wasn’t happening, but the noises from your roommate’s bedroom were evidence enough.

the writing was in the stars, it was in the fucking clouds, on the fucking wall. every man you'd had been with prior, you'd realized, treated you like garbage. your high school boyfriend never texted or called you back at a reasonable time. your sophomore year of college boyfriend never fully committed, saying he was too busy during football season.

then there was jason who didn’t really show red flags until you started working for mat.

he’ll get bored of you.

“honey? you okay? you went quiet for a second.”

your mom’s voice snapped you out of whatever that mental spiral was.

you gave her your best convincing smile and nodded. “just thinking.”

“how’s that boyfriend of yours?” your dad asked. “jack? joseph?”

“jason?” you gritted out through your painfully tight smile.

your dad snapped and smiled. “that’s his name. how is he?”

“i wouldn’t know, we’re not together anymore,” you mumbled just loud enough for them to hear, but not loud enough for it to echo in your brain.

the car went silent, even as the radio crackled out some random eighties bop from when your parents were in college.

“are you okay?” your mom asked.

“i’m fine.”

day seventy-three

your parents didn't make you celebrate christmas as soon as you got into town. they, thankfully, waited a day before calling your entire extended family over to watch you open presents alone. you smiled and thanked each member for their corresponding present. you dutifully laughed at every joke and sipped at your glass of red wine in hopes that the acidity would distract you from heavier things.

like the texts from sydney asking if you were alright.

or the video from mat of ella playing with the stuffed hippo you got her. you'd watched it ten times just to hear her laugh that she definitely inherited from his childlike cackle. you couldn't help but see the scrunched up face of ella’s that was a carbon copy of her father’s. but even after all that, you still didn't have the heart to reply. what would you even say?

“aw she’s so cute! also sorry i kissed you and ran away?”

you were on your fourteenth watch of the video when he texted again.

mat: let me know when your flight is coming back into town, we’ll pick you up.

you locked your phone and took a sip of your wine. and when your cousin did a cartwheel in the middle of the living room and nearly knocked over the christmas tree? you smiled politely while her parents chided her while you tried to forget the similar stories mat’s parents told you about his childhood.

as the family members cleared out, you helped your parents clean up the common areas. you were in the kitchen with your mom loading the dishwasher when she asked the question you were dreading.

“when are you going back to new york?”

your hands nearly dropped the plate you were holding, but you recovered quickly. “i have to be back before the isles’ next roadie.” a non answer, but you didn't feel like pulling out your calendar and counting the days to see how close you were to facing the mess you left on the island.

“are you staying for new year’s?”

you didn't need to look at your calendar to know you'd already been gone for too long. you'd memorized mat’s schedule at the beginning of the season when you started working for him. his roadie started on new year’s eve.

when you did the dreaded math, you had maximum two days left before you had to head back and take care of ella like nothing had happened.

“i can’t, mat has a road trip that starts on new year’s eve.” you couldn't even look at her. “i’m sorry, mom.”

but she shrugged your apology off and hugged you from behind with a tight grip. “don't apologize, baby. i just wish you'd tell us what's going on.”

“there’s nothing going on—”

your mother said your name, a cross between gentle and chastising. “i was born at night, but not last night. i know you, i know when something’s wrong. if you don't want to talk about it, that’s fine. you're an adult. but don't lie and say you're okay.”

you nodded but didn't offer up any more information.

“when you're ready,” she said, rubbing your back. “when you're ready to talk, i’m here to listen.” your mom pressed a kiss to your cheek, squeezed your shoulders, and walked out of the kitsch, leaving you to gaze out the window over the sink.

day seventy-five

sydney picked you up from the airport at noon with a certain smile on her face that you couldn't place. the backseat was devoid of her kids, so you assumed they were with the nanny or matt was home already with the kids.

she did most of the talking, which you were thankful for. you still felt unsettled back on the island so soon. too soon, if anyone asked. there was nothing more that you wanted than to go back home and hide under the covers in your childhood bedroom, pretending that your biggest fears were monsters in the shapes of shadows from your closet doors.

you were only halfway paying attention. your thoughts were monopolized by the last memories you had before going to your parents’ house. the sound of ella’s laugh when she opened your gift, the warmth in your chest at the anders and grace’s christmas party because you felt so welcomed in by people you'd only known for a few months, the overwhelming unnamable emotion in your stomach at the photo album mat gave you, the capsizing undertow feeling of being seen and known, how mat’s lips felt against your own like every good thing you’d ever done was to make sure you deserved that moment.

you were floating in your own thought bubbles when sydney parked her car in the garage. your eyes didn't wander to the car parked in the street, or the reason why she brought you to her place instead of the one you shared with mat.

you weren’t thinking of any of that until you heard his laugh from the living room.

but your feet were already carrying you there, following sydney diligently like you always did. you stood there in the entrance of the living room, your bag still wheeled behind you.

he'd robbed you of all oxygen.

it was like a spotlight was on him and the nearly eleven month old baby in his arms. a closer look showed that ella was barely holding her eyes open, but she was clinging to her hippo like her life depended on it. 

she looked so small, curled into mat’s chest, but so big compared to when you first met her.

her father cheering loudly when he scored on marty, had her flinching awake. her brown eyes opened wide and by some act of grace (or maybe torture on your part) she made eye contact with you and whined. ella reached her hands out for you.

and who were you to deny her?

you ignored the feeling of his eyes on your face, ignored the way his mouth opened in your peripheral vision. instead, you picked up ella and bounced her as she tucked her head under your chin, ignoring the hazel eyes that were locked on your face.

“you're back,” were the first words mat said to you since you left his apartment that night. “how was your trip?”

you fussed over ella in your arms to keep him from seeing how your hands shook around him and vaguely registered that marty had paused the game. “it was fine,” you said. “how long did your family stay in town?”

“they left yesterday, told me to tell you goodbye.”

you nodded, unable to form any other words to keep the conversation going, so you walked towards the kitchen in hopes sydney would follow. she did, thankfully, and soon enough the sound of chel echoed through the downstairs.

“what was that?” sydney whispered. “you haven't seen him in a few days and that’s all you have to say?”

“what did you want me to say? ‘sorry i kissed you and ran away. hope your holiday was fun?’”

sydney sighed through her nose and placed her hands on her hips. “you’re gonna have to talk about it eventually.”

“and i get that, but i don’t want an audience when we talk about it.”

she nodded and looked to the side. “i just hate to see you two like this.”

“like what?”

“like you're strangers.”

a cleared throat kept you from replying, but it did have you turning your head to see mat leaned against the entryway of the kitchen. “i don’t mean to rush you, but i think we need to get ella home so she's in her crib for at least a portion of her nap.”

quickly you nodded and bid goodbye to sydney and, at the door, you smiled at marty as he opened the front door. mat had his hand on your suitcase and was already carrying it outside to his car like it weighed nothing, which it certainly was not light because you had to sit on it with your parents’ obese cat in your lap while your mom zipped it up.

mat loaded your suitcase, you strapped his child in her car seat. he got in the driver’s seat while you slid into shotgun.

and neither of you said a word.

not until you got about five minutes into the drive. it was almost like mat couldn't handle the quiet anymore. “we don’t have to talk about it after this, but i think we should at least acknowledge what happened, right?”

“we don't have to acknowledge it at all, really. it was unprofessional and crossed too many boundaries. i think it’s best if we just forget about it.”

you were too busy staring out the window, watching the buildings pass to see something like hurt flash in mat’s eyes. “why? why do we have to forget it?”

he will get bored of you.

you shook your head and continued to look out the window.

“no, i think i deserve an answer, a reason why you ran out of our apartment on christmas and didn’t say anything.”

“it’s nothing, mat.”

“it’s something if you won't even look at me.” he sighed and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. judging by the white color of his knuckles, you guessed he'd only tightened his hold. “i just—” he cut himself off with a sigh and rubbed at his jaw with one hand. “do you still want to look after ella? because if you don't, i’ll need some time to find someone else—”

you flinched into the passenger window. “why would you think i wouldn't want to watch her?”

mat shrugged. “i don't know, you don't want to seem to be around me and considering she's my daughter, i just figured.”

“as long as you're okay with it, i’d like to keep nannying. but if you want me to find another place to stay—”

“don't worry about it, it won't be a problem.”

you nodded but didn't say a word for the rest of the ride home. not to worry though, neither did mat.

when you finally got back to the apartment, you grabbed your suitcase while he maneuvered ella out of her car seat and into his arms. neither of you spoke, not even as you went your separate ways as you got into the apartment. you split in the hallway with him going into ella’s nursery and you into your room.

you at least waited to hear the door shut behind you before your shoulders slumped and tears pricked at your eyes.

he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored of you. he’ll get bored—

i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone—

someone else. someone else. someone else. someone else—

a knock on the door startled you enough that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the noise that escaped your lips.

“you okay?” he asked.

you managed to clear your throat and squeak out a “mhm.” you didn't hear any movement, probably mat wondering if he should press the issue, but after a few moments, you could hear feet padding back down the hallway.

you should’ve unpacked, you should’ve cleaned your room from how you left it. you should’ve done a lot of things. but you took a shower where you cried the entire time. then you got in bed and wished you were in your parents’ house so you could smell the slightly burned sugar cookies your mom made and hear your dad’s disgruntled sighs from the living room when his football team didn't play well.

now you were sitting in a cold city that you used to adore, but it felt like the love had evaporated once you were shown how unlovable you were. jason cheated, mat suggested a replacement, maybe that’s all you were. maybe you were just the ikea couch that moved from apartment to apartment only to be replaced with a crate and barrel sofa when the owner got a house.

there was no telling how long time passed before mat knocked again. “tito’s coming over, did you want anything? he’s offering to pick something up.”

you cleared your throat yet again before speaking. “no, no i’m good.”

“you sure? he's getting pizza from borelli’s.”

your stomach growled but you ignored it. “i’m sure, thanks mat.”

the footsteps retreated, leaving you to your thoughts.

it wasn’t long before ella woke up, forcing you to leave your little cave you called a bedroom. she smiled when she saw you, all her four little baby teeth proudly on display. you pulled her out of her sleep sack and changed her diaper, all while her legs and arms were flapping around happily.

“did you have a good nap, ella bean?” she didn't say any intelligible words, mostly just babble, but you smiled anyway. “i bet, baby girl. do you wanna go see dada and uncle tito?”

her deep brown eyes lit up. her eyes were probably the only thing she got from her mom considering she was a carbon copy of mat.

once her diaper was changed, you buttoned her onesie and pulled her little pants back on before you carried her into the living room.

both mat and tito’s eyes lit up when they saw her. almost immediately, ella started kicking her legs and pushing away from you to go to her dad. instead of bringing her straight to mat, you let her down on the floor and watched as she crawled her way to him.

she’d gotten much faster in your absence, even if it was only for a few days. and to your joy, and maybe a little tweak of sadness, she pulled herself up on mat’s knees where he pulled her into his lap.

“how was practice?” you asked.

mat blinked at you. “we didn’t come from practice...”

“i know,” you replied. “but i didn't get to ask you earlier this morning, so i’m asking now.”

tito’s eyes bounce back and forth from you and mat, almost like he’s unsure of what to do.

mat shrugged. “it was fine, just a lot of bag skating.”

and given their performance a few nights ago, that wasn’t completely surprising.

you nodded and walked into the kitchen when the tension became too much. you gripped the cold counter and took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time to find someone else. i’ll need some time—

“you okay?”

your eyes shot open and you spun around to see beau standing in the kitchen with a furrow between his brows.

“y-yeah, why?”

he jerked a thumb over his shoulder where mat was playing with ella on the living room floor, or at least you assumed he was, you couldn't see him from where you were standing. “you're joking, right? you seriously don’t know why? it’s been almost three months and i’ve never heard you talk to each other that way.”

“like what?”

“short.” when you said nothing, he continued. “what’s going on?”

“you mean he didn't tell you?”

“tell me what? that you kissed him and ran away and didn't speak to him while you were gone? yeah, he told me that. didn't tell me anything else though.”

beau wasn’t being cruel, you knew that. he was simply narrating what you had done in a matter of fact manner.

so why did it feel like someone was twisting a knife in your chest?

he sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “look, i’m not judging you, i just hate to see you both acting this way.”

