#not putting the full comic because its CRINGE AND STUPID

[guard-en]

day 74 shitty fucking napkin doodle bleh blehehh ehbbbleeheh bbleeh idk whose putting them in a headlock. you're crazy. don't talk to me.

#not putting the full comic because its CRINGE AND STUPID #i hate #auuguhhhh #guarden/art #hank madness combat #madness combat #madcom #madness combat fanart #madness project nexus #hank j. wimbleton #hank j wimbleton #small artist #hank j. wimbleton daily #hank wimbleton #hank motherfucker wimbleton #madcom hank #madness combat hank

[nightshadehoney]

I never watched James Somerton's shitty Killing Stalking video because I was trying to be good to myself and avoid something that I knew would make me very angry. In fact, I never watched any of his stuff because the fact that he made a video like that was enough to discount any thing he ever had to say (also I heard about the Celluloid Closet plagiarism).

But man, is the James Somerton discourse bringing a lot of Killing Stalking-related feelings back up for me. Because I'm mad; I'm still so mad. There are a suprising amount of people on social media who are saying they never watched any of his stuff except for the Killing Stalking video. I'm annoyed not just to find out that the vid had that sort of reach and influence, but also because Somerton's unmasking hasn't seemed to make people reasses the validity of the kind of thing he was saying. People are just now being like "hmm I think this guy might have Issues With Women" but that doesn't warrant any reflection on what exactly the motivation is of people who complain about women enjoying a niche webcomic? Because I don't actually believe you're concerned about the influence of some obscure piece of media when you advertise its existence to your large audience many of whom had not heard of it and would never have heard of it but for your transparent outrage porn video. It's rage bait and the target was women that are perceived as straight. A big channel has publicized the fact that they excised a section that endorsed the opinions in this video from their own because they became aware of Somerton's plagiarism and dishonesty (presumably; if it was actually because they recognized his views were coming from a sexist place I would welcome a clarification). And you know, I don't think that's a good look actually. That you needed to be told he was a bad person and couldn't idependently put together that the misogynist man was saying misogynist things.

The comic ended years ago and the fandom has gone mostly quiet, but to this day people are still the peddling the"fujoshi/stupid teenage girls who don't know what's good for them are shipping these characters because they are too braindead to realize it's not a romance; it's a horror, two things I believe are mutually exclusive. I am smarter than all of these cringe degenerates" bullshit. It's in the comments of the hbomberguy video even; one comment was such a gross misrepresentation of the series that my friend needed to talk me down from getting into a pointless youtube comments argument (bless him) because these people are officially making me lose my marbles.

This narrative is full of shit, it's demonstrably not fucking true. You can go on the artist's twitter right now and its full of her retweeting shippy fanart of that pairing readers were apparently never intended to ship.

(I don't think Koogi knows or cares about James Somerton; she just reblogs the works of fans who tag her. This made me laugh though).

Now this is all speculation because he died decades before social media existed, but I think if Nabokov was alive today his twitter would not be full of Humbert Humbert x Dolores Haze fanart. And yet, I have unironically seen people compare shipping Sangwoo and Bum in Killing Stalking with the misreading of Lolita as a precocious sexual temptress more than once.

And this isn't me saying that Killing Stalking is the disgusting"pro-sexualized abuse" comic that tumblr purity police used to characterize it as either. One of these days I'm going to go truly bonkers and end up banging pots and pans on the street corner, yelling at random innocent passerbys about how stories about romantic and sexual relationships are not required to be Hallmark movies. You can make art about the negative, dark, and troubling parts of these feelings and relationships without creating a pat morality tale. You don't need to approach media analysis like your 7th grade teacher has assigned you an essay on explaining what a novel's "message" is.

Nobody, not the author and not the fans, genuinely thinks that Sangwoo and Bum have a healthy or aspirational relationship. This hypothetical person that does not understand the relationship is toxic doesn't exist. Because girls and women, even the ones having cringey fandom fun on tiktok or whatever, are not so stupid and naive that they are unware that breaking someone's legs and locking them in a muder basement is bad. The type of concern troll rhetoric Somerton employed in his video is directed near exclusively at women interested in men and there's a reason for this. Women are not responsible for abuse that men do to them; nobody is responsible for their partner abusing them. If I never saw people spit this bullshit again it would be too soon.

#this is not usually the kind of post I make here because I really try to make this tumblr a positive mental space for me but ffs #james somerton #killing stalking

[meruz]

once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous) 

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury​ Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL. 

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool​ UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close. 

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually  that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

#ask #trying this new thing where i tag people in the body of the post instead

[luvteez]

at your service

pairing: san x fem!reader genre + tags: smut | humiliation (in the form of wearing a maid costume bc san is a kinky weeb), begging, master kink, cockwarming, edging, unprotected sex wc: 2.2k

A smirk creeps on San’s lips the moment the door flies open. He’s made himself comfortable on the bed, legs crossed and head resting against the headboard. Before he can let out the comment that’s been lying heavy on the tip of his tongue, you lash out first.

“I fucking hate you for making me wear this.”

“Yes, you told me that around six times already,” he drawls, visibly amused by the situation. “But we had a deal. You lost, so suck it up.”

The neckline plunges too low for your liking, and the skirt — can it even be considered a skirt? — is so short that you’re bound to flash the panties you’re wearing underneath whenever you as much as dare move. Perhaps you’d find the garter belt cute, if only you weren’t wearing it with this skimpy version of a maid uniform. How much did San pay for this? Actually, you don’t want to know.

San gets off the bed, eyes trained on you the entire time. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth once his gaze settles on your exposed legs, making you clench your thighs together. The way he blatantly eye-fucks you has you growing wet, and you fucking hate it. It’s one thing to be put through this humiliation, but wearing this maid outfit and being aroused? Your ego can only take so much.

Once he’s standing in front of you, the power imbalance couldn’t get any more obvious. There’s him, wearing a nice dress shirt with the top buttons undone and black jeans, and then there’s you in nothing but a slutty rendition of a servant costume. The look he sends you makes you tear your eyes away from him and heartbeat rise to your ears, and you just hope for the better that he doesn’t point it out.

Luckily, he doesn’t. Instead, he circles around you, giving you a once-over from every possible angle. It’s silent, save for the sound of San’s footsteps bouncing off the walls. You wait for him to say something with bated breath, but that never comes. Eventually, he stops right behind you, and you’re pretty sure he’s fixated on the part of your ass that the skirt doesn’t cover.

The silence is deafening, unbearable even, but you don’t plan on losing this unsaid game. If San already has you dressed as degradingly as it can get, you’re not going to entertain him any further. But then an arm wraps around your waist and pins your back against his chest, while another hand snakes down under your skirt and cups your covered cunt. You manage to bite back a moan at the sudden contact, but your body betrays you with how you jolt.

“Cute,” San snickers, before propping his chin on your shoulder. “Just adorable.” His breath is hot against your neck as he continues to put his fingers to use. He traces your folds over the panties that are slowly turning damper by the second, toys around with your clit, and even dares to shove some of your underwear into your entrance once you’re leaking enough to his liking. You struggle to stand still on both legs as he does how he pleases, deadset on withstanding him, even if this torture is the cost. 

“I hate you,” you say through gritted teeth, but it comes out rather comical when your knees finally give up on you and you lean on him for support. The subtle moan that follows suit doesn’t help either. San only smiles against your skin before he pushes your underwear aside and slides two digits in you. The messy technique is all over the place, but he curls his fingers in all the right angles and hits all of your weak spots precisely, reducing you into a panting wreck. You throw your head back, overwhelmed by everything that’s going on, and when he pays attention to your clit again, you’re on the verge. 

You’re so close that you can taste your sweet release, but then he stops. You’re about to complain because you know full well what he’s done, but he beats you to it first.

“Come again? What did you say? You’re my maid now, so you better act like one. This is part of the deal after all.” Although he’s muttering in your ear, he enunciates every single syllable with clarity that makes your skin crawl. “Apologize.”

You know exactly what he’s after. San wants to break you. wants to crush your pride and make you his little bitch. You’d put up a longer fight, but your mind is just revolving around sansansan and the desperate want to come. 

“Forgive me.” You cringe at how small your voice sounds, defenseless even. 

“Forgive me...?” he echoes as his fingers start to move again, albeit at a much slower pace than before. You’re confused by the implication, and turn all cogs in your brain in hopes of finding the answer. 

Oh.

Oh.

The daunting realization must’ve flashed across your face because San encourages you to speak. If only you could turn your head and face him, you’d give him a piece of your mind. Not that it would’ve been effective anyway, since he has you locked in his hold.

He whispers the first syllable of the word, and you gasp. Your suspicions were right all along, but the confirmation makes you burn up even more in embarrassment. He’s really trying to stoop you down onto the lowest level. 

But you can do it. you tell yourself you can do it. After all, a deal’s a deal.

“M-master. Forgive me, master.”

San wasn’t prepared for the delivery, judging by the way he flinches. To your dismay, he pulls out entirely, leaving you gaping, and the growl that follows is borderline feral. “You’re the maid, not me. You’re the one who should be doing all the work. If you want to cum, then earn it.” With that, he lets go of you before heading back to the bed. 

You’re at a loss of words. All you can do is stare at him as he makes himself comfy on the bed again, but you quickly scramble to him when he motions you towards him with a flick of his hand. 

“What do you want me to do?” San cocks a brow as if to say is this your best? and you quickly rephrase. “Is there anything I can help you with... master?” The word feels so foreign on your tongue, doesn’t slip the right way. You hate how it’s enough of a confirmation that he has the upper hand; a confirmation that you’re nothing but his little servant. 

He smiles lazily. “Sit on my cock.” And that’s all it takes to have you straddling him. You don’t waste any time pulling his pants down along with the black briefs, letting his length spring out. He’s fully hard and flushed red, just looking inviting to suck on, and it has your mouth watering. But then: “Keep the uniform on.”

Of course it was too good to be true. There’s no way San would let you forget who’s in absolute charge here. You can’t complain though, because you’re getting dicked earlier than expected. 

You manage to slide him inside of you without any complications. Breathy moans leave his mouth as you take him in inch by inch, and the way he struggles to lie still is a tiny victory for you. Meanwhile, the way his cock stretches you out has you whining in pleasure, and your head is only spinning around sansansan by the time you’ve taken him up to the hilt.

“Can I— do you want me to move, master?” 

Maybe it was because you got your hopes up to high, but you can’t help how disdain spreads all over you when San reaches for his phone on the nightstand. “No. Sit still.”

And just like that, he dismisses you nonchalantly and starts tapping rapidly on his phone; as if having you sit on his cock while wearing a maid outfit is a daily occurrence. Your jaw nearly drops when you realize he’s fucking texting. You’re about to speak up, but then the thought of him chastising you because you’re supposed to be a maid pops up in your brain. He’d definitely do that, and he’d definitely punish you too. The question is, how far is he willing to go?

You don’t want to find out. 

So you sit still, losing track of time. You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on his lap, trying your best not to think about his cock pulsing in you, but it must’ve been a fucking while when San suddenly tilts his phone, thumbs no longer moving. That’s when you become acutely aware of the camera facing you, and you can’t help but wonder what on earth he’s watching. 

Or what if he’s filming you—

That thought has you unknowingly clenching your walls, and you inhale sharply as you realize he’s still snug in you. Luckily, San doesn’t stir, and that realization has you going on your rounds. Maybe if you do it one more time and he doesn’t budge, you could get away with it—

“A-are you recording?” The words are spoken out loud before you even realize it.

San looks up at you and tilts his head. “No, I’m not. Why?” His voice is dripping in innocence, but then he lifts a brow and you know you’re doomed. “Do you want me to record you? Does it turn you on? Is that the reason why you keep tightening around me? Why you’re quite literally dripping on my cock?” 

Your heart almost stops dead in its tracks. So he noticed the entire time.

“Please let me move, master. Please,” you blurt out, no longer caring about your fucking dignity. “Please let me come on your cock. W-want master to fuck me dumb and show me my place.” The number of times you said please in the last few seconds is pitiful, but you don’t find it within you to care. 

“That would imply that you were thinking in the first place. If you weren’t stupid, you wouldn’t have insulted me and said you hated me.”

“You’re right, master, I wasn’t thinking earlier. Please,” you beg, vision slowly getting blurry. San truly outdid himself and got what he fucking wanted, reducing you to the point where you’re so desperate you’re about to cry. Of course you’re desperate because there’s a cock filling you up but you’re not being fucked. And as if that wasn’t hell in itself, you’re wearing this godforsaken maid outfit because you lost a bet.

“Ssh, I got you, baby.” San’s eyes instantly soften and there’s fondness lying in them. You know what he’s about to ask, but you quickly give him the green light to continue. He mouths you an ‘okay’ and reassuringly squeezes your hand before settling both of his hands on your hips. 

There’s a playful glimmer in his eyes, and then he sets back into character, smugness written all over his face. “You want me to fuck you dumb? I’m gonna fuck your brains out, alright.”

In a split second, his grip on your hips tighten. the next thing you know, he snaps his hips against you, and you’re sent three dimensions over. 

His cock manages to reach you even deeper if that’s humanly possible, and you sob. Your moans overlap with his grunts as he thrusts in and out of you at a brutal pace. You barely find the energy to keep your body up, and it’s all San’s doing as he slams your hips down on him. Eventually, he manages to flip your positions around so that you’re pliant underneath him. He doesn’t let down with the intensity when he fumbles for your clit, and your eyes roll back as you feel your orgasm approaching. 

And just a few seconds before you unravel, he pulls his cock out entirely. Fighting back the tears welling up in your eyes, you choke when he nudges his head against your clit. Precum dribbles down your slit and mixes with your own slick, reminding you that he’s not letting you come again.

“Why?” you wince. San is unfazed by your desperation.

“You wanted me to show you your place, didn’t you?” He slides his head along your slit for good measure, and raises his voice to add, “I’ll show you your place and give you what you want if you do what master wants.”

Despite the buzz in your head, you get the underlying order. San isn’t fucking around and means business, always has, so you muster up the energy to ask, “What do you want, master?”

The sly grin he flashes is the only thing you see. “I want you to say my name over and over again. And once you’ve said it loud enough, I want you to scream it.” He gently grabs your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “I want the whole neighbourhood to know who’s making you feel good.”

