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juniaships · 4 years

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Vanessa Marble-Whittaker Bio **redux**

I had to delete the old post due to spelling mistakes and to add more info, but here is the official character bio for my AIO OC....possibly the only one in existence 😅 Contains spoilers and subject matter of abuse & postpartum depression; if you're curious you might have to do look into the main story arcs of AIO for easier understanding.

Full Name: Vanessa Crystal Marble Whittaker (nee Marble;)

Age: Unspecified but around late 20s to mid 30s

Birthday: May 15th

Race: African American (with European ancestry on both sides)

Fandom: Adventures in Odyssey

Voice Claim: Cree Summer; Vivica A. Fox is also a good alternate

Character Role: Heroine & love interest/spouse of Jason Whittaker

Items: Cross necklace, Midnight Manor (formerly Blackgaard's Castle)

Relationships

Family: Robienne Marble (mother), Regis Blackgaard (father), Edwin Blackgaard (uncle), Jerry Jr. (son, infant), John Whittaker (father in law), Monty (nephew in law), Jana (sister in Law)

Friends at Whit's End: Whit, Eugene, Connie, Katrina, Angel (pet doberman)

Acquaintances: Nuns, denizens of Odyssey

Love Interest: Her primary love interest and eventual husband is Jason Whittaker. They began as tensse & awkward relationship during the Blackgaard Saga duento their contrasting personalities, before becoming close friends and allies. They do not become completely official until after Novacom. Their relationship is regarded as the bonafide example of "Opposites Attract" in Odyssey.

Enemies: While enemies are far and few, she considers her own father as the major obstacle between her and a peaceful life. She was a major player against Novacom. She had a brief yey tense rivalry with Monica Stone (partly for Jason's affections) but the two made peace at the end.

Appearance

- Average height (say, 5'7)

-Brown skin, light brown eyes, and wavy-curly black hair

-Has an average body type (pear shaped) and seemed to gain a few pounds since giving birth

-Typically were darker shades of purple, blue, with the occasional maroon

-Sense of fashion is put together, professional even if casual

- Still has her nun fatigues

Personality

Vanessa is a composed and reserved lady with a deep connection to God, while respecting other religions (and non religious). While seen as a cold person at first glance, she is actually very kind and open-minded, though she isn't immune to making sardonic comments once in a while. While not really great around kids, she has moments of being supportive. After becoming a mother she is rather clueless, though well-meaning and tries her hardest to be the parent her father wasn't.

One of her biggest obstacle is overcoming her aloof demeanor. She needed to learn to open up to others and to out faith in her new friends. Even now she still has her moments of keeping her true emotions, though she has a wide circle of friends and a spouse to talk to. Vanessa was also ashamed of her Blackgaard blood, though she learns to come to terms with her past in order to create a brighter future for herself and the rest of her family. Sometimes she is prone to feeling inadequate and jealous, especially during brief periods of romantic rivalry.

There is a fierce protective side that comes out when loved ones are threatened, as seen with the Blackgaard and Novacom Sagas. She dislikes staying on the sidelines and does whatever she can to help out. She even broke her vows to protect her mother Robienne when Regis came into town, and later inspired her uncle Edwin to stay and fight her father to help save Odyssey.

While studious snd intelligent, Vanessa is not very tech savvy, naturally preferring traditional mediums such as writing letters and books. While she learns how to use computers and cellphones, don't expect her to be a technophile anytime soon. She expresses curiosity and concerns over the next invention hubby makes.

Abilities

Vanessa can memorize a lot a bible verses which she uses as prayer, or as a quip. She also has taken self defense classes to hold her her own.

- Strengths: In her early years she proved to be surprisingly strong and fast when need be. She can adapt to certain situations and keep her cool. Clever and resourceful, Vanessa often thinks and plans her actions. She can speak three languages (Spanish, French, and Mandarin Chinese) and plans om studying more.

- Weaknesses: After pregnancy she isn't as physically strong and has to limit herself to recover, and can be overpowered by much stronger foes. Vanessa is not very good at advanced technology, and she is a bad cook (Jason keeps her away from the stove as much as possible).

Backstory Vanessa was the only child of Regis and Robienne Blackgaard. Their marriage had be a short and rocky one marred by neglect, emotional manipulation and mental abuse. Finally, on the guidance of Edwin (Regis's brother) Robienne decided she had enough and divorced Regis when Vanessa was two years old. Robienne moved her daughter to New England to be with family, and the two lived peacefully after that. After graduating high school, Vanessa went to the nunnery and stayed there for a few years, while Robienne moved to the Midwest to pursue a career in teaching.

However Vanessa soon grew discontent, feeling as though she was missing out on normal young adult life. Should she stay as a nun or forge her own path?

She would find clues to her answer in the form of receiving news about her father moving to Odyssey - the same town her mother lived. Fearing for her mother's life, Vanessa requested a temporary break in vows, family business, she had said. Settling in Odyssey (under the surname Newman) she got a job working at Whit's End and as a private tutor.

Following major and minor events including the Blackgaard, Novacom, and Green Ring Conspiracy drama, Jason proposed to Vanessa, and they had a summer wedding (but not before overcoming premarital jitters and a threat from Jason's past). Two years after their union (or as of current Odyssey storyline) they had a little boy named Jerry Jr. (named after Jason's deceased brother). Vanessa continues to work at Whit's End as a curator and artist.

Major Storylines: If she was canon she would've been a major player in some of Odyssey's biggest stories including:

- Blackgaard Saga: Her debut, she came to town to take care of her mother & to confront her father on troubled past. She was hired to work at Whit's End where she met then-owner Jack Allen & the previous owner's son Jason for the first time. The townsfolk were.mesmerized by the seemingly mysterious woman and rumors started to abound. Near the climax, Vanessa revealed to Connie and Eugene that came to Odyssey to protect her mother from Regis. Towards the end of the saga, she, her uncle Edwin, and a few townsfolk helped to set up a trap for her father to save Odyssey.

Novacom Saga: She was a big player in taking down Novacom, using her skills writing letters to raise awareness on Novacom's shady actions. This is where her rivalry with Monica Stone began as Vanessa feelings for Jason turn romantic. After Novacom, she would be involved in more stories.

Green Ring Conspiracy: Following Jason's supposed "death" she briefly left Odyssey in mourning. Her uncle and mother managed to convince her to come back to Odyssey. She was unaware of Jason's secret of being alive and working as the Stiletto, and had several encounters with the Stiletto where the mysterious man left her roses and notes of endearment. The two would later reunite after Jason retuned to town, but Vanessa was angry with him for keeping secrets from her. After a long time (and counsel from Whit) she forgave him, and the two reconciled with the promise of being more open with each other.

Courtship Of Jason & Vanessa: An original storyline where the romance between her and Jason comes full circle, leading to their engagement! If only they could overcome personal inhibitions, a hateful doberman, past rivals and a threat from Jason's spy work!

Junior's Birth & Beyond: A couple of years into their marriage Vanessa became pregnant. She was anxious over multiple scenarios, her growing appetite and mood swings. After her son was born she developed symptoms of postpartum depression and sought medications and therapy. Slowly but surely, her mental health improved, & her anxieties faded away. As of now she has gotten involved with the current Rydell Saga.

Trivia

Vanessa won several awards for her artwork and has them on display everywhere in Odyssey

She is one of my most complex characters, but also one starting to really grow on me mostly out of nostalgia for the series

- Characters that inspired Vanessa's creation are Megara (Disney Hercules), Rei/Sailor Mars (Sailor Moon), Esther (biblical stories), Tzipporah (biblical stories esp. Dreamworks The King of Egypt), Talia Al Ghul, and Elisa Maza (Gargoyles). Other inspos include Maria Von Trapp and Marian Ravenwood.

- Vanessa was made to have a unique female character to contrast Connie and Katrina. Also because I have a soft spot for the Forbidden Love trope (if done right).

- She is the only main character OC of mine that is explicitly religious. She was Catholic and while she converted to Protestant, she still holds on to Catholic values. She is also the only main OC to be a parent as of current.

- Vanessa still visits her old nunnery when she and Jason goes to New England.

- She has bouts of postpartum depression, and takes medication to regulate.

- Her favorite things are the color blue, making her own pigments, and coffee flavored ice cream

Quotes

"Blackgaard already made our lives miserable uncle Edwin! If you leave now you're only giving him more power! You helped mama and I so many times, so it's my turn to return the favor!"

"Connie I'm a nun not a miracle worker."

"If my mother superior saw what I'm doing right now I would've had an early meeting with the Lord!"

"No more secrets. From now on it's just truth and nothing but the truth. Except for my age, don't ask me how old I am."

"Sheesh with all these buttons I'm surprised we didn't destroy Odyssey yet!"

"Jason I know you're worried about the baby but did you have to baby proof the doghouse too?"

"My little Angel! Who's a good girl? Who's a good girl!"

"I can't believe I can still wear this after all these years!?"

"Jason Whittaker you have got to be the most stubborn, reckless, foolhardy man I have ever met, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You call it junk I call it avant garde."

"I'm not responsible for my father's sins but I am responsible for mine. But my mother and uncle are in trouble. If not for me then please, do it for them!"

"She doesn't hate you Jason, she hates everyone equally."

"I guess God had a plan in store for me after all. I would've never met such wonderful people."

"Are you going to keep talking or should I start the kissing?"

Pictures

I haven't drawn any references for her yet, so that's going to be on a separate post

#adventures in odyssey #aio radio #blackgaard saga #novacom saga #green ring conspiracy #canon x oc #oc x canon #jason x oc #jason whittaker #oc: vanessa marble #oc bio #adventures in odyssey radio show #aio #i wanna make aio more inclusive and less er 'christian propaganda' i still enjoy the series tho

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jamalexlee · 5 years

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Black Sails Gift Exchange

This is a fic for @bisexualpirateheart

I hope you like it! Here’s a link to it on AO3

Silver sits staring into the waves ahead of him, stretching out seeming infinitely in all directions. Yet it wasn’t the possibilities those waves offered that held Silver’s focus - he was barely seeing his present - he was too lost in the past. Wondering on all his best intentions and how it had led him to this place…. It truly began shortly before this Christmas period.

December 6th

Silver honestly doesn’t know what possessed him to do this. Honestly nothing was less like him. The discovery, courtesy of his working relationship/friendship/whatever with Max, that perhaps a certain long-lost, long missed former Lord and lover of Captain Flint pre-Flint, was not in fact dead and perhaps merely hidden from society and the world at large, in a plantation in Savannah of all places - a little over a week if the sea was in the mood and the weather allowed for speedy land-travel.

When he’d first heard of the possibility Silver had dismissed it. They were in the middle of war - they had no time for checking on the possibility of long-perhaps not deceased persons who could be used against Captain Flint. And honestly if said former Lord was alive the captain would never forgive Silver for dragging someone he loved so much into a war as bloody (if brief) as theirs had been.

So to pretend he hadn’t heard, to pretend there was no possibility of it being true, seemed to Silver the sanest thing to do. But as time moved on and things became more and more stable Silver found he no longer believed himself. If the Captain had remained simply that, Captain Flint, and nothing more, Silver could have clung to that idea forever. But against his better judgement, against every instinct that had ever served Silver in his survival, selfish though those instincts could be, Silver found he couldn’t keep that secret to himself. Couldn’t keep the possibility of a living Thomas away from James.

Despite the slight panic humming through his veins Silver found himself pleased at how accurate his calculations had been - from Savannah to Nassau in time for St. Nicholas Day, in time to give Flint a Christmas present he could never have expected to receive.

Silver stood and watched as their men approached the Captain with a man that he didn’t recognise by sight but from Flint’s descriptions could only be Thomas Hamilton. A little older no doubt than Flint would remember him but even from further away Silver could tell the man was very handsome.

The captain for his part wasn’t looking in the right direction. He was focused entirely on the carpentry he was working on it wasn’t until the men stopped in front of him and clearly addressed him that Flint even looked up. Silver could only watch as if in slow motion as Flint realised who was standing mere inches from him. The confusion and then joy across his face as he reached for the man who, with an equal amount of joy, was reaching for him. Their embrace so heartfelt, joyful and desperate seemed as if it was without end, especially when they moved in to kiss while managing to remain in contact the whole time.

Silver did his best not to react to the shock of the men surrounding Flint and his no-longer lost love. He could understand their confusion. After all Silver had sent them to retrieve the man that was now kissing his lover. The lover that never was so open in affection with Silver. Noises that they didn’t bother to smother in the night from the privacy of the Captain’s cabin or elsewhere wasn’t the same as this open declaration where everyone on the island could see it and all others would no doubt hear of it before long.

Silver started when he heard his own name and refocused to find Flint turning to look at him - and damn that man that even with all they’d shared he could still hide what he was thinking from Silver when he really wanted to! Silver hoped the shock he could detect was the good kind as Flint and the former lordling made their way towards him.

His lordship arrived first, “John Silver I presume?”

Another one with gorgeous eyes that seem to see right through to your soul. In lieu of saying this or indeed any of the other thoughts about the attractiveness of the man before him Silver extended his hand. Only to find himself engulfed in a hug.

Panicked Silver’s eyes shot to Flint only to find him looking mildly amused. Slowly he moved to return the embrace. “Welcome to Nassau, Lord Thomas Hamilton.”

A laugh is huffed against his neck and Silver found himself staring into deep blue intense eyes, “I think we both know the title “Lord” hasn’t been mine for sometime,” his smile is genuine if sad before turning mischievous, “though I would love to hear how you came by the “long” before your name.” If Silver didn’t know better he would think he was being flirted with. “Thank you Mr. Silver.” And this time he does take Silver’s hand.

“John,” he replies automatically and then carefully wrenching his gaze from those intense orbs, “It was nothing really. I did it for the Captain.”

There was that smirk again, “I have no doubt. And by all means please do call me Thomas.” Thomas turns to face Flint once more, “James you surely don’t make John call you Captain on all occasions do you?”

He doesn’t make me but I like the effect it has on him in the bedroom Silver shook his head as if to shake that thought from his head and definitely from his mouth only to catch sight of a decidedly pink around the ears Flint giving the Lordling Thomas a look. “Thomas-”

“No really do you? Or is it worse? Does he have to use your surname as well? And as we’re on the subject I haven’t heard of a feared pirate captain with the surname I knew you as and since I have every faith that you would always excel at anything you do you are a feared pirate captain. So it’s Captain…?”

“Flint.” There’s definitely a wince as he says this and grimace as he looks up at Thomas because he’s that tall and to the former lordling- Thomas’ - credit he reacted with only a blink and a slight widening of the eyes.

As he opened his mouth to speak however, “Thomas if you want this story we are going to have to relocate to somewhere with liquor - a lot of it,”

***

Seeming to have realised he hit upon a touchy subject the lor - Thomas had stuck to lighter subjects on the walk to the tavern. Silver had dropped slightly behind the couple, he told himself because he needed to talk to their men about events at the Plantation and any compensation needed, but honestly Silver needed the space to quietly observe the difference Lo- Thomas had on Flint.

Flint usually stomped around Nassau but now he strolled - fast because Flint but still… The easy smiles, the adoring looks, ease that seemed to exist in his posture all of a sudden - and how even when someone seemed about to set off the explosion that was Flint’s temper a simple touch from Thomas would cause Flint to calm. Silver had seen that calmer side of Flint, had been the cause of some of his peaceful moments - but never had he seen him like this. He wasn’t sure what to make of that either.

Twilight had begun to fall as they reached the tavern and the men wandered off to their own pursuits leaving Silver to close the distance between himself and Flint and L - Thomas.

“Thomas, could you grab a table? I’ll be right in.” Flint said.

“Of course, Captain” replied Thomas in amusement, “I’ll see about getting all that liquor you requested,” with a final smile in Flint’s direction Thomas entered the tavern.

Silver took a deep breath, “Well he seems-” and with that found himself for the first time in a long time being roughly shoved against a hard surface by an irate Captain.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Bringing Thomas here? The war might be over but Nassau is Nassau! What on earth is a former Lord who by rights should be inheriting this island supposed to do here? What do you think the new ruling classes are going to do to him when they realise? For fucks sake Silver why????”

It was saying something that SIlver had rarely seen Flint so angry. Even in the early days when he didn’t trust him and seemed half a move from killing him at all times or even after the Urca fiasco before Silver came clean. Even as he tried to process where Flint was coming from he felt his own temper flare at the injustice and ingratitude being displayed at what Silver considered one of the few genuinely selfless acts he had ever committed.

“Why? Why what? Why rescue an innocent man from a life he never should have found himself in? Why return your long-lost former lord lover to you? How can you ask me that? Do you truly believe I did this to hurt you? Hurt him?” Silver closes his eyes in pain, “I did this for you. I did this because from the moment II heard of the possibility of him being alive,” Silver throws Flint a look, “and that was some time ago - the war was still happening - I couldn’t let it go. I debated. I argued with myself. I tormented myself with this decision and it came to this. It came to this,” he softened his look and shared deep into those ridiculous green eyes that in his rage looked closer to black, “I couldn’t in all conscious keep Thomas Hamilton from James a minute longer than they’d been kept from each other already.” Trying for levity Silver quipped, “next Christmas I’ll just get you more books.”

Flint’s anger seemed to drain from him almost immediately to be replaced with fear and sadness, the kind of fear and sadness Silver had seen when he first realised Flint actually cared what people thought of him despite all he’d done and was planning to do. And in that moment Silver realised as he had then what was actually upsetting him.

“I’m not James. Not the James he remembers.” Flint looks at the floor suddenly so vulnerable, “There are things Flint has done that are unforgivable.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Flint’s eyes flash up to Silver’s face, puzzled, “Only Thomas can decide what is unforgivable or not. Only he can offer the forgiveness you need, but…” Silver brings his hand to James cheek fingers lightly playing with the loose strands of hair there, “you can only receive his forgiveness if you tell him the truth.” Silver locks gazes with Flint, “I saw the truth of you - I’m sure he will too and love this new you just as much as the one he loved before.”

Flint nuzzled against Silver’s hand seeking and receiving that closeness, that reassurance that Silver happily supplied. He gently caressed Flint’s cheek before turning his hand to cup the same cheek and rub his thumb along his lips. Flint looked up through his eyelashes in a way that should be impossible for a man taller than him and Silver felt any anger he had draining away being replaced by the deep heartfelt affection he felt for this impossible maddening man. He leaned forwards-

“Darling,” the lordling’s voice rang out, “organised a table and a decent amount of liquor… Oh I interrupt something?”