“acting like what?”

“strangers. or maybe worse than strangers.”

 “what could be worse than strangers?”

“estranged lovers.”

a scoff left your lips before you could stop it. “one kiss hardly makes us estranged lovers.”

“no but it does make you two act like you don’t know how to be around each other.”

you refused to look at him, choosing instead to study the grain of the marble countertop. “he’s my boss, tito. i shouldn't have done it.”

he fixed you with a look you couldn't quite interpret. maybe it was similar to one sydney gave winnie after she asked her mom a million questions when none of them made sense and had no obvious connection between them. “you're lying to yourself if you think that’s all you are to him, if that’s all he is to you.”

you shrugged your shoulders. “that’s all we can be.”

“says who?”

no one, no one but you. you and that cruel voice in your head that sounds a lot like your ex. “we just can’t.”

“maybe you just need to be proven wrong. allow him to prove you wrong.”

day seventy-seven

“are you still coming to the game tonight?” mat called from his room while you sat in the living room watching ella play with the stacking cups before she got mad and knocked them over.

to say things had returned to normal would be a lie, but you and mat were good at pretending the elephant wasn’t in the room or even in the apartment building. “i’m not sure,” you replied loud enough for him to hear. “ella’s been kinda cranky all day, hasn’t napped well.”

on cue, ella knocked down the cups and screamed bloody murder. you cringed almost immediately. as soon as the scream was over, you could hear mat’s sigh from his bedroom. his voice sounded closer when he spoke again. “you think she’s getting sick?”

you glanced up and saw mat walking through the doorway. in his suit, he still managed to squat next to you. you quickly averted your eyes instead of staring at his thighs. “i don't know, she doesn’t have a fever, she could be teething or it could just be a sleep regression. all three are possible.”

mat leaned in and ruffled the hair on ella’s head. any attitude or frustration she had evaporated the second she saw her dad. she lifted her arms and babbled until he picked her up. he stood up to his full height and placed the back of his hand against her forehead. “does she feel warm to you?

you stood and replaced his hand with yours. you hummed. “maybe a little, but it’s also a little warm in here.”

mat nodded before he kissed the top of ella’s head. “just let me know if you plan on coming.”

“we’ll be there,” you said before you could stop yourself.

if you were a painter, you'd capture the look of mild surprise on mat’s face because it was equal parts endearing and handsome, you couldn't describe it in just words. “really?”

“yeah,” you said, a small smile on your face. “you’ll need your number one fans there.” and even if you doubted your permanence in his life, there was no doubt in your mind where he ranked in yours. “i mean,” you babbled. “aside from your parents and liana.”

mat chuckled a little. “you definitely rank higher than liana. you don't roast me as much as she does.”

“yeah well, she knows more about hockey than i do.”

his eyes looked into yours and you felt the vulnerability of being seen, of being observed through a microscope.

he’ll get bored of you—

“you should know that doesn't matter to me, it’s the fact that you show up.”

“i’ll keep showing up then,” you smiled. “even if i have no idea what’s going on.”

his smile matched your own. “i’ll come home and explain it to you then.”

you probably could’ve stared at him for eternity, his floppy hair and hazel eyes but ella screamed and wriggled around until mat put her back down on the floor, ending whatever moment you thought you were having.

he glanced at his wrist watch and cursed. “i gotta go or i’ll be late, you have the tickets right?”

“they're on my phone, you sent them yesterday.”

he nodded looking at you then ella, then back at you. “i’ll see you later, then. text me if something changes, i’ll check between periods.”

“you really shouldn't—”

“but i’m going to anyway!” he exclaimed before shutting the door behind him.

ella got a kick out of the uber ride to ubs, even from the comfort of her car seat. the driver was kind enough to play gracie’s corner, which was ella’s new musical obsession. she was giddy for once (because she’d been cranky all day) and didn't even protest when you put the headphones on her head as you entered the noisy arena.

you made your way down to the glass where sydney and grace were waiting with their kids. while it wasn’t your first time at a game with ella, it was your first time this close to the ice. mat had sent you tickets because the wags didn't rent a suite out for the game this time. which, in all honesty, was more than fine with you, experiencing a live game close up sounded more than fun.

the boys came out skating at a pace you couldn't dream of replicating. your eyes were as wide as ella’s as you both looked around, stunned.

“you okay?” sydney chuckled. “you look like a deer in headlights.”

you nodded. “they're just...really fast.”

grace and sydney laughed but nodded along with you.

after the initial lap of skating, matt and anders came over to say hi to their kids and wives. matt had a knowing look in his eye and skated away momentarily. maybe you were a little dumb for being surprised when mat, your mat (but not really) came up to the boards grinning ear to ear. 

ella, by an act of god, recognized him even with his helmet on (not that it covered his whole face, but you'd seen videos of babies freaking out when their dads shave so you weren't sure how she would react). she was flapping her arms and squealing, a nice change from the ear piercing scream she’d been giving you all afternoon.

you couldn't really hear what mat was saying, but you saw the happiness in his eyes, the matching grin he shared with his daughter. you didn't even realize you were staring at him until his eyes met yours. he gave you another award winning smile before grabbing a puck and tossing it over for a girl a few seats away from you.

before you realized the time, mat skated away from you so he could finish warming up. that, of course, didn't stop him from looking over in your general direction to look at ella who was enraptured by the entire experience.

the buzzer sounded shortly after and the game started.

ella made it about seventeen minutes into the first period before deciding she’d had enough. smiling apologetically to the other girls, you said, “sorry, the queen has decided it’s time for bed.”

“how're you getting home?” syd asked.

“uber,” you said.

“text us when you get home,” grace said.

you nodded and grabbed your things and placed ella in her car seat before heading up the numerous stairs to the lobby area of the arena. you sent a text to mat after you ordered your uber but before you walked outside, not wanting to stand out in the cold longer than you had to.

you: 

sorry to miss the game! the queen has said she’s had enough. we’re about to get a taxi.

you didn't expect him to reply soon. you managed to get an uber and head back to your shared apartment when you got a text back. 

mat:

call me when you get home.

before you could stop yourself, you furrowed your brows and replied.

you:

what if you’re in the game?

his reply was immediate.

mat:

call anyway, if i have time during the second intermission, i’ll call back. if not, i’ll see you at home.

as if on instinct, you smiled at your phone. you didn't even realize the uber arrived at your apartment building until the driver threw the car in park.

“thank you,” you said as you climbed out of the car and unhooked ella’s car seat.

the first thing you did upon entering the apartment was put ella and her car seat on the floor. the second was pull out your phone and call mat like he asked you to. it rang twice before your heard his voice on the other line.

“you home?”

you blinked. “you actually picked up?

he made a noise that sounded somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “you're surprised?”

“you have a game to focus on.”

“this isn’t a lengthy conversation. i just needed to know that you got home alright.”

“well we’re home. you can stop stressing about us and go win a game instead.”

he cackled through the phone right before he said a quick bye and hung up.

you squatted down to ella’s eye level. she was dozing off in the car seat and you were already not looking forward to the tantrum she’d throw as you tried to get her out and into pajamas. a tired baby barzy was a cranky baby barzy.

just as expected, she started crying and rubbing her eyes when you picked her up. she cried even as you changed her diaper and into her pajamas. she cried through chicka chicka boom boom and the little blue truck which she usually loved. she cried up until the moment you put her in her sleep sack and into her crib.

once she was down, you came back into the living room and started cleaning up to the sound of mat’s game on the television. you still weren't an expert on hockey, but you did at least try to understand what was going on. the important thing was that the isles were winning by a goal.

mat didn't get home until closer to midnight. you were still up, watching carpet cleaning videos on your phone. maybe you should've done something more productive, like cracking open one of the fifty books stacked in piles in your room, but after all the screaming from ella, you just wanted to see a dirty carpet turn white.

“you're still up?” he asked, a slight note of surprise in his voice as he walked through the door.

you shrugged. “was waiting for my hockey debrief.” you watched as he sat his hockey back next to the door and ran a hand down his face. “congrats on the win, by the way.”

he crossed the room and plopped down on the sofa next to you and groaned. “i can’t even think about winning when my body hurts.”

“that’s what happens when you can't stay on your feet for more than half a shift.”

he chuckled a little. “not you too, i get enough shit from the guys.”

“if you want it to stop, you should stop falling down.”

abruptly, mat turned to you. “can you even skate?”

“no, but you can. you even get paid to do so. which is why it’s so surprising that you can’t stay on your feet.” he rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his face. “what?” you smiled back. “what is it?”

“nothing,” he said. “i’m just glad we’re cool again.”

day eighty-nine

you felt like a zombie, simply put. ella was eleven months old and shouldn't be going through a sleep regression, yet she was up on and off all night. you knew that it was because she’d learned a new skill, one you couldn't wait to show mat when he got home.

part of you was nervous that he would be upset that he wasn't there for it. last roadie, he came home to ella cruising along furniture and taking steps while she pushed her walker or held your hands.

it took him two days to come to terms with it.

so you sat on the couch and watched ella play in the ball pit playpen with her stuffed hippo. any other time, you might have cleaned up after her, picking up the balls she’d thrown out (because that was yet another thing she’d learned how to do), but you were doing your best to keep your eyes open.

it was the rattling of the doorknob that had you and ella perking up and looking towards the doorway. you could hear fumbling and what you assumed was mat’s hockey bag dropping to the ground.

despite that, it was still a moment or two before you saw mat walk into the living room with a....iced latte in hand?

you furrowed your brows. “what—”

“dada!” ella screamed, flapping her arm that wasn't holding her hippo, doing her best to scramble to her feet without letting go of her stuffie.

mat nearly dropped everything in his hands, including the coffee, which you were still hung up on, because he drank black coffee, not whatever light colored drink that was in his left hand.

“did she—?” he looked to you, hazel eyes wide as the sun. “did she say—”

“dada dada dada dada,” ella kept babbling, her voice only getting happier the closer he came to her.

“hey sweet girl,” he cooed, bending down and scooping her up with one arm. his voice sounded thick, and when you glanced at his face, his eyes looked a little shiny. “i missed you. did you keep mama bear up all night?”

“how did you know—”

“you replied to my text at 2am. you're usually asleep before midnight.” he said it so casually that you almost didn't clock the deeper meaning behind his words. he didn't even look at you, his gaze solely focused on his daughter. “how long has she been saying dada?” he asked.

you smiled. “yesterday, i got it on video. she likes to watch interviews of you sometimes and when i turned an older one on, she said it. i meant to send it to you after it happened, but i figured you'd wanna hear it in person, and if she didn't say it when you walked in, i’d show you the video later.”

“this was much better, thank you,” he said, finally looking you in the eye. then, like a lightbulb went off over his head, he reached his hand out with the iced coffee. “this is for you, figured you'd want coffee after staying up all night.”

you thanked him and hesitantly, took a sip. pleasantly surprised was a phrase you weren't used to using, especially when it came to your coffee order. there were seldom people in your life who could remember how much sugar, cream, and syrup that you liked in your coffee.

jason never remembered, said it was too complicated.

so when you took a sip and it was the exact flavor profile you'd grown accustomed to, you almost started crying.

“did i get it right?” he asked. “i wrote it down in my phone from a month ago just in case. if it’s wrong, ella and i can go grab another one—”

but your smile cut off any rambling left. “it’s perfect. how was your roadie?”

day ninety-two

mat was gracious enough to lend you his car for the day. he didn't have a game, just a morning skate which meant you didn't have to uber to storytime at the library.

it did mean, however, that you had to go pick him up because tito was busy after practice.

you were anxious initially because you had no idea how you'd get into the practice facility, and you weren’t keen on keeping the car running in this economy. thankfully, right as you were walking towards the building, dobson was walking out. he smiled and said a quiet good morning while he held the door for you and ella.

“barzy’s still on the ice,” he said. “should be finishing up any minute.”