#ateez smut #atz smut #choi san smut #san smut #luvsmut

[dankovskaya]

Wooowwwwwww I never expect much of anything from Zack Snyder but watchmen is almost alarmingly faithful to the comic.... obviously they couldn't put everything because that shit is long-winded but every major story beat is present almost exactly the same some of the scenes are visually presented almost exactly the same and many lines lifted word for word..... even the major change of the ending was reasonable and perfectly fitting to the condensed version of the story like what else could they have done.... without the disappearances/black freighter B Plot they couldnt pull the Interdimensional Eldritch Hell Creature out of thin air as much as I love that stupid shit ... i guess he knew not to fuck with it too much. I thought the costumes were unbelievably stupid looking in posters and stuff but they're not That bad in the film itself and doc manhatty is not nearly as awful to look at as he could've been given the cgi reliance necessary..... which brings me to the casting . Ok. Improvements could have been made. Rorschach was basically perfect as a grimy angry little cringe weasel #Redhead and when he blows up its like perfectly acted I won't lie Wig On Mars Hurrm but just about everyone else..... alright whatever I won't get into it. Lauries fine I mean she cant act but she's fine... same with Dan i guess though I can barely stand to look at that man. Adrian wasn't nearly purple/gold enough BTW and he was supposed to be sexy . Manhattan should've had stronger vocal presence cause he borders on Michael Cera sometimes but I won't lie his blue penis is hilarious. Also what the fuck accent was Adrian supposed to have cause at first i thought he was just plain american but then it seemed like they were going for german and then in the last few scenes hes like distinctly british. what went on there.  In general i liked how many lines were taken directly from the comic but some of them were just. Delivered so weakly that it wasn't even satisfying or whatever it makes it more of an eyeroll the one that pops out is lauries “youre such an asshole” orwhatever she says when she tries to shoot Veidt like it was so weak and she wasnt even that upset or crying like she shouldve been... OH Laurie and Jon's argument on Mars is so bad it's literally barely a conversation and it's so short I mean I wouldn't add another 5 minutes to the runtime just for that but him just making her see The Truth and then being like damnnnn that shit is bonkers you are literally you individually.. I guess humanity matters..... it's just silly and I know it's mostly like that in the comic too but like. No it's not. Hm. The movie overall is just really ugly to look at throughout (The Snyder Factor) and some scenes are just full on cringe I can't describe it better than that but basically I enjoyed it.. yeah. Not bad. Especially for something like watchmen cause when I finished reading it I was like HOWWWWW the fuck could someone have possibly made a movie out of this. Whatever. Crazy how I couldn't think of literally anything to say when I finished the actual comic but now I feel like I could make 4 more posts of this length

#also maybe i was just stupid for not noticing until nesr the end in the comic or maybe its just because i already knew #but i feel like the movie made it wayyyyy too obvious that adrian is the ultimate antagonist like ... the pieces didnt fall into place #he was just weird and suspicious from the beginning. maybe its just me. maybe im just mad that hes ugly. #AND HIS STUPID CAT WASNT EVEN PINK!

[jotaros-left-nut]

You apologising to the guys

Jonathan:

You promised you will be there by his side cheering him on, as he took down man after man with only his fists, but when the night came you were nowhere to be seen, He took many hits why you was looking for you in a crowd but you never showed up and you didn’t call to let him know you weren’t coming

The next day you hopped on the Horse carriage and headed straight to Jonathan’s house, you felt so guilty for not showing up but your parents forced you to go to some family friends wedding making it impossible for you to quickly sneak off to make a phone call, you got to the front door and rang the door bell, a servant opened the door, before he could say something to you, you sped past him and all the way to Jonathan’s room, he was sitting at his table in his room, you ran towards him and wrapped you arms around his large shoulders, “I’m so sorry Jonathan I didn’t mean to miss your match yesterday, they forced me to go to a stupid wedding” you barely breathed as you spoke your truth

He laughed at you actions, “Its okay y/n, I knew you would have a good reason why you couldn’t be there” he reassured you, “You let go of him, you're not mad?” He smiled at you “Of course not”

Joseph:

You was helping your boyfriend with his comic collection in his bedroom, you two were moving his collection from his old smaller shelf to a much bigger one, you spend hours sorting them into alphabetical order, and was finished placing everything to where they needed to go

You were exhausted and wanted to stretch your limbs, so you did but you accidentally leaned on the new shelve, all of the contents of the shelf fell to the floor, you turned to you boyfriend who looked at you with so much fury in his eyes, Grt out, you tried, ignored him and tried to apologise but he just, Picked you up and put you to your feet on the other side of the door,

You banged the door to let you back in, but he held the handle so you couldn’t get in, so you sat at the living room and pondered for a while he’s never usually this mad at you, Smokey walks into the room, wondering if your alright, I’m okay you tell him but anyone can see that your upset, so he Asked you what it is to do with the giant across the hall. You nod your head yes

You explain to him what happened and he tells you that jojo will be okay, he just needs some time to calm down, you thank the young boy and take his advice but Joseph refuses to talk to you and it’s been more than a week, you even tried putting on something sexy and surprising him but it didn’t help

You felt helpless until you finally thought of a plan, there was this new addition Spider-Man comic that Joseph hasn’t got yet, you saw it when you were going home from the trip to Italy, you called speedwagon and asked him if he could pay for it and send it to the house, he agreed you waited for about two days until the post, finally it came and in the meantime you bought some wrapping paper and a little bow.

You sneaked into your boyfriends room, who was now sleeping and gently put the comic on his chest, you were careful not to wake him as you closed the door

The next morning you woke up to your boyfriend yanking you out of your bed and excitingly pulling you into a bare hug “You didn’t, your the best girlfriend In the world” he exclaimed he gave you a wet kiss on your cheek, “I knew I chose the right woman”

Jotaro:

You where at the bar with jotaro, polnareff, Joseph and kakyoin, you offered to get the beer, as you were returning to the table with a pitcher beer, you tripped on the carpet that was sticking up and accidentally poured the whole pitcher on the one person you wished you didn’t

You stood up and cringed at the awkward silence, “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!” you heard the man in all black say before getting up, he looked at you like he wanted to rip your head off with his bare hands, you have never felt so small before now, “Aren’t you gonna say anything” he ssked whilst towering over with a face full of anger, “I..i..im….Ssoorrrry, he stared you down, before leaving the bar

A couple hours later, it was late you knocked on Jotaro’s room door, Kakyoin answered it, he gave you a welcoming smile, you smiled back at him and braced yourself for what’s gonna happen next, you saw him lying on his bed in his tank top, he sat up when he saw you, “What the hell do you want?” He shot at you “I bought you some food” you replied back to him putting the food next to him on his bed “And I’ll pay for your clothes to be washed and dried” The room went quiet which you was kinda dreading, “Thanks for the food, and worry about it, Y/n my clothes are already drying as we speak” he opened the bag of food and patted the area of his bed next to him

Josuke:

You were out with your friends at a funfair, and josuke decided to Tag along because his friends were busy, you loved your boyfriend to bits but sometimes, you just needed some time away from him, everything was going well until someone mentioned his hair being out of date and of course he retaliated, you sighed as you watched your boyfriend beat up some random guy in front of a large crowd of people

You was boiling hot from the sun beating down on you all day, your boyfriend finally returned with now bruised fists and now everyone was staring at your group of friends who was now being being kicked out of the event which was embarrassing, you were now not only hot but now annoyed, you sighed and began walking home after saying by to you friends, Josuke made a comment saying how much he was looking forward to going on the rides, You snapped at him “WE WOULDN'T OF GOT KICKED OUT IF YOU WOULD'VE JUST LET THAT COMMENT GO ITS, JUST HAIR JOSUKE” you throat hurt from all that shouting You didn’t even care when your boyfriend began walking the other way, we went home and went to sleep

The next day you regretted everything you said that night, you couldn’t believe you screamed at him especially when you know about his past, this is the second time you’ve called his house phone, his mother answered the phone, which was strange, Josuke always answered, you asked to speak to him but he refused and at school you confronted him and tried to tell him how sorry you were but he wouldn’t say anything to you, how could you make the best boyfriend on the whole world hate you?

You refused to go to school for nearly a week now, you didn’t care about the phone calls in school and the meetings with your parents, the only thing you thought about is him and him only, Your head was hurting and your eyes were puffy because you been crying nonstop and your nose was stuffy

You heard a knock at your door, you ignored it, there was another knock, “Go away mom I’m not going to school” you screamed to the person at the other side of the door, “Good thing I’m not your mom” your head shot up from the pillow, Josuke, “I am sooo sorry, I didn’t mean to say all of these horrible stuff, I love you, tears started to falling more rapidly down your cheeks, he kneeled In front of you, “It breaks my heart to see you like this” All of a sudden your head stopped hurting and your eyes weren't puffy and your nose was now fine, “I came to check on you, it isn’t like you to bunk school” he pulled your body toward him and wrapped your legs around his waist, he lifted you up,”I’m sorry I messed up your day, I know how much you don’t like when I fight” he kissed you on the lips and you returned the kiss “I love u” You told him, “I love you too”

Giorno:

You and giorno was chilling together, he went to buy an ice cream for him and you, he opened his wallet, you noticed there was a picture of a ripped blond haired guy, i'm you read the name dio, he passed the ice cream to you, you took it and thanked him, “Who’s that hottie? In your wallet?” You asked your boyfriend giorno as you took a lick to the soft cream that was resting on the cone” Do you think he’s seriously hot?” He stopped and asked you, “Yeah, he’s totally my type, tall, blond with huge muscles“ you took another lick of the ice cream,“Gross, He’s my dad” he replied walking on leaving you behind, of course you knew that, that's his father they look identical, you were just teasing him to get his reaction

“Giorno wait up” you ran up to him, from behind and swing your arms around his small frame, “Are you mad at me?” you asked, and snaked if your head was around and rested your head on his shoulder, “I’m not mad” he breathed out. “I’m sorry”

#jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo meme #joseph joestar #josuke higashikata #giorno giovanna #jotaro kujo #jjba #jonathan joestar

[ariyadaivaris]

- christ i hate smug mma dudes more than anything on this earth. you're a man doing mma what do you have to be excited about? washing out of ufc and having to resort to a dying professional wrestling company? the systematic oppression of women? the paul brothers? i'm putting nails in your shoes

- the rare and coveted tshirt ariya. phwew he's really uh. he's very. twirls hair. he's kinda

- ariya using a rose metaphor for himself teehee i love being very smart and always right about everything

- "i guess you don't think tony can do it on his own aye" is soooooo so so far from anything that has ever happened between tony and ariya that it's LAUGHABLE. ariya deserves to laugh in his face. cringe and fail broadway-musical-rock-of-ages-male-lead-understudy looking little man. no i'm gonna argue with the kayfabe enemy actually the WHOLE THING up to this point has been ariya trying to prove himself and the subtle tension of tony becoming champion where ariya never has, the only the ONLY time ariya has ever not believed in tony is when he had a full on spiral breakdown towards the beginning of the year when they were questioning splitting them up again for some fucking reason and then it got retconned because DUHHHHHH why would you ever split tony and ariya up just for fun or a giggle when they;ve got the most complex relationship on 205 if you re*you walk away knowing all of this already because you have heard this every week for the last three years but you can still hear me talking in the distance, talking and talking though no one is there...*

- obsessed with this promo actually...ariya's mannerisms are so good he's SO...FUN. i LOVE watching him. he is so self-assured and so charming and there is so obviously so much frustration buried like, an INCH deep beneath all of it. it takes grey pushing him ONCE for him to lose his verve. im SO interested in this

- the thread here is, of course, "you think tony can't do it on his own?" which, as i've stated, is so far from true or what ariya thinks that it's comic. when ariya spits, "of COURSE tony nese can do it on his own", there are a lot of factors at play. when he concedes that maybe instead of going out there, he WILL stay backstage, there's a lot going on there!!! there IS!!! *voice of an unwell person* there IS a lot going on   - tony doesn't need to prove he can do it on his own, because he already has. ariya's storyline...like i mentioned, he had a weird moment at the beginning of the year, when it seemed like maybe he and tony were going to be split up. that was very much a moment of "okay the writing might change so it's time to set something up" of course but i think it's interesting to think about as a character impulse.   ariya is working to prove he can do things on his own. this has BEEN his thing. he and tony are a team again, but ariya's tried to win with other teams and he's tried to win alone, and though he's successful more often than 205 would have you believe, he's still very shaky. tony has been allowed to work outside of the orbit of other people, and ariya hasn't gotten that chance as much. and, besides that, tony doesn't CARE about it in the same way ariya does. tony...when he gets intense, it's about interpersonal stuff. drew, buddy, cedric, akira, swerve. tony competes with people! ariya competes with himself. does that make sense. i know what i mean. its fine   ariya...is on edge. he likes tony and he likes working with tony, but he hasn't been a competitor like tony is. tony's been very accomodating, stepping back or supporting ariya's feuds and allowing him to do What He Needs To Do, which means ariya can try to work alone without going completely rogue and sabotaging shit. when he tried to cut himself off from tony, it was...well it was retconned. but. that's what he's done before and this time it didn't work because ONE it's just tony and ariya, there's no exacerbating force, and TWO, tony and ariya are, after all, friends. tony wants to be friends with ariya and it is hard work to be friends with ariya but he will do it. so they work it out. and ariya is left feeling very very weird about it, and very very aware of how much he kind of depends on tony, when tony doesn't depend on him, at all. ariya tries to protect tony and gas him up and keep an eye on him to make up for All That He's Done Before and to feel like this friendship is two-sided (which it is, of course, friendship is more than a strategic advantage but that's how ariya's always approached it and it's a hard habit to break), but he doesn't have the wins to back up the feeling of being Worth It as a friend.   it's...i feel like i just sound out of my gourd saying all of this lol and i am. but when ariya bitterly says, "of course tony nese can do it on his own." it's not just the anger at grey being a dickhead towards tony. it's also ariya being painfully aware that tony can do it without ariya's help. there's a threat in that statement, that question that doesn't need to be asked. there's an irony to it. its...think about it this way: if tony was talking to grey about watching ariya's match, grey wouldn't snark about if tony thought ariya could do it. you know?