“Not at all,” Silver stepped away as quickly as his half a leg would allow, “simply conferring with the Captain about certain matters with the crew. Nothing world shattering.” Silver couldn’t look at him, at them, he just couldn’t, he started walking away, “if I’m needed for anything ship related I’ll be back on The Walrus.”

***

Night had fully fallen by the time Silver made it to The Walrus but Silver wouldn’t let the tears that threatened to fall. He won’t, he can’t be seen to be weak even in this.

Entering the captain’s cabin, the cabin he’d long thought of as theirs, Silver was assaulted by memories. Some that had happened right here others that had happened elsewhere but had led them to here - wherever here was.

Going to the Captain’s cabin on the Spanish warship after Flint once again officially held that title with the intention of having a private celebration with Flint had never seemed to Silver a great idea - honestly he thought it would ultimately be the worst one - but at the time it had seemed like the thing to do. To offer himself as a trophy almost, a well earned prize, certainly one that was interested in what such claiming would look like. Honestly Silver had gone into it half expecting to be rejected out-right - possibly with a punch or worse for the insult of suggesting he would be interested in that.

Which Silver had been in no doubt Flint was. He’d seen Flint eyeing up the men, Billy and himself in particular, when The Walrus had been beached. He knew Flint was inclined in that direction but that didn’t mean he would be willing to indulge. Still he was surprised to find himself being kissed and touched with such passion and skill. Flint had brought him to places and sensations he hadn’t known he’d had and all the while encouraging him to let go - he’d almost felt sorry for the crew that night - they couldn’t have gotten much sleep - especially when Flint had woken him at the crack of dawn the next day with a blowjob and another round before donning his Captain mask once more and beginning his day.

Silver had felt the phantom of Flint all day. Had avoided sitting down most of the day though the one time he’d forgotten and yelped in pain the crew members were amused but not rude. Honestly most had seemed to be happy with the slightly less grumpy Flint had that materialised that morning.

Silver doesn’t know, even now, what truly processed him to return the following night. Sure at the time he’d told himself someone that good in bed was simply worth repeated goes. But even then the spectre of danger was trying to warn him off - that and the idea that it wasn’t something that could possibly last. Who they were, what they wanted, how they saw the world surely it was too different - and in any case Silver had intended to be gone from that world the second he got his share of that gold.

Silver tapped lightly on the Captain’s cabin and without waiting for acknowledgement or answer went in. “Captain.”

Flint’s eyes flicked up briefly before returning to his maps. “Silver.”

Silver moved towards the desk, smirking to himself remembering what had happened on that obscenely large desk only the night before, and leaned forward placing his hands on the desk. “I think we both know why I’m here.”

Flint’s eyes were subtle but flicked up nonetheless. “No.”

“Oh I agree,” murmured Silver, “It’s an awful idea. Truly. Awful.” A barely there smirk - victory. “So how about we decide to agree this is a truly awful decision that we mutually agree to keep making for the foreseeable future?”

The bad decision turned out not to be the sex but the feelings that came with it. Those showed up later but by the time Flint was planning to return to the sea to search for Vane he and Silver had come to The Walrus purely to finally make love, for that’s what they did that night, accepting all that they were and all they could do to each other, cementing their new partnership even as Flint went off on what they both knew could be a simple suicide mission. Please try not to get yourself killed while you’re gone? I’ll try.

And it was that night, in this cabin, knowing they had changed from what they were to something that could last, could mean something, that had Silver finally break down. The tears fell and Silver cried desperately in the bed he’d shared with that beautiful contradictory man, for while he’d given Flint, given James, something his soul needed desperately in doing so he might have lost the love of his life in the process.

***

It had been a week and Silver had decided he truly hated former Lord Thomas Hamilton.

Having taken his advice Flint had confessed, apparently everything. And sure the lordling didn’t exactly approve of James’ actions as Flint but he understood. Apparently he and his wife had once agreed James was the living embodiment of Coriolanus before he’d gone off and actually followed the plot of the second act. So he honestly hadn’t been that surprised. The murder of his father was actually something Thomas was fine with, as was the ending of Peter Ashe (if not the town - bought with the blood of their pain or not) - the death Thomas had had issues with was Miranda and though he’d raged that pain and grief was something he could share with Flint. If anything it brought them closer together.

As for Flint’s prediction that the island would have issues with the former lordling turned out to be untrue. His honest interest in people and general ability to cause people to be at ease in his presence had made him many friends and allies - also his habit of “Darling”ing Flint went he was about to be well “Flinty” (the Lord’s word for that) and stopping him dead had endeared him to many and caused much amusement to Jack, Anne and Max.

Silver though. He had always been the one with the words. That talent to command the attention of a room and hold it. To know what to say, how to move, how not to get the room, the people, to do as he, or who he was currently working for, wanted.

But next to this man, to Thomas, Silver was an amateur. This island was filled from top to bottom of people who should hate him, should wish him ill and yet he had captured their hearts easily. He got on with the pirates, the barbarians, the merchants, the inlanders - hell despite his white aristocratic background him somehow managed to get on with the Maroons - Madi certainly seemed to like him but… he just bugged Silver.

Sure the Lordling had so many great qualities. His great breeding was evident in his walk, his stance, how he sat. He always seemed as if he was about to give some grand speech and all were rapt and ready for it. After a word with Max and Jack he was dressed in a fashion more to his liking and though it should have made him inaccessible to the general crowd it suited him so thoroughly it seemed to only make him more him…

Silver supposed for a man in his late forties L-Thomas was a moderately attractive man. His blonde locks had some grey but for some reason they suit him. He has a ridiculously strong jaw - it shouldn’t look that good. He was so very tall - almost as tall as Vane had been (if he was ever once again in the Captain’s private circle he’d bring it up) and obviously strong. But so gentle and delicate in his movements like a dance, a performance. It was a shame the current fashion called for such tight breeches. Silver had tried not to notice but he had - Thomas was… well endowed. It wasn’t even a proportion thing - it was just… big. Those lips he really needed to stop biting, licking, when searching for the next word, next thought. And christ those eyes. So deep blue, so intense. And if Flint saw his soul Silver worried Thomas saw further than that - he could barely be in his pretense. Especially since he was usually with Flint.

The only thing worse than being in love with a man in love with a man that wasn’t him was realising he was deeply truly and completely falling in love with the same man. Silver truly hated Thomas because if he’d known him otherwise he’d have loved him totally and completely but he didn’t know if he had any place or any right to even want Thomas…. Especially since he still wanted and loved Flint. Fuck he should have just got him books. Well only books.

***

A few days of avoiding Flint and the Lordling later Silver found himself cornered by that self-same former Lord - Thomas.

“I want to thank you John,” he said, crowding him against a wall.

“You did already,” he gasped, “the day you arrived,”

“Oh not for my rescue from that plantation, or indeed what your men did to it, but for what arrived at James and Miranda’s former home yesterday,” Silver doesn’t speak. “The books. Quite the present. We’re both biblophiles. It was clever of you to bring the collection from the plantation to here - honestly this island needs a proper library.”

Silver quirks an eyebrow at that. Thomas sighs.

“You are exhausting. Almost as much as James.” Thomas stares at his hands, fiddling with them, “I think you need to come by the house.” Silver opens his mouth to object, “It's the Christmas season even if the Caribbean doesn’t fit the official ideal of the season and friends visiting during this time is traditional.” Thomas flicks his eyes up to him and its impossible, he’s taller than him but suddenly he’s looking so much smaller than him. “Please can you come to the house? For supper? Tonight? Say yes.”

Thomas fixes him with that intense stare and he is lost, “Yes. I’ll come.”

Thomas smiles as brilliantly as the sun and Silver finds he can’t remember why this is a bad idea.

***

It's a long trek to the home that had previously been Flint and Mrs. Barlow’s home. But Silver endures it. He arrives just as dusk is falling and taps on the door.

“Quartermaster,” breathes Thomas, “I believe that’s your official title? Dear John,” he throws the door open wide, “do come in.”

Silver enters gingerly. But there is no one else in the immediate area except Thomas placing the last few finishing touches to the table and occasionally stirring at the supper on the fire.

“Would you excuse me for a moment? The water pail is empty and that won’t do for our needs tonight.”

“Of course. Do you need me to do anything?” Silver says as he removes his coat.

“Not really. Perhaps keep half an eye on the pot. But its unlikely to need any help - its pretty much done.”

Thomas ducked out of the door dragging a coat over him as he went.

Silver wandered over to the pot of stew and gave it a half-hearted poke knowing he’d likely do as bad as good in doing so.

“What The Fuck Are You Doing Here?” That deep and strong voice was unmistakable.

“I was invited.” says Silver simply. “By your paramour. Apparently as thanks for the books from the plantation.”

Flint ducks his head at that. “Yes. Thank you. God knows what we would have done if Thomas had only my tiny collection to sustain him. I shall still need to expand the number of books on this island if I’m to feed his need.” Flint’s eyes flick once more to Silver’s face and stay there boring into him as before. “Why are you here?”

“Because I was invited,” replies Silver tiredly, “and it was nice to be wanted.”

Flint’s face hardens. “You believe you are unwanted?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Silver snaps. “Since he returned I have seen nothing of you!” Silver looks at the floor, “And that’s fine. You were his truest love it makes sense he is yours. And I knew it. When I brought him here I knew I’d lose you to him. It shouldn’t hurt but it does.” A tear escapes and rolls down his cheek, “And worse than that I…. I think… no I know I love him too. He’s… he’s just… he’s so… I shouldn’t. Even more than you I know he’s bad for me but I…” Silver wipes his face, “It’s fine. It’s my problem. Tell him I got sick. I’ll go back to The Walrus and leave you guys to your happiness…”

Silver is grabbed from his attempt towards the door and turned hand to cheek towards Flint, “Do you think me so an inconstant lover, partner, that the return of Thomas would mean I would no longer have no feeling for you? Have I been so bad a lover, partner that you think I have no true feelings for you? Silver, John… Do you not know how much I loved you? Love you? And love you all the more because of what you gave me? How can you think you can give me something I believed no one was capable of giving me and think I’d love you less because of that?”

Silver desperately searches Flint’s face for any signs of lies and finds none. Only desperation, sadness, love and hope…. Silver sags and finds strong hands keeping him upright.

“I’m sorry,” whispers Silver, “I thought… I thought-”

What Silver thought was cut off as Flint brought his lips gently to Silver’s in a questioning kiss. Silver pressed back desperately - god how he’d missed this man. Missed the simple touches that sent such fire through his veins. And now with the confirmation that his devotion, his love, was not one-sided, that even the return of this great love of his past could not change his feelings for him, the fire was not just a burn of passion but the glow of a warm fireside. Silver happily sank into Flint the kiss just beginning to be greedy when-

“Finally,” Silver practically jumped a foot backwards at the sound of Thomas’ voice behind him but was prevented from fleeing by the strong embrace of his captain, his lover, who only allowed him enough movement to turn towards Thomas. “I thought I might have to tie you together in room overnight to get the pair of you to talk to one another. I had truly feared we would be here until the next Christmas period.”

Silver’s blood thumped in his ears but Thomas was smiling, his eyes intent on he and Flint still loosely in an embrace with Flint flush against his back and thumbs rubbing lightly against his stomach.

Thomas moved with ridiculous grace towards them, something that could only have been taught from birth, yet the approach had an edge to it. He’s stalking towards me came the thought out of nowhere and now thought it was clear this was what Thomas was doing. He stopped just short of actually touching Silver but close enough he could feel each breath exhaled, those deep blue eyes hypnotising in their intensity. He was studying Silver, searching for some answer and apparently found it as he closed the final distance between them with a hand to his cheek and a gentle but thorough kiss.

Silver wanted to touch, wanted to put his hands on Thomas, but his body seemed unwilling to obey - honestly the force and shock of that kiss had Silver sure he would have been on the floor but for the men holding up close and sure between them. Perhaps they knew just how deeply affected he was by this moment - had they struggled to keep the Earth beneath their feet the first time they had kissed too?

Slowly Thomas drew back and once more pinned Silver with his gaze. “From the moment I heard the name of my rescuerer I was curious. Who would go to such trouble for an apparent stranger? Have the resources to send men so far on so little information and with such loyalty and devotion? And then I saw you - saw how James looked at you - and I knew I had met a man I would have to know much better.” a pause, “Intimately.” There was that mischievous look again. “You have said I have thanked you already but I feel my thanks have been rather insufficient. After all when I was on that plantation I had often said I would get on my knees before the person who would free me from that awful place,” Thomas hands were now at Silver’s breeches, “Your exceptional beauty makes what would have been a simple benediction a true pleasure.”

Gaze locked on Silver Thomas opened and slid down his breeches before sliding down in turn all the time his eyes on him. Flint’s hands too were busy seeing to Silver’s shirt and in confusion Silver turned to him for an answer only find himself drawn into another deep kiss of passion.

A shift yet deft stroke of his member brought Silver’s attention once more to Thomas and, definitely no mistaking it now, he was smirking, “Definitely Long John Silver.”

Silver didn’t bother to hide the eyeroll, “That ridiculous nickname was given with regards to my memory. I promise you the man who came up with it wouldn’t have-” he broke off with an inelegant and incoherent noise as Thomas’ talented mouth joined his hand on his cock.

And what a sight Thomas was on his knees, those lovely smirking lips sucking lightly at his head as the agile fingers of one hand teased and stroked. Silver was sure he would have sunk to the floor himself had it hadn’t been for Thomas’ remaining had pinning him in place against Flint. Flint for his part had found his way to Silver’s nipples and was caressing them in a way that was frankly distracting - and that was nothing to what his lips were busy doing to Silver’s neck.

It was Thomas suddenly swallowing his length down that spurned Silver to motion. With a wail, eyes closed, he brought a hand to each man’s head, fingers digging in and grabbing handfuls of hair, desperately needing something to anchor himself in the moment.

Silver opened his eyes briefly as Flint’s lips left his neck only for them to close again as Flint captured his mouth in a possessive kiss, moaning, his own condition being made apparent by the hardening length at Silver’s back.

It was too much. Thomas’ mouth insistent at him, swallowing him deeply now before withdrawing to the tip before engulfing him once more, his fingers at his hips no doubt leaving marks, Flint’s fingers pinching at his nipples and exploring his chest in turn, mouth never leaving his skin, pressing desperate kisses and nips everywhere they touched. Silver pulled strongly at Thomas’ hair in warning but succeeded in only causing that maddening man to suck all the harder. With a strangled and broken noise Silver came gasping into Flint’s mouth, kept from the floor only by his two lovers holding him steady in the moment.

Silver came back to himself as Thomas stood once more before him reaching towards James as James leaned towards him. They shared a scorching kiss over Silver’s shoulder as he stared still floating in his orgasm haze. James licked his lips wickedly as they parted, Silver groaned as his body tried valiantly to stir once more back into action despite the short respite it had had.

“I should have guessed you’d be a noisy one,” murmured Thomas into his hair, nuzzling slightly.

“Oh I can assure you he hasn’t even begun to be noisy Thomas. You should hear him once he really gets going,” James once more attached that damned mouth to Silver’s neck and whatever smart remark had been playing round Silver’s mind slipped away.

“Perhaps relocation to the bedroom would be in order, hmm?” suggested Thomas as he took Silver’s hands and began walking backwards.

A single step on his left leg though had Silver nearly pitching forward in pain. Bloody leg. Luckily with the hands of both men on him he was kept mostly steady. Thomas quickly once more bent to remove his breeches completely hesitating at the buckles holding his iron peg in place.

“Please don’t,” Silver said. “I don’t… I’ll do it.”

Thomas stood and pressed a kiss to Silver’s lips before retreating to the bedroom, throwing heated looks over his shoulder at the two men still left.

Silver looked down and awkwardly began to bend to remove his peg when Flint’s hands stopped him. “We once agreed pride should not be an issue between us. I hope that hasn’t changed. Let me help… let me care for you, John.”

Overcome Silver could only nod and steady himself on Flint’s shoulder as he moved to remove the peg. As it came away Flint grasped it firmly before sweeping Silver into his arms, the strength of his captain always a surprise but one that in this instance felt safe and warm as Flint carried him through the house towards the bedroom.

Silver got rid of what remained his clothing as he was carried, feeling impatient all of a sudden to return to the heated moment that had shared only moments before. Upon entering they found Thomas already disrobed and waiting for them on the bed - for all those clothes show they hide even more Silver couldn’t decide where to look first he really his so large all over.

As he was deposited on the bed by James he was taken quickly into Thomas’ embrace fingers threading into Silver’s curls and face guided into a deep kiss. Thomas broke the kiss rubbing his nose against Silver’s and nodding at him to turn to look behind him. James was undressing, somewhat subconsciously, a light flush about his face.

“Doesn’t he look divine John,” stated Thomas, somewhat louder than was perhaps necessary to reach John who was skin to skin to him and obviously aimed at James as much as him, “I should have an issue with his shyness of his form if that blush didn’t improve the view for the better.”

A deeper red flooded James’ skin even as he glared and Thomas huffed a laugh into Silver’s hair. That blush really did look wonderful on James skin - even if it made his freckles harder to see from a distance. Really all that meant was they had to get closer.

James finally naked as the day he was born quickly joined them on the bed and went to Silver’s arms kissing him gently, “I’ve missed you.”

Silver smiled, “You’ve not been lacking in company surely, especially here?” Silver stroked a hand down Thomas’ thigh purposely avoiding his considerable length, “and such grand company to boot.”

Thomas caught his hand bringing it to his lips, “Your lack of presence was felt all the same. I much prefer this solid and stunning version of you in our bed rather than the ghostly version of you that has been hovering unseen ever since I returned.” Thomas kissed him hungrily hand returning to Silver and stroking, “Besides this is something James would miss terribly.”

James groaned, “I should have known allowing you two to converse would be dangerous. Enough talking about your cocks already. Action is what needed here gentlemen.”

“Oh so forceful James. Or is this Flint?” Thomas said teasingly.

Silver snorts. “It’s James. Flint is never this talkative-”

Silver broke off with a shout as James engulfed him to his root sucking strongly causing Silver to harden once more.

Flint smiled his sharklike smile at Silver, “Thank fuck you’re young. I have truly missed this,” Flint teasingly stroked, “especially riding it. And after Thomas thanked you so thoroughly I was worried I wouldn’t get the chance.”

