#Fear Of A Red Planet

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“REDS CONDUCT TWO MARTYRS TO GRAVE,” Montreal Star. April 29, 1930. Page 6. ---- Huge Demonstration Precedes Burial of Strike Agitators ---- STREETS ARE LINED --- Communist Army Out in Full Force at Port Arthur ---- PORT ARTHUR, Ont., April 29. (CP) - Determined to uphold to the last the theory that the two lumber strike agitators, Voutilaine and Resvall [sic: should be Rosvall and Voutilainen] had died martyrs to the cause. A Communist army yesterday paraded through the streets as the two bodies were borne to the cemetery.

Out in the thousands to view the eclipse of the Sun, Port Arthur residents watched the great procession move slowly through the darkened streets. Nearly 2,000 men, women and children marched, a display of Communist sentiment beyond any ever be fore seen in the two cities of Port Arthur and Fort William.

BOTH DISAPPEARED Last Fall two lumber worker organizers, sent out to organize the men in the camps for a strike, disappeared at Onion Lake. Provincial police investigated and reported they had probably met death by falling through the ice while attempting to cross the Iake against advice. The explanation was not accepted by the Reds and letters were written to the Department of Justice at both Toronto and Ottawa asking further inquiries.

This spring the bodies were found. The talk of foul play was renewed and sensational charges made public, given circulation in red-ink circulars spread about the two cities and in a Finnish paper published at Sudbury. Three surgeons instead of one as usual, attended the post-mortem examination preceding the inquest to assure those interested on the point of foul play. One was a nominee of the Communists. The Coroner's Jury found accidental death by drowning on the basis of the medical men's report. 

Yesterday the Reds paraded in strength through the streets, taking Rosvall to the cemetery, where interment was made without religious ceremony of any kind, in keeping with the cult. The army was assembled from Port Arthur, Fort William and West Fort. 

The cortege was headed by a brass band, playing funeral dirges. [AL: Very unsympathetic news report on the largest funeral in the history of what is Thunder Bay, Ontario, that repeatedly calls the Communist Party, very influential among the Finns of the Lakehead, a cult.  Rosvall and Voutilainen’s mysterious deaths were sensational stories then, and local legend held they had been murdered by thugs hired by the logging camp bosses. Read more here.]

[thebuhonerodazorrow]

Fear Of A Red Planet #4 (2023)

Aftershock

[coolcomicbookcovers]

[fantomcomics]

What’s Out This Week? 11/23

The past few years have been hard on everyone, so if we’re thankful for anything, it’s YOU, Fantomites! 

Ancient Enemies #1 (of 6) - Dan DiDio & Danilo Beyruth

Earth becomes the final battlefield for a centuries old war between two alien races.  But this final conflict becomes the unintentional breeding ground for a new generation of super powers, each with the ability to influence the outcome of the war.  Some super powers choose sides, while others struggle to maintain their independence with the hope of saving the Earth.  This series explodes with new characters and creations, written by former DC Publisher Dan DiDio, with design and art by the industry's newest rising star, Danio Beyruth.  As first issues, go, this one is not to be missed!

Fear Of A Red Planet #1 - Mark Sable, Andrea Olimpieri & Paul Azaceta

Mars.  Fifty years from now, humanity's first Martian colony is no longer self-sustaining. Under the thumb of its corporate mining overlords, the surviving colonists slave away just to pay for resupply rockets from Earth, will little or no hope of returning home.

One woman has kept a fragile peace: the U.N.'s first and only interplanetary marshal.  A lawwoman escaping a violent past on Earth, she prides herself on never having fired a shot on Mars. But when she's tasked with solving the murder of the colony's most hated man, her investigation threatens to tear the red planet apart.    

Frank Miller’s Ronin: Book II #1 (of 6) -  Frank Miller

Frank Miller returns to one of his most critically praised and influential body of works, RONIN.  Theis six-part mini-series follows the original work and takes Casey and her new born son across the ravaged landscape of America.  With layouts by Miller, the beautiful panoramic art by Philip Tan and Daniel Henriques captures all the energy and excitement of the original series, taking the characters and world into a direction all its own.  Not to be missed!

Kemono Jihen GN Vol 1 -  Sho Aimoto

Inugami is a Tokyo detective who specializes in the occult. One day, answering a call to a remote village leads him to Dorotabo: a peculiar boy nicknamed after a yokai that haunts muddy rice paddies. The boy has no parents and is somewhat unnerving, emitting a foul odor that draws the ire of those around him. Inugami, however, quickly realizes that there's something more monstrous about Dorotabo than just his nickname, a fact proven when the two of them investigate an inhuman creature attacking local livestock. Perhaps Inugami can take this mistreated boy under his wing and train him to face the secret, supernatural beasts hidden in the world... using the eerie powers of his own body.

Men I Trust HC - Tommi Parrish

Tommi Parrish's sophomore graphic novel establishes them as one of the most exciting voices in contemporary literature. Eliza is a thirtysomething struggling single mother and poet. Sasha, a twentysomething yearning for direction in life, just moved back in with her parents and dabbles as a sex worker. The two strike up an unlikely friendship that, as it veers toward something more, becomes a deeply resonant exploration of how far people are willing to go to find intimacy in a society that is increasingly closed off. In Sasha and Eliza, Parrish has created two of the most fully realized characters in recent contemporary fiction. Parrish's gorgeously painted pages showcase a graceful understanding of body language and ear for dialogue, brilliantly using the medium of comics to depict the dissonance between the characters' interior and exterior experiences. Men I Trust is about not-always-healthy people attempting to make healthy connections in a disconnected world, and is one of the most moving and insightful works of literary fiction in any medium this year.