- that doesnt make sense. whatever <3 im free

- wow love seeing kushida defending the title. imagine if that happened.....on.......205 live

- ariya literally getting successfully talked out of watching tony's match because he wants to show he believes in tony :( i'm hurt...i'm so hurt. so fucked up and twisted. by GREY too, ariya has kind of a BIT with grey huh. him cheating to pin ariya and then going noooo cheating is wrong against all other opponents. the way grey is super hypocritical and shitty to him and then to no one else. ariya almost respecting him for what ariya understands as Someone Who Gets It and then revealing oh no i just really don't like you and want to piss you off. this one dude who keeps targetting ariya specifically in all the ways that most drive ariya into a frenzy and he managed to hit him where it hurts the most enough to drive him into hiding. oughhhh aughhhh   - everyone on 205 being a hater for no reason and seeing ariya trying to deal with his Issues(TM): hm. i can make him worse

- SUNFLOWER JACKET!!!!!!!! SUNFLOWER JIRO. PRECIOUS AND BELOVED. KING AMONG ALL CRUISERWEIGHTS. I DONT KNOW WHO ARIYA IS

- the exaggerated "BOO!""YAY!" cheers for jiro. who am i to say he doesn't deserve them. he DOES. we LOVE jiro. jiro is allowed to homewreck gold standard if he wants to i'll pretend not to see

- UNBREAKABLE!! AUGHHH HE'S SO COOL AND FUN AND HIS MIND IS SIMPLY BEAUTIFUL. jiro has such a fucking bonkers sense of like...dragging a move out. that man can MAKE a sequence! he gets the upper hand and he holds onto it for ages and the entire time its never dull. always with the momentum! always with the visualization of everything around him and how to make it into a show. i just simply think that jiro kuroshio

- HE'S DYINGGGGGGG NOOOOOOOO JIRO. TONY NESE YOU'RE A DEAD MAN. he looks great at this angle though love you weirdo. oh NO your jacket is NOT cool enough to pull this off fkshsdskd  - jiro injecting some MUCH needed humor back into 205 thank you so much

- tony's stupid joth uniform next to jiro's sunflower pattern is SO good. fuckin goth v prep diagram dynamic. creamsicle blogging moments

- OH I LOVE A GOOD PIN. we LOVE a good pin don't we. that kick to tony on the apron ROCKS

- clearly you don't own an air fryer...

- OH HIS FORM IS FUCKING UNREAL. WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!!!!! JIRO KUROSHIO BABEY

- i REALLY like this match. this is 205 to me

- IS THAT A 205 CHANT??? IS THAT A 205 CHANT I HEAR??? OH????? WORM????? ITS BEEN LIFETIMES....................

- ooohohohoohohHOOO tony's recovery from the moonsault. that was. dare i say. Epic

- JIROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

- jiro treating mister nese like a little football. sorry anthony. perhaps you should just be cooler <3

- THAT WAS SO FUN......what a meaty episode this week. harkens back to 205 of old.............i love it. im loving this energy. jiro kuroshio you are going to save 205 i believe it

#205 lb #meta tag #long post - #sorry

[wreckofawriter]

Music and Color

Pairing: Carl Grimes x reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: swears like once

Request: @margaritasfromabag Heyy lol seen ya request something else post and I’d think it’d be real cool for a Carl x reader where they’re like first at the prison and reader finds an old like disc player or something and her and Carl jam out to Pet Sematary by the Ramones? Ya know brings some cute little light to a bleek empty prison

A/n: I forgot I answered this right before my slump. I'm so sorry for the time it took to get this out. I hope you enjoy!!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

    You weren’t sure when the killing no longer hurt. When you no longer flinched at gunshots or cringed at the growls. At some point it all just faded into the background of the grey haze you had begun to live in. After the farm, the small hope you had left for yourself disappeared. Now you just fought to live, to keep breathing. 

    The winter was cruel. The temperature never dropped too far but the constant hordes of the dead and lack of food and sleep kept any comfort far from your small group. Your vision was limited to peering over your gun as you cleared empty house after empty house praying for a dusty can or jar. 

    No one spoke much anymore. A few brief words of direction or a call for help was the limit to your conversation. You and Carl sat in silence in the back seat of the green SUV, gazes fixed out opposite windows. Your talks of action figures and cartoons had died long ago.

    When the cars came to a halt with a loud honk you felt the sudden urge to cry, something you hadn’t done in what felt like years. But instated you’re swallowed harshly and pushed open your door following Carl towards RIck who placed the two of you at the road, looking outwards. Your gun tightened on your hand, thumb rested over the safety. 

    “You think we’ll make it?” Carl’s voice startled you, your head snapping towards him quickly.

    “What?” 

    “I mean do you think we actually have a shot to live?” He repeated solemnly. 

    You hesitated for a moment, “I think its best not to think about it.” you finally answered quietly, eyes falling back to the dusty asphalt of the slopped road. 

    You didn’t notice the way Carl frowned, his own eyes dulling for a brief moment. 

    You felt strange being so loud. Months of silence engraved into your head making the yelling the four of you did feel strange. The walkers knew no difference as they crowed towards you, teeth snapping on the other side of chain link. You watched as Rick and the others cleared what used to be an exercise yard. Your yelling halted once all of the corpses had dropped to the ground. You entered the yard in some sort of strange haze, it didn’t feel real, the safety of your situation had to be false, a mirage. 

    You didn’t sleep that night. Instead, you split your time between staring up at the stars and circling the group, gun in hand as if you would be attacked at any moment. Your eyes often landed on Carl who slept so peacefully it hurt. His soft snores only keeping you more alert of the harsh world around you. 

    The paranoia didn’t seem to go away. Even after two weeks in the fortress you now considered home you felt uneasy. The silence was constantly screaming in your ears as you made yourself busy with mindless chores. Luckily your conversations had picked back up, everyone seemed more open, more normal. You and Carl had started hanging out again, re-reading battered comics and racing to see who could put together their gun faster. You won almost every time although you were pretty sure he let you. But there was always something lingering at the back of your mind, a door left open that everyone else had seemed to shut. So you kept your knife close and your gun closer. A small backpack always full at the end of your bed. 

    You always hummed as you worked. Carl had noticed it months ago, back at the farm as you did laundry or helped with dinner. You did it now as you cleaned your gun, a soft melody that he vaguely recognized filling the large room as you pushed a small brush into its barrel. It was overwhelmingly nostalgic for some reason. Suddenly Carl realized how much he missed music. 

    The tombs were strictly off-limits for you and Carl. Under absolutely no circumstances were you supposed to be traveling down in the dark as walkers roamed around you. Yet here you were, flashlight held in your left hand resting atop your right which held your small handgun, silencer far longer than its barrel. 

    You had both told yourself that this was simply to look for supplies, you both knew you were lying but neither spoke a word of it as you charged through the dank corridors, dodging groups of dead. 

    You cussed under your breath as the growls of walkers echoed in front of you, your way out suddenly closed off. You glanced around frantically, hearing the silenced shots as Carl began to engage with the small horde. 

    An unopened door caught your eye and you ran towards it calling Carl after you. You rammed your body into entry stumbling backward as it didn’t budge. You cursed snatching the doorknob feeling like a fool as it opened with an easy turn. You threw open the door, gun pointed in front of you, beam of light catching nothing as Carl scrambled in after you. You heard it slam shut the click of a lock following and sighed, hands falling to your knees as bangs and growls echoed around you. 

    “Well, we’re fucked.” You muttered slumping forward to your knees and hiding behind your hands. Maybe if you stayed there for a while everything would just go back to normal and it would be your mother banging on your bedroom door because you had locked her out again. Not some inmate’s corpse in the tombs of a prison you had dared to call home. 

    Carl glared down at you, everything in him screaming at him to be mad. It made him angry to see you give up so quickly. After everything you had been through you just gave up the fight. He swallowed his anger with difficulty 

“We’re fine.” He spoke with more certainty than he had, “Just help me look around okay?”

    You said nothing but got to your feet, Carl began towards the small corridor at the back of the room.

    “Why were we even down here?” You asked no one imparticular.

    Carl stopped eyes falling to his boots, “We need supplies.” 

    You scoffed, the sound of a drawer being busted open following, “No. Why were we really down here?” The boy didn’t respond but instead continued down the small hallway of darkness, eyeing the corner up ahead. 

    “We’re down here because we’re idiots.” You answered your own question, “We were down here for no other reason than to kill some already dead pricks and now we are going to die locked away in some cupboard like mice, after everything we are going to die being stupid k-”

    “Hey!” You whipped around to see Carl beaming at you, “I found a way out.” 

    You bit back a grin, swinging open the last door of the old desk eyes widening as you peered inside, “I found something way cooler.” 

    You crossed your fingers in a silent prayer as you shut the top of the small electronic. You pressed play and squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation. Suddenly music began to flow through the speakers of the CD player. You jumped to your feet tacking Carl in excitement as raw guitar filled the room. He stumbled slightly back hitting the wall as you continuted to squeal into his ear breaking away and placing a messy kiss on his forehead. 

    You didn’t notice his cheeks bloom with deep red as you threw yourself onto your bunk giggling lightly. The music filled your surroundings in the most pleasant way, you felt like you were being buried in the thump of the drums and rumble of the bass. You slipped your eyes shut and sighed listening to the loud lyrics of a song you had never heard before. The grey of your vision had filled with color behind your lids as you hummed lightly to the melody. 

    Carl stared at you, eyes filled with a sense of admiration and yearning. You moved over slightly patting the spot beside you, never re-opening your eyes. Carl smiled softly slipping beside you and grinning. He let his eyelids fall, the music trapping him in a moment of euphoria as your knuckles brushed against his, the soft hum of your voice in his ear. 

Masterlist

#carl grimes x you #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x oc #carl grimes x y/n #twd #twd imagine #twd daryl #twd negan #twd rick #rick grimes #the walking dead fandom #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead

[klariwitch]

You’ll Love Me Again

No one ever really mentioned all the symptoms that comes with heartbreak. For one, your heart quite literally hurt. It burned. Not in the sorts that felt like heart burn, but more so like it was falling. The feeling of weightlessness. Yet, at the same time you felt as heavy as can be. From there its just full on misery. Y’know how people will say they feel like they just got hit by a truck? Yeah. Yeah its that.

“I’m uh, how do i put this without you going all vigilante mode on me? I’m into your sister,” Kon was grinning stupidly now.

Oh!

oh.

Tim felt his heart sink and then the nausea began to settle in.

“My? My what?” Tim shook his head in disbelief. Kon didn’t like him. He liked-

“Cass. Kon likes Cass, Steph,”

“Yknow when I see him next, you best believe I’m bringing that kryptonite ring, I’m gonna-“

“I feel sick to my fucking stomach,” the Robin sobbed over the phone. 

read the rest on ao3

The answering voice sighed. She still felt the shock of Tim crying on the phone with her, about a boy of all things. And, although the she wanted to slap the living shit out of the both of them, she also knew it was best to be calm and to let him cry on. “I know, I feel you Timmy, been there, done that,” she gave the phone a sad smile.

“I can’t even comprehend how that’s a thing. Seriously, Steph, how?!” His eyes seemed to bulge, one step closer to completely freaking out. He laid back on his bed, the phone still close to pressing against his ear, and salted tears running down his reddened cheeks.

He was a bat. A detective. Trained by old comics and the world’s greatest himself, batman. So, how on earth was he feeling so sunk by all these emotions? Why so much all this once? How was he to cry over the phone to Stephanie Brown over not just a boy, but the superboy. And, not just because he didn’t like him back—no, that wasn’t even able to be gotten out—but because he planned to ask out Tim’s own sister.

“Could my life really get anymore amusing, Steph? This is fucking humiliating,”

“Tim, I’m seriously so sorry this just all around sucks. Were you really planning on telling him, though?” The voice questioned over the device.

“Yes,” the boy cringed, “ I had a whole speech planned out to tell him tonight. Talk about bad timing,” his breath slowed. Without all the tears now, he felt tired. So completely drained for ever believing his best friend would ever see him much more than just that. Best friends.

“Why don’t you just spend some time away from him? Not exactly to cut off all contact, but more so just hanging out less? Maybe start making up excuses like Bruce needs you working on a case more, or that your parents have been home?” She suggested.

Actually, it wasn’t the worst idea, either. Kon would be okay with him being busy, and in the meantime he would take that step back and convince himself Kon wasn’t really the one.

“You’re right,”

“I am, aren’t I? Y’know it actually feels really nice to hear you say that for once, maybe just once more?” The girl pressed playfully.

He scoffed. “Yeah wouldn’t you like that?” The Robins teased one another, after all she could always make him feel better. “Alright, I think I have to call it a night. I’m gonna go throw up and then to bed.” He wasn’t lying, either. For whatever reason after speaking to Conner his head hurt like hell and his stomach carried what felt like a flu virus.

“Goodnight, Tim,”

“Night, Steph,”

               *****

“Well,”

“Well?”

“It’s been about a month,”

“Tim,”

“I think I’m actually okay this time. I don’t feel so achey around him anymore! I told you we met up after patrol tonight!” The boy exclaimed over the line, a smile captured on his lips.

“Okay, so, it went alright, then?” Steph asked. She cringed a bit. No way his feelings where just poof gone.

“Steph, it went great,” assured Tim. “I think we plan on doing the same thing tomorrow...it just nice to have my best friend back, yknow?”

“Tim, it’s really okay if you still need time, you know that, right?”

“Steph. I promise. I’m okay, my feelings for Kon are completely gone,”

*****

“You’re here on time” the boy in front of him called. A small chuckle arose, “did bats let you off early?”

“Yes, actually, how’d you know?” Tim smiled. He sat down right beside him on the edge of the rooftop. Ironically, sitting on top of a fifteen story building, next to a superhuman somehow managed to be the spot he always felt the safest. He assumed, it was all about the trust. All about a matter of not having to worry that Kon might decide to push him overboard unexpectedly, or even if the building suddenly gave out. The only fault there was, why did he still have that trust for him? Admittedly, Kon had never exactly tried to send him soaring off a rooftop, but wasn’t heart break a close equivalent?

“Tim?” The familiar hand waved in his face. Tim carefully swatted it away.

“What?”

“I asked you how your day was?”

“Oh,” Tim nodded. He even looked down as if his fingers might curate him the perfect move. Spoiler alert: they did not. “It was…well, I mean kind of slow? Patrol and all that,” the last bit came out as a mutter. Why was he there, again? Honestly, he couldn’t even look at him now. He had thought he was fine, really he did, but what exactly did fine mean? Ignorance, in this case.

The only problem was, he just couldn’t let go. In movies and literature it was always so much easier, because it just always works out for them. They have a promised happy ending. For Tim, none of that was a guarantee.

It was like..insurance. insurance that he did not have. Because, even when the character didn’t end up with their love, they still found something great—like a new person or happiness. And now, all happiness was looking like without Kon was a cold bottle of chardonnay stolen from his mother’s wine cabinet.

“Are you okay?” Kon asked then. His face carried worry and all kinds of fear.

Shit

shit

‘Don’t make me lie to you’ The shorter boy thought. He didn’t want to, it honestly wasn’t something he could find the energy for anymore. “I, uh,” he felt his phone vibrate under his thigh. He didn’t answer it, it would only be Steph wanting to know what was happening.

“What is it, Rob? Spit it out,” the meta pushed, a cheerful smile forming his face.

“I…don’t think I can?” Answered Tim.

“Huh, well, why not? Its okay, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

The raven haired boy just stared at him, mouth split open stupidly. “Right! Right. Yes, I know that,” he nodded.