Flint’s other hand, streaked with oil, quickly coated Silver’s cock and then Flint immediately sunk down - Oh god Thomas must have fucked him only shortly before I arrived. Bastard planned this. Silver could only groan his pleasure at the warm heat surrounding him. He had missed this - missed James.

For a moment James simply sat there before he slowly began to grind down on Silver, hands coming to the headboard for support, shifting, fucking himself, slowly a look of pure bliss on his face, Silver brought his hands to Flint’s hips needing to touch him while he looked so beautiful, so free. Thomas for his part was watching James too.

“He looks wonderful sat on your cock, John.” came Thomas’ voice near his ear. “He could come just like that. Slowly fucking himself on you until he came. You wouldn’t though - he’d make sure he’d get another ride before you came again.” Thomas’ hands were wandering Silver with purpose now, “But I imagine you know this. He will take charge if you don’t. Perhaps you should do something about that.” he finished with a nip to his ear.

Silver decided to take the hint and began to push up into Flint causing them both to make obscene noises. While Flint was briefly distracted by this Silver surged forwards and now James was below him hands grasping John’s shoulders for purchase and eyes urging him to move. Which Silver happily did.

Silver had barely made two thrusts when he let out a moan that had little to do with James and everything to do with the tongue now working its way into him. Silver grabbed at the hand on his hips and squeezed and both his thrusts and the ministrations of Thomas’ tongue began in earnest.

It was just as well he had come already as the duel pleasure of Flint surrounding him and Thomas’ tongue invading him had would have made this whole venture over far too quickly. It was offered a slight respite when Thomas’ length replaced his tongue - god that man was huge. But Silver had always adjusted quickly and now he had Flint surrounding him and Thomas filling him he wasn’t long before they were moving together all hell bent on the same course. Silver had stopped trying to guess which hand was whose and only knew which lips by the angle and beard as he rode his pleasure fucking and being fucked by these truly astounding men he had fallen for. It was beautiful and perfect and a tragedy it couldn’t last forever. When Silver came back to himself he was cleaned and between his men being nuzzled and cuddled and just plain cared for.

Thoroughly sated and curled between his lovers Silver was happily planning on falling into happy lustful dreams when he felt Thomas stirring at his side.

“He wouldn’t have what?”

“What?”

“The man who gave you your nickname? He wouldn’t have what?” Thomas’ fingers trailed idly across Silver’s chest. “You were in the middle of saying something about it before we distracted you.”

Silver gave a snort, “You’re lucky I have the good memory he named me for - anyone else would have had that thought and a good many others fucked from them by the two of you.” He turned onto his back to look at Thomas, “I was about to say, ‘he wouldn’t have realised the sexual connotations of that nickname. He certainly had no knowledge I was long in something other than memory - and I doubt the fact would have registered for him if he had.” Thomas looked puzzled so Silver continued, “The man was known as Billy Bones here. He had been boatswain and quartermaster, among other things, on mine and Flint’s crew and in all the years I knew him I never knew him to have a sexual impulse - at least not an obvious one. He didn’t even seem to realise James fancied him rotten,” a dig was delivered to Silver’s side, “Well you did.”

“Never did a thing about his attraction I presume?” came Thomas’ not quite question as he threw a slightly exasperated look in James’ direction.

“You know him well enough to know the answer to that. Honestly if I hadn’t had made that first move our attraction would have gone unexplored also.” Thomas smirked knowingly at that, “You too?”

“Absolutely. Miranda too. Left to James none of it would have ever happened.”

“It wouldn’t have been appropriate to bed Billy, even if he had been interested himself,” growled James, clearly not keen on the direction this conversation was taking, “He was very young [“and how old is John, darling?”] and he was all but a son to my quartermaster at the time. It all would have been too complicated - also why I didn’t begin anything with John, among other reasons,” Flint shot Silver a look while Thomas laughed so he’d told him all that too, “but Silver was very… persuasive.”

“Perhaps if you had bedded him you would have had an easier time with him. Did it not frustrate you to know he had an attraction to a foe that perhaps he could have turned into an ally in such a way?” Thomas asked Silver.

“Oh that wasn’t Billy! If I’d have wanted to maneuver him into that sort of an arrangement I would have sent him in the direction of-” the name Vane was kept from being spoken by James’ very insistent lips, pressing him back into the bed and hands moving to clearly with the intention of ending this conversation immediately.

Oh well - I doubt Thomas will remember to ask about this as well.

Christmas Eve

Silver returned from the cliffs just in time for the sun to begin setting. Entering their shared home Silver narrowed avoided hitting his head on one of the lower hanging kissing boughs (“So you can easily reach them, dear”) and reached into the heavily scented greenery to retrieve a sprig of mistletoe bearing two berries.

Silver glanced around him happily taking in the various evergreen decorations that had appeared in their home earlier this morning including the hazel strewn yule log burning merrily away despite the entire lack of cold within. Silver wandered over first to Thomas with his sprig receiving a slightly distracted kiss in return so lost was he in his book before turning to the hearth working full capacity on the goose and the other components that would make up their Christmas feast that evening where a somewhat frazzled James was working.

Undaunted by James’ mild glare Silver held his mistletoe high and received a somewhat grumpy kiss in return.

“I see you have arrived just in time to avoid working due to spiritual reasons,” James groused poking seemingly randomly at the food cooking before him.

It was true, he was shortly to light the menorah after which all work was forbidden for an hour afterwards, but Silver hardly thought this mattered.

“You won’t let me cook remember?” Silver smirked happily, “Don’t trust me to poison everyone with ‘my entire lack of ability ‘.” he quoted and both he and James looked over at the snort from Thomas.

“You did rather shoot yourself in the foot with that story about the pig, darling,” Thomas said eyes still firmly on the pages before him. “You can’t take it or the comment about “where ever did you learn to cook?” back just because you’ve backed yourself into a corner for the Christmas feast.”

Flint did glare at that comment, “I didn’t invite half the island here for dinner either.”

Thomas does look up at that comment, “Four extra people is hardly half the island, James. And feasts with friends and neighbours are part of Christmas. Just because you don’t like people doesn’t mean I won’t be inviting them over.” Thomas returns to his book. “Besides Max et al are hosting Boxing Day and Madi is overseeing the 12th night celebrations so don’t be a grump.”

James huffed and returned to his hearth muttering about inviting former enemies into his home under the guise of celebrating as Silver wandered over to the menorah in the windowsill.

Night had fallen and Silver reached for the shamash* and began murmuring the half-remembered blessings as he lit the first three candles. Silver wished he could be sure the words were right but after so many years he had only dim memories to guide him but he was sure the effort was worth something - if only to the memory of those long gone.

As Silver finished intoning the blessings and left the candles to burn Flint spoke up again, “This will be able to be left to its own devices in an hour - and there’ll be space if you…?”

“Of course,” Silver smiled over at the blushing captain prepared to agree it was the heat that made him so pink if questioned.

Ever since he’d dared to cook and prepare the latkes Flint had become addicted. Even If the blessings had been only half remembered the method of making latkes had stuck. As did the flashes of long dark curly hair and eyes like his smiling down at him from seemingly ridiculous heights. Silver shook his head to remove them - the past still wasn’t his friend but some parts he was trying to allow to come back to him.

Silver began to walk over to Thomas only for Flint’s voice to stop him, “On the table. It’s for you. It’s late. I’m sorry. My delivery men were not as efficient as yours.”

James was definitely blushing now. All the heat in the world wouldn’t have caused that familiar deep red that travelled down his neck and (though it wasn’t showing now) far beyond. Silver went to the table and found a box decorated lightly with evergreen and holly. He opened it to find a beautifully tooled hardback entitled Les Mille et une nuits. Silver excitedly turned to the flyleaf page and read the carefully inscribed message:

To my real-life Shahrazad,

You need never fear the dawn

Your James

Silver’s eyes flicked to the back of the determinedly not looking at him Captain. That colour was never going to fade now. Silver made his way over in any case and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“You remembered?” He was staring intently at the goose now, “I love it. Late or not.”

As Silver turned to go he was grabbed back for a deep kiss and nuzzle. Before a swift smack was delivered to his backside. “Now shoo. Go bother Thomas and leave me to cook.” But James was smiling shyly as he turned back to the fire.

Silver for once didn’t argue and turned to join Thomas on his perch. “Whatever did he get you? He absolutely refused to allow me to see it.” Silver showed happily passed the volume to Thomas, “Ohh and one I haven’t read.” Thomas flicked it open. “Shahrazad?”

“Married to a blood-thirsty, tyrant king with a dawn death sentence over her head Shahrazad avoided her fate by telling elaborate and neverending stories.” Thomas looked over with amusement at James but he was still not looking and not listening at all. “And the book is the stories she tells all filled with people outsmarting powerful curses and getting themselves in and out of trouble almost in the same breath.”

“How very you! You read French?” Thomas queried.

“I do. Not as well as I did. And I didn’t read the book originally in French.” Silver leaned his head on Thomas’ shoulder, “Can you read it well enough to translate? I don’t believe our dear captain has much French.”

A soft, sad smile played across Thomas’ face and Silver realised he had managed to remind Thomas once again of Miranda. He wondered at what it was he had said and made a note to ask later as Thomas opened the book to the first page.

“I think I can manage dear… A long long time ago lived two kings who were brothers...”

Silver closed his eyes as the words of the familiar story washed over him along with the warmth and security that only came when he was with his loves. Silver had never expected when he decided to retrieve Thomas for Flint he would have resulted in Silver gaining such a precious thing - not Thomas though he was unique and wonderful of course - but a home. And Silver knew in his bones in a way he had never known before he would never be wanting for one again.

***

Okay so some notes on the story:

-First off I am a total goyim. I researched how one goes about celebrating Hanukkah on a Jewish website but if I got any details wrong its my fault and no offense intended. On that note the shamash is the ninth candle of the menorah - the “helper” candle used to light the other candles since you are not supposed to use the other candles in anything but worship. Latkes are a kind of potato pancake treat made during this period. Silver is lighting the 3rd candle because Hanukkah begins apparently on Dec 22nd.

-So in Georgian times Christmas gifts were exchanged on St. Nicholas’ Day, the 6th of December, which was the start of the Christmas season in this period - which is why Silver was so keen to have Thomas there on that date. Twelfth night was (and as far as I know still is) Jan 6 - which is the ending of the season celebrated by a very large feast and party. Madi is going to be busy.

-Evergreens and greenery were part of decoration for the celebration of Christmas but it was considered bad luck to bring it into the house before Christmas Eve. The Yule log was also retrieved on Christmas Eve and decorated with Hazel plants before being set alight and left as such for as long as possible during the season. A small piece of it was kept back to light the following years one.

-I totally stole the idea of Les Mille et une nuits being a favoured book of Silver’s from another fic - though which I can’t remember at the moment so sorry if its yours! - because it is so perfect for him. But it is a bit anachronistic - technically speaking it wasn’t translated into French until between 1704-1717 - by which time Silver was already on Nassau and probably didn’t have time for casual reading so to make it something he could have read when he was younger I’ve had him claim he read it in a different language. His vague background sort of makes it possible - but I can’t claim I know for certain Silver would have known Arabic!

-That post going round where a guy pins a guy to wall and the wall is another guy? Yeah this was my attempt at that. Hope it worked for everyone!

-Sorry for the need for extra notes - I’m a former History student with a degree and a big geek besides.

Hope you enjoyed it and a very happy holidays to all!

#blacksailsgiftexchange #@bisexualpirateheart #Silverflint #Silverflinthamilton #I hope you guys like this and it doesn't come off as a lot of waffle #I think it'll be easier to read on AO3 - my blog is a pain for reading small text

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somebodyhelpthenotdeadfreds · 5 years

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some John/Des/Gary goodness!

this little fic is brought to you by @liberalautisticqueernerd831, who wanted a fic of this ship and Des and Gary being a little jealous but gelling together over time. Here you go! I hope you enjoy!

Gary couldn't be happier for John.

Seriously, he couldn’t be.

Des was free from Neron’s grasp, the timeline was back in order, and John and Des were working on getting back together. A happy ending for everyone. He was not jealous of Des, not at all.

He wasn’t jealous of that crooked smile John had for Des that Gary had been privy to for a while beforehand. He wasn’t jealous of the way John would leave his hand on Des’s shoulder, squeezing there gently, or the way he’d lean up and kiss him on the lips, cup the side of his face while he did so.

“Sounds like you’re jealous,” Nora said, not looking up from her latest Rebecca Silver book, and Gary groaned, leaning back in the spare chair he brought in.

“I’m not,” he nearly whined. “I’m just - I’m being supportive. 100% in support of John being happy again.”

“With someone else.”

“I - with the man he loved and lost and got back again, of course I’m happy for him,” Gary argued, sitting up then to look at her. “It’s not fair that I try and keep a hold on him when they’re meant to be together.”

Des was in a much better state of mind than he had been for the last few months. He wasn’t in hell, and his body wasn’t inhabited by a demon that fed on causing pain and destruction. True, yes, he was still in recovery from the possession, and he still had a ways to go at feeling right as rain once again, but he was making progress every day. And John was there for every step of the way, always at his side and ready to listen whenever the voice in his head grew too loud to bear.

That didn’t mean he didn’t recognize the signs between John and Agent Gary Greene when he saw them. John had told him about how they were together when he was under Neron’s influence, and stuck in Hell. Des wasn’t upset about it, he understood. For all John knew, he was lost to him forever and needed comfort, and found it in someone else. He couldn’t fault him for that, and Gary was, frankly, cute.

However, he could tell that the relationship wasn’t completely over, over.

For all intents and purposes, it appeared that they had attempted to convert their relationship to a work partnership only, and it was fairly successful. Except, he noticed when Gary was staring at John’s mouth instead of his eyes, or the looks they shared over a spellbook, or when John’s hand rested on Gary’s lower back before abruptly clasping it against his shoulder when Gary solved a piece of a case.

But no, he wasn’t jealous. Why would he be jealous?

So, there was a siren on the loose in 17th century France, and Des let himself into the office where the Legends were discussing their big plan to capture the creature and bring them back to the Bureau. Des watched from the doorway as Gary stood next to John, then propped himself up on his arms on the table to look over some old texts and battle plans. John turned to him as he went over ways to stop a siren, how he needs these certain herbs to complete a spell. Gary was nodding and writing down notes in his binder, and as he straightened up he nudged against John’s shoulder, almost on instinct. John squeezed his shoulder once, also apparently on instinct, and they shared a look that settled low in Des’s core.

It was petty when he cleared his throat and coughed once, adn John’s attention turned from Gary to him, and he got up from his chair, kissing him on the lips. “Hey, darling.”

“Hey,” Des smiled. “So, what's the plan?”

John tells him but there’s an advantage to Des being taller than him, it means he can glance over John’s head to Gary’s smile looking incredibly fake, like it was a sloppy bandaid to cover up an injury. He caught Des’s gaze and they both held it for a few seconds too long, before Gary nodded and turned away first.

Des thinks about that look over tea that’s grown cold while he’s back in his room to recover further, trying to decipher it. That usual smile that Gary always had for him, was always strained when John was in the picture.

Over the past two weeks, it was clear to them both that this had emerged to passive-aggression. Sneaking a touch from John whenever possible (not too difficult) gaining his attention in the room and lording it over the other one for that brief period of time.

Except, every time John rested a hand on the base of Gary’s neck and looked him in the eyes, spoke in that low tone of voice and Gary looked at him like he was the entire world, Des felt a pang of something that wasn’t quite jealous, wasn’t quite sadness.

Except, every time John led Desk into a kiss (or Des led John inot a kiss) and Des would have that soft, understanding look in his eyes that soothes even the deepest scars, Gary felt a pull at his core that he couldn't chalk up to envy.

Des studied his hand, as John took a swig from his flask during the slow, easy pace of their late night card game. That question of his own feelings towards Gary made him ask John, “So, Gary.”

“Yeah?” John asked, getting a cigarette out of the pocket of his jacket, then fumbled for a lighter. “What about him?”

“You told me you - broke up.”

“I’m the one that left him,” John admitted softly, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag. “Long before I found you again, or knew where to find you.”

Des shook his head. Of course, he should have known. He thought they had both stepped apart before he had come back into the picture. “Johnny-”

“I panicked, Des. I - I liked him, maybe - maybe even more than just that. But I’d just lost you, and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him, too.”

Des nodded, the wheels turning in his head as John decided to fold his hand and take another drink.

Des made his way down to Nora’s cell, at a different time than when they’d meet up and bond over being formerly possessed. He slowly approached when he heard Gary’s voice.

“I know, I sound dumb.”

“Only a little,” Nora answered back. “But that’s kind of why I like you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Gary laughed, and Des could see the wide grin stretched across his face as he gathered up his things in the cell. “I’ll talk to you later, Nora.”

“Bye.”

Gary left the cell and was so busy adjusting his suit jacket that he didn’t notice Des until he quite literally ran into him. He looked up and then looked away, telling the wall behind him, “Oh, sorry, excuse me.”

“Hey, wait,” Des said, putting a hand on Gary’s arm. “I want to talk to you about-” “John, I know,” Gary nodded. “Look, I know, it’s not - we broke up and you’re back together. I don’t want him upset like when he lost you again. I’m not going to interfere with you b-” He placed a hand on Des’s arm to push him off but found himself pausing, not making to pull away just yet for no real reason.

“Listen, Gary, we both love John.”

“...I didn’t say that I l-”

“I can tell,” Des smiled, a real smile that he found wasn’t so difficult. “And I think he feels that way about you.”

“He said-”

“We know John, we know he always drinks from a half-empty glass.” Des put his free hand over Gary’s on his arm, and watched a smile pull at Gary’s lips. “And frankly, I think pulling him out of that mindset is a two-man job.”

Gary’s smile finally broke out across his face. “Oh, really now?”

“Definitely.”

John stubbed out a cigarette and attempted to comb through his hair with his fingers, deciding he was satisfied with his results before opening the door to Des’s recovery room.

He was surprised to see that Gary was also here, sitting at the table across from Des. They were sharing a cup of coffee and playing a round of cards, smiling and laughing, that icy tension dissolved between them. They looked up when they saw John come.

Gary scooted the extra chair back from the table, and beamed that brilliant smile at John as Des ges tired for John to accept the chair.

“Hey, come be with us, babe.”

One of John’s real smiles, adorably crooked as they were, was on his lips as he closed the door, and joined both of the men he...loved, at the table.

