So the latest issue of the cates run seems to hint at something that might have explained this whole mess? Of course that doesn’t matter now since cates had to cut the run short due to issues with his home life,
Basically it seems Titan was placed in Brice’s mind by D’spayre, and that the seed that grew into Titan was given to him through a green door by what looked like the leader but with a baby body?
Now that will probably never got followed up on so I guess it doesn’t really matter, but it seems like cates WAS eventually going to use some things from immortal hulk again? Which makes it all the more strange that he would undo all of the character development and just erase joe fixit with zero explanation, was that something editorial pushed so people wouldn’t get confused with the joe fixit miniseries? Who fucking knows. At least this mess is finally at an end
Yeah I just finished reading it.
It's definitely ... something. It looks like Ryan Ottley kinda took over these last few issues so I wonder how much of this was part of Cate's original idea or what. This issue definitely felt like it was hailing back to Immortal Hulk, what with the Green Door and the way Hulk and Bruce burst out of Titan - that transformation looked a lot like the grotesque twisty ones in Immortal Hulk.
I'm glad it ends with peace for Bruce, that he has a bed and people watching out for him. It feels a little overly simple to just say "we told everyone what happened and everyone knows your safe and none if it is your fault." Like, we didn't get to see the resolution we are just told there was one. But, regardless, I'm glad we're putting Bruce in a place where the rest of the Marvel heroes aren't going to be attacking him.
In terms of consistency and characterization, this run was still a huge mess. I'm glad it's over. But I am not as furious about it's existence anymore. I'm glad they cleared up that Titan is a foreign entity that was placed inside Bruce, and not a part of his DID System. I just hope the next Hulk series is better.
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I posted 789 times in 2022
That's 701 more posts than 2021!
682 posts created (86%)
107 posts reblogged (14%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@losers-and-parasites
@lovestrucklaundry
@land-of-brains-and-chocolate
@venomfan24amogus
@slimepost-generator
I tagged 702 of my posts in 2022
Only 11% of my posts had no tags
#venom - 687 posts
#cates run - 380 posts
#extreme carnage - 94 posts
#king in black - 69 posts
#lethal protector 22 - 67 posts
#recursion - 67 posts
#scream: curse of carnage - 66 posts
#red goblin - 38 posts
#venom 200 - 30 posts
#venom vol 4 35 - 30 posts
Longest Tag: 139 characters
#it's filled with so many contradictions and confusions from the shit pile that is venom lore at this point that i can't pick out what's gen
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
"gay gay homosexual gay"
74 notes - Posted June 30, 2022
#4
1. oh my god they're so fucking beautiful
LOOK AT HOW BIG THOSE DUMBELLS ARE
THEY'RE INSANE AND I LOVE THEM
2. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE GONNA GO KILL SPIDER-MAN
WHAT HAPPENED TO THE TRUCE
eddie be like: "my coping mechanisms have stopped working so i'm gonna go commit a murder"
75 notes - Posted March 23, 2022
#3
yo, electro-venom is actually kind of a cool concept
it's actually a creative application of their powers instead of them just shapeshifting into the most basic stuff the writers can think of (see: sword, gun, etc.)
why can't we see shit like this more often
81 notes - Posted May 19, 2022
#2
defeating a villain by turning him into bubbles and popping him to death is literally the goofiest peak 90s-esque shit and i love it
95 notes - Posted May 19, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
THE WAY THE GOO JUST INSTANTLY FLIES OVER THEIR FACE THE MOMENT THEY HEAR A CALL FOR HELP
THEY'RE SO IN SYNC IT'S INSANE
126 notes - Posted March 23, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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listen bestie if you are going to mention a headcanon shower you have to write it out for us
I gotchu, boo. do I actually think this happened? no. but let me live. this takes place the night before the Quell, when Katniss refuses to let Peeta go to his own room to shower, because she’s afraid if a door closes between them, she’ll have to spend the hours before the arena without him.
She runs the shower for him. She isn’t sure why, but she feels compelled to do something nice for him tonight. While he undresses in the bedroom, she lays out the towels within arm’s reach, and presses a few buttons to make the water hot and lavender-scented.
