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lost-your-memory · 4 years

Note

Supercat prompt: stuck in an elevator together. Bonus if Kara starts to feel a bit claustrophobic at some point and Cat , in her own unique way, helps her through it.

It’s not exactly as short as I thought it’d be and it’s a little … out of characters, maybe, I’m a little rusty, but it’s something! Thank you for the prompt darling!TW : panic attack —

“Kara! Finally! Where are you? Andrea’s looking for you and she’s like hell on heels, even more so than usual!”

“Crap …” Kara swore, dodging a few people on the street as she ran. “I blew my powers, I’m running at a desperately human pace … I’m on my way though, try to stall for just a little longer, please?”

“You blew your powers? Oh god, this is not good …” Nia was whispering but, despite not having her super-hearing right now, Kara could hear the panic and the worry in her voice.

“I’m okay, don’t worry,” Kara retorted, taking a turn and crossing a road. A few horns went off as she ran in the middle of a busy avenue.

“Kara!” Nia exclaimed on the line. “You’re human now, don’t forget to look both ways before crossing a road … or you know, just wait for the light to be green! I’m pretty sure your boss won’t like it if you die on the way or worse, if you end up in the hospital …”

Kara chuckled and sped up on the sidewalk, making her way toward the CatCo building. She was out of breath already but as she crossed the lobby, she let out a relieved sigh.

“What’s so funny?”

Kara waved the receptionist hello as she moved to the elevators hall. “You make her sound like some kind of Miranda Priestly …”

“You’re no Andy though, that would be me” Nia laughed and then paused. “Isn’t she though, in some ways?”

All of the lifts were busy in the higher floors and she was running out of time. After some seconds of hesitation, she decided that, for once, she’ll take the private elevator. She ran to it and pressed the button, the doors opening almost right away. Looking at her watch to check the time, Kara entered the elevator and turned around to be ready to exit it as quickly as possible.

“Oh no she’s not. You never worked for Cat Grant but I can assure you, Andrea Roja is just a tiny purring and clawless kitten next to the former queen of all medias … If someone should be compared to Miranda, it would be Cat.”

“Why, thank you, I’ll take the compliment.”

Kara jumped a good five inches in the air and dropped her phone, already turning around.

Cat Grant, in all her glory, was standing in the back of the elevator.

Wrapped in a daring blue power pantsuit, she was perched atop a pair of vertiginous black heels that matched the leather vest thrown across her shoulder, held on by only one finger. A black purse was hanging by her elbow at her other arms and she was toying with one branch of her huge sunglasses with her free hand. Her hair was a little shorter now, of a lighter shade of blond that highlighted the sun-tan of her skin.

Her trademark smirk was floating on her lips, her piercing green eyes solely focused on Kara.

“Which made you my Andrea Sach, I suppose, for quite some time … Although I never got to witness the wardrobe update, until today …”

Cat’s gaze traveled from Kara’s face to her figure and all the way down to the shoes, before coming back up, ever so slowly.

“Kara? Kara is everything alright? Did you fell? Do you need any help?”

Nia’s voice came through the phone on the floor, distant and muffled, but Kara was too shocked to move.

“Are you going to answer your friend?” Cat asked, arching an expectant brow. “She sounds worried, whoever she is …”

Kara eventually bent over to pick up her phone and brought it to her ear. She felt out of her own skin, as if she was some kind of gosht looking at the scene from another angle of the elevator.

“I … gotta go. Bye,” Kara mechanically said to her friend and she instantly hung up, without listening to the protests on the other end of the line.

“What … what are you doing here?” Kara managed to ask without stuttering too much.

She still couldn’t believe Cat Grant was here, in National City, in the CatCo building and moreover, in her former private elevator. Today, of all days.

A migraine started to pound behind her eyes and she could feel her heartbeat, erratic and frantic, drum against her temples.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Supergirl?” Cat smirked again, before a frown appeared above her eyes. “Although I’m guessing you’re not so Super today …”

Kara didn’t even try to deny it.

She’d figured Cat already knew about her alter-ego, probably has known for quite some time already. She had even suspected it was one of the reasons behind Cat’s sudden leave of absence but Alex had told her, in not so gentle terms, that it was probably just wishful thinking.

“I’m powerless these days, yes,” Kara nodded, still struggling to come to terms with what was happening.

She was mostly answering out of habit because Cat Grant still had that commanding aura of authority surrounding her and she’d never been able to resist it. Not that she’d tried very hard, in the first place, Kara absentmindedly thought.

“A regretful aftermath of this … crisis on infinite earths, or whatever name you superheros gave to this ridiculous crossover that put all of you on the same planet, I assume?” Cat mused, casually making her glasses swirl around her hand.

Kara gritted her teeth and looked away, forcing herself to suck in a deep breath.

She mentally counted to five before opening her mouth to answer but at the exact same moment, the elevator abruptly stopped.

The brutal move made her lose her balance and she instinctively reached for the handlebar, preventing herself from ending on the floor. The lights went off and for a few seconds, total darkness reigned in the elevator. Then, a generator kicked in and the emergency lighting in the ceiling took over, brightening the space with a dim blue aura.

“That’s certainly new,” Cat’s voice echoed in the lift. “I’m guessing no one ever bothered with maintenance, after my departure …”

Kara glanced at the former queen of all medias.

Cat was still standing against the back of the lift but her leather jacket, her purse and her sunglasses were on the floor. She’d wrapped both her hand around the handlebar, on either side of her silhouette. She didn’t look scared though, merely annoyed.

Cat’s seemingly anodin words suddenly hit Kara. As far as she knew, no one ever rode the private lift anymore. She wasn’t even sure it had been used since Cat left, which meant their current situation could very well be a serious and dangerous issue.

Her heart skipped a beat and then raced again and she felt it pulsing in her head, in her fingertips and against her ribcage. The migraine behind her eyes migrated to her forehead and then spread everywhere as sweat started to form at the base of her hairline, above her lips and in between her shoulder-blades.

“Kara? Are you alright?” Cat’s voice echoed again, worried this time.

They were standing next to each other but to Kara, the words sounded distant, as if coming from very far away. She shook her head and tried to focus, but white stars were starting to cloud her vision. A heavy numbness was taking over her body, making her feel like she was floating and sinking at the same time.

“No one … the lift … it hasn’t been … used …” Kara tried, forcing the words out of her mouth and focusing on what she wanted to say. “You left.”

“I did, yes,” Cat replied, sounding entirely too casual for Kara’s liking. “Almost three years ago, but who’s counting …”

Her legs were starting to shake and Kara slowly let herself slide against the side of the lift, until she was sat on the ground.

She knew she was having a panic attack, it wasn’t the first time but this one seemed like it was going to be a really strong, intense one. Usually, some breathing exercises and a few Kryptonian litanies would do the trick and calm her down but she could tell it wasn’t going to work this time.

“I am,” Kara eventually replied, slowly turning her head to focus on Cat.

Since the former queen of all media was still standing up, Kara had to look up and the move made the white stars in her eyes grow. The migraine in her head drum rolled against her temples and so Kara closed her eyes and looked back down, bringing her knees to her chest and circling them with her arms. She rested her forehead against her knees and started to count.

“I know you are. You’ve been sending emails and letters, almost every months since I left,” Cat said, her words sounding even more distant now. “Carter was always so happy to hear back from you …”

The mention of Carter made Kara feel a little better, warmer. They’ve been corresponding pretty regularly over the years and they even talked to each other on the phone a few times.

Kara remembered Carter used to have panic attack too. She’d been the one to reassure him, to help him out and to tell him panic attacks were nothing to be ashamed off, that she had them too. They found out together, during one of his most intense attacks, that reciting the various dinosaurs species was his personal trick to calm down.