Once Upon A Time At The End Of The World #1 -  Jason Aaron, Alexandre Tefenkgi & Mike Del Mundo

In this epic post-apocalyptic tale, Maceo and Mezzy have never met anyone like each other, and they'll need all the help they can get to survive a planet ravaged by environmental catastrophe. This epic trilogy-each issue overflowing with 30 story pages-spans a lifetime as philosophical differences tear at the threads holding Maceo and Mezzy together. Will they, and the earth beneath their feet, ultimately be torn apart? New York Times bestselling, Eisner and Harvey Award-winning, and Marvel flagship writer Jason Aaron (Thor, The Avengers, Southern Bastards) launches his most ambitious creator-owned series to date with the first of three unique artistic partners - Eisner-winning artist Alexandre Tefenkgi (The Good Asian) - to take on a vision of the end of the world that's brutal and nostalgic, whimsical and grounded... and ultimately, timeless.

Sirius GN -  Ana C. Sanchez

Dani's bright future as an elite tennis player comes to a sudden stop when, during a match, she has a heart attack. Her newly discovered condition affects not only her health, but also her relationship with her mother, as well as her career. Wanting to get away from everything, she leaves behind the big city ?- and all her problems ?-  and goes with her cousin to a little coastal village. There she meets Blanca, a girl full of life and in love with astronomy. Blanca reminds Dani that life can be beautiful, and that she can shine again like stars do.

Steam Reverie In Amber - Kuroimori

A full-color steampunk artbook & manga collection hardcover-includes all 22 Major Arcana as removable tarot cards! In a world wedged somewhere between past and future, an airship drifts gently among pillow-soft clouds. This is the Tomeship-purveyor of used books and fresh coffee across the skies. It can only be seen by those who bear the Gearform Scar on their hearts. Are you one such soul? Don't miss this beautiful release from an award-winning Japanese artist who contributed to Final Fantasy art.

Wild! Or So I Was Born To Be GN Vol 1 -  Cristian Castelo

At Westhoff High, pain is part of the curriculum... But so is math, science, and chemistry. However, Wild Rodriguez and her pint-size companions have always had one goal and one goal only as they enter freshman year: to join the the Rocket Rollers and test their mettle in the infamously violent roller derby league. Now, summer draws to an end and tryouts are here! Do they have what it takes to climb the ranks of the derby world, or will their dream just as quickly turn into a nightmare? Wild discovers that sometimes dreams involve a lot of getting kicked in the face, as well as maybe accidentally getting involved in a blood feud or two. Half roller derby, half professional wrestling, the league is filled with cussin', spittin' roughnecks like the Cult Catastrophe, earnest athletes the 8-Ball Bruisers, sick freaks Puppy & the Pound, and the elegant-but-deadly Matadors. Becoming a true legend of the derby track like her hero (and occasional helpful psychic avatar) Rosie Rozene involves a lot of physical and emotional fortitude, luckily Wild and all her friends-imaginary or otherwise-have each other's backs no matter what! 

You Like Me, Not My Daughter? GN Vol 1 - Kouta Nozomi, Tesshin Azuma & Giuniu

A beautiful mother, a pining tutor, and romantic hijinks await in this hot mom romcom! When Ayako's sister died, leaving her young daughter all alone, Ayako stepped up and took the child into her life. Now that her niece/adopted daughter is a teenager, a 30-something Ayako can sense first love in the air. Ayako teases her daughter about Takumi, their handsome and college-aged neighbor, who's been tutoring her since she was young-could they be a blossoming couple, since he's always beaming when he comes to their house? To Ayako's surprise, Takumi isn't interested in daughter dearest: he's long had a crush on Ayako herself! In this age gap romantic comedy, one young man is ready to bring a little sugar to the sexy mom next door.

Whatcha scooping up this week, Fantomites?

[graphicpolicy]

Fear of the Red Planet #4 sets up the finale but feels a little rushed overall

Fear of the Red Planet #4 sets up the finale but feels a little rushed overall #comics #comicbooks

There’s been a murder on Mars. Unfortunately for the Sheriff, it’s the most hated person on the planet. Story: Mark SableArt: Andrea OlimpieriColor: Andrea OlimpieriLetterer: Dave Sharpe Get your copy now! To find a comic shop near you, visit http://www.comicshoplocator.com or call 1-888-comicbook or digitally and online with the links below. Kindle/comiXologyZeus Comics AfterShock provided…

[smashpages]

Out this week: Fear of a Red Planet #1 (AfterShock, $4.99):

Mark Sable and Andrea Olimpieri head to Mars for the story of the U.N.’s first and only interplanetary marshal, who is tasked with solving the murder of the most hated man on the planet. 

See what other comics and graphic novels will arrive in comic shops this week.

[bryan-damage]

Mars. This is a planet, named after a Roman deity of war. To our knowledge its sole inhabitants are robots.

Deimos. This is one of the moons of Mars, named after the Greek deity of dread. It's not especially spherical but whatever.

Phobos. This is the other moon of Mars, named after the Greek god of fear and panic, and brother to Deimos. It looks like another moon got scraped up against it which is... kind of terrifying.

[neonpaperlanterns]

Addicted to this Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Not everything but Something

[Part One] [Part Two]

Felix is not patient, he never has been and after this he never will be again. But he knows that if he goes back to Charlie’s office now she will shut him out completely. So he waited and it fucking sucked. 

Did he linger in the area?

Yes.

Was he tempted to do something that would warrant a visit that she couldn't refuse? 

