#christopher frost

[rozetheeuwu]

Expression practice ft my friends/mutuals ocs!

Ocs from left to right

June - @crimsoncrim

Ozu - @zheph / zhephs-dlc

Kahula - @jacobtheeevee

Sara - @tired-needs-sleep

Blossom - @kyteau

Luci - @kiroons-hyperfixtations

Zai - @/k1pCS (twitter)

Miles - Pink/RozeTheeUwU (Me!)

Hephae - @superdummymags

Frost - @/MeteorsStrike (twitter)

Audrey - @spar-kie

Azel - @musedbye

[ravxe3n]

requests and doodles

[browsethestacks]

The Women Of Marvel

Negative Space Variant Covers

Art by John Tyler Christopher

[thena0315]

2025 One Chicago Event: In The Trenches

January 29, 2025

[secondtolastrow]

Look Scott never gets like. Good at being a person again, as an adult. He’s got too much on his plate and it only seems to pile on heavier

His parents were pretty good, when he was a kid, about letting him be himself. He had to learn quickly at the orphanage—how to modulate tone, how to cope with bad textures, that groaning and rocking and any other visible stims were signs of weakness. (There’s only so quickly, of course, that that could go. There are reasons he made a run for it, and for a long time he thinks he can point to that as the biggest.)

It’s one of those things Scott and the Professor don’t talk about—the kind where Scott’s sure he knows, but he’s never made any move to act about it. He tells himself it’s acceptance

(He talks to Corsair about it, once, and his dad apparently had no idea. Scott was Scott and that was all that mattered. He doesn’t know what to call the emotion that lodges in his chest)

He doesn’t do the things he used to do, by the time he can call himself an X-Man. He doesn’t do any of the new things he wants to, either, doesn’t fiddle with the dial on his visor because that’s dangerous or tap his feet or wring his hands. (He adjusts his glasses a little too often, loves the way loud music with heavy bass runs through his chest, learns to flip pens through his fingers, and doesn’t realize that that’s the same thing)

He still sounds flat and harsh sometimes, still gets caught in loops in his brain, still can’t just make fucking eye contact with anybody, but the glasses mean no one asks about that anymore and that’s a strange little victory that he carries almost smugly, getting that one over on the world

(He doesn’t notice, not for a long time, the way that Jean sometimes misses social cues, how she withdraws a little and then ends up snapping when the rest of them really get going, how annoyed she gets when things change. It takes a while before he sees her stop cutting off the motion and just let her hands flap as she chatters at Warren and realizes she’s trusting them with the freak side of her. The side she’s learned to keep locked up, just like he has)

Hank buys him a weighted blanket, first, but it’s only when Bobby gets him noise cancelling headphones (the Christmas before Phoenix happens) (he can’t bring himself to use them, but he passes them on to Jean and she loves them) that he realizes they’ve seen him. That they know this part of him

(Maddy clicks her tongue and curls up in chairs in ways that he now knows to call vestibular stims. When they’re quiet, when they’re alone, her feet squirm and she knocks herself against walls. They’re not the things Jean did, not at all. She never stops masking, though, not ever, not even when it’s just them. He sometimes wonders if she could even do it when it’s just her)

Emma, in their first days working together, comes to him angrily muttering about how the Professor had never met an IEP before in her life, sees the look on his face, and groans that none of them should be running a school

Later—but early, too, when she’s still really trying to do something more than give them plausible deniability for an affair—she does a lot of learning about adults with autism, because so much of her education had focused on running a school. She talks with him about boundaries, about making space for himself. Scott tells her that the last time he had a meltdown he was seventeen

All Emma does is give him a slightly pitying look, because she always sees right through him

[thatluckystrudel]

on da bike @ravxe3n 🚲

[thatawkwardmoth]

Emma and Scott both having shitty parents (not Katherine Summers, I'm never talking shit about her) is just another reason they make a good couple.

Let me explain:

Scott is raised military before he's even a soldier for Xavier. It's little things that show it but, as someone who's dad was raised by a military man, sometimes it's hard for parents to leave the army for Base only. Scott, in the meager amount of scenes we get of his childhood, has almost the same mindest of Dean Winchester in a way. His father gives an order, he might protest but eventually, he always complies. Number one example being the plane crash and the one parachute thing. But also that he spends so much time worrying over Alex. Even after being forced to forget about him, he still remembers parts of him. And yes, it is because that's his little brother and he loves him so much. But it could also be because the phrases: 'look out for your brother', 'Keep your brother safe', 'Watch out for Alex', have been said to him since the day he met Alex in the hospital, newborn and fragile enough that Scott, even at two years old, knew not to be rough.

