#written for the intellects but namely me the intellect who's actually stupid

[redpiperfox]

I love Mera.

She never fails on a video essay of dissecting the obvious and sounding like a poet blessed by the muses while doing it. And she makes me think, which I find harder and harder to find in youtube videos (...or maybe my class of youtube videos has become stale and needs to be revitalized, idk)

This video in particular, did a brilliant job of laying out Itzy’s image as it’s given to us through it’s music videos, and called me out as writer by showing why we see the members in a certain way due to their music video coding. But more than being stunned that the characters I draw from them to write about, it validated and inspired me, and gave me direction for the personas I had created from their coding palette. It felt like a library archive, some secret wisdom I had stumbled on as a fanfic writer... 

Now. I don’t often stand to disagree with Mera. She’s brilliant at what she does, and I am learning from her every time I watch her videos. She’s much wiser and more educated than I, and it feels like an honor to sit at her feet and listen to her speak. 

...but I feel the need to be in defense of Cheshire.

The core of Mera’s video had been member coding. She took the cinematography and laid out how it presented each member-- a brilliance in the way that Itzy’s core of different and unique and self-confidence stemmed from individuality, and tangibly allowing the audience to feel that with each member. From the costuming, to the camera angles; from the sets to the storylines. The status quo can be rejected, and it doesn’t have to look the same; Ryujin the in-your-face, anti-authoritarian punk; Lia the queen bee, glittering high class in playfulness; Yeji and her feline maturity, aloof and unaffected; Chaeryeong with introverted confidence, girl-next-door, the quiet but no less strong (I... might’ve gotten emotional during this section); Yuna the teenage hero, pop-star-by-night, bubbly, comfortable-in-her-own-skin persona. If I started thinking too hard, I started wondering--

https://twitter.com/redpiper3/status/1610070731932553220?s=20&t=2N_36_XfCJ3X9zGrldQacw

But that’s besides the point.

After Mera properly dissected and laid plain the coding Itzy had debuted with, she laid plain the tracking of this coding through her eras: the debut trilogy cementing their image and personalities as individuals, being vital to their identity as a girl group; the costume era struggling at first and at the tail end, but experimenting with it in new lights, and finding a brilliant visual playground in MITM; and then the shortcomings of the newest era, which floundered in Sneakers, done right in Boys Like You, and seems to break coding in Cheshire, allowing them to seemingly evolve as a group, and take a new direction.

Now, I will not say Sneakers was anything short of a Mess. I remember being glamoured by the costuming and ideas for sets, and then watching on twitter as everyone tried to pin down what exactly JYPe was doing-- a historical concept? Tracking strong independence through the ages and... ending on a sneakers commerical? Was this a branding deal gone bad that they had to rescue?

It feels, after seeing the Cheshire album come out, that something unexpected happened after the ten months of preparation. Their japanese titles were nothing short of brilliant (chef’s kiss at Voltage and Blahx3) but the Checkmate and Cheshire albums were... haphazardly done in planning. I have my suspicions about them feeling like they were supposed to be a full album together... Sneakers would have been a brilliant promoted b-side next to Cheshire: a bright summer song for the group while still maintaining their growth and maturation with Cheshire. Further, their promotional styling being similar before the album release... is suspicious. I have a sneaking suspicion that making Mama 2022 their comeback stage, and having a single release of Boys Like You that played in a different genre and soundscape probably influenced the Checkmate release to be what it was. They needed something before they went on tour, and the Checkmate album-- minus a few gold tracks-- gave them plenty to work with, and prepped the audience enough for Boys Like You. Mera compares Boys Like You to Blackpink’s release of Ice Cream, for trying a different color and taste with the freedom of a western release, and it’s almost for that reason I think the company might have pre-emptively struck with Sneakers-- I’m not into Blackpink and their fanbase, but I think I remember the general reaction of the public being confusion and rejection of Ice Cream due to the strong ongoing themes the group had. And if Sneakers is nothing else, it’s a play with the public. 

Now, I am also going to assume that budgeting works like this-- Sneakers had expensive and shiny sets, and Mama pulled certain budgeting, and between time and money between a world tour and preparing for year end stages, the filming of Cheshire was just between a rock and a hard place. I... am probably wrong, but that’s the kindest assumption I can give to the company :)

So with all that in mind-- Cheshire.

Mera noted in her video that Cheshire leaned more into the flashy editing and the concept of “true or fake?” and group styling similarities more than their general member specific coding and the usual showing, not telling, of individuality. She thought the group is maturing, evolving, and doing away with their original debut codes to do it, seemingly meshing with the rest of 4th gen girl groups, but still standing out because they’re Itzy, and everyone knows them, and they’re on top of the generation anyway-- all of which I can agree with.

Something could be said about the company sending out feelers whenever they feel their girl groups are getting stagnant in concepts and want to try and mature them... something could be said. We won’t say it here.

I might have been a little too much in love with Cheshire. This is my sin-- the vocal maturity and the subtlties of it, the playing into each members’ vocal strengths, it all just makes me very happy and excited for the group as a whole and where they’re headed. 

And I can’t stop listening to the song. And watching the video-- first time through I felt... underwhelmed? And not I catch something new everytime I watch it, it truly a testament to subtlety and blink-and-you’ll-miss it messaging. The members don’t seem to own any place of their own, interrupting each others’ sequences and shots, until you watch through and follow each thread.

But when it comes to member specific coding, Cheshire seems to take what we know and play deep into it’s roots, and seemingly turn everything on it’s head as it projects us into the future of this group as it matures. Let’s go member by member, and each “cheshire cat” as they present themselves:

In our game show of discerning lies from reality, Lia has her little corner of comfort, like the princess she is. She’s playing with practical illusions, things that can only be see properly from the correct angle, and she’s playing with facial expressions that make it hard to pin down what her intentions are or how she’s looking at us. There’s something cynical and mean about her from her first scene... darts fall into her set and we’re brought to Yeji’s set.

Later, a piano drops and shatters in the middle of her set (another non-CGI effect) where she tells us she’ll give us a hint and she’s interrupted by MC Yuna, who’s telling us to watch closely. 

We move past the game show into the world of the cheshires-- Lia’s is surpringly calm next to some of the other members, giving a disinterested vibe through a computer shot. 

But the important scenes are the ones we end on, where we revisit the members in their initial solo sets, and Lia is lying on the couch, everything a mess around her, and we dive into her mind through her ear. There’s rubble falling on top-- this is right before the piano had dropped. It seems like it’s going to drop right on top of her!... except we know from the earlier scene-- she isn’t there. Her final set shot is the piano destroyed at her feet, and her looking up from where we’ve been watching.

It’s just a trick. Lia’s played with us. 

Yeji has one of the more key roles in the plot of the music video, and unlike loco, they aren’t using the grand sets and obvious styling to scream CAT! CAT GIRL! CAT WOMAN! in our faces. 

They use the more subtle web-plucking.

She’s introduced top down on Lia’s set, and she’s throwing darts at a dart board, in a cute little set-up that spells out YOU. She’s hard to pin down, and she’s playing with the audience the entire time. She steps into the middle of Yuna’s curtains pulled back to peek into Chaeryeong’s scene, she’s popping on all sides of the frame in the office scene, and she’s the one who pulls the plug of this operation when the illusion goes way over our heads. You could even say she’s the top down shots looking at Lia-- maybe she dropped the piano herself.

Yeji’s running this operation. 

Out of all the girls, she’s the one who’s directly looking into the character, directly taunting the viewer, deciding when they’ve gone too far into the illusion, when they haven’t looked close enough at one of the girls’ sets, and takes the final bow when all the trickery is finished. She’s in front of the target, twiddling the dart like she could do this all night. She’s the final playful shot before the cat tail teases us, and she’s pulling all the strings.

Ryujin’s speeding down the freeway in her truck, and nothing’s going to stop her.

...except she isn’t.

She’s the first one to tell us it’s not real, her car parked, stand-still in front of the set, as she rolls the windows up on us. Windows, it can be noted, that are covered in stickers. This car isn’t meant for driving at all, but Ryujin doesn’t care.

Ryujin is the cat that spoils the ending, the first to make us question everything. She’s the second computer screen, who deletes the background and shows us what’s fake and what isn’t in their MC group dance shot-- and it isn’t much! Only the question marks and arrows, that had been CGI-ed to confuse us on what was up and down, had been untrue. Everything else on set had been...

Then we get to her cheshire in the snow, and she’s not playing. She’s got an icy playfulness that’s asking “why so serious?” before Yeji pulls the plugs, and then she’s the one right in the middle of the gameshow, spinning the wheel and making us question every one of the initial solo sets. She knows, and she knows we don’t know. Her final shot is her sitting on top of her car, twirling her hair and smirking at us for trying so hard.

She’s taunting us. And she knows we’ll let her get away with it.

Yuna’s the hardest cheshire to pin down-- because she shows us her tricks right from the beginning.

She’s the one running the lights, switching us between the game show and the CGI transition to the cheshire snow world. She’s in front of the curtains, and we don’t know what her deal is, except for one unavoidable fact-- she’s moody. She’s either introducing the game show, or morose and haunting. We don’t know whether to be excited or scared at what’s about to happen, we don’t know whether being fooled should terrify us or enchant us. 

And Yuna wants us to remain in that uncomfortable place of not knowing. 

In her cheshire scene, she’s still playing with lights and shadows, and dancing like a teasing cat. It’s a little scary, but she tells us in this way “someone might find their path.” 

When everyone is playing their final trick, she doesn’t offer us a smile, only throws her arm up to present the acts before stalking off and letting us figure it out for ourselves. There are no light switches, nothing to hide or seek, just what’s before our eyes that we still won’t be able to understand. 

In her final scene, she laughs at us, but she’s not our friend. She’s almost looking down on us.

We’re not friends.

Chaeryeong probably lays it out as obviously as possible in her solo set.

She gets her own room, and not happy: she’s crying, doesn’t want to talk to us, and wants to lie in bed all day. Moving outwards, two members immediately clue us in to know that this isn’t true-- Yeji stands by the curtains pulled back, to show it’s only a set, and Yuna wears identical fake tears to Chaeryeong’s, only to pull them off and show that they’re fake. Chaeryeong even gives us a smile while she wears the fake tears.

Chaeryeong isn’t upset, we’ve just been manipulated into thinking she is. 

As a cheshire, she’s the one who makes us see “true” and “fake” for what it is. She shows a cheery doll can really be something plain and ordinary we’ve been made to believe is something of comfort, and playing catch can seem like a bomb thrown in our face.

Exaggeration and lies. 

She throws her bedsheet up to show she wasn’t even in the room in the first place-- the editing leaving her shadow walking out from behind the falling sheet to let the illusion properly register for us.

In her final scene, she’s having fun jumping on the bed and making a mess of the feathers and pillows, no tears on her face. 

She was actually having fun with it all. On her own.

Now what does this all have to do with anything? I haven’t proven or disproven anything, I’ve just spelled out what we’ve seen. Let’s draw some parallels--

Lia: preppy and pretty and playful-- check, check, and check. 

Yeji: in command and unaffected and mature -- check and check, and I’ll concede the maturity is a little muddled, but we’ll revisit that in a moment.

Ryujin: anti-authoritarian and punk -- well, you try driving anywhere with stickers all over your window. Or taking over a game show by driving your car right into the middle of it.

Chaeryeong: quiet, introverted but with an inner strength and self-confidence -- check, she certainly wasn’t trying to prove anything to us.

Yuna: teenage hero and bubbly and perfectly made for what she’s doing -- I don’t know if you’ve met a teenager, but they’re angsty as hell.

But she’s not quite the dalla dalla Yuna is she? In fact, scrolling back up, none of these are quite the coding of the girls we debuted with in the debut triology are they?

Now, here is where cinematographic coding and members’ personalities and company advertising could all blur, so I’ll only say this before we stay in the cinematography: I’d like to think JYP gives their groups as much freedom as Stray Kids gets, but you never know. But in a perfect world, Itzy played a hand in their own concept building, and their own very real individualities bled through to build their concept. But if it did or not, Dalla Dalla gave them sets and outfits, fit with colors... and then let them build the scene. The attitudes they brought, the way they commanded presence and attention? Music video building after that worked with the energy they brought to the screen. The confidence, the character, the individuality itself. And the girls have grown a lot in the industry and as individuals since then. These aren’t hot rookies with headlining reputations and everything to prove. These are women who’ve established themselves and been burned in their industry a couple of times.

Subtle maturity is a beautiful thing. 

Yuna is still perfectly made for what she’s doing-- only it isn’t showing all of her bubbliness to you. (Side tangent: stop chasing my girl for every little thing she does. She can say “bless me” and cover Love Dive without being put up against impossible standards, alright?) Being in the industry is playing your character close to your chest, and Yuna is made to be an idol. She’s no longer a teenager, but she’s every young girl you know, and she’s impossible to be, and someone only to look up to with awe. 

Ryujin is still the punk who sticks it in everyone’s faces, but now she’s got a driver’s license. She’s not playing your game, she’s making her own. 

Yeji is still mama cat, she’s still cruella, and she’s still the icon of maturity, targeted for the older age group. But she doesn’t need to prove it anymore-- she’s the oldest who’s taking care of everyone, running the show, and she can have fun while she does it. 

Chaeryeong is the girl-next-door, quietly confident in herself, and throwing the stereotype of what we think introverts are so much in our face, it’s almost as though she knows what we think, and has the confidence to rewrite that trope for everyone. (And I love her for it. Mera’s chapter on her in her video made me so emotional, we need to open the conversation about individuality and confidence and strength in the quieter people, and stop trampling over girls who don’t present the way we expect when we see powerful women.)

And Lia is still our princess. She’s got a more mischievious side that’s flaring more now than it did in Icy, but it’s there nonetheless.

The coding isn’t just in the styling, it’s in the subtleties of the members.

And it’s not the same as debut era, it’s growing.

Mera has another video I adore, where she praises Twice and their femininity. Twice as a group matures and their music evolves and tries to find where to go, but the feminine beauty of it remains the same at it’s core.

I think the same could be said of Itzy. Individuality was something they had to scream when they debuted, but now that they’ve told us who they are, and they settle into who they know they are, they show us the nuances and subtle beauties of individuality. 

Individuality doesn’t pretend to be anything for anyone, it doesn’t have to play all it’s cards on the table and show who it really is, it’s full of joy in it’s maturity, and while it can be fully rebellious in it’s own rights, it can also be full of life from the comforts of home, where knowing who you are and being strong in that is enough.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

I DONT LIKE ANYONE EXCEPT SOMETIMES YOU

shinso x reader

thoughts about how shinso would act in a relationship. same premise as the kirishima ver.

inspired by backburner

hitoshi shinso, who’s facetimes with you always run late into the night. you ramble on about your day while he hums in response, knowing that you know he’s not the talkative type. he never asks “how was your day?” he always says “tell me about your day.” because he really, truly wants to hear about your day. you could have cured a disease or simply just gotten out of bed, and he’d still want to hear every single detail simply because its from you.

hitoshi shinso, who loves to cook. only you're aware of it, because he doesn't always like sharing personal details with others, but you never complained- it just means more for you. you're always the first person that gets to try his food, though he claims you're not a very good critic. but you can't help it, everything he makes tastes so good. and with every compliment you shower him in, he'll hit you with a 'yeah, yeah, whatever.' and then next moment, make you more so you can always stay fed during long days at UA and long hours during hero-training. its his silent way of telling you he loves you.

hitoshi shinso, whose cats love you more than they love him. he has three triplets, a black british short hair, a siamese, and a grey ragdoll- pepper, lexi, and mustache- he absolutely hates the last name, but he had just adopted the kitten and you named it for its white streak right below its nose. he'll deny it forever, but he gets pouty and huffs in annoyance whenever he sees the cats run to you, even after he's fed and taken care of them for all of their lives. but he also cant deny the way his heart skips a beat whenever he seems them cuddled up with you on his bed, wearing one of his big t-shirts. it softens his heart in a way that nothing else does- your love fills his heart more strongly and more passionately than anything does.

hitoshi shinso, who is the closed-off, funny but quiet dickhead of his friend group. he's known for his out-of-pocket roasts at the right times and his nonchalant nature that contrasts with the loud, spunkiness of his multicolored-haired friends. but with you, he softens. the few times he's brought you along with him to movie night or training sessions, you've softened his heart enough for the love in him to seep out towards others as well. whenever you crack a joke, make someone else at the table smile, and draw laughs and happiness from their chests, a blush blooms across his cheeks. obviously, he fell for you, how could he not?

hitoshi shinso, who's favorite activity with you is your sunday-ritual. you'll wake up together, either in the same bed or over the phone, and bike down to the coast. you'll bug him about wearing a helmet, but he always complains that it ruins your hair. he'd never admit that its because he thinks you're absolutely adorable when you dote on him. afterwards he'll share a smoothie with you- he hates all the flavors except for mixed berry, which is the one he always insists on getting. he hates the the overpricing for what the product actually is, but loves the smile it puts on your face after a tiring bike-ride. and afterwards, you two will go back to either his of your place. his place if your parents aren't home, and his place when his parents are home, and binge watch a long t.v show of your choosing. he'll always complain that its stupid, poorly written or drawn out, but get pouty whenever you watch an episode without him. it's the one thing he looks forwards to at the end of a long week, drawn out with endless studies, training, and burnout. you're his safe place, and he needs it more than he'll admit.

hitoshi shinso, who somehow remembers every tiny detail about you. his mind works like gears, arranging formulas and deciphering codes, but the intellect of his mind makes you its priority. he remembers the way you pick your nails and cuticles when you have anxiety, and how placing his warm palm over yours soothes some of those thoughts. he remembers how prefer to tie your hair back during training but how you somehow always forget a hair tie- and he knows how you always give him a peck on his cheek once he shows off the one he's been keeping on his wrist for you. he remembers how you can't sleep without your nightly calls, and how he needs to hear your voice before he drifts of too- maybe more than you need it. he remembers the first day you met, the first thing he said to you, the first time he ever felt love for you. he remembers all of it and keeps it embedded in his heart. hitoshi shinso may seem like he hates everyone, but the one exception to that is you. and he'll remember that forever.

[lonesome-witching]

Secret Admirer

This is a storyline I have explored before a while back but I was delighted to do it again and slightly different, so thank you for the prompt @ronance4life42. I hope you guys like this one. If you want a similar work you can check out Be My Valentine all the way back from June.

You can read my previous prompts or send me some new ones.

Dear Nancy,

I’m not sure where to start. It appears I never know where to start, and especially not with you. It’s stupid really, how easily I care about your judgement. You see, I want you to like me, I really do. And well, I don’t think you do. It is not something I blame you for. I wouldn’t like me either. I don’t like me actually. But yet, I want you to like me.

I want you to like me because I like you. It is the most logical reason. And perhaps also the silliest. Because it seems impossible that you could ever like me. Or at least that you could ever like me in the way I like you.