Yes, very much so.

But he didn’t, he was good and just stuck to some light watching. It was interesting to see how she acted when she didn’t think he was present. Or anyone for that matter. He wouldn’t say she was relaxed then again no one around here was at ease. If she was anyone else he wouldn’t care but he wanted to see her relaxed. Wanted to see her with an actual smile on her face. Wanted to see her smiling at him specifically. 

And only him. 

Felix wanted to be the reason she was happy. He needed her to feel joy when she looked at him. When she thought about him. He should be her happiness. 

Though clearly he was going about it wrong. Not sure how that happened but it did. So he needed to play the game a bit differently. He would do what he did with Kimball. Let Charlie see some of that “soft interior” Vanessa was so sure he had. It was tedious but effective. He would dare to bare his soul and if that for some unholy reason didn’t work he wasn’t sure what he would do.

He wasn’t against hurting Charlie. If all else failed he could always resort to what he knew best. But he didn’t think he would have to go that far. If she was heartless then he wouldn’t be dealing with all of this right now.

No, she cared. It was obvious she cared and he just needed to nudge her in the right direction. She would care about him without any of that annoying professionalism in the way. He would be more than just another patient. 

So Felix gave her three days. 

It was a shitty three days but for once he thought being patient might actually be a bit critical here. 

“What are you doing here?” Her greeting wasn’t much of a greeting. He knew she wouldn't be happy to see him. Still didn’t actually like seeing it though. Why did this have to be so hard? Why couldn’t she have just fallen in line like everyone else? Yet if she did act as he had expected would he be this invested?

Did it matter?

It didn’t.

Felix let out a sigh. It was heavy and he let his hands shake ever so slightly as he took off his helmet. He wouldn’t look at her as he set it down on her desk. His fingers tracing along the grooves. 

“I wanted to say I was sorry.” His voice came out thick and warbled like he was going to cry. Casting a glance at Charlie he noticed her frowning. She looked uncomfortable. Good, he wanted to make her squirm.

“You don’t-” He cut her off with a wave.

“No I do.” He swallowed around the nonexistent lump in his throat. “I was bothering you and I should have taken the hint but…” He trailed off.

“But?” Wonderful she was curious and looking at him oh so very concerned. 

“It’s nothing. I don’t have an excuse for my behavior.” He turned away from her acting as if he was going to leave. But a hand reached out and grabbed his elbow. She was tugging him back. The frown deepened on her face.

“No, if something is wrong you should tell me.” Her voice had changed. It wasn’t clipped and cold, oh she was worried. It was written all over her face. Her expression looked so vulnerable. She wanted to help him. 

He loved it.

Turning he removed her hand from his arm but didn’t let go. She didn’t pull away as he carefully interlocked his fingers with hers. His thumb traced along the faint scar lines running along the side of her hand. She was looking at him like he meant something to her. She wanted to help him, comfort him. Take away the pain she sees etched across his face. 

Felix let out a shaky sigh.

“It’s just…” He turned away again, letting her hand slowly fall from his. The noise she made was cute and it was just adorable how she reached for him. That desire to alleviate his sorrow was simply palpable.

“It’s just what?” Charlie implored, keeping him close as her wide eyes overflowed with concern.

“This war has taken so much from everyone.” He kept his eyes downcast. “And I don’t know, I guess I was lonely.” He dragged his hand down his face. “I just wanted a friend and I thought-” He cut himself off, letting his voice come out choked. 

“Oh.” He heard her sigh as her grip tightened. Sneaking a glance he noticed she wasn’t looking at him. Her mouth was turned down and was that guilt he saw?

Yes, yes it was.

“Felix, I’m sorry.” He was over the moon with how his name sounded falling from her lips. So much better than when she had rudely kicked him out. This is how she should be speaking to him. 

“No, don’t apologize. I overstepped.” It was getting harder to sound remorseful. God he just wanted her to hurry up and say that everything was okay and that she would be his. He needed to hear her say she would do anything to make it up to him.

“I mean, yeah you did.” She was gnawing at her lower lip. He resisted the urge to scoff. ‘Excuse me?’ What did she just say? He admitted that he overstepped, she didn’t need to rub it in. But she was still holding onto him and that look of guilt hadn’t left. So he swallowed down the irritation. He was so close, he just knew he was. 

“But it’s alright or well it’s not but I forgive you.” She was speaking quickly, her fingers tapped against his wrist.

“And if you ever need to stop by for medical or non-medical care, my office is always open.” The faintest hint of a smile spread across her face. He blinked slowly. This is not what he expected. She wasn’t throwing himself at his feet and promising him the world. She wasn’t even telling him anything special. Her office was always open. It already was. 

“Thank you,” He paused, watching her face carefully. He wasn’t getting what he wanted but he should at least get one thing.

“Charlie.” That ghost of a smile turned into a real one. It was bright and it was all for him.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"IF YOU WERE AN ordinary person living in Canada in the winter of 1918– 19, you might well have thought that the world was coming down around your ears.

World War I had ended at 11 a.m. on Monday, November 11, 1918. Word of the armistice reached Canada in the early hours of the morning. As people heard of it, they spilled from their houses into the streets, some of them still in their pyjamas and nightgowns, congregating on street corners to toast the peace. After more than four years of war, there was a passion to celebrate. In Toronto, a pre-dawn procession of munitions workers, mainly women, paraded down Yonge Street, beating on pots and pans and blowing whistles. Towns and cities erupted in a noisy jubilee: sirens began wailing, factory whistles blew, church bells rang. Bonfires crackled on street corners and fireworks exploded. In the prairies, haystacks burned brightly in the fields. When daybreak came, work was forgotten as downtown thoroughfares filled with celebrants. Effigies of the German Kaiser were strung up and set ablaze. Civic officials hastily organized victory parades where Canadians expressed their relief that the war was finally over. Churches held special services of thanksgiving. The acting prime minister, William Thomas White (Prime Minister Robert Borden was already in England preparing for peace talks), dashed off a telegram to Arthur Currie, commander of the Canadian forces, commending their “courage, endurance, heroism and fortitude.”