Cat’s voice echoed again around the lift but Kara was too unfocused to understand.

She still caught the words “situation”, “hurry”, “unemployment” and “waiting” and her brain connected the dots. She figured Cat had called for help, using the emergency button of the elevator’s board, and threatened whoever had answered if they didn’t hurry to get them out.

Glancing up to feel her surrounding, she saw that Cat had sat down in front of her, against the other side of the life. Somewhere in a corner of her mind, a voice told her she must be dreaming because there was no reality in which Cat Grant would ever sit on the floor. It almost made her smile, but the migraine took over and it made her wince instead.

“I know my son recites the dinosaur’s species to calm down. What do you recite?” Cat asked as she caught Kara’s glance. She was speaking slowly and articulating every word.

Kara anchored herself into Cat’s green eyes and took some time to gather the words she needed to answer. Her brain was all muddy and slow, she was struggling to just breathe but she knew she has to focus.

“The planets in Rao’s system,” she eventually replied. She’d been repeating them over and over and over in her mind but it wasn’t working. “It’s not … working.”

“You need to say it out loud,” Cat replied, gently. ”I think I now know about 25 kind of dinosaurs, just by listening to Carter recite them …”

Kara sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled.

She couldn’t discern the color of Cat’s eyes in the relative darkness of the elevator but her memories were still intact and it was as she could see the golden specks swirl into the hazel irises.

“Out of … thousands, it’s not … much …” Kara breathed, her voice coming out laboured and short.

Cat arched a surprise brow and it took some time before she muttered “I don’t know if I should be offended or impressed that you are able to be sassy in such a situation …”

Kara wanted to smirk but her body wasn’t answering to her anymore. Her head was throbbing like hell, her limbs were numb and heavy, almost paralyzed, and there were still some white stars in her eyes.

“Tell me about Rao’s system?”

Cat tilted her head to the side, like she did when she expected Kara to hand over whatever she’d previously asked for.

Kara suddenly remembered giving away one of her own latte because of this look. She also remembered that Cat had drank the cinnamon flavored drink, even if it was nothing like her regular order, without making any comment whatsoever.

Kara shook her head, very slowly because she didn’t want to worsen her migraine, and said “You … first. What are you … doing … here?”

Cat’s lips twitched and then a smirk made it appearance.

“The last time you were this brazen, you were under the influence of some kind of weird substance …” Cat reminisced. “Seeing that you can pull it off in the middle of a panic attack … I’m definitely impressed now.”

Kara still couldn’t smirk but she wanted to. Instead, she mimicked Cat’s posture and tilted her head.

“Fine, I suppose I can tell you …” Cat heavily sighed, making it clear that she was admitting her defeat. She didn’t look too bothered though, Kara distractingly noticed through her migraine and the sweat that rolled down her face and clouded her eyes.

“I’m here to buy CatCo back,” Cat announced, her voice clear and lined with steel. “This company has became a running joke ever since I left and it’s about time I take over, before this clawless, purring little kitten run it into the ground.”

Kara didn’t move but her skepticism must have showed somehow because Cat chuckled.

“I’m late, I’m aware, yes. James, Lena, Andrea … I probably should have come back a long time ago, but I didn’t. I don’t have any excuse really, I’ve enjoyed my life in the meantime but now I’m ready to claim my throne back.”

Kara was breathing a little easier but a fanfare was still marching in her head, sweat was soaking her hair and her shirt and she still couldn’t move a finger. She mulled over Cat’s words. Something suddenly came back to her.

“You … promised… you’d be … back,” Kara breathed, still managing to sound accusatory.

“Yes, and here I am. Better late than never, as the saying goes …” Cat instantly replied, without any hint of guilt or regret in her voice.

Kara wanted to protest but she knew it’d be wasting energy she didn’t even have.

Three years or so might have gone by but Cat Grant was still the stubborn piece of work she’d been when Kara was her assistant.

“Rao … it’s … it was … the sun,” Kara started, only realizing how much of a bad idea it was.

It was her first panic attack since the crisis happened and it suddenly felt like she was losing her world all over again. She knew that it wasn’t exactly the same but to realize that, across every universe in the multiverse, Krypton had disappeared everytime made her anxiety spike up, drastically so.

Cat seemed to understand.

“Alright, so maybe not this litany. Do you have something else?” Cat asked, gesturing with her hand for Kara to focus on her. “I mean, I can’t imagine Kara Danvers having a panic attack in public and reciting some planet names no one ever heard of … It would have attracted some attention, back in the old days when aliens weren’t public knowledge …”

Kara wanted to let out the hollow laugh that resonated in her head, through the pain of her migraine. She couldn’t, though. Talking was requiring a lot of effort and she had to save her energy to stay conscious, at the very least.

“Alex … the cars. We … we used to … fix … cars,” Kara answered, hoping Cat would be able to make out what she meant.

“Really? That’s … unexpected,” Cat smiled, sounding intrigued. “Although I met your sister once or twice, I can totally see it but you?”

“I liked … mechanics. It was … something … to focus … on,” Kara explained. “We fixed … a Chevy Impala, once.”

Cat let out a slight whistle and the sound made Kara wince.

“Sorry,” Cat instantly apologised. “What year, the car?”

Kara looked at her former boss with surprise and again, it must have showed because Cat smirked and then shrugged. “I like cars, yes. So what year?”

“‘67, I remember … Of a deep … bottle green … color. Took us … almost … two years … to get it … to work,” Kara retorted, trying to focus on the memories. “Alex took it for … a road trip afterward and … she brought me … along. Lasted two … months.”

Cat nodded “Sounds like a good memory. Where did you go?”

This time, Kara managed to offer half a smile. She felt her lips twitch upward and stretch, which meant progress.

“Arizona. Utah. Colorados. New Mexico. Texas …” Kara took a deep breath and focused. “Oklahomas. Kansas …”

That made Cat snicker but she didn’t comment.

“Nebraska. Both Dakota. Montana. Wyoming …” Kara trailed off and frowned. Her body was starting to obey her again, she noticed. She kept going. “Idaho. Oregon. Nevada … and all along the California coast, back to Midvale.”

“Sounds like a very long trip,” Cat commented. “You visited quite a few states … where was your favorite spot then?”

Kara thought back on the road trips and the many landscapes she discovered during this summer. She’d liked everything back then, every big city they drive through, the Grand Canyon, Wyoming’s plains and Kansas regular fields, Oregon’s dunes and so on but in the end, there was only one place that topped them all.

“I don’t have … one. My favorite spot was … riding shotgun in … Alex’s car.”

Cat didn’t reply right away but Kara saw the gentle smile that floated on her lips for a few seconds. It disappeared rather quickly though and, despite her particular state, Kara still felt a little disappointed.

“You mentioned the cars, plural … what other car did you fix with your sister?” Cat eventually questioned, showing that she was still a journalist at heart. It made Kara want to chuckle because no matter what, Cat never got sidetracked.

“A Cadillac, serie ‘62, convertible,” Kara replied and this time, she didn’t wince when Cat whistled. The former queen of all media looked impressed and slightly envious. “Alex’s masterpiece but… the color… sucked.”

“Oh really? Well, it couldn’t have been so bad … It’s such a fine car! A little … has been, nowadays, but such a classic …”

“It was … Barbie pink.”

Cat made a face Kara could only describe as outraged. Kara had only saw this expression on Cat a handful of time and one of them had been because someone had compared her to Lois Lane.

“You can’t be serious!” Cat protested, as if the mere idea of such a color was a personal affront. “That’s not even …”

Kara tried to move her head and when she noticed she could, she slowly nodded.