Maybe that is the point of this silly letter. Maybe the point is that I like you too much. That I see you across the hallway and I’ll want to approach. That I hear your voice and can’t refrain myself from smiling.

It is not your beauty that enchants me, although it most definitely does, but it is your intellect, your passion, your drive. Perhaps it is everything about you, everything that makes you you.

It is silly, I suppose, that I’m willing to write poetry about a girl that doesn’t even like me. But Nancy, you are the type of girl that people write poetry about. It is while looking at you that I realize what overcomes the poets and artists in this world. Because suddenly I want to write, and I want to paint and draw and sculpt. I want to become a photographer and keep a portfolio of only you. And while others admire your beauty, I will think back to the person behind it.

Perhaps that would be enough. Although I doubt it. Because even more than that, I want you to like me. And that is even so much sillier.

Nancy turned the page in her hand. It had dropped out of her locker the second she had pulled it open. There was no name on the bottom of the page, not on the back either. No signature, no locker number, no indication of who it was from. Nothing. It just stopped at the end of that last sentence. Almost as if the writer had wanted to continue.

She sighed, folded the paper and placed it in one of textbooks. She hoped to forget it by the time first period started. She knew she wouldn’t. How could she forget such a letter? She needed to know who had written it.

Robin was already sitting in her usual seat when Nancy entered the classroom. Simply tapping her pencil on her desk and staring out the window. For a moment she did forget about the letter. It was the moment Robin looked up at her.

But the letter returned to her mind when she sat down next to her friend.

“Nancy, hi. Good morning!” Robin greeted, sitting up straighter.

“Good morning, Robin.” She was hesitating. Unsure of whether she should tell Robin about the letter. It felt nice that it was just for her. It felt nice to keep it a secret. “Robin?”

“Yeah?”

“I need your help with something. I got this letter and I need to know who it’s from.” Nancy carefully placed the letter on Robin’s desk. She wanted to pull it back, regretted handing it over already.

“Oh?” Robin slowly unfolded the letter.

“Can you help me?”

-

Dear Nancy,

Yesterday I sat in the school library and when I looked up from my copy of Dante’s Inferno, or well the school’s copy, you were there. You were sighing as you skimmed through books and I was reminded of wanting to paint you. Those are the moments I want to keep forever. The ones that aren’t mine and yet they are. Everyone could have watched you, but no one did. No one but me. It felt all too intimate, looking at you work.

I’m beginning to worry that I’ll come off as a creep. I promise I’m not a stalker. I just

You are just too extraordinary for me not to pay attention.

“I’m not sure who it could be, Nance. It’s certainly not Steve, that much is clear.” Robin took a bit out of her sandwich. Nancy noticed she did that sometimes. She’d start eating in the middle of a sentence to keep herself from saying to much. Nancy hated that she did that.

“I hadn’t expected it to be Steve.”

“I don’t think it’s Jonathan either.”

Nancy laughed at that. If Jonathan had felt that way about her, the way this secret admirer felt, he could have just said so. He had her in the palms of his hands, and he pushed her away. It wasn’t Jonathan.

“Could it be Tommy Hagan?” Robin asked seriously, before bursting into bright laughter. Nancy joined her. The idea of Tommy Hagan writing anything, especially something like this, was preposterous.

“Are you not taking this serious, Robin?” Nancy asked, still laughing. There was a warm feeling blooming in her chest. It only ever seemed to be there when she was around Robin.

“I’m just considering all the options.”

“Of course.” Nancy looked at the table, Robin’s gaze too bright to take in for too long. It was like staring at the sun.

“Talking about options, what if it’s Keith? He’d pay off someone to drop it in your locker.”

“Robin, stop!” Nancy laughed. She didn’t want Robin to stop. She never wanted Robin to stop doing anything.

-

Dear secret admirer,

It seems to me it is a bit unfair that you are allowed to know my name while I have no idea who you are. I will admit that since I have received your first letter, I have been searching for you. But it would be so much easier if you simply told me your name. Perhaps then I can stare at you the say you stare at me. Maybe then I’ll feel like picking up a pencil or a camera.

It is unfair that you refuse me the opportunity to do so. And yet, I look forward to receiving your letters. Somehow, they make me feel seen, make me feel known and appreciated. Maybe I’m the one being silly now, but I feel like I know you too. I know you without knowing you. It feels weird. You make me feel. That is just it. You, anonymous letter writer, you make me feel. I’m forever grateful for that.

Nancy

Robin’s hands were shaking. How could they not? How could they ever stop? The letter had been hidden in the school’s copy of Dante’s Inferno. Robin should have suspected it. She gave Nancy one detail and the girl jumped on it.

She had to write back. She had to write something back. But her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. And she wasn’t sure what she could possibly write.

-

Dear Nancy,

You are right. It is completely unfair. But I can’t tell you who I am. If you want to know why, I’m afraid it’s an awfully simple answer. I am a coward.

What would you do if you knew my name? I could see it go badly. I do see it go badly, every night when I lay myself down to sleep. People often talk about dreaming about their true love. But when I dream of you it is never pleasant. I don’t like dreaming of you, Nancy. I prefer to watch you while I’m awake. It is only then I can imagine something good. Not that I know for sure what it is that I’m imagining. Maybe I don’t imagine at all. Maybe I just watch.

I’m sorry if this is a disappointment. But maybe not every question needs an answer. Maybe not every mystery needs to be solved. Maybe I can continue to hide in the shadows just this once.

Because I can’t see this ending well for me. And perhaps I should have never written you any letters in the first place. I’m not even sure why I did. I shouldn’t have done it.

“Typical me. I get something good and I need to scare it away.” Nancy fell down in front of Robin, throwing the latest letter on the table.

“Oh, what happened?”

“I wrote back and now they are saying it was a mistake.”

“Have you figured out who it might be? Because I was thinking—"

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Nancy sighed. Maybe it really didn’t matter anymore. She looked at Robin’s fingers gripping the piece of paper.

“Okay,” Robin replied.

“Robin? Can I come over tonight?” Nancy slightly leaned forward.

-

“So, what are we doing tonight?” Robin fell on her bed. She looked much more at ease in her own room than she ever did in Nancy’s.

“Anything. I just wanted to be away from home for a bit. It gets too loud.”

Robin laughed. “It’s not like I can offer peace and quiet. I can never shut up.”

“I don’t want you to.” Nancy sat down on the bed, next to Robin.

“Be careful, Nance, you might start making me blush.”

“I’d love to see it.”

Robin turned away, fully turning into her pillow. Nancy wanted to grab her shoulders and pull her back. She didn’t need a secret admirer when she had Robin. Robin who gave up her free time to research anything and everything whenever Nancy asked. Robin who joined her to the library even when she had already finished her work. Robin who talked too much, Robin who listened.

Robin who was turning back toward her with a smile and a soft blush on her cheeks. Nancy leaned down, closer. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she knew she had to do it. Her lips brushed against Robin’s. Softly. Gently. She pressed slightly harder, truly kissing Robin for the first time. Robin’s body froze under Nancy.

“I’m sorry,” Nancy said when she pulled away.

“No, it’s okay. You’re good. I don’t mind. I liked it. I just— I have to— I’m gonna go to the bathroom for a second. I’ll be right back.” Robin jumped up, running out of the room as soon as possible and nearly tripping over her own feet multiple times.

Nancy groaned. She kept screwing things up. She turned her head toward the nightstand. A piece of paper lay there, lined and filled with words. She wasn’t going to look. Robin was entitled to her privacy. But Nancy saw her own name and she couldn’t resist.

Dear Nancy,

I know I have said that your beauty is not what drew me in, that it is your intellect and your curiosity, but that wasn’t entirely the truth. God, you’re so beautiful, Nancy. So incredibly beautiful. I want to

That’s all it said, stopping in the middle of the sentence. Nancy reread the paragraph. A second time and a third.

“I— I can explain,” Robin said, her voice disturbing Nancy from the many thoughts floating in her head.

“You wrote the letters. Of course, it was you.” She smiled as she closed the distance between them. This time when she kissed Robin, Robin kissed back. This time everything fell into place. Nancy slid her hands into Robin’s hair, holding her close. She never wanted to part from Robin again.

[headfullof-ideas]

I was gonna respond to @httyd-nerd in the reply section of my last Httyd/The Deep post, but it was getting long so I’m just putting it here where I can further elaborate on my frustrations and dilemma.

Part of writing this crossover is figuring out how characters from opposite shows will react and get along with one another. And to the surprise of who knows who else but absolutely not me, Alpheus has been a bit tricky in figuring this out. This might be a tangent on how I view his character, especially in how I write him, but partly to demonstrate how FRUSTRATED he’s making me.

Alpheus is not my favorite character. He’s not my least favorite, not by far. He’s just not my blorbo like I know he is for others. But he is an interesting character to write entirely because of how layered and flawed he is. He’s the epitome of an unreliable narrator, he thinks fairly high of himself and his own abilities, and has a lot of unresolved issues he refuses to resolve because he’s way too paranoid to get help. This makes for interesting relationships with other characters.

Except I’m really struggling with figuring out how he may get along with Dagur. It doesnt’ help that Dagur in this story, specifically the start, is a mix of his later RTTE counterpart, and his early version. He’s still deranged, but he’s enthusiastically optimistic to the point of coming across as insane too, and a bit softer because he grew up with Heather, and started dragon riding WAY earlier than he did in the show. Dagur and Alpheus are a bit similar to me in that they’re both the slightly mentally unbalanced enemy to the main protagonists, who are redeemed later down the line. Unfortunately, to me, I feel that’s where similarities wind up ending. They’ve got different personalities and goals and ways of going about them. They’ve got different backgrounds, and talents. And in some ways I can actually see them clashing. And it’s mostly because of Alpheus’s own flaws, for me at least.

Alpheus is an interesting character, and the few times I’ve written him he’s always been really fun because of how I dive into his psyche and how he perceives things. He’s a dramatic loser who instigates a rivalry with a thirteen year old, naming the thirteen year old his nemesis, and then loses to said thirteen year old hundreds of times. He’s probably wanted for a few felonies because of all the times he’s hacked the WOA and who knows who else, and might not even exist in the name of the law because we don’t know how long he was with the Guardians. This guy might not even have a birth certificate. Alpheus is an interesting character, and I’ve grown to like working with him…thing is he’s got a bit of a stick up his butt in regard to himself. He’s arrogant about his own intelligence, certainly being very intelligent, running his sub and modifying ARIA with little issues from a relatively young age, and evading all authorities for a very long time. But he’s socially stupid because he was raised by the Guardians, and I don’t think he was ever faced with the challenge of learning something from someone smarter than him, let alone interacting with someone as smart as or smarter than him. I think for the longest time Alpheus was the smartest person in the room, and never had to deal with someone actually challenging his own intellect. This isn’t helped with him not having an idea on how to respectfully talk to other people either.

Connected to that, Alpheus kind of brushes off anyone he doesn’t deem worth his time. His main focus was always finding Lemuria and getting the device (as he never actually learns what it is) to control the Monumentials, and also his somewhat one-sided rivalry with Ant. Ant was the only character I really remember him actually acknowledging. When he first met Fontaine, he just brushed off her attempts at breaking into his sub like she were a tiny, pesky fly, and he never really acknowledged her beyond being a nuisance through the rest of the show. I remember when Kaiko was mad about something (i don’t specifically remember the episode) he just commented ‘Mothers. So emotional.’ Didn’t really acknowledge her. I don’t even really remember any interaction he’s had with Will, which just adds to this. When they’re dealing with the Jellyfish Monumential, he brushes off everything Kaiko says, which can be alluded to spending a few months alone and losing his mind trying to escape, but there were other times he doubted her skills and abilities, specifically her piloting maneuvers when it came to escaping the Jellyfish. Even though, with his stalking tendencies, he had to know she was an accomplished submarine pilot. But he couldn’t do anything to escape, so why should she be able to do anything? Whenever Ant or anyone else opposed what Alpheus said was fact, he always kind of dismissed them, because I think in his mind there was no way they knew better than him. He only ever focused on Ant because he said himself that Ant was worthy of being his nemesis, or something along those lines, i don’t remember the specific words. But to me, he just always brushes off anyone he doesn’t see as worth his time and effort, doesn’t take them as seriously.

Which is where it’s hard for me to figure out his dynamic with Dagur. Dagur is an accomplished warrior, and certainly no idiot. He’s smart in his own right, and proved to be a real problem for Berk and the Riders many times. He was no Hiccup in regard to intelligence, but he’s not stupid. He’s got a bit of a temper, an obsession with being obsessed with everything he does, and doesn’t really give up ever. Man hounded Hiccup for four years to be his brother until Hiccup finally accepted the adoption. But he’s got Deranged in his name, and I just can’t help but think that Alpheus might not think too highly of him. Dagur’s plans are a lot more thought on the fly while following a loose rubric he came up with five minutes before hand, with a lot more brute strength, whereas Alpheus plans with his head and ahead of time. I just can’t help but think that Alpheus wouldn’t immediately respect Dagur, thinking he’s a crazy lunatic who doesn’t think anything through (which isn’t entirely wrong), and isn’t smart enough to understand anything Alpheus says. I think he’d just dismiss anything Dagur says about anything going on, especially when it comes to planning, which would drive Dagur insane, as he is quick to rise with a temper sometimes. I see them clashing at first, because Alpheus is still Alpheus and is obsessed with Ant, except by that point Dagur has claimed Ant as his brother, and he was there first(which now that I’m thinking about it, opens up some interesting potential for Alpheus and Viggo interacting. Viggo is essentially an older, more experienced, and grounded Alpheus after all, who also has prior interaction with Ant). I think it would take Dagur coming up with something that forces Alpheus to acknowledge that no, he’s not actually stupid, for things to change, but where they change I don’t know, because Alpheus is filled with pride and an inability to admit he’s wrong, and Dagur is a proud Berserker, in every aspect.

I do see Dagur getting a kick out of messing with Alpheus, which just pisses Alpheus off.

[deerydear]

Idle musings of a sour note:

Tumblr has a strange culture. I've enjoyed a lot of stories in my time... Yet, to come onto tumblr and find other people discussing them.... disgusting them...

"Other people", of course. I could play some grim, ugly refrain, giving names to this-and-that...

"I name you... ugly-monkey-butt! ......and I name you.... Poopoo Papa!"

lol.

So, "fandoms" (fan-kingdoms) can build around a story. They may develop their own "fanon" (fan-canon; i.e. things that do not actually happen in the story, but which are memetically-propagated within the culture of the fandom.)

So how do these fandoms propagate?

I feel that a big 'factor' is in people who have not actually read the Original story... or perhaps they "found out about the story through the influence of fandom", and so they may have been primed by the fanonical lense applied to it -- to already react to the events in the story a certain way.

This is why I cherish those stories that I read in the times before I founded a blog. I didn't 'instantly-react', I didn't update my blog to say: "HOLY SHIT GUYS! THIS IS CRAZY!"

It was me with my nose in the book, immersed in an intercourse with the characters of the story.

Now, are there interesting stories inspired by other stories? Yes, of course. Many authors have been inspired by art.

There is a difference in ecosystem between a "fan-collective", and a singular fan, and a small group of friends who discuss something together.

I get a very 'oppressive sense' from tumblr, and I always have, since I discovered it. Yet, there is also boundless creativity to be found on the world wide web... so what will I do?

i feel a good balance of nice energy & rude energy cioming through the monitor at me, and i think i will stay online for about 3 more hours. --- wint@dril

fucking lab rats drinking morphine-laced water when they're kept alone, and preferring normal water when they're socially-engaged. (both sets of rats have a choice of drink)

....but can't anything have a 'fanonical lense', so to speak?

Such as... trying to interpret the results of a scientific experiment. Just like what I just said... the way I phrased it. How I related it to my own set of experiences... that's all... so...

human.

I think I have a deep antipathy for ....something. I thought "the human race", but then I recoiled from that. Its more about the 'cultures' of people. Sick, empty, impoverished of meaning. Is this all a result of "the greater system at work"? Don't people have a choice in where their own lives go?

Yes, well, at the same time.... the product ends up very ugly if you try to force people to change.

Even if they acqueisce, agree, follow you enthusiastically... it just is not natural. Believe me, I've tried. I learned my lesson. Even myself: I guillessly followed a few self-assured idiots, and only through realizing that my "new output" had become irredeemably ugly, did I ever put it down. Who cares about heartless, intellectual arguments, in the face of beauty? Beauty is intellect that becomes integrated into the sense world. It's deeper... Simplicity.

In the theoretical realm, I sound really mean. -- like I'm just 'berating fans for no reason'. but if I showed an example.... hm, well what inspired me to write this?

continue reading...

A few people have written offshoot stories where the child B had loved the child A, and mourned their death. This became a popular 'fanon': that idea of a motive for revenge against L.

....but, I find that so.... saccharine.... cloying. Stupid. Perhaps that feeling stems from my own detachment from social bonds, wherefore I........

Well, actually...

My question is:

"Do you think you can replace Madness?"

As I see it, Grief is an exhaustible motive. Eventually you will get sick, and sick of paring yourself down and down to fit into the box of the "Victim", the "Underdog who is supposed to overtake the Suppressor".

what if you were doing things just to see what happened?

what if life was an experiment?

as yelyahnaloj said today, it's good to think of an experiment as telling a story. it cannot be separate from the context within which it took. At least... not without sacrificing data.

So maybe this child was inspired by what he saw going on around in life.

I think that human relations can be much more complex than simply "love" or "hate", or shades in-between. After all, we have Sadism and Masochism, which seem to light up both centers at once.

...feeling for another person can be "layered". Perhaps the ones "on top", (i.e. conscious) are not Falsities.... Are there rules to human cognition? Who is to say I haven't loved someone who I also hated so, so much. I was glad when he died, even though I love him. I still love him. People are more than paper.

Perhaps "fandom" can seem strangely neutered. After all, a blogger may want to "portray a good face". So-called "social-justice culture" is endemic to this website...

Actually, no, I think it's just a welcoming host. From what I heard, SJWism (and the annoying, cloying attitudes) may have originated (in their recent forms)... on the Something Awful webforums.

I think vanity is ugly.

I relate very much to Czesław Miłosz's profile of Beta:

"When I met Beta in 1942, he was twenty years old. He was a lively boy with black, intelligent eyes. The palms of his hands perspired, and there was that exaggerated shyness in his behavior that usually be­speaks immense ambition. Behind his words one felt a mixture of arrogance and humility. In conversation he seemed inwardly convinced of his own superi­ority; he attacked ferociously yet retreated immedi­ately, bashfully hiding his claws. His ripostes were full of pent-up irony. Probably, though, these char­acteristics were most pronounced when he spoke with me or with other writers older than he. As a beginning poet, he felt he owed them a certain re­spect, but actually he believed they were none too deserving of it. He knew better; in him lay the prom­ise of a truly great writer.