“So?”

“Right…” he bit his lip till blood arose and the feeling of confidence came beside it. “Could I, show you, instead?” He requested.

“Sure? I mean, yeah. Of course you can, anything that helps,” Kon nodded willingly.  

Was he really going to do that? Where was some sort of memory wiper when you needed it? He’d do anything to redo the last ten minutes.

He sighed. Was he really about to do this? In all fairness, he had been wanting to for some time. Okay, he’d do it. Okay. Maybe not? “Y’know what?” Tim turned. they were closer than he had thought they were. No going back now, right? He laughed sickly, “fuck it.” Evenly, his face melted to a smile as he leaned him, pressing his lips ever so gently against Kon’s.

He couldn’t believe it. He was kissing Kon. His best friend. The boy who unknowingly broke his heart just months ago. This was...unbelievable. It always seemed like it was so incredibly out of reach and get here he was now, kissing him. Did that mean Kon really did like-

“Woah,” and just like that he was pushed away. He’d have to fight through the tears at an arms length distance now. “Hey, sorry, Tim I’m flattered, really, it’s just-“

“Okay, look, I probably should have waited, I just, I don’t know? Ever since you were talking about Cass I just couldn’t get you off my mind, and that’s why I stayed away for so long. Look, most people can just watch, too Kon. Most can just love from afar and wait. Im sorry, but I can’t do that. Im not that person, okay? I’m selfish. So selfish. I hate that I am and i’m sorry, but I can’t just watch, okay? I can’t,” Tim heaved a breath. He wanted to get it all out so bad and now he had spoiled the vibe. “Im sorry to burst your perfect little bubble, I just fucking can’t. Now I see it was a mistake too, because i thought you liked me back. I really did,” his lip bled. Biting too hard again? “You just don’t get it, okay? We’re supposed to be together. Everyone thinks so. We’re best friends, Kon. We’re the beautiful love story. Look, I’ve been telling myself that forever, and you’re just supposed to feel the same,” he shrugged. Just as if it was no big deal.

Kon groaned. He considered for a moment to grab ok to his hands but for obvious reasons that wasn’t exactly appropriate. “Tim. Hey, you don’t have to apologize. Im glad you told me. To be honest, I kind of like you too,”

“Wait, really?” Tim smiled, searching the meta’s face for any truth.

“What? Are you even listening to me? Tim, I’m sorry but I can’t be apart of your little fantasy..” It was clear it pained his friend to say al this. “We’re not some sort of destined couple or whatever you think we are. It just doesn’t work that way, okay?”

Oh. So, not as he expected.

Right

“Well, why not?” The Robin urged, hurt growing in his blue eyes.

“I’m dating Cass,” breathed Kon. “Look, we were going to tell you tomorrow but then all of this happened...I’m sorry, I should have told you,”

Ouch. Fuck. Again?

“Right,” was all he could mutter. “I’m uh. I’m sorry, Kon,” he had to leave. Had to get out of there fire his eyelids broke like dams and he had to muffle his own screams. “I think I’m going to head out, actually..goodnight, Kon,” Tim sighed. He walked off then, taking deep breaths to help ignore the boy calling his name behind him. He could catch him if he wanted to. Easily. Obviously he didn’t want to. Kon loved Cass...not Tim.

****

“I kissed him,”

“You what?!” The voice over the phone sounded livid.

“Yeah, yeah I know stupid, right?” Tim sighed. He sat on his bed, holding a chilled glass of chardonnay, just as he had promised himself.

“Im guessing it didn’t go so well?”

He could hear her cringe over the phone. Tim didn’t respond. Instead, he simply sipped his drink: dry. This one was eruopean as were most of the others, rolled in oak barrels and some sort of fruit. It was like drinking Kon’s scent. Whatever cheap cologne he decided to douce himself in every morning some how crawled its way into his head to torture him. He set the glass down.

“Im sorry, Tim, you really-”

“Its okay, Steph, really,” insisted Tim, having cut her off.

“Is it?” The girl asked genuinely.

“Yes. I’ve decided I cannot change it, so yes, its fine,”

“Wow. Okay. Thats, that’s actually very mature of you,”

The robin nodded, although obviously not visible.

“Goodnight, Steph,” he called into the phone.

“Goodnight, Tim,” she huffed back, right before leaving him in inconsiderable silence.

The boy picked up the wine glass again. He stared deeply into the few bubbled and cringed with the inhale of smoke and aged French oak.

“You’re really messing with my mind, huh, Conner Kent?”

Tim glanced around. His room was gloomy. sad. Dimmed. He wished for Kon to come light it up a bit, yet he didn’t. They’d be apart for now, but he’d turn around eventually. He would get his fantasy.

#timkon #kon el #Tim Drake #kontim #Stephanie Brown #cassandra cain #Red Robin #Superboy #timkon ao3 feed #dunneltag879 #ao3 #timkon ao3

[iwantitiwriteit]

Slow Burn: Act I - Part 3

The Secret Session

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Reader

Summary: There’s a secret audience member at your acoustic show.

Warnings: Profanity

Notes: Before you dive in, get in the zone with the moodboard + music specially curated to go with this part! Full of acoustic jams by a couple of my favorite artists. Read the previous part here.

The calm before the storm. That’s what the time before a performance is like for you. You politely demand minimal talking of anyone in the room, unable to help getting lost in thought before a show, often reflecting on the last couple years. Today is no different.

Honey, your song is on the radio!

Oh ‘cos you’re ‘famous’ now, you think you’re hot shit?

It’s not like you don’t have the money.

5 weeks at number 1 and counting!

I can’t believe how naive you’re being.

I can’t believe how jealous you’re being.

And the award goes to…

You won!

I thought you’d be happy for me.

I can’t do this anymore...

“So… that hangover of yours must be serious.” 

You bring your eyesight from its fixed spot on the floor in front of you to look at Jimi. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear me say ‘pancakes’.”

You whip your head around like a madwoman. “Pancakes?! Where?”

“Down girl. There are none. You fiend.”

“Then why mention it? Getting my hopes up like that…”

“‘Cos they’d go reeeealllly good with this obviously expensive, gourmet coffee someone named ‘CE’ sent you.”

“What?” You rush over to Jimi’s side and take the note from her hand.

“Mmhmm... cryptic ass note too. But I’m gonna guess not to you.” 

Roses are red, coffee is brown. Boston’s known for tea parties, and I for putting my foot in my mouth. Forgive me? -CE 

‘Brown’ and ‘mouth’? What a way with words, this guy. He really went through the trouble, though…

“Wanna tell me what you got up to last night? As your manager, I should know.” Jimi tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at you. 

You cringed at the thought of recounting last night’s events. “Not really.” Throwing the note over your shoulder, you began inspecting the extravagant bouquet. “And I’m not hungover by the way. Just feeling— ugh, you know how I get before shows.”

“Nuh uh, sis. Now I’m pulling best friend rank. Hungover or not, you crept ya ass back into the hotel room close to 3 am KNOWING you had a show the next day, get sent coffee and flowers with cheesy apology notes by obviously rich randos, and on TOP OF IT ALL, are about to be away from me for what? 3 months?”

“4 months,” you reluctantly corrected her.

“4 MONTHS! And you REALLY THINK you’re not about to tell me what the hell happened last night? What do you think this is— Pretty Little Liars? Bitch, spill.” Jimi’s right…  manager AND best friend. She deserves the tea… Why’d I give her this much power?

“Well…” Jimi takes a seat as you pace around, beginning to tell her about meeting Chris the night before.

“Chris Evans, Chris Evans? Like Chris motherfucking Evans?”

“Girl, yes!” you confirm.

You tell her about your stupid, potentially offensive joke.

“Ooooff. I’m not surprised, though, that’s on brand for you.”

“Ugh, I know— hey!”

You tell her how Anthony and Scott were obviously trying to set you up, and how Anthony was not helping the awkwardness you already established.

“Why, though??”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

You tell her how things eventually turned around, you and Chris caught a little vibe, and that you were so sure he was flirting with you. How genuine he seemed, and how dreamy his eyes were, and—

“Wait a min—”

“Let me finish!”

Finally, you told her how you’d accidentally read Anthony’s text chain with Chris, and saw what Chris really thought of you.

“Well, damn.”

“I’m saying!” You breathe out exasperatedly as you sit down in front Jimi, leaning your head on her knee.“It's not that I thought we’d ride off into the sunset together or anything, but I just thought I’d read him as genuine. I don’t know… with all that’s happened the last few months, my judgment could really use a win.”

“Oh honey, I know. But what did I tell you? You—”

“We’re ready for you!” Saved by the stage manager.

“Looks like your stern talking to is gonna have to wait until after the meet and greet.”

“Immediately after. Have fun out there hun. Snatch some wigs!”

——————————————————————————

You didn’t see it, but last night Chris saw you enter the party. His breath hitched at the sight of you, dressed in all white, hair like a kinky-curly halo around your head. An actual angel. Somewhat dressed down from the other ladies in the party, but clearly confident and comfortable in your own skin, made you stand out to him. His mesmerization was interrupted by voices calling out in the distance. It was a couple of the younger actor boys, and he watched you chat with them.

Chris looked away when his phone dinged indicating he received a text. It was from Mackie, asking if he was ok. Can I catch a break? He exchanged texts, but wanted to return his gaze so badly to the sneakered beauty that caught his eye. When he looked up, you were gone, and he panicked a little. He finally found you outside on the rooftop patio, dancing provocatively… with Scott?

Chris made his way over to you, Scott, and Mackie. He admired the way you talked expressively about who-knows-what, but your animated faces amused him. When he got to you all, introductions were made; you’re an actress, soon making your film debut alongside his brother and friend. He tries to make small talk with you, but somehow finds himself being joked on for his own film debut, and he’s slightly returned to his sullen mood. I’m not in the mood for this. It’s always too good to be true, huh?

Alone with you at the bar, though, something happens, you change his mind— or rather confirm and further his initial intrigue. The two of you talk, laugh, and dance with each other for the better part of the evening, often catching yourselves gazing smittenly at the beautiful stranger opposite of you. He thinks that you're funny, smart, and confidently awkward. Chris appreciates your realness and was never more glad he came out despite his previously funky mood.

Unfourtunately, there was another change, a sour one. You’d seen Chris’ blind judgments of you. FuuuuUUUUUUcccckkk. He’d sent those texts before he’d even met you, ignorant to you being the musician that his brother and friend were trying to set him up with— they’d done a good job of making sure of that after he expressed his disinterest. But you didn’t know that, and believed that what he texted was truly what he thought of you after enjoying each other’s company all night.

Chris was embarrassed to say the least. He went to the bathroom to hide his shame. I finally, FINALLY hit it off with someone, and possibly blew it because I just HAD to choose this ONE time to be colorful in my word choice. I gotta make this right.

 As quickly as he could, he’d gotten together a demonstration of remorse: a beautiful bouquet of roses and some gourmet coffee, a call back to the quips you shared last night, sent to your green room. He wasn’t sure what to say on the note, but remembering how much of a jokester you are, he went the cheesy, comical route, and prayed it went over well. Chris could’ve left it at that, but no, my curiosity had to get the best of me. 

Just like you hadn’t seen him watching you last night, you hadn’t seen him watching you today. Today, however, he’s not the only one watching you. This isn’t qualified as stalking, is it? God, I hope not. Appropriately anxious and tucked in the furthest corner of the small, but packed venue, clad in a baseball cap, hoodie, and sunglasses, Chris heavily reconsidered his spur of the moment decision of coming to see your acoustic performance. Any chance of leaving was now gone as the lights dimmed and the presenter came on stage.

“In the last 2 years following the release of her debut album, today’s artist has taken music by storm! She’s had a #1 song in the country for 10 consecutive weeks— graced the covers of Rolling Stone and Vogue— top-billed major music festivals like Lollapalooza and Coachella. She’s even cleaned up at the Grammys this year and then gave the most talked about performance.”  Damn… do I really live under a rock? “iHeartRadio, give a warm welcome to…” 

Applause erupted as you joined your band on stage, taking your spot behind the microphone. You greeted the crowd with a shy smile and introduced the first song. “This… is ‘Stroke’.” The crowd erupts again around Chris, all in on what’s in store, leaving him the only one in the room unsure of what to expect.

Chris is mesmerized by your voice and amused by your quirky dance moves. But he feels conflicted, knowing that similar moves were done with him last night on the dance floor. When you danced together, it had felt like the two of you were in your own little world, but seeing you onstage sharing some of that with an entire audience made him feel a little… insignificant.

Your lyrics are smart, raw and moving and the instrumentation is captivating even in its stripped back state. Chris doesn’t think he’s ever heard music like yours before. He’s surprised by the subtly aggressive and sexual nature of it, considering how awkward and goofy and cute you were with him. However, he loves watching your outright confidence, your assertiveness, in action on stage. Wow, she’s fucking amazing!

“... thank y’all! Um… this next one is a cover of a song I’m sure you know and love.” The guitarist starts the iconic riff of Aaliyah’s ‘Are You That Somebody?’. Chris is taken back to hearing this song at many parties in his younger years where he mindlessly *and drunkenly* danced to the upbeat production. But hearing you sing it today, a little slower and a lot more vulnerable, the lyrics hit him differently.

“Oh boy, see I’m trusting you with my heart, my soul

I probably shouldn’t let you but if I

If I let you know

You can’t tell nobody, I’m talkin’ ‘bout nobody

I hope you’re responsible

Boy I gotta watch my back, 'Cause I’m not just anybody”

He’s reminded of your comments last night.

“Don’t you ever feel like you can’t tell people’s intentions? Like, you can’t tell if someone wants to be around you for you or… for what they think they’ll get in return. It’s just easier to stay in your own, comfortable bubble sometimes. I don’t know…”

She probably thinks I was trying to take advantage of her. God, I’m so stupid sometimes!

At the end of the set, there’s a round of deserving applause and cheers for you, and you beam at the crowd, thanking them. Chris can’t help but feel strangely proud of you; he barely knows you, but can tell you love what you do and give your all to it. He admires that.

When the lights come up and the presenter joins you on stage, Chris takes that opportunity to slip out early so as not to be caught in the rush of everyone leaving, risking him getting recognized. He gets his phone out to let his driver know he’s coming down and to meet him around the corner, hoping this will keep them from tipping off paparazzi. He then opens his music app to download all your music. It’s official: I’m a fan.

——————————————————————————

“Alright everybody, if you have tickets for the meet and greet… “ the presenter gives announcements as you leave the stage. Being the attentive performer you are, you noticed a tall, enigmatic audience member leave early. Normally you would’ve gently called them out, but something stopped you. A familiarity of the figure, the stature, the walk.