#john/des/gary #legends of tomorrow #gary green #john constantine #desmond laveau #I hope you enjoyed!#this was such a nice prompt that I had to do it

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thetygre · 6 years

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Arthurian D&D Books

So before the tumblrpocalypse hits us all, I guess I better belt out that mini-review of D&D books that deal with Arthurian legend for @magitekbeth, @fuckyeaharthuriana, and @lucrezianoin. These are specifically 3rd Edition books since that was the edition I started with, and it also had the greatest body of material to work with. 3rd was famous for its glut of books by third-party publishers, and Arthurian mythology was a recurring subject under the Open Source Rules (OSR).

That being said, Arthurian legend has always had some form of presence in Dungeons and Dragons. It is very openly an inspirational source in the fantasy gumbo that is D&D. The original 1st Edition Deities and Demigods included ‘Arthurian Heroes’ in it, along with gods from just about every pantheon. 2nd Edition had a supplement detailing Arthurian legend, though for the life of me I can’t find it.

But let’s start cracking on the 3rd edition books. Atlas Games’ Love and War isn’t necessarily about Arthurian legend, but it is about knights, particularly the romantic characterization of knights that is attached to a lot of versions of Arthurian legend. The book is built around the four concepts of knightly virtue (love, valor, piety, and loyalty), with special knightly orders and character options for each one. It expands outward into fantasy rpg territory a bit more by also offering race-specific concepts for knights, such as orders specifically for dwarves and elves.

Since it doesn’t have to explore Arthuriana, that also gives Love and War more room to explore knight concepts that other books here typically don’t; female knights, knight duos, fallen knights, etc. And as is standard for most of the books mentioned here, Love and War also introduces a variety of subsystems for a chivalric setting, including tournaments, piety, honor, and renown. Interestingly, one of the subsystems is courtly wit, which is a non-combat system meant to emulate the verbal sparring and social maneuvering present in stories about nobility and knights. Again, not Arthuriana, but recommended.

I’ve already talked about I, Mordred before, and it’s what got me thinking about this list again. Like I said there, I just feel like the premise of fighting an evil King Arthur alongside Mordred as the good guy just didn’t go far enough. If nothing else, Morgan le Fay should have been at least Neutral instead of still being cast as Evil. Really, everybody needs to be some kind of Neutral to really get an ambiguous setting of competing factions with no clear ‘right’ choice. Personally, I still want to see a version that goes super-hard with the alignment flip; paladin Mordred and white witch Morgan versus the half-demon warlock Merlin, his puppet king Arthur, and the death knights of the round. But then again, subtlety was never exactly my forte.

But this is where we get into the real good stuff, the books committed to Arthuriana. Relics and Rituals: Excalibur is the book of choice for if you want to plop a faux-Arthurian Britain into a high fantasy setting. It comes at Arthurian legend from a perspective that inherently has multiple races, high magic, and wandering monsters. You can play as not just a human, but a sidhe elf, halfling, dwarf, or even hobgoblin. Even half-orcs have made it in, though reflavored to be their own race of ‘Wild Man’.

Like most extensive themed campaign books, R&R: Excalibur takes an extensive look at what aspects of the base Dungeons and Dragons systems stays the same and what changes. For instance, some player character classes like fighter, rogue, bard, and paladin fit right in to Arthuriana, while other like the oriental-themed monk and the spell-slinging sorcerer are right out. (Regular classical wizards are still fine, though.) And, as is to be expected, there is a new knight class, though the author does note that it can seem somewhat redundant with the fighter and paladin still around, and its use is optional. There are a few prestige classes, with the one sticking out most in my memory being the classic Green Knight, complete with chlorophyll and resistance to decapitation.

There are a variety of essays encompassing everything from tournaments to the importance of knightly decor to honor and, perhaps most importantly, how to manage D&D’s vastly overpowered magic system and magic items into an Arthurian setting. There are no less than two pantheons, one Faerie lords and the other of this new-fangled ‘God’ fellow. Me being me, I mostly remember the chapter on how to treat different kinds of monsters; I was particularly fond of the idea of making the Fisher King’s cursed kingdom filled with undead trying to enact a danse macabre of everyday life, complete with skeleton farmers driving skeleton horses to plow barren fields. But again, that’s just me.

Relics and Rituals: Excalibur is definitely a worthy book for lovers of Arhturiana. But that’s the thing; it captures the spirit and tone of Arthurian legend, but not Arthurian legend itself. There’s definitely an appeal to it; something novel about the idea of jousting on a chimera, or cockatrice fights at the local fair, but it’s not quite the same. It’s high fantasy D&D stepping into Arthuriana, not the other way around. For that, for the real Arthurian legend lovers, you’ve got to get the real gem.

*Slaps top of book* This bad boy can fit so many knights in it. This is arguably THE book for Arthurian mythology in Dungeons and Dragons. Legends of Excalibur: Arthurian Adventures is a love letter to Arthurian legend. It starts with an incredibly brief summary of the history of Arthurian legend, from Wales to La Morte D’Arthur to John Boorman. LoE:AA makes it clear that it’s up to the reader to go research Arthurian legend for themselves; all the book can do is point them in the right direction. After that, it’s right into the content.

There are some pretty drastic changes made to the base 3rd edition D&D core rules before really setting in. The Alignment system is gone entirely, replaced by a character’s honor score. What are the character race options? Get out of here with that; LoE runs old school, so it’s human or nothing. What you do pick, though, is your starting social class, and that can make just as much difference as whether you have pointy ears or not. All the base D&D classes are chucked out except for fighter, rogue, barbarian, bard, and druid.

All that uprooting is fast replaced by a host of new character options. Legends of Excalibur is smaller than Relics and Rituals, but definitely packs more bang for its buck. The new character classes include the fool (with a special nod to Arthur’s fool, Dagonet), the hedge mage (new general mage/spellcaster), the hermit and the priest (for divine spellcasting), the minstrel (meant to represent more traditional Celtic/druid bards instead of the base D&D one), the noble (so that you can finally live out the fantasy of being rich and respectable), the robber baron (which is like the noble, but with more stabbing and shaking people down), the skald (another bard, but for vikings), the yeoman (Robin Hood/archer type), and, of course, the knight.

As if that wasn’t enough, there are a metric ton of prestige classes. Some are fairly bog standard, like the alchemist or berserker, while others are meant very explicitly to play into Arthurian archetypes. Remember how there was actually more than one Lady of the Lake? Now you can be one too. Merlin? Court mage. Morgan le Fay? Fae Enchnatress. And knights? Oh, you bet there are knight prestige classes here. There are no less than SEVEN knight prestige classes, including Quest Knight (specifically for seeking the Holy Grail), White Knight (to replace paladins), Black Knight (to replace blackguards/antipaladins), and practically every color knight in between.

Legends of Excalibur also offers rules for characters that advance beyond the standard level cap in the Dungeons and Dragons system, into the ‘Epic’ character levels. This is actually one of the reasons why I feel like Dungeons and Dragons can be a good fit for Arthurian legend. A character can start out as little more than a wandering soldier and advance to become as powerful as a demigod. While the typical image of Arthurian mythology is of a fairly low-fantasy medieval Europe, the actual source material, throughout its multiple incarnations, isn’t stingy about giving its characters magic powers, legendary equipment, and impossible challenges to face. While it still needs to be toned down to some degree, there is definitely room in Arthurian legend for the kind of superheroic powers that the Epic rules can bring. (Or at least as long as the setting keeps spellcasters to a minimum.)

This book isn’t just a guide to playing Arthurian characters, but the Arthurian world. There is a complete map of Arthurian Europe that has to reconcile Arthur’s given time with accounts of him rebelling against the Pope and fighting in the Crusades before Islam even existed. It’s a wonderful little detail, trying to account for everywhere that Arthur or one of his knights or relatives supposedly lived in or visited. Another detail is accounting for the the timeline; Legends of Excalibur designates five important time periods in the Arthurian cycle, from just after Uther’s death to the Golden Age of Camelot to the civil war with Mordred. Each period has different effects on not just characters, but the geography, people of the land, and magic. Try to go into the forests just after Uther died, for instance, and a character is likely to run into monsters like dire wolves. Go back when Arthur is on the throne, though, and the forest and its animals will be tamer. It’s a world very committed to the idea of Divine Right, and how a king affects the universe.

Of course there are monsters. There’s the standards; white hart, Questing Beast, though some more obscure monsters like a variety of werewolves are here too. There’s individual entries for monsters to describe their individual place in Arthurian Europe; chimeras and manticores are rare, ogres and trolls are common, etc. The real gem of the monster section, though, is giants and dragons; giants and dragons are staples of knightly mythology, after all, so they get special treatment. Just like people, dragons and giants are categorized by class and bloodline; a noble dragon, for instance, will have scales the color of gold and be the size of a castle, where a lowborn dragon looks like the wrong end of a snake and an umbrella. Naturally, there’s more Honor to be gained fighting one instead of the other. It’s a great system that reflects how, along with the King, giants and dragons are tied to the land.

But the cincher, the real hook that I think makes this book worthy of a true Arthurian legend fan, is the sample adventures and appendix. I, Mordred gave you one shot of teaming up with Arthurian big names; Legend of Excalibur gives you three. Fresh adventurers can help Sir Balin kill the invisible knight, possibly even averting the grail cycle by killing the knight before he reaches Pellam’s castle. More powerful adventurers have to choose sides in the civil war, and Mordred is once again an option. But my favorite of the three adventures has the player characters helping a young Arthur claim a castle. It would be satisfying enough to rub elbows with the likes of Merlin or Sir Kay, but then there’s a side-quest where young Arthur sees Guinevere and is instantly smitten, so he conscripts the players into acting as his go-between for her. Players have to deliver Arthur’s notes Guinevere. They can read the love poems he writes for her; they’re awful. It’s just such a wonderful little detail that it’s hard not to love it.

And then, finally, there is the appendix; a whole cast of Arthurian characters statted out. It would be impossible to cover EVERYONE, but Legends of Excalibur makes a fair effort. LoE remembers some characters that typically get left behind; Dagonet, Morgausse, Sir Bors, etc. Some characters, such as Arthur, are presented at different stages in their life. All-in-all it makes a good roundout for what I’d call easily the best book about Arthurian legend in Dungeons and Dragons, if not one of the best tabletop roleplaying.

If you scanned past all that; this is the book to get for Arthurian legend in D&D. Legends of Excalibur is the beginning, middle, and end of the argument for Arthuriana with tabletop roleplaying. Even if you don’t play 3rd edition, or even D&D, it’s still a valuable resource in converting Arthurian Europe into a tabletop fantasy setting. The only way you could get more in-depth is if you made an entire RPG about Arthurian legend.

But maybe let’s talk about that some other time, huh?

#arthurian mythology #arthurian legend #dungeons and dragons #king arthur #arthuriana #long post

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yeats-infection · 6 years

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happy monday everyone

@zielenna liked my original post about this story this morning so it came back to my mind... this is another one that i’m not sure will go anywhere (sorry this keeps happening to me lately) so i’m going to share it here. the story where remus doesn’t find out sirius is innocent until years after the fact, as he’s monitoring radio transmissions in siberia...

He woke up in the sound which heralded an oncoming transmission and which was all around him. The space heater had switched off which meant the power had gone out as it was wont to do this time of year and the cigarette between his first two fingers had extinguished itself a few millimeters from the skin, which was burnt there anyway and turned yellow from years of this. The digital clock was blinking bright radium green across the darkened room. What with the blood and bile switching places as soon as he lifted his head he was obliged to bury his head in the trash and vomit and after that obliged to use the time turner to go back to the beginning of the transmission because he had missed the first thirty seconds of it. Once it was finished and he had copied it down he took the big bulky engineer’s headphones off and unplugged the jack so the sound would reverberate throughout the tiny room. Then he got up and put the heater back on and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

By his watch it was ten in the morning and outside it was pitch dark. He had been out til three drinking and then he had come back and rewound the night like a bad video so as to listen to the broadcasts he had missed. In process of this he had fallen asleep. Lo and behold there were a few messages transcribed from the wee hours in a scarcely legible hand which he would have to rewrite before sending to the old man. And there was no food in the house.

With all the oilcloth layers on and warming charms inside the coat he dared to go out through the apartment building’s airlock into the endless winter night for bread and eggs and orange juice and and cigarettes purchased at the grocery on credit. So too was the fifth of shitty near-blinding vodka from the liquor store purchased on credit, because Dumbledore could rarely get his shit together to send rubles instead of Galleons (or, for that matter, instead of the Russian wizarding coinage, zlat, which was as freely exchanged in town as any other form of currency) even when an owl could survive the flight from Scotland. The day-night was a dense black lit by the neon from the basements and there were no stars nor moon.

At home the kettle had boiled dry and filled the tiny two-room flat with steam. Between the rumpled never-made bed and the window jammed with towels in the cracks against the draught the machinery on the desk was braying another signal and another and another necessitating of course the rewinding of time itself again. It was December 10, 1994.

By the precise count of days he had arrived in Dikson just over thirteen years previous. He had still been off his head when Dumbledore had bailed him from the Muggle drunk tank in Hackney and shoved him bodily in the Floo with little explanation. He was deposited in the two-bedroom flat which at that time had been abandoned a few years to the point that snow had blown in onto the floor through the draught in the window. Everything froze. It became immediately clear that every moment spent asleep must be re-experienced to monitor the transmissions for important messages. It became rather less immediately clear that this was the pastime of every other person who lived in Dikson and was neither an oil company speculator nor a laborer at the docks nor an anti-communist in hiding nor some other more sinister variety of hunted hustler.

It was explained to him by the old man, who had visited via the Floo on occasion in the beginning. The site had been monitored since the early sixties by undisclosable entities at the Ministry of Magic but the sitter had been pulled late in the seventies for reasons which were also undisclosable and thus most certainly involved war-induced psychosis. The old man had asked Remus how familiar he was with magical theory and even when he had answered not very had given a florid academic spiel which probably required advanced degrees from Oxford, Cambridge, and Harvard’s MT departments to decipher. The comprehensible piece of it was that the nuclear bomb test in 1961 across the Gulf of Ob on Severny Island seemed to have “torn” something as yet inconceivable in the magical fabric of the world and that this “tear” allowed essentially for particularly large works of magic performed anywhere in the world to be detected and monitored. Namely, works of magic performed by ten or more people, which in most nations were supposed to be reported before execution to units of magical governance (with exceptions, of course, for emergency circumstances). The machinery had been patented in 1965 by a professor at a magical college in rural Massachusetts who had gone on to attempt to create a similar “tear” between life and death by less atomic means and was summarily executed by an MLE squad in his office, but Remus learned this himself in the mid-eighties during a brief period where he owl-ordered radicalist pamphlets from around the world, kind of jealously, back when he read, back when he meticulously ordered new tapes and books and newspapers and tried to keep abreast of reality as best as one could when one was obliged to live every day and night several times so one did not miss even a single iota of relevant information; after all, as the old man had reminded him, time and time again, this was where they would see it when it happened, because the restoration of the creature to a human body would necessitate a masterwork of spellcraft, and because they knew it could be detected they would not perform it until it was necessary, until they were prepared, and until other magics, which might also present themselves, had been undertaken for security; in short, it was necessary for every apocalyptic reason that had been invoked all-too-convincingly in the late seventies that Remus must be the very first non-Death Eater in the world to know that Voldemort had risen again.

The American oil company speculator was in the dingy bar in the basement of the apartment block across the snow- and wind-swept street drinking tea and a little of the proprietor’s (she was really just the landlady) chest-loosening grog distilled in clay drugs in her upstairs closet. “John,” said the speculator with some surprise when Remus came in the door and took his hood off. It was the name by which most people in town knew him.

“Good morning.”

“I thought by now certainly you would’ve moved on,” said the American. He wasn’t very tactful and also he was a Muggle. It was clear he understood something was afoot in Dikson but also clear he thought this something was related to exploitable resources everyone else was aware of except himself. It was also clear that his memory had been altered numerous times by magical means (more than once by Remus) because certain topics of conversation caused him to go a little cross-eyed.

Remus sat down and the proprietor brought him a mug of tea and another ceremonialish blue ceramic cup of the rank liquor. “How’d you even get here.”

“Bummed a ride off the guy who supplies the grocer.” He always came up at strange times in attempt to catch them in the act, as though the residents were sober or organized enough to attempt some grand scheme. He had been doing this for a few years to no avail but still he attempted. At first Remus had thought he was some kind of spy, but he was by no means intelligent enough. “The weather’s been bad,” he went on. “We nearly turned back more than once.”

“The winds.”

“What?”

“It’s the winds. The winds have been bad.”

“Right.”

Outside presently they were howling at a pitch which vibrated the cord of omnipresent migraine at the back of Remus’s skull exactly wrong. He shot back the entire cup of liquor. It was like diving into very cold water except it was almost unbearably hot. It scoured everything out, which was the point. He required the scouring out to go about any sort of business at all. It had been this way since ’86 or so. By that time it had been technically ten years. The landlady brought over another and this time it smelled almost good, like licorice. “I’ve never understood how you drink that stuff,” said the American.

“You get used to it.”

“I still prefer vodka.”

“It doesn’t put hair on your chest,” said Remus, which was pointed. “I’ll have yours then.”

Others arrived. Vodka fresh from the liquor store down the street was circulated amongst those who couldn’t stomach the wardrobe moonshine. The proprietress had a single vinyl record, Bobbie Gentry’s Local Gentry. The oil company speculator was from a moneyed Texas family with dark secrets and claimed kinship with this music in a way that convinced no one. Remus’s mother had always preferred Patsy Cline and Dusty Springfield, which she had spun on vinyl in the kitchen whilst chain-smoking and making weird gelatins for assorted dismal parties. A French witch who clearly monitored transmissions from the tear for the Ministere du Magie and yet had claimed to Remus for ten years that she was a tracker of seabirds danced alone in the well-worn floorboards until one of the town’s numerous drunks got up to shufflingly join her.

In this town cabin fever was year-round and strictly enforced by the murderous cold. The notion of time was meaningless to all, especially in the winter, even to those who didn’t complicate it with assorted experimental magical devices. The entire world might’ve ended outside and they would only know if it were indicated in the spells that came through the tear. And the Muggles wouldn’t know at all. At six in the morning Remus and the oil company speculator went stumbling across the street and through the frigid airlock and up the stairs divesting the numerous insulating layers and into Remus’s flat where he explained for the nth time that the quantity of equipment and wires existed for the purpose of monitoring Soviet radio transmissions but that this information must be kept absolutely secret. He was about to offer they smoke half a precious joint to get the speculator’s mind off the monitoring devices but instead a tiny glass vial containing unmarked blue pills was produced from the breast pocket of the speculator’s flannel shirt. “What are those,” Remus asked.