And it doesn't change, even on the Krakoa arc, he is angry over Alex being placed on Sinister's team. (And sinister referring to the brothers as 'his boys' gives me the ick. They Not Like Us vibes from his character in general when it comes to the Summers brothers…) He can't take care of Alex, make sure he's safe and sound, if he's on the same team as the guy who experimented on a preteen Scott for funsies and genetic testing.

Now, Katherine Summers, we don't have a lot of comics with her. But she's shown as the perfect mother figure, raising two rowdy boys mostly on her own with how busy Christopher is. And Scott and Alex remember her fondly. So no fault to her. But Christopher fucking Summers, every fault to him.

I'm not demonizing him, I need that known. I'm not saying that he's the next John Winchester (because at least he came back to check on his kids, unlike Corsair), I'm just saying that he raised Scott to be the perfect solider for Xavier and the perfect experiment for Sinister. Because he followed orders and he didn't argue back to adults (eventually he did, but you get the point).

Scott has so much unpacked trauma from his childhood and that small series where deplaced Scott is with Corsair doesn't really cover any of it. Neither do modern comics.

Emma, on the other hand, was raised in high society. Has always known the rich life and the challenges and difficulties that come with it. Mainly, her father's goals for her and her mother's long broken soul.

She grew up trying to be the perfect daughter despite being the black sheep. She couldn't meet his goals and faced his wrath for having dreams about being a teacher. His rage followed her into training the Hellions and it led to their deaths.

Now, it's not just her father's temper that is the reason she's got shitty parents. He's a cheater, a manipulator and discards his children like broken toys when they don't follow his strict guidelines of life, ex. Chrisitan being a drug addict, the older sister doing modeling, his younger being more goth and alternative for 'attention' as Emma puts it. Leaving him to pick Emma to continue his company because she's like him, a fact he learns after she blackmails and exposes his affair to his wife. He's willing to let Emma be given a pass on things purely because of his money and only stops her from hooking up with her teacher because it's not who he wants her with. No mind to the fact that he's an adult and she was a child. I hate the teacher thing. Can we tell?

He's a shit father but Hazel Frost is not exempt from my shit talking. She is not Katherine Summers. She's absent most of the time. Being the perfect socialite wife. She doesn't have a life outside of her husband's money and the parties she throws (more garden parties, not Tony Stark rager parties). She cares about her children, yes. But the tiniest amount. She can't bring herself to be there for them when they're going through difficult times. She's been broken by the expectations on her, to be the traditional wife, that she can't be bothered when the affair is revealed to her. It's heartbreaking and it makes me sad but it doesn't excuse the way she ignored her son's drug habit or her daughter's crisis with new powers and bullies at school.

Now Jean Grey has shitty parents but only after she is revealed to be a mutant to them. They sent her to Xavier's school to help her through the grief of her friend's accident and the issues she'd been having recently, not because anyone told them about her mutation. Now them rejecting her did hurt and they played a giant part in her turning into Dark Phoniex. But that happened when she was an adult. For her formative years as a child, they were present and lovely. Even as a teenager, it's shown that she calls them and writes letters and visits them on holidays. So, as much as I am a Jott and Scemma shipper alike, she can't relate to Scott's trauma and parent issues until she herself is burned and abandoned by her own. Emma, on the hand, can. She's had a shitty dad and Scott's had two and one creep that is obessed with him. She's had to mature faster because of her father not paying her ransom and making her rescue herself and decide to run away. Scott can relate to her running away, seeing as it is his favorite thing to do. Ex, the orphanage, Xavier's, Alaska, so on and so on.

Emma has even lost loves before! She was geuinely in love with the guy waiter from the comic series about her life. Was distraught when he died. She's been scorned by lovers before as well. Her teacher that she had a crush on and sabatoged a few friendships in college for (stupid plotline. stupid. stupid.) eventually reveals that he hates mutants and sees them as freaks, making Emma leave him and never look back (finally, my girl was free).

Jean hasn't. She's never lost Scott except when he cheated. She's never had to grieve him or bury him as many times as he has had to for her. Even Madelyne, who scorned Scott for reasons purely blamed on the absolute worst comic book misunderstanding and miscommunication ever, has never related to Scott on those levels. Emma has buried him and been scorned by him and still loves him, is the one he trusts with his resurrections in the Arbor Magna. It really speaks volumes.

And I'm not pitting the two ships against each other. I'm not. I'm pointing out the differences in the way they can relate to each others' pasts.