Your breath catches in your throat at the thought of who it could be. You start towards the green room to prepare for the meet and greet, although your swirling thoughts cause you to make little to no strides in that direction. What if it is Chris? Why would he come today? Was he really sorry? Or was he just bored and looking for a good laugh?

Adrenaline rushes you and you head in the direction of where the figure had gone. You scan the room and spot them, stomp up behind them, ready to have some words.

“Hey! HEY!” You reach and yank their hoodie off, “WHAT’D YOU THINK OF THE show…” your voice trails off at the sight of a toupee hanging in the pulled down hood, and the figure turns around. Shit. 

“¡¿Qué mierda estás haciendo?!” The Spanish speaking stranger is loud, bald, and clearly pissed.

“Lo siento,” you offer with a sheepish smile and shrug, then turn on your heels and scurry off, slightly embarrassed by the scene you’d caused.

“What the hell was that?” Jimi asked with wide eyes. “Not what I meant when I said ‘snatch some wigs’!” 

“I thought that was Chris…”

“You thought an extremely famous, A-list actor, who barely flirted with you last night, and clearly doesn’t think very highly of you, risked pestering paps and mobbing fans to go out of his way to come to your set today?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“And if it was? What were you gonna do?”

“I… didn’t think that far.”

“You didn’t think at all. Listen, I get that you’re hurt—“

“I’m not hurt! Ok… That’s not me. I don’t get hurt.”

Jimi sighs, softening her eyes and speaks at you with tough love and concern. “Whatever it is you’re feeling, you can’t let him or any other industry guy get in your head like this. Your career’s finally taking off like you wanted, and your personal life is less in shambles than it was a while ago. If you want everything to continue going in the right direction, you gotta get focused! You’ve got a movie role to slay! And many more amazing opportunities waiting for you after that because you made it all happen. I want you to remember that this next chapter is about focusing on what’s right for you, professionally and personally. Do NOT bring in the bullshit from the last chapter.”

It’s your turn to sigh. “But, I—“

“Aht-aht! No excuses. Are we clear?” You simply nod because there’s not much you can say. All you can do is mentally make a promise to yourself to not let any guy get you besides yourself, that you will be willing and ready for great things to happen to you. Jimi’s right… again! Dammit, I hate when she’s right.

Part 4

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #slow burn series #chris evans one shot #chris evans series

[garazza]

Action Comics #1023 Review

“The House of Kent: Part 2″

Action Comics #1022 “House of Kent: Part 1″ Review

Hoo-boy.

I actually appreciate this recap page, I really do, but it just rubs me the wrong way. I’m not sure if it’s the content of the recap that pisses me off or if it’s for the fact that they literally just took a page from the previous issue and slapped in some new dialogue (see Bendis’ Man of Steel mini for this to be taken to the extreme).

Most likely the latter, but there’s a good argument for the former because reading objective statements about what Bendis has done tends to do that. I guess what they could be going for is for something similar to when Svengoolie comes back from commercial break and it’s a still from the movie with Sven’s face superimposed somewhere and he makes a quip about the movie before it starts back up again.

But I digress. It fills me in on what’s been happening in the book and that’s what I needed it to do.

The art really goes down in quality since last issue. Romita, Jr.’s pencils aren’t as good, Janson’s inks are heavier and a lot more boring, and Anderson’s colors are bland and flat and not as lively. There are a few good spots and I’ll point them out, but they’re infrequent, and overall, the quality of the art is much more similar to the art in the Metropolis Doom arc than it is to last issue. This leads me to believe that editorial only gave the art team enough time over the pandemic-induced break in publishing to produce one good issue before forcing them back into a deadline where Romita, Jr.’s work is not as good and tends to suffer.

Red Cloud attacks and attempts to kill Jimmy Olsen instead of Lois Lane to send an even greater message to her and Clark.

For those of you that don’t know, the Invisible Mafia speak in code to avoid detection by Superman’s super-hearing and meet in areas surround by lead to hide from his supervision. In the beginning of this confrontation, no one says anything that Superman would respond to if he hasn’t already tuned it out, which is why Lois says out loud her nickname for her husband to get his attention.

It’s a sign of affection for them and could be utilized for such a scenario, but I don’t see why she had to say his nickname over anything else to get his attention. Maybe because since he revealed his identity to the world his real name is being said a lot more often in non-criminal ways, so he doesn’t respond to it as much as he has in the past. I’m not sure if I’m trying to come up with a rational excuse for what is actually a writer’s weird and out-of-character creative choice or if it’s what an actually competent writer intended for a discerning reader to infer and get joy from a successful analysis.

Regardless, it’s what got Superman’s attention at the end of Superman segment in the last issue. I don’t think what was supposed to be conveyed with those panels last issue was accurately conveyed by the art. Either Romita, Jr. didn’t sufficiently depict (but still beautifully rendered) what Bendis had directed him to draw, or Bendis had poorly directed Romita, Jr. in what he wanted him to draw. With this added context, however, these panels do make a lot more sense, but only with the added context. Without it, the scene is a little unclear.

You can clearly see the change in art with the two issues side by side like this. This issue, the art just doesn’t look as good. It’s just kinda blegh. It accomplishes what it needs to convey the story, but in a very boring and unspectacular way.

Also, this panel is very Harry Potter to me. Superman’s more subdued face is similar to that of book!Dumbledore in Goblet of Fire, but the almost hyperbolic dialogue is more akin to that of movie!Dumbledore. It’s very dissonant.

I really want to hate the humor of this panel, but it’s just so fun, so I won’t.

This is a really cool panel, one of the few standout moments, but I have issues.

First, I may have enjoyed the humor in the last panel, but Bendis’ attempt at humor with Jon here just makes me want to cringe. Whenever Bendis makes Jon talk, it just pisses me off and makes me want to stop reading.

Second, I see what they were going for with the glowing eyes, but this is some more of that dissonance between the art and the writing. It actually looks quite menacing, but the dialogue has a more humorous tone. Also, the actual effect for the glow is just two red circles, making their eyes look more like flashlights than radiating energy. I also want you to keep this moment in the back of your minds, I’ll refer back to it in a second.

I think the dissonance is the result of the Bendis-speak, where some of the characters are quippy, but other characters are playing the situation straight and are reacting accordingly to the incorrect behavior. There’s nothing wrong with a superhero comic being light-hearted, but it just doesn’t quite fit here. All the right ingredients are present, but they’re not all in the right proportions.

Another panel I really like. The smoke and its color are really well done, especially in contrast to the all black silhouettes except for their back logos of the Supers.

The eye glow effect looks much better here. It’s simple yet powerful.

I don’t know how important this revelation is actually supposed to be, so I’ll defer to the depiction of the comic instead of playing the fool and acting upset about something I’m ignorant about simply because I’m not a fan of the writer.

This moment is cool and all, but I don’t think Conner has super-breath. He doesn’t actually have the powers of Superman, he uses his tactile telekinesis to mimic some of the powers of Superman.

The “extreme high-velocity super-speed” was this issue’s first indication that Bendis might not know anything about this character he has stewardship over, but that can just be chalked up to Superman not remembering the powers of Conner. We don’t know the upper limit of Conner’s tactile telekinetic flight, nor should we care, it’s supposed to be a fun line.

The second indication is that Conner is shown to have heat vision when his eyes glow alongside Clark and Jon’s. He only has heat vision when he wears special goggles or a visor. Again, he doesn’t have all the powers of Superman. Tactile telekinesis only covers so much of Superman’s powers. But this can be forgiven because it is a pretty cool image.

“Once Is Chance, Twice is Coincidence, Third Time Is A Pattern.” This panel is the third instance of Bendis’ lack of understanding of Conner’s character. If this was the only instance, this would be fine, but it’s not. The moment is cool, but it’s a bridge too far.

Refer to my review of the first issue for more of Bendis not knowing anything about Conner.

EDIT: Thanks to @thebartallenblog​ for pointing out to me that Conner does in fact start developing more Kryptonian powers outside of his tactile telekinesis in the 2003 Teen Titans  book by Geoff Johns, so Bendis does in fact know more about the character than I give him credit for, which is more than I can say for myself in this instance.

Also, this moment goes on for way too long, almost two entire pages. Beautiful, the art of decompression and wasting reader’s time and money.

“Should I super-inhale?” Shut up, Bendis.

Also, why is Red Cloud is so fixated on Superman’s family instead of just Superman. Does the Invisible Mafia have something against his family as well? It was my understanding that they have it out for him specifically, anything that is ancillary to him is extraneous and not worth their time.

“Hey! It’s not my favorite super-move on a good day.” Then why the fuck did you even make him suggest it, Bendis?

I don’t know if loved ones referring to Lois as Ma is something Bendis has been trying to push as a character quirk or if it’s some sort of weird one-off. Either way, I don’t like it. It’s not bad in of itself, don’t get me wrong, it’s just not my thing and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Again, I’m not sure how significant Jimmy figuring out Red Cloud's identity is supposed to be to the plot and the narrative, but this seems to be a bit of lampshading from a writer who literally has no right to be lampshading.

Couldn’t give a shit about the plot, I’m just here to nitpick. Next.

Feels a bit janky in the art department, but the dialogue is surprisingly in character. They all feel like they have their actual voices. It’s a nice little moment.

I would address all the instances of Bendis making Jon talk, but that would make this longer than it already is, so I’ll only do it when it’s particularly egregious.

Red Cloud comes back and attacks not!Jon and I couldn’t care less. Kill the bitch. Please.

The next two pages are a lot of nothing, just a boat load of Bendis-speak.

I’m pretty sure this played out a lot differently and more humorously in Bendis’ head when he wrote it down and Romita, Jr.’s art makes it all the more funny but for all the wrong reasons.

Who’s his partner? Officer Tomasi?

You know when I said that one panel with Lois, Clark, and Jimmy was written really in-character? This panel with Conner and Jon is the exact opposite of that.

Red Cloud and Ms. Leone have a fun back and forth for two pages. It’s a good example of Bendis-speak working well.

“Black Label Club?” One meta-reference is enough, but two is stupid. I actaully feel a little conflicted nitpicking this, but Black Label is in such a weird place right now, so why reference it?

But “Clark Kent walked into a bar...” is a pretty bad ass line, very John Wick.

A very cool sequence, but it’s full of Bendis-speak and very decompressed.

Why the fake-out of the Superfamily executing a gangland-style shooting with Jon being the one pulling the trigger? I get it’s a story beat the narrative is supposed to hit, but still.

The reveal is pretty funny, shrinking the club, so it’s a little forgivable, but the set up and the pay off don’t quite match. It’s just another example of that dissonance I’ve been mentioning.

I know that “supersons” line was put there by Bendis as a deliberate dig at his detractors, so I’m not going to take the bait and get pissed. Nice try, big guy.

All in all, this issue was not as bad as I initially thought. It’s series of some really big highs and lows.

#superman #superboy #conner kent #jon kent #lois lane #jimmy olsen #red cloud #robinson goode #ms. leone #invisible mafia #brainiac 5 #clark kent #action comics #brian michael bendis

[8requiems]

A Webcomic Review of “Deadlove”: I think I am a Sadist now.

Intro

WHOA WHOA WHOAAAA, before you skip this part, I tweaked the process of how I review webcomics after reviewing the webcomic before this one, “Wizard of Arsenia”. The changes aren’t earth shattering, but I just wanted to put that out there.

If you don’t care. I mean, you can skip reading it. I guess it's cool. I don’t mind...not like I didn’t spend time refining it- but it's OKAY.

Before we get into this review, there are two main parts of the review:

The General Review

This route will give you a simple idea of the webcomic you are about to read. It will naturally include my personal opinions, but they will not be inconsistent to any prior or future reviews I do (in the sense that I don’t do double standards when I talk about said webcomics). 

Said opinions won’t really dominate this route because I will be mainly establishing what the webcomic has to offer in each part. 

Because of this, my opinions will always be presented at the end of each section.

If need be, I will refer to events that might be considered as “spoiler territory”. 

I will read as far as I require in order to get a good idea of the story I am reading, so the amount of chapters I read will vary. At a baseline, I will have read at least 10 chapters.

Granted, I doubt anything too important will change how you experience later chapters since it isn’t as, lets say, a “Season Review”.

The only sections that will be fully opinion within this route is: Execution and Conclusion.

      2. Beyond the Border

This route will be available if you scroll to the very bottom.

Think of this route as the “New Game+” equivalent of the review.

I will read further either because the story has me hooked, or if I want to see if my criticisms still hold true.

EXPECT TO SEE SPOILERS. ESPECIALLY IF I GAVE THE REQUIEM TRADEMARK COPYRIGHT APPROVED THUMBS UP.

Disclaimer:

If you decide to skip “The General Review” to read “Beyond the Boundary”, don’t let it affect your opinion of the work too much (if you are easily swayed). Despite how open I am to webcomics, I might have opinions that could contradict with how you might view the webcomic if YOU were to read it.

I do advise that you read “The General Review”, and with that information in mind, proceed to “Beyond the Boundary”, if you so wish.

The Description:

*Ahem*

" They say you can’t run away from your problems... and Joel just learned that the hard way. Talk about having cold feet! Joel is all set to marry Kim, his art school sweetheart, but in a moment of poor judgment he has an affair with his roommate Zoe. Hounded by the guilt, but unable to fess up to his fiancé, he decides the most responsible thing to do is... run away. As far and as fast as he can. He now finds himself selling cosmetics at a shopping mall in New Zealand. Sure, he is homesick, and everything is unfamiliar, but at least he can work through his issues in peace and quiet, right? Wrong. Read this comic to find out how Joel’s plans fall apart, and how he puts himself back together, with the help of an unexpected guest… “

Y’know, this is usually the part where I give my own synopsis of the story, at times because the description is in no way useful. 

But, I have nothing to add. 

I will say that when I first read “Deadlove”, I don’t believe I read the description, and I think not reading it was a welcome surprise considering that although I was expecting a “Comedy with a simplistic art style that is kind of charming”, I think I got a bit more than I bargained for.

I should also note that if it were not from my blind curiosity, and I were to judge it purely on description and the title art, I probably wouldn’t have read it.

It doesn’t do justice towards how creative the Webtoon itself presents its characters and the story it wants to portray.

But we’ll get to that in a minute. For now, let’s get a good idea of the characters we will be following.

Characters:

Joel:

(A panel in the middle of Chapter 1)

As you will quickly understand, Joel as far as life decisions go is the definition of incorrigible. Despite having many opportunities to confront his problems, or even having moments of foresight. These 5 chapters, if you are one to hate misunderstandings or easily resolvable conflicts, will be hell for the reader.