But the euphoria did not last for long. Once the hangover of celebration wore off, Canadians woke up to the realization that there was no peace. Instead, everywhere in the world there seemed to be violence and turmoil: revolution in Germany and Hungary; civil war in Russia; uprisings in China and India; war in Afghanistan; general strikes in major cities across the United States. It was the Bolsheviks, people said; they seemed to be everywhere, overturning governments, seizing private property, and imposing their radical ideas. For some, these foreign “Reds” represented hope for a more just society; for others, they were a dangerous evil let loose to prey upon mankind.

If unrest was the rule around the world, why not in Canada? The war had left many Canadians disappointed and anxious about the future. The cost of living had been rising at three times the pace of wages. Working people found themselves poorer off than before the conflict began. As demobilized veterans returned home looking for jobs, a looming unemployment crisis threatened the economy. Returning soldiers were angry to find recent immigrants and people who had not put their lives at risk during the war occupying positions that they thought should belong to themselves.Conscription had opened an ugly division between French and English Canada. Under Borden’s Conservative government, political life seemed to have achieved unprecedented levels of corruption. The government and the press were engaged in a full-blown panic about the threat to the Canadian way of life posed by foreign agitators and labour radicals. Professor O.D. Skelton wrote in the Queen’s Quarterly:

The strain of war has produced a reckless and desperate temper. The world cannot be torn up by the roots for five years without destroying much of the old stability and acquiescence in the established order.

Canadians wondered what the war had been all about if the result was so much uncertainty, so much turmoil. They were proud of their country’s contribution to the conflict, but unsure about how to make it count for something. Surely more than 60,000 young Canadians had not given their lives just to preserve the status quo. The sacrifice seemed to demand a better way of doing things. A thirst for significant change cut across all stratas of society, from factory workers to farmers, from church ministers to returned soldiers to politicians. The federal cabinet minister Newton Rowell summed it up:

We cannot go back to old conditions, if we would, and we ought not to, even if we could.

But there was little agreement about what a new, improved Canada might look like. At a conference on reconstruction organized by the federal government in Ottawa, business leaders revealed their suspicion of even the most basic reforms, preferring instead a return to “normalcy,” by which they meant the way things had always been. That was the conservative, go-slow approach to post-war policy making: change if necessary but not necessarily change. What was the point of winning the war against Kaiserism, they wondered, if it led to Red revolution at home? More assertive voices for change emanated from the Protestant churches, which before the war had organized the Social Service Council to advocate for progressive social reform. The Council threw its support behind “industrial democracy” and a wide-ranging set of social welfare policies, including mothers’ allowances, unemployment insurance, and old-age pensions. The Methodists went farther still, calling for “nothing less than a complete social reconstruction” of postwar Canada.

Yet even this clarion call did not go far enough for political activists in the labour movement and the various socialist parties. They adopted the rhetoric of world revolution. Nothing would satisfy these radicals short of an overhaul of the structure of economic ownership in the country. “Are we in favour of a bloody revolution?” asked Calgary labour organizer Jean MacWilliams, appearing before a government commission in the spring of 1919. “Why any kind of revolution would be better than conditions as they are now.” In other words, what was the point of winning the war in Europe if it did not lead to revolution at home?"

- Daniel Francis, Seeing Reds: the Red Scare of 1918-1919, Canada’s First War on Terror. Arsenal Pulp Press, 2011. p. 9-12.

[thebuhonerodazorrow]

Fear Of A Red Planet #4 (2023)

Aftershock

[nabtime]

Better Watch Out

Danny had just started to feel like he was settling in with the Waynes. It had been... not ideal circumstances that brought him to the family in the first place, so getting used to not having to deal with all that mess was the first hurdle. The second being getting used to dealing with an entirely new- if more pleasant, mess. The Waynes, and Gotham by extension, were- to put it lightly- fucking crazy. He wasn't in Amity anymore and however much he'd thought it was the weirdest place on the planet before- he was absolutely rethinking that now. Where he had been one hero against a handful of villains, Gotham had a whole brigade of vigilantes against an army of villains. And they were... Bat-themed. For the most part. He'd yet to meet any of them, so he hadn't gotten the chance to ask what all that was about.

None of that was the point though. The point was that Danny had only recently stopped feeling like a fish out of water around his new foster family, and now the Holidays were coming. The Holidays that always served to put him in a sour mood. The Holidays that made him more prone to lash out and snap at those that didn't deserve it. The Holidays that, despite being Jewish by heritage, Bruce seemed oddly enthusiastic about celebrating.

(It reminded him, painfully, of Sam. He'd yet to be able to see here since everything went down and he missed her and Tucker something fierce. Which was maybe also putting him in a bad mood.)

So you really couldn't blame him for feeling a little tense about the whole situation. Not only were the Christmas decorations that smothered the Manor making him grouchy, but his grouchiness was also making a guilty pit form in his stomach. He was a moody teenager and adding trauma on top of that didn't help how caustic he could be- and adding fear on top of that made it all the worse. What if he saw Dick in his Santa hat, grinning and innocent, and he snapped? What if he saw Damian, stoic but loving, give Titus a shiny red bow-tie collar for the season and he made a caustic comment that went too far? What if he saw Bruce so much as smile at him while standing near the giant tree in the foyer and he saw green?