“It’s not a color, I agree … yet, the car was … as pink as … one of Buffy’s lipstick.”

“Such a fine car … It’s criminal. Although, Sarah Michelle Gellar could certainly pull it off just fine, back then. Not so much today though and someone should let her know …” Cat shook her head and pursed her lips, like she always did when someone committed a fashion faux-pas.

“You know … the actress?” Kara asked, clearly sounding a little dumbstruck.

Of course she knew Cat was extremely famous and that she evolved in a lot of different circles and yet somehow, she always managed to forget about it. It took weird occurrences like these to get a reminded.

“Oh yes, we have drinks once or twice a year. Aside from her tendency to live in the past when it comes to fashion, she’s a sweetheart,” Cat waved her hand in the air, a dismissal gesture that told Kara the topic was closed. “What other cars did you and your sister managed to get your hands on?”

“We fixed a Mustang Fastback, 1967. Maybe my favorite,” Kara said with a small smile. “A red one, it was a wreck when Alex brought it in … Took us a little less than a year to put it back together.”

“How comes your sister managed to have such fancy, expensive cars to fix?” Cat asked with a frown.

“In Midvale, we have a garage that specialises in this kind of automobiles … Alex used to work there every summer … Started when she was 14 years old and still today … she helps around whenever we go for … vacations of just for a few days.” Kara explained, instantly noticing she could form longer sentences now, despite her still laboured breath.

“Makes sense, I suppose …” Cat nodded. She seemed about to say something else when a voice came through the elevator’s line, asking if they were still there.

“Actually no, we went out for a drink, we’ll be back a little later … Why do you think!” Cat sassed, her voice sharp and cutting as she stood up to get closer to the board.

The man on the other side of the line coughed a little and then apologized, before explaining that help was on the way and should arrive in ten to fifteen minutes.

“About damn time,” Cat growled and Kara, force of habit, felt a little bad for their interlocutor.

The emergency lighting suddenly flickered. It lasted a few seconds, before it disappeared altogether.

It’s all it took to make Kara’s anxiety ten times worse.

The numbness in her limbs, which had been slowly reducing during her exchange with Cat, started again and spread even faster this time. She couldn’t feel her legs, her hands nor her face anymore. She could still hear her breathing though, extremely fast and laboured. She knew she was on the verge of wheezing.

“I have a confession to make,” Cat’s voice echoed through the closed space. Kara couldn’t see her but she had this strange feeling she was close. Closer than she’d been before. “When I told you I needed to leave in order to dive, I didn’t tell you the truth.”

Kara wanted to retort with a sassy reply, something along the lines of ‘no kidding’ but she was unable to speak. She was focusing on her breathing, going over and over and over the cars she’d just talked about, in her head.

Still, when Cat spoke again, she listened.

“I mean, it was part of the truth, I needed to do something else, something new but in the end …” Cat paused and Kara felt something move next to her. “I was … running away.”

Kara was grateful for the fact Cat wasn’t touching her. In her current state, it would only make things worse. They were sat down side by side on the elevator’s floor, in total darkness, but there was still some space left in between them.

The sound of Cat’s voice, piercing the obscurity of the space, was somehow soothing. Kara choose to focus on it instead of trying to reign over her panic, which was only making it worse.

“I have to admit,” Cat let out with a dry chuckle “This wasn’t exactly how I planned to tell you about this particular topic but since there’s not time like the present and you clearly need a distraction …”

Again, Kara wanted to snap back but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“I promoted you to this journalist position you were destined to occupy. I gave you an office, put you in Snapper’s team and then watched you rise to the opportunity … In the middle of it, I realized that … I was missing you.”

That got Kara’s attention, efficiently distracting her from her anxiety just long enough for her to croak a disbelieving “What?”

“Oh, you speak now!” Cat said, somehow managing to make it sound like a cutting criticism. “You heard me. I was missing you but what’s striking about it is that I wasn’t missing my assistant, however competent and efficient you were in this role.”

Kara blinked.

She thought maybe her anxiety has gotten so bad at this point that she was hallucinating, imagining Cat saying all those things she’d once wanted to hear so badly.

Wishful thinking, Alex had said, dismissively.

“I was missing you, Kara Danvers,” Cat breathed, her voice a little lower this time. It sounded like an admission, a little shy but there nonetheless. “The constant questions you used to ask that pushed me to be a better version of myself. The subtle soothing smile you did when someone would get on my nerves and that prevented me from going ballistic. The reprobative eyebrow when I was too sharp, too blunt or just too mean to someone who didn’t deserve it. The way you listened, truly listened, when I talked, especially when it was about Carter. Your ridiculous rambling about one thing or another, the pure wonder in your eyes when you learned something and for God’s sake I was even missing those awfully colorful cardigans of yours.”

Kara’s mind was spinning but this time, she was pretty sure her anxiety has nothing to do with it. Cat’s words echoed in her mind, beating a rhythm along with her receding migraine.

“That’s when I realized something. I had … developed feelings, for you,” Cat said with just a hint of annoyance in her voice, something that proved Kara wasn’t imagining things.

“Inappropriate, unwanted, unrequited feelings. I’m not proud to admit it but I got scared.” Cat was whispering now but the darkness in the lift amplified her voice. “I had been pondering about my future for quite some time already but then the timing was right and I took to opportunity when it presented itself. I left CatCo, and you with it.”

Kara didn’t say anything. She didn’t even know what to say.

She’d been hoping for something like this for well over three years now, despite her best efforts to try to move on.

She’d tried, with Mon-El, but then Cat came back for a few days. She didn’t even stay a whole week, but it had been enough for Kara to realize she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with the Daxamite prince.

“I know you can’t talk now and I realize it’s very unfair of me to drop this on you while you’re having a panic attack, but I do wonder …” Cat trailed off, suddenly sounding unsure and small.

Kara didn’t think. She willed her hand to move and when it did, she reached out through the obscurity and found Cat’s hand.

The skin was soft and warm underneath hers, real.

She brushed her thumb across Cat’s knuckles and heard a soft gasp, it made her smile.

She could get used to this.

She was still struggling to breath but it was somehow getting better and the paralisis in her limbs had disappeared. She slowly moved her legs, to extend them in front of her, and sat up a little straighter.

“We need to talk about this,” Kara managed to say, pleasantly surprised that she didn’t choke on the words. “Preferably in broad daylight and in a big, vast, open space.”

Soft fingers squeezed hers and it sent a flutter down her stomach.

“How about my penthouse then, big enough for your taste?” It was still pitch black in the lift but Kara would bet her weight in potstickers that Cat was smiling. “Dinner tonight? Carter would be thrilled to have you and then we’ll talk.”

“I would love to,” Kara replied with a smile of her own. “Tell me something, though …”

The hand in hers stilled but she didn’t let go.

“Why now?”

Cat let out a sigh Kara didn’t know how to decipher. It sounded like relief but she wasn’t sure.

“Again, I’d like to point out this wasn’t how I had planned to tell you about all of this but as for the timing …” Cat explained. Kara rolled her eyes before she remembered Cat couldn’t see her. “I grew tired of running away. It’s as simple as that. I told you once to pull on your big girl’s pants and to own it … It was about time I followed my own advice. I’m incredibly late, by over three years, but then again ….”

“Better late than never, you’ve said it already,” Kara supplied with a chuckle.

She was not surprised by Cat’s answer, not in the least. She knew that her former boss had a lot of emotional baggages and aside from when it concerned her son, Cat was easily skittish when it came to feelings. Paired with her stubborn, independent and perfectionist temperament, Kara thought it was some kind of exploit that it didn’t take any longer.

“Am I too late?”

The question floated around in the elevator, thick and heavy with meaning.