[emmafrostcovercollection]

X-Men: Heir of Apocalypse #2 (2024) - Garbett Variant

[ghost-bison]

heheehe i'm currently watching the leftovers and honestly the first two eps were kinda hard to watch: lots of information, you're dropped in the middle of the plot and have to go backwards in order to fill in the blanks and understand, lots of characters each with their own stories that are all, as you find out, intertwined, in short it's a beautiful, complicated spiderweb.

it took me until the third episode to really appreciate it, and not just because it's focused on christopher eccleston's character (matt jamison) and that i absolutely love this actor, but also because said character matt isn't as connected to the story as other characters are.

i mean, he is connected, through secrets and his sister and the fact that he's the town's priest so kind of a messenger when it comes to the main plot's elements. but the way that you follow him throughout episode three didn't make all that overwhelming.

for starters, it only focused on his character when the first two if i remember correctly are like i said a web, sometimes even a conglomeration of events and stories and characters. characters whom we don't know the names of yet btw. takes a while to understand that this one is the cop's son and this one the cop's daughter and that other one is the priest's sister etc...

then, even though matt's episode did raise some questions (like his relationship with the cop's dad, or elements of his backstory, or even "is matt a good guy?" cause it's really ambiguous), it also answered some other questions (elements from the first episodes for example).

finally, it's not as confusing as the first two eps because it's really fast-paced, a roller-coaster of emotions, and it crescendos until you reach the episode's climax and you don't know wtf to make of matt anymore.

like you can't really hate him cause you've been basically in his shoes for an entire episode and man was it hard af, but also he's a big hypocrite, but also you agree with what he does but then you don't cause he's an asshole but then you feel bad for him cause dude is so fucking tired and can't catch a break but at the same time god is he stupid???

wonderfully written character, played by an incredible actor. this right here is nuance, bitches. saw an article that said eccleston perfectly portrayed a character that sees the world in black and white but lives is shades of grey (aka his principles only apply to him when it's convenient) and that's exactly it.

best type of character you don't know whether to hug him or slap him. probably both.

also this one episode where kevin is insulting this dude on the phone then he hangs up and screams fuck and matt is standing right behind all awkward and he says "i say fuck too" with a proud little smile like

this is fkn glorious

and the other characters are very cool too: kevin, nora, aimee is hilarious, meg is strange and cute, the frost twins are adorable (omg they're the twins from teen wolf who could converge and form an enormous werewolf dude wtf hello), and wayne wtaf.

if you doctor who fans didn't remember: paterson joseph (wayne's actor) also played bitch ass rodrick in the finale 2 parters of series 1 and he was detestable. and as wayne i really don't know what to think of him except that paterson joseph is a really, really great actor. he's so scary and weird like AAAA

anyways hi i didn't sleep

[dk-thrive]

The more you concentrate on the negligible, the more you end up with the grand.

I remember Miller asking Hitchens if he knew the Robert Frost poem “A Considerable Speck.” Surprisingly, Hitchens didn’t. Miller then recited the entire poem word for word. Even Hitchens was impressed. “A Considerable Speck” is about a writer observing a tiny insect crawling across his white page and his sudden awareness of this microscopic creature’s significance. Frost’s poem struck a chord with Miller. He’d often stated that the importance of the seemingly insignificant was the basis of his work as a physician and a director: “The more you concentrate on the negligible, the more you end up with the grand.”

— Keith McNally, I Regret Almost Everything: A Memoir (Gallery Books, May 6, 2025)

[bringbackwendellvaughn]

[ravxe3n]

WALTZ (+ diehl) objects!!!!! yayayayay

so nice you see them twice (and transparent 0mg) Doodles!!

click 2 see oomf ( @boozedrenchedfruitcake ) doodles

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

One Chicago Crossover Episode Description Screenshots Below the Cut

Descriptions found on Twitter/X for the One Chicago Crossover.

Source: https://x.com/haileyuptn/status/1878928595848192036?s=46

[thena0315]

One Chicago 2025 Crossover Event

[crisisofinfinitemultiverses]

Immortal X-Men 11 (2023) variant by John Tyler Christopher

[not-that-good-at-breathing-in]

i was reading this Robert Frost poem and it made me think about Tony Soprano (almost everything does) so i am deciding to post the poem in it's entirety into the sopranos tag:

Home Burial

He saw her from the bottom of the stairs

Before she saw him. She was starting down,

Looking back over her shoulder at some fear.

She took a doubtful step and then undid it

To raise herself and look again. He spoke

Advancing toward her: ‘What is it you see

From up there always—for I want to know.’