What if he ruined Christmas? Again? For people that didn't deserve it? Again? What if he hurt the people he cared about that had only ever shown him care and consideration? Again?

So Danny was just a bit tense. A bit on edge. And he was trying. Oh Ancients was he trying. To not be such a little bitch about all the Christmas stuff. But he had a limit. Bruce, being the rich socialite that seemed far too enthusiastic about family-centered holidays, did not have a limit. Every inch of the manor was covered in tinsel and holly and blinking lights and fake snow. Every spare moment was filled with different siblings being coerced into doing cheesy holiday activities, with Danny being the only one to attend every single one of them. (Cutting down a Christmas tree with Jason. Buying presents at the mall with Tim. Decorating while hanging from the chandelier with Dick. Caroling very badly with Stephanie. Making snow angels with Cass. Watching Christmas movies with Duke.) And he attended them all with a barely restrained snarl and a badly bitten tongue. The one time, one time, he'd told Bruce no- the guilt had eaten him alive (and dead) at seeing the man melt into the most pathetic kicked-puppy look he'd ever seen.

No grown man should ever be able to do that with his face. Danny never wanted to see that again.

In return, though, he had to face the Horrors.

The latest Horror being the worst he'd ever faced to date. A Horror that he thought he'd never have to face. He thought he'd slipped past this particular one by aging out. He was too old for this. He shouldn't be there. Damian, scowling and eyes filled with murderous intent, shouldn't be there. Dick and Bruce seemed to both be having the time of their lives. It was far too disturbing- and the continuous blasting of Christmas music and the overheated crush of a restless crowd only made it worse.

They were in line to see Santa at the mall.

It made his skin crawl. He was fifteen! Damian, the poor bastard, was also fifteen!

He could practically feel Ghostwriter laughing his ass off at his predicament. This was worse than getting stuck in a rhyming Christmas cautionary tale. He would 100% rather be stuck in one of Ghostwriter's cheesy poems than be stuck in the stupidly long line to see the fake mall Santa that probably didn't want to be there just as much as Danny.

But Bruce looked so fucking happy. Genuinely happy.

It was something he'd noticed early on about his foster dad. He smiled a lot and smiled big, but he rarely ever meant it. Now, Danny wasn't usually one to notice things like that. He got pretty wrapped up in his own problems and just- didn't have the skill to notice these things. Usually. But, well, being ghostly gave him a bit of an advantage. He could get a pretty good read on a person's emotions, regardless of what expression they wore. If he felt close enough to them. Frostbite had compared it to, like, family pack bonding. And he really, really didn't want to think about that further (why had it never worked for his parents? why did he feel so close to Bruce so quickly? why?) But, more importantly, he could tell that while Bruce smiled a lot, he rarely meant it.

But whenever Danny or his foster sibling begrudgingly participated in "family holiday activities" he smiled and he meant it. Bruce, fundamentally, was a sad man. Always grieving something. But here and now? In line to see his teenage children visit fucking Santa in the mall? He was smiling from ear to ear and his emotions, for once, matched. Yeah, there was a hint of mischief there, but it was overwhelmed by the giddy joy and excitement.

A suspicious amount of excitement... Like he was expecting something.

And then Bruce was leaning down between him and Damian and with a bright grin, he muttered, "I have a surprise for the both of you."

And even Dick, who had not stopped taking a stupid amount of pictures the entire time, paused to look at Bruce curiously.

"As I've told you both before," he said, looking over at Dick and back to Damian, "I know the real Santa. Met him a few times, saved Christmas with him a few others, and he owed me a favor for the last misadventure we had. So, I asked him to be here, for this one afternoon, for you guys."

Danny barely caught a glimpse of Dick rolling his eyes in the background. Oh, okay, so this was bullshit that has long been established. Nothing new on his account. That was something at least.

"Father," Damian interrupted with scorn and a promise of violence in his voice, "you are aware that this- Santa Claus creature- is fictitious, are you not?"

"Damian, chum," Bruce responded carefully, sincerely saddened, "why would you say that about an old family friend?"

And, poor Damian, looked two parts baffled and three parts murderous. Nonplussed and unable to even fathom a response to his father. He just stared the man down.

Dick huffed in exasperation behind them. "C'mon, B. Will you let that go already?"

Bruce furrowed his brows, eyes already taking on that faint sheen of kicked-puppiness, and looked back up at his eldest. "You don't believe me, Dickie? After all these years?"

Dick responded with a flat stare. Danny kind of wished he had popcorn for this moment. It was like witnessing a mild car crash. Nobody got hurt and it was still wicked to see parts flying everywhere. There was even a chance of things catching fire. Man was he glad he could just watch.

"Danny?" Bruce pleaded, turning to him with those sad, sad eyes. "Do you believe me, chum?"

And fuck how was he supposed to respond to that?

"I have it on good authority," he said, thinking of yearly fight, after fight, after fight, "that his existence is very hotly debated in the scientific community."

He could feel the questioning stares from Damian and Dick but he refused to look away from the innocently tilted head of his unfortunate foster father.

"Is that a yes?" and he sounded so sincerely hopeful. He couldn't crush the man's spirit. He couldn't.

But he also refused to lie and say he believed in Santa. At fifteen.

He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth, but eventually replied. "It's a hotly debated topic."

And Bruce just smiled that empty smile and patted his shoulder. "Thanks, chum."