It was a good one, a legitimate one even, Kara realized as she closed her mouth to hold back the “no” she’d been about to reply. The word, so small and yet so important, sat heavy on the tip of her tongue. A lot had happened over the years and despite Kara wanting nothing more than to act as if it didn’t, she knew it wouldn’t be fair.

She opened her mouth to say something when a man’s voice on the other side of the doors made them both startle.

“Hello in there! I’m going to try to pry the door open, should take a few minutes …”

A rumble indicated he was rummaging around to find some tool. Eventually, grunts and metal bending replaced the previous noise.

Kara squeezed Cat’s hand and leant over to whisper her answer.

“A queen is never late. Everyone else is simply early …”

It earned her a laugh, a surprised but genuinely affectionate laugh. Cat intertwined her fingers with Kara’s and held on for a few seconds before letting it go.

The doors opened, slowly, liberating the way to the tenth floor. Light finally spilled into the elevator.

Cat and Kara stood up and gathered their belongings, in silence.

The man in deep blue work overalls that stood in front of the lift looked very apologetic and he helped them out while expressing how sorry he was.“I’m sorry it took me so long, there was some traffic downtown … I know it must have been hard to be trapped in there, I’m sorry for being late …”

Cat glared him at her, towering on her heels and for a few seconds, Kara thought she was about to lash out. She arched a reprobate eyebrow and caught Cat’s eyes. Whatever Cat had been about to say, she swallowed it back and then did her typical dismissive gesture with her hand.

“It’s alright. I suppose it’s better late than never, after all …”

After what Cat strolled away toward the end of the elevator hall and toward the stairs. Before she disappeared into the stairways, she threw one last glance at Kara and smiled.

“Dinner is at 8. Oh and Kara …” Cat smirked, in such a predatory way Kara’s knees wobbled a little.

“Yes?” Kara replied, trying not to sound too affected.

“Don’t be late.”

#Supercat #Kara x Cat #Sentences prompt #It's been a while #Sorry about that #Prompt #Supergirl prompt #Mine #spicycheeser #tw: panic attack

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secret-diary-of-an-fa · 5 years

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Hidden Gems of the Silver Screen (And, to a Lesser Extent, the Telly)

It can’t have escaped your notice that the majority of my more recent posts (and fuck knows I’m not posting regularly at the moment) are about movies and TV. The reason for that is pretty simple: 2019 has, surprisingly, yielded some great movies and TV... and also some really torrid shite. On the one hand, films like Ma, Brightburn and The Perfection continue to breathe new life into the horror genre. On the other hand, sci-fi as a cinematic and televised thing continues to ignore its actual audience in favour of sniffing its own farts in a sound-proof chamber designed specifically for next-level virtue-signalling. One thing I will say about the dreck of 2019 is that it’s interesting dreck, at least so far. Another Life, for example, isn’t just bad: it’s mind-bogglingly, fascinatingly bad, as though someone set out to make the worst TV series imaginable and accidentally created a portal to another dimension made entirely of crap.

With all the amazingly wonderful and transifxingly terrible visual media on offer lately, it’s easy to forget that there’s a rich repository of films and TV series from just a few years ago that you’ve probably never watched. You see if you, like me, are a snooty, card-carrying member of the elitist intelligentsia, you probably missed films and TV series that looked dumb as soup on the surface on the grounds that they weren’t worth your time. Luckily for you, I’ve dived nose-first into the detritus of our dying culture, so you don’t have to, and I’ve ferreted out the diamonds from the pig-swill. Without further ado, I’d therefore like to present my list Easily Overlooked Gems.

1. Mandy The phrase “Nicholas Cage stars in a sword-and-sorcery rape/revenge thriller” does not inspire confidence. It’s therefore easy to ignore Mandy and the promptly forget it ever existed. Which is a shame, because it’s kind of a work of genius. The plot is exactly what you’d expect: a cult kidnaps, rapes and kills Cage’s girlfriend, Mandy, and Cage sets out on a mission of revenge culminating in a blood-bath. The nature of the revenge quest is what puts a sting in the film’s tail- or tale, if you’re feeling puntastic. You see, a lot of the bad guys exist in a constant hallucinatory haze after taking a drug that sent them mad after one dose. In order to fight on their level, Cage has to take a dose too. As a result, the world around him slowly but surely transforms into a nightmare landscape that looks like a cross between a D&D illustration and the cover of a heavy metal album and his grubby, personal mission of fury takes on the unmistakable resonance of a Conan-esque hero’s quest. By the end of the film, you have to wonder if Cage has actually slipped into some sort of alternate dimension or if he’s just lost his game-pieces completely. In places, it’s nearly as painful to watch as Landmine Goes Click (crikey, there’s one for the history buffs) but it looks and feels like Beyond the Black Rainbow. Worth your attention just because of how weird it is. I give it a solid four-out-five decapitated rapists.

2. Baby Driver Nothing about Baby Driver suggested it would be a good film: the way it was advertised as a car-chase movie trying to be cute; the stupid title; the fact that it came and went through cinemas like a fart in the night. Which is a shame, because it’s secretly brilliant. It’s a highly stylised crime film populated with the archest archetypes money can buy (to the point where some of the dialogue has a weirdly beat-poetic feel to it). It’s saturated colour palette and off-beat affect actually have something of a full-colour Jim Jarmusch flick about them. The hook, of course, is that the lead character (only ever referred to as Baby, because he’s got a punchably youthful face) has tinnitus and therefore has to listen to music constantly to drown at the buzzing in his head. The practical upshot of this is that a) every single scene is overlayed with surprisingly great and situationally appropriate music and b) he goes through life like he’s always dancing, so his way of moving lends to the film’s easy-going sense of flow. It also explains where his preternatural driving skills come from (I mean, not really, but within the context of the plot): he’s used to sliding effortlessly into patterns and rhythms because of the music thing. All of this could make a terrible film, of course, but execution is everything and, to everyone’s surprise, especially mine, this flick was executed with an astonishing level of panache. I rate it ten out of ten grizzly motor way pile ups.

3. Nightflyers It’s not just films that get overlooked as the tide of culture washes back and forth, like a great big sea of effluent. TV series also vanish unduly into the dustbin of history. Case in point, the criminally underappreciated Nighrflyers: Netflix pre-Another Life sci-fi offering that was actually good. It’s a pretty classic set-up: a group of mismatched wing-nuts on a spaceship, all of whom have secrets that that will threaten to tear them apart while they try to make contact with an alien life-form. What elevates Nightflyers is just how fuck-uped the cast are. There’s an angry British psychic whose spent his whole life in captivity in case he goes full Scanners on somebody’s head, a guy who only ever appears as a hologram for reasons too twisted to explain here, his evil mother whose uploaded her mind to the ship’s computer and gone batshit crazy, a genetic superbeing and a hacker who can send her mind into computers via a dodgy implant and who may or may not be drifting out of touch with the human condition. It’s great. 6 and half billion out of 7 billion monkeys, boiling in the void.

4. Hardcore Henry No, I don’t know who thought that title was a good idea either, but the point is that Hardcore Henry has no motherfucking right to kick as much arse as it does. It was clearly made on a budget that would embarrass a Youtube shampoo commercial, but it just flat-out rocks. Shot entirely in first-person, it follows the adventures of a mute cyborg as he seeks revenge against the bastard psychic entrepreneur who first built him then tried to kill him. Along the way, his main ally is a dude who keeps dying and coming back to life in a series of identical bodies but with radically different personalities and haircuts (this is eventually explained, but I’m not going to spoil it for you). It’s premise is demented, it’s surprisingly well-choreographed and its soundtrack is an aphrodisiac for your ears. Also, Tim Roth is in it, so that’s just yer seal of quality right there. It came out to a lot of fanfare and many, many cinema trailers back in the day and was then promptly forgotten about as soon as it launched. So I’m dragging it kicking and screaming back into the limelight. It’s on Netflix right now, so go watch it. I rate it a solid 11 out of 15 creepy duplicates of Tim Roth.