In 1942 in Warsaw, we were living without hope, or rather on a hope we knew to be a delusion. The empire which had absorbed our country was so mighty that only an incorrigible optimist could be­lieve in the possibility of a totally vanquished Ger­many. Nazi plans in regard to our nation were per­fectly clear: to exterminate the educated class, to colonize, and to deport a segment of the population to the East.

Beta was one of the young people who started writing during the War, in the language of slaves. He supported himself by various odd jobs. It is hard to define exactly how people earn a living in a city completely outside the law. Usually they took half-ficti­tious posts in an office or factory that supplied them with a work-card plus the opportunity to operate a black market or to steal, which was not regarded as immoral because it injured the Germans. At the same time, he studied in the underground university and shared the exuberant life of the resistance youth. He went to meetings where he and the other young peo­ple drank vodka, argued heatedly about literature and politics, and read illegal publications.

But he smiled scornfully at his comrades; he saw things more clearly than they. He found their patriotic zeal for battle against the Germans a purely irrational reflex. Battle-yes, but in the name of what? None of these young people believed any longer in democracy. Most of the countries of East­ern Europe had been semi-dictatorships before the War; and the parliamentary system seemed to belong to a dead era. There was no question as to how one came into power; whoever wanted to take over au­thority had only to seize it by force, or else create a "movement" to exert pressure on the government for admittance into a coalition. This was an age of nationalist "movements," and Warsaw youth was still very much under their influence even though, ob­viously, it had no sympathy for either Hitler or Mus­solini. Its reasoning was confused. The Polish nation was oppressed by the Germans; so, one had to fight. When Beta declared that they were merely counter­ing German nationalism with Polish nationalism, his comrades shrugged their shoulders. When he asked what values they wanted to defend or on what prin­ciples Europe was to be built in the future, he got no reply.

Here indeed was a well of darkness: no hope of liberation, and no vision of tomorrow. A battle for battle's sake. A return to the pre-war status quo, bad though it had been, was to be the reward for those who might live to see the victory of the Anglo-Saxons. This lack of any sort of vision led him to see the world as a place in which nothing existed out­side of naked force. It was a world of decline and fall. And the liberals of the older generation, mouth­ing nineteenth-century phrases about respect for man-while all about them hundreds of thousands of people were being massacred-were fossil remains.

Beta had no faith, religious or other, and he had the courage to admit it in his poems. He ran off his first volume of verse on a mimeograph machine. No sooner had I received his book and pried apart its sticky pages than I realized that here was a real poet. The reading of his hexameters was not, how­ever, a joyous undertaking. The streets of occupied Warsaw were gloomy. Underground meetings in cold and smoky rooms, when one listened for the sound of Gestapo boots on the stairs, were like grim rituals conducted in catacombs. We were living at the bot­tom of a huge crater, and the sky far up above was the only element we shared with the other people on the face of the earth. All this was in his verse-gray­ness, fog, gloom, and death. Still his was not a poetry of grievance but of icy stoicism. The poems of this entire generation lacked faith. Their fundamental motif was a call to arms and a vision of death. Unlike young poets of other epochs, they did not see death as a romantic theme but as a real presence. Almost all these young writers of Warsaw died before the end of the War either at the hands of the Gestapo or in battle. None of them, however, questioned the meaning of sacrifice to the same degree as did he. "There will remain after us only scrap-iron and the hollow, jeering laughter of generations," he wrote in one of his verses.

His poetry had in it none of that affirmation of the world that is present in the sympathy with which the artist portrays, for example, an apple or a tree. What his verse disclosed was a profoundly disturbed equilibrium. One can divine a great deal from a work of art, e.g. that the world of Bach or of Breughel was ordered, arranged hierarchically. Modem art reflects the disequilibrium of modem society in that it so often springs from a blind passion vainly seeking to sate itself in form, color, or sound. An artist can contemplate sensual beauty only when he loves all that surrounds him on earth. But if all he feels is loathing at the discrepancy between what he would wish the world to be and what it is in reality, then he is incapable of standing still and beholding. He is ashamed of reflexes of love; he is condemned to perpetual motion, to a restless sketching of discon­tinued, broken observations of nature. Like a sleep­walker, he loses his balance as soon as he stops mov­ing. Beta's poems were whirlpools of fog, saved from complete chaos only by the dry rhythm of his hexameters. This character of his poetry must be attributed at least in part to the fact that he belonged to an ill-fated generation in an ill-fated nation, but he had thousands of brothers in all the countries of Europe, all of them passionate and deceived.

Unlike his comrades who acted out of loyalty to their fatherland, on Christian or vague metaphysical grounds, he needed a rational basis for action. When the Gestapo arrested him in 1943, it was rumored in our city that he was taken as the result of an "acci­dent" to one of the left-wing groups. If life in War­saw was little reminiscent of paradise, then Beta now found himself in the lower circle of hell: the "con­centration universe." In what was then the normal order of events, he spent several months in jail be­fore being shipped off to Auschwitz. Incredibly, he managed to survive there for two years. When the Red Army drew near, he and the other prisoners were transported to Dachau, and there they were eventually set free by the Americans. We learned of all this only after the War, when he published a vol­ume of stories recounting his experiences."

[...]

"I have read many books about concentration camps, but not one of them is as terrifying as his sto­ries because he never moralizes, he relates. A special social hierarchy comes into being in a "concentra­tion universe." At the top stand the camp authorities; after them come prisoners trusted by the administra­tion; next come the prisoners clever enough to find means of getting sufficient food to keep up their strength. At the bottom stand the weak and clumsy, who daily tumble lower as their undernourished or­ganisms fail to bear up under the work. In the end they die, either in the gas chamber or from an in­jection of phenol. Obviously this hierarchy does not include the masses of people killed immediately upon their arrival, i.e. the Jews, except for those who were single and especially fit for work. In his stories, Beta clearly defines his social position. He belonged to the caste of clever and healthy prisoners, and he brags about his cunning and agility. Life in a concentration camp requires constant alertness; every moment can decide one's life or death. In order to react appro­priately at all times, one must know where danger lies and how to escape it: sometimes by blind obedi­ence, sometimes by calculated negligence, some­times by blackmail or bribery.

[...]

"In the abundant literature of atrocity of the twentieth century, one rarely finds an account writ­ten from the point of view of an accessory to the crime. Authors are usually ashamed of this role. But collaboration is an empty word as applied to a con­centration camp. The machine is impersonal; respon­sibility shifts from those who carry out orders to those higher, always higher. Beta's stories about the "transport" should, I believe, be included in all an­thologies of literature dealing with the lot of man in totalitarian society, if ever such anthologies are compiled."

[...]

"Beta is a nihilist in his stories, but by that I do not mean that he is amoral. On the contrary, his nihilism results from an ethical passion, from dis­appointed love of the world and of humanity. He wants to go the limit in describing what he saw; he wants to depict with complete accuracy a world in which there is no longer any place for indignation. The human species is naked in his stories, stripped of those tendencies toward good which last only so long as the habit of civilization lasts. But the habit of civilization is fragile; a sudden change in circum­stances, and humanity reverts to its primeval sav­agery. How deluded are those respectable citizens who, striding along the streets of English or American cities, consider themselves men of virtue and goodness! Of course, it is easy to condemn a woman who would abandon her child in order to save her own life. This is a monstrous act. Yet a woman who, while reading on her comfortable sofa, judges her unfortunate sister should pause to consider whether fear would not be stronger than love within her, if she too were faced with horror. Perhaps it would, perhaps not -- who can foretell? But the "concentration universe" also contained many human beings who spurred themselves to the noblest acts, who died to protect others. None of them figure in Beta's stories. His attention is fixed not on man -- man is simply an animal that wants to live -but on "concentration society." Prisoners are ruled by a special ethic: it is permissible to harm others, provided they harm you first. Beyond this unwritten contract, every man saves himself as best he can. We would search in vain for pictures of human solidarity in Beta's book. The truth about his behavior in Auschwitz, according to his fellow-prisoners, is ut­terly different from what his stories would lead one to suppose; he acted heroically, and was a model of comradeship. But he wants to be tough; and he does not spare himself in his desire to observe soberly and impartially. He is afraid of lies; and it would be a lie to present himself as an observer who judged, when in reality he, though striving to preserve his in­tegrity, felt subjected to all the laws of degradation. As narrator, he endows himself with the qualities which pass as assets in a concentration camp: clever­ness and enterprise. Thanks to the element of "class" war between the weak and the strong, wherein he did not deviate from the truth, his stories are extraor­dinarily brutal."

Here, you can keep reading the rest of his story, including what I left out in the beginning.

I first heard this story being told by another man, through his voice. These were not words on a screen, they had come alive. He was a Polish man. He understood the horror.

"I have no way of knowing the inner-workings of his mind."

I appreciate Mello's honesty.

Yet...

"How deeply do I grasp my own mind?"

....of my own choice?

Is it in Action? Is it in Theory?

Perhaps both, in some ways.

I'll end with some commentary on the 45th passage of the Tao te Ching.

[hoghtastic]

https://www.tumblr.com/hoghtastic/745668863653462016/yall-keep-talking-about-her-body-as-if-its-a

Anon, who said Johanne is fat. Or that there is anything wrong with having big boobs. Or that her body is a “problem” (whatever that means)🤷‍♀️ Yes, people have an opinion about her looks. Clearly you are one of the stans who is personally offended if anyone doesn’t think Johanne is “beautiful”. Or if they don’t think she has a “hot” body because you look like her. You think she isn’t “shaped bad” Ok, that’s you. There are some people who do. Get over it. You would love it if more anons would fawn over Johanne the way some anons do about MK. You haven’t sent in an ask condemning people for talking about MK’s looks. Reducing her to just her physical appearance and not her intellect or her personality. Give me a break🙄 You are full of shit. You are just upset that most anons over here are not saying that her red hair, freckles, pale skin are “beautiful”. And that we all wished we looked like her because she is just so “hot”.

You asked “what would you say about people that actually look like how you describe her?” Well anon, probably nothing. We are not discussing other random people (and you stans) who look like Johanne. That’s your problem if you are insecure and have low self esteem. And if you are trying to live vicariously through Johanne. We are only talking about Johanne. Especially now that she is posing topless. This is probably just the tip of the iceberg. I can’t imagine what other pictures she will desperately post to show off more of her body.

You also asked “how does she look “mentally challenged?” I’m the anon who wrote that ask. I’m not sure if you were actually offended. Or if you were just finding something else to complain about. Especially if you are not mentally challenged. Nonetheless, I thought I was being politically correct in using that term. Instead of the “R word”. But clearly someone was still offended. I didn’t mean to be “rude” or for my ask to be “upsetting”. I didn’t mean to offend anyone who is actually mentally challenged. Or “represent” them in that way. I just thought the selfie video that Johanne posted was stupid. She looked stupid. Whatever she was doing. It was a “wtf video” to me. I thought that some people might ask wtf is wrong with her? What the hell is she doing? If you thought that was a normal way to “eat toast”. Or if you thought the video was “cute and adorable” like other stans, then fine. I thought she looked crazy and very stupid. And I would say that about anyone who posted a video like that.

Anon, of course you think we are a bunch of “bullies”🙄 And who are we “bullying” exactly? Let me guess🤔 Firstly Johanne and Alex (even though none of the asks are being written on their IG pages) And I doubt they are reading this blog. And secondly you stans. The poor little stans that are constantly being “attacked” by all of us “haters”🙄😂 You said “if people are going to continue to act like the people they say they can’t stand, then….”No, anon that’s you and the other stans. You all have a problem/meltdown if anyone doesn’t agree you. You all come across as the actual “bullies”.

You said you are going to “check out”. I really think that is for the best. It’s probably better for your mental health. Clearly this blog triggers you (as well as the other stans). And you can’t handle it. It might benefit you to look into why you are so triggered when other people dislike Johanne. Or talk about her body. Because it really shouldn’t. You shouldn’t need a C-list/D-list “celebrity” for validation. Or to boost up your self esteem. You shouldn’t care if the feedback about Johanne is positive or negative. But if you still choose to be a stan for Johanne, there are a couple of stan blogs. A blog just recently decided to become a hardcore stan blog for Johanne and Alex and Johanne as a “celebrity couple”. You can find the name of it on this blog. It was talked about recently. And of course there are several fan pages on IG that worship Johanne and go on and on about her “beauty”. You said “have fun, stay happy, stay safe, truly enjoy life everyone”. Well, I think you should take your own advice. I think most anons, if not all of us, are doing those things. This is just for fun. It shouldn’t be taken seriously.😊😉😚

Anon to anon, in response to this ask. 😊 "This is just for fun. It shouldn’t be taken seriously." — Preach! 🙌💖

[diaryofarthurjones]

It’s a surreal feeling to be in the presence of someone that you admire. (I find it important to make clear that to admire does not mean to agree. And while this may seem like a preemptive attempt to shield myself from possible cancellation, to whatever extent it actually exists, it is my hope the reader does not conflate one with the other.) (Another parenthetical to explain the previous parenthetical. The platform I’m using, Tumblr, doesn’t allow one to insert footnotes, or at least I don’t know how, which would prove a recent thesis that I’m now, quote-unquote, old. And I’m okay with that. I embrace that. So…henceforth parentheticals are to be read as footnotes and can therefore be skipped.)

This month, because of my current position working for A—University, I had the opportunity to be part of the team that organized a celebration of a very well-known public intellectual that happens to be running for POTUS as an independent. Let’s call him Easton Conway. A short biography would read as: Conway, born in Northern California, is a tenured professor at the Union Theological Seminary and teaches subjects such as philosophy, politics cultural theory, and more. He has earned degrees at Harvard and Princeton, has been arrested multiple times for noble reasons, and walks around with an afro reminiscent of the 1970’s.

I’ve read only one of their books on race, but have listened to countless lectures, and find myself in awe most of the time. How can one person be so powerful, so kind, so smart? If there was a mascot for the life of the mind, it would be Easton Conway. Or Brother Conway, as he’s known worldwide. I admire Conway not because I’m an expert in Conway Studies, but because I appreciate someone who talks so much talk actually walks the walk. Someone who isn’t afraid to be wrong. Someone who fights for justice. An, mostly importantly to me, an example of what freedoms truly looks like.

A freedom that isn’t tied to the idea of physical chains. This kind of freedom that isn’t shielded from consequence. It means speaking up for precious Palestinian babies in the face of unmerited (better yet: idiotic) claims of antisemitism, knowing that giving voice to truth will get speaking invitations rescinded, further straining and already strained bank account.

And so when I met Brother Conway. He walked through the door, big smile, big Afro, and looked me directly in the eye, then down a bit to catch my name written on the name tag and said, “How are you doing my brotha?” He reached out with both hands to shake my one hand and it instead felt weightless, like a pool noodle. “Im good, Dr. Conway,” I said. I didn’t know what to call home. Should I have said Easton? He would have responded the same way because he isn’t that kind of person. But that seemed too formal. Brother Conway felt like I was trying too hard, somewhere to opt for formality, seeing he held two Ph.D’s from two of the world’s most prestigious institutions. “…How are you doing this morning,” I finish, trying to regain feeling in my right arm. “Ooh well you know, another day to speak truth to justice…Arthur, that’s a lovely name.” I look down at my nametag, look back up at Conway and say, “My mother named me that.”

I melted. A stupid response. I wanted to crawl inward, toward non existence, to reflect on the meaning of life, to understand why things happened the way that they did. Why was it me who said a stupid thing to a once in a lifetime intellectual instead of the other way around? Me, who reads dozens of books every year and forgets most of it. Me: an average Joe of average intellect.

But of course Brother Conway responded gracefully, masterfully.

“That’s love right there.”

[twilightguardian]

X-Men Comic Journey/Fake Geek Reads Comics

Issues 1-10 (November 10th 1963-March 10th, 1965)

I don’t know why I’m doing this.

Well, I do. I’m a fake geek girl and I need to not be fake shit anymore. But I don’t know why I started now when for years I’ve been thinking of getting into comics and just never have. But when I get into something, I go hard. I doubt that it’s really novel or unheard of to have read the old issues or whatever. I suppose I wanted to document my journey as I go along. Voice my thoughts.

Also hey, it took them a whole year to even get 8 issues out. Now I don’t feel quite as bad for my own comic’s lack of progress!

I’ve been a fan of the X-Men since I was little, having a kid’s channel continuously on or flipping between the channels and would occasionally catch the 90′s X-Men cartoon. Rogue (hated Gambit, she was too good for him in my mind) was my favourite character, but I also liked Cyclops. I also have fond memories of X-Men Evolution and the live action movies. But I only ever consumed visual media of the series, and for a long time knew that the comics ran much longer. I heard tales of the kinds of storylines going on in them, how crazy they got and how you pretty much have to follow the series to understand them. Why not start at the beginning?

I had already watched Atop the Fourth Wall’s episode of the first 1963 issue, but I read it anyways and it’s... interesting.

From the first few pages I can already tell there’s going to be some growing pains for me; things I need to get used to. I grew up primarily reading manga, you see. It’s pretty minimalist most of the time with the dialogue barring certain exposition or explanations, and a lot of the time the art is flowing. The words keep to itself, for the most part, allowing the pictures to tell the story. Of course, that’s modern manga to 50-year-old American comic books. Still, this is the kind of cultural shift I have to deal with.

We meet the main cast of characters. Professor X, Iceman, Beast, THE Angel, and Cyclops, also known as Charles Xavier, Bobby Drake, Hank McCoy, Warren Worthington the Third (I’m sorry for your name dude), and... Slim? Summers. Wow, okay. So these characters aren’t quite who I know them as, for sure. Especially poor Hank.

Hank looks relatively normal, which is something I’m not used to since I’m more naturalized to his more blue, fuzzy appearance. Really, the only thing different about him is his large Hobbit feet and thick, stout build. His intellect is missing and while being rather polite overall, still gives off a sense of brutishness likely reminiscent of a gorilla.

Scott isn’t really a thing. Instead, he’s referred to as Slim, and he jokes around with the other three.

Bobby is supposed to be a younger teenager, while it’s presumed that the others are older. He has no interest in gazing at the new recruit, Jean Gray. Apparently these days Bobby is gay in the comics, though I doubt that’s the actual explanation in the first issue and not just... showing the general teenage immaturity of this otherwise 30-year-old looking cartoon doodle. His immaturity is further elaborated on both in dialogue several times and his general demeanor. He’s also depicted as just some human-shaped mass of loose snow.

None of them really have any defined personality to speak of. They’re all rough-housy boys who (aside from the child) all topple over each other for the new (female) recruit to pay them notice.

Jean herself is what I’d expect for a female character written in the day. Generic pretty and someone whom all the menfolk get stupid about and into fashion. Also, her powers are made so that she doesn’t have to do physical activity because that’s unladylike.

This is also the first appearance of Magneto and whoo-boy. He’s nothing but your typical moustache-twirling villain. Ouch. He doesn’t so much hate humans because they’re dicks, but more he’s the dick who thinks that evolution is a step-laddar and humanity is the old thing that needs to make way for the new hotness known as “superior”. Because that’s not pretentious or anything. 