“I don’t really know. Want to find out?”

It was ecstasy or something. Time was further complicated by a jarring sweaty step forth and sideways. He woke up with the sound to find the speculator gone, as was customary. He copied down the transmission and recorded the time (11:26am) and put all the layers back on — his hat was in the stairwell — and went out to walk in the street down to the docks. It was pitch black outside. In the dregs of the high he couldn’t stop moving his eyes. The long black water and the scouring wind driving sculptural frozen forms against stacked shipping containers, some of which contained (Remus knew) witches and wizards from obscure nations and their requisite monitoring equipment. Thousands of miles across the wide ice-bound bay invisible to the naked eye was the open thing, breathing truth, which had brought them all here, to this unlivable place, to watch it, as though it might not move when watched, as though it might not grow, as though it might even close if guilt were effectively applied, as though what came through it might be stopped before it did. Rather the same way, he sometimes supposed, Muggles felt about the thing which had created the tear in the first place.

At first he had done a great deal of thinking about the wound, which he soothed with alcohol and sleep and whatever drugs were offered or available, with painful music, with upsetting literature, with analytical writings about the war then in vogue in numerous wizarding publications, which he ordered by owl… He had the feeling that the wound must’ve healed badly, because it wasn’t really healed at all, so he tried to open it back up and see if then it would heal again, and when it didn’t he thought he should’ve understood this to be obvious. There was no healing the wound (time, after all, was the only thing known to reliably heal wounds, and there was no time in this place), there was only soothing it, and eventually nothing would suit to soothe it anymore except drinking, and finally even that sputtered out and failed, but by that point it was its own wound. He felt that his functional mind was only accessible if first he filled a well and swam to the bottom of it.

When he had first arrived, he hadn’t left the flat for weeks, until the transmission monitor from Bhutan, Sangay, came up from her shipping container and invited him over for tea. This was complicated by the fact that he had no winter wear appropriate for the conditions outside; they were obliged to borrow this from Manuel, the Salvadorian monitor, who was shorter than Remus, necessitating magical tailoring, and who disappeared in the permafrost five years later in an apparent suicide. They huddled together under the heat lamp in Sangay’s trailer smoking a joint and talking politics. “No one will tell me what happened in your country,” said Manuel.

“What ever happens. Powerful Dark wizards appeased by our Ministry until they attempt a coup.”

“Similar is underway in Thimphu,” Sangay said. “Similar is underway all over the world all the time.”

“It’s a sort of reactionary cycle,” Manuel said. “There are psychological studies. It will occur regularly in wizarding nations at any stage of development every twenty-five years or so.”

He understood they were trying to make him feel better. After all in the abstract there had been nothing particularly terrible about the British war. This was a common conclusion of the analytical papers. In 1985 the Sanguicrat party assumed control of the American Magical Congress, and the American transmission monitor, Rachel, disappeared in the middle of the night. Manuel claimed to have received an owl from her where she was in hiding in the Caribbean. Sangay was eventually summoned back to Bhutan to assume an evaluative role in a Truth and Reconciliation Commission established after the attempted Thimphu coup she’d been eyeing when they first met in 1981. He never told them any of the particulars.

Now that he had Manuel’s spare suit he went walking sometimes. He turned twenty-two and Sangay and Rachel made him a cake. While they ate it in the kitchen listening to American AM radio refracted off the curve of the earth he excused himself and sat on the edge of the bathtub watching himself in the mirror and trying to cry. The last thing he’d thought was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him was that Sirius had had a photobooth strip of the two of them in his wallet even after it all went to shit. It was from the Brighton Pier, ’78, August (it was always August), he had been having this inescapable feeling that he should be preparing for school, but school was over, over forever; he woke up in the uncomfortable hostel bunk beds each morning before Sirius did and walked in the street and along the beach listening to Quadrophenia on cassette feeling that of course something would have to break, not entirely certain what that thing was. The photobooth strip seemed to him later, when he noticed it in Sirius’s wallet as they were getting on the Tube together, summer 1981, like evidence of Sirius’s tendency to tell himself stories which proved his own martyrdom and supported his theories that his feelings were the largest and realest ever had by anybody. Remus had had a copy too but had torn it up the first time they’d broken up like any sensible person would.

At first he had tried to rig the monitoring equipment with his cassette player so that it might record transmissions while he was out or sleeping but this failed and Dumbledore cautioned him against it on one of his not-infrequent unannounced visits before Remus blocked off the Floo. At first he monitored particularly carefully transmissions preceded by the tones which indicated their provenance in the United Kingdom in case they contained evidence which had been missed. He collected this evidence obsessively and ordered materials from the Ministry. He went over Sangay and Rachel and Manuel’s notes from 31 October 1981 which had been a nothing day in their imaginations and rewound days after days with the time turner to research and re-listen and organize a case to present to the old man which indicated, at the very least, a reasonable doubt that things had gone the way they’d been explained. He presented this information to the old man in the late summer of 1982. He had reviewed it in silence at Remus’s desk as Remus sat on the floor with the headphones on recording transmissions, of which there were many that day due to a conflict among rival magical cults in Estonia. “Dear boy,” said the old man, closing the file, with symbolic finitude, closing the file on a man’s life, and on the yearning little blooms of Remus’s fragile hope, “he confessed.”

“I know — but I thought — ”

“I can show you the memory. Do you want to see it?”

They went in the kitchen. The old man winnowed the silver thread of it from his skull into the only clean bowl Remus had, which was chipping around the rim. Then he sat down at the kitchen table expectantly, so Remus went in the other room and sat cross-legged in the bed. It took him about twenty minutes to gather the wherewithal to chase his finger around the bowl and catch the edge of the memory and lift it to his forehead. Afterward the old man came in and took the memory back again. He had gotten up from the table and watched in the door. Remus kept it together until he left and even then for a little while, because Sangay came over and made lunch, and then he said he would walk her back to her place, and then he walked alone along the shore into the evening summer lightness, along the spits and points and spills of rock scarring the long dark shore and the long bright-grey sky. After a while he started running. He ran as fast as he could, lungs burning in the chill air, until he tripped and fell and skinned a knee and both palms in the rough earth. When he tried to stand he was dizzy and bent double and puked. At last he limped back to town. It was getting dark again. He realized he was terrified of the winter coming again. He had thought, perhaps, that they would have called him back by now — that the punishment might be temporary. That it might ever really be over.

The force of his grief somehow surprised him once more. He woke up one afternoon not long following in Manuel’s trailer. “You nearly drank yourself to death again,” said Manuel.

His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. When he sat up he could feel distinctly that his blood was mostly alcohol, because it felt cold and very thin inside him. “Again?” he rasped.

“You wouldn’t remember the first few times.” The tone sounded indicating a transmission and Manuel put his headphones on. “The girls are coming over soon with soup.”

Long ago, he had done the necessary research via the University of Edinburgh’s owl-order library program and had identified the most likely Dark spells that would be used when the hour came round at last. These were listed on a sheet of paper tacked up on the wall above his desk, beside the list of approved multi-person magic performances which was sent to him by owl or Floo (depending on the season) each week by the Ministry’s Department of Spell Regulation. These were almost always spells for cleaning or restoration performed by museums, realtors, or maintenance companies. Otherwise they were undertaken in academic settings, for research purposes, or for undisclosed defense purposes; these were usually heavily censored, because after all Remus was in Soviet Russia.

#my fic #rs #wolfstar

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ezilyamuzed · 6 years

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The New Kid

Summary: Reader is a 10-year old kid that often has trouble fitting in with others because she is seen as different. She meets two different people in a short period of time that seem to get it. To get her.

Warnings: Fluff. Brief playground violence. Bullying.

Setting: 1989.

A/N: Started as a completely random one shot, however realized that this can squeeze itself somewhere along the “There’s no place like home” series since that has been the focus of my thoughts as of late. Please excuse any grammatical errors since I am human. Any feedback is always welcomed!

*The picture is not mine, it came from google. Not trying to violate any copyright laws!

It was sunny Saturday afternoon as you laid, sprawled out coloring in your mom’s office. She was busy grading papers on the History of Norse Mythology. You doodled the stories she had often told you as bedtime stories. Thor with his mighty hammer and lightning. The goddess Freya with her cats. Character’s you knew all too well that you could have probably aced the college level exam although you were only 10 years old. A knock on the door brought both of your attentions to the doorway.

“Dr. Y/L/N?”

An older man walked in with dark hair that had little flakes of grey starting through the sides with scruff to match. He was wearing a beat-up leather jacket over top of a plaid flannel and denim jeans. He looked nervous as he saw you laying on the floor.

“Yes, how can I help you Mr.?” your mother replied.

“John ma’am,” he stated. “I some questions you might be able to help me with. A friend told me that you were the best at this kind of thing... Bobby.”

Your mother’s eyes widen as her breathing slowly decreased. “Y/N, why don’t you go see if you can go play with Dr. Brown’s mice again sweetie?” she said while looking down at you from her desk.

“But mom…” you started to argue.

“Y/N, out now,” she snapped.

You got up slowly while scrunching up your nose to her. She was mad, so you knew that you should follow her orders although you’ve been in her office plenty of times when people came in with questions. They usually didn’t even give you a second look as you typically hid off to the side.

You looked up to the man as you walked past. His dark hazel eyes watching you closely with sadness in them, like he knew a secret. You turned the corner out of the office to move down the hall as you heard his voice speak up while closing the door. “Does he know?”

You didn’t want to play with Dr. Brown’s lab mice again. The last time Luci bite you hard. Raph would often just sit there. Gabes would run around like a maniac, and Mikey would attack the other mice around him if he didn’t have your undivided attention. You opted to go outside and sit along the steps to the building instead. The college kids were all busy in their own conversations about papers and tests coming up as they all walked past in a hurry. Some of them that knew you would give you a friendly smile and wave. This was your home. After about twenty minutes the door behind you opened slowly as the man strolled past you down the stairs.

“You get everything you needed mister?” you asked politely.

He turned his head to you and gave you a sheepish smile. “Yeah, kid. Your mom is really helpful.”

You bit your lip nervously before asking him the question you were dying to know. “You’re going after monsters aren’t you?”

He was pushed back in shock at your bluntness. He rubbed the back of his head nervously before responding. “Where did you get that idea kid?”

You shrugged up your shoulders quickly. “You’re not the first one who has come to my mother to ask questions. Most of them usually have fake badges, but you look like the others who don’t care to pretend.”

He gave you a little nod as he walked over to sit next to you. “So how old are ya kid?”

“10”

“10 years old. Pretty young to be thinking about monsters being real don’t ya think?”

“I might be a kid, but I’m not blind. There are strange things that happen all the time. There aren’t many other explanations,” you replied while rolling your eyes.

“You’re pretty smart there. You must take after your mom. What about your dad?” he questioned while staring towards your face for your response.

“He thinks I’m crazy, but he is the crazy one,” you said while shrugging your shoulders again.

“I see,” he said softly. “It’s not an easy thing for a kid. I got two boys around your age.”

You nodded your head in agreement as he got up and told you to take care of yourself, maybe seeing you again someday. John, the one adult who didn’t call you crazy. The one adult who seemed to understand.

Monday morning in school was busy as usual. Classmates bragging about their weekends like they hadn’t seen each other in years. You didn’t even care to participate in the gossip and story sharing. They all knew what you were probably doing the last two days anyway, hiding in your mom’s office, probably reading another book on the supernatural. Going off on a shopping spree and getting new things that would go out of style the next week was a waste of time to you. Spending a Saturday night to braid someone else’s hair while talking about boys sounded like torture. None of it mattered in the long run. What you looked like, what you had, the group you hung out with, none of it would matter in the end. They were just things to fill the void for most people’s loneliness in the world. Although you didn’t really have “friends”, you weren’t lonely. You knew who you were and you were okay with it. You were just different…

A new kid had walked in as the morning bell rang. Typical 10 year old boy with a round face that was covered in freckles wearing jeans and t-shirt that had an interesting charm laying from a black cord around his neck. As the teacher looked at the note he handed her, she motioned for him to sit next to you in the back. He nodded and slowly walked toward you with his eyes focused on the ground.

“Everyone turn to page 148 in the American Culture textbook,” you teacher said while turning her back to the class to start writing something on the board. The boy looked around uncomfortably as he sat down at the desk. Everyone was pulling out their books and supplies while he had nothing. You pulled out an extra notebook and pen that you had in your book bag and handed it to him. He gave you a surprised look as he gave you a soft thanks. His bright green eyes shined with gratitude. You nodded and pushed your desk towards his while laying your textbook open to the page between you.

The rest of the morning continued with you trying to help the new kid catch up. He was grateful, but also seemingly uninterested in what was going on. His eyes always focused on the door like he would have to leave again at any second. At recess instead of reading the book you brought from your mom's office, you decided to get to know the new kid. To make him feel welcomed at least since all of your peers didn’t seem to notice. It must be hard being a new kid you assumed. You knew it was hard enough being the weird kid.

“You doing alright?” you quickly asked as you approached his side while walking out to the playground.

“Yeah, just…don’t know how my little brother is doing. Also, my dad…not sure exactly what he’s up to,” he said while kicking the gravel around with his sneakers while focusing on the pattern he was creating.

“I’m sure they are fine,” you smiled.

“Don’t talk to that freak kid,” yelled a voice behind you. Billy. The sheriff’s 11-year-old son that was only an inch shorter than you, but at least 50lbs heavier. He had tormented you for the last year, ever since his dad caught you in the abandoned farm nearby. You had lied and said that you were just looking, but the salt, iron bar, lighter fluid, and matches found on you gave you away. You were up to something and wouldn’t flinch from your story although they tried.

“I can talk to whomever I want to,” spoke up the voice next to you defensively. Was he defending his new kid rep, or you?

“Freak found another freak to be her friend,” Billy taunted while bouncing his weight back and forth. He was making silly faces suggesting two people French kissing.

“Seriously dude, stop it. Alright?” You looked over at the new kid and saw that his face was getting red with anger. His fists clenching next to him.

“Get out of here Billy. Stop being a jerk,” you hissed.

“Y/N got herself a boyfriend…another FREAK!” he yelled.

POW!

You didn’t mean to strike him that his nose started to bleed. Well, okay you did. As he caught his balance his eyes filled with rage. He began to charge after you but was met with another fist, this time from your playground companion that sent Billy onto his back.

A smile rose upon your face as you heard your teacher screaming for everyone to settle down. She pulled both of your arms into the building while another teacher tended to Billy’s wounded ego.

“Y/N, I’m calling your mother right now. And you…” she said while glaring at the new kid. “I’ll be notifying your parents as well to take you home. We do not tolerate that kind of behaviors in this school.”

She left you both to sit in the hall. You leaned your head back onto some lockers while watching him rub his knuckles gently.

“You didn’t have to do that you know,” you said while nodding to his hands.

“The guy was a jerk,” he said with a shrug. “Anyways I don’t really care, I’ll probably move on to somewhere else by the end of the week.”

“Move around a lot?”

“Yeah, my dad does a lot of…on the road jobs,” he said while stretching out his legs. “So why did he call you a freak anyway?”

You rolled your eyes to his question. Why wouldn’t he, was all you could think. It’s not like you were like them…normal.

“I just don’t quite fit in I guess,” you said with a shrug. “Not really interested in talking puppets from outer space named Alf or playing on a game boy.”

“What do you do then?”

“Read mostly. History books, primarily about myths and legends.”

You’ll probably be some kind of teacher one day huh?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “My mom is a professor, so I guess I could stay in the family business.”

“Y/N!”

Your teacher’s voice made your whole body shudder as she motioned to you to follow her into the office. Your dad was probably already on his way, or even worse…your mom. You got up slowly as her eyes glared at you to hurry up.

“Guess I’ll see ya around then kid,” you said while looking back to him.

“Hey, Y/N,” he yelled. “I’m Dean by the way.”

“See ya around then. Dean.”

Dean. The new kid. One of the only people you had ever met that stood up for you. He hadn’t even known you, and he stepped in. He didn’t show up to school the next day, and after a week everyone else seemed to have forgotten he was ever there. The empty desk sitting next to you would often remind you of that brief moment when you had someone you would call a friend. Your Protector. Dean, the green-eyed boy.

Tags @waywardbaby @jaylarkson

#the new kid #theresnoplacelikehome #spn #supernatural #fanfic #spn fanfic #spn fandom #young dean winchester #young john winchester

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hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 7 years

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One More Day 10 years later

I know some people might be bummed by the realization that we’ve been living with the burning garbage pile that is post-One More Day Spider-Man for a full decade now.

So I’d like to make this post for people to look on the bright side of this sorry situation.

To begin with, we have Renew Your Vows.

This isn’t just a big deal because it goes some way to filling that big married/family orientated Spider-Man shaped hole we’ve had since December 2007.

There mere existence of this title and its success at the time of this writing is genuinely important contributors to the hopeful reversal of One More Day. In a day and age where some Marvel titles struggle to make it a full year Renew Your Vows has passed that milestone and so far shows no signs of stopping.

Now I preach caution. This is an out of universe title that just shook up it’s status quo, lost big name and popular writer/artist team in exchange for ones of comparatively lesser status, has a new status quo too similar to other more well known/popular characters and represents something Marvel have been shown to be institutionally opposed to.

So as much as we don’t want it to happen, enjoy the ride while it lasts and be prepared for the series to get cancelled sooner or later, probably within the forthcoming year.

But always remember RYV volume 2 and the original 5 issues have when you really grade them fairly been clear cut successes, both financially, critically and creatively.

All three of those things sing in defiance of Marvel’s basic contentions that:

a) An older/married/family man Peter Parker wouldn’t sell well

b) That an older/married/family man Peter Parker limits storytelling opportunities.

These sentiments are also to a lesser extent echoed in the ASM newspaper strip that has continued to depict a married Spider-Man throughout the post-OMD period, which carried additional weight to it since that has more direct involvement of Stan Lee himself, effectively demonstrating that Spider-Man’s co-creator opposed OMD.

But that ain’t all. However you feel about how they use her, Marvel have clearly demonstrated an at least basic acknowledgement that Mary Jane is a popular character in her own right which greatly helps the cause of reversing OMD. Just 2 years ago her brief appearances in Invincible Iron Man sent TWO issues of that title into multiple printings.