5. Upgrade Another lesser-known film about a cyborg. Unlike Henry, however, this cyborg’s life doesn’t so much ‘rock’ as ‘suck balls’. He gets crippled and then ends up with a sentient computer chip in his head that allows him to remote-control his own body despite not having a working spine anymore. Naturally, his experimental tech attracts the attention of some unsavoury characters and he and his brain-chip have to work together to figure out what’s going on, often through a series of ultra-violent, gory fight-scenes that horrify the protagonist himself. Of course, all might be well, except that the head-chip is a homicidal little shit that clearly has its own agenda. I give it at least 0000 0111 out of 0000 1001 painstakingly restored vintage kill-bots.

6. The Tick The Tick isn’t as overlooked as everything else on this list, especially since there have been a couple of previous televised incarnations of the franchise to lay the groundwork. However, I still feel like the modern iteration doesn’t quite get the love it deserves, so I’m throwing it out here. Following the adventures a mad, amnesiac and possibly stupid superhero and his neurotic sidekick, The Tick explores a world where superheroes aren’t the paragons of good from classic comics, the corrupt psychotics of The Boys or Watchmen, or the eternally struggling, walking moral life-lessons of modern cinema. Instead, they’re just ordinary people operating at various levels of competence/incompetence and mental illness and working within a bureaucratic, wildly inefficient framework. That might not sound like a recipe for a successful TV series, but it really is. Drawing out the mundane, human side of heroes and villains against the backdrop of cataclysmic, civilisation-threatening events makes for infinitely compelling and very, very funny viewing. It’s kind of doing for the superhero genre what Futurama did for sci-fi a few years back. It’s also where the phrase and/or popular song ‘seven billion monkeys boiling in the void’ comes from. My rating is four out of five sapient, homosexual boats (which will make sense when you watch it).

7. The Void Amid the high-budget horror extravaganzas of recent years, it’s easy to forget about the void, which feels like the best story H.P. Lovecraft never wrote and looks like David Chronenberg tried to adapt a Heironimous Bosch painting... in the ‘80s. The actual plot concerns a group of people getting trapped in a hospital by murderous cultists and discovering dark secrets and, arguably, a whole other dimension in its basement. You’re not exactly there for the plot though: The Void is a mood-piece and an exercise in visual FX craftsmanship. You’re there to drink in the atmosphere and see what each new cosmic horror looks like. I am delighted to award it ten out of ten unspeakable whisperers in the darkness. That’s enough for two barbershop quartets, an emcee and a supporting act.

8. Happy Death Day It’s Groundhog Day but as a horror film starring a really annoying lass in her late teens has to keep dying horribly until she learns to stop being such a terrible person... and also kill her murderer with a little help from her newly-minted, non-cunty friend. There’s a sequel that I haven’t seen yet, but the original is a low-key, oft-overlooked delight. I give it 9 out of 11 suspiciously similar corpses.

#Secret Diary of a Fat Admirer #films #tv shows #movies #Mandy #Baby Driver #Nightflyers #The Tick #The Void #Tick #happy death day #Upgrade

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lurafita · 5 years

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It’s not easy to kidnap Spiderman

There are so, S.O., many fanfics that have normal, human, non-enhanced criminals successfully kidnapping Peter Parker. And I may have ranted about how people always noob Peter down too much, but it just baffles me every time.

And you can of course always make the argument that Peter isn’t willing to risk his secret identity, but that doesn’t mean he can’t use a fraction of his abilities to incapacitate his kidnappers and get away.

So, keeping that in mind, I wrote a little crack piece. By the by, Tony hasn’t sold the Tower and I am completely and blissfully ignoring Infinity War. Thanos can chuck himself into a freaking volcano.

Tony was in his workshop, deep in an inner debate with himself about re-enabling the BabyMonitorProtocol. He knew that, in a way, it was an invasion of privacy and might even be interpreted as distrust in Peter’s abilities and resposibilities as a hero. And that was definitely NOT what he wanted to convey. Peter had a unique and diverse skillset. With the right training (it had taken 3 weeks for them to figure out what actually worked for Peter) he had come a long way in properly using and controlling his powers, without having to compromise himself by holding back too much in a fight. Peter knew when a situation required back up and would never risk the safety of civilians by entering a fight that had him hopelessly outmatched. Peter knew that Tony would always, always, come when he called. (They had had a very, v.e.r.y. long discussion about that. ) Tony trusted the kid.

BUT, that didn’t change the fact that what the kid was doing, was dangerous.

Spiderman didn’t just swing around tall buildings (at speeds and altitudes that gave Tony heart palpitations), or rescue little kittens out of trees.

Spiderman caught out of control vehicles in busy traffic. Spiderman leapt into burning buildings. Spiderman got fucking SHOT AT!

Tony had, of course, improved the suit and made it as sturdy and safe as humanly possible. But considering that the material couldn’t be too thick, so as not to impede his sticky appendages, nor too hard, so as not to restrict his super-human flexibility, there were simply limits to what could be done. One of those limits, frustratingly, was that Tony hadn’t yet found a way to make the suit bulletproof.

And yes, Peter had the ability to dodge gunfire (thank god for the spider-sense), but that didn’t automatically make things safer. Superheroes were just as likely (sometimes even more so) to make mistakes as the next person. Sometimes you underestimate your opponent. Sometimes you zig, when you should zag. Sometimes things just go wrong.

Add to that how Peter liked to hide injuries from his aunt as well as his mentor/dad (because Tony had signed the shit out of those adoption/shared custody agreement papers as soon as May Parker had given her blessing), and it was really no wonder that Tony found himself counting new grey hairs on a weekly basis.

He would just feel that much better if the BabyMonitorProtocol was back up and he would be appraised of every little scuffle, altercation and injury as they happened, all the time, 24 fucking 7. No, he was not an overprotective helicopter parent, stop laughing Rhodey!

“Incoming call from Peter Parker.” Friday’s voice cut suddenly through his thoughts.

Tony took a deep, apprehensive breath. Just because the kid called right then didn’t have to mean he was in trouble. This could be a purely social call. Get it together.

“Put him through, Fri. Hey Pete.”

“Hi Mr. Stark!” Good, the kid sounded neither distressed, nor hurt. There was no gunfire, screaming or sounds of explosions in the backround. Just a social call then, thank god.

“Whats up, kid? Someone treat you to a churro again?” He smirked at hearing the put upon sigh from the other end of the line.

“Is anyone ever going to let this go? She was a nice lady and it was a yummy snack. I regret nothing.”

“Of course. So, what’s shaking? You are not calling to bail on me for our lab time later, are you?” He leaned back in his chair, relaxed smile on his lips.

“Oh god, please, no one says ‘what’s shaking’ anymore, Dad.” Peter whined and Tony’s smile grew. They had a weird relationship with names. For Tony it was Kid, Spiderling, Underoos, any variation he could come up with for the name Peter, and (the newest one) Son. While Peter liked to cycle through Mr. Stark, Tony, and more and more regularly, Dad. If Tony’s eyes were a teeny, tiny bit wet the first time Peter called him ‘Dad’, no one had to know.

“Anyway, the reason why I’m calling is,... uhm... well....” UhOh. That was Peter’s ‘I may be in trouble’ voice.

Tony snapped back upright in the chair, as the kid continued.

“...the thing is, I’m currently in the office of the Captain of the New York Police Department, and-”

“WHAT?!” He sprang up off his seat. “Friday! My suit! Now!”