It’s kind of eye-rolling if you even have any passing actual knowledge of evolution. Personally, I wouldn’t treat humans as a separate species, but I mention this because I know this is a running theme to this day. Creatures are classified as separate species when they are no longer to produce viable offspring with each other. The genetic differences become so great, the genes can no longer intermingle. It’s like saying your child has autism, or they were born with red hair while yours and your husbands’ hair is blonde. They’re suddenly a different species of human being!

Magneto is just fucking racist and so far in the comic there’s literally no reason for it other than he’s an evil dick. Especially not when, as we see, there’s a rather Fantastic Four-ish feel to the X-Men. They’re ‘public figures’ as a superhero group. They’re also rather well liked. The whole mutant persecution thing actually doesn’t even show hints of showing up until at least issue 5.

Whenever I talk about this, I get a lot of apologetics, which frustrates the hell out of me. ‘Oh, it’s the 60′s, what do you expect?’

I expect a modern-day grasp of how writing and storytelling works. I don’t care that silly things like the gang having a Journey to the Center of the Earth episodic moment. I don’t care that they have prat falls and their actual fight scenes are lacklustre and boring. I’m talking about consistency and other quite basic writing things that just aren’t there. Writing didn’t get perfected in the 21st century or even 20 years later. I am reading a comic from the 60′s. I’m expecting a bit of silliness. I expect also at least some decent storytelling and not... making shit up on the fly.

[geminiwritten]

jesse’s girl ; bucky barnes

fandom: marvel

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: natasha encourages you to date one of the new recruits in the hopes that it might provoke bucky to confess his feelings for you

notes: this is messy and i’m so sorry but i’ve be so stuck lately and i had to force myself to get this written! i hope it’s decent...

word count: 4744 (i don’t even know)

Three weeks ago, the only thing you could think about was Bucky Barnes. His blue eyes and the twinkle that they get when he smiles really wide, the way he flips his hair out of his eyes during a sparring match, and the smell of his aftershave after a hot shower. Everything about Bucky Barnes felt as though it was a drug designed specifically for you.

But that was three weeks ago.

After venting to Natasha and Wanda on a long overdue girls’ night, you finally agreed to go on a date with one of the new recruits who had been asking you out for almost a month. His name was Jesse, and he was one of twelve new agents that were being trained by Steve, Sam, and Bucky in the hopes of being able to help on missions where numbers were necessary.

Natasha convinced you that maybe Jesse would be the chance for you to move on and forget about Bucky, since your infatuation was very evidently not reciprocated. You were sceptical at first, but he was cute and funny, and he seemed genuine, so you agreed to go out with him.

“Hey,” you greeted, looking up at the sound of your room door opening, “how was training?”

Despite his soft smile, it was obvious that Jesse was exhausted, “Good, yeah…”

You stood from your desk and gestured for him to give you his heavy tactical jacket, “What’s that ‘yeah’ for?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, “I’m just tired.”

“Really?” you asked, following him as he sat on the edge of your bed to remove his boots.

“I mean,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I don’t want you to think that I’m making shit up or just being a wuss but…”

“But?”

He sighed, “I just feel like Barnes is going a little hard on me.”

You frowned, unable to stop the way your heartbeat began to race, “What do you mean?”

The fitness watch secured around your wrist beeped at the sudden elevation in heartrate, to which Jesse offered you a confused frown.

You tapped the device in an attempt to shut it up, mumbling, “Stupid thing.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered, thankfully ignoring the watch, “I’m probably just over-thinking it but he really doesn’t seem to like me. He made me do thirty extra laps because I asked an ‘irrelevant question’ even though Timms had just asked him how long lunch break was. And he’s always calling me out for having poor form, he gives me all the broken gear and all the shitty roles during dummy-missions. He’s never even given me a chance to lead but Timms has, twice!”

You frowned, “Which one is Timms again?”

“Frosted tips.”

“Oh,” you watched as he tucked his laces neatly inside his empty boots, “that’s rough.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I don’t know, maybe I’m being dramatic.”

You shrugged, “I don’t think so, none of that sounds at all fair to me.”

He turned to you, looking up through his lashes with pleading eyes, “Really? Because I was thinking that maybe, if you didn’t mind, you could talk to him for me?”

Your watch chirped with another heart rate warning, “Oh, um, like talk to Bucky and ask him to ease up, or…”

“Yeah! He doesn’t have to go soft on me just cause I’m dating you,” he winked badly, “but I wouldn’t mind a pat on the back every now and then.”

“A pat on the back?” you echoed, still trying to squash the sound of your watch with your other hand.

He stood quickly from the bed, gathering his jacket and shoes and pausing before the door, “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Wait,” you stood too, “aren’t you staying here tonight?”

He shook his head, “I’ve got an early start tomorrow, and besides, now you have a chance to talk to Barnes for me!”

Though you couldn’t actually remember agreeing to it, you nodded slowly and leant into his kiss as his lips collided with your cheek.

“Thanks babe, see you tomorrow!”

The door swung shut in your face, leaving you to stare bewildered at the empty coat hook stuck to the back of it.

After sitting pensively on the foot of your bed and allowing yourself enough time to process the conversation that had just taken place, you decided to go upstairs. You hadn’t spent a lot of time with the team over the past few weeks, thanks to Jesse, and you couldn’t help feeling a little sheepish as you stepped out of the elevator and into the common room.

“Oh, my!” Tony, the first to lay eyes on you, exclaimed, “Could it be our long-lost comrade?”

Clint chuckled, “We thought you’d been taken hostage, or worse.”

Before you could speak, Peter walked up to you with his hand outstretched, “Hi, my name’s Peter Parker, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”

You gasped indignantly and slapped his hand away, “Watch it, smart ass.”

The rest of the group who were sprawled around the living area rumbled with laughter while Peter received a proud high-five from Tony.

“You know, princess,” Sam said, appearing beside you and placing a heavy hand on your shoulder, “I think you owe us an apology.”

You scoffed, “I don’t owe you anything, Wilson.”

“Actually,” Steve pitched in from his spot on the lounge, “I’d say you owe me some gratitude since I was the one who hired your new boyfriend.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of that word out loud. Though you’d thought it once or twice, you hadn’t yet heard it spoken aloud and something about it made your insides knot.

“Don’t say that word,” you snapped, “I- we haven’t talked about it yet.”

Natasha’s ears pricked at the sound of discomfort in your voice, and her eyes quickly looked to Bucky. He was slumped beside Steve on the three-seater sofa, his elbow resting on the arm of it as his hand supported his head. He looked as if he was doing his best to sink right into the lounge itself, his lips pressed in a thin line and grey eyes glued to the television screen.

Natasha supressed an evil smile as she turned her attention to you, “What do you mean you haven’t talked about it? You were just saying yesterday how dreamy this guy was.”

Crimson colour blossomed in your cheeks, “Thanks, Nat,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “All it means is that we haven’t spoken about labels yet, now would you all butt out of my love-life?”

“Love?” Sam exclaimed, much to Natasha’s delight.

She glanced at Bucky, whose jaw was getting significantly tighter.

“Oh, come on!” you huffed as you pushed past Sam, moving toward the sofa where Bucky and Steve were seated.

“You know, Y/N,” Nat said as you situated yourself between the two super soldiers, “if it’s not too early for the L-word then I think you should at least start using the B-word.”

Before anyone else could react or respond, Bucky jumped up from the lounge and practically sprinted toward the kitchen door. Silence enveloped the room, everyone staring at the blazing trail that he left behind.

“Well,” Sam spoke first, trying and failing to conceal his amusement, “I wonder what that was about.”

He and Natasha exchanged a knowing glance before dissolving into giggles.

“You two are cruel,” Wanda said, standing from her seat at the dining table and heading for the elevator.

“Did I miss something?” you asked.

Beside you, Steve shrugged, “Just ignore them, they’re being idiots. Buck has had a hard few weeks and he’s nervous about having to let go of some of the recruits tomorrow.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were going to have to get rid of anyone.”

“Yeah, some of them just aren’t performing well,” he replied, “but between you and me, Jesse is safe.”

You knew you should have felt relief, but you were too busy worrying about Bucky to even consider the safety of Jesse’s position in the recruitment programme.

“He’s actually performing really well, he’s a very promising recruit,” Steve added.

You blinked yourself out of your own spiralling thoughts, “Who is?”

Nat snorted a laugh from across the living room.

“Jesse is,” Steve said, “your boyf-”

“I told you not to use that word,” you interrupted him, standing from the sofa. “Um, I’m just going to go see if Bucky is okay.”

No one spoke a word as you exited through the same door that Bucky had moments before, and as soon as it swung closed behind you, Steve turned to Nat, “Is there something I should know?”

Her grin was nothing but satisfied, because her evil plan was going exactly as she had hoped.

Natasha wasn’t stupid, in fact, she was the exact opposite. She was an international super-spy with a genius level intellect, specially trained to be able to manipulate people and events in her favour. It would have been stupid for her not to use her expert skills and abilities on you, despite the fact that you were one of her closest friends and fellow avenger.

It all started three weeks ago when you had requested a special night in with both Wanda and Natasha. The girls knew that you were once again needing to vent about your unrequited love for Bucky, but Natasha had decided that it was time she did something to fix her best friend’s broken heart. She knew that Bucky felt the same, and not just because Wanda had told her in complete confidence from once hearing his thoughts, but because the Winter Soldier wasn’t at all good at hiding the way he felt about you. At least, not from Natasha.

She could easily see the way that you both pined for one another, so really, she was doing the two of you – and the whole team – a favour. Jesse’s feelings were just collateral damage, and she only felt a twinge of guilt for using him as a pawn to evoke Bucky’s jealous rage in the hopes that he might finally express his feelings for you.

“Are you insane?” Steve asked once Natasha had finished explaining her scheme, “Bucky is going to kill you if he finds out.”

She shrugged, “Finds out what? That I encouraged my best friend to go on a date with a cute guy? That’s hardly a crime.”

Wanda re-entered the room with her drawing pad tucked under her arm, “Like I said, cruel.”

In the gym, down on the lowest level of the compound, Bucky had changed into his sweats and begun pummelling all of his anger into one of the sparring dummies.

“Careful,” you said, stepping up to the ropes around the elevated sparring ring, “Tony just got us a new one, he’ll be fuming if you destroy this one so soon.”

At the sound of your voice his footing stuttered and he tripped forward, his thick arms wrapping around the dummy in order to stop his whole body from falling to the floor.

“Jeez,” he huffed as he righted himself, “don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry,” you blushed, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He watched as your nervous eyes searched for anything else to rest upon but him, “Don’t be sorry.”

He cursed himself for being so soft around you and turned back to the dummy before he had the chance to say anything he might regret.

“Are you alright?” you asked him, resting both forearms on the lowest rope.

He landed two expert punches to the torso of the dummy before turning back to you, a bead of sweat escaping his hairline and racing down his sharp cheekbone.

“Of course, why?” he lied.

You shrugged, “Just seem off, that’s all.”

“I’m fine,” he said, “a little tired, but fine.”

Your eyes were wide, silently pleading for him to be honest, but he was too stubborn.

“Okay,” you said, reaching your arm up toward him with your pinkie finger outstretched, “pinkie-promise?”

His whole body felt warm and fuzzy, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He couldn’t resist you, so he crouched down and linked his flesh pinkie finger with yours.

“I pinkie-promise.”

The stupid sound of your fitness watch alerting you about your erratic pulse made you both startle, and the blush returned to your cheeks tenfold.

“What’s that?” Bucky asked.

You retracted your hand and quickly held the watch behind your back, “Just- uh, low battery I think, stupid thing.”

He frowned.

“I should get to bed, anyway,” you said as you backed away from the sparring ring, “I’m glad you’re okay, Bucky, really.”

You spun around and headed quickly for the door, smacking the small screen on your wrist in another lame attempt to get the thing to shut up.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky called across the gym, stopping you just before the door.

He wanted to tell you how he missed you. How he missed your smile and your voice, and the way that you would always take his side over Sam’s. He wanted to tell you that the last few weeks have been hell, and that he hated every second that you weren’t by his side. He wanted to tell you how he really felt about you, but he couldn’t.

“Jesse is really great,” he blurted out instead, “he’s a really promising recruit, and I think you two make a great couple.”

You felt as if someone had stuck a pin into the side of your heart, popping it like a balloon.

“Oh, uh, thanks, Buck,” you called back, “I really miss you though.”

Before your watch could identify another alarming elevation in your heartrate, you swung the door open and hurried into the corridor, away from the gym.

Over the next few days, you avoided just about everyone. You were confused about Jesse and still overwhelmed by Bucky, and most of all, you felt as though you were missing out on some huge inside joke with the rest of the team. You needed space in order to pacify your turbulent thoughts and decide exactly what you wanted to do next.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Wanda said, waving a hand in front of your dazed eyes.

You blinked yourself back to reality, “Sorry, what’d you say?”

“I asked if you were coming to watch the recruits after lunch.”

“Watch them do what?”

She rolled her eyes, “The sparring competition.”

Your confusion only deepened with the crease between your brows.

“Against Natasha and Barnes,” she elaborated, “didn’t Jesse tell you?”

You shook your head, “I haven’t really had much of a chance to see him lately.”

She had to fight the temptation to listen in to your thoughts, “Oh, well, Steve decided that a little friendly competition might boost morale among the recruits after they had to let two of them go last week. They’re going to spar with one another and the four best recruits will get to fight either Bucky or Natasha.”

“Holy shit,” you muttered, “that’s- uh, that’s intense.”

“I suppose it is,” she said, “are you okay?”

You nodded slowly, “Yeah, of course, just a little preoccupied.”

Nearly three hours later you were seated between Wanda and Sam in the first row of the gymnasium’s modest bleachers. Tony had them built in beside the sparring ring for occasions such as this, or for watching Natasha kick Rogers’ ass as he often liked to remind everyone.

The eleventh match was almost over, which meant there were only five more until four of the recruits would have to fight Bucky or Natasha. They were quick rounds, hardly lasting any longer than five minutes each, and with every winner that Steve called you could feel your palms getting sweatier and sweatier.

“For your sake, I hope Jesse gets Romanoff,” the burly recruit sitting behind you said, he had already won his first two matches and you had no doubt he would be one of the four winners.

“What do you mean?” you asked, turning in your seat to look at him.

“Jesse’s one of the best fighters, I don’t doubt he’ll be one of the top four, but Barnes will snap him in half if he gets the chance,” the man replied.

Sam’s attention was piqued now, and he too turned around, “What the hell are you talking about, man? This is just a friendly competition.”

This time, the recruit frowned, “I know that, but Barnes hates Jesse, he’s always had it out for him and don’t think he’ll be very friendly if he’s given the chance to fight the kid.”

You turned to Sam, watching his face morph slowly into realisation.

“Wait,” you said, “I’m still confused. Bucky doesn’t hate Jesse, he told me himself that he thinks he’s a great recruit.”

The burly recruit looked from you to Sam, and then back to you as he slowly raised both hands in mock surrender.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, “but this conversation is definitely above my paygrade.”

Sam turned back to face the sparring ring, obviously ignoring your confused and urgent eyes.

“Sam,” you poked his bicep, “What the fuck is going on?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know, I just-”

“Next match is Jesse versus Angelina,” Steve announced, interrupting Sam, “and if Jesse wins this match, he will be the first of our final four!”

The small group of recruits, agents, avengers, and friends of avengers cheered, but you were all too confused to even muster a clap. Steve then announced that the match would begin in five minutes, so you took your chance and hurried over to where Jesse was stretching beside the ring.

“Hey,” you said, “how are you feeling?”

“Hey!” he exclaimed, excitedly planting a sloppy kiss on your lips, “I feel great, I’ve got this in the bag.”

You resisted the urge to wipe your lips on the back of your sweater sleeve.

“Oh, really? I mean, you’re incredible but these other recruits are pretty tough.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “not really, they’re all fairly amateur but these rounds are just a warm-up.”

“A warm-up for what?”

“Barnes,” he replied, his gaze locked on something across the ring.

You glanced over to see Tony helping Bucky try on a few different gloves, each of them made from a variety of soft materials and reaching up his forearm and above his elbow.

Jesse sniggered, “Those gloves are a waste of time, he won’t get a chance to land one on me.”

“Are you serious?” you scoffed, “Jesse, he is a genetically enhanced, special-ops, super spy. He could kill almost everyone in this room without even breaking a sweat.”

“Almost everyone,” Jesse echoed, “you’re right, but not me. Don’t worry babe, I’ve been waiting for a chance to show Barnes who’s boss ever since recruitment day.”

You were utterly speechless, anchored to the ground by overwhelming disbelief of what you had just heard. You hardly even noticed when Jesse kissed your lips once more before Steve called him into the ring.

Slowly, you moved back to your seat between Wanda and Sam.

“Are you okay?” Wanda asked, a gentle finger hooking beneath your chin to close your open mouth.

You were in shock, “That kid is an idiot.”

“I could have told you that,” Sam said, “he’s too cocky, always pushing back and refusing orders. We only keep him around because he’s shown some real skill, and because of you.”

“What?” you snapped, “Why the fuck didn’t anyone tell me?”

He shrugged yet again, “Barnes asked us not to, said that if you liked him then he must be a good guy deep down.”

You glared at him accusingly before whipping around to Wanda, “Did you know this?!”

She smiled sheepishly, “Yes and no.”

“Ugh,” you groaned loudly, “why the hell is everyone being so damn cryptic lately?!”

Steve’s voice once again echoed around the gym, announcing Jesse as the winner and the first of the four finalists.

The next few rounds happened faster than you could keep up with. Every time the bell rang to signal the beginning of a match, you fell back into the spiralling pool of thoughts in your head. You wanted to find answers for all the questions you had but there was something that you didn’t know, a piece of information that you needed in order to finish the puzzle you so desperately wanted to solve.

“Oh, my god,” Wanda said, bringing you back to reality, “this isn’t going to end well.”

“What happened?”

“Jesse is going to verse Barnes,” Sam replied, trying terribly to hide the amusement in his tone.

“Is Bucky really going to kill him?” you asked.

“He’s thinking about it,” Wanda said.

Everyone cheered as Natasha was the first to fight the burly recruit from before. She had him in a headlock within seconds, but he certainly didn’t seem too bummed about being trapped between her thighs.

The next match was a muscly female recruit against Bucky, who was inhibited by a silicone glove covering his bionic arm. She was incredible, and seemed to actually give him a run for his money until Steve rang the three-minute bell and Bucky pinned her to the floor. He had obviously been going easy on her, only putting a fraction of his power into every move for the fear of actually injuring her.

After the rest of the recruits celebrated the length of time that their comrade had managed to stay in the ring with the Winter Soldier, it was time for Natasha’s second duel. She was up against a petite but lean female recruit who only had half a head of inky black hair that was braided tightly to her scalp. The fight was dynamic and entertaining to watch, even Natasha seemed to be enjoying herself with the skilled young recruit, but after five minutes passed Nat won the round.