“still? is it a punishment?”

dobson shrugged. “i think he's just trying to tighten up his shot.” he cleared his throat. “do you know how to get to the rink?”

you shrugged. “i'm sure i can figure it out.”

which you did, it was pretty self explanatory, though the signage definitely helped. you walked out to the rink and couldn't help the smile on your face when you saw mat zooming around at a ridiculous speed. mesmerized was the only word you could think to use to describe both you and ella. both your heads followed him around the rink.

which meant you had the perfect view of mat absolutely eating it and slamming into the boards behind the goal.

the laugh that burst from your mouth caught you off guard. given how mat flinched, you would say it caught him off guard too.

but you couldn't help it, the sight of him flailing and slamming into the boards had tears forming in your eyes from the sheer force of your laughter.

“oh my god,” you huffed out between laughs. “you're a professional!” you didn't need to say anymore, he knew what you were implying.

mat stuttered out your name. “y—you’re here?”

“i told you i’d pick you up, mat,” you got out through giggles. you walked closer to the ice, stopping at the gate. he hadn't gotten up off the ice, his legs were spread as he sat there. you couldn't place why, but it was still insanely funny to you. as you kept laughing, ella started too, letting out a loud baby cackle that echoed across the ice.

that seemed to kick mat into gear because he stood up and skated towards the two of you, a dopey smile on his face. you moved ella off your hip and in front of your body, holding her back against your chest so she could fully face mat.

“hey ella bean,” he smiled. he tossed his stick over the boards by the bench and reached for her.

“dada dada dada—” as she kept giggling and babbling, you watched as the smile on mat’s face got wider and wider.

you felt your heart lurch into your throat as mat took her out on the ice and started skating. “are you sure that’s safe?” you called out.

mat’s scoff echoed throughout the rink. “i’m a professional.”

“a professional at ending up on your ass.”

while supporting ella with one arm, mat flipped you off with the other hand as he skated around at a moderate pace. something between a scoff and a laugh burst from your mouth like the fireworks in that one katy perry music video.

mat’s head snapped to look at you, an expression on his face that you couldn't place, you'd never seen it before. he skated back to you, with ella still giggling.

“what?” you asked. “why're you looking at me like that?”

he shrugged. “i just like your laugh, is all. you should do it more.”

feeling shy, you looked down at your nails, you really needed to get a manicure done. “haven’t had much to laugh about lately.” the anxiety you had earlier didn't miraculously disappear after your conversation with beau, but up until this moment, you hadn't realized how quiet your mind had been.

a few weeks ago, it was consumed with jason’s words.

now you couldn't stop thinking about mat.

“well, i’ll gladly bust my ass over and over if you keep laughing like that.”

you couldn't help yourself, another laugh forced its way out of your mouth as you looked at him.

day one hundred and one

deep down in your bones, you could feel the exhaustion from yesterday seeping into today. it was a good exhaustion, though. one caused by brunch with grace, sydney, and alexa, a playdate with sofia and romanov’s daughter, deep cleaning the apartment while ella napped, and a nice walk in the park before mat’s game. 

he got home last night after a short roadie. it was a successful trip, with them winning more than they lost. you knew ella would be happy to see him when he woke up, all she talked about was “dada,” though that just might be the excitement of saying her favorite and only word.

for now, though, it was just you and ella sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. well, you were eating your cereal, she was spreading avocado around on her high chair. still, she was eating her scrambled eggs, so you couldn't really complain.

the two of you had moved into the living room with ella playing with her hippo and building blocks while you watched the newest episode of abbott elementary.

“is this a new one?” you jumped at the sound of mat’s morning voice and ignored the sensation in your stomach when you saw him rubbing at his eyes, bed head and all. 

“huh?”

mat opened his mouth, but at the sound of her father’s voice, ella turned around and screamed before crawling towards him. he didn't even hesitate to scoop her up and keep her cradled between his left arm and his chest.

“i said,” he started. “is this a new episode? i haven't seen this one yet.”

you blinked. “aren't they all new episodes to you?”

“what do you mean?”

did he hit his head or something? “mat, i've never seen you watch a single episode of anything that wasn't hockey highlights or espn...”

he shrugged. “that's because you're not with me on my roadies.”

it was your turn to ask, “what do you mean?”

mat rounded the couch and plopped down next to you, close enough to not be awkwardly apart but far enough that his leg wasn't touching yours, regardless of how much you wanted him to. “i started watching abbott on the road.”

“why would you do that?”

the tips of his ears turned pink. maybe it was warm in the apartment because the idea that you could cause him to blush wasn't something you were able to comprehend at eight in the morning. “you said you loved the show, i wanted to see what the hype was about.”

“you watched it because i told you about it?” it didn't make sense, no one had ever taken your recommendations seriously enough.

he wouldn't make eye contact with you. “beau kept falling asleep and i was tired of watching film and it popped up and you thought it was good so...”

you smiled to ease the anxiety on his face. “how far did you get?”

“i’m all caught up, except for this episode. i caught up on the roadie.”

“well,” you started. “you’re more than welcome to join us. if you want breakfast, i can pause it and wait.” but you remembered he was a professional hockey player, he probably had somewhere to be. “oh wait, when do you have to be at the rink?”

he checked his phone. “it’s not for a few hours because we got in so late. i’m yours in the meantime.”

you quickly turned your attention back to the screen so he couldn't see the flush on your face.

day one hundred and nine

it was a bad brain day. you couldn't explain it. you woke up and your mood soured. ella only marginally improved it, not even her giggles and smiles, as she stood in her crib babbling as you walked towards her, could fully fix your mood.

there was no rhyme or reason for it either.

well—

that wasn’t completely true.

you'd slept like shit last night. no twenty something should still be having nightmares, god you felt embarrassed just saying the word. but your brain didn't care about shoulds, shouldn’ts, and age because you woke up pouring sweat after jason berated you for what felt like hours.

he’ll get bored of you ringing in your head like church bells on sunday.

it was made worse when, to soothe the anxiety creeping in, you stupidly got on instagram. you should've known better, never in the history of the internet has going on social media improved your mood, especially instagram.

but there you were, staring at the instagram stories of the wags of the isles. pilates, jogs, dinner parties, team events you were too shy to go to. then you went to their feeds, wag jackets and happy families and all the things you wouldn't be a part of. they were rich, had a cool job, a happy nuclear family. and you were what? a nanny? you were a scandal waiting to happen.

he’ll get bored of you turned into it’s just a matter of time until mat finds a replacement. then, because your mind absolutely hated you, it would seem, mat’s own words echoed back to you.

and you knew it was out of context, he’d proven it to you over the last few weeks. but all you could hear was:

i’ll need some time to find someone else.

natalie was jason’s someone else.

who would mat’s be?

which was how you ended up crying into the pan of scrambled eggs. “sorry ella bean,” you managed to get out. “these will be mine, i’ll make you some fresh ones.” you plated the eggs and turned to set them aside on the island behind you, but you weren't expecting mat to be standing there in a white t-shirt and sweats.

no one should look that good in pajamas.

he’ll get bored of you.

“you okay?” and before you could even reply, mat was moving closer. “are you crying? what happened?”

you shook your head. “nothing.”

“it’s not nothing if you're crying into breakfast food.” he was right in front of you now. “c'mon, mama, you can talk to me.”

and you weren't sure why that one word did you in. “that’s not my name,” you huffed out.

“huh?” mat stepped closer and placed his large hands on your arms. “what’re you talking about—”

you stepped back into the counter, trying to get out of his hold. “‘mama’ isn’t my name. i’m not ella’s mom. i’m no one’s mom.”

his brows pulled together, his lips turned down into a frown. “i wasn’t asking you to be her mom, if you want me to find—”

“someone else, right?” you said. “you're just waiting to find someone else? everyone always is.” and it just burst from you. like it had been bubbling for twenty something years and this was the release. “i'm never enough for anyone. was i just a placeholder until she got a real mom? i can be a nanny but nothing more, right?”

“whoa, where is this coming from?” mat cut in, immediately breaking up whatever tirade you were going on. “who’s telling you these things?”

you wanted to scream. “you are! you told me you'd find someone else—”

“—if you didn't want to do this anymore! you weren't talking to me, and didn't seem very interested in doing this,” he gestured to himself and ella, “—at all.” he sighed, like he was calming himself. “i thought we were doing better these last few weeks. what changed?”

you shook your head. “just had a bad night.”

“please,” he begged. “please just tell me the truth.” another moment passed and you didn't say a word, you wouldn't even look at him. “was it jason?” you shifted on your feet. “what did he say?”

for a moment, you thought about shrugging it off, changing the subject. but you were so tired of bottling up all the negative thoughts, the buzzing bees in your head, you just let it all out. “he said you'd get bored of me,” you admitted, feeling a little embarrassed that you were so upset about it. “that i was just a nanny and once you realized you couldn't fuck me, you'd fire me and kick me out.”

you looked up just in time to see mat’s jaw clench. he opened his mouth to say something but shut it just as quickly. ella squawked from her seat so you quickly grabbed her out of her high chair and started bouncing her. she was probably hungry, but she seemed content just being in your arms.

“you know that's not true, right?” he said after a moment, his voice tight.

“i know i should believe you but the buzzing bees in my head, they...” you didn't finish.

“they what?”

“i’m not like them, mat. i don't have what they have.”

“who? you're not like who?”

“the other wags. you're gonna want someone who goes to games and has a car and can function in life without overthinking every little thing and...” 

he was shaking his head, his hazel eyes searching yours, like he was looking for the words to say, but couldn't find them. “who told you that's what i want?”

“everyone wants that, mat. i’m just—” ella started leaning and reaching for the eggs you cried into so you moved them out of reach.

after a moment of quiet, of ella just contentedly bouncing in your arms, mat spoke. “i didn't watch abbott elementary just because you said it was good, i watched it because i wanted you to talk to me,” he said, not looking away from your face once. “i wanted us to be us again and if watching a show i wasn’t familiar with meant i could talk to you, i would do it.”

his eyes darted away for a moment, a blush covering his face. but he pushed on anyway. “it turned out to be a really funny show so it wasn't like a burden or anything but i would’ve watched it even if it was garbage because it was something that you liked.”

“mat—”

“no, please let me finish.” he took in a deep breath and looked you dead in the eye. “i would've watched the scott’s tots episode of the office on repeat if you told me that's what you wanted to do.”

mat took a step closer to you, just a foot between you now. “beau said you didn’t believe that i could want you, sydney said it was because of something your piece of shit ex said. so i’ve spent the last few weeks trying to prove to you that i love you, that i love you right now, just like this. even with the million buzzing bees in your head telling you i can’t, i’m telling you i can and i do.”

the buzzing in your head stopped. you couldn't hear anything but—

i love you right now, just like this.

“there is no ‘someone else.’ there’s no one else i could want because you're here.”

“you're not gonna get bored of me?” you asked, kinda hating how weak your voice sounded, but not enough to be embarrassed about it. not when mat was standing so close to you, not when he was saying the things he was saying.

he smiled and shook his head. “i'm not gonna get bored of you.”

“even if i feel like a thursday in october?”

he blinked. “i don't know what that means, but yeah. even if you feel like a thursday in october.”

there was a part of you who wanted to believe him, who wanted to kiss him, but you still hesitated.

you hesitated until you thought about how mat called you every night on his first roadie away from ella, how he admitted that he missed her and kept waking up in the middle of the night expecting her to be down the hall, but how he felt safe knowing that she was with you. you thought about how he waited for you to call when you got into your apartment and immediately helped you move out when you found jason and natalie in bed together. you thought about how his family loved you, gave you christmas presents. you thought about the kiss, you thought about how he called matt when you left the apartment, how he asked if you had a jacket, how you were getting to the airport.

you hesitated until you realized he stole all the oxygen from your lungs. how you knew nothing about hockey prior to him and now it felt like your entire life. you thought about the family skate he'd invited you to in a month and how you dreamt of holding his hand in front of everyone. you thought about how nice it would be to wear his name on your back and know that he was yours at the end of the night.

you hesitated until you knew all the girls from his past, all the boys from yours, had led you both to this moment, standing in his kitchen in your pajamas with his child in your arms while he bared his heart to you.