“No, no no no no. Wait! Tony, wait! Calm down. It’s nothing bad”

Yeah, he was NOT reassured. The kid had once stumbled into the tower after patrol, hand pressed against a six inch long stab wound gushing blood, and claimed it was ‘nothing bad’.

“What happened? Why are you in the Captains office? Are you hurt?” The Ironman suit continued to assemble around his body as Friday opened one of the floor to ceilling windows for his take off.

“Not hurt, I promise. It’s just that Captain Stacy thought this call would better be made in privat and the bullpen was kinda loud, though there was this really cool guy who-”

“PETER!” This kid! (”5 minutes until you arrive at the NYPD, Sir.”)

“Right, right, sorry. So, I was just on my way home, minding my own business, and maybe hoping that that cute german shephard would be out in his yard again and I could play with him a little and NOT THE POINT, sorry, so, me just walking along the street, totally innocent, and then suddenly this white panel van parks a few feet in front of me.”

Oh god. That was exactly how crime and horror movies started, wasn’t it? Was now the right time to have a panic attack? (”4 minutes to destination.”)

“And then this man gets out, pretty buff and tall and I was just a little bit jealous, because like, I can benchpress a french frying* [*earlier post on how Peter avoids a ‘language lecture’ by swearing using food names] bus with no sweat and still have total noodle arms, and how is that fair”

“PETER!” This KID! (”3 minutes to destination”)

“Sorry! So, the guy asks me for directions to cityhall, but he doesn’t get it when I explain it to him, so he asks if I would ride with him and show him. And, like, my spidey-sense is this low buzz, like, this guy is probably up to no good, but not a real threat to me, right? And he said he would drive me back later and that he had some candy as a thank you, so-”

“You got into the van?!” Forget the panic attack, his fucking heart was about to stop!

“Did you not hear me mention the part where he promised me candy?”

Which arm was supposed to hurt again when you got a heart attack? This fucking kid! (”2 minutest to destination.”)

“Anyway, I climb into the passenger side and the guy starts the engine and all of a sudden my spidey sense is blaring and I slip down in the seat, before the guy that was hiding in the back can press his knife to my throat.”

Oh god oh god oh god.

“So then I grab the hand and twist it just a little, until he has to let go of the knife, and he screams and the knife falls right beside the hand brake. But then the buff guy driving makes a grab for it, so I punch him in the face, right? But I may have punched just a little bit too hard, cause next thing I know, he is unconcious and his head has fallen on the car horn in the middle of the steering wheel. And now the van is still going, but no one is steering and I still have the other guy’s arm at this angle that must have been incredibly uncomfortable for him, because he just keeps on screaming and the donuts* car horn is really french frying* loud and it’s all giving me a headache. So I pull back and knock the guy behind me out, too, and grab the wheel and yank it to the other side, because we were about to hit a tree. I get the buff guy off the steering wheel, and thank god, finally some quiet, but his foot is still on the gas, so I grab the hand brake and yank it up. And then the tires are squeeling and the engine is stuttering and I might have knicked my hand on the knife that had fallen there earlier, so I’m a little startled and yank the wheel again and then the van crashed into a parking police car.”

There is a moment of silence, Tony can see the NYPD building in the distance. (”30 seconds to destination, boss. May I suggest some mild breathing exercises to slow your heartbeat down some?”)

“But don’t worry! By that time the van had slowed down enough that the damage wasn’t too bad. Though Detective Mahoney spilled his coffee all over his shirt.” Ironman landed in front of the station, drawing quite a few looks all around him. “So I explain everything to the Detective Mahoney and his partner Detective Sanchez, who is like super cool and promised to help me study for my next spanish exam.” The suit dissembled around him and formed into a suitcase in his hand as Tony Stark, clad in a faded band shirt and soft blue pyjama pants (it was supposed to be his day off and he had, for once, slept in), ran up the stairs (as if he would waste time waiting for the elevator) to where he knew the Captains office was (Thanks Friday). “Turns out, these guys have been kidnapping kids like this for the last four weeks and were waiting to get two more to ship off to some kind of slave trade ring in a foreign country. So the Detectives interrogated them and got the location for where they are hiding the poor, missing kids and like half the precinct is on their way to free them.” One more floor and he would be there. At least now the heavy breathing could be attributed to running up so many fucking stairs. “I tried to slip away and get in the suit and follow the police cars, make sure the kids are alright and all, you know? But then the Captain came up to me and clapped me on the shoulder and was like ‘Good job, kid. That was very brave, but now lets call your parents and make sure you get home safe.’ And then he led me into his office and sat me on his couch, which is nowhere near as comfy as the ones in the tower, but whatever, and told me to call someone and that he would come back to talk to us a little later.” It wasn’t every day that Tony Stark bursts through the doors of the Major Crime unit of the New York Police Department in the clothes he slept in, so the officers in the room could be excused for any open mouthed gaping that may have taken place. “And, you know, Aunt May just came off a double shift in the hospital and I really didn’t wanna wake her, so I thought I better call you instead. So, can you come over to the NYPD? But like, don’t stress. If you have something important to do, that’s totally okay. I can just hang around for a few hours until May has gotten enough sleep and call her then. And maybe Detective Sanchez will-”

Peter was interrupted from his call when the door to the Captains office nearly flew off its hinges as Tony ran right in, a desperate, slightly manic look in his eyes. “Oh, that was quick. Hey Dad.”

THIS FUCKING KID!

And yes, fine, it may not be much of an exaggeration when Peter later complained that Tony cuddled him on that couch for the better part of 20 minutes. It may also be true that he threatened to sue everyone and their mother more than once, everytime someone from the police department tried to interrupt his, very justified, fussing over his kid. He also makes damn sure that Peter doesn’t leave his direct proximity for the entire time they stay at the station. Peter gave his official statement, they got to watch when the freed kids were reunited with their overjoyed, tearful parents, who all come over to thank Peter in person for his part in finding their children, and Detective Sanchez gave Peter her card and personal number for those spanish lessons. During all that time, Tony has managed to inform May, Pepper and Happy about everything, and the three soon join them at the station. While May and Pepper take over fussing over Peter and hugging him to death (the kid sends him a very nasty look over the womens shoulders), Tony is already on his phone, programming Karen to reengage the BabyMonitorProtocol and sending the code to one of his Stark watches that he is going to fucking weld around the kids wrist so he can never take it off. He doesn’t even care how much Rhodey laughs at and calls him an overprotective helicopter parent again later.

#peter parker #tony stark #iron dad #spider son #tony is a stressed dad #attempted kidnapping #peter is a badass #bamf peter #iron man #spiderman #op lurafita

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radarbrow2-blog · 5 years

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Comparing Eagles players to characters from the Avengers Endgame

Since it’s a Friday in the middle of May, I thought we could do something a little different. With the new Avengers movie fresh on everyone’s mind, I wanted to take a stab at seeing which Eagles players would best fit the role for each Avengers character. Please note, and I hope I don’t even need to say this, that the genders and races of each of the characters has not been considered in this exercise. Instead, the abilities of the superheros as well as the demeanor of each character has been. Also, NO SPOILERS ARE IN THIS ARTICLE BECAUSE I’M NOT A MONSTER!!! Enjoy and have a great weekend!

Captain America - Carson Wentz

Oh Captain, my Captain. Just as Captain America metaphorically represents the great country of The United States of America, Carson Wentz represents everything Philadelphia. The man scored a TD with a torn ACL for Heaven’s sake. In addition to this, Captain America is known for being a militarily trained expert field tactician, while Wentz is a trained football field tactician.