And then she gets stuck. Not really. Nothing is keeping her in the bathroom except her own unwillingness to leave. She meant it when she said she didn’t want to be apart from him tonight. There’s a gaping loneliness inside her, ever wider as the clock gnaws the minutes away. If she gets her wish, she will soon be with her father, and Peeta will be alive, with a chance to become a father himself. For some reason, the only emotion that image stirs up is disappointment that Peeta and her father will never meet. It’s like the train, she realizes. That last train after the first arena, holding Peeta’s hand, and dreading letting it go.
Before she can stop herself, she tugs at her clothes as though they’re entangling her and lets them drop to the floor, quickly undoes her braid, and takes a breath.
“Peeta?” she calls. “Shower’s ready.”
There’s no way he won’t misinterpret this—anyone would, and she isn’t really sure what she’s trying to do herself—but he won’t take advantage of it. That much she knows with certainty, and it makes her want to cry. Instead, she steps into the shower, hiding her glassy eyes behind the steam and condensation.
She hears Peeta come into the bathroom. There’s a pause.
“I didn’t realize we were sharing,” he says, oh so casual, oh so inviting her to explain that she wants to shower first, alone. But she doesn’t. Even though he can’t see, she shrugs.
“Mama taught me not to waste water,” she says, a ludicrous excuse to make in the Capitol, but Peeta takes it.
“Smart.” She hears the clink of his belt buckle against the tile floor, and then he steps into the shower with her. Her resolve falters for a second, and she averts her eyes to his feet, where she’s surprised to see he’s still wearing his prosthesis.
“Waterproof,” he says.
“Do you usually take it off?”
“Sometimes,” he says. “Depends.”
Katniss nods, still pointedly interested in the drain. She’s naked. They’re naked, together, standing in the shower, not showering, not doing anything. For a second, she feels an urge to bolt, but then she scowls at herself. This could be her last night on earth, and she’s going to spend it being embarrassed? She swallows, and meets Peeta’s eyes.
He gives her the smallest smile. “You look really pretty with your hair down,” he says.
“Thank you,” she mumbles.
Peeta clears his throat. “Well,” he says. “Uh — I’ll just — can you hand me that — uh — loofa thing?”
“Yeah,” she says, reaching for the sponge. She thrusts it out at him, and he takes it, but the fingers of his free hand close lightly around her wrist. She feels their pulses flutter against each other.
“Katniss.”
She lets him pull her in, unresisting, until they’re skin to skin. The new points of contact, her breasts against his chest, their thighs brushing, should elicit sparks and shivers, but they don’t. It doesn’t feel illicit or exciting. It just feels good, like the only barrier between them now is the unspoken conflict over who is going home in glory, and who is going home in a box. But even that doesn’t feel very important at the moment, doesn’t feel real. Nothing feels real except this secret space of summer rain and a sadness so deep the only thing that can soothe it is sharing it. Peeta’s arms go around her slight frame, holding on tightly, and hers cling to his broad back, and the sponge falls to the floor with a splash both of them ignore as they sway slightly on the spot.
How long they stay there, she isn’t sure. The water never runs cold. They don’t speak. They just get soaked, and Katniss decides there’s something painfully appropriate about it. They met in the rain, after all.
At some point, they must actually shower, but she doesn’t process much of that. It’s like being in a dream, and she only comes to when he shuts the water off, and wraps a big, fluffy towel around her.
“Thanks,” she mutters, blinking in the vanity light.
“Thanks for running the shower,” he says, his voice thready.
“Any time,” she says.
She doesn’t know what they would have been, the two of them, if they’d had a chance, but she grieves never being able to find out.
She takes his hand, gives it a squeeze, hoping that the pressure can communicate all the love she knows she has for him, despite its confused trappings. He squeezes back, comforting, steady, like he always is.
“Pajamas,” she adds lamely, and he gives a snort of amusement.
“Big day tomorrow,” he agrees, and that’s that.
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