“you promise just as i am right now?”

he nodded. “i promise, baby, i love you yesterday, right now, and tomorrow.”

you smiled, your heart racing, but your mind was quiet, quiet except for four words. “i love you, mat.”

“oh thank god,” he muttered before placing his hands on your cheeks and pulling your lips to his. he kissed you first, but you chased his lips when he tried to pull away.

it was only the need for air and ella’s screaming that pulled you two away from each other. “are you hungry, baby?” you asked.

“did mama not feed you fast enough?” mat teased, grabbing her from you and tossing her in the air a few times to get her laughing.

“mat,” you groaned.

“it’s okay though,” he said looking you dead in the eye, the widest smile you'd seen on his face. ella looked at you too, both of their faces scrunched up in that way you loved. “we love you anyway.”

mat barzal. nearly everyone in new york was obsessed with him, you knew him by the way he kissed you in the morning, when he got home from practice, before you went to bed. you knew him as the man who scooped his daughter up and tickled her just to hear her laugh. you knew him by the strong arms that would wrap around your waist.

you knew him by the way he loved you.

one hundred and nine days later, you loved him.

[mysterycitrus]

if you could erase a comic authors works and have them be written by anyone else (of your choosing), would you erase scott lobdell or tom taylor?

tom taylor is a performative egotistical hack with an annoying twitter account but id still keep his work over a literal sex criminal who unabashedly hates women and set abolitionist discourse in comics back about two decades

ive talked about it before but my personal ideal run would’ve been an outsiders book set in space, with roy and kory and dick as the mcs. outlaws is bad for the same reason that most of the new52 is — they supplant comic canon with lots of text boxes insisting that characters have a pre-existing relationship, and spend no time actually establishing or portraying it. we see this now even tho it makes no sense timeline wise (jason and roy are besties even though roy is at minimum 7+ years older than him and was on the titans with dick?)

because dick and kory and roy all have long standing relationships together and with each other it would’ve made for a compelling story. there’s so much baggage and so much love there. if u got someone like winnick who can be (occasionally) trusted not to turn books into a batfest we could’ve gotten quality roy and kory character moments too, something that functionally did not exist in outlaws autonomously from making jason look cool. or id get gretchen felker martin to write a jason book cause at the very least she seems to understand the inherent hypocrisy behind his personal politics

tbqh id rather we talk about how dan didio facilitated not only the terrible treatment of babs, roy and kory, and basically every legacy character outside of bruce but also kept lobdell on as a writer despite the numerous allegations against him and the unquestionably toxic environment he created in comics. it’s not a coincidence that the moment didio was booted lobdell followed suit on the same shoe

[offside-the-lines]

tell me who i run to (if not you) | anthony beauvillier

"The first sip is joy, the second is gladness, the third is serenity, the fourth is madness, the fifth is ecstasy." - Jack Kerouac

Summary In July of 2023, Evie looked at a list of cities in North America and rolled a die. Just like that, she packed up her life and moved to Chicago, a fresh start. The 2023-24 NHL season started well for Tito; he did not expect the call on November 28th telling him that he was being traded. To the worst team in the league. And just like that. 10 months after being ripped from his home, he had to pack up and move again. To an unfamiliar city, and to unfamiliar faces. Which is why, when Tito and Evie ran into each other, quite literally, on Christmas morning, they both latched on to a familiar face. Over the next few months, they became close friends. They didn’t talk about the nights shared in Chicago clubs.  They didn’t need to. Because they're just friends.  Right?

This is a completed fic split into episodes for easier reading. It was written for @bqstqnbruin as part of the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston.

Episode 1. Blue Christmas (4.9k) Episode 2. I. Winter (4.4k) Episode 3. Pal-entine's Day (4.8k) Episode 4. Four-leaf Clover (5.5k) Episode 5. Evie's Birthday 🌶️ (5.6k) Episode 6. II. Spring (4.8k) Episode 7. Not Goodbye 🌶️🌶️ (5.4k) Episode 8. III. Summer (4.8k) Episode 9. Tito's Birthday (4.2k)

Read it in full (44.5k)

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Under the cut: author's notes, tropes, warnings & disclaimer, fun tidbits, chapter summaries

Author's Notes: This fic was written for @bqstqnbruin as part of the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston. It got so out of control long so quickly. I genuinely had so much fun writing this, it's basically my magnum opus; if you look closely, I think you can probably see my soul in there somewhere. I would like to thank @devilssacrament, @wyattjohnston, and @forgottenflowers for being my editors, holding my hand and keeping me sane in this. Also, thanks to @swissboyhisch, and @imperatorrrrr for being a sounding board for ideas . All of your help and support has meant so much to me. You are all just the fucking best, I am sorry this has been my entire personality for the past month, I will probably return to normal soon. Probably...

Tropes: a gut-wrenching mix of angst and fluff with a happy ending, slow burn friends to lover (tbh, idiots to lovers let's be real), alternating POVs

Warnings: alcohol (one instance of alcohol poisoning by side character), mature content bordering on smut (mostly occurring in clubs/public), references to a toxic past relationship. Disclaimer: This series is set in Chicago but does not mention the name of the team based there. Only other Chicago players mentioned by name are: Nick Foligno, Jason Dickinson and Connor Bedard. Other notes: NHL players featured Mat Barzal (a heavily featured supporting character/bestie) and brief mentions of Zach Hyman and Matt Martin. Assume that Tito and Evie are always speaking in French with each other.

Face claim for Evie (if you want one, but you can imagine whoever you like): Adeline Rudolph

Fun Tidbits: Original Character (she/her) called Genevieve Gignac or Evie (pronounced eh-vee) is the oldest sibling of Tito's juniors teammate and friend Brandon Gignac. Along with their other sibling Wiliam, they grew up in Montreal. Evie had been living in Toronto for six years, before moving to Chicago in the summer before the fic starts. I did way too much research so a lot of the little facts are true. Nicknames: (ma) chouette (shoo-wet): owl (mon) chou/chouchou (shoo): in practice, honey, sugar, baby, sweetheart // by definition, my cabbage or my profiterole/cream puff (depends who you ask) Solours (soul-oars): the Québécois name for the yellow Care Bear with the smiling sun on its belly Solou’ (soul-oo): a diminutive Evie decides to use

Cook, Cook, drink your tea, But save some in the pot for me. We'll watch the tea leaves in our cup When our drink is all sipped up. Happiness or fortune great, What will our future be? -- "Afternoon Tea at Pittock Mansion" by R.Z. Berry

Episode Synopses:

Blue Christmas Evie and Tito are both starting life anew in Chicago. It's an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar faces. They're both alone on Christmas. Maybe it's fate that brings them together. Jason and Alandra Dickinson are already smelling smoke from this fire.

I. Winter Tito injures his wrist in the first game of 2024, he’s out for 6-8 weeks and then his car breaks down. He thinks maybe he’s cursed. Evie becomes a shoulder to lean on. Barzy gets suspicious.

Pal-entine’s Day Tito returns her kindness by being a shoulder Evie can lean on when she is having a hard time after all-star break. She tells him it’s anxiety about work. He brings her a box of pastries and they cuddle on the couch all day; he doesn’t realize it’s Valentine’s Day. Later, a hook-up goes very wrong.

Four-leaf Clover Tito’s been playing again, and during his first stretch of away games begins to miss home. Well, Evie’s home anyway. When he sees her in the bar, he can’t help but show it. Barzy calls him out on his lies.

Evie’s Birthday Sometimes the music moves you. Sometimes the bass pounding in your chest makes you do things you wouldn’t do. Fuck it, it’s your birthday. That’s what Evie tells herself anyway. There are gifts given, but there are also secrets kept. 

II. Spring Tito tries to tell her— he does— It’s just he needs to find the right time, and something keeps coming up. Evie’s honest with herself. But does that even matter? Mat decides maybe it is his time to intervene.

Not Goodbye Evie realizes that her time is running out. To do what? She doesn’t know. But she has one last night to find out. That is until— Well. It’s too late now. Tito flies home and wonders if that will be the worst mistake of his life.

III. Summer They try to get on with their summers as if nothing is wrong, convincing no one. How long will it take them to realize they can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine? And who will finally take the leap of faith?

Tito’s Birthday Tito receives the best birthday present he has ever gotten: the girl he loves standing at his parent’s front door. It was never destiny or fate; it can only be by choice. And they’ll choose each other every time. Eventually, anyway.

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[literallymechanical]

What should I read next?

Tumblr help I keep not knowing what to read next. Here is a complete and comprehensive list of the qualities I'm looking for:

It should be a good book

The plot, characters, and setting should be good too

The writing should also be good

Here are a few books that I have found to be good in the past couple of years, roughly in reverse chronological order:

Children of Time and Dogs of War by Adrian Tchaikovsky (high-concept speculative biology scifi)

Exordia and the Baru Cormorant series by Seth Dickinson (Obama-era foreign policy scifi and colonial british empire fantasy, respectively)

Murderbot by Martha Wells (zippy space opera action novellas)

The Zoe Ashe series by Jason Pargin (splashy near-future scifi comedy satire)

The Terra Ignota series by Ada Palmer (scifi taxi voltaire with god's favorite unreliable narrator)

The Craft Sequence by Max Gladstone (necromancy + courtroom drama + science fantasy horror)

Empress of Forever, also by Max Gladstone (Gender-Swapped Journey To The West, In Space)

This Is How You Lose The Time War, by Max Gladstone and Amal El-Mohtar

I just really like Max Gladstone okay

The Locked Tomb by Tamsyn Muir (we all know this one)

A Memory Called Empire by Arkadiy Martine (science fiction political thriller written by a scholar of Byzantine history)

I'm willing to branch out of my extremely obvious genre preferences, though I've been reading a lot of horror novels lately and might want something less horrifying.

[cursed-sonic-opinions]

trying out a new style of opinion posts, let's do some polls

[aresianrepose]

Before the semester kicks off and murders me, @disniq​ asked for my essay on Jason Todd and hysteria. So, without further ado, here is an actual essay (fucking dissertation) because I refuse brevity. It is extremely long. I’ve split it into sections so you can find the section header and read what you want. This does not encompass all the narrative trauma themes and lived experiences that this boy holds, just specifically hysteria. 

Jason Todd, The Hysteric & Bruce Wayne, The Batman

I think it’s a common reading that Jason Todd is girl-coded and the patron saint of victims, at least within the circle that I’ve fallen into within this fandom. There are plenty of meta discussions on why those readings stand, so I’m not going to reiterate them. A pillar of him being girl-coded and someone trauma survivors have latched onto as one of our own has to do with being written in the context of hysterical femininity. And let me just say, I don’t think that writing was done in a way that he was intentionally coded as hysterical, but it is a function of our patriarchal society that this coding was used on him albeit without the explicit purpose of writing a hysteric story. 

For the purpose of this post: the word woman includes ciswomen, transwomen, and any person who is socially positioned as a woman regardless of gender identity. I include the positionality here because anyone can experience misogyny and sexism depending on the perception of the perpetrators either interpersonally or systemically. 

The History and Context of Hysteria

To understand the context, we have to look at the history and oppression of hysteria. Hysteria (in the modern context of psychology) emerged in the nineteenth century and is difficult to define by design and often applied to traumatized, unruly, and broken women. The main patriarchs who contributed to hysterical study were Jean-Martin Charcot and Sigmund Freud. I only mention this because it’s important to know their names moving forward for any of this to make sense. The beginning of this started with Charcot literally putting women whose lives had been marked by rape, abuse, exploitation, and poverty on display in his Tuesday lectures (which were open to the public) to show his findings on hysteria. This was actually seen as restoring dignity (fucking yikes) to the women because before Charcot these hysterical women were cast aside and not treated at all. In Charcot’s work, the women’s speech was seen as simply “vocalization” and their inner lives, their stories, their words, were silenced. After hearing a woman cry for her mother during one of the public sessions Charcot remarked, “Again, note these screams. You could say it’s a lot of noise over nothing” (Herman). 