She turned and sank upon her skirts at that,

And her face changed from terrified to dull.

He said to gain time: ‘What is it you see,’

Mounting until she cowered under him.

‘I will find out now—you must tell me, dear.’

She, in her place, refused him any help

With the least stiffening of her neck and silence.

She let him look, sure that he wouldn’t see,

Blind creature; and awhile he didn’t see.

But at last he murmured, ‘Oh,’ and again, ‘Oh.’

‘What is it—what?’ she said. ‘Just that I see.’

‘You don’t,’ she challenged. ‘Tell me what it is.’

‘The wonder is I didn’t see at once.

I never noticed it from here before.

I must be wonted to it—that’s the reason.

The little graveyard where my people are!

So small the window frames the whole of it.

Not so much larger than a bedroom, is it?

There are three stones of slate and one of marble,

Broad-shouldered little slabs there in the sunlight

On the sidehill. We haven’t to mind those.

But I understand: it is not the stones,

But the child’s mound—’ ‘Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t,’ she cried.

She withdrew shrinking from beneath his arm

That rested on the banister, and slid downstairs;

And turned on him with such a daunting look,

He said twice over before he knew himself:

‘Can’t a man speak of his own child he’s lost?’

‘Not you! Oh, where’s my hat? Oh, I don’t need it!

I must get out of here. I must get air.

I don’t know rightly whether any man can.’

‘Amy! Don’t go to someone else this time.

Listen to me. I won’t come down the stairs.’

He sat and fixed his chin between his fists.

‘There’s something I should like to ask you, dear.’

‘You don’t know how to ask it.’ ‘Help me, then.’

Her fingers moved the latch for all reply.

‘My words are nearly always an offense.

I don’t know how to speak of anything

So as to please you. But I might be taught

I should suppose. I can’t say I see how.

A man must partly give up being a man

With women-folk. We could have some arrangement

By which I’d bind myself to keep hands off

Anything special you’re a-mind to name.

Though I don’t like such things ’twixt those that love.

Two that don’t love can’t live together without them.

But two that do can’t live together with them.’

She moved the latch a little. ‘Don’t—don’t go.

Don’t carry it to someone else this time.

Tell me about it if it’s something human.

Let me into your grief. I’m not so much

Unlike other folks as your standing there

Apart would make me out. Give me my chance.

I do think, though, you overdo it a little.

What was it brought you up to think it the thing

To take your mother-loss of a first child

So inconsolably—in the face of love.

You’d think his memory might be satisfied—’

‘There you go sneering now!’ ‘I’m not, I’m not!

You make me angry. I’ll come down to you.

God, what a woman! And it’s come to this,

A man can’t speak of his own child that’s dead.’

‘You can’t because you don't know how to speak.

If you had any feelings, you that dug

With your own hand—how could you?—his little grave;

I saw you from that very window there,

Making the gravel leap and leap in air,

Leap up, like that, like that, and land so lightly

And roll back down the mound beside the hole.

I thought, Who is that man? I didn’t know you.

And I crept down the stairs and up the stairs

To look again, and still your spade kept lifting.

Then you came in. I heard your rumbling voice

Out in the kitchen, and I don’t know why,

But I went near to see with my own eyes.

You could sit there with the stains on your shoes

Of the fresh earth from your own baby’s grave

And talk about your everyday concerns.

You had stood the spade up against the wall

Outside there in the entry, for I saw it.’

‘I shall laugh the worst laugh I ever laughed.

I’m cursed. God, if I don’t believe I’m cursed.’

‘I can repeat the very words you were saying:

“Three foggy mornings and one rainy day

Will rot the best birch fence a man can build.”

Think of it, talk like that at such a time!

What had how long it takes a birch to rot

To do with what was in the darkened parlor?

You couldn’t care! The nearest friends can go

With anyone to death, comes so far short

They might as well not try to go at all.

No, from the time when one is sick to death,

One is alone, and he dies more alone.

Friends make pretense of following to the grave,

But before one is in it, their minds are turned

And making the best of their way back to life

And living people, and things they understand.

But the world’s evil. I won’t have grief so

If I can change it. Oh, I won’t, I won’t!’

‘There, you have said it all and you feel better.

You won’t go now. You’re crying. Close the door.

The heart’s gone out of it: why keep it up.

Amy! There’s someone coming down the road!’

‘You—oh, you think the talk is all. I must go—

Somewhere out of this house. How can I make you—’

‘If—you—do!’ She was opening the door wider.

‘Where do you mean to go? First tell me that.

I’ll follow and bring you back by force. I will!—’