Iron Man - Chris Long

From the day Chris Long signed with the Eagles, he has been a fan favorite, just as Tony Stark is with Marvel fans. Like Stark, Long is known for his witty sense of humor and his affinity for nerd culture (aka the finer things in life). Long even has enough money that he is content donating his entire salary for a year to charity while still giving his best day in and day out. Finally, like Iron Man, Long’s days with the Eagles could potentially be numbered.

Thor - Lane Johnson

When I think of Thor, I think of a strong, likable guy with a quick sense of humor and a slight accent. Who better fits this mold than our guy, Lane Johnson? Not to mention, who else would be able to pick up that hammer?

Hulk - Jason Peters

JP, like Dr. Bruce Banner, is wise beyond his years. He known for being the largest man in the room, and his loyalty is unquestioned. In the newest film, Hulk even does his best to grow a cute little beard, which would only make him an even better fit.

Spider-man - Nelson Agholor

Peter Parker and Nelson Agholor are both known for their friendly demeanor and seemingly innocent persona, yet when the daylight fades, both have been known to find themselves smack dab in the middle of some trouble. Jokes aside, Nelson is a small, quick player who can easily be underestimated, just as a teenager from NYC who doubles a super hero could be.

Star-Lord - Jason Kelce

Seriously, which other player could you envision walking across the surface of a foreign planet singing “Come and get your love” by Redbone? Peter Quill has become known for his silly sense of humor, and if giving an all-time great speech in a Mummers costume isn’t silly, I don’t know what is.

Drax the Destroyer - Fletcher Cox

Straight from Drax’s Wikipedia page: “[Drax’s] powers included superhuman strength, stamina and resistance to physical injury as well the ability to project concussive blasts [of energy]. Tell me that’s not our boy, Cox? I’m not sure how literal Fletcher takes things, but I am sure that I wouldn’t want to find out.

Rocket Raccoon - Ronald Darby

No one would be intimidated — or at least that intimidated — by a lone raccoon, right? However if that raccoon has armor, a pistol, a jet pack, and a group of super-power-possessing friends, like Rocket does, it’s a completely different story. That’s kind of how Darby is. He’s really not that big of a threat by himself, but when paired with a menacing defensive line and a strong safety net (see what I did there?) behind him, Darby is capable of being a solid player.

Groot - Brandon Brooks

While I must admit, BB has a tremendous Twitter presence, but I can’t honestly say that I’ve heard him say a word in real life. All I’m saying is that I can’t rule out the possibility that he can say anything other than “I am Brandon.”

Nebula - Zach Ertz

We are currently experiencing what is likely Nebula’s cinematic climax, and similarly Zach Ertz has probably peaked out. This isn’t a bad thing, however, as Zach Ertz is one of the most dangerous players at his position in the game, just as Nebula is one B.A.M.F.

Black Panther - Malcolm Jenkins

Named after the large cat of the same name, the Black Panther is known for his ability to hunt down his enemies, rarely letting one slip by. Jenkins dominates the field and is often found “hunting down enemies” himself. In addition to this, the Black Panther is the leader of a massive army, a stylish man, and regularly demonstrates his value off of the “battlefield”. Malcolm Jenkins is known as a community leader who is constantly thinking of ways to make change for the better.

Black Widow - Nigel Bradham

Black Widow is among the best athletes in the Marvel Cinematic Universe and Bradham is certainly a monster of an athlete himself. Black Widow also has a bio-enhanced body that prevents aging and injury. Maybe Bradham, who has missed just two games over his three seasons with the Eagles, should be tested for that...

Captain Marvel - Jordan Howard

In both cases, the newest addition to the team, but also one not to be feared. If their pasts are any indication of their future, the opposing forces better watch out.

Hawkeye - Jake Elliott

All I’m gonna say is, which Avenger would YOU trust from 61 yards out?

Doctor Strange - Jalen Mills

75% chance Jalen Mills owns a cape

Hard to specifically say why you need either of them on the team, but its undeniable that you do.

Ant-Man - DeSean Jackson

Both Ant-Man and DeSean Jackson are tiny little terrors that you’d rather not face. Both are also capable of blowing up BIG TIME when the enemy is least expecting it. Also, Ant-Man and the Wasp are kind of like a gang, right, Chip?

War Machine - Brandon Graham

War Machine is to Iron Man as Brandon Graham is to Chris Long. Iron Man gets all of the credit but War Machine is the hero I’d rather have if you made me choose.

Falcon - Alshon Jeffery

Sometimes it seems like Alshon can infact fly.

Bucky Barnes - Sidney Jones

Bucky Brooks, or the Winter Soldier, is known for having a bionic arm. He also proudly rocks his long hair and is seemingly going to do something great soon. Sidney Jones, however, is known for having a bionic Achilles Tendon. He proudly rocks his dreads, and is surely going to break out this year. Or next. Or maybe the one after that.

Okoye - Rodney McLeod

Black Panthers right hand man woman. If you mess with Malcolm, you mess with Rodney.

Mantis - Isaac Seumalo

I’m not really sure what either of them are ever doing, but usually when you do see them, you see them in a big way.

Scarlet Witch - Kamu Grugier-Hill

The Scarlet Witch is rarely seen, but when she is, she’s expelling all kinds of energy. KGH has been a monster on special teams and has earned more playing time, just as Scarlet Witch should probably just get her own movie.

Wasp - Derek Barnett

Barnett, like the Wasp, has a fairly new story line that I’m looking forward to seeing through. The potential is there, but what does the future have in store?

Malik Jackson - Korg

I honestly don’t know that much about either, but they’re both pretty damn intimidating and I’m just happy they’re on our side.

Source: https://www.bleedinggreennation.com/2019/5/10/18535500/comparing-eagles-players-characters-avengers-endgame-carson-wentz-captain-america-marvel-movie-nfl

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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dasklaus · 7 years

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Big wall of text incoming.

This is going to be my first text post on tumblr.

Originally, this was a porn blog. I guess I'm just not that into porn. This is a feelings-dump because I currently have an excess of feelings.

I never talked much about trans issues, least of all about my own. Like many, I keep thinking I'm fake, not trans enough or just weird. That's what I tell people, too: don't mind the male name, I'm just weird about gender. Don't worry about it. I minimize being trans all the time - then again, I truly don't think about it that often. It seeps into my life in small ways, rarely big ones, and I can easily overlook it, distract myself, pretend it's not happening. It's why I haven't transitioned yet.

When I was a kid, I had bigger problems. I had difficulties forming connections with people - still have, to be honest - while desperately wishing for friends - still do, to be honest. I was bullied to varying degrees, changed schools a lot, and regularly got beaten by my older brother while my helpless parents had long patient talks with both of us that didn't change anything ever except made it clear to me that talks were supposed to help but the nice, peaceful environment I lived in just manifested in unusual ways or I just failed to experience it as peaceful. To not turn this into a sob story: I was, in hindsight, really bad at interacting with other kids (in the sense of being an ignorant, arrogant asshole) and didn't take any initiative in solving my own problems, expecting my nice, peaceful environment to manifest itself somehow.

I was raised pretty gender-neutral. My clothes were blue, I waded in lego and books and while I tried to get hobbies like the cool kids did, nothing stuck. As I didn't connect to others naturally and felt a profound otherness (which I mostly attribute to my poor yet snobbish upbringing, my giftedness and - arguably more importantly - my knowing about it), I tended to look for ways to be special, to not do the mainstream thing because I was different, therefore had to do everything differently. When my parents let me choose an instrument to learn I chose drums. Impracticability and long waiting lists took this off the table, so I went for harp. I have no idea what I was thinking.

Being trans feels like that: like a bad choice based on a childish way of looking at myself, on not knowing how to present myself. Like making things weirder for myself on purpose.