Maybe it was because I was forcing myself to read another webcomic before getting to this one, but I somehow  was not personally annoyed by the way Joel was acting. 

Granted, if I read this on ANY other day, I would have been seething and/cringing at the sight of this imbecile.

Which, as Creator Teo reveals in his editors notes at the end of every chapter, will be a very common theme.

(The last paragraph of Chapter 2’s Creators Note ^)

(The beginning of Chapter 3’s Creators Note ^)

I think it’s safe to say that Joel's current situation is the logical extreme of not taking responsibility for your poor decisions and refusing to confront and learn from your mistakes. 

I feel like because of how his character is written, everyone is going to be on the same page, regardless of personal views on life when reading this webcomic, specifically because of how comically stupid we as the audience see Joel as.

I mean, at the very least that's how I feel…

At the same time, after reading the first chapter multiple times, I decided to set my personal biases aside just so I could be sure Joel is full of shit.

There were two parts of the Webtoon that caught my eye:

^ For this dialogue portion, the part that caught my attention was him brushing past keywords that we have likely heard before when hearing about cheating: “Love isn’t Binary”, “I thought only assholes cheat”, and “She looks hot”.

Now, I could easily be reading too much into these lines, and I probably am. But this isn’t the first time I have heard or read about someone cheating on someone they love for “X,Y, and Z”, so I decided to look up a random case to see how the cheater in that situation felt.

After reading about it, I felt myself not necessarily thinking he wasn’t an ass, but I did end up feeling bad for Joel. Not because of the lines I just showed, but for the lines in the following panel towards the end of the chapter:

In the case that I looked up, they felt miserable at the development that had come of their new relationship, despite cherishing the one they already had. 

Now granted, Joel does say that he isn’t a reliable source of info for the story, but I feel as though the points where he does start deviating from truth are obvious enough to the viewer that we can differentiate it from the real truth. 

At least, that’s what I believe, I tried reading back to see if there were any obvious deviations in truth but I couldn’t find any. Maybe you found some? Share what you found in the comments section down below if you have.

I think this simple meme panel that is shown at the end of chapter 1, although very simple, justifies the way I think about Joel as a character:

Execution:

When I first started reading “Deadlove” I thought the charm would come from the simplistic art style, and I wasn’t wrong about it not having charm, but it is certainly not the main appeal of the Webtoon. The way the visual and writing style compliment each other reminds me of my time reading “God of Bath”. But with “God of Bath”, that would moresoe be applied to the gag panels.

For “Deadlove”, it's every panel of every chapter.

Visual Style: 

I think my favorite part of the Webtoon would have to be the way Creator Guy makes visually metaphorical jokes, and just the way he decides to show Joel’s interaction with the audience as he breaks the fourth wall.

An example of a visually metaphorical joke would be something Creator Teo actually had to point out for me. Had to do a whole double take:

( ^ A panel in the latter half of Chapter 1 )

( ^ The fourth paragraph of Chapter 2’s Creators Note )

( ^ Joel revealing his wishy washy nature to the audience in a panel towards the end of Chapter 5 )

Although there might be better examples of Joel’s audience interaction, I personally love this one. I can’t help but chuckle every time I remember it.

The Writing:

I rarely consume media that breaks the fourth wall. And even then, they would break the fourth wall for comedic effect, not for telling a story. 

Then again, many stories will have a narration at the beginning where they basically guide you in the beginning portions of the story, only to return every now and then.

Joel is telling the story as he is living it. I mean, he does say the story isn’t linear, implying that this isn’t the case, but I still appreciate how the story is written nevertheless.

Conclusion:

Overall, I feel like I’ve communicated how much I love “Deadlove”, and I shouldn’t be surprised considering the talented duo of Creators Teo and Guy have experience telling simple yet fun and captivating stories, such as “The Adventures of God” and “My Dictator Boyfriend”. Both Webtoons that I love.

I already feel like I am someone that Joel is talking to, making me in some way a part of the story too, but having Creator Teo talk say reveal some insights about the Webtoon and giving some giving some thoughts about “Deadlove” shows a connection with me, the reader, that I don’t really feel in other Webtoons, even if they do Q&A’s every now and then.

That being said, I think that Teo’s quick tidbits are a consequence of the very stylized nature of the story itself.

I would suggest “Deadlove” to anyone, even if they would hate a character like Joel. Just because I feel like he is interesting enough to see him continue to make mistakes and follow his overall journey.

#webtoon #Webtoons #webtoon review #WebtoonFeatured #FeaturedWebtoon #webcomics #webcomic #Webcomic review #deadlove #GodofBath #God of Bath #Naver #NaverWebtoon #Naver Webtoon

[chimswae]

Untold Bonus Part 3

Foreword:

Some stories are better left unsaid.I couldn’t change anything for the world, although the fame part of this industry is tough to handle.Do i have a life? Yes I have my fans.Do i have friends? Yes the members that I cherish. Do i have love? No I have to let go.Life always offers you a second chance. It’s called tomorrow. But do i have any tomorrow?

Pairing: Jimin x OC (Other characters: BTS, OCs, Lee Taehwan)

Genre: Idolau, Fluff, Romance, Father!Au

Word Count: 2,324

Author Note: I totally forget to finish update Untold! forgive me ;; This is an old story of mine i think i wrote it in 2017, so please ignore my clicheness and the excessive usage of clicheness~ that makes u cringe haha

You can check full masterlist below :)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Part 3

 Although their camel tour ended a little comically, everyone had fun. Hoseok on the other hand was salty the whole day because of the poop incident. As soon as they reached their hotel, Hoseok spent at least two hours in the bathroom alone taking super long bath just to get rid of the smell or whatever he thought it was. He claimed it was to stabilize his mental state after the horrifying event.

 Hoseok could be a little too dramatic sometimes, no one could stop that guy.

 Leaving Hoseok with his delusional thought, others went to get dinner at nearby restaurant and bought takeaways food for him to savor later on. Enjoying the night city view, the stars sparkle in the night sky.

 “I love the city when it shuts down” Jimin whispers.

 Yeoul smiled upon hearing that low and raspy voice of his, so enticing. They both strolled the parks pedestrian pathways following others from behind silently. The streets was empty, there were minimal number of people around and most of them were couples. The emptiness was strange and magnificent.

 “This is perfect” she squished their hand tighter.

In front of them, there were Taehyung with his cameras and his loyal assistant Kim Namjoon, his eyes fixated on his gadgets. These two guys sometimes stopped in the middle of their walk to take good picture and admiring them afterwards. Or ended up bickering over Vante’s photos.

 Maknae and Jin on the other side were busy scanning the city and finding good spots to shop, though there were fewer shops opened past 11. The couple did not give up on whatever they were planning to buy, more like souvenirs.

 Taehwan and Yoongi went back earlier than them since they wanted to catch up their sleep, with that they offered to bring Minyeol together. Poor Minyeol being dragged around by the adults. Not to mention, they still had to feed loner Jung Hobi, that guy must be starving.

 Yeoul and Jimin took their time to enjoy this night stroll exchanging funny stories or stealing glances. Being with Jimin taught Yeoul how to swoon him with a simple flirt and playful kisses. She was taught well.

 “Baby..Let’s ditch them” he tugged on Yeoul arm preventing her to move.

 “Are you crazy? They will flip out” raising her eyebrows with a questionable look, she watched Jimin took his phone typing something in his phone.

 Jimin grinned “Done. I notify them in our Kakaotalk group,so lets go” he pecked her lips, intertwining their hand together. Yeoul could only smile at his randomness and followed him wherever he wished to go. Anywhere with Jimin is everywhere she wanted to be.

 Like a flash the couple disappeared from their vicinity for their own oh-not-so-romantic midnight tour. Jin and Jungkook had so much sense in them that they did not even care when they left unlike someone who insisted of following those two. Another reason how they ended in Morocco anyways, Kim Taehyung really need to stop pursuing different career in his life. The preferred V and Vante for now.

 Please don’t turn him into Varazzi or something.

 ------------------------

 There sitting side by side, two pure soul enjoying each other company under dark sky accompanied by the heat from the bonfire across them. Being drawn by the warmth of their body heat, Yeoul snuggled in Jimin’s embrace smiling as he rested his chin on top of her head.

 The fire glimmered and gleamed, its warmth drawn people in creating an atmosphere for sharing and making memories. As the night grows, they wished to linger around just a little longer in the warmth and contentment around the fire.

 Everything about tonight was perfect.

 “Aren’t you tired?” he was the one who first broke the silence between them.

 Jimin felt Yeoul shifted a little in his embrace and soon he heard she replied “Tired of what? You? That is impossible.. I prefer to cling onto you for the rest of my life” she teased while wrapping her arm around his waist tighter.

 “You cannot be tired of me. My charms are overflowing” he gazed down into her dark orbs. A pair of eyes that never failed to draw him in into this crazy world. World with unspeakable love. World that fills with hope. World that fills with happiness.

 If she were to list down her weakness when it came to Jimin, his gaze would definitely on the list. In fact, that’s her utmost weakness.

 “Aren’t you being a little over confident right now Park Jimin-ssi?” she ran her thumb over his lips, stroking it softly.

 “I don’t mind if it is you I am trying to win over” caressing the back of his hand along Yeoul’s soft cheeks, Jimin closed the gap between them and locking her into a long endearing kiss. A kiss that he wished to give everyday.

 Their lips move just perfectly in sync following their rapid heartbeat. He stroke over her back in a light touch that sent tingles in her heart. Every time their lips touched the spark ignite anew. Yeoul placed her palm upon his chest over his heart and felt it strong steady beat. The kiss deepened as she could feel with every stroke of his tongue latching onto hers.

 They broke the kiss to catch a deep breath “You are irresistible Park Jimin” Yeoul mumbled against his lips.

 “I am sorry. You have to deal with it until death do us part” nuzzling her face, Jimin chuckled softly.

 “I don’t mind” this time Yeoul was the one who initiate their second round. Locking her arm around his neck tight, she pulled him down for another kiss. Who knows a kiss with Jimin can be addicting? Well Yeoul had her whole life to deal with it.

 ----------------------

 It was time to get back to reality. Everyone was physically ready to be back in Korea but not mentally. They will be missing Morocco for sure. Nonetheless, thanks to Kim Taehyung unexpected plan Yeoul and Jimin stays in Morocco was extra fun than they expected. Creating new memories with their loved one especially Bangtan, Taehwan and Minyeol, it was beyond perfect.

 Boarding the plane on time, everyone got into their seat. First class seat as they said, but Jungkook was stuck with Jin for the whole journey, how unfortunate. He liked his hyung but sometimes he’s a little too bubbly for someone at his age. Considering he is in the hyung line, Jungkook felt he had slowly shifted toward the maknae line.

 Welcome aboard Kim Seokjin!

 Even before the plane took off, Jin insisted to sit on the aisle and made Jungkook stay in the middle. They had no idea who would take the window seat but scratch that, he hoped that person wouldnt snore that much.

 Jungkook eyes wandered at the direction of their seat and noticed the window seat was already occupied. He couldn’t get a full view of the person but he’s sure it was a girl. So, he sank in his seat carefully not to startle the girl whom seemed engross with her reading. She had earphone plugged in both of her ears got him less anxious to sit behind a stranger some more a girl.

 The older boy came few minutes later with a triumph grin plastered across his face, more like mocking Jungkook for sitting beside a girl.

 Maknae grunted under his breath feeling unfair as he sent death glare at Jin’s way “If it weren’t for you……” Jin dumbfounded look was even annoying.

 As the plane was ready for take off, Jungkook stole a glance at the girl beside him. He admired her long eyelashes, and her soft fluffy cheeks which again reminded him Jimin’s puffy one. Her fingers were beautiful and those accessories that she wore fitted perfectly around it. He tore his gaze from examining her feature even more like a creep. Jungkook had no idea why was he so nervous when the girl beside him showed no interest to start a conversation even a simple hi.

 You are so stupid Jungkook. He grimaced.

 The first hour of the journey, Jungkook had decided to pay all his attention on the games in his phone. His mind sometimes was too wild and he tended to over thinking too. The girl snapped the book closed as she stifled her yawn, stretching her aching muscle.

 She loved window seat since she had more space for herself and most importantly she didn’t have to deal with strangers on plane. Engaging into unimportant conversation was one thing, but she hated people who snore in the plane.

 Thank god, the two guys beside him seemed normal. She totally forgot to take a glance at the guy beside him and only to realize he’s quite good looking. Not an average look for a man at his age, but his eyes and those visible veins were her weakness.

 Reaching out to her hair, she’s about to tie it into a bun but only to lose grip on her red hairband. It landed just few inch from Jungkook’s feet. Jungkook realized that and put away his phone. He bent down to pick the hairband up but at the same time the girl was already reaching for it. Their head were hitting each other, earning a low gasp from both Jungkook and the girl.

 Jungkook straightened up with a baffle look “I am so sorry” he apologized earnestly.

 The girl took the hairband and rubbed her sore head with a small smile “It is alright. I am sorry for dropping this” their eyes met. The girl grew anxious at the sudden staring battle that they had right now. She touched her face in case she smeared her lipstick.

 “I am sorry? Is there something wrong” she inquired.

 He was brought back to his sense as he blurted without he realize “Nothing. You are just pretty” Jungkook himself couldn’t believe what’s coming out from his sinful mouth. Clasping his hand over his mouth, he patted it giving it a scold.

 The girl blushed upon hearing his compliment as he watched him in horror “W-hat…” she faked a laugh and averted her gaze from Jungkook.

 “I mean..I didn’t mean to say that. That is just weird. I am sorry again” He bowed a little hoping he would not scare the girl away. What’s wrong with him anyway? This stupid filthy little mouth gave away compliment so casually especially to a stranger like her.

 She shook her head “It is alright. It must be the gravity” she reasoned.

 Jungkook bit his lower lips to surpass his chuckle at her silly reply “Urm.. I am Jeon Jungkook by the way” he flashed her a charming smile not trying to win her over but that’s just how he smiled.

 The girl was taken aback at first not expecting the guy beside her would introduce himself. This was the start of every conversation, how she hated that. Therefore just to be polite, she replied Jungkook casually “Nari…Son Nari” her eyes gleams.

 “Nari.. Nice to meet you Nari-ssi”

 “You too Jungkook-ssi”

 Interestingly, this Son Nari girl seemed to not recognize him. Not to sound like a superstar, but to be frank everyone knew Bangtan Sonyeondan but for some reason this girl had zero idea of his existence as one of famous idol members.

 After exchanging their names, they fell into silence again. Nari exasperated a sigh of relief knowing Jungkook was not a talkative person, so she could enjoy this plane ride with ease.