This led to Freud, Charcot’s student, wanting to surpass his teacher by discovering the cause of hysteria. This was disastrous. Freud started with listening to the hysterics. In doing so, he learned and believed them about the abuse, rape, and exploitation of their pasts. He then published his work and gave a lecture on it. The work rivals even contemporary psychological work on trauma in it’s level of compassion, understanding, and treatment of survivors. However, he was then labeled a feminist (this was all happening during the first wave of feminism) and professionally ostracized. How in the world could these aristocratic French men be sexually abusing their wives, sisters, and daughters??? Insanity, truly. And... This always fucking gets me. He recanted his work and then told his patients they all imagined it because they wanted to be sexually abused by their husbands, brothers, and fathers. This set back the study of trauma by literally a century. One colleague called his work “a scientific fairy-tale” simply because he had the audacity to believe victims. Also, I want to point out that the famous hysteria case during this time was the case of Anna O and she was ultimately villainized by the entire psychological community for going into crisis after her care provider abruptly ended their therapeutic relationship after two years of DAILY sessions. 

Anyway. We can see how the power of these men over vulnerable women silenced, pathologized, villainized, infantilized, and used male ‘logic’ to completely destroy their credibility and lives under the guise of care and hysteria. Even when credible men lend their expertise and voices to the victims, their voices are silenced. This particular iteration of hysteria lasted over a century, and we are still dealing with the consequences of these actions and ideas within our social construction, medical and mental health care, interpersonal relationships, and more. Patriarchal pillars such as hysteria don’t die. We saw it move from hysteria to schizophrenia (which used to have the same symptoms of hysteria before the diagnosis changed in more contemporary psychology) after this which led to widespread lobotomies and electroshock therapy (my least favorite case of a lobotomy being done is on a woman who was diagnosed with LITERALLY ‘narcissist husband’) to depression in the 40s-50s with the over prescription of benzodiazepines to house wives to keep them in a zombie state (these prescriptions were sometimes double and triple what we take today with the intent of medical catatonia). In my opinion, as well as other counselors within the feminist therapy theoretical orientation, we are currently seeing it with the emergence of borderline-personality disorder. Think about how BPD is treated and demonized for a second. I professionally know therapists who refuse to work with BPD clients due to this villainization and just fucking gross perception of victims.

These are just the highlights, but it shows the history of hysteria. There have been centuries of women being marked as hysterical and the cures have ranged from lobotomy to bed rest (which sounds not so bad but read the Yellow Wallpaper and get back to me on that one). While the Yellow Wallpaper is fictional, the life behind it was not. After the traumatic birth of her child the author, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, was remanded to bed rest by the authority of her husband and doctor. Within the sphere of medical control, hysterical women are often treated as children while their doctors make decisions for their mental well-being without consulting them, or they hide the truth of their procedures for “the woman’s own good” and because “she’s hysterical and wouldn’t comprehend the logical need for this.” She then had a mental break due to the treatment. Again, we see hysterical women being silenced, infantilized, discredited from their own experiences, and under the narrative control of male logic and voices. 

Hysterical women have often historically been seen as beneath men, except for when they’re dangerous. Listening to victims is inherently threatening to the status quo because all trauma comes from a systemic framework. The framework that upholds patriarchal power. It’s easy to see why that would be seen as dangerous to powerful men. We saw this with the European witch genocide in which oppressed women were targeted and wiped out under the excuse of what was considered women’s work. (Before this time, witchcraft wasn’t tied to any religion and was mostly just seen as women’s work. It was targeted specifically to have an excuse to persecute widows, homeless, disabled, and vulnerable women who no longer had men to reign over them during a time of political unrest and scarce resources). This time period saw hysterical and traumatized women demonized as dangerous, evil, immoral, hypersexual, and supernaturally wily. A threat to the moral fabric of society. 

(Interesting history side note: this caused the view of women’s base traits we have today. It stemmed from the Victorian era that came after this time period in which women learned if they behaved a certain way, they would be spared the stake. For example, before the witch trials, women were actually seen as the ones with unsatiable sexual appetites, something we culturally prescribe to men now.) 

Notice how none of this has to do with the actual abuse that happens to the women, but instead the labeling and treatment of women when they are already showing the symptoms of abuse, trauma, control, exploitation, and rape. 

Jason Todd, The Hysteric

So, how does this relate to Jason Todd? To say that Jason has experienced trauma would be an understatement. Extreme poverty, loss of parent to death and addiction, loss of parent to the justice system, parental abuse, manipulation, witnessing violent crimes, witnessing the aftermath of sexual abuse and assault, arguably (not explicit in the text) his own sexual trauma, witnessing the dead bodies of victims, a violent death, and subsequently a violent resurrection. There’s also an argument to be made for being a child soldier and how that is romanticized up until he dies, but the text does not treat this as traumatizing.

Now, I’m not going to dive into the trauma he experienced. The purpose of this is only to look at how he’s framed as hysterical in the narrative, and as I stated, hysteria was a word slapped on women after they tried to talk about their trauma or exhibited symptoms (or were just unruly women). Jason does embody many facets of the victim experience and this is just one of them. 

Feelings vs “logic” - Firstly, it is really hard to talk calmly about things that you carry, your experiences, your trauma, and things that specifically harm you. It is easy to talk calmly about things that don’t. This is why there is an abuse tactic of gaslighting or silencing victims by framing their very real reactions to harm or their triggers as abuse, this is known as “reactive abuse.” This tactic is also employed in oppressive settings where the privileged group will often default to ‘winning’ a debate by being able to remain calm while the marginalized group whose life, personhood, etc is being harmed by the things being discussed and are unable to have a sterilized, emotionless debate. 

Both of these settings fit Jason nicely within the moral context of vigilante comics. He fought back, he didn’t lay down, and he will do what he deems as necessary to protect himself and others from his fate. This, however, is framed by Bruce and others as being just as bad as his murderer or even just as bad as Joe fucking Chill. To put this in perspective of a real world equivalent. Combine every billionaire on this planet into one person and instead of their shitty business practices murdering people, they did it with their own two hands. And due to their resources and political power, they would never, ever stop killing or be reasonably contained. More people would die with absolute 100% certainty. Would killing that one person make you equally bad as that person or violating the sanctity of life? That’s the moral question that Bruce puts onto Jason. While the moral question inherent to Jason is actually, is there a line worth crossing to provide reasonable safety (for yourself or the nameless community)? There is actually a difference between those two questions and the reactive abuse framing is certainly a choice. Also, it is funny to me that a man with the amount of power Bruce has (and frequently misuses) can lecture a murder victim on the misuse of power and morality. Are we supposed to be agree with his stoic, philosophical lecturing to a marginalized, abused, murder victim? (yes, we are). Bruce leverages (personal) philosophy against victim’s voice for their own safety, and take a wild guess which one is framed as logical and reasonable.

Jason’s morals come secondary to Bruce’s philosophy in a universe where there is still harm being done (but it’s an acceptable harm). Why is killing the line? Bruce is regularly destroying families and lives by feeding them into the prison industrial complex while supporting it with his whole chest. Or he’s disabling and seriously maiming people with the level of violence he uses. 

Crying - Throughout the entire story of Under the Red Hood, we never once see Bruce emote while interacting with Jason outside of tight grimaces. With the exception of the shock he shows at the Joker’s life being threatened, which... Okay, suuure. We never see him cry during any of their interactions, but we do see Jason cry. Specifically, we see him crying when he’s at his most emotionally vulnerable and physically dangerous to the toxic male power fantasy. This kind of vulnerability is rarely shown by male characters, and when it is, it’s usually done with a mist of a tear in their eyes or their face is hidden. There are a few narrative devices that allow men to cry, but they are the exception rather than the rule. Usually, it’s to play for laughs, infantilize, or emasculate. Here, we see Jason combine the violence of a bad victim, bucking the system of power, and fully crying. Just slide right into that hysterical coding like a glove. Jason often shows his feelings entirely. Time and time again, the readers have seen Jason have breakdowns, cry, and be overcome with grief. This is tied to his portrayal as hysterical and unstable in the narrative, but in actuality it shows his capacity for love and how vastly impactful his death was. 

This fits nicely with the next point that Jason fits into the hysterical box. Love is framed as one of his key faults. A son reaching for his father. 

Love - One of Jason’s defining features is the amount of love and compassion he holds. He’s willing to put up with any treatment, shoulder blame, and sacrifice himself for others to almost an unhealthy degree. However, this doesn’t extend to what he defines as his baseline safety. This one line of safety is the one thing that can’t be crossed, even with all of the love he feels for his father. He desperately wants to feel connection, have a family, and be loved in return with the same unwavering ferocity love that he gives. This is such a fucking key part of the victim experience, especially victims of childhood trauma. The desperation to just be chosen. He’s raw and honest with his reasonable expectation for love to provide safety for him and that is framed as hysterical, needy, unstable, naive, and fucking childish. Victims know what they need to have safety, and this framing as Bruce knowing what’s best for Jason and literally giving a cold shoulder to his needs is disgusting. 

Less than - Jason is portrayed as less powerful than Bruce even though they have similar expertise. There are so many instances of this that if you just open any media they both appear in, you can close your eyes, point, and land on an example. It makes me die laughing every time I remember that the Arkham games made Jason just one inch shorter than Bruce. Like, they can’t even be the same fucking height, that’s the level of insecure masculinity surrounding this relationship. Jason cannot and will never be able to be on par with Bruce because of his hysterical femininity and the power of Bruce being the self insert for the toxic male power fantasy. This power dynamic applies to the other batkids as well, but specifically in Jason’s case there is an element of hysteria. The reasons change because he’s so inconsistently written but usually he can’t surpass or even meet a stalemate with Bruce because he’s too emotional, he’s unstable, traumatized, and simply Bad. It’s even explicitly stated by Alfred in Under the Red Hood. 

Victim blaming - Jason deserved to die because he didn’t follow orders. Jason deserved to die for not following his training. Jason deserved to die because he was an angry Robin (oh no a child had an appropriate reaction to sexual violence). Jason deserved to die for being human.

Infantilization - Jason is repeatedly infantilized in contrast to Bruce. When given the ultimatum at the end of UtRH, Bruce speaks to Jason like a child, or a bad dog. Ordering him to do things like, “enough!” or “stop this now.” Bruce knows what’s best for Jason (and for everyone in the entire world), we should really just take his word for it and not the victim’s. Imagine staring at a 6 foot wall of a man and scolding him like a child. Beyond that, as mentioned above, his views of love and safety are framed as childish. Even though they are actually leaning more toward collectivism rather than the rampant individualism that Bruce so strongly defers to. (also, just a side note, collectivistic methods in healing from trauma is actually the only scientifically reliable way to heal. Every other method has absolutely abysmal results and higher rates of relapses.)

Silenced and Safety Villainized - Jason is silenced in his own story, acceptable and honored when he was dead and met with vitriol in life. All of the love given to him as Robin turns to ash as soon as he collides with Bruce’s power and morals. I think any survivor can relate to the experience of being told that what happened to them was a long time ago and it’s time to move on. Or even that they’re leveraging their own safety to get what they want in a manipulative way. Regardless of whether or not there was any accountability or justice for the harm done to them. Alfred asks Bruce if he should remove Jason’s memorial in the cave like two seconds after learning of his resurrection because Jason’s methods of securing safety for himself and using his own voice to define his story. Bruce was able to tell Jason’s story when he died. He was able to memorialize, grieve, and ultimately define Jason’s story because Jason wasn’t there to speak for himself. When Jason does speak for himself, he is villainized and literally stripped of his past significance as Robin (or a good victim) by Alfred within seconds. This is reflected in real life with adoptee advocates speaking about how adoption is unethical/harmful/traumatizing and subsequently being framed as ungrateful, selfish, etc. They were little perfect victims without voices before they grew up and could speak for themselves.

Erased - Gestures at the entirety of how Jason is either talked about or completely erased during the 90s Tim Robin run. He wasn’t convenient to talk about, as victims rarely are. This also ties into how Steph’s death was erased and Babs was written like she “won” at trauma by simply... beating it??? 