It was nice to watch all the young recruits celebrate with each other. They were all huddled together, chatting excitedly about how great this competition was and how amazing both Nat and Bucky were. They were genuinely happy for one another and they were starting to act like a real team, all but one of them.

Jesse was back in his spot beside the ring, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his hands on his knees, palms facing up.

“Is he meditating?” Sam said, taking the words right out of your mouth.

“Not really,” Wanda answered him, her eyes trained on Jesse, “he’s a bit nervous, but he’s hoping that everyone is looking at him and thinking he’s really cool. He also can’t wait for victory sex tonight.”

Your stomach lurched, threatening to send your lunch back up your oesophagus, “Gross.”

The moment Steve stepped into the middle of the ring, the gym went silent, as if everyone was waiting for this fight.

“I can’t wait to see Barnes destroy him,” a voice from somewhere behind you said, “the weasel deserves it.”

“He shouldn’t even be given this chance,” another voice joined in, “it’s an honour to be in one of these matches and Jesse’s just an arrogant prick. I can’t believe he wasn’t kicked out of the programme last week.”

Steve rang the bell and the match began.

Bucky was still wearing his silicone glove so he didn’t accidentally kill his opponent, though you almost wished that he had taken it off this time.

Jesse wore a stupid smirk as he danced on his toes around the ring. Bucky had to use all of his strength not to knock the idiot out in one punch, but it was becoming increasingly difficult the longer he had to wait for the first swing.

“I know your technique, Barnes,” Jesse said, only loud enough for Bucky to hear.

Bucky just rolled his eyes, “This is a sparring match, Jesse, just shut up and throw a punch.”

“Why would I do something that you’re expecting me to-”

Bucky swung a soft fist into Jesse’s torso, knocking the wind out of him and earning a cheer from the crowd.

“Big mistake,” Jesse spluttered as he tried to regain composure.

Bucky just rolled his eyes before fluidly ducking Jesse’s first swing, and then the second and the third.

“Stop thinking about how you look while you’re fighting and focus on technique,” he said as he resisted the urge to finish the match right then and there.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Jesse’s swings became sloppy and Bucky was easily dodging every attack. The crowd were cheering and even Steve had to fight the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

As Bucky moved around the ring, guiding Jesse whichever way he pleased, he searched for you. He knew it was silly, but he wanted to know if you were watching, he wanted to see if you were worried about Jesse or if you were watching for him.

The moment he found you, his heart began to race. Of course, it was already a little worked up from dodging Jesse’s careless fists, but the effect that you had was so immense it made him a little dizzy. Then he saw the corner of your pink lips quirk upwards ever so slightly and for a split second, he lost focus.

Jesse’s fist collided with Bucky’s jaw, drawing a gasp from the crowd as Bucky stumbled on his feet.

“That’s what you get for looking at my girl,” Jesse sneered.

Bucky glanced at you, worry now consuming your perfect features.

Jesse too glanced back, evoking a flicker of rage across your face before he turned back to Bucky and really put the final nail in his coffin, “I just can’t wait to fuck her tonight after I win this stupid competition.”

Wanda gasped, “Holy shit.”

“What?” you demanded.

“Oh, no,” Sam muttered.

In the time it had taken you to turn to Wanda and turn back to the ring, Bucky had begun beating the life out of Jesse and Steve was running into the ring to stop the fight.

You leapt off your seat as your watch, yet again, began beeping obnoxiously to alert you that your pulse was beating dangerously fast.

By the time you reached the side of the ring, Steve and Tony had pulled the pair apart. Bucky climbed out of the ring as Steve carried Jesse off to the infirmary. The recruits were cheering for Bucky, chattering animatedly about the events that had just transpired.

“Bucky!” you exclaimed, “Are you okay?”

The pure uncontrollable anger in his eyes melted away the moment they met yours.

“Hey, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, finding a towel to dab at his split lip.

You raised your brows, “The last time you said that to me you were lying.”

He couldn’t help the silly smile that you brought to his lips, “I’m sorry, and I’m sorry that I broke the sacred vow of a pinkie promise.”

“It’s okay, as long as you’re okay.”

For a moment you simply stared at each other, hearts thrumming and palms sweating until painful realisation shot Bucky through the chest.

“Well, uh, you should probably go check on your boyf-”

“Please don’t,” you cut him off, softly bringing your hands up to his jaw, “that idiot is not my boyfriend, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Bucky whispered, his voice failing him as you overwhelmed his senses.

You shook your head, “No, I have a Bucky.”

That was all he needed to close the distance between your lips, pressing his body against yours as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth.

You never wanted to part from him, not for anyone or anything, not even for air but the sudden chirping of your fitness watch made the two of you startle.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you sighed.

Bucky chuckled, “What the hell is that noise?”

You laughed too, “It’s my Bucky-radar actually, because whenever there’s a Bucky nearby it beeps like crazy because my pulse starts going a hundred miles a minute.”

“Is that so?” his smirk almost made your knees buckle, “Should we test this thing out then, see how fast your heart has to race before it breaks?”

You hooked your arms around his neck, the watch still chirping, “And how exactly do you suggest we do that?”

He pressed another breathtaking kiss to your lips, stealing every coherent thought in your head.

“Oh, I’ve got a list.”

END.

[thenightling]

The Internet has forgotten what real ableism

The word Ableist is thrown around a lot where it doesn’t belong.

The way it is thrown around on the Internet it has been diminished an lost some meaning.   It's like the boy who cried wolf.

I’ve been called ableist on this Hell site twice.  Once for referring to the character Rumplestiltskin from Once Upon a Time as having a disability (The character walks with a cane because of a shattered ankle).  

Someone decided that acknowledging Rumplestiltskin has a disability is ableist because he “did it to himself.”   The character can’t walk without a cane.  But because they don’t like him and don’t sympathize with his backstory, he “doesn’t count” and if you say he has a disability “you are ableist” by default.   This... really happened...  

The other accusation was pretty recent.  It was someone angry at me for debunking Reality Shifting to F--king Hogwarts. Apparently explaining what Lucid Dreaming and maladaptive Daydreaming is now counts as Ableist.

The irony?  I am legally blind.  I’m not actually blind, it just means extremely poor eyesight.  

Hell, I saw Daredevil (the blind superhero) called ableist on this Hellsite because he called a serial killer “crazy.”  The character, in question, was The Punisher.  Yes, The Punisher was sympathetic.  But the blind Superhero, chained up by a known murderer, and being goaded to kill, is NOT “Ableist” for telling his own kidnapper that he’s crazy.  It’s not the most polite term but when you’re chained up by a killer you get a little slack, for God’s sake!  That doesn’t mean you forever call the blind character “Ableist”.

Neil Gaiman (the famous author) was called ableist right here on Tumblr and Facebook because he corrected the spelling of someone who sent him an antisemitic ask.  That’s right.  The Jewish author was called an ableist for... correcting a antisemite’s typo...   He was even sent an ask, asking him to defend himself, because someone had shown his reply to the antisemite to their Facebook group and the members said he was being ableist. The Jewish man was... being ableist... for correcting the typo... of someone sending him hate...  You can probably still find it on Neil’s blog.  You can’t make something like this up!   It’s just too profoundly stupid.  

Tumblr (and other sites) don’t know what ableism actually is and it’s infuriating.  You want to know what REAL ableism is?  

Ableism is being in kindergarten and for “safety” reasons they won’t let you play on the nice playground equipment all your friends are playing on because they’re afraid you’ll fall off with your poor eyesight but you can play on old, rusty, metal ones, making recess socializing really awkward and difficult.  THAT one is okay for some reason! Ableism is swinging around a toy animal with a long tail, accidentally hitting someone because you have no depth perception, the teacher KNOWING you have no depth perception, but still dedicating the afternoon to teaching the class why hitting is wrong, so it’s a humiliation fest because of an accident.

Ableism is being fifteen-years-old in high school and being the only kid who has to call home first to make sure “someone is there for you” to allow you to leave if school gets let out early.  Every... single... time... Ableism is knowing how to swim but the class fieldtrip to the public pool requires a permission slip and even with the permission slip you are only allowed in the wading pool.

Ableism is when Special Ed teachers treat you like you’re mentally disabled because it is the only disability they are used to. (This happens a LOT.)  It makes you feel like you’re stupid or that the world must see you as stupid so that when IQ tests arrive in the mail saying you have a superior intellect you break down crying.

Ableism is going to a school Speech therapy because you have a lisp (I lost my two front teeth when I was a two and they didn’t grow back in until I was almost thirteen).  And the speech teacher is used to neurological conditions where the student can’t shift topics in a conversation and decides you don’t need Speech therapy because you can hold a normal conversation.  Yes, but, I still couldn’t pronounce “Shh.”  I was there for a lisp!

Ableism is being bullied by other kids who pretend to miss their own mouth when eating to mock how poor your sight is. (Because you... see your mouth when eating?!?) Ableism is when a kid sings “O say can Amanda see” every single time we’re made to sing the Star Spangled banner so you come hate the National anthem  or “Three blind Pikes.”  (My name is Amanda Pike).   Three Blind Mice is already unpleasant enough.

Ableism is a teacher telling you she'll have your poetry published in an anthology but it must contain a short bio that says you're in the vision Impaired program.  As if that's the extent of who you are and the reason you'd be published and not because your writing is actually any good... Ableism is the head of the high school's "Vision impaired program" wanting to do "Vision awareness week" by pinning the names of everyone with visual disabilities all over the school.  Because that's not humiliating at all when there are kids already mocking you for your eyesight. Ableism is someone stealing your bookbag in Jr. High, and finding it later with the word “Cyclops” written across it in permanent marker.

Ableism is multiple reviews (including professional ones) whining that Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman audio drama adaptation should have been “updated” for modern audiences with certain parts taken out because it’s “problematic” even though this was literally the first version of the story accessible for the visually impaired or dyslexic. None of these reviews caring that anyone with a disability might want to know the story as it was originally written without having to have a friend read it out loud to them.  That’s ableism disguised as being “woke.”   “This thirty-four-year-old story doesn’t fit modern sensibilities. It should have been re-written.” while ignoring that for many this was their first time even having access to the story at all, warts and all, and sometimes you want to know how a thing was originally written- the good and the bad, not just the polished up and “updated” version.  Deliberately denying access to a story, as it was written, because you don’t like it, is ableist.     That’s ableism.

But...

When you’re called ableist for referring to a character who has a disability as having a disability simply because the person in question doesn’t like him...

When a blind character is called ableist for calling the man beating him up, chaining him up, and murdering people, crazy...

When a Jewish man is called ableist because he corrected the typo of an antisemite sending him hate...

When you’re called ableist for explaining what maladaptive daydreaming is and telling someone they aren’t magically gaining control of the universe where Harry Potter is real...

The word “Ableist” has lost all meaning.   And it’s infuriating.  As someone who has experienced genuine ableism since I was four-years-old, before the term was even coined, it is infuriating.  I knew some teachers, and students were treating me unfairly just because of my eyesight, but the term didn’t exist / wasn’t common yet.   And now the term is thrown around for stupid reasons so it’s diminished.

[sillysorcerer]

A small flame dances in front of the three guards, the light dancing across their faces.

"It, it's a phantom. it has to be!"

A young, frail knight shakes in his armor. It is ill-fitting, and the three are clearly poorly funded.

"Shut up! it's the witch's trick. It has to be. She's around here somewhere," the large guard corrects his companion. He has a flat, bold face.

"What if it's a fae? or- or a sprite," the first guard asks. The larger guard inches closer to the flame, studying it. The heat is all too real on his face, and it still dances on the wind, hovering in front of him, taunting him. He is about to grab it when the small guard causes him to jump.

"It's a fairy! We're all going to be cursed just looking at it!"

"It's not! Shut up," he snaps back.

"What is it then," the third guard asks. "He might have a point. Fire doesn't just fly."

"F-fine. You have a point." The bulky guard backs away. "Let's just go. She can't have gone far." The three guards cower away, down the road.

The mage known as Rose Lalonde fades slowly back into view, casting off her invisibility now that her pusuers were gone. Fire plays around her fingertips.

Rose leans against the tree on her back. She sits on a waist-high stone wall, built to protect travelers along the road. It stretches further than anyone can see. Long ago it was clean and white, but now it is dusty and grey with time, even as the bright sun shines on it.

Rose extinguishes the flame with a snap of her fingers and heaves a long sigh. Her pointy hat flops slightly, matching her bored sideways glance. She only looks up after noticing the fanged face staring at her, hanging upsidedown from the tree. Whoever it is decended unnaturally quietly, but Rose refuses to give up any emotion.

"You don't seem very worried about the guards," the stranger smirks, grinning ear to ear. Her long black hair floats down a foot or so, a stark contrast to Rose's pale blonde hair. The woman's fangs poke ominously from her mouth.

"Please, these guards couldn't catch their own shadow," Rose responds. She meets the creatures eyes, and stares into a deep green abyss, darker than night.

"You don't seem very scared, human."

"That's probably because I'm not very scared," she replies, leaning back.

"You don't know who I am?"

"You mean you aren't a very strange dryad?"

The stranger is stuck for a moment, without an answer. Her guest laughs, and disolves into thick, black smoke, making the shade as dark as a moonless night. The blackness congeals into a very tall woman, her head resting just below the taller branches. She wears old, distinguished clothing, fitting some sort of noble. A large corset hugs her frame, and the dress under it is tight and ornate.

"Is this more satisfactory for you, before I drink you dry," The vampire asks.

"Much," is the only word Rose Lalonde offers. She still hasn't budged, and at this point, the vampire's curiosity is piqued.

"You are a wanted criminal are you," she asks, "Hiding from the silly guards?"

"It depends on who you ask. Everybody seems interested in the Lady Grimme," she gestures to herself with a flourish of her wrist.

"You must be pursued as well. You didn't show yourself until they left." Rose leaves the vampire with another charming smirk.

"Astute, little wizard-" Rose cuts her off with a sharp

"I am *not* a wizard." The vampire takes a step back, surprised by the sudden expression shown by the mage.

"Struck a nerve, have I, wizard?" She leans in close to rub it in.

"What makes you so different?"

"Everything. They dress like gaudy tyrants from a planet of harlequins, throwing their filthy beards around like unshowered would-be gods. They think magic can be tamed, controlled, and auctioned off. They have no respect for the danger sorcery can create. They believe the world is there to serve nothing other than their inflated intellects. They are fools pretending to be powerful."

"A deep nerve it seems," the vampire laughs. "I'll certainly enjoy draining it," she toys.

"That still doesn't explain why you are wanted."

"The wizards got what they deserved," Rose responds, ignoring the tall brooding woman's teases.

"Don't be so reticent, dear Lady Grimme." The fanged creature sits on the air, seemingly oblivious of gravity.

"Please do tell. Give me a taste of your life." Rose is silent, still smirking at the vampire. The tiny mage thinks she is the one in control here. The vampire is only playing with her, for now. Would they fight, Rose would be hopelessly outmatched by the tall, thin, creature of the night.

"You expect a lot from me when you haven't even told me your name."

"Ah, but names have power, don't you know, Rose Lalonde?" Rose doesn't move.

"Where did you get that name?" Rose feigns concern. She sits perfectly still, watching her fanged guest.

"We both have our secrets."

"But only one of us are any good at hiding them," Rose retorts. Behind her smirk is the ever so subtle presence of superiority.

"Hahahaha!," The black haired vampire has never seen such a bold face presented to her. She can't decide if she hates it, or enjoys it.

"You're a bold one, mage. No one has had such nerve to play games with me." The vampire licks her fangs, staring at this tiny mortal before her feast.

"Unlike the wizards, I can back up my prowess."

"Watch your choice of words, mortal. You can't move from my charm," she teases.

"And you have no way of hurting me even if you wanted to." The black-veiled vampire stands up to loom over Rose, growing closer as they continue their discourse. Rose is quite aware.

"Are you willing to bet on that?" The vampire freezes. Why is this puny mage so confident? She's fallen for every trap laid before her. Why does she still seem so smug? Suddenly, the tall vampire isn't so sure. She smiles, settling on a test for the human.

"Those charmed by my presence are only able to lie." She grins, waiting to see Rose's response.

"Clever. Either I play along, or reveal I am unaffected. And I assume you'll kill me if I don't, so I may as well." The little witch catches on fast, the vampire thinks. At least her meal is a smart one.

"Your death will be more fun this way, you'll see. So, let's begin. What are you really wanted for?"

"Wanton destruction of the kingdom, study of the dark arts, kidnapping, brainwashing, attempted treason, murder, arson, and tax evasion," Rose lists mindlessly off the top of her head as her eyes roll. She doesn't even try to hide her sarcasm. She's issuing a bet, a verbal puzzle, and it hasn't gone unnoticed.

"What of that was the truth," her fanged company frowns. No human could do so much.

"All of it." Rose gives that infuriating smirk again. It is a lie, but not one she can learn anything from. The vampire growls. Moments ago this wizard seemed worried about pitiful humans in thin metal plates, playing guard. Why now does she act so defiant?

"Would you call yourself powerful?"

"Only sometimes," Rose responds. It's impossible to garner the truth from her claims. Rose knows this. It's clear from her piercing, amethyst eyes, and that damned smug smile.

"Are you having fun with this," the vampire asks.

"I've never had this much fun." She responds, leaving loopholes like a genie.

"Will you tell me anything?"

"I'll tell you anything you ask," Rose teases.

"Where are you from?"

"Nowhere in particular." Rose seems to be enjoying this far too much.

"Why aren't you worried?!"

"My mother told me to be a brave girl." The vampire laughs for only a second. It fuels back into her growing anger.

"Why did you act like you could beat me?"

"I was stupid." The vampire scowls, how DARE she LIE about that. She IS a fool for challenging me, the creature thinks.

"Lie or not, I'm getting hungry. Do you have any last words?"

"I do not."

"So bold. What will save you when I bleed you dry?"

"Vodka will save me." Rose has to try not to laugh at her own joke.

"Do you fear me?!?"

"Actually, I enjoy this talk." The vampire raises a claw, only a foot from Rose's face. Then she stops.

This smile is different. There is sincerity in Rose's face. Then she stands and bows... The vampire shifts, standing straight. In an instant, the tension fades, bewilderment taking it's place.

"How did you escape my charm? How are you not enthralled, frozen?" The vampire stoops slightly, studying the human so below her.

"Imagine your surprise when you find out." The tallest female looks irritated again.

"Do you ever tire of speaking in riddles?" The vampire is getting tired of waiting. As if Rose can sense her impatience, she responds.

"Fine. ask me anything. I will give you an honest answer." The vampire studies her, thinking hard. This question will end her little game.

"Why are you still here?"

"I wanted to see you in person." The vampire is frozen. No one, not a single human in ten centuries has ever been this bold in front of such an ancient and powerful being. who *is* she? The creature's thoughts are interrupted by a sudden gust of wind. A massive, four-eyed black dragon lands beside the tree. Rose climbs atop it's back.