 Little did Jungkook know, Jin was actually faking him being asleep. He heard it all up until those little innocent conversation made by Jungkook introducing himself to some random girl. It was a rare sight but he’s proud of his dongsaeng mustering his courage to talk to opposite sex.

 Jungkook stiffened in his seat still contemplating whether to ask questions or kept his mouth shut. Part of him wanted to prolong this conversation as he was curious of this Son Nari person. A soft sigh escaped as his fingers fiddled nervously.

 “You should be thanking me later Jeon” a soft voice whispered awfully low and close to his ears causing him to jerk backwards accidentally hitting Nari again.

 “I AM SO SORRY AGAIN” he looked over at the confused girl and threw a nasty glare at Jin, grinding his teeth together.

 “You seem to have the knack of bumping into others clumsily” she chortled.

 The corner of his lips tugged into an embarrass smile “I thought there was a bug on my seat” he lied. Studying her facial more clearly know, he could tell she’s judging him considering how hard she tried to hold back her laughter.

 “Actually you kinda remind me of one of my friends.. he is..” Nari couldn’t believe with her own eyes that she actually felt comfortable talking to a stranger exchanging their stories and life which was she rarely did every time in public.

 But..Jungkook. Something about him made it feel different.

 Was it his smiley face?

 Was it his perfectly round eyes?

 Was it his giggly side every time he got shy?

 It had always been a start of something new. Nari could use new friends.

Previous | Next: Epilogue  

This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2020. All Rights Reserved

#untoldseries #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #jimin x oc #jimin idolau #jimin father au #park jimin father au #bts series #jimin parenthood au

[candied-peach]

ao3: “hold my hand” rating: T warnings: eating disorders, anxiety, sympathetic deceit, prinxiety genre: hurt/comfort description: Virgil has a secret.

Sometimes, when the anxiety is a tidal wave, threatening to spill over and destroy everything in its path, Virgil stops eating.

He doesn't even mean to sometimes, it's just that the thought of actually swallowing anything is enough for his throat to tighten and his stomach to churn with nausea, a familiar warning about what he knows will happen if he tries to eat.

When he lived with the others, Deceit would coax him to sip broth and nibble on popsicles. But Deceit doesn't come up here- not often, anyway- so he doesn't know that Virgil's tremble has become even more pronounced, that his collarbones are sharp and fluted and his fingers look even longer, thanks to their slenderness. That his hoodie hides a multitude of sins.

Roman doesn't know, either, because Virgil refuses to sleep in his room when he's like this. He's upset at first- and doesn't Virgil feel like an asshole- but Virgil finally manages to convince him that it's temporary and it's just because of the stress Thomas is under. They all feel the effects of said stress, so Roman doesn't even question it. Virgil thinks it is only that stress that prevents Deceit from materializing then and there to shout "BULLSHIT" right in his face.

"At least come to dinner," Roman coaxes, and Virgil can't say no to that face, no matter how hard he wants to. "Patton made spaghetti and garlic bread," Roman continues, and Virgil can smell it, heavy and fragrant, in the air. He wishes he could subsist off that. He has a better chance of that than managing to eat more than a bite or two of Patton's food and that's going to upset Patton, which will upset Roman, and it will be all his fault-

"Hey," Roman says, stopping dead. "Virge? Storm cloud, breathe. It's okay. Did you not want spaghetti? You don't have to eat it."

"What's wrong?" Logan's voice, coming closer, and soon, Virgil can hear Patton's concerned tones, too, but it all sounds very far away, and his ears are full of static-

He doesn't fall, so much as he bonelessly slides to the floor in a heap, caught by Roman in the nick of time. The last thing he hears is Roman's anguished voice say, "He's so light-"

He wakes up slowly, his head pounding, to discover he's been settled on the living room couch. Roman sits next to him, still holding his hand. Virgil can still smell garlic bread and he cringes. He can guess what happened. How could he have been so stupid? And now Roman feels obligated to sit here with him, when he should-

"You're awake," Roman says in relief, peering down at him. "Patton! Logan! He's awake!"

"Good," a too-familiar voice responds instead. Virgil groans when Deceit comes into view, nearly sauntering. "Well, Virgil, this isn't at all a familiar place for you to be in, is it?"

"Screw you," Virgil mutters, taking refuge in talking back, though it hurts to talk. How long has he gone without drinking something? He can't remember.

"Certainly, darling, but your boyfriend might take offense," Deceit sasses right back, making Virgil go painfully red out to his ears.

"Deceit helped me put you on the couch," Roman supplies. "He uh- he said you do this a lot."

"Not a lot," Virgil corrects. "It's just er- It's my anxiety."

"Virgil, are you actually trying to lie when the embodiment of deceit is standing right in front of you?" Deceit asks incredulously, as Patton and Logan stumble into the room. Patton's carrying a tray that looks fit for an invalid. It's... startlingly reminiscent of the trays Deceit would make up for him and he can tell by the way Deceit's suddenly looked away that he's drawing the same parallels.

"Deceit wouldn't explain very much without your permission," Roman says, subdued. His fingers squeeze Virgil's limp ones. "But I can guess. You can hide much behind a hoodie, can't you?"

Virgil flushes redder.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

"Virge, I'll always worry about you, I love you," Roman insists. "Please. Even if you don't say anything right now. That's fine. Just. Let us help you?" Virgil swallows, looking at everyone crowded into the living room. Even Deceit, who came up for him.

"Okay," he says. "Thank you."

Roman grins in relief, leaning down and pecking Virgil on the lips.

"You're welcome," he says. "Now, uh- Deceit, what did you do with my brother?" Deceit freezes, his eyes comically wide.

"Oh, shit," he says, and promptly sinks out.

#🍬 txt #sanders sides #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #sympathetic deceit #roman #virgil #patton #logan #deceit #📚 #ok to rb #peach writes #janus

[sharada-n]

More TUA because I love Luther and I love Five and if I have to fill the Luther positivity tag with my own bare hands I will do so-

Summary: Four years truly is a very long time to be away. Then again, four probably doesn't weigh up against seventeen (and then some)

(ao3)

Four years was an awfully long time, Luther had discovered.

208 weeks. 1460 days. 35063 hours. Luther had never been much good at math - physics was more his style – and had flunked on every one of those advanced classes their father was ever so fond of subjecting them to, but there wasn't exactly anything better to do when you're all alone and bored out of your mind than keep track of time passing. And he had felt every single one of those one hundred twenty million something seconds.

There were only so many samples one could take, so many reports one could write, so many hours one could waste away by staring at the earth turning in lazy circles so far away and so full of people and life it was almost sickening.

And him, all by himself, for reasons that only turned out to be pointless.

He filled the glass again, all the way up to the brim, the booze a beautiful amber in color. Say what you want about Sir Reginald Hargreeves: that he was a monster, a psychopath, a lunatic, and a terrible father to boot, but the old man had good taste when it came to liquor.

For a moment he simply watched the liquid threaten to spill over the brim, suspended in animation, and he had to shake the thought that Dad would hate that, would hate it if they wasted his precious whiskey or ruined his expensive mahogany table.

Luther didn't really care though.

"Are you drinking scotch?" Five's voice was as casual as always, but just the barest trace of amusement lingered. Especially when he got closer and got a better look. "No, are you drinking scotch out of a wine glass? That's just unethical."

Luther hadn't heard him come in. That wasn't exactly unusual for Five of course, who always just went where he wanted when he wanted without concern for, well, anything or anyone. He hummed in response, taking a sip. Whiskey, much like any drink with an alcohol percentage above 10%, should probably be enjoyed in moderation. He didn't particularly care about that either.

"As much as I enjoy seeing you finally indulging in teen rebellion, I have to say I'm surprised," Five took the seat opposite him casually, hands clasped behind his head. "After the whole rave thing, I thought you would have enough for a while."

Luther visibly cringed at that. "Klaus told you about that?"

"Klaus tells everybody everything." Five answered.

There was a weird noise, it was similar to the popping of your eardrums when you get on a plane. It reminded Luther of that first journey and the way he had clenched his hands into fists, breath fogging against the inside of his helmet. Then Five was back again, a blink-and-you-missed-it moment, but he had a glass in his hand which he slammed onto the table loudly.

"Pour me a drink, would you?"

Luther raised one eyebrow, the bottle of whiskey was still in his hand and he held it closer now, out of his brother's reach. "Aren't you a little young to be drinking?"

He wasn't sure if it was a joke or a reprimand. Maybe it was both. Five threw him a look that spoke more than words ever could, balancing the glass on its side, spinning it in lazy circles with one finger. It was one of their father's crystal tumblers. The ones that were always kept on the highest shelves out of reach from curious children.

"Too old, more like," Five said eventually when it became abundantly clear that this was one of those things Luther was going to be annoyingly obstinate about. "But fine, tell me what's on your mind first then."

He hesitated, took another sip just to not have to say it and then proceeded to down the entire thing automatically. There are a lot of the Hargreeves siblings you can get away with lying to, but Five wasn't one of them. "It's stupid." He admitted.

Five did that thing where he kind of rolled his eyes, though there was no malice beneath it. It was strange, to see this boy who looked not a day older than the one that stormed out of the kitchen in a childish tantrum when they were kids, but who didn't sound or act anything like himself anymore.

Luther filled his glass again.

"It's just really stupid," He repeated, watching the reflections in the liquid instead of his brother's face. "You don't actually want to know, probably."

Five's lip twitched. Maybe it was a smile. Maybe he was about to ask why Luther would think that. He shook his head, leaning back in the chair, balancing precariously with his feet on the tabletop.

Their mother always told them how dangerous it was. How easy it was to lose your balance and crack your head open on the kitchen linoleum. Their father never said anything though. He probably thought a few cracked skulls would be an ideal learning experience.

"Try me."

Luther sighed. "It's just weird being back, that's all." He glanced up at Five awkwardly. He didn't know what he expected the other to say now but his admission was only met with silence, so he took that as a cue to keep going. "So much has changed it's like... Like I'm not even coming home to the same place anymore. And now we have all this shit going on and the reports, it's-"

"I've been gone for half a decade."

And when Five set his glass upright again, Luther dutifully filled it to the brim.

"It's the small things. Silly things, you know," He left the bottle in the middle this time, so either of them could reach it just fine. Letting a minor drink still felt off to Luther, but his rigid moral compass hadn't exactly served him well the past week so he was happy to ignore it for now. "Like the record shop down the road that closed down. Or my favorite radio channel not having the same hosts anymore. But it feels so big to me."

Five nodded empathically but still didn't say anything. Luther felt like there was probably a reason for that, but couldn't think about it and now that he had opened his mouth suddenly it was too hard to stop the next sentence from escaping. "It's not like I had much of a life outside the academy to begin with but even that has completely slipped away in just those four years. It's-"

"Surreal?" Five finished his sentence for him, one eyebrow arched and his glass was empty again but he didn't look inclined to refill it. Maybe his stint at the library was still affecting him, though Luther doubted it.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Here's how I see it-" Five started and stopped, probably noticing Luther subconsciously bracing for impact by finishing another glassful. He rolled his eyes again. "You can either wallow in misery about having lost everything, or you can use this opportunity to build something new."

The confused look on Luther's face probably spoke volumes about his current capability to comprehend such sage advice, with the whiskey bottle near empty between them.

"What I'm saying is, being away meant you lost everything. And coming back means you have to start all over again. But that's just the way of the world. Everything changes all the time, you can't hold on to anything." Five clarified. It was probably the most Luther had heard him say since all this bullshit started. "Only the really important people, you have to hold on to those."

It was incredibly profound. Luther probably shouldn't respond with a joke, the sober part of himself realized. Which might have been a good thing, if he was at all sober right now. Too bad he wasn't.

"When did you become so old and wise?"

Five smiled, lightly, sincerely, but it didn't reach his eyes yet and Luther knew it would take a while. For both of them.

"You should listen to your elders," Five reached out to tip the bottle upside down one last time, shaking it to get the last drops out. He put the glass to his lips. "They are way smarter than you."

The response was near automatic. "You sound like dad."

Five chocked on the drink rather comically, coughing hard. "God, I fucking hope not."

They laughed about it then, maybe because that's the only thing they could do. Maybe because it didn't matter anymore. Soon the world would end and then nothing mattered.

But for now, they had time.

#Tua #The Umbrella Academy #luther hargreeves #five hargreeves #luther positivity #my writing #tw: child abuse #its vague but it's there #tw: alcohol

[7deadlycinderellas]

The Starks at War, 1941 part 2

AO3 link

(who knew all I needed was something called the “Abandoned WIP challenge to finish another chapter of this?)

Arya doesn’t stop shaking the whole way home, through to the next day. Asha accompanies her, sympathetic, but distant. The bus ride is hell.

When Arya walks through the front door, Jojen and Bran are playing cards, but stop immediately to look at her.

“Arya-” Bran starts, stuttering, “Mother?”

Arya feels a sob choke out, then get stuck halfway.

“How did you know?” Asha asks.

“Radio,” Bran says, pointing at the wireless set by the front window, “It said that the Germans hit a military hospital- the one we knew you were going to.” His voice suddenly becomes thick, and Arya realizes he sounds double his newly fifteen years.

“We were scared, we thought it might be both of you.”

Arya slumps down in her chair.

“It was stupid, really,” Jojen comments, “painting crosses on the roofs of all the hospitals. Just gave them something to aim at.”

“If half the stories out of France are true, it is our error to expect any kind of fair play from Nazis.”

Arya feels like she can barely move.

After a time, Asha stands to leave.

“I’ll spend the night at the inn and leave in the morning.”

She leans down to clap Arya on the shoulder.”

“You know where to reach me.”

Once Asha leaves, Arya slumps and clutches her face in her hands.

“I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it,” is all she can whisper to herself.

Autumn begins to turn over the coming weeks. Arya sleepwalks into it. Gilly ends up being the one who goes to the church to report. There are no remains to bury.

Sansa calls multiple times a week.

She keeps asking if they need her to come home. They all push her off. Winterfell isn’t home as it was, and they won’t bring her back if she is needed elsewhere.

She’s begun to settle in in London. The flat she shares with Margaery is tiny, just a bedroom and kitchen. The two beds they’ve managed to drag in barely have enough room between them to walk.The walls are papered, but it’s fading and peeling. The heating doesn’t always work, what with the coal shortages. Often at night, the two of them simply pull on all of their clothes before crawling into bed.

The tenement building’s shelter is outside. When the air raid sirens bellow, they have to shove on their slippers, grab their masks and barrel down the stairs among the other flat-dwellers. Praying that all they will hear is the sirens and not the whine of an incendiary or the gait shattering boom of an explosion before they manage to cram themselves inside.

Sansa’s begun adjusting to the work as well. She spends all day in the tiny gray office, editing and retyping papers, sometimes helping Margaery do translations. Sometimes, even work is interrupted by air raids.