Dangerous - Jason is framed as threatening the basic fabric of society (in a story with vigilantes this is hard to do, so they have him oppose the no-kill rule, and then doubled down on Bruce’s characterization of no-killing). Anything that bucks the status-quo is usually marked as villainous in mainstream vigilante/superhero comics, but this is a step beyond that into the interpersonal and political sphere. Hysterical women are often framed as dangerous, villains, snakes, and treacherous (the other side of this coin is weak, pathetic, and pitiable) because they are victimized and then have the audacity to do something to the system about it. Whether that be the system of their immediate families or the political sphere. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Jason was paired with Talia in Lost Days to hammer this point home to the reader. It could’ve just as easily been anyone with access to the Pit that rescued him, but no, we had DC’s favorite brown, treacherous, venomous, female punching bag. 

Bruce Wayne, The Batman

Bruce fits well into the father, enforcer, and logical man slot in Jason’s hysterical story. There is a history of ownership throughout women’s history when it comes to their subjugation to men. Women actually couldn’t be put on trial before the witchcraft genocide because they weren’t seen as legally a person. Their male owner would be put on trial instead. Women would go from being owned by their fathers to their husbands after entering marriage, the most dangerous woman being one who isn’t owned (orphaned, widowed). Bruce does treat (and even thinks) about Jason like he’s something that he owns. He’s his protege, his son, and his responsibility. 

The narrative function of Bruce as a perpetrator in Jason’s story. 

“The perpetrator asks the bystander (reader) to do nothing. He appeals to the universal desire to see, hear, and speak no evil. The victim, on the contrary, asks the bystander (reader) to share the burden of pain. The victim demands action, engagement and remembering” (Herman). 

Bruce does remember what happened to Jason. He keeps a permanent memorial to his dead son. However, this doesn’t translate into any kind of tangible action. He doesn’t do anything to actually stop the murderer who took his son’s life and he continues to throw child soldiers at the problem of crime (how many children have died for the sake of his no-kill rule at this point?). When met with the reality of his inaction, he fits into the perpetrator’s role like a glove:

“In order to escape accountability for his crimes, the perpetrator does everything in his power to promote forgetting. Secrecy and silence are the first line of defense... If secrecy fails, the perpetrator attacks the credibility of his victim. If he cannot silence her absolutely, he tries to make sure that no one listens... From the most blatant denial to the most sophisticated and elegant rationalization... One can expect to hear the same predictable apologies: it never happened; the victim exaggerates; the victim brought it upon herself; and in any case it’s time to forget the past and move on. The more powerful the perpetrator, the greater his prerogative to name and define reality, the more completely his arguments prevail” (Herman). 

I think it is simply fact at this point that Bruce is the head patriarch in Gotham if not, arguably, in the entirety of DC. That level of power in the narrative cannot be ignored, especially when faced with the very real, screaming voice of a victim that Bruce uses all of that power to silence. Bruce, because of his status as patriarch, default protagonist, and self-insert for the toxic male power fantasy, has the ultimate power to name and define reality. Especially to the reader. Bruce doesn’t deny what happened to Jason, because that’s physically impossible to do. But what he does do is ensure that no one listens to Jason, discredits him, and rationalizes his own inaction, actions of violence towards Jason, and victim blames.

Here’s Bruce using the most base form of denial and victim blaming:

After this panel, Bruce also revokes Dick’s access to his childhood home simply for asking a question.

This theme extends to other members of the batfam because of Bruce’s narrative power over them. It’s why we can’t have Dick, Steph, Babs, or even Damian step in and relate to Jason’s trauma or vindicate him. Even when we, the readers, can see parallels and wonder why these conversations or bonds aren’t forming. Jason HAS to be a lone wolf because he is hysterical and a threat to the system of power. This also shows why most of his runs in group settings outside of the batfam fall apart or fall flat. If he was humanized by any other character or had his trauma validated in any actionable way, it would be recognizing the failure of the toxic male power fantasy. The readers are not supposed to see the flaw in this system that allows the bodies of children to pile up and sympathize with one of their voices. It would be a crack in the system of power that exists not only in the source material, but very much within our real world.

Side note: Jason is allowed to interact with others in a wholesome and validating way when he no longer threatens the systemic power of Bruce. When he is silenced by the writers and plays the “nice victim” (like Babs does), he is allowed connection. Only when his healing is done in a way that doesn’t demand action and is only his personal responsibility (gotta love the rampant individualism). If he is hysterical, demands action, and asks for someone to be held accountable for his death, he is shoved away into a lone wolf box. Examples: Gotham Knights (from my very basic understanding, I haven’t played the game, only seen play throughs) and WFA. Victims are acceptable if they do their healing in a neat little box and stay there, but hysterics are the ones who step outside of that box.

Red Hood, The Political Voice of Hysteria and Trauma

Red Hood is deeply political in terms of hysteria and trauma. Herman stated that victims and those that authentically care for them or listen to them intently (whether that be interpersonally, clinically, or professionally) are silenced, ostracized, and discredited. Survivors need a social context that supports the victim and that joins the victim and witness in a common alliance. On an interpersonal level this looks like family, friends, and loved ones. However, trauma is systemic and the social context mentioned above must also be given on a wider social scale. For this to be done, there had to be systemic change and political action. Jason had the interpersonal social support and witnesses to his trauma ripped from him by Bruce. So, we see him move onto a systemic level of addressing trauma in his own political way. He literally cannot escape Bruce and this constant trigger because of Bruce’s philosophy and just... fucking power to define reality... being re-enforced constantly in DC no matter where he tries to go. So, he tries to heal by taking the systemic issue of perpetrators who cannot be held accountable or have fallen through the cracks of accountability into his own hands in a very personal way. A one man political movement.

Whether his methods are moral or ethical doesn’t really matter in the overall framing him as hysteric. He simply has to be opposed by the male power fantasy in some significant way. This shows that the goals, needs, and work towards victim’s and the marginalized’s freedom is dangerous, doomed to fail, and ultimately unethical if the victim is framed in a villain light instead of the more pathetic/pitiable iteration of hysteria. 

You can see how this is not only problematic but also reflects the real world values instilled in arguments against human rights movements (which are intrinsically tied to victims rights). Defunding the police is dangerous, the MeToo movement is dangerous, abolition is dangerous, trans rights are dangerous, etc etc etc. Think of the victims voices tied to each of these movements and how they are integral to the real change offered by these political movements. You can’t have human rights violations without creating victims. And you can’t have political movements surrounding human rights without listening to victims.

We can also see how the individuals within these movements are ostracized, villianized, and often silenced (sometimes ultimately silenced with death) because they rally against the systems of power that victimized them. The framing of traumatized, vulnerable people as hysterical is integral to upholding the system of power that traumatizes and harms them.

A popular comic book movie adaptation that highlights the importance of Jason’s hysterical framing and how it impacts the political narrative/how he is written is V for Vendetta. To be fair, it received an insane amount of backlash by conservatives (not within leftist or liberal spaces) for V’s methods in over throwing fascism, but only because of the movie’s release date being so close to 9/11. V and Jason have many parallels, it’s only the lack of hysterical framing that makes V more palatable to the viewer. We are told, not shown through behavior, that V is traumatized by his past and he does not pick a fight with the protagonist that functions as a toxic male power fantasy. He is the protag, with his version of Bruce being men who are not framed in a sympathetic, heroic, or relatable light. 

Additionally, there is literally an unemoting mask standing between the viewer and V, whereas Jason takes off his helmet to allow the reader to see every aspect of his trauma and pain. V readily dehumanizes himself into an idea, rather than a person. Whereas Jason screams to be seen as a person in a very hysterical way. So, we can see how the framing of Jason as hysteric against the logical, heroic man greatly impacts how the audience reads him when contrasted by a very similar political story/character who uses similar (and arguably more violent) methods to meet his ends. (This just made me realize that I would die for a Jason adaptation written by the Wachowski sisters). 

Jason’s work as Red Hood is seeped in leftist, victim, and community centered politics. His portrayal as a hysterical antagonist (at best an anti-hero) is rooted in misogyny and upholding patriarchal, capitalist, and the prison industrial complex systems of power. He is the righteous embodiment of “the personal is political” for victims. Even his Robin run draws attention to and shows correct, angry reactions to the system of patriarchal power in sexual violence.

Patriarchal Writing and Enforcement

Jason is girl-coded and hysterical because he’s supposed to be emasculated, discredited, and disliked by the reader. He serves the narrative function of boosting the toxic male power fantasy of Bruce and in doing so, the writers use one of the oldest tropes in the book (one that we have all subconsciously been taught since birth) to get the reader on their side. Make him a hysterical woman. 

References: for anyone interested in furthering their understanding of any of the concepts mentioned above and to, you know, use sources for my own writing.

Barstow, A. Witchcraze

Bondi, L., Burman. E. Women and Mental Health: A Feminist Review

Freud, S. The Aietology of Hysteria

Gilman, C. P. The Yellow Wallpaper

Herman, J. Trauma and Recovery

Ussher, J. The Madness of Women.

Van der Kolk, B. The Body Keeps the Score

Wilkin, L., Hillock, S. Enhancing MSW Students’ Efficacy in Working with Trauma, Violence, and Oppression: An Integrated Feminist-Trauma Framework for Social Work Education

[lands-of-fantasy]

Pride and Prejudice

Classic and loose adaptions from 1940, 1967, 1980, 1995, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2012, 2016, 2018, 2019

The second of Jane Austen’s novels, first published in 1813, is the most often adapted, inspiring various different takes on it. The ones pictures above are detailed below:

Pride and Prejudice (1940 Film)

This black and white film departs from the original novel in some (or should I say many?) points

Written by Aldous Huxley and Jane Murfin, adapted from the stage adaptation by Helen Jerome; directed by Robert Z. Leonard

Starring Greer Garson as Elizabeth Bennet, Laurence Olivier as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Edward Ashley Cooper as George Wickham, Maureen O'Sullivan as Jane Bennet, Bruce Lester as Mr. Charles Bingley, Ann Rutherford as Lydia Bennet, Melville Cooper as Mr. William Collins, among others.

Pride and Prejudice (1967 Miniseries)

6 episodes x 24min. Black and White footage Written by Nemone Lethbridge, directed by Joan Craft

Starring Celia Bannerman as Elizabeth Bennet, Lewis Fiander as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Richard Hampton as George Wickham, Polly Adams as Jane Bennet, David Savile as Mr. Charles Bingley, Lucy Fleming as Lydia Bennet, Julian Curry as Mr. William Collins, among others.

Pride and Prejudice (1980 Miniseries)

5 episodes x 54 min Written by Fay Weldon, directed by Cyril Coke

Starring Elizabeth Garvie as Elizabeth Bennet, David Rintoul as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Peter Settelen as George Wickham, Sabina Franklyn as Jane Bennet, Osmund Bullock as Mr. Charles Bingley, Natalie Ogle as Lydia Bennet, Malcolm Rennie as Mr. William Collins, among others.

Pride and Prejudice (1995 Miniseries)

6 episodes x 54 min Written by Andrew Davies, directed by Simon Langton

Starring Jennifer Ehle as Elizabeth Bennet, Colin Firth as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Adrian Lukis as George Wickham, Susannah Harker as Jane Bennet, Crispin Bonham-Carter as Mr. Charles Bingley, Julia Sawalha as Lydia Bennet, David Bamber as Mr. William Collins, among others.

Pride and Prejudice (2003 Indie Film)

Loose adaption set in modern Utah, USA Written by Anne Black, Jason Faller, Katherine Swigert; directed by Andrew Black

Starring Kam Heskin as Elizabeth Bennet, Orlando Seale as Will Darcy, Henry Maguire as Jack Wickham, Lucila Sola as Jane Vasquez, Ben Gourley as Charles Bingley, Kelly Stables as Lydia Meryton, Hubbel Palmer as William Collins, among others.

Bride and Prejudice (2004 Film)

Bollywood-style Musical. Loose adaption set in modern India and England. Written by Paul Mayeda Berges, Gurinder Chadha; directed by Gurinder Chadha

Starring Aishwarya Rai as Lalita Bakshi (Elizabeth), Martin Henderson as William "Will" Darcy,  Daniel Gillies as Johnny Wickham, Namrata Shirodkar as Jaya Bakshi (Jane), Naveen Andrews as Mr Balraj Uppal (Bingley), Peeya Rai Chowdhary as Lakhi Bakshi (Lydia), Nitin Ganatra as Kohli Saab (Collins), among others.