He, again, ignored Damian and Dick's stares. If he looked at them, he'd break. If he so much as made partial eye-contact, he was gonna fucking lose it.

"Oh look! We're almost at the front!"

Danny was living his worst life. Officially. This was the bad time-line. Dan's future didn't even come close. He was going to go mega evil any second now and kill everyone in the vicinity and then himself. This wasn't happening and it wasn't real and Santa Claus can't hurt him because he isn't real.

But Bruce, the saddest man in history, utterly and sincerely believed that he was.

So Danny was going to sit on some random old dude's lap and pretend to care about what he wanted for Christmas and whether or not he'd been a good boy this year and he was going to force a smile the entire time and his soul might shrivel up and die all the way inside, but at least Bruce would be happy.

What the fuck kind of afterlife was he living.

And then it was their turn and Danny was forced to go up first because the alternative was Damian committing homicide in the middle of the mall while Dick and Bruce cheerily took pictures.

Okay. Just sit down. Spit out answers to any inane questions. Pose for picture. And leave. Simple and easy and completely unbearable. But- for Bruce- he would bear it.

But, damn it all, a chill went down his spine as he approached.

No. Absolutely not.

There was no way. But he examined the man sitting in the chair and the more he saw the more the sinking pit in his stomach grew. Full thick beard of snow white hair. Brown eyes filled with smug mischief and magnanimity. Thick red velvet jacket made for trapping in heat in extreme cold weather, lined with white fur that looked suspiciously close to trim on cloaks he'd seen in the Far Frozen. A not-quite-ghostly-not-quite-magic-but-something-in-between aura he often got around Gods and Ancients.

Fuck, but Bruce actually knew the real bonafide Santa Fucking Claus.

What, and he means this with a great amount of emotion, the fuck.

He sat down in a stupor and the man just placidly smiled at him, a twinkle in his eye letting him know that he knew Danny was currently experiencing new stages of grief not yet known to man and was just gonna let him ride it out. How nice of him. Because of course he was being nice. He was Santa.

Fuck.

He looked up at the man. Ghost. God. Whatever. And for a good moment that's all either of them did. Just. Stared.

Sorry, Santa, Danny's brain has suddenly gone on vacation. 404 not found. Please leave a message after the tone. Error. Sorry, there's nothing there. Please try again.

After a few agonizing moments he asked, "how? Do you know Bruce?"

And Santa laughed at him, the sound working its way into his bones and filling him with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time. It tasted just a bit like egg nog. Gross.

"Well," the man started, voice deep and rich like a good cup of hot chocolate, (whatthefuckwhathtefuck). "Why wouldn't I know a man like Bruce? Honorable, righteous, and very skilled. One of the best the Justice League has, if I'm being honest."

And then Danny's brain stopped completely. Because there was no fucking way Santa (FUCK) was implying what he thought he was implying.

But it all made so much sense now. His ears were ringing suddenly and the world was greying out but he was Seeing the Light.

"-nny?" Santa (FUCK!!) was saying. "Are you alright? Want to tell me what you want for Christmas now?"

"Hm," he said airily, still not all the way there, "I'm good, thanks."

And then he slid off the man's lap and walked back to his foster family in a daze. And he looked at Bruce (BATMAN!! FUCK!!!) and he slid a slow hand down his face, attempting to take the skin off it in the process.

"You alright, Danny man?" Dick asked, only half paying attention while he gleefully snapped pictures of a sullen Damian barely restraining himself from committing violence while stubbornly standing next to Santa instead of sitting on his lap.

"That's the real Santa, Bruce is Batman, and I'm half-dead," he replied bluntly.

Dick fumbled his phone in response and Bruce merely raised his eyebrows.

"That's an odd start to a 'three guys walk into a bar' joke there, chum," he said amiably. And Danny wouldn't have noticed the tension in his voice if he weren't ghostly. But he was and unfortunately for them all, it was now everyone's problem.

"Not a joke," he said. "I'll explain the dead part later but Santa outed you on accident."

"Okay, no," Dick interrupted, "we are not leaving the dead part for later, Danny, what the fuck."

"Listen," he said flatly, slapping his hands on either side of Dick's face and smooshing it to convey his seriousness while he spoke. "Santa is real, he's a God, and he's sitting right there." He emphasized with a sweeping wave of his arm in the direction Damian was stomping back towards them from. "We're leaving the dead part for later."

"What is all this about? Dead part? What is going on?" Damian demanded in rapid succession, growing more aggressive and persistent with each question.

Danny, already on his last fucking nerve, was gonna lose it. For real.

"Apparently," Dick drawled, disbelief and an unfair amount of derision in his tone, "that's the real Santa, he told Danny B was Batman, and Danny's now saying he's dead."

"What-"

Damian did not get to finish his sentence because that was the exact moment Danny finally snapped. Every bit of pent up tension and hostility, every bit of restrained Holiday fueled fury he'd been bottling up. Unleashed all at once because Dick decided to be an asshole about not believing him.

Danny snatched one of the giant plastic candy canes that lined the aisle of the queue to see Mall (but actually Real) Santa and gave a good swing in Dick's direction. Dick who had unfairly good reflexes and was able to dodge by jumping over the swing and landing back neatly on his feat.

"Danny?!" he cried, incredulous.

But Danny was no longer listening. Only reveling in the wild swinging of the candy cane and attempting to land a hit on Dick for being an absolute dick and finally unleashing hell upon the world and specifically his asshole foster brother. And maybe he put a little bit more ghostly strength in his last swing than he meant to, because when he finally made contact- he heard a pained off as Dick went down hard.