I didn't have any clear signs of tomboyishness. I was shy, prone to anger and despair, relentless argueing and both a huge slob and a lover of lists. This is, as far as I can tell, the whole picture - no hidden dreams or interests that put me clearly on the feminine or masculine side of how one might expect a child with strong gender expressions to behave. Gender expressions I did not do.

I vividly remember a neighbourhood friend (the only one that I had and that I adored and looked down on all at once) asking which super power I would like if I were to choose. I went for switching sex at will. Nowadays I'd probably say shape-shifting, but back then, while a lot of things seemed neat, they only appealed to me for money or fame (or advancing science - this was a factor in my appraisal process). This one was the one I wanted for myself, that I would still want even if I had to keep it a secret. This is the only memory I have that tells me something might've been up even way back.

There were some indicators later on that I use to reassure myself. I wanted to go as a man for Fasching (a yearly costume party at school in February) in seventh grade, did, and was mistaken for Charly Chaplin most of the day. There were girls dressed as cowboys, male superheroes and actually Charly Chaplin, and my feelings of specialness faded away, replaced with shame at my generic costume and bitter envy for the people who didn't seem to make anything out of wanting to be boys sometimes.

In eight grade, I started hanging out with the sixth-grade boys, who were closer in age to me, as I started school at five instead of six or seven. Among those kids, a favourite past-time was a kind of wrestling done sitting cross-legged on the ground, both fighters trying to wrestle the other one to the ground. I loved it. Physical contact in general made me nervous, but I took to consensual violence with ease. Being one of the boys, even just for short periods of time, was the best feeling I got out of that time. I changed schools not long after.

I also developed a malformed spine by hiding my growing breasts. I started to hate my body in a way that I had no way of ever fixing.

We went for an excursion to a LGBT resource center. I got hung up on the question of lesbian sex, having started entertaining penis-in-vagina type of fantasies recently that pointedly omitted my own body or presence but were abstract, voyeuristic in nature. Nothing I could imagine girls doing compared to the coming simultaneously while getting physically wrapped up in each other I envisioned. Nonetheless, when asked to sort ourselves into corners of the room based on things like whether or not we've ever been in love (I had not), wanted to have kids (I did, the idea being that I'd live with lots of self-made playmates who all loved me by design) or whether or not we could possibly see ourselves being anything other than hetero, I felt queer. Not necessarily attracted to girls, but queer. I don't remember if I dared go into the queer corner, or whether anyone else did.

In ninth grade, I both fell in love and got a new name. She was the prettiest girl in the world by far, all eyebrows and carefully cultivated elegance, a dark lady of profound thought and inspiration and style, older and wiser and cleverer than I could ever hope to become. I learned her time-table to randomly bump into her between classes, changed my elective course from physics to math to share a class with her and worshipped the ground she walked on. I had a mutual friend tell her about my feelings after she went for a year abroad to the US, to enable her to reject me from a safe distance, which she, of course, did.

My name got discovered in a wallet a classmate won at a biology competition. I've been telling this story for years but recently discovered it was false - the dummy license in it had the last name I chose as my pseudonym on it, but a different first name. I must have chosen that independently. I made my class call me that (male) first name, and even got some teachers on board. A kid in a parallel class we had some course I don't remember with asked me (once, but loudly) whether I'd have surgery. I confidently told him I would as soon as I was eighteen, four years down the line.

The catch is that, while this became common knowledge among the students, I never told anyone. I have, to this day, never actually explicitely come out as trans. I introduced myself with my chosen name, asking not to worry about it. I evaded the rare follow-up question about what it meant. I expressed discomfort at being grouped with girls, having finally found my place among the guys at the new school (if you want a number, my sixth one. Explaining that would take another post of this length). I never talked to my parents, though, nor a doctor. I never said "I want to be a guy" or "I am a guy", I just tried to be a guy best I could - not an especially macho or stereotypical guy, either, just a guy.

That year, we actually watched a documentary at school about trans people. The only thing I remember is a group of fat bearded men sitting around a table and one of them saying he wished he'd have known about this treatment and all this when he was fourteen. That struck a chord. Here I was, fourteen, and now I knew.

Knowing didn't help one bit.

Not knowing what to say, to whom, and how to say it, rightfully suspecting that the people around me didn't know any more than me, I wrote a letter to EMMA, a feminist publication we got at home. I figured they'd know stuff about sex and gender and what to do. They told me to wait and (I told them a bit about myself, including my love for astronomy) that girls can be astronauts, too. While I know fully well that this was meant well, it shattered my hopes of insight and qualified help. I didn't reach out again for more than ten years, when I finally applied for a legal name change (a process that took over four years but got approved recently).

In tenth grade, I developed a crush on a guy. As a large part of my legitimacy in my mind hinged on my attraction to women (the one women I was still very much attracted to simultaneously), this was a problem for me. Still, I made the effort of knocking on his door, stammer out some feelings and getting politely rejected, never having expected anything else.

I found an article about trans men in a magazine. Some were said to help themselves prior to hormonal transition with excessive exercising and anabolic drugs prescribed by their doctor. The next day, I went to the nearest pharmacy and asked for anabolics. The pharmacist took in my fourteen year old weak and tiny physique and started laughing so hard she could not talk. I left red-faced and have never since set foot in that pharmacy again, even though it's the one closest to my home.

Lots of things happened in the following years. After school, I kept the name on the internet and some circles, but didn't dare it in others. I became clinically depressed, mostly for isolation reasons and being generally broken, weird, particular and incompatible with many aspects of adult or even teenager life. I took years working out how to be a person, a work in progress that is less obvious nowadays and much easier, but still there. When the occasional trans thoughts and semi-annually late-night ftm research binges didn't disappear even when I got myself a bit more together, into a successful "hetero" relationship (my first and to this day only LTR) and into friendships who exclusively knew me under my birth name, I felt the growing need to do something about that. I started using my male name with new people and workplaces again. I applied for a name change, which required several visits with psychiatric experts, to whom I lied about my boyfriend, fearing his existence and hetero-ness would influence the verdict, but nothing else.

Being with a hetero man led me to consider hormone treatment as a far-away possibility at best, not for here and now in any case. Fear of being alone again and fear of making myself effectively undateable for no practical gain, fear of regret and fear of the irreversibility of some of the changes made me procrastinate and ignore the issue of where to go from here, long-term.

Now my name is approved, I feel none of the ambiguity and doubt I expected. I spent two weeks feeling nothing but happy about it, showing off my new ID at every opportunity, booking tickets in my new name, informing boss and colleagues, changing my email signature at work and not regretting anything at all. And I think to myself: onto the next step.

Which brings me to today. My euphoria made me call the clinic and make an appointment for hormone treatment (having gotten the necessary info from the experts mentioned earlier). More than a week later, I finally told my boyfriend, who has, so far, steadily ignored any and all gender issues, not caring and feeling enlightened for not caring. And he cannot imagine staying with me through this. And I cannot fault him for feeling that way.

I love him. Being in an open relationship, I'm free to love others, too, which one might think makes it easier, but it doesn't. He is not replaceable. To make matters worse, I just got rejected from the only person that ever made me consider breaking the rules of our open relationship, which hurts hurts hurts like hell but is not something I can really bitch about because I already have someone and wanting someone else is just greedy. We - my partner and I - had plans to marry (now legally a civil union in our case) (he has the prettiest last name in the world, also I want to be with him forever, also taxes and insurance).

I want to spend the rest of my life with him.

I don't want to spend the rest of my life as a woman.

There is no solution here.

What I really need right now is cuddles and for someone to tell me it will be alright, but I suspect it won't. I don't know how to deal with this.

Thanks for reading.

#personal

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