"Come Mutini, I think our guest has had enough for today." How dare she! The vampire lunges, but it is too late. The massive dragon has taken off.

The vampire stands, still reeling from the interaction she's just had with this so called Lady Grimme. She was confused at the conflicting information, but more infuriated that her meal was interrupted. Good food doesn't run away. She will find Rose again, and when she does-

the vampire's thoughts are interrupted. She kneels, and picks up a book the witch must have dropped. What a fool.

It takes the vampire a minute to process what she sees. It is the Grimoire of the Zoologically Dubious, written by Abdul Alhazred. The dark arts- was this witch serious when she said she studied the dark arts? There is a bookmark inside, and the vampire opens the book to the marked page. Inside is an illustration of her own face. Kanaya Maryam, the Rainbow Drinker. Listed is her age, powers, and very nature, indiscernable to all but the most foolish humans who dare translate it's ancient text. Below it all, is the mage's signature, "RL".

The vampire realises Rose left this behind on purpose. She had everything planned the second they met, she may even have planned their meeting. She was prepared for every charm, every game, and for her eventual escape. Every answer was planned, every statement calculated, and every move was thought ahead of time. And the vampire fell for it.

She looks up at the fleeting shadow in the air. Never in her entire unnatual life had she met someone quite like Rose Lalonde. But now, she was thirsty for more.

@rosemarymonth2021 Here is my story for the Fantasy prompt

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing 83 Review

guess who isn't weeks late this time. my opinion of the series is going up a little bit. it's still not great, but i'm not actively put off by it anymore the way i was after 81. not going to tag as spoilers, but be warned that they are under the cut

i’m sure you all are well aware of this but now, but dear god i love bruno redondo’s art. like, an unhealthy amount. the pink and blue is getting to be a theme with either him or just this run, but i am definitely enjoying it. the movement in this cover is clearly obvious, but well done. you recoznize right off the bat that the cover was drawn to drag your eyes down the page until you get to the bottom, but you enjoy the whole ride there. 

also, redondo’s way of drawing a character in stages of action so we can see just how much they’re doing in a split second of movement is quickly becoming something i like to see drawn with dick, and any other character that has that sort of ease of movement and body sense, like cass or sin or maybe a super. 

and he’s in action the entire time! there’s shot drawn just to show off a shirtless comic book character, the way nightwing is so often subjected to. he’s shirtless because he’s changing his clothes, and that’s all we see, no more and no less. very practical, very well done. i like it.

he looks so cute right here oh my god. the little squint, the hair curls. it’s adorable.

but also like. unless melinda has specifically outfitted the door spyhole so that the person on the other side can’t see dick looking through it (and in all honesty she might have) then everyone on the other side can see dick looking through that door. 

bringing your attention back to the “i can’t see melinda’s fbi file oh no!! it’s redacted!! whatever can we do!!” stupidity. redacted files are child’s play for oracle, and definitely doable for both dick and bruce. so that’s bullshit.

now, melinda apparently grew up with the maroni family, then took down part of the family from the inside. the maroni family is a large and notable presence in gotham, one that bruce pays a respectable amount of attention to. he definitely would have grown suspicious when two members of the maroni family were taken down, and with some investigation, he would have discovered melinda’s plan. and it should go without saying that the majority of things you see batman doing? dick can do it too.

it’s not so much that i don’t like how clever the villains/antiheroes are getting. i don’t like how dc heroes are increasingly written as less intelligent. they seem to be relying on pure fighting skills or luck, which may be the case for a couple heroes, but has never been the case for most of dc’s big name heroes, the bat family included. it’s irritating to me to see this sort of stuff pop up as a major plot point when i know that, if dick or bruce had been written with the amount of skill and power that they canonically possess, this entire mess would have been sorted out years ago.

unrelated but dick and melinda have the same hair

this may just be me, but i was always under the impression that dick doesn’t really have a “double life???”

yes, he’s talented enough to create enough differences between robin/nightwing and dick grayson’s mannerisms, way of movement, voices, and speech patterns so that it’s very difficult to put the two together.

but nightwing has never been separate from dick grayson, not the way bruce and batman is. he’s always leaned more towards clark in that aspect: his hero persona is an exaggerated, stately, larger-than-life version of who he really is. there’s no second persona, no real “dick grayson identity” and “nightwing identity.” they’re the same person with the same goals, ideas, and skills. one just pretends to abide by the law, and one gives up pretense of that.

oh good thank god. if he’d trusted her right off the bat (hehe. bat.) i would have slapped him upside the head. at least he’s still got instincts.

gosh the colouring on this is cool. the red has enough purple and pink tones to it that it doesn’t abruptly ruin the tone of the artwork. but it’s definitely glaring enough to take the reader outside of this personal moment they had slipped into between dick and melinda, to put them back in the present where they’re reminded that oh yea there are people hunting dick down. 

the next panel keeps this up too, in a less severe way. melinda’s bodyguard shows up (i forgot her name sorry :[ ) and subtly places us in the middle of an action scene rather than a private, personal scene.

laughing so fucking hard have our little vigilantes grown so accustomed to breaking into places that it doesn’t even register as a crime anymore??? tim coming in through the fire escape to pick bernard up for their date and being very much confused as to why bernard is freaking out.

i really like melinda’s shirt and now despite all the work i have to do and the fucking conference i have to host on monday i want to spend hours scrolling through clothing shops online trying to find this shirt. the mock neck/neckline is so cool i want it

so roland just assumes that a very dangerous vigilante who is highly talented in combat and a very dangerous bodyguard who is also highly talented in combat had a fight that ended with this very dangerous bodyguard being tied up and she looks completely fine? roland just assumes that her having no visible wounds or bruises means that they got into a fight and she lost that easily? uh. aight then

dick what are you doing. legitimately what the fuck are you doing. why are you posing oh my god. you are injured and tired and in absolutely no position to go hand to hand with one of main enemies. jesus christ run away or head to lower ground or something. don’t just stand around letting the floodlights show exactly where you are.

i don’t understand what he’s trying to do here??? blockbuster fully bought the story that dick fought them both, won, tried to get info out of them and failed, then hightailed it out of there. he didn’t have to draw roland out for a fight.

but it does look cool. the way the light just highlights his silhouette and the blue parts of his costume does look badass. he does get style points in my book for this.

w h a t  d i d  i  f u c k i n g  t e l l  y o u ,  d i c k ?

very classic superhero line and it does sound like something dick would say in a fit of righteous rage but also it makes me laugh so hard because all vigilantes think they’re so powerful that the law doesn’t apply to them. dick vigilantism is illegal. you’re acting above the law and pretending it doesn’t apply to you. hypocritical much?

it happens so often in superhero movies, tv shows, comics, whatever and it makes me giggle every damn time.

pretty decent comeback but before i start seeing people writing blockbuster as a thug i’m going to remind you that he made a deal with a demon for genius level intellect. if this turns into another bane situation i’m going to be a little miffed. he’s a smart man, which makes him a dangerous and infinitely more interesting enemy for nightwing.

this is so horribly in character i want to scream. (or. at least. it lines up with one of the versions of nightwing i have in my head.) he’s running right towards the bullets, miraculously doesn’t get shot, while making a sort-of pun. i hate this so much. i love him.

this is cool. this art is really really cool.

he leaped from a building right towards a helicopter that’s actively shooting at him, but none of the bullets are touching him. none of the corruption of the city can touch him no matter how hard it tries, because he’s too good to be corrupted. Comic Book Logic Can Be Good Sometimes Actually.

batman’s belt what??? swiss army knife who?? sorry, i only know nightwing’s bright blue escrima.

this is one of my favourite things about heroes with exceptional abilities, even more so if the hero is human. the things they can do are so far beyond the realm of normal human abilities that it’s equal parts terrifying and awe-inspiring every time they act.

he just used modified grappling wires to hook to the door of a moving helicopter, swung around the helicopter safely without hitting the blades, gained exactly the right momentum to swing upward again right through the opening of helicopter, then fought and tied up the men before they had any idea what was happening. that’s near impossible to do.

it’s stuff like this where i just sort of sigh in contentment. no matter how many times they leave out dick’s detective skills or conveniently forget that he’s actually a master planner and team leader and make him out to be this forgetful dude who makes everything up on the fly because of his “circus roots,” at least they won’t ever take away dick’s sheer physical ability honed to perfection. 

the art, too! in a few panels, dick’s drawn a little lightened or blurred. he’s moving so quickly and fighting so efficiently that he can barely be seen by the enemy. he’s got perfect form all the way through.

and THIS!

there was a helicopter that had five men shooting at him with what looks like machine guns. most people would be dead. some would run away, and be nimble enough to survive without fatal hits. there are very few people, even in fucking comic books, who can look at that hopeless situation and turn it around so quickly and thoroughly that he benefits from it instead.

i just. love nightwing.

it was funny the first time as a comic reader aware of the meme. it’s really not anymore. why the hell would you, in universe, be wearing a shirt that has a picture of your boyfriend being hit in the face by his father. 

okay that was funny. 

look at lil bitewing, so concerned for her human!!! love her sm. 

also a question as to the timeline of things. is nightwing happening before or after urban legends? 

i was so distracted by dick wearing a robe and briefs and nothing else that i didn’t register the second part until later. he slept for two days?? babs, baby, he recently had a very traumatic brain injury. why do you sound so nonchalant?

@TIM X COFFEE SHIPPERS GET FUCCCCKKKKEEDDDDD

ngl i totally forgot about that dude oops

this comic is giving so many reaction pictures. you know how you always use the worst possible picture of your friend for your friend’s contact picture? i’m just getting so many of these.

leslie!!! the titans!!! lucius!!! dick going to go see old friends!!!! the titans!!! this part made me so irrationally happy it really did. gar being the one to just. offer dick solutions with open arms. this was the best

i wish i could just copy and paste this entire scene, but that would take up way too much space, so i’m just going to talk about it instead. 

you gave me my name, nightwing, and you gave me some of the best advice i’ve received in my life: beautiful little throwback to nightwing’s origin. you’d be surprised at the amount of people who don’t know where the name came from, or who don’t know how much clark means to dick. and the fact that dick still looks up to clark as a hero, recognizes that clark isn’t always perfect and yet continues to hold him in such high esteem, and still looks back on advice that clark gave him fondly just warmed my heart so much.

for a man who has fearlessly stood up to darkseid, bruce will do a lot to avoid a conversation: “grrr. i’m the BATMAN. i’m so DARK and MYSTERIOUS. nobody knows the true me. no one ever will. i will be LONELY for the rest of my CURSED LIFE. such is the price of a hero. ignore my farmer himbo husband in the background”

but i don’t think there’s anything heroic about being a billionaire: another nod to how much dick follows clark’s example rather than bruce. yes, this was a very poignant and important criticism, and i think it’s wonderful that this was published in a pretty popular comic book. but the thing is, there is a way to be a heroic billionaire, but only in fictional universes. the way bruce, ollie, t’challa only ever use their wealth to help people. they donate massive amounts of money to charities that they themselves create so they know exactly how the money is being used. they hire people who aren’t likely to get jobs anywhere else and pay them much more than what a base living wage is. they use their power to help push progressive laws and social change. they are helping. 

dick doesn’t fully see it that way. he spent more than half his childhood the son of a billionaire, but still believes that one could be more heroic when one doesn’t have obscene amounts of wealth. whose example do you think he followed to come to that conclusion?

superman looked up to alfred pennyworth?: i mean yea alfred may have been a wildly irresponsible guardian and one hell of an enabler but goddamn if he didn’t love his kid.

you don’t need my input. you’ve thought it all through: ooooooh this line made me grin. for so long, dick’s treated clark as a mentor and a guiding figure. he’s still seen as a kid, an up and coming, snot-nosed titan with dreams of a better world. clark still thinks of him as a kid, despite watching him grow up. but this little line was something i think dick needed sorely to hear. he doesn’t need anyone’s guiding hand on his shoulder, he doesn’t need to ask for permission. he doesn’t need clark to support him the way he did when he was a teenager. he’s all grown up now, and he doesn’t need clark’s help. i imagine it was a bit of a surprise for dick to hear that. 

honestly, i couldn’t think of a better role model: ohhh but it doesn’t stop there. clark just straight up turns the tables on dick. imagine you’re dick, and you’ve looked up to this one hero your entire life, and then one day he turns to you and says that he thinks you’re so kind and smart and worthy of a person that he wants you to mentor his son!? goes to show just how much clark trusts dick.

i swear to god dick probably cries every time he hears clark compliment him because bruce is so rare and sparing with his praise that clark giving him the slightest hint of approval is just a dopamine rush.

also, now deathstroke and superman have both asked nightwing to mentor their kids. the juxtaposition is fuckin hysterical. imagine either of their reactions when they realize what kind of company they’re with

lets talk colours for a second, because i absolutely adore how classic colour tropes have been subverted in this comic, and in this general run really.

warm tones have usually (usually, not always) been associated with light and comfort and friendship and,,,,,well,,,warmth. whereas cool tones are usually used to unsettle, or make a scene seem colder and put the reader on edge. this varies if a comic only uses cool tones, or only uses warm tones, but if a comic uses both, this is generally well-used.

that isn’t the case in this run.

dark red, orange, and other warm tones have been used to symbolize danger, action, attacks. hot pink isn’t usually included in this colour group, but it’s definitely part of it in this case. in contrast, scenes that have cool colours give us the impression of slipping into a comfortable, calm scene with babs, tim, the titans, and other allies. even the beginning scene with superman has this blue, but then it transitions into something more golden coloured. dawn broke over dick, as his new idea came to light, and that was reflected in the art (and the sunrise setting.)

have there ever been times when dick’s longed for the comfort of his mask because he didn’t feel confident as dick grayson? i can’t think of any. i may be wrong, but this struck me as pretty ooc.

am i just??? gay and reading this all wrong??

cause i was under the impression that when someone says they are grateful for your friendship you don’t immediately kiss them. 

or is this like. normal straight mating rituals.

i mean he’s smiling afterward but still babs aren’t you supposed to at least make sure it’s okay first? you guys broke up a while back after you said something along the lines of “i want to be coworkers with you and nothing more because i don’t trust you or feel comfortable around you as a civilian anymore.” like lmao after you say something like that to someone i would assume that you don’t have the permission to just kiss them whenever you want.

show of hands who else got real sad when they realized dick was talking about himself in this.

sure, he could be referencing the things he’s seen blockbuster pull, and the children on the streets. but “i’ve seen money used for enforcement,” sounds a little too close to dick’s entire life being destroyed by one man threatening the circus to pay protection money for me to completely ignore. and “i’ve seen the poorest and most vulnerable blamed and punished rather than assisted” becomes a lot worse when you remember dick was thrown in juvie for a couple months until bruce was able to obtain legal guardianship, and in there, not a authority figure believed him when he told them his parents were murdered.

he’s lived this before.

a. mother. fucking. typo.

fucking why

i mean i’ve stated my distaste for the batfamily groupchat before but like. this is reaching new levels of ridiculousness. jason sounds like he was written by a fanfic writer. tim sounds like he was written by a fanfic writer. steph sounds like she was written by someone who doesn’t know the first thing about steph and wanted to include her for “family points!!!!!” damian’s supposed to be completely off the grid, and everyone’s searching for him. i do love the way cass texts tho.

well god fuck now i’m crying

dick got a phone call, a sorry, and a thank you out of bruce. i feel so much secondhand happiness for him, if that’s a thing. we’ll just ignore the way bruce looks ugly af and focus on the good parts okay?

and again with the colour symbolism here!

i’m either going to love this or hate this. who knows, we’ll see.

something something hearts something something pink is an evil colour something something. i need to know more about this guy but there’s definitely symbolism there. 

is it just me or does this dude look like the backstabbing traitorous absolutely motherfucking piece of shit villain that killed tadashi hamada in big hero 6?

~~

taggggg list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan  @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @bikoncon @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption​ @capricorn-stark​ @batshit-birds​ @comics-observer @buticaaba​ 

[copperpieceharlot]

Bud I’m sorry to swing into your inbox uninvited like this but my soul is having an OOTS renaissance thanks to your content in the tag and did you say Leverage AU

haha holy SHIT this got Long. but yes. i’ve been. Thinking. (also literally Never feel like you have to apologize for sending me messages. i was Hoping someone would ask me about this. now i have an Excuse to share EVERYTHING ive written abt it :3)

Obviously, Roy is the leader/brains of the outfit. He grew up having some Strong Opinions abt what’s Legal versus what’s Right due to tragic backstory involving the death of his little brother which was definitely SOMEONE’S fault for negligence but since there technically wasn’t any illegal behavior, there were no consequences for it. Also he’s still angry at his dad bc he thinks his dad is also partly culpable (and also also just a dick). He’s the Moral Backbone of the team (alongside Durkon, more on that later) in basically the same way Nate was in og Leverage. He’s actually not the best at figuring out what people want (that’s Haley and, shockingly, occasionally Elan), but once he has that info, he is the absolute best at figuring out the ideal plan of attack to use in any given case.

Haley is still a thief. I mean she maps to Parker almost PERFECTLY. Her dad was a thief & a conman, her mom wasn’t but knew about it and mostly accepted it, but she died tragically in a mugging gone wrong or smth, which made Ian crank the paranoia WAY up and taught Haley to do the same in the name of “safety”. Let’s keep the “Ian is in Trouble and Haley needs money, Fast” which is why she signs on to the first job in the first place. She’s less acrobatic than Parker, tending towards finding (or making) weak spots in security, but she can still make a tumble check when she needs to.

Elan is the grifter who is somehow an Idiot but also not???? It baffles everyone. When he’s playing a part for a con, he’s FLAWLESS, but then the rest of the time he’s just. No Thoughts Head Empty. He probably gets lured in initially because he’s decided to try his hand at being part of a full team, rather than the two-man cons he’s been running that invariably end w his partner conning him as well and stealing half of his take. Also he likes the idea of being Crime Friends. He’s that tweet where it’s like, Roy: “after the heist is over, we split up and never communicate again” / Elan: [about to unveil his Crime Buddies Forever Friendship Quilt Puppets]: “never?”

Vaarsuvius is the hacker/gadget person. They have a Vaguely Snobby Yet Unidentifiable accent, dyed(?) purple hair (nobody has ever seen their roots) and nobody knows who they “really” are or where they came from, but they’re good at what they do so everyone just accepts the mystery. They probably got suckered into the team by their initial employer (who I’ll get to Eventually, lol) framing it as a challenge to their intellect, like, “oh, I see, you’re not smart enough to make this team work for you...” to which they were like Fucking Watch Me and also melted his computer. Anyways. They are joined (digitally) by their Intrepid Friend And Co-Conspirator (his words, not theirs), a fellow hacker known only as Blackwing, or, on certain forums, Blackwing_Bird. (In the first season, V only occasionally references him when saying they’re “calling in extra help” or smth for a particularly complex hack job. He starts showing up a little more in s2 and eventually by the start of s4 is a regular & established presence, but only appears as actions in a computer interface or output.) Elan is convinced he’s an AI, Belkar doesn’t think he actually exists, Haley pretends she doesn’t think he exists, and Durkon and Roy try not to think about it too hard, as long as B and V still get the job done.