"Danny, please," he wheezed from the soft bank of fake snow he'd fallen into, "it's Christmas."

He screeched and continued his assault. "It's December 10th!"

And then, promptly; Bruce wrangled the candy cane from Danny's grasp, Damian pulled Dick from the floor, and they were all calmly escorted from the mall and asked politely to never return.

Danny really, truly, hated Christmas. And it looked like that wasn't going to change any time soon.

[satoruluvies]

standing on tiptoes.

୨୧ summary. just as what the title suggests, you get on your tip toes to give satoru a kiss! gojo is completely lovesick and down bad, early stage in the relationship. its gojo's first too °u°

୨୧ desc. sweet sweet tooth rotting fluff because we all need this. 0.7k words from me to you beloved <3

satoru thinks life has been gracious to him lately and he can't pinpoint what he did exactly to deserve this but he hopes he keeps doing whatever it is because he wants you around a long, long time.

satoru wouldn’t call himself a sentimental person but he can't help the soft feeling that pools in his stomach and spread through his chest when you look at him with your oh so mesmerising eyes.

even now, walking back home after a long day with both your hands intertwined and the gradient of the sunset painting the sky, his gaze still shifts to you in small glimpses, red spreading his pretty cheeks all the way to his ears.

“so i was absolutely… toru? are you listening?” satoru swears he was, he was listening to your voice so soothing to him that he forgot to comprehend the words that it formed.

“sorry, what was that again?” his hand found the back of his head sheepishly.

“is everything okay? something on your mind?” a worried expression finds itself on your face and satoru's eyes can't help but dart to your lips that were slightly pouting in confusion, a habit he notices you have.

“y-yeah… yeah no, everything's fine” he forces his gaze to look into your eyes but he couldn't help another glimpse at your soft lips, thoughts of kissing you clouding his mind.

would it be weird if he asked to kiss? are you supposed to ask? how early can you kiss someone in a relationship? would he be good at it?

satoru hadn't realised he was so obvious with his thoughts until he heard you giggle and if he thinks he can't get any more redder than he already is, he was wrong.

“are you sure?” your tone was clearly evident that you were teasing him and the way your head tilts to meet his wandering gaze sends his heart into a frenzy of thumps that he fears were loud enough for you to hear.

“yeah sure, very sure” satoru looks at everywhere but at you because he thinks he would either combust across the next planet or melt on the spot, he wasn't sure but something embarrassing would happen. that, he was sure.

what he didn't expect was instead of teasing him more, you closed the little distance that separated the both of you and slowly rised on your tiptoes, eyes focused on his soft lips. your right hand that were still intertwined with his left, stayed as they are while he waits for the contact of both your lips that never comes.

“help me out a lil won't you?” you chuckle. it wasn't your fault you still couldn't reach his lips even when you're on your tip toes, why did he have to be so tall anyway?

satoru chuckles back as he gets overcome with a sense of confidence at your own blushing cheeks. he leans down and wastes no time to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

your face crinkles in disappointment at the ghost of a peck on your lips and satoru thinks he accomplished the greatest thing ever knowing you wanted more of him.

he realises he would give you the world if you so ever asked. his hand find its way to caress your cheeks softly, completely lost in your eyes and hopelessly so in love.

he leans in and closes the infinity between the both of you, finally finally having a taste of your lips. it was as perfect as he imagined it to be, if not more.

he follows after your lips as you pull away, a soft whine leaving his plump lips you just kissed and you would have kissed him again if you weren't in public doing this.

“i think we've garnered enough stares and annoyed remarks” you laugh, he does too.

“hm i wonder where we can do this without any of that” satoru teases earning another chuckle from you. he thinks he can keep hearing it on repeat for the rest of his life.

“i don't know, you tell me” you shrug as you pull him by your hands that he realised haven't left his, it was so natural. everything was so natural with you.

in the comfort of your home, you in his arms and giving him all the kisses he could ever ask for, satoru thinks he's the happiest man in the world, even as far as the galaxy and expanding even further.

[graphicpolicy]

Graphic Policy’s Top Comic Picks this Week!

Graphic Policy’s Top Comic Picks this Week! 16 new comics to check out this week! #comics #comicbooks

Wednesdays (and Tuesdays) are new comic book day! Each week hundreds of comics are released, and that can be pretty daunting to go over and choose what to buy. That’s where we come in Each week our contributors choose what they can’t wait to read this week or just sounds interesting. In other words, this is what we’re looking forward to and think you should be taking a look at! Find out what…

[skyscrapergods]

do ponies ever give gifts or make sacrifices to the alicorns?

or did they use to do that and they just were like “stop it it doesn’t do anything”

Gods are powered by belief in them, and their powers are linked to what exactly those beliefs are.

The Sun was long regarded as sublime and benevolent. And she was, as long as she remembered to care about ponies. But as she towered above them, she often forgot to think about mortals while she thought about the planet as a whole, ecosystems and the heavens. Fearing they would be forgotten, the population turned to more and more desperate rituals to command her attention and favor.

Celebrations to her name did more than summon her; they gave her power. Summer sun parties, gift giving, and community feasts caused the nourishing warmth of sunlight. Hospitals erected in her name lent healing touch to the mind in the morning rays. The grander the festival, the more attention The Sun paid. You would surely be blessed with long days and beautiful sunsets as thanks for the artisans crafting stained glass windows for her churches.

Not every pony was happy with happiness. They wanted more. With greater gifts and more breathtaking rituals, surely they could turn her favor toward them and command her aid in matters of war.

The sacrifices began.

They got what they wanted, in the end. The Sun turned her attention on their alters stained with blood and pools running red.