Furthermore let’s remember that ever since Amazing #600 at the earliest and Power Play most recently Marvel have teased the possible reversal of OMD or at least reunion of Peter and Mary Jane as a way to spike sales. And it’s usually worked. Equally they know that pouring salt in that wound gets the fanbase riled up, which in their deluded minds is a good thing.

Marvel KNOW there is a very large and very vocal group of Spider-Man fans out there who WANT the marriage back and they KNOW they can make money off of that. In fact they know that group constitutes the majority, hence why we never got a Peter Parker married to Gwen Stacy or Black Cat Secret Wars mini-series or continuation. And literally every poll ever conducted since 2007 (regardless of their legitimacy) has shown clear cut preference for OMD to be reversed/for Spider-Man to be married to Mary Jane.

That’s only a good thing for the cause.

We can even see some glimmer of hope in unlikely places. As controversial as Michelle was in Spider-Man: Homecoming if she is indeed (as many interpret her to be) a take on Mary Jane Marvel Studios is on some level feeding a mass pop culture incentive for people to know, like and indeed EXPECT Mary Jane in their Spidey media.

The 5 year long Ultimate Spider-Man cartoon, despite it’s poor quality, did much the same thing. Even if these also push a teenage Spider-Man they also push a Spider-Man for whom Mary Jane is clearly a part of his life. This goes even moreso for the much anticipated Spider-Man Playstation 4 video game where (to my understanding) Mary Jane is even a playable character!

Want some more good news? It seems two of the biggest and most influential detractors of the Spider Marriage are leaving positions of power. Dan Slott will end a 10 year run on Amazing Spider-Man and hopefully forever leave Spider-Man work behind him. His work was in fact the very first to mean spiritedly rub salt in the wound of Spider Marriage lovers and he has been strongly outspoken against the marriage’s existence and in favour of the need for One More Day. Losing his can only be a good thing for anyone who wants OMD reversed. We are also losing Axel Alonso who is also an opponent of the marriage and has been since his days editing the Spider books. Replacing his as EIC of Marvel is Cebulski who, based upon his work, is at least not actively opposed to the marriage.

Finally some food for thought.

Consider that sales of Amazing Spider-Man whilst better than the rest of Marvel are still lower than they were during Straczynski’s run when the market place technically was worse off, when there were not as many gimmicks and events artificially inflating sales and the Spider Marriage was both in place and promoted heavily/positively.

Consider that it is inevitable that the powers that be at Marvel comics will someday be replaced by those who are from a generation when the marriage existed and was promoted positively. It is also highly likely that these new people in power will be Spider-Man fans (and therefore likely proponents of the marriage) due to Spider-Man’s perennial popularity which (thanks to films, TV shows, video games, merchandise and a guy named Venom) reached new heights during the years he was married. During this period merchandise and wider media also promoted Mary Jane as Spidey’s key love interest (and even depicted her married to him).

As the current regime has so aptly demonstrated, there is a tendency for better or for worse (usually for worse) for a creative team to try and on some level recreate their childhoods with whatever characters they are working on. This more than anything was the most powerful motivator for OMD, not the nonsense about ‘creative limitations’. Joe Quesada and others within Marvel grew up on an unmarried Spider-Man and never liked the fact that that changed, and so resolved to change it back.

They felt this way in response to, at worst, a C grade Spider-Man story that (to them) upended the Spider-Man they knew and loved. Putting aside how mass Spider-Man fandom at that time felt very differently and were supportive of the marriage, it stands to reason that future generations who grew up with the marriage will feel the same way about what One More Day did to Spider-Man.

Only tenfold because One More Day not only retconned their childhoods, changed the status quo they knew and loved but also led to stories that actively took a piss on what they knew and loved. Oh and isn’t merely a C grade story but widely recognized as one of the absolute WORST Marvel stories of all time and unquestionably THE worst Spider-Man story across his 55 year history.

One way or another, sooner or later, that WILL be erased I promise you.

Want some proof?

Well for starters way back in 2008 former Spider-Man editor Stephen Wacker outright SAID that in 20 years time (the same time period the marriage lasted) One More Day will probably be undone.

But if you want something more substantial than that look at DC Comics’ history.

Acclaimed comics writer Goeff Johns and former DC EIC Dan Didio have made practically made their careers from taking DC’s characters in directions that reconstruct the status quos of their own childhoods.

But even more significantly than that DC have demonstrated multiple times an ability to course correct their characters even YEARS after they have been taken in controversial directions.

Hal Jordan became a mass murdering villain in the infamous Emerald Twilight storyline of the 1990s before around 10 years later Johns redeemed the character, brought him back to life and manoeuvred him into the role of the main Green Lantern in an acclaimed storyline.

In 2016 DC started to course correct their entire universe after rebooting it in 2011.

After making Wonder Woman unrecognizable DC hired her former writer Greg Rucka to return to the title and reinstate much of the continuity and philosophy that defined her character.

Johns worked his old tricks to have Barry Allan redeemed for causing the reboot in the first place.

But no example should give Spider Marriage fans more hope than Superman’s situation.

In 2011 DC took Superman from a married man in his 30s who staunchly regarded himself as human in spite of his alien heritage and made him a man in his 20s, who’d never been married and felt himself an isolated alien God amongst men. Lois Lane, his iconic lover, was demonized and pushed aside in favour of him dating fellow heroine Wonder Woman thus fulfilling the fanfiction shipper desires of many within DC editorial.

But in 2015 DC RE-introduced the old married Superman and even made him a father. Then they went a step further and had him live in the shadows within the main DC universe, watching his younger counterpart. Then in 2016 they took the bold move of killing off their new 2011 reboot Superman and replacing him with the old Superman. The Superman who now was approaching his 40s, who’d been married for years, had a young pre-teen son and came with a history that had (give or take) lasted between 1986 to 2011.

THAT was who DC made their main Superman, complete with old and beloved Superman scribe Dan Jurgens at the helm.

And it WORKED.

Sales and critical acclaim greatly increased on the Superman titles.

Then DC went one step further in a 2017 storyline where they outright ERASED the 2011 rebooted version of Superman and essentially within their newly rebooted universe reinstated most of Superman’s history dating back to 1986, effectively RE-canonizing it.

And again...sales and critical acclaim were in a healthier place than before. In fact many Superman fans have declared the past 2 years or so a true renaissance for the character.

DC’s decisions with Superman and it’s success bode incredibly well for the hopes and ambitions most Spider-Man fans have for the eventual reversal of One More Day and the restoration of the Spider-Marriage.

As bad as the past 10 years have been try to bear some of this stuff in mind going into the future.

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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Zack Snyder’s Justice League: DC Comics and DCEU Easter Eggs Guide

https://ift.tt/30U8leH

This article contains Zack Snyder’s Justice League spoilers. We have a (relatively) spoiler free review here.

Well, they finally released the Snyder Cut! Zack Snyder’s Justice League is now out in the world (and streaming on HBO Max) and it’s four hours of the director’s undiluted, controversial take on the DC Universe. It’s even more packed with DC history than the “official” theatrical release, if you can believe that, and it builds out the world of the DCEU in some new and unexpected ways.

There’s no shortage of DC Comics Easter eggs in Zack Snyder’s Justice League, and even nods to DC movies of the past. It’s a six course meal of a movie that DC superhero fans should savor, because we’re unlikely to ever see anything like this again.

We’ve tried to find all the DC references and lore in the film. Here’s what we’ve got so far.

The Story

While the Justice League have been around since 1960 (they first appeared in Brave and the Bold #28) the broad strokes of this movie are based on 2011’s Justice League: Origin (which was adapted as the animated movie, Justice League: War), the comic book story that revamped the team’s initial team-up for a new generation. The villain of the comic was Darkseid not Steppenwolf, but the Parademon hordes, the Mother Boxes, and the tying of Cyborg’s origin to Fourth World technology all come straight out of this story.

Steppenwolf DID show up in a contemporary story as well, though. A visually-similar version of the character appeared in DC’s Earth-2, which indicated that Darkseid’s attack on Earth was one that spanned the multiverse, and his lieutenant Steppenwolf ravaged a different Earth, killing its greatest heroes in the process. So that’s two big comics influences out of the way here.

Throughout this movie, Steppenwolf keeps on trying to bring about “the unity” with the three Mother Boxes, but as far as I know, that has no correlation to anything in the comics. If anything, Steppenwolf’s quest and the movie’s backstory has more in common with the Lord of the Rings saga than anything Jack Kirby did, with magical tech being distributed across the different races of the world to keep it from falling into the wrong hands.

Aquaman

Of all the characters in this film, Aquaman seems to bear the most of Zack Snyder’s stamp. It’s incredibly visible just in his eyes, which were “humanized” considerably by the time he appeared in his solo movie.

Snyder’s original vision for Aquaman was clearly something a little grittier than the gleaming underwater fantasy that James Wan brought us. The eerie “hymn” that the women of the village sing to mark Arthur’s departure is a haunting reminder of how these characters are seen in this world.

As Aquaman returns to Atlantis, we see a familiar octopus. Could this be Topo, comic book octopus sidekick to Arthur and famed for his drum solo skills in the Aquaman movie? I’d like to think it is.

Willem Dafoe’s Vulko is here, looking a little different and perhaps a bit less kindly than he did in Wan’s film. Interestingly, he refers to Arthur as “the king who would be man,” an inversion on “the man who would be king,” and a shot at Arthur for not taking his rightful place as heir to the throne of Atlantis. For his part, Arthur’s refusal on the grounds that the Atlanteans are a “brutal, petty, superstitious people” also hints at broader visions Snyder had for the character.

Comics

Aquaman: Complete DC Comics Easter Eggs and DCEU Reference Guide

By Mike Cecchini

Movies

Aquaman 2: James Wan Promises More Serious Tone, New Worlds

By David Crow

It’s interesting to note that Mera and other Atlanteans speak with English accents here, where they didn’t in the Aquaman movie. It’s a proud tradition of making alien races speak with an English accent, one perhaps most famous in superhero movies thanks to virtually the entire population of Krypton in Richard Donner’s Superman: The Movie.

Similarly, Atlanteans don’t speak underwater here as they do in the James Wan film, instead creating bubbles of air in which to communicate like land-dwellers. It’s pretty cool.

The song that plays when Arthur vanishes into the waves is Nick Cave’s “There is a Kingdom,” and its lyrics are pretty much as on-the-nose as you might expect.

Aquaman spearing two Parademons with his trident reminds me of this moment from Justice League: Origin, as well…

Is Aquaman the first person to call Bruce “Batman” in the DCEU? In Batman v Superman it was all “the Bat” this and “the Gotham Bat” that.

Speaking of Batman…

Batman

When we first see Bruce Wayne searching for the mysterious Arthur Curry, he’s riding a jet black horse, which is very similar to the steed he rode in some famous pages of Frank Miller, Klaus Janson, and Lynn Varley’s classic and influential The Dark Knight Returns, a work which has considerable influence on how Batman was portrayed here and in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice.

If you look closely you can see a 201 area code on Bruce Wayne’s business card, which further confirms that Gotham City is on the New Jersey side of the river that separates it from Metropolis.

This movie, like Batman v Superman before it, reminds us that we’re dealing with a Batman who has been active for 20 years. It’s yet another reminder of the influence of The Dark Knight Returns on the DCEU vision for Batman, depicting him as a much older, more experienced crimefighter.

Let’s just take a moment to appreciate how good Jeremy Irons is as Alfred Pennyworth. His line about “someone who broods in a cave” is classic Alfred shade (as is the moment later on when he is totally micromanaging how Diana makes tea). See also: Bruce’s joke about how he works for Alfred.

Bruce tells Alfred that he “made a promise to him [Superman] on his grave.” As we well know with Bruce and his parents, when he swears on someone’s grave, it’s a promise he takes very seriously.

Comics

Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice – Complete DC Comics Easter Eggs and Reference Guide

By Mike Cecchini

The Batman Animated Series You Never Saw

By Mike Cecchini

We meet Kobna Holdbrook-Smith as Crispus Allen very briefly in Gotham PD HQ talking to JK Simmons’ excellent Jim Gordon. Detective Crispus Allen was a Batman supporting character who played a significant role in the excellent Gotham Central series. While we don’t get any hint of his future here, Allen went on to become the human host of the Spectre after he was murdered by a corrupt colleague.

Barry asks Bruce incredulously, “you have a satellite?” to which Bruce calmly responds, “I have six.” It feels very much like something Grant Morrison’s Batman would say (he even owns a flying saucer), but it ALSO hints at the fact that for many years, the Justice League operated out of a satellite HQ. Perhaps Bruce would consider moving the team up there in future installments.

During the big battle at the end, there’s a terrific shot of Batman that mirrors his first appearance in Detective Comics #27.

There’s a pretty clear shot of the Bat-tank that is a very direct nod to a panel from Dark Knight Returns.

Cyborg

It seems like all the flashbacks to Vic Stone’s pre-Cyborg college days take place in 2015, so it’s after the events of Man of Steel, but he has only been “Cyborg” for a relatively brief period here.

Thanks to the backstory in this version of the film, we learn that Vic is already a genius level intellect. Although in the comics it was because Drs Silas and Elinore Stone were already experimenting on their son long before the accident that forced them to turn him into Cyborg.

Interestingly, the origin story here is neither the classic comics origin nor the New 52 version (surprising, since so much of this film feels inspired by the New 52 Justice League: Origin story). There, it was either an accident with interdimensional energy or the opening of a Mother Box/Boom Tube which virtually destroyed Victor’s body and caused the creation of Cyborg.

What is the Dean of GCU’s name? It looks like it might be “Dean Stanton” which would be a lovely tribute to actor Harry Dean Stanton (but there’s no DC Comics connection here in that case).

You may note that the scoreboard for Gotham City University was built by Wayne Enterprises.

It’s probably a coincidence, but Cyborg financially helps out a “Linda S. Reed.” In the comics Linda Reed was a short-lived Green Arrow character who (along with her twin sister Ramona) went by the uninspiring name of “Girl Archer.”

Since Vic Stone has traditionally been a Teen Titans character, and he and Barry are by far the youngest members of the League, it makes sense that they would bond. Especially since this version of Barry Allen has more in common with the comic book version of Wally West than anything else, and Wally was a member of the Titans with Vic.

The Flash

When we first meet Barry Allen he is late to a job interview. This isn’t just a play on “oh, the fastest man alive is actually really slow” or something, Barry’s habitual lateness was baked into the character in his very first appearance back in Showcase #4. Similarly, even his predecessor, Jay Garrick was known for this not terribly charming trait, too.

Interestingly, Barry’s persona in the DCEU feels much more in common with the Wally West of the DC Animated Universe. He’s the less experienced hero, a kind of point-of-view character, and generally younger and funnier than his teammates. But the more specific Wally reference is his need to consume tremendous quantities of calories to keep going (his “snack hole” crack), something that was unique to Wally among Flashes (but which was also utilized when John Wesley Shipp played Barry on the 1990 The Flash TV series).

That’s Billy Crudup as Henry Allen in jail (who sadly won’t be reprising his role in Andy Muschietti’s The Flash movie) The whole “hands on the glass” thing was done quite a bit between the TV versions of these characters, played by Grant Gustin and the great John Wesley Shipp. Henry’s line to Barry that he should “make your own future” would seem to foreshadow the events of Flashpoint, as well.

But there’s one other similarity to the TV show worth pointing out…

Henry is rocking the Jay Garrick look with the grey hair at the temples thing. With certain developments on The Flash TV series, this could also be an indicator of how things will be handled in the DCEU. I wrote lots more about Jay Garrick, one of my favorite characters, right here.

Barry notes to Bruce that he is fluent in “gorilla sign language,” which could come in handy down the road should he encounter a race of superintelligent gorillas who have started their own civilization or something like that.

Is Barry wearing a “Black Freighter” t-shirt? As in the pirate story that is woven through the Watchmen comics? You don’t need me to remind you that Zack Snyder also directed a Watchmen movie, right?

If you look at Barry’s desk, there’s a photo of Nikola Tesla there, which makes sense given Flash’s whole aesthetic.

One fun thing about Barry’s personal HQ: If you look carefully on one of the TVs, you can spot that he’s a Rick and Morty fan, and a particular season two episode, which involves a chemically-enhanced Summer and Rick beating the crap out of unsavory types like Nazis, is playing in the background.

It’s interesting to note that Barry is only now just on the path to becoming a police scientist, rather than already having been driven to do so. It’s almost like his time with the Justice League inspires him to do more with his professional life, as well.

The Flash TV Episode We Almost Saw

By Mike Cecchini

Stargirl Season 2 Will Put The Flash in the JSA Where He Belongs

By Mike Cecchini

It’s interesting that the Barry Allen of the DCEU is Jewish, if only because we’ve never had any hint of Flash’s faith (or lack thereof) in the comics or on the TV show. The closest Barry Allen has to any kind of religious or ethnic identity has always been “midwestern.” Brian Cronin at CBR thinks this could be a reference to a throwaway line from a late ’80s DC story, but I don’t necessarily think that’s considered canon. I’m open to corrections, though!

Iris West

We see the first meeting between Barry Allen and Iris West here. I don’t know the exact make and model of the vintage convertible that Iris is driving (if anyone does, please give us a shout in the comments or on Twitter), but it feels like it COULD be from the year 1956, when Showcase #4 was published. Similarly, the excellent and underrated The Flash TV series from the 1990s used to populate the streets of its version of Central City with vintage cars to give it a “timeless” feel.

Speaking of Showcase #4, the fact that hot dogs are among the things kind of hovering in midair thanks to Barry moving at super speed is another nod to the character’s first appearance, when one of Barry’s first super speed acts was to catch a spilled tray of food in a diner in mid-air before the waitress knew what had happened.

What’s the brand of fast food the truck driver is eating? I can’t quite make it out. It would be cool if it was a Big Belly Burger with a Soder Cola, but I think it might just be something lame like “Burger Shop.” Help me out, folks!

The truck that nearly kills Iris is for a company called Gard’ner Fox, a reference to classic Flash writer/co-creator Gardener Fox.

You can see a newspaper box for The Central City Tribune, which hints at the fact that Iris West is a journalist in the comics.

Superman

Martha’s dog’s name is Rusty, which I THINK is a reference to a briefly glimpsed pooch in Richard Donner’s Superman: The Movie. But I can’t fully confirm that as of this writing.