Belkar is the hitter. He is on the team bc their initial employer got him out of jail for it. He doesn’t have a tragic backstory, he just likes doing violent crimes. As the series progresses, he grows some empathy & stuff, but really only for people who actually deserve it. Assholes still get decked. It’s all very touching. (Also he has dwarfism caused by achondroplasia. It doesn’t actually bother him and is useful in fights bc his opponents frequently have no fucking clue how to approach him, but he likes Pretending to take offense at stupid things just to see how far he can go with it.)

Aaaand last but not least, Durkon is the least involved member of the team. He’s actually a career criminal and Roy’s mentor, and wasn’t a member of the initial team that [redacted, I’ll tell you later, PROMISE] put together for a couple of reasons, the main one being that he’s Officially retired in order to spend more time with his family, which consists of his mom, his friend (not girlfriend) Hilgya, baby Kudzu, and a truly stunning number of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Roy frequently calls or visits him for advice and he Occasionally shows up to help out on local jobs, but generally he avoids doing crime if he can (as part of a deal with Hilgya, who is also a career criminal; basically, they’ve both cut back on the crime in order to provide a more stable home environment for Kudzu. But sometimes, you gotta do a little crime, and in those cases, Sigdi enjoys spending time w her grandson.)

NOW. THE BIG REVEAL YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR. Who got the team together in the first place?!

The answer: Lord Shojo (or whatever Normal Person Name you want to assign him). Now this is where it gets tricky: he had them do a thing that they thought was good, THEN they thought it was BAD, but then when they confronted him he revealed that it Appearing to be bad was actually a test of character and would they consider working as basically internal investigators for him? But then he had a heart attack, so, rip. But THEN it turned out that he’d left them a bunch of money anyway and they were all feeling kind of Inspired so they formed the Order of the Stick, LLC (which, no, i am not coming up with a new name, actually, because I just don’t care. someone else can come up w a justification for that name, tho, i’m sure it’s possible). Also Miko was there and was unhappy abt their actions, and also their general existence.

Moving on. Villains!

Redcloak is the Sterling replacement, because that DEEPLY amuses me.

Xykon is a season-long main villain, probably one that Redcloak finds himself working for but then “teams up with” (read: blackmails) the Order to bring him down bc even Redcloak finds Xykon distasteful. That’s season 3, let’s say.

Tarquin is another season villain, say season 2. Nale probably shows up pretty early in s1, actually, as another recurring antagonist like Sterling but uh. Less good at it. Anyways the s2 final 3 eps deal with them (accidentally) discovering that Tarquin runs some Evil Empire Company, then trying to outplay him and take him down. Idk if Nale still dies in this version tbh.

Tsukiko is a one-off s1 villain who returns briefly in s4 alongside Miko, who has gone well and truly off the rails.

Season 1 finale has to do w Roy finally getting Vengeance for his little brother.

The vampire squad is the s4 finale villain who do smth terrible to Durkon and then get the Mother Of All Revenge served up to them by the Order.

I envision the show as being 5 seasons (like og Leverage) but I’m not going to sketch out s5 because I think it should be based off whatever happens in the current story arc, possibly involving some legacy of the OotSquiggle.

Other stuff!

The Order of the Squiggle is a legendary criminal team from the 60s who stole a BUNCH of famous shit & then proceeded to legendarily implode. This has no bearing on the plot I’ve sketched out, I just think it’s fun.

The Sapphire Guard members should probably be reworked as FBI. I don’t care about most of them but I do think that Lien and O-Chul could be like, FBI agents who Choose to look the other way while the Order does their very-much-not-legal-but-still-fair Justice Crime, and maybe even help them out on occasion.

So, the Final season-by-season outline, based on everything I’ve written so far:

s1 e1: getting the team together, doing a con for Shojo, then at the end he dies and the gang is like “dang what now?" and intend to split up except then they Don’t.

mid-s1: Nale shows up and tries to trick the Order, but then gets beat like a drum.

late s1: Tsukiko is an underling of the Villain Of The Week, winds up in police custody. But She’ll Be Back.

s1 finale: Roy’s Vengeance: The Vengeaning. also we meet Redcloak as an antagonist.

s2 e1: the truth abt Haley’s father comes out

early s2: The Two Live Crews Job but it’s the Order vs the Linear Guild and the Linear Guild ARE all bad guys.

mid-s2: Redcloak returns. ugh.

late s2: the sapphire guard FBI makes its first appearance, hello O-Chul and Lien.

s2 pre-finale: once again they’re in conflict w Nale over smth, he spends the whole episodes making Cryptic Remarks, they basically beat him (like a drum!) but then the stinger at the end is that Tarquin reveals himself and Elan is like “Dad?!”, roll credits.

s2 finale, part 1: Elan is hanging out w Tarquin bc he’s DEEP in Denial, the Rest of the team tries to take Tarquin down, but it doesn’t work.

s2 finale, part 2: Elan finally gets a clue and they manage to beat Tarquin. still haven’t decided if Nale dies or not, but I’m leaning towards yes. also they rescue Haley’s dad.

s3 e1: fuck dude idk.

early s3: Redcloak shows up, AGAIN, everyone groans. he has blackmail on them, he wants them to take Xykon down.

mid s3: The Rashomon Job but it’s about stealing the Talisman of Dorukan and it turns out that Nale was there too (“oh!” Elan says. “I was wondering why I looked so weird in all those mirrors! But it wasn’t my reflection, it was Nale’s!” “Sweetie, that wasn’t Nale’s reflection,” says Haley. “Huh,” says Elan, “so the mirrors were broken?”, cue eye rolling from everyone else.), and the Successful thief was Hilgya, who’d nabbed it from the owner before it even went on display.

s3 finale: they beat Xykon, actually factually, because he deserves to get his ass Thoroughly kicked, even if only in AU form. Lien and O-Chul are there, so are some other less helpful FBI people. There’s a bit where O-Chul Exact Wordses his way out of telling his superiors about the Order’s less legal activities without technically lying. King shit.

s4 e1: doesn’t really matter. maybe smth to do w some legacy of Tarquin’s company to set up the drama w Malack & Durkon later.

early s4: Durkon gets SENT TO PRISON. Malack approaches the Order abt this because sure they have Different Ethics but they’re still Friends. (Roy is surprised and a little hurt that he’s never heard of Malack, but he ignores that in favor of Let’s Get Whatever Fuckers Did This To Our Friend.)

immediately after that: Miko and Tsukiko return as a Team, preventing the Order from working on the Durkon situation

mid s4: Redcloak makes another unexpected & unwelcome appearance but he’s maybe a little less of a dick? the Order collaborates with Malack & his Crime Buddies (hello, Vector Legion) to pull one over on him tho, because “less of a dick” does not mean “a pleasant or decent person”, and also he was mean abt Durkon being in jail, so he totally deserved it. he still gets whatever he wanted tho, just takes a blow to his pride. also prevents the Order from helping Durkon. they’re having a LOT of setbacks wonder why that could be, not to make sure the season fills its whole length or anything, no sirree

s4 finale: something something taking down the organization, headed by Hel (yes that’s her real name), which framed Durkon for their Big Crime. Durkon goes free and Extra Firmly retires, For Good, He Swears, but says he “met someone new” who might be an asset.

s5 e1: minrah joins the team! and the episode is set in like, somewhere really snowy. that’s all i got.

the rest of s5: don’t know, don’t care, it’s open-ended until the comic finishes up.

[critical-thinking-is-mandatory]

miraculous ladybug and smart characters. 

there’s actually quite a few smart characters in miraculous ladybug, but the only one we’re really made to believe is smart is max.

this got very long so i’m putting it under a cut.

max kante. there’s no denying that he’s smart, but if you’re writing a smart character and you decide to make them like max well....you’ve misunderstood what makes a person smart.

what does max do to ‘prove’ that he’s smart?

well he:

lists percentages of probability

recalls obscure facts

made an AI robot friend

uses big words

i’ve probably missed something but this is how we’re shown that max is smart. and well it’s not wrong, you do need to be smart to make such a sophisticated AI as markov but...

spouting exact probabilities and facts doesn’t actually make you smart.

for starters, recalling facts is an aspect of memory not understanding, and understanding concepts is a better indicator of intelligence than memorising concepts.

my senior physics teacher really liked to make a point of this by letting us take our own formula sheets into exams. the kicker was that we only had to apply our understanding of the formulas, not whether or not we could remember them in the first place.

as for percentage probability, well, i’ve only touched on probability in my university career but modelling the probability of real life situations includes a lot more complexity and accounting for error than is really possible from just whacking a few numbers into a calculator.

and the big words, well. most often people who use big words during casual conversation are usually people pretending that they’re smarter than they actually are. 

basically, max is your stereotypical Smart Character TM, and like most stereotypes, there’s a lot of wrong information floating around about said character type. 

(just an FYI this is not to say that stereotypes about smart people are in anyway as harmful as stereotypes based on race, gender, sexuality, or neurodivergent people. this is just an examination of what people get wrong with smart characters.)

so, if that’s wrong, and smart people don’t all list facts and percentage probability, and use big words and make robot friends, how can we know a character is smart then?

well, ‘smart’ is a lot more complicated than media, especially kids media, likes to present it as. we’re always led to believe that a character (and thus real life people) are only smart if they excel in STEM subject areas. so smart characters speak in technobabble, are really good at programming and robotics and physics and chemistry, always get the best grades in school, and so on and so forth.

and that’s just not true.

there’s so much more to being smart than maths and ‘hard sciences’ and good grades.

for starters, the grading system used by schools and tertiary education systems is biased towards students who can recall facts aka people with good memories and people who have dozens of spare hours to spend studying.

now, there are tons of reasons for people to have difficulties recalling facts. the first is that memorising things is hard. this goes doubly so for people with memory problems associated with mental illness or neurodivergence or certain disabilities.

on the second point, you might notice that students at private schools (upper-middle to upper class students) tend to have better grades. going off of the ‘better grades = smarter people’ logic that means rich people are smarter than poor people. i shouldn’t have to explain how that’s bad.

(newsflash: it’s also not true. kids from wealthier families don’t have to spend their spare time at work and their parents can afford private tutors and teachers at private schools tend to be held to higher standards.)

as for being good at STEM subjects, i’m going to let you guys in on a little secret. it comes from practice. you don’t have to be naturally gifted in maths to excel at it. being as i call it, STEM brained versus humanities brained, may make some of the concepts easier to understand initially but it’s really not a make-or-break situation.

(the girl in my grade in high school who got the highest marks for advanced maths did so out of hard work alone. she’s very smart, but humanities oriented. my little sister got a state prize for her scores in physics, and let me tell you, maths does not come easy to her.)

so, if it’s not good grades, or being good at STEM, or having robot sidekicks, or speaking technobabble, what does make a character/person smart?

well it’s about the thought process.

questioning, weighing options, using logic to get the most reward with the least risk.

this site here (springhole.net) is an excellent resource for writing and roleplaying and also has a more in-depth walk-through of how smart people and characters work.

smart people and smart characters tend to, you guessed it, use their heads. they pay attention, and often notice details that other people miss. 

all of these things are actually pretty subtle (and we all know the miraculous creators can’t do subtlety) so we’re actually seeing a lot more smart characters in miraculous than we’re being led to believe.

like i said before, most obvious is max. max’s intelligence is frequently shown to us with all the grace of a frying pan to the ear. less obvious but still obvious enough that every corner of the fandom has noticed are marinette and adrien.

i’ll get to marinette in a minute, but for now we’ll talk about adrien.

adrien is, as far as i can recall seeing in canon, stated to get good grades. correct me if i’m wrong of course, but that’s the only thing i can think of to prove adrien as smart. getting good grades is one of the main stereotypes about smart people so check one for adrien.

adrien is also obscenely wealthy and has a controlling father with high expectations so, as far as his grades go, i doubt it’s down to any natural gifts of superior intellect.

like i said before, people with money have access to all the best resources, the best teachers, the best tutors, and of course time. adrien’s days are scheduled by nathalie, and with gabriel’s expectations of perfection i very much doubt she’d be skimping on adrien’s study time.

so, adrien’s good grades: probably not actually an indicator of intelligence, but of practice.

marinette is also stated to get good grades but that alone isn’t the only proof we get of her being smart. marinette is constantly coming up with plans, making things, is clever enough to leave herself a clue in oblivio to get help, as well as figure out that she and adrien were actually superheroes, and she’s proven to have a high level of emotional intelligence (not necessarily an indicator of overall intelligence and more linked to empathy but the point still stands).

marinette’s good grades we’ve seen clearly come from practice, but there are so many other ways she proves herself to be smart.

alya is one character that certainly gets written off as being dumb by the fandom, when actually, i doubt she is.

canon hasn’t done alya or the rest of the characters any favours by doing things like having lila be a pretty average liar, and making alya think chloe was ladybug in lady wifi, but when she and other characters aren’t being dumbed down because that’s the only way the creators know how to make the plot work, she’s actually pretty clever.

alya knows how clumsy marinette can be so she made a copy of the important video of ladybug before showing it to marinette, the ladyblog is really popular so alya’s clearly got an understanding of how to make her writing appealing to an audience, and we see in the ladybug episode that alya takes a methodical approach to try and clear marinette’s name.

so it’s not obvious, and whoever is writing the show needs some serious help to not make everyone look stupid because their villain isn’t competent enough, but alya is smart. we’re just not being led along by the nose and having the fact shoved in our faces.

there are other characters too, nino, nathalie, nathaniel, i’d say juleka and luka too probably but i’m not going to go into them right now.

what i’m trying to say is: smart characters aren’t always obvious and smart people don’t usually look like the smart people in cartoons. there are a lot more smart characters in ml than you probably realise, just like in real life. good at STEM doesn’t equal smart! and if you have to make your usual characters dumb to make your villain/plot point work you’re not as good a writer as you think you are.

[juniorgman187]

52 Pickup (Spencer Reid Imagine)

Summary: What could’ve happened if Austin (the bartender from season 4, episode 9: 52 pickup) and Spencer reunited. 

Couple: Fem!Character x Spencer Reid Category: Fluff Content Warning: allusions to violence, kidnapping Word Count: 2.6k 

DISCLAIMER: The reason this piece is so choppy is because it was originally a screenplay, so it was written quite bluntly and straightforward - as a screenplay should be written - but I revised it because I didn’t like it as a screenplay.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Reid is working on a geographical profile for their current case. Sitting beside him is a concentrated Garcia.

“And where have you been? On a date? A secret rendezvous?” She shimmies her shoulders to tease Reid. 

“No, actually. I went to that cafe by the beach.”

“Still doesn’t explain why it took two hours. If you brought a book - which I know you did - you would’ve only spent like 30 minutes there - tops. Spill.”

“Do you remember the 2008 case in Atlanta?”

Garcia pauses for a while. “You may have an excellent memory or whatever it’s called -”

Spencer interrupts. “Eidetic.” 

“Yeah, that, but I don’t. Remind me again.”

“His name was Robert Parker. He disemboweled women and forced them to clean it up before killing them.” 

"Mmm, okay and what about him?”

“The girl who served me coffee, Austin - we saved her the night we caught him. Yeah, apparently, she quit being a bartender and came here to California to start over.” 

"I’ve never actually run into a previous victim that we saved before! Did she get all PTSD?” Garcia asks with a little too much zeal than the situation warranted. 

"Quite the opposite actually. She was glad to see me. She’s been looking for me since the rescue so she could thank me in person for saving her.”

“Aww did she thank you with a big hug or like a free coffee? Oh that reminds me where’s JJ? She was supposed to bring me coffee earlier.” 

“Um, I think Hotch sent her and Morgan to Cecilia Bassett’s parent’s house. And, no, she didn’t thank me.” The second part of his sentence comes off as an after thought since he’s too preoccupied flipping through his file. 

“Wait what? Why? I thought her whole point was to thank you.”

“She’s saving her ‘thank you’ for when we see each other again.”

“Ooo, are Austin and Spencer gonna sit in a tree and K-I-S -”

He cuts her off promptly. “She asked me if I believed in fate and meant to be. I told her I believe in coincidences. Then she started to explain how seeing me again couldn’t just be a coincidence, so I told her if she saw me again at any point during the time we’re here, I would admit that it might be fate after all. But if we don’t see each other, then it really was just a coincidence.”

Garcia is lost. “Wait, so you don’t want to see Austin again?”

JJ and Morgan enter. 

“Austin?” JJ curiously asks. 

"Oh, does Pretty Boy have a girlfriend?”

“Actually I have a sunburn. How does anybody live here? I can’t go out for a second with turning red.” He deflects. 

“Austin is the girl that served Reid coffee today and recognized him from when he saved her in 2008. Apparently, during the two hours he was gone, they made a bet that if they see each other again it’s fate, but Boy Wonder doesn’t believe in fate and is hoping they never see each other again so he can be right. Now where’s my coffee?” 

"Oh, my bad - Hotch sent us to Cecilia’s parent’s house before I had to the chance to get it.”

“I’ll go get a cup for you, Baby Girl.” Derek leaves the room, but not before giving Garcia a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

JJ takes a seat beside the pair. 

“So Spence, let me get this straight, you’re hoping to never see her again?”

"I didn’t say that, I said that if I didn’t see her within the three days we’re here then it wasn’t fate after all.”

“Oh so you do want to see her? Just not in the next 72 hours?”

“I didn’t say that either.” 

“What is it? Are you afraid of catching feelings for her?” JJ teases. 

“No what I’m afraid of is what’s going to happen to Cecilia Bassett if I don’t figure out our unsub’s comfort zone.”

"You’ve been working on that since Morgan and I left. You can’t focus, can you?” JJ mischievously grins.

Garcia has to join in now. “Aww, is the thought of Austin distracting you?” 

“No, I’m distracted by my raging sunburn and this unnecessarily long conversation about her.”

“Alright, if you say so. I’ll go find some aloe you can put on your burn.” JJ pats his back and exits the room. 

Garcia eagerly turns to him as soon as JJ’s out of range. “Do you actually have a sunburn?”

"No, of course not. I’ve been applying sunscreen on every hour. I just needed her to leave so I could work on this.”

Garcia pouts a little out of pity for Reid. “It’s okay, you know. If you like this girl. We’re just giving you a hard time because we love ya.” 

Spencer stops working on the map and sighs. “I don’t like her. I just . . . Everyday I work in this job, people question my intellect. Either because I’m too young or because there’s no way I could actually know all that I do, but she didn’t do either of those things. She never questioned me. She sincerely believed in me. And I guess, I . . . I just forgot what that felt like. You know she even laughed at my stupid joke?” 