She was not pleased with this new form of worship. She was not pleased with the powers it weaved into her feathers, with the new nature of her lifegiving light.

She smote them all.

In the reeling black of burning villages, she wondered what she had done. She could not wash their stain from her essence. Her act of wrath had cemented their violence into her very being.

Now the sunlight shriveled, it seared, it dried and droughted. To the creatures she loved so much, it caused burns and other illnesses of the flank. She had become one with fire.

The harshness of her love never faded. Society had to adapt. Agriculture now required levies and aqueducts to irrigate the fields and keep the plants from burning. Shade needed to be brought to outdoor events. Flighted ponies created blankets in the sky to give relief from the punishing radiation.

Today, all of this seems normal. Of course the sun burns, that's how it's always been. It seems like such an inevitable part of life that it's hard to remember we caused it.

But we must remember. We must remember to never go there again. We must keep our worship kind, and remember that pain is not holy. Suffering is not divine. Death begets death and fear begets fear. Do not hurt each other for the sake of your god, and do not hurt yourselves.

She doesn't like it.

[celesteleoves]

“BACK OFF AND LOOK AWAY.”

ೃ࿐ KATSUKI BAKUGOU X FEM!READER

summary: katsuki HATES when others attempt to ask you out on a date, unless they are himself.

warnings: jealously, protective katsuki, soft!reader, you’re pretty it’s hard for people not to stare! fluff.

a/n: i love me some jealously drabbles. TYSM FOR 300 FOLLOWERS 🤍

-

no matter how many years katsuki had known you for, he would never be able to get over the suffocating beauty you held, you yourself sometimes didn’t even understand it.

it was in katsukis nature to be protective of those he loved. he was known for his high guard he held around those who he was not fond of, often coming off as intimidating and standoffish. you on the other hand, meant way more to him than anyone else on the planet. (besides his mom, of course)

he simply just could not stand it when someone’s stare lingered on you for too long or a group of childish boys giggled too hard at the sight of you.

with katsukis angry, looming figure beside you, not many dared to come up to you in fear of people crushed to shreds by bakugou katsuki.

today had been different apparently. a boy, around katsukis height (maybe even shorter) had walked up to you at a cafe you and katsuki were frequent customers at.

you sat at your table alone, waiting patiently for your boyfriend who was a bit late to the cafe due to his mother wanting him to help clean up her kitchen, which he groaned about while on the phone with you.

your eyes were focused intently on your phone as you laughed quietly at a post mina had made. it was you and katsuki sitting in the U.A. dorms snuggly on the couch as she captioned it ‘grumpy stole my sunshine.’

your attention was swiftly brought away from your phone as a cough was heard from above you, looking up, you caught eyes with a boy who seemed to look nervous. his eyes were dark and he had a backwards hat on. basically, he looked like a fuckboy.

“hey! um, i was wondering if i could get your number.” he nervously scratched his neck as he turned around slightly. you furrowed your brows and followed his gaze, finding a group of boys sitting in a booth close by, phones out on display as they laughed.

you smiled, “i’m sorry but i’m actually waiting for someone.”

your tone was polite and endearing, hoping to not come off as rude or to embarrass the boy.

your boyfriend, who had been parking while this went on thought otherwise. he was ready to make a scene.

“come on, just let me get your number yeah? the person your waiting for isn’t worth it obviously if they aren’t here on time.” the boy had now leaned over you, practically climbing his way to sit beside you.

you looked at him like he had two heads and he immediately stiffened up.

the boys ears had turned red from embarrassment of being rejected by you – who sat uncomfortably in your seat.

“he is worth it, he’s just running late-” you had barely gotten your sentence out of your mouth when the boy was pulled away from you by his collar and a figure had casted a shadow over you.

“i’m fucking here, who’s this douchebag?” katsuki paused and raised a eyebrow. “let’s keep this civilized, yeah?”

katsuki turned the boy to face him with a scowl as the boy slowly realized you were in a relationship.

“shit, i didn’t realize.” the boy had pulled katsuki’s hand off of him and was starting to back up before katsuki took a step towards him.

“sure, back off and look away from my girlfriend. tell your little group that too.”

the boy nodded and jogged back to his friends that sat in their booth, jaws dropped.

“kats! i’m sorry i should’ve just toughened up like you told me too and rejected him more bluntly..” you sighed as you rethought the whole situation.

katsuki took a seat infront of you and let his expression become soft as he stared into your eyes.

“nah, don’t apologize, y/n. let’s just forget about this and talk about how good you look right now.” katsuki smirked at the end of his sentence as you blushed and laughed while reaching forward grabbing his rough, scarred hand that squeezed yours back tightly.

you knew you could always rely on katsuki.

-

a/n: heyy. it’s been a while, around like what? a month or so since i last posted :’) IVE BEEN SO BUSY WITH SPORTS, SCHOOL, ETC! i’m back though and will probably write on the weekends because why not? please send in requests for mha (cough cough, my hun bakugou and more!)

[radiofauxshow]

Radio Faux Show Volume 2, Number 37 (October 9, 2022): The National Recording Registry Part Three (Personal Top 25)

Radio Faux Show Volume 2, Number 37 (October 9, 2022): The National Recording Registry Part Three (Personal Top 25)

This Week’s Theme: The National Recording Registry Part Three (Personal Top 25) This week’s show is Part Three of a four-part series on the National Recording Registry. The first two parts focused on selections in the Registry from before 1955 and from 1955 to the present. This week’s show presents songs from my personal Top 25 albums in the Registry. Welcome to Radio Faux Show volume two,…