She can’t stop thinking of what Catelyn would have said to see her now. With her short cut hair and simple office clothes, she looks nothing like the debutante she dreamed of being. This was not a world her or her mother would have even thought to be part of.

She’s good with idioms, her supervisor notes, so at least she can take pride in that. She was always good at French in school, longing one day to go there, to see the sights and the glamor for herself.

One night when they’re at home, eating some cobbled together vegetable medley, cooked in a pan, Margaery comments,

“I think I’m going to cut my hair. I’m sick of having to set the whole mess at night.”

Sansa nods. She had been surprised when watching Margaery do her hair the first time, to see how hard she worked to make it perfect. Without the curlers at night, one side would curl up perfectly, and the other would hang straight pin straight, stretched out by its length.

“They do say long hair is terribly old-fashioned.”

Margaery sighs when it’s finished, touching the ends as though she can’t believe it’s gone. But now the sides curl properly, and she won’t have to do anything but wash it and wrap it all up before bed.

“My mother used to put it up for me when I was little, the way she did when she went out,” she comments idly.

“You never told me what happened to your mother,” Sansa tells her, suddenly keenly feeling her own loss that she’s spent so much time shoving down deep inside.

“She died of the flu- not the big one, just the usual one- when I was ten. My father was never the same after that. I’m not sure any of us were.”

Sansa is quiet. She understands really. She’s almost appreciative that she hadn’t been at home most of this entire past year. She can’t imagine how her mother must have taken her father’s death. While the pair had never been the most demonstrative of their affections, their children were very secure in the fact that the two had loved each other, and that not all married couples were as lucky.

Margaery glances down at herself.

“She always wanted the best for me. Nothing specific, just that I would be happy and the best person I could be. She was the only one I think. Everyone else has their own ideas about who I am and exactly what I should aim for.”

“What do you want to do? What would make you happy?”

Margaery’s expression is pensieve.

“I wish I’d applied to go to university. I’d like to study political science. I’d like a proper little flat, near a park, one that’s not been bombed. Maybe I’ll marry, but only if I meet someone I want to. Maybe I will when the war is over.“

It has been strange, Sansa thinks, leaving school behind and seeing Margaery for who she really was. She had always thought they were friends, but here she’s stripped bare. She’s not a prefect, or head of the French club, or the beautiful polished girl Sansa had idolized. Here she chips her nails and ladders her stockings and forgets her hat just like everyone else.

That doesn’t mean Sansa doesn’t still look up to her though. She fits right in at the office, even with most of the others being London born girls who left school at fourteen and knew they would end up working if they didn’t marry. Many of them were pleased to work in an office, rather than in a factory, or worse, in service. Sansa sometimes feels tongue tied around them, and not just because the Starks have always had a few people employed in service.

Before October, both of them get letters inviting them for an interview with the same Baelish that Margaery had said recognized Sansa’s name. The instructions have them both come to a tiny, bare bones hotel room during lunch hour. Sansa’s stomach grumbles while she’s outside waiting  for Margaery to finish her turn. Her stomach is not eased by her own interview.

Petyr Baelish isn’t a tall man. Sansa’s used to looking most grown men in the eye, and finds that when he stands, she’s actually looking more at his hairline. He has dark hair, going somewhat gray, a neat mustache and an overall aura of having everything under his control.  

He asks her dozens of questions, some of which she doesn’t even understand. But by the time it’s done, she has a job offer.

And a new, horrifying, realization, about the nature of the office where she’s been working.

Her and Margaery both, are, on paper, enlisted in the FANY, the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry. In practice, they were brought aboard the organization that became known as SOE for secret operations, and being sent to Scotland for their training.

Sansa cringes at the slightest thought of what her mother would say. But her mother is dead now, and this gives her the slightest hope for vengeance. Vengeance. That was one of those words so beloved in those awful twopenny comics Arya and Bran devoured.

It doesn’t take long before she wonders what on earth she was thinking by accepting.

Even reaching the training school is rough. The terrain in Scotland is difficult. By the time they reach the facility, they are all exhausted, hungry, soaked through with rain and covered in scratches. And when they reach it, the real fun begins.

Sansa never once in her life thought she would someday learn to shoot a gun, or disarm a man, or be required to carry a suicide pill. These skills are not second nature to her, so she has to work at it. When her eyes threaten to prick full of tears and her throat threatens to close up, she thinks of her mother’s face, dead now for no reason, and no one coming to save her, or Sansa or anyone. No one is coming to save them.

She learns to parrot back the goal they are told. To resist the enemy by any means necessary. There aren’t a great many women in training with them, but there are far more than Sansa would have expected. Too many in England have lost loved ones in this war. Too many have seen their homes destroyed.

Learning telegraphy and morse code are much easier, even if they are still totally foreign skills for her. She goes back through Arya’s letters, remembering her speaking of learning these things for Girl Guides. These at least, don’t make the bile rise in the back of Sansa’s throat at even the thought of using them.

One night, she sits on the end of her bed and puts her head in her hands. Margaery has the bunk above her. There are bunks here, it’s like being back at school again.

“What’s wrong?”

Sansa’s shoulders slump as she responds.

“All I can think is how much my younger sister would prefer learning all of this than me. She always loved science fiction and pulp magazines and those awful two-penny adventure comics. And when I called home last, she sounded so angry...she needs to feel like she’s contributing as much as us, but she can’t. She’s sixteen, she’s tiny and she’s stuck at home still.”

Margaery frowns, deep in thought.

“Your sister Arya...you said she’s only sixteen?”

Sansa nods.

“She’ll be seventeen at the beginning of next year.”

“Then let her be a child if she can still, we don’t know how long this war will last. Besides, from your stories, she always sounded like such an impulsive and ill-refined girl.”

Sansa sniffs. Her stories had always been terribly unfair to Arya. She might still prefer running about outside, but she hadn’t thrown a tantrum in ages, and the shouting and even the insults were a thing of the long past. They might never have been as close as sisters in Jane Austen novels, but they hadn’t fought each other in so long.

Except when they did.

“She is.”

Margaery smiles, and plays with one of her gloves.

“Know why Baelish had been head-hunting us?”

Sansa shakes her head.

“Because aristocratic women are good at a great deal more than picking out dresses and fixing their hair. We know manners, and pick up rules of etiquette with ease. We are good at talking to people and getting them to tell us things. And we are excellent at keeping up appearances under pressure.”

Sansa nods, and tries to put on her face.

And it is very easy to see why Margaery was selected. Her French is perfect and she has a great deal of knowledge of French geography, culture and fashion. Information that it turns out, Sansa has picked up quite easily having hung on Margaery’s words when she was just the glamorous school prefect.

And it’s so much easier to keep her face on in the dorms than out in the training field with a weapon in her hands.

One of the instructor’s compliments Sansa on her accent.

“A bit breathy, true, but the disguise of an excited young girl can be very handy. Very few would doubt the intentions of one.”

When the both of them get near to finishing training, Baelish’s assessment claims they would both make excellent radio operators. Even Sansa’s not naive enough to believe that’s a safe occupation, like Baelish insists. Mum had seemed fond enough of him, but Sansa doesn’t trust something in his gaze.

This is what sticks in Sansa’s mind as Margaery and her are sent off to parachute school. The first day of training, she stares out the window and wishes she were more like Arya.

That same day, Arya gets the telegram.

The months since Mother had died were hell. Arya has kept up with the girl guides when she could. She helps out with the WVS, who seems nearly as lost without Catelyn as she does. She helps Bran stumble through the paperwork needed to keep the family affairs in order. She tries to help Gilly with little Sam and Weasel.

She writes Gendry whenever she can. His letters are always so sweet, so understanding, but he can’t write often. And she doesn’t know if her own letters actually capture even half of what she feels.

He writes that he wishes he could come see her, but the Navy is stingy with leave, and when he gets a day, he’s stationed too far away to make the train ride south in the time given. Sometimes, selfishly, Arya wishes she could ask him to come anyway, but she can’t. She won’t get him in trouble because of her.

The day the telegram comes, she’s about to burst as it is. It’s only a few days after America has entered the war, wrapping her mind around that was hard enough.

She’s in the kitchen, staring at the paper when the others trickle in for lunch.

Bran notices first, Arya’s stony white face.

“What now?” he asks.

Arya’s hands are holding the card still, but her fingers are shaking.

“It’s Robb,” her voice says, low, dead. “His plane was shot down over France. They have no idea what’s become of him.”

Without meeting his eye, she hands the telegram to Bran, puts her hands on the table. Then she lays her face down on top of them and cries.

None of them could have known what was going down in France at the moment.

Robb was a competent pilot. He wasn’t a natural like Jon was, but he was good enough. This was very little comfort when his plane was currently on fire and quickly losing altitude.

He tried to radio out assistance, but the controls are dead. Robb’s head is throbbing from where it slammed against the inside of the cockpit and he can hardly think. It’s only through sheer luck that he manages to get his parachute on and leap from the rapidly descending plane and pray as he bails out for the ground.

The air rushes around him for only a split second it seems before he collides with the ground so hard that it feels like he’s being manhandled. He thinks he hears something crack, but he can’t stop to think. All he sees is blurs, all he hears is ringing and all he smells is blood and smoke. He tries to stand and run, but his body isn’t listening.

Eventually, one of those blurs comes closer, and grabs him, by the arm, pulling roughly. His legs screech in protest, his lungs wail, but it keeps pulling, and eventually the world begins to return to him.

The figure pulling him, he eventually sees is a woman. Young, perhaps in her twenties, with dark hair. She wears a heavy, dark green coat and her footsteps are heavy.

Eventually, the image of a barn comes into sight. The woman pulling him stops, moves something, and the next that Robbs knows, he’s being shoved into what seems like a hole in the ground.

“Stay quiet. Don’t make a sound until I come back for you. Not a single word, or you’re dead.”

Robb tries to stop himself from blacking out, but he doesn’t succeed.

When he comes to, he takes inventory of his surroundings. Dirt, a lot of dirt. A couple of what look like potatoes in one corner. A root cellar, most likely. The inhales and all he can smell is dirt too. His leg is on fire, and much of his skin is too. He fears when he wakes up fully, the pain will be so bad it makes him pass out again.

He can hear people outside, somewhere, faintly. He follows the woman’s advice and pretends he’s dead. He hears planes overhead, and gunfire too. He hopes his squadmates are alright.

Robb’s not sure how long it is before the cellar door cracks open and he jumps, squawking in pain, but the woman from before pulls him out again and leads him to the farmhouse.

“I told them where I saw your plane go down. I told them I saw it on fire and was worried about the trees in the wood. I didn’t say anything about your chute, I burned it in the hearth.”

After she leads him in and lays him upon a wooden chair, she retrieves a glass and tells him to drink the liquid inside. It’s bitter, and he sputters, but she pushes it to his lips again, and after that, he fades in and out.

When he finally wakes, there’s the sound of a kettle whistling.

“Not real tea, I’m afraid, but dried mint is good enough to pretend.”

She sits across from him. Even still in pain, Robb can’t help but notice that she’s lovely. He sips the mint tea and tries not to choke.

When he finally gathers the mindfulness to speak, he picks his first question carefully.

“What’s your name?”

The woman sighs, before taking her own cup and sitting in the other chair.

“Talisa.”

“Talisa,” he says, feeling the name on his tongue, “I’m Robb.”

“I suppose we should use each other’s Christian names, given we’re going to be stuck here together for at least six weeks” she admits. Then she gestures at Robb’s leg, which she has immobilized with splints and thick rolls of bandage cloth. “Don’t try and move. I couldn’t set a proper cast, but I did my best. Don’t ruin all my hard work.” Dimly, Robb realizes he is covered in cuts that are also bandaged.

Robb is flush with gratitude.

“Thank you,” he says. He examines her bandaging. “Are you a nurse?”

Talisa nods.

“I was going to be, before-” she waves her arm out, “All of this.”

Robb glances around the farmhouse, and realizes the place is empty, but has the signs of other people having lived here before. Four chairs around the table, more cups than one person would need.

“Do you live here by yourself?”

Talisa nods, sadly.

“My father died when I was young, of a fever. I was born in Guernica. When Franco bombed it, me, my mother and my brother escaped and fled here. My father was French, so getting asylum was easier.”

“Guernica,” Robb muses, rolling the word around in his mouth, wondering where he’s heard it. “That’s in Spain right?”

Talisa purses her lips before answering.

“I guess it was too much to expect England to have reported too much on our own little war. But yes, Guernica is in Spain. The three of us came here and worked this farm. Then the Germans came. It had barely been three years. Seems like such a little time of peace.”

She turns away, and Robb chooses not to press her.

“Once your leg heals enough, I’ll pass you off to the resistance, and they can see about getting you home.”

“The German’s won’t get suspicious of you?” Robb asks. He doesn’t want to bring any trouble to her.

“That’s no matter,” she insists, “It’s not like you can go anywhere on your own, and anything I can do to be a thorn in the side of the Third Reich, the better.”

Talisa drains her cup at this point, pushing it back down against the table, and briefly shuts her eyes.

“It’s probably not good to admit, but I am happy that at least I’ll have someone here to talk to this Christmas.”

Christmas, Robb thinks. He hadn’t even realized.

Christmas 1941 is hellish for his own family.

Jon can barely eat any of the Christmas dinner the servicemen are given. It feels like ashes in his gut.

Sansa is given a break over Christmas, but the next day is when they’re supposed to be given their first parachute lessons. She cries herself to sleep, in fear. Fear for herself, fear for her brother. In her more fanciful moments, she imagines parachuting into France and one day bumping into him on the street. Perhaps he’d lost his memory, she wonders, her mind a Hollywood fantasy.

Arya and Bran are still at Winterfell.

Bran is overwhelmed. The work that has been left in his lap threatens to consume him, even as he had wished so hard to be useful.

Arya feels nearly dead inside.

The past two Christmases without Robb and Jon had been bad enough, but at least there were his letters. Now she can’t read them without wondering if they’re the last she will ever receive.

On Christmas Eve, no tree, no lights, no Christmas dinner, Arya stares out her bedroom window. Father, Mother, Robb gone. Jon, Sansa and Gendry far too far away. Bran overwhelmed, even Gilly, Sam and Weasel ash-faced.

They see Rickon so little it’s as though he’s slipped away.

It hardly feels like Christmas at all.

Maybe it would be better if she weren’t here too. One less mouth to poorly feed.

She leaves her bicycle, and her books. She takes Gendry’s letters, and she wonders if she’ll be able to receive any more of them.

The day Arya turns seventeen, she calls Asha Greyjoy, asking if her offer still stands.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #fic #ww2 au