Pride and Prejudice (2005 Film)

Written by Deborah Moggach, directed by Joe Wright

Starring Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet, Matthew Macfadyen as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Rupert Friend as George Wickham, Rosamund Pike as Jane Bennet, Simon Woods as Mr. Charles Bingley, Jena Malone as Lydia Bennet, Claudie Blakley as Charlotte Lucas, Tom Hollander as Mr. Collins, Donald Sutherland as Mr. Bennet, Judi Dench as Lady Catherine de Bourgh, among others.

The Lizzie Bennet Diaries (2012–13 Webseries)

160 episodes x 2-8 min, available on Youtube Loose adaption set in modern US, told in a vlog format

Created by Hank Green and Bernie Su, from Pemberley Digital

Starring Ashley Clements as Elizabeth Bennet, Daniel Vincent Gordh as William Darcy, Wes Aderhold as George Wickham, Laura Spencer as Jane Bennet, Christopher Sean as Bing Lee, Mary Kate Wiles as Lydia Bennet, Julia Cho as Charlotte Lu, Maxwell Glick as Ricky Collins, among others.

Lizzie’s videos amount to 100 episodes + 10 Q&A, but shorter series enrich the story by offering other characters’ perspectives, most notably Lydia’s (and also Georgiana’s). A playlist at Pemberley Digital’s Youtube channel features them all in order.

The series has also been adapted into a book, The Secret Diary of Lizzie Bennet (2014), and spawned a sequel novel, The Epic Adventures of Lydia Bennet (2015).

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (2016 Film)

Loose adaption inspired by the 2009 novel of the same name by Seth Grahame-Smith, which adds zombies to Austen’s original story. The movie makes alterations from the zombie book as well.

Written and directed by Burr Steers

Starring Lily James as Elizabeth Bennet, Sam Riley as Colonel Fitzwilliam Darcy, Jack Huston as George Wickham, Bella Heathcote as Jane Bennet, Douglas Booth as Mr. Charles Bingley, Ellie Bamber as Lydia Bennet, Matt Smith as Parson William Collins, among others.

Orgulho e Paixão (Pride and Passion) (2018 Telenovela)

Brazilian telenovela in Brazilian-Portuguese

162 episodes x 30-40min (original version) Loose adaption set in 1910s São Paulo state, Brazil

Created by Marcos Bernstein, directed by Fred Mayrink

Starring Nathalia Dill as Elisabeta Benetido, Thiago Lacerda as Sr. Darcy Williamson, Pâmela Tomé as Jane Benedito, Maurício Destri as Camilo Bittencourt (Bingley), Bruna Giphao as Lídia Benedito, Bruno Gissoni as Diogo Uirapuru (Wickham/Willoughby), among others.

The story takes inspiration from all 6 of Austen’s major novels (plus Lady Susan), but mostly from Pride and Prejudice. Others stars include Chandelly Braz as Mariana Benedito (Marianne Dashwood) and Anajú Dorigon as Cecília Benedito (Catherine Morland).

Features 100 episodes in the International cut. The telenovela has been broadcast in other countries and languages (such as Spanish) but as far as I know, not in English.

Pride and Prejudice: Atlanta (2019 TV Film)

Loose adaption set in modern Atlanta, USA. All-black cast. Written by Tracy McMillan, directed by Rhonda Baraka

Starring Tiffany Hines as Elizabeth Bennet, Juan Antonio as Will Darcy, Raney Branch as Jane Bennet, Brad James as Charles Bingley, Reginae Carter as Lydia Bennet, Carl Anthony Payne as Rev. Collins, among others.

*****

Personal favorites: 2005, then 1995. But also: The Lizzie Bennet Diaries, Orgulho e Paixão

I also enjoyed Atlanta and, while it’s been a while since I’ve seen Bride and Prejudice, it’s got Indian musical numbers so c’mon, one gotta watch it.

Back to the closer adaptions, despite its age, 1980 is also good! 1940 is...very different, but fun in its own way.

In fact, while I find some of these versions weaker, I could find enjoyment in all of them - but maybe that’s cause I’m a sucker for P&P.

[monsieuroverlord]

September 2024 Solicits are up!

We'll have quite a line-up for this month! From the Ashes Era of X-Books officially kicks off and there are plenty of first wave books to check out!

There's also a new Marvel Zombies -- this time a vrus created by Groot?

Lots of Spider-man and Venom as well.

Source here

Dazzler #1

written by Jason Loo, art by Rafael Loureiro, main cover by Terry Dodson & Rachel Dodson

"SO BRIGHT THIS STAR!

DAZZLER, Marvel’s glittering mutant songstress, has been in and out of the limelight over the years – but now the time has finally come for her to take center stage! Dazzler embarks on a new world tour, the culmination and celebration of her entire musical career! And along for the ride is her new road crew: Domino, Strong Guy and Multiple Man! But while Dazzler may be ready to focus on her music, her celebrity-mutant status and a violent attack may sideline the entire endeavor before it’s even begun…"

Exceptional X-Men #1

written by Eve L. Ewing, art and main cover by Carmen Carnero

"KATE PRYDE LEADS A TEAM OF ALL-NEW X-MEN!

After the fall of Krakoa, Kate Pryde is trying to get as far away from all things X as she possibly can. She’s just a regular-degular bartender now. Definitely NOT getting ready to head up an ALL-NEW TEAM of wayward young mutants while avoiding the watchful gaze of Emma Frost. Nothing in this title but work, dating and staving off depression. That’s it. No never-before-seen EXCEPTIONAL X-MEN to see here!"

Wolverine #1

written by Saladin Ahmed, art and main cover by Martin Coccolo

"THE LEGEND BEGINS ANEW IN THE ADAMANTIUM-TOUGH NEW ONGOING SERIES!

There’s a killer in the woods – and as WOLVERINE’s attempt at peace is shattered, an OLD ENEMY will re-emerge as a NEW VILLAIN rises who will bring LOGAN to the brink of his berserker rage. But NIGHTCRAWLER knows his old friend is capable of doing what’s right, and before long, Logan will have to unleash his claws, push his healing factor to the limit and demonstrate he’s the best there is at what he does once and for all – nice be damned!

The legendary WOLVERINE ongoing series kicks off anew with the superstar creative team of Saladin Ahmed (DAREDEVIL, MS. MARVEL) and Martín Cóccolo (DEADPOOL, IMMORTAL THOR) beginning their epic journey with Logan!"

Ultimate X-Men #7

art, writing, and main cover by Peach Momoko

"MEET THE MUTANTS’ NEW MENTOR, PSYLOCKE!

• After the climactic finale of issue #6 and the surprise new teammate they found, Mei, Hisako, Nico and the mutants need some guidance!

• Fortunately, the mysterious Kanon is an older student with a surprising amount of expertise…"

Marvel Zombies: Dawn of Decay

written by Thomas Krajewski, art and main cover by Jason Muhr

"Groot feels bad – not only because Rocket’s latest scheme put them firmly in the crosshairs of the Avengers, but also he’s just plain sick! Sap-dripping nose and all. Things go from bad to apocalyptic, however, after an ill-timed sneeze in Captain America’s face has unforeseeable consequences! Suddenly, Groot is being attacked by a horde of zombified Avengers, and only he and Hulk, with his impenetrable green skin, remain impervious. Now it’s up to these two heroes to team up and fight their way through a blighted New York City to Banner’s lab in Avengers Tower to find a cure before it’s too late. But can Groot keep the hero in check and on track, or will Hulk unleash his deadly might on the zombies they once called friends?"

[littlequeenies]

Carmen Jane Plant

Carmen Jane Plant is the daughter of Maureen and Robert Plant. She works as a professional dancer and teaches belly-dancing and ethnic dancing. She produced the 2018 show ‘The Serpent Slayer’.

Early Years and Family

[Robert, Maureen, and little Carmen at the family's farmhouse near Kidderminster, Worcestershire, 1970]

Carmen Jane Plant is the eldest children and the only daughter of Led Zeppelin's frontman Robert Plant and his wife Maureen née Wilson. She was born on 21st October 1968 in Birmingham, England and has two younger brothers, Karac Pendra Plant and Logan Romero Plant. She has a younger half brother from her father's side, Jesse Lee Plant aka Jordan Plant.

Carmen is of Indian descent from her mother's side and of Romani descent from her father's. The 1972 Led Zeppelin song, “The Ocean,” actually references Carmen in one of the lyrics: "‘I’m singin’ all my songs to the girl who won my heart/She’s only three years old but it’s a real fine way to start".

[Robert with his children Karac and Carmen at their farm, filmed in 1973 and seen in Led Zeppelin film's "The Song Remains the Same", released on 1976.]

During the 1970s, she attended the Elmfield Rudolf Steiner School in Stourbridge, West Midlands.

On October 2007 Robert admitted he regrets staying on tour throughout the 1970’s because he feels his daughter grew up without knowing who he was. Robert claimed she once mistook him for a burglar after he came home from a particularly long tour: "What I recall for the first two years is my daughter not really knowing who I was and getting rather agitated when I came back off tour, as she thought I’d come to rob the house."

In an interview for the People magazine (December 20 1976) Robert explains: "Carmen used to think she had two fathers—the one whose singing she heard through the speakers and the one on whose knee she was sitting. They [Carmen and Karac] love it when I come back to tell them tales."

Car accident and Karac's death

[The Plants with Scarlet Page (C) in 1976]

Carmen was also a passenger in Robert and Maureen Plant's car involved in a road accident on the Greek island of Rhodes on 4 August 1975. Maureen was driving a hired Austin Mini with her husband and their children plus Scarlet Page. The Plant family were seriously injured when the car skidded off the road and collided with a tree but Scarlet Page was unhurt. In the back-seat, Carmen suffered a broken wrist, cuts and bruises. Scarlet's mum Charlotte Martin and Maureen's sister Shirley Wilson, who were following in the car behind managed to get medical help.

In 1977, Carmen also became ill with the same stomach enteritis which took the life of her younger brother Karac Plant, aged only 6.

Personal Life

[Carmen and Robert in 1988]

On 21 November 1989, Led Zeppelin reformed with Jason Bonham on drums, for Carmen's 21st birthday party at Hen & Chickens public house in Oldbury, West Midlands. They performed 'Trampled Under Foot', 'Misty Mountain Hop', and 'Rock and Roll', with Chris Blackwell and Phil Johnstone in support. The Nashville Teens and Jimmy Page's daughter Scarlet Page, were also in attendance.

[Carmen with Charlie Jones]

Carmen Plant got married to Jimmy Page and Robert Plant's bass player Stephen Charles "Charlie" Jones (born 13 Oct 1965), at St. Peter's Church, on 18 May 1991. Their wedding reception was held in a series of marquees at Robert's farm at Kidderminster. Roy Harper's song 'Evening Star' was written for Carmen for the occasion.

Carmen and Charlie Jones have three children, their eldest a daughter named Sunny Plant-Jones (born 1993). The family lives in Bath, Somerset.

Professional Career and Recent Years

Carmen Plant Jones works as a professional dancer and teaches belly-dancing and ethnic dancing. She was tutored in belly-dancing by Serena Ramzy, wife of Hossam Ramzy who performed in Page and Plant's "No Quarter Middle Eastern orchestra". Carmen Plant has appeared at the Rivermead Womad Music Festival, Glastonbury Festival, and with the Babylon Arabic Ensemble.Carmen continues to carry on the family’s musical legacy through Middle Eastern-inspired performing arts. In a 2018 article about her dance production ‘The Serpent Slayer’, Carmen Jane Plant acknowledges her fortunate upbringing: “I come from a musical family, obviously through my dad, my husband, and my children as well. Thanks to my dad, I grew up listening to an alternative and eclectic range from a young age and that really provided the inspiration for me to get involved with all kinds of music. It’s all that I’ve known really, so it’s great that I can put this all in to practice.”