Lois Lane’s depression and loneliness is soundtracked, appropriately enough, to “Distant Sky” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds (Mr. Snyder seems to love the work of Nick Cave), which features lyrics like “They told us our gods would outlive us,” but there’s lots here that mirrors the journey of these heroes in the film.

The Daily Planet’s slogan in the DCEU is “reporting on the planet, daily” which seems a little on-the-nose to me, but whatever. It’s had several in the comics, but in Richard Donner’s Superman it was “Metropolis’ Greatest Newspaper.”

When the Motherbox generates the image of Superman flying, it’s a classic Superman pose this is. This is a really cool shot, and looks like a Curt Swan/Murphy Anderson drawing of the Man of Steel come to life.

During the return to the Kryptonian ship that served as the de facto Fortress of Solitude in Man of Steel (and which gives Supes his black costume here), we can spot the open pod that launched so many fan theories in 2013. A possibly no-longer-canon Man of Steel prequel comic that was nonetheless written by David Goyer implied that it was Kara Zor-El who was in that pod, and who has roamed the DCEU undiscovered thus far.

You can hear moments of Hans Zimmer’s truly excellent Man of Steel score at key Superman moments throughout the film, too.

Clark Kent was buried in a conservative dark blue business suit, with a red tie, and black shoes. That is the exact outfit that the comic book version of Clark Kent wore in virtually every single comic book appearance from roughly 1938 until 1986. Henry Cavill’s Clark was a little more fashionable in life, but not in death.

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When Superman wakes up, well, it’s not pretty. This scene serves two purposes, though. For one thing, it demonstrates how he is more powerful than the entire team combined, lest anyone think that Superman is lame. But his disorientation and raw fury are a slight nod to how in the comics and cartoons, at several points, Superman has been manipulated by Darkseid. While that doesn’t quite happen here, the role of Fourth World technology in his resurrection feels like it’s not a coincidence.

Clark “returning” to himself in the field in front of his Smallville home and being greeted by Martha Kent feels like an inversion of Clark leaving home in Superman: The Movie and bidding his mother farewell. He’s wearing a similar flannel shirt in both scenes, too.

As Clark completes his journey and “returns” to being Superman, complete with the cool new costume (more on that in a second), we hear the voices of BOTH his fathers, both Jor-El and Jonathan Kent. It’s yet another nod to Richard Donner’s Superman, when Kal-El was guided by the voice and spirit of his Kryptonian father when he first wore the suit. And, of course, his takeoff here mirrors his first flight in Man of Steel, completing his “rebirth.”

The black and silver Superman suit was a fixture of Reign of the Supermen, the story that brought the recently deceased Man of Steel back to life. In the comics, it was a kind of regeneration suit, meant to help harness solar radiation for Superman’s cells. It’s not clear if it is meant to serve that purpose here, since (as we see when he kicks the entire League’s ass) he was already at full physical (if not mental) power upon his resurrection. It’s been done several times in live action too, but it has never looked as good as it does here.

Amusing detail about the Kent Farm being foreclosed on…there’s already some awful suburban McMansion built right across the road.

Marc McClure who played Jimmy Olsen in the Donner Superman films played an Iron Heights prison guard in the theatrical cut of the film, but here he is the cop guarding the Superman memorial in Metropolis.

And the final true shot we see of Superman in the film, with Clark Kent becoming aware of trouble and doing the classic “shirt rip” is another iconic moment from throughout the character’s history, although it’s never better than it is in Superman: The Movie right before the big helicopter rescue. It’s worth noting that in the theatrical cut, Supes was back in the red and blue, while here he has chosen to stay in the black and silver.

Wonder Woman

One of the big takeaways from Wonder Woman’s intro sequence is that even mundane villains in the DCEU are cool, stylish, dangerous, and they don’t think small. These guys are the face of a mysterious organization who want to “turn back the clock” but I have yet to find a suitable DC Comics parallel to them.

Of course, the statue we see Wonder Woman standing on is Justice herself.

Diana’s white dress while she’s working on restoring the statue feels vaguely reminiscent of her “mod years” in the late 1960s, where she briefly ditched her primary colored costume to fight in something a little more practical.

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Wonder Woman wearing an appropriately stylish black getup when visiting Bruce in the cave kind of reminds me of Wonder Girl Donna Troy’s star-spangled black outfit that she wore for a little while…but that’s probably just a coincidence.

Diana tells Bruce that she “once knew a man who would have loved to fly it” regarding Bruce’s flying troop transport for the League. She is, of course, referring to Steve Trevor, but this line takes on a little bit of extra weight after we see Steve flying more modern aircraft in Wonder Woman 1984.

At one point in the film, Diana hints that Atlantis and Themyscira had been at war at one point in the past. This has been teased in the comics several times and came to a head in the Flashpoint comics.

There’s a cool moment when Steppenwolf tells Wonder Woman that she has “the blood of the old gods” in her veins. When Jack Kirby created the New Gods and the Fourth World, he was still working for Marvel. The original plan was for the Asgard of Marvel’s Thor comics to undergo a Ragnarok, everyone would die, and in its place would be these New Gods. Obviously that didn’t happen, and the concepts ended up at DC. But that one line, tying Diana’s Greek mythology roots directly to the cosmic New Gods of the DCEU, is surprisingly in keeping with Kirby’s original intention.

Ryan Choi

We get another hero snuck into the mix in this movie, in the form of STAR Labs’ Ryan Choi (played by Zheng Kai). While he doesn’t suit up in this film, Choi was the inheritor of Ray Palmer’s mantle as the shrinking superhero, the Atom.

By the end of the film, Choi is given the title of head of nanotechnology for STAR Labs, further setting up his future as a hero.

Green Lantern

While no Green Lantern remains alive for long in this film, there are plenty of references to the Green Lantern Corps throughout…

Steppenwolf promises that there are “no protectors, no Lanterns, no Kryptonian” guarding Earth this time, which is pretty self-explanatory.

This member of the Green Lantern Corps we see fall in battle during the flashback sequence is Yalan Gur, a character who has only made a handful of appearances in the comics. Gur was indeed the Green Lantern of space sector 2814 (that includes Earth) around the time this battle would have taken place. In the comics, Gur was corrupted by his own power and turned on the humans of Earth, but he clearly didn’t get that chance in the movie, as he was killed by Darkseid in the flashback.

During the vision of the future where Darkseid has gained control of the Anti-Life Equation, another dead Green Lantern can be spotted amongst the rubble of a ruined city. That would be of Green Lantern Corps drill sergeant and fan favorite, Kilowog. This is Kilowog’s second live action appearance, if you count 2011’s not great Green Lantern movie with Ryan Reynolds.

Darkseid

Steppenwolf tells the Amazons that he “has come to enlighten you to The Great Darkness.” The Great Darkness is more than just a reference to Darkseid himself and his entire philosophy, but is also a reference to what is perhaps the ultimate Legion of Super-Heroes story, The Great Darkness Saga, by Paul Levitz and Keith Giffen, which saw a long dormant Darkseid return to life to terrorize the galaxy a thousand years from now.

When Darkseid strikes the surface of the Earth with his axe, it creates the kind of hellish firepits that his homeworld of Apokalips is famous for.

Darkseid taking on the literal “old gods” of Earth including Zeus, Ares, Apollo, and Poseidon is a fun contrast with the fact that he is part of DC’s “New Gods” mythology.

Darkseid is searching for the Anti-Life Equation, which we wrote more about here.

During Darkseid’s “vision” of the universe once he has obtained the Anti-Life Equation, we can see Superman holding a charred corpse, which is presumably the body of Lois Lane. This apparently sets him up for corruption by Darkseid, and helps bring about the “Knightmare” vision from Batman v Superman, which is once again glimpsed at the end of this film.

The third figure we see on Apokalips with Darkseid and Desaad appears to be Granny Goodness, the chief of the armies of Apokalips (and the one who trained/traumatized DC heroes Mister Miracle and Big Barda).

Parademons

The weird insectoid drones making everyone’s lives miserable are Parademons, the foot soldiers of the planet Apokolips, a hellish world which lives in opposition to New Genesis, the home of the New Gods and Forever People. All of this great stuff was created by the brilliant Jack Kirby, by the way. Steppenwolf (more on him in a minute) and the Parademons are trying to collect three Mother Boxes left on Earth.

What is a Mother Box?

The Mother Box is the unifying piece of technology of Jack Kirby’s Fourth World epic. Think of a Mother Box as an alien smartphone that can do anything from heal the injured to teleport you across time and space. It’s pretty cool hearing their trademark “ping. ping. ping.” sound for real.

Mother Boxes are often used to call down Boom Tubes, the preferred method of transport of the New Gods and their friends and foes. We see them deployed quite a bit throughout this movie, obviously. Super Powers fans of the 1980s may remember that on Super Friends: Galactic Guardians, boom tubes were referred to as star gates.

It’s POSSIBLE that the knights burying the Mother Box are meant to be King Arthur and his crew, while the one with the horns could be Sir Bors. They relatively recently appeared in Demon Knights, but they were best in Seven Soldiers of Victory, where the Knights of the Round Table fought an invasion from evil Faeries and lost, only to have Sir Ystina, the Shining Knight, help save the world in the present day. Honestly, that sounds like it would be pretty up Zack Snyder’s alley too, now that we think about it.

Mother Box is cataloged as “unknown object 61982” after it has been discovered in the modern world. So far, I haven’t been able to find any DC Comics or DCEU significance to that number.

DeSaad

DeSaad is Darkseid’s chief advisor and torturer-in-chief (hence the name). Like all the other cool Fourth World stuff in this movie, he was created solely by the legendary Jack Kirby. He first appeared in Forever People #2 in 1971.

It’s kind of cool that the nameless “Motherbox priestesses” kind of look like DeSaad, too.

Steppenwolf

Steppenwolf is the first Jack Kirby creation to show up in a DC superhero movie (for comparison, nearly the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe owes its entire existence to Jack Kirby). They don’t really give us much to go on with Steppenwolf in this flick, but to be fair, he wasn’t one of Kirby’s most inspired creations and it’s not like he has the longest comic book history. In the comics, Steppenwolf was Darkseid’s uncle, and responsible for the war between Apokolips and New Genesis, but here he appears to be his nephew instead.

In a lot of ways, particularly his appearance, this version of Steppenwolf seems to owe more to his appearance in DC’s New 52 version of the Earth-2 comics than he does any of Kirby’s vision.

The weird little spider-y device that Steppenwolf uses to get information on people looks a lot like Starro, the first villain that the Justice League ever fought in the comics, right down to the way it attaches to people’s faces.

Martian Manhunter

We get our first long-promised revelation of Martian Manhunter in the film, who, as it turns out, had been masquerading as Harry Lennix’s General Swanwick the entire time.

Martian Manhunter finally revealing himself to Bruce at the end kind of completes Bruce’s journey from vaguely fascist xenophobe in Batman v Superman to someone far more heroic.

Martian Manhunter says he has “gone by many names” but doesn’t mention any of them. It doesn’t make sense why he wouldn’t have introduced himself as J’onn J’onnz (his Martian name). Other names he has gone by include Detective John Jones (not in the movies), and as we’ve seen in this very film, General Swanwick.

While we don’t get to see Martian Manhunter officially join the Justice League here, his presence in the film kind of completes the “unite the seven” tease that dates back to Batman v Superman. Martian Manhunter has always been depicted as a founding member of the team, both in comics and in the excellent Justice League animated series.

Deathstroke

We get a LITTLE more of Joe Manganiello’s Slade Wilson in this movie than we did in the theatrical cut…

In the theatrical version, Lex had summoned Deathstroke in order to start assembling a Legion of Doom-esque team of supervillains. But here it’s to give him Batman’s true identity. Apparently this would have helped set Deathstroke up as the villain of the Ben Affleck-led Batman solo movie, which would have featured Deathstroke dismantling Bruce Wayne’s life, Daredevil: Born Again style.

We see Deathstroke again during the epilogue where Slade (who is more of an antihero in the comics) has joined Batman’s ragtag group of freedom fighters against Darkseid and the forces of Apokalips.

Speaking of that epilogue…

Joker

No, your eyes do not deceive you, that is indeed Jared Leto returning as the Joker, marking his first appearance in the role since his controversial turn as the character in the Suicide Squad movie.

So…it appears that the “Knightmare” sequence in Batman v Superman wasn’t a vision of this movie after all, but rather for the Justice League 2 we’ll never see. And it’s up to Jared Leto’s Joker of all characters to explain this to us once and for all.

It seems that in a not-too-distant future, Darkseid’s armies have indeed come to Earth, and he is either in search of or has claimed the Anti-Life Equation, having murdered Lois Lane, turned Superman to evil (god, why does Zack Snyder love this idea so much), leaving a ragtag group of heroes and villains to try and set things right.

The death of Lois Lane at the hands of a villain turning Superman into a maniac feels quite a bit like the storyline of the Injustice video game.

Joker makes several allusions to having murdered Robin, which in the comics would be Jason Todd, although Snyder has hinted before that the dead Robin in question was actually Dick Grayson (hence, no Nightwing in the DCEU).

The notion of Batman and Joker teaming up in any capacity isn’t one with a whole lot of weight in the comics, but them coming together in a post-apocalyptic landscape with Joker acting as a kind of truth-teller for Batman is faintly reminiscent of Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo’s Batman: Last Knight on Earth.

Joker’s hints that Batman needs to die in order to set things right are reminiscent of Grant Morrison’s superb Final Crisis.

Lex Luthor

Lex Luthor’s escape from Arkham Asylum (side note, it has always rubbed me the wrong way that they keep Lex at Arkham…that isn’t where you put Lex Luthor) with a fakeout vaguely reminds me of how he escaped from prison in Superman II, which involved using a hologram to fake out the guard. The guard’s response to “Lex” not doing what he’s supposed to here is similar, too.

When we finally see Lex for real, it’s on the yacht, and his loud outfit is more than a little bit reminiscent of how Gene Hackman’s Luthor dressed as Lex in the Superman movies of the 1970s and 1980s.

Miscellaneous Stuff

Bruce returns to the ruins of Wayne Manor which he intends to convert into a headquarters for the newly formed Justice League. But placing a roundtable in a mansion has a little bit more of a Justice Society of America vibe to it…but that’s just a coincidence. However, we’ll be meeting the Justice Society in the upcoming Black Adam movie.

There’s a headline in The Daily Planet that says “Security Bank of Manhattan Sets New Architect.” No, this isn’t a John Stewart Green Lantern reference. Instead, it’s a nod from Snyder to the character of Howard Roark, the protagonist of Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead, a favorite of the director’s and a project he once hoped to adapt into film. In that book, Roark is an architect who is commissioned to work on the “Security Bank of Manhattan.” Draw your own conclusions about Snyder’s love for this book and Rand’s work, however.

That isn’t the only Ayn Rand reference in the film, either. The fishing boat that Aquaman rescues is called the Cortlandt, a reference to a housing development in The Fountainhead.

The place where Lois gets her coffee is “Fred and Ginger Coffee” as in Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Also, if you look really closely in the window of the coffee shop as she leaves, there’s a man at a table wearing a vest. I’m not 100% sure, but I THINK this is Zack Snyder giving himself a Hitchcock-esque cameo in the film.

The STAR Labs janitor who goes missing/gets eaten by Parademons is apparently named Howie Jensen. Whenever there’s a janitor in a top secret area working with alien tech in the DC Universe, my mind immediately goes to Superman villain, the Parasite. The most famous version of the Parasite was Rudy Jones, a STAR Labs janitor who ended up wallowing in some toxic waste (perhaps coincidentally because Darkseid manipulated him into it). Anyway, this isn’t Rudy Jones, so it can’t be the Parasite right? Well…mostly. There was a previous Parasite names Raymond Jensen…which seems to be our poor, doomed, pal Howie’s name in this.

When Bruce leaves Barry’s lair to drive to the Central City Airport, there’s an American Foundation for Suicide Prevention billboard that says “You are not alone,” a nod to the work Snyder has done to help raise awareness for their cause. You can learn more about them here.

During Darkseid’s vision of the future he wants, there’s a ruined Hall of Justice, the Justice League headquarters first made famous on the Super Friends cartoon and which, in more recent years, has become a fixture of the comics.

The pregnancy test in Lois’ nightstand is named, we kid you not, Force Majeure.

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Spot anything we missed? Let us know in the comments!

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robininthelabyrinth · 7 years

Note

"New writer ask meme: based on my body of work, what’s something you’d like to see me try to write?" like. you wrote a story within a /menu/ so you can take this as a prompt or just respond but. if you can make a menu compelling, what about something else. like a professor binn's history lecture, swapping in for the teacher and subject of your choice, but something where the students have fallen asleep five minutes in but there's a compelling story under the surface. idk if it's possible, (cont)

re: the hist lecture thnx for letting me know tumblr didn’t send it! can’t remember xactly what was in each ½ of the ask but short version: if any1 can make a dry lecture (note: not just any lecture, but a boring one), abt history or other, compelling, it’d be u. just as people say that x celeb reading the phone book could be cool, I feel the same could be true for u, which brings me to thing I’d like to see u write 2: a phone book story. idk how the flip it would work but it’d be interesting

————————————————————————————————

I think that my Makers of History fic might fulfill your first craving - it’s not boring, but it’s written in the style of a history textbook :)

That being said, your SECOND prompt irresistibly caught my eye.

It’s not a phone book, but I hope you still enjoy!

Fic: Central City Classifieds: December 2017 Edition (direct link to Ao3)

Fandom: Flash, Arrow, Legends of TomorrowPairing: Leonard Snart/Mick Rory, suggestions of unfulfilled Mick Rory/Caitlin Snow

Summary: Central City Picture News is a respectable news organization, with serious journalism, editorials, opinion columns, sports coverage, arts review, and international news.

So why does everyone keep reading the classifieds?

(Answer: because they’re hilarious.)