Garcia tilts her head understandingly. “I never knew you felt that way.”

"All my life, all I’ve ever had is my intelligence. I didn’t have friends, or sports, just my mom and my mind. And still, the one thing I have that’s all mine - the one thing I’m good at - is always invalidated by my age or even the idea that because my mom has schizophrenia I must have a genetic mental illness or that because I didn’t have friends I must been socially inept. But she put me in the highest regard - the man who saved her. The man who was strong, and brave, and smart. All the things I want to be but am not.”

Reid gives a small smile and looks up at a teary eyed Garcia, before looking straight down and resuming his work on the profile. 

“You know, for the record, I think you’re all those things and more.” Garcia tousles Reid’s hair, and he sheepishly combs it back into place, smiling. 

“Oh and, I found the comfort zone.” He adds. 

. . .

It’s nighttime now and Freddy, Austin’s manager, and Austin are closing up the cafe. 

“Sorry you had to work overtime, today. I tried calling Cece, but no answer. I hope she’s alright.” Freddy says to Austin.

“I think I’m gonna go check on her. Her apartment is on my way home so I’ll let you know how it goes.” Austin replies.

“Alrighty. See you tomorrow then.”

. . .

Austin is trying to call Cecilia as she walks up the flight of stairs that leads to her apartment. 

"Hey, Cece. It’s Austin again, I was just calling to let you know I’m on my way to your apartment. You haven’t been to work in a couple days. Are you feeling okay? I can run to the store if you need anything. Anyway, call me back when you get this. I’ll be at your door soon.”

As Austin walks down a hall, she notices something suspicious. Cecilia’s door is open and yellow police tape lines the doorway. As she peeks through, it’s as if the place has been trashed. There’s even markers beside messes. 

She instantly reaches for her phone to call Freddy. When she calls, the phone rings, but very quickly, a shadowy figure puts their gloved hand over her mouth and pulls her away. 

. . .

Reid and Morgan are at the Bassett’s family home again. Reid is making his way through the home, while Derek speaks to the parents once more. 

Colin Bassett, Cecilia’s father, consoles a hysterical Catherine Bassett, Cecilia’s mother. 

“Shouldn’t you be out there looking for my Cece?” The man of the house booms. 

“I can assure you sir, the rest of our team is looking for her right now, but you can help us by walking us through Cece’s daily routine. We already talked to her close friends, but is there anywhere she would go to frequently?” Morgan questions.

“She went to the beach a lot. She’s an avid surfer. She’s won competitions.”

Reid wander into the kitchen. On the fridge are several pictures of Cece. Graduation, with surf medals, and a picture at the beach. Reid recognizes it. He comes out into the living room. 

“Was Cece’s favorite beach Malibu?” He asks the Bassett’s.

“Yeah, she loves it there. Says there’s better waves over there than anywhere else.”

“What is it, Reid?” Derek inquires.

“I recognize the beach. The view is the same as the one I saw when I was at the coffee shop yesterday.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Cece works at the cafe beside there. Ah, what’s the name again, Colin? The Coffee something.” Mrs. Bassett tells them. 

“The Coffee Corner?” Reid suggests. 

“Yeah, that’s the one.” 

Morgan and Reid exchange glances. 

“Yesterday when Austin served me she said, “Sorry for the wait, we’re understaffed today so it’s like a one woman show around here.” I’m guessing that the understaffing is because Cece hasn’t been at work in the past week.” Reid explains quickly.

Derek takes this as their cue to leave. “Thank you for your time.” 

Both Reid and Morgan rush outside and to the SUV. Reid naturally takes the passenger seat while Derek frantically drives. 

“So I guess you’ll be seeing Austin again after all. How does it feel, Pretty Boy?” 

“I know that I was hoping I wouldn’t see her while we were here so I could prove her wrong, but I think I did want to see her again.”

Derek chuckles. “Congrats, you are officially the last person to know that. So you like her, huh?”

“That’s the thing - I don’t know. I liked talking to her, and I thought she was pretty, but I barely know her. She’s just some girl I saved.”

"Is she though? Because ever since you met her yesterday, you can’t think straight. It took you the entire time JJ and I were at the Bassett’s to finish the geo-profile. And I noticed that you put a napkin in the book you took to the coffee place. You never need to bookmark a page because you always finish them on the same day you start them. You couldn’t even finish a book, Reid. Something’s up.”

“I dunno, maybe, but I can’t focus on her right now, I just have to figure out what this unsub wants from Cece.”

Reid and Morgan soon arrive at the Coffee Corner. The cafe looks hectic. Freddy is so preoccupied serving customers that he doesn’t even notice the pair, until they formally introduce themselves. 

Most notably, Reid is caught subtly eyeing the place for Austin to appear. 

“What can I get you folks, the special today is -”

Derek saves Freddy the time by cutting him off. “I’m Agent Morgan and this is Agent Reid. We’re here to talk to you about one of your employees, Cecilia Bassett.”

“Oh, Cece? Yeah she’s not here right now, but I can take a message for her.” 

“Has Cece been to work this week at all?” Morgan asks. 

“Nope. No call, no text, no nothing.” 

Spencer’s mind has already drifted off and it won’t refocus unless he asks, “Is  Austin here?”

“She didn’t show up today, either. Last I saw her was last night when we were closing. She said she was gonna stop by Cece’s apartment to check on her, and she was supposed to call me, but she never did. Instead all I got was some weird voicemail.”

Reid and Morgan look at each other. 

“Can we hear it?”

“Yeah, sure, I was gonna tell the police about it, but I didn’t have time to leave work.”

Freddy taps on his screen. The voicemail plays the sounds of Austin struggling. 

Spencer whispers to Morgan. “It sounds like she’s trying to say something or scream, but it’s being silenced, most likely by a hand or a cloth.”

Now talking in a regular volume to Freddy, Spencer asks, “Sir, would you say Austin and Cece were friends?”

Freddy nods rapidly. “Oh yeah - big time. They were surfing buddies that would come in here all the time. They became such frequent customers that one day I just offered them a job.”

Derek turns to Spencer. “Why didn’t JJ interview Austin when we were interviewing Cece’s close friends?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Can we take your phone to have that voicemail with us?” Spencer asks Freddy.

He nods and hands his phone to Reid.

As Morgan and Reid approach Cece’s apartment, they rip the police tape to enter. 

“I just got off the phone with JJ. She said Austin never showed up for her interview last night. She kept rescheduling because she couldn’t leave work.” Spencer explains. 

“Do you think she might be missing?”

Spencer doesn’t want to say it, but he has to consider it. “She might be.’

“Alright, let’s think about this. Austin drives straight here after work.”

“But when she does, she notices the police tape. Something’s wrong.” Spencer adds.

“Right. Then she peeks through the tape and sees the place is a mess so she goes to call for Freddy to let him know something’s up.”

“But in the voicemail, she isn’t saying anything, it’s just the sound of her struggling.” Reid mentions.

“At the very beginning there was a loud noise, I think it might’ve been the sound of her phone dropping on the floor.”

Morgan walks back into the hallway and Reid follows. Morgan gets low to the ground and scans the floor. He notices something. 

“Reid, take a look at this. Small glass shards.”

“So when she dropped her phone, the screen shattered.”

“So where’s the phone? Did the unsub pick it up?”

“No, it’s too risky. If he uses his free hand to get the phone, his grip on Austin loosens, so she could run. Or he moves the hand that’s keeping her quiet, and then she’ll scream.”

“So, then it’s gotta be somewhere here.” Morgan wagers. 

Reid and Morgan scan the hall and walk back in the apartment. 

Spencer notices something. “Wait, I found it. It was hidden under her mail.” He tries turning it on, but It’s dead.

“Are we sure that isn’t Cece’s phone?”

“No, I saw Austin’s phone case in her back pocket.”

Morgan smirks. “Reid, were you looking at her ass-”

“But even if Austin didn’t scream,” He cuts Morgan off to deliberatly pivot from the topic. “There would’ve been some noise from her phone dropping and the sound of the struggle. Why didn’t the neighbors hear it?”

“Wait, Reid, how did the unsub even know Austin was outside?”

“Wait, listen to the voicemail again.”

Reid plays the voicemail for Morgan once more. 

“Do you hear that?” 

He replays the very end. It’s the faint sound of a door shutting. 

In a hushed voice, Reid says, “Our unsub is one of Cece’s neighbors. It would explain why no neighbors reported hearing sounds and why they could see Austin at the door. Also, I found her phone under the mail. If he was in a hurry to get her to a secondary location, he would’ve just kicked it somewhere in the hall or into the apartment, but it’s hidden. So he’s able to come back and hide it without raising any suspicion.”

“Reid, if our unsub is a neighbor, there’s a very good chance that we’re being watched right now.”

DUN DUN DUNNNN!!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A/N: AHHA I AM DELIRIOUS AND ADDED THAT ‘SOUND EFFECT’ JUST BECAUSE. 

Anyway truth be told, I didn’t actually have a conclusion to this with a good unsub story plot, so I wanted to leave it on a cliff hanger. Sorry to do that to you. If you have suggests - lemme knowww.

[a-duck-with-a-book]

REVIEW // Seven Blades in Black (The Grave of Empires #1) by Sam Sykes

★☆☆☆☆

Disclaimer: while I was reading this book, I found out that Sam Sykes has been accused by numerous women of sexual harassment. You can find more information about it below: - a post listing several accusations of misconduct - twitter post responding to the situation - one of the accusations against Sam Sykes - his quickly-deleted apology Suffice to say, I have no intention of continuing this series or reading any more of his books.

I have a lot to say about this novel, so I’ll begin by making a quick bullet point list outlining what I liked and disliked:

Liked:

Cavric <3

Lisette deserved better

Some interesting concepts in the world building

Disliked:

Sal as a narrator

Sal as an antihero

Sal as a person in general

Writing style

Constant interruptions

Meandering narrative

The “narrator knows something but the writer avoids revealing it until the end for the drama” trope

This is a Big Tough World and Nobody Gets To Be Happy

Lesbians written by a man who harasses women

Unnecessarily long

// image: official cover art Jeremy Wilson //

Let’s begin with the full review by starting with the (few) positives, shall we?

First and foremost, I genuinely enjoyed Cavric and Lisette. It is unfortunate that they had to deal with Sal for the entirety of the novel, but we’ll get to her later. If this book had been a buddy adventure with these two, in which Cavric slowly shows Lisette that she is in a toxic relationships and deserves to move on and find someone better for herself, I probably would have enjoyed it a lot more. Secondly (and finally), Sykes introduced some genuinely interesting world building. The background of the Empire and the Scar was fascinating to read, but unfortunately did not save the rest of this mess.

Alright now let’s rant.

I have 35 notes and 52 highlights from this book, so this might get block quote heavy. (Go check out my notes if you want to see me slowly lose my sanity)

Sal is awful. I know she’s meant to be awful, but she’s not flawed in the way that I think Sykes was trying to write her. I believe she was intended to be a scruffy, lovable antihero who fought her way through a dangerous landscape with her sharp blade and even sharper tongue. A girl who had wrongs committed against her in the past, who did terrible things but is now on the road to an epic redemption arc. She shoots bad guys, she says f*ck and a*s a lot, and she is morally complex. That’s the character that Sykes was trying to make. The one he created, however, is a genuinely terrible person who I had no desire to see come out on top. I have a myriad of issues with her, but let’s outline a couple below: (1) She is incredibly toxic for Lisette. Am I getting a bit too heated about a fictional relationship? Sure. Was I happy to read a toxic lesbian romance written by a man who sexually harasses women? Nope. It kind of grossed me out, actually. Anyway, let me give you a run down of their relationship. Sal arrives. Sal and Lisette sleep together. Sal asks Lisette to give her weapons and or fix things for her. Sal sneaks away, telling herself no good will come of this relationship and they will only cause each other pain. Sal needs something. Sal comes back. Repeat over and over. She constantly says, throughout the book, that it would be better if they just left each other, but then again Sal is the one who goes back to Lisette over and over, causing her renewed heartbreak. I don’t know if Sykes thought that simply making Sal aware of how terrible this behavior was was enough, but it just made me incredibly frustrated. At one point Sal says:

”Intellect like hers is a curse. The more you understand of the world, the less of it you trust.”

Yes, Sal, that’s what’s giving her trust issues. Her intelligence. Nice. By the end of the book, it seems that they are on the mend-I’m getting end-game vibes from these two. But honestly, I spent the entire time thinking that Lisette deserved so much better than Sal. Like literally a chicken would have provided healthier companionship. I’ll end with this quote, in which Lisette outlines perfectly why Sal does not deserve her:

“What am I doing wrong that you’d choose this over me?”

(2) Sal is annoying. Really, really annoying. I kid you not, half of this book is made up of Sal’s snarky comments. She is badass. She has a gun. She is an outlaw. And she will never, EVER shut up about it. Imagine a quirky line after an otherwise dark or action-packed sequence. Funny, right? Might break the tension, make the narrator more endearing, etc. Now imagine one such line after every. Single. Paragraph. Picture a violent battle scene where the protagonist is fighting for their lives against a ruthless opponent. Now insert a snarky comment after every other paragraph and watch the entire flow of the scene fall apart with constant interruptions. That’s what this book is-which brings me to my next point.

The writing isn’t great. There are constant interruptions, meandering narratives, and the trope that haunts me in nearly every dark fantasy novel I read-This is a Big Tough World and Nobody Gets To Be Happy-is shoved repeatedly in your face. Let’s start with the interruptions, returning to my previous point (ie. Sal never shuts up), by looking at this sequence:

I  followed the shrieking wind. I had come here prepared for something bad. But I wasn’t prepared for just how bad it was. I rounded the corner of the hall, came out atop a battlement. The wind struck me with a screaming gale, forcing me to shield my face and cling to the stone for purchase. My eyes squinted against the harshness of the light, the kind of offensive pale you only see in your nightmares. And through them, I could see the bowed shapes of towers sagging, the flayed flesh of banners whipping in a wind that wouldn’t cease, the shadows of figures frozen in a death that had brought no peace. And I knew where I was. There was nothing that had ever made Fort Dogsjaw special. It had never been crucial for defense, never a hub for trade, it hadn’t even been named for anything special—the commander just liked the sound of it. It lived its whole life a regular, boring Imperial fort on the edge of the Husks. It only got important at the time of its death. Over three hundred mages and a few thousand regulars had assembled here in one day—some to receive assignments, some to man the garrison, some to head back to Cathama on leave. They had been laughing, cursing, drinking when the news came that the new Emperor of Cathama was a nul, born with no magic. And then there had been a moment of silence.

I’ve bolded for emphasis, but do you see what I’m talking about? The paragraph-line-paragraph-line format is so annoying to read, I had to put the book down at certain points because of how frustrated I got. It interrupted the forward movement of the story, making the novel drag on and on.

You know what else makes this feel like the nightmare version of the Never-ending Story? The page count. I don’t mind long books-The Priory of the Orange Tree is one of my favorite reads so far this year, and it’s longer than this one-but they have to have a reason for being so hefty. As I mentioned earlier, a considerable chunk of Seven Blades of Black is Sal making her awful, awful, AWFUL asides. I literally cannot express how much I despise those comments. Okay, let’s move on before I get hung up on THOSE STUPID COM-*cough*

This novel is marred by unnecessary lines and a meandering plot that drag out the story. One instance is the amount of times that Sal is a second away from killing someone and, for some reason (usually not a good one), fails in her goal. She places a gun at someone’s head and goes through a whole monologue in her head until the person miraculously escapes. This type of subversion of expectations is fine every once in a while, but if you are going to build up to a crucial moment and then take away the satisfaction of the defeat of some villain (or mini-boss, as many of the antagonists in this book feel like), then you need to have a good reason for doing it upwards of twenty times in ONE BOOK. Secondly, if you spend almost the entire novel setting up more and more villains and stressing how hard they are to kill and how dangerous their powers are (and presenting them separately and isolated), then when you have them all in one place at the end, at which point the protagonists starts going through them like a plate of french fries at a seagull convention, then you’re kind of taking away the satisfaction of the death. Somehow, this book manages to do both. We are constantly teased with almost-kills, then at the end Sal just blows through everyone in five seconds, easy-peasy.

I’m almost done, I swear-just two more gripes.

So much of the tension of this book rests on the fact that Sal, our narrator and our main viewpoint into the story, knows something that we don’t. I’ll be upfront with you-I hate this trope. If our POV character, the one whose mind we are in constantly, is entirely aware of something that happened before the beginning of the novel, and the author keeps from revealing that something for the entirety of the story solely to add drama, then I will not be a happy reader. Where is the logic. We are in this person’s mind. Just show us already and add tension ELSEWHERE.

And FINALLY (as painful as it was for you to read this, it was worse for me to write it), another issue I have with a lot of dark fantasy (see my review of Nevernight) is that the author really, really wants us to know that this is an incredibly dangerous and dark world by filling it to the brim with edge lord narrators, Big Guns, and, usually, women being harrased-because why not force all your female readers to constantly have to read about women getting assaulted? Apart from Sal’s 300,000 comments explaining to us that she is an asshole, that the Scar is Dangerous, and that she has Killed A Lot of People, we as readers must sit through hundreds of lines of dialogue and exposition that beat us over the head with the fact that this is DARK fantasy. This isn’t your nice little fairy adventure-no sir. Here we have Swear Words and Violence and Men writing Queer Women. To emphasize just how blatant Sykes is with the dark part of dark fantasy, let me tell you about an exchange Sal has with three old ladies who run a criminal empire. In the 2-3 pages that these women appear in, we are told, in some form or other, that they are grandmas who kill people, a grand total of, I kid you not, ELEVEN TIMES. Here are some excerpts from that whole situation:

”“Now, now.” Yoc, old and white haired and sweet as a grandmother—if that grandmother also had people killed on the regular—smiled at me. “I’m sure she has a good reason for being here.” She raised the hand that had signed the contracts that had killed a thousand men and women and took up her whiskey glass. “After all, I’m sure she knows how much we don’t like having our game interrupted.”” *I counted this as one since it’s in the same exchange but technically he mentions it TWICE

”…one didn’t waste the Three’s time if one didn’t want to end up with their teeth pried out.”

”How often do you meet the three old ladies who have people killed for money?”

”I said we should kill her on principle.”

”“But you know how many orphans I’ve made, don’t you, dear?””

”“He’s not so unlike us, is he? A murderer, yes. A monster to some. But, at his heart, a businessman.”

”Theirs were the hands that signed a thousand death contracts a year.”

”When they could be bothered to look up from their game, they decided who lived and died with a stroke of their pen.”

”At a word, they could have me stripped, tied, tortured, and cut up…”

”the Three don’t lie. Their assassins do. Their thieves do. But they don’t.”

”I had already wasted their time and I knew the Three were being generous just letting me fuck off instead of having me killed for the effort.”

TL;DR - Sal is annoying, Sykes is a bad writer, and Someone should have stopped me from reading this book