*CHECK OUR CARMEN PLANT PHOTO ALBUM HOSTED AT GOOGLE PHOTOS*

[manygeese]

mega projecting rn, this is

PERCY JACKSON CHARACTERS AS SONGS FROM MY PLAYLIST

aka what I think they would do for karaoke, what’s they like, and what song is them coded

PERCY

What he’d do karaoke to: Beyond the Sea by Bobby Darin. Son of Poseidon thinks water songs are funny.

What song he’d like the most: either Angry Young Man or Allentown, both by Billy Joel. Hard hitting lyrics and instrumentals to match.

What song he has the vibes of: Kodachrome by Paul Simon. Silly, jaunty, but kind of soothing at the same time. Reminds you of your childhood, almost.

ANNABETH

What she’d do karaoke to: Stand by Me by Ben E. King. She’s a romantic lady, what can I say? She’d totally be winking at Percy when she sings the chorus.

What song she’d like the most: Arthur’s Theme (Best That You Can Do) by Christopher Cross. She has classical vibes and this is the closest thing to classical as I have on my playlist. Also, I feel like she’d love jazz and this is jazz-adjacent.

What song she has the vibes of: She’s Always A Woman by Billy Joel. Sentimental, cool, but still oozing with emotion.

JASON

What he’d do karaoke to: Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler. Boy puts on a performance.

What song he’d like the most: My Way by Frank Sinatra. He feels good about himself and all the stuff he’s been through while listening to it.

What song he has the vibes of: Out of Touch by Daryl Hall & John Oates. Edgy, cool, and a bop.

PIPER

What she’d do karaoke to: Lovefool by The Cardigans. Daughter of Aphrodite thinks love songs are funny. She’s a really good singer though, so she can choose any song and still knock everybody’s socks off.

What song she’d like the most: Yesterday by the Beatles. I think she’d like sad songs (not breakup songs, more like “wallowing in self pity, wondering what happened to us” songs).

What song she has the vibes of: Thank You For the Music by ABBA. Self worth problems, putting all your value in one ability? Piper coded.

LEO

What he’d do karaoke to: Let’s Hear It for the Boy by Deniece Williams or Thank God I’m A Country Boy by John Denver. The first because he’s some sort of LGBT+ and thinks it’s funny, the second because he’s Texan and thinks it’s funny. Also Fernando by ABBA.

What song he’d like the most: Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go by Wham! He identifies with it. Also he loves the dorky Just Dance for it.

What song he has the vibes of: Telephone Line by Electric Light Orchestra. Hopeless romantic vibes right there.

HAZEL

What she’d do karaoke to: Fly Me to the Moon by Frank Sinatra. She’d eat any jazz song up, really, but this one’s got her name written all over it.

What song she’d like the most: Bad, Bad Leroy Brown by Jim Croce. It’s got that school house rock vibe that you know she’d love. And also, bar fights! Yay!

What song she has the vibes of: Put Your Records On by Corinne Bailey Rae. Happy, sends a message, gives off sunny day and Hazel vibes.

FRANK

What he’d do karaoke to: Delilah by Tom Jones. He’s belting this shit in the shower at 3 AM.

What song he’d like the most: Oh, What A Beautiful Morning by Gordon Macrae from the musical Oklahoma. He’s embarrassed to admit it, but this boy loves old Roger’s and Hammerstein musicals (The Music Man, Carousel, etc.) that go on for too long and have unnecessary songs. He thinks they’re pretty.

What song he has the vibes of: Everybody Loves Somebody by Dean Martin. Gentle giant vibes.

NICO

What he’d do karaoke to: So Long, Mom (A Song for World War III) by Tom Lehrer. He’s a sucker for old satirical songs and loves watching his friends react as he sings them.

What song he’d like the most: The Vatican Rag by Tom Lehrer. Again, because he likes satirical songs. He cried laughing the first time he heard it, having grown up in the Catholic Church (of Italy, no less).

What song he has the vibes of: Carry on Wayward Son by Kansas. Stark contrast from the earlier songs but it’s just… so Nico coded. The type of stuff you can head bang but also perform ballet to.

REYNA

What she’d do karaoke to: We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel. She memorized the whole thing and likes flexing on everybody else about it because they don’t have the guts nor the dedication.

What song she’d like the most: Fame by Irene Cara. She unwinds to this in her room after a long day. She also totally does embarrassing dances to it.

What song she has the vibes of: Leningrad by Billy Joel. A song about war, seemingly endless cycles of violence, but small victories and reconciliation.

[loremori]

Martin Freeman (266/366)

🎬|Ode to Joy (2019) Directed Jason Winer Written Max Werner | Chris Higgins

MF & Jake Lacy behind the scenes.

[mysterycitrus]

actually why do you think that modern batman comics writers are so bad at compelling 6-8 issue comic arcs? (obvi TT's current nw run is just robbed of any conflict that isn't straight up good guy vs bad guy and is didactic as hell to boot but i haven't really felt grabbed by anything bat-related dc has put out in the last three years). is it an unwillingness to really shake anything up?

a general lack of engaging storytelling is an endemic problem at dc that i think can be partially attributed to a bunch of bad editorial decisions — green arrow for example was only greenlit as a series because williamson was determined to write it amid all his other projects. the pacing and character work suffers as a result. it’s suuuper slow to try and read

taylor is an interesting example though because he’s a terminally online liberal gen xer who seems to write comics like he wants panels to go viral on twitter. there’s no stakes because he’s too centrist to actually put an opinion on paper that might trigger some internal reflection. he tried to call out chuck dixons violent homophobia but thanked him in the same tweet. it’s bad. he should not be in charge of a character like nightwing who’s historically had issues with authority and like….. is defined by his passion. there is a total absence of nuanced interpersonal conflict because like fanon, everyone in comics seems too afraid to have characters be actually wrong about something.

when we read sincerely interesting comics — especially main events like knightfall or murder + fugitive or no man’s land or even utrh — those comics remain interesting because the writers had a perspective and a story to tell. some of those perspectives are bad, mind, but at least there was something there. now, all these writers are online and getting both blind adoration and violent hatred which i think makes them too self conscious to legitimately try. i don’t think it’s a coincidence that the most engaging writing jason todd’s had since 2005 was written by gretchen felker martin in the furry comic, aka someone who has actual things to say.

[alatismeni-theitsa]

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/207003992-she-speaks (in case the link isn't working the book is: She Speaks by Honor Cargill-Martin)

What's your opinion on this? I haven't read it yet but it seems it uses the Roman version of Medusa instead of the Greek one which is enough of an ick. Honestly it looks like it's gonna be one of those books that makes every single male character from the myth a terrible person and spins the story to make it "feminist" while ignoring the cultural/religious context which it was written with.

Oh, I don't feel too positive about this. The book looks cute but the Western classicist Honor Cargill-Martin is "flipping" the myths and the message here is "the Greek myths are not good enough on their own and they don't give space to women" which is bullshit. Way to shit on a culture you supposedly love, Martin. Another classicist who parrots what their university professors say and doesn't understand Greek culture.

The book looks cute but the fact that they are selling inaccuracies to children of such young age makes me feel weird. And, sure, there is the absurd thing of using a non-Greek story in a book of "Greek myths" as they say on the cover, but there are more things.

There is some sort of indoctrination happening here, when the kids learn our myths in a very twisted manner. I don't know how else to call it when someone who supposedly knows the truth chooses to twist it so they can sell a book to "young feminists".

Let's take a look at the stories included:

PANDORA’S The first woman on Earth who opened a box—and gave the world hope ==> Ehm, sure...? Nobody except Evangelicals seems to accuse Pandora nowadays. She was curious, she was one of the first humans. Nobody treats her like Evangelicals treat Eve, I promise. You are not saving any female figure here, Martin.

MEDUSA’S Not a monster, but a “monstered” woman accepting herself ===> Because what we need is a lesson in acceptance from a monster who is killing people on the daily and is used to scare the enemy. That's what girlbossing is about, right? All it matters is that you accept yourself despite erasing the local population. Go off, queen!

MEDEA’S The astute sorceress’s quest for the Golden Fleece ===> Such a cute role-model for girls she who slaughters and dismembers a man to stall his father, and then tricked daughters to cut and boil their own father, and then burned alive his Jason's new mistress. Truly girls supporting girls.

ATALANTA’S The strongest women in all of Greece who defied the expectations of her time ===> Okay I can work with that.

ARIADNE’S The Cretan princess who slayed the Minotaur ==> She... she didn't slay him tho??? And it was her own brother too!

HELEN’S The queen of Sparta who reclaims her beauty—and her throne! ===> While the Greek consciousness does not hate or blame Helen too much for the wars men started, we ought to recognize that she did very little and we don't know if her goal was to return. She offers some help to Odysseus if I remember correctly but to say that she wanted to actively reclaim her throne is weird. I don't know if the book takes into account the ancient play Helen, but still... Helen didn't do too much there, either. She is A hero in the story of the Trojan war, not THE hero. You can make extra stories about her if you like but if you present her as very active to kids and then claim that this is accurate, you are spreading misinformation.

PENTHESILEA’S The Amazonian warrior who never left a woman behind on the battlefield ==-> Ok, I can almost give them this one. I say "almost" because Penthesilea is not specifically known as some savior of women. She led the Amazons but we can suppose that she didn't leave them to die - on account of her having basic respect for her co-fighters. Like, I can see her having this type of personality but we don't know that she was like that. She was there to gain favor with Artemis by fighting with the Trojans.

CIRCE’S The mighty sorceress who turned human beings into animals ===> What a feminist icon! Using her power to attack men before they even harm her and then makes Odysseus stay on her island. Truly a role-model on consent!

[why-i-love-comics]

Avengers Forever #14 - 'The Battle for the All and the Always" (2023)

written by Jason Aaron art by Jime Towe, Frank Martin, Chris Sotomayor, & Morry Hollowell

[amplifyme]

Tag Game

I was tagged by @randomfoggytiger. Thanks for thinking about me!

Favourite painter: Oh, this is a tough one. I'm drawn to works from artists like Monet, Botticelli, Andrew Wyeth, Mucha, Van Gogh, Michelangelo. I'm all over the place. I'm not even going to try to list fandom artists. There are too many and I don't want to risk leaving anyone out.

Favourite writer: Again, more than one. Just off the top of my head: Stephen King, Justin Cronin, Chuck Windig, George R.R. Martin, Gillian Flynn. Generally writers who are really good at creating memorable characters who straddle the line dividing good and evil. As George put it so eloquently, stories that explore the human heart in conflict with itself. Bowing out on fanfic writers here, too. There are too many to list.

Favourite band: Now and for the last decade, Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit.

Favourite meal and drink: At this point in my life any food that anyone other than me cooks and sets in front of me. But I do enjoy farm to table that's not too fussy or complicated. Keep it simple and clean and flavorful. Add a glass of semi-dry wine and I'm good to go.

Favourite outfit aesthetic: I don't know that I have one. If I must be pinned down I'll go with boho/hippie. There's nothing I love more than simple blue jeans or leggings with a t-shirt or flowy blouse. But I refuse to wear dresses unless it's a wedding or a funeral. I don't have legs one would want to show off. Genetics gifted me with, as my mom once put it, "peasant legs". Also the 14 inch scar on my left leg from numerous surgeries isn't very aesthetically pleasing. I prefer to keep it covered.

Favourite singer: Another one I can't cull to just one. Jason Isbell, Van Morrison, Bob Seger, Beth Hart, Amos Lee, Ray LaMontagne, John Mayer, Stevie Nicks, Joy Oladakun. That's just a start. Unique voices, I guess.

Favourite item I own: Well, those of us who have pets are often referred to as pet *owners*, right? So I'll go with Levon the Cat, though I'm pretty sure he owns me and not the other way around.

Favourite possession: My carefully curated fandom items. Mostly my collection of BATB fanzines and TXF memorabilia. All of those, as well as the things I've been bequeathed or were given to me by family members/friends who are no longer with us. Knick-knacks, art and pieces of antique furniture from my mom and oldest brother; an unreleased album of songs written and performed by my bestest friend in the world - all of which were written with me serving as muse. Other things that I don't like to think about too much because it's painful. But all of them cherished.

Favourite perfume: Black Opium. It smells like all my favorite scents combined.

Tagging anyone who'd like to play!