———————————————————————————————–

CENTRAL CITY CLASSIFIEDS - December 2017

New Business Opening:Super Tailoring: For All Your Superhero or Supervillain NeedsAsk for ~Leo~–New Business Opening:Supersuit Construction Corp.Super-suits for Superheroes, Supervillains, and More!Theme-appropriate nicknames included!Ask for C. RamonOur Motto: “We make proper supersuits here – our competitors should just go back to their stupid earth where the bad guys need suspenders to hold their outfits together.”–New Business Opening:Super-RepairsWe Fix Mistakes In Science Done By Supersuit Construction Corp.Ask for Harry W.–Announcement:All creditors to whom Harrison Wells owed money, please come to STAR Labs for a pleasant surprise. Ask for C. Ramon; he’ll direct you to the right place.–New Business Opening:TherapyVery Reasonable Prices – Sliding Scale AvailableFree to Superheroes and SupervillainsPLEASE YOU SHOULD ALL GO GET THERAPY RIGHT NOWAsk for ~Leo~

–Announcement:39 Surprisingly High-End Possibly-From-The-Future Toasters for Sale. No returns.Ask for B. Allen.–For sale, goods:One Cold Gun, barely used. Must go to good home. Must agree to take angst, hallucinations, budding drinking problem, and mourning of 30 years of partnership and marriage with you.–New Business Announcement:John Constantine – Exorcist, Demonologist and Master of the Dark ArtsIn Town for a Limited Time Only!–Wanted:Better security system capable of removing unwanted stowaways from advanced-future time ship. Call and ask for Sara.–Wanted:Any security system. At all. Please. Villains just walk in all the time.Call STAR Labs.–New Business Opening:Legendary Security ServicesBe Protected By the Legends of Tomorrow(no warranties apply, please ensure you have appropriate insurance before hiring)–Job Opening:Legendary Security ServicesSeeking Security Consultant – Superhero Experience WelcomeMust have Zambezi Totem To ApplyAsk for A. Jiwe and Z. Tomaz.All Time Periods Welcome.–Wanted:Any OTHER security system.Call STAR Labs.–New Business Opening:Colorful Light Show & Anger Management TherapyProcess Your Emotions, See Beautiful ColorsAsk for R. G. Biv.–Job Opening:Individual with meta powers wanted for long-term scheme against the Flash.Applications can be left by the statue of the Thinker in Central City Art Museum.–Announcement:Are you fucking kidding me?? Does that actually work?? – B. Allen.–Job Opening:New Mentor Figure. Must Not Be Evil.Harrison Wells doppleganger preferred.No individuals named Eobard need apply.Stringent interview process being implemented.Applications can be sent to STAR Labs. Honestly, just walk in, there’s no security system.–New Business Opening:Outdoor Wedding ServicesPlanning Your Outdoor Wedding? Worried About the Weather?Don’t Be!Call M. Mardon To Ensure Your Perfect Day!(Also available to ruin your exes’ wedding, but it costs extra.)–New Business Opening:Welcome to The FLASH Museum!Learn all about your favorite local Supehero in intimate, behind-the-scenes detail!Call: the H.R. Wells Estate.–Cease and Desist Order Lawsuit Filed Against the Flash Museum. C/O the Flash, STAR Labs.–While I’m at it, Cease and Desist Order Filed Against Local “Team Flashers” Club. It’s not funny! C/O the Flash, STAR Labs.–Wanted:Someone capable of making puppets in a wide variety of shapes and sizes.Preferably soft and capable of resisting impact; designed to be used in therapy sessions.Ask for ~Leo~–For sale, goods:Slutty clothing, barely used. Very reasonable price, just need to get rid of it.Ask for Snow at Star Labs.–For sale, goods:All clothing in my closet. Basically free. Need to get rid of it in revenge.Ask for Frost at Star Labs.–For sale, services:All the ice you could possibly want, no need for ice machine.Ask for Frost at Star Labs. Say that Snow sent you.–For sale, services:Under-the-table medical care. Reasonable prices.Feel free to report to the local medical licensing board afterwards if dissatisfied.Ask for Snow at Star Labs. Say that Frost sent you.–Announcement:Local man with flamethrower seeking attractive girl with ice powers for NSA good time while he is in the present location/time. Willing to annoy additional personality for free.–Announcement:Nice try. No.– Snow and Frost–Business Announcement:Therapy – now offering relationship and family counsellingAlso lessons in pre-planning, emotional openness, and honest communicationAsk for ~Leo~–New Business Opening:Ever wanted to swim with the sharks, but afraid or unwilling to pay for travel? Never fear!Swimming Lessons with King SharkReasonable prices.Call ARGUS for additional details.–Wanted:Secret room for plotting and/or emotional processing of grief. No spying devices allowed.If you have any locations, call John Constantine, Leo Snart, or Mick Rory.Payment available only in Earth-X cash, since the other two are broke.–Announcement:Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak are pleased to announce that they will be wed in a ceremony on the Star City Central Green at the end of this week.–Announcement:Another one?! Didn’t you two get married ALREADY?A Totally Not Bitter Central City Picture News Journalist–Announcement:Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak are pleased to announce that they will be renewing their vows at the end of this week, this time before a rabbi and their friends.–Announcement:You didn’t have a rabbi the FIRST time?Noah Kutler & Donna Smoak–Announcement:What the hell are you two doing filing a joint newspaper announcement???Felicity Smoak–Announcement:Answer us about the rabbi question.Noah Kutler & Donna Smoak–Announcement:They would’ve been able to use the rabbi we used at my wedding, but they got him killed.Frost–Announcement:That was MY wedding, not yours!Snow–Announcement:Best wishes to Felicity Smoak and Oliver Queen on their upcoming vow renewal.We’re sorry for accidentally setting your entire extended family on you.Team Flash–Announcement:Did you REALLY re-gift us the espresso machine we gave you??Oliver Queen–Announcement:It was on your registry in exactly the same way it was on ours.Iris West.–Wanted:Someone willing to obtain a list of ingredients, some very esoteric, without asking too many questions as to why. Speed of the essence – need to get all the ingredients before the next full moon.Call John Constantine, Leo Snart, or Mick Rory.–Wanted:An army willing to destroy the world and worship at the feet of GRODD.No need to apply. Just think the name of GRODD and we will come for you.–For Sale:Telepathy-Resistant Emergency Evacuation Devices, available to help you resist Grodd’s mind control long enough to escape. The newest fashion statement. Also, basically free.Available at STAR Labs.–Job Opening:Qualified therapists with an advanced understanding of ethics, client confidentiality, and self-defense. As many as possible. At once. This is so much worse than I could have possibly believed.Ask for ~Leo~–New Business Opening:Freaky Supervillain Carnival(Totally NOT a set up trap for the Flash)Come see the Dangerous MIRROR MAZE! The magnificent, nauseating WHIRLYGIG!Job opening available for a clown, preferably with teeth, to keep away certain unwanted old acquaintances.Call S. Scudder and R. Dillon.–Wanted:Surveillance method capable of keeping an eye on three grown men with the capabilities of John Constantine, Leo Snart, and Mick Rory (included for comparison).Something’s up, and Gideon’s not sharing.Must be compatible with 25th century technology.–For sale, goods:Exploding dreidels, for a ridiculously deadly Hannukah prank!Totally not the CCPD trying to trap the Trickster again.Entirely by coincidence, please call the CCPD if you’re interested.–Wanted:Young black men who for a variety of flimsy reasons are no longer currently engaged in active super-heroing except in awesome but sadly brief cameos.We’re making our own club over in Keystone.Call c/o W. West and J. Jackson.–Wanted:Bounty Hunter capable of tracking and eliminating that pesky C. Ramon for having made a crude comment at my precious and perfect daughter.Call Josh (Breacher) on Earth-19–Wanted:Bodyguard capable of protecting me from a crazy overprotective asshole dad who can’t accept the fact that we’re ALREADY SLEEPING TOGETHER.Female bodyguard capable of extreme badassery preferred.Call C. Ramon on Earth-1–Announcement:I, Josh, hereby apologize to my adult daughter for having sought to control her sexuality in such an inappropriate manner. She is free to date whomever she wishes and progress in her relationship at her own chosen speed.Please call off your Amazons.–Business Name Change:Legendary Security Services will now be known as Legendary Amazon Security.Because we’re just that awesome.A. Jiwe, Z. Tomaz, K. Saunders–Police Announcement:Will anyone with any knowledge of what caused that giant blue-green explosion in STAR Labs please call the CCPD immediately? Ask to speak with Detective West.–Retraction:Cold gun no longer available for sale following explosive retrieval process.Bill for all property damage may be directed c/o John Constantine.–Announcement:We are sad to announce that John Constantine has passed away.Please send any bills for property damage care of Zatana.–Announcement:John Constantine is not actually dead. He’s just hiding away on the Waverider again.Personal note: John, if I get one more bill, I’m coming for your balls.Zatanna–Retraction:The reports of John Constantine’s death are greatly exaggerated.We apologize for the inconvenience.He is, however, unavailable to accept any bills.–New Business Opening:Magic Tricks by Abra KadabraMention Harry Potter One More Time And I Will Break My Parole And Kill You All–Invitation:The Epic Len and Leo Welcome Back/Going Away PartyAll Welcome – Bring Presents(Puns preferred)–For sale, goods:One freaky supervillain carnival set up, barely used. Very reasonable price.Have to leave town ASAP because there are now TWO Snarts and that’s two too many.Call S. Scudder and R. Dillon.–Wanted:Seeds for Golden Delicious Apples, Golden Berries, and Golden Corn.Please send to Gotham City, c/o Lisa Snart.–Announcement:Lisa, why are you in Gotham? And what’s with all the plants???With love,Your Concerned Friends and Family

#dccoldwave #mick rory #leonard snart #barry allen #iris west #oliver queen #felicity smoak #john constantine #many others #my fic #Anonymous

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uwandapieceofme · 6 years

Text

Penny Dreadful

My love for things is few and far between, but when I feel it, it is felt deeply and passionately. I often go weeks or months, sometimes years, without returning to some favorite film, television show, or book, but when I do, I am reminded of just how special it is to me. Once more, the passion ignites and I remember; just when I was starting to wonder if I had not raised this piece of art to some too-high pedestal, just so I might have something to praise. After all, I am so oft consumed with apathy and listlessness that I cannot focus on any one thing for an extended period of time. I begin one film, show, or book, drop it within a matter of ten minutes, or a chapter or two in, and pick up something else, which is similarly discarded. It’s difficult for me to give myself over to anything when I feel so inadequate; anything I do take in seems proof of that, the characters, even if in a similar state of mind, finding themselves able-- either with the help of friends, family, or their own unfailing willpower-- to pull themselves from their stupor and set about living.

I find now that it needn’t be so. Instead of punishing myself for not being as these pathetic characters, and rising above my own self-loathing, I can see that they, too, have once been there, unable to see the end of the tunnel. It was only through the help of someone else, by some enlightening moment, or simply sheer refusal to endure their suffering any longer, that they were able to rise up and get on. Though I now feel helpless, unable to wrest myself from the clutches of my own melancholy, if I keep my eyes open, keep an ear to the door, I, too, can find my moment. I, too, can break free.

Take Miss Vanessa Ives, played by Eva Green in the Showtime series Penny Dreadful. At the beginning of season three, she is shown holed up in her home, furniture covered over in sheets, windows shuttered up, dishes piling up in the sink as flies buzz about overhead, flourishing in the dusty, stale air. When she can be persuaded by her friend, Mr. Lyle, to visit a therapist, her present condition is further illuminated. She has not left the house in some time, eating poorly, not taking care of herself, and avoiding mirrors, the shame at her sorry state making her unable to face herself. She ignores friends who might be able to help her; in a letter to Sir Malcolm at the end of the episode, she admits to having lied in her previous correspondence, telling him all was well when it was not.

Sitting upstairs in my parents’ house, shrouded in a blanket so as to cover my own shame as I ate junk food without enjoying it, smelling my own sweat and fearing the moment when my mother would return home and I would have to hide away, once more, in my sister’s room, I felt guilty. Why could I not be like Miss Ives? She was shown to have been in a similar state, though certainly her life to that date had been more eventful than mine, full of wonderful things of which she could be proud, lovers come and gone, battles fought, kindness shown to those ignored by others. Besides which, she was thinner and prettier than I should ever be, and more monied, too.

In this episode, too, we see Victor Frankenstein, who is alone after having found himself ridiculed by his cousin, Lily, who has now found a better, more suitable companion in Dorian Gray, who is a match to her strength and intellect. He has given himself over completely to his addictions, seeming himself to, rarely if ever, leave his home. His arms are bruised, needle marks running up and down. He has no purpose, now that he has accomplished his goal of bringing the dead back to life, and seen the horrifying consequences of his actions. He seems to believe he must live and suffer, refusing to take his own life when, in Madame Kali’s castle, his creatures surround him and make plain the truth of what he has done. If I miss the point, and it was not that he chose a life of suffering over suicide, well, kill me. But that is how I took it and I found it very relatable indeed.

He is, however, also pulled from his stupor by an old friend, Doctor Jekyll, who convinces Victor he can still get Lily back. As I have yet to get to episode two, this is as far as I can tell you, but at the end of it, he is still quite pathetic and doesn’t seem too terribly hopeful.

Having been able to force myself to leave the house, if only to venture to my only safe refuge away from home, the library, I was able to put some distance between myself and the self-loathing that is so oft my companion. I saw a new way of viewing the show, which is one of only a handful I can profess to love, no matter how long I go before revisiting it. It speaks of one’s inner demons, which is certainly something I am fascinated by. I often feel my life is my animal urges and nothing else, that I haven’t the ability to go beyond them. And yet, I do not fully give in to them. Thus, I find myself in a demimonde, to use the parlance of the show, neither shadow nor light. I cannot be all cruelty, or otherwise give in, unabashedly, to my darkest impulses. On the other hand, I feel wholly incapable of joining society, the thought of getting a regular job and making friends and adhering to certain standards of appearance too horrifying to contemplate. There is something in me, it seems, that wants desperately to be a part of that, but knows that it is not true to who I am, and besides, is incapable of playing the game, so it feels left out. I try to shun it, tell myself I do not really want it anyway, but avoiding it altogether is not the answer. I say it is nothing to me but I fear it, cower always from its judgment.

So, too, Vanessa wants a normal life but believes herself incapable now of having it. She sees that it is not the life she is destined to lead. However, without that desire to keep one going, that of God to keep her thinking that there is purpose to everything, she becomes depressed. How can she keep on, if the driving force that kept her going thus far has now ceased to work? So, too, if being like everyone else and having their success has shown not to bring happiness, if I find in myself a fault that keeps me from being as I think I must be to be deserving of love, then what do I live for? Especially when I feel I cannot remove myself from society, as John Clare. I tried, for a brief spell, only to realize that the pressures would still be there at the close of my journey, and that the real problem was within, not without.

So if one cannot remove oneself completely from society, and too, cannot live truly and honestly whilst adhering to its rules, how does one live at all? That is the answer I cannot possibly know, at least not now. I believe, however, that the characters of Penny Dreadful, might be able to impart some wisdom, if not at least show me a few possible paths. If nothing else then, surely, they can be my companions as I venture to figure it out for myself, knowing always that I am not alone in my feelings and my struggles, and wherever I may now find myself, I will not always be here, and if I keep my eyes open, even as deliverance today feels impossible, tomorrow I might find my strength, whether in myself, my family, or a fictional character.

#pennydreadful #depression #vanessa ives #victor frankenstein #inspiration

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somebodyhelpthenotdeadfreds · 5 years

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swear not by the moon, but by the stars

Hey, who’s down for a Harry Potter AU, with Constangreen-flavored WolfStar? About three people? @agentmarymargaretskitz and @incendiaglacies and myself. Cool, cool, cool. Ladies, enjoy this first part of what will be at least a three-parter:

Sara wiped her hand on the side of her robe. “That felt good.”

“That was awesome,” Ronnie grinned at Sara as Per Degaton was led to the hospital wing by his friends, blood gushing out of his nose. “You really got him, Sara.”

“Yes, you did,” sounded a stern voice, with the faintest shade of amusement in their tone. Sheepishly, the three of them turned to see Professor Gideon Ryder with her arms crossed, raising her eyebrow at them. “Why is it when there is an incident, it is almost always you three?”

“Honestly, ma’am, I think we’re just magnets for it,” Jonas offered as an explanation with an attempt at a smile, but it was no use, they all had to follow behind her back to her office for a lecture and a detention sentence. Jonas was the last in the duck trail behind her, accepting the door Ronnie was holding before him, giving a last look outside.

And caught sight of a patchy yellow-and-black dog sitting out by the oak tree they had just been next to, staring in his direction. Quickly, he stepped inside and shut the door, pulling Ronnie back to whisper to him, “I saw it again.”

That morning had begun a standard day, as standard as it can be with Dementors hovering around outside the walls. Jonas woke up in the morning, and spent his time working on the Defense Against the Dark Arts werewolf identification essay Professor Merlyn had assigned, and he had neglected the day before. Absently, he looked out the window, and saw the same dog he’d seen for the past three days. It was always looking in his direction, and always close enough by. It was staring up at him through the window, and Jonas hurried to close the curtain.

He chewed on that thought throughout breakfast, sharing his concerns with his best friends. “I think I’m being paranoid.”

“After two years with us, no such thing,” Sara said, picking up her glass of pumpkin juice. “So it never approaches you?”

“It gets close sometimes,” Jonas admitted. “When I fell off-”

“When Degaton shoved you.”

“When I fell off my broom and broke it, it got - close. It’s got a black spot on the left ear, that’s how close it was to me. It ran off when Captain Lance came to see if I was alright. I would think it would try to rush me if it wanted to hurt me, right?”

“According to Professor Darhk, could be a Grim.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “It’s not a Grim, that’s stupid. There’s a reason for it, we’ll try and catch it later tonight. Maybe it’s someone’s messenger.”

The next odd moment of the day was sitting in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Class time had not begun, as Professor Green was running late and Professor Merlyn has his back to the class as he read the morning paper. The students were quietly chattering amongst themselves until Professor Green entered the room, his usual style of disarray present as he rushed to the front of the room with his texts.

“Thank you for covering-”

“You’re late,” Merlyn said icily, turning around in the chair and standing up. He placed the pile of essays onto the corner of the desk and folded his paper back together.

Jonas frowned at the moving picture of John Constantine on the front page, eyes wild as any madman’s trying to claw his way out of the frame, prison number printed cleanly across the bottom.

Still no sign of him, according the headline. Three months on the run, and not a single trace of him anywhere. Jonas felt anxiety creep at his spine. If this man, who had been trusted by his father and mother, who had betrayed them and left them to Savage, was free and in the world again, was he truly safe?

But he put his own feelings of fear aside as he watched Merlyn hold the paper out to Professor Green, Constantine’s mouth open in silent screams and pleads towards an invisible audience. “I thought perhaps you’d like to read this, I’m finished with it.”

For a brief second, Sara noted the start of a frown started to cross Professor Green’s face, before he accepted the paper and thankfully folded it over so the face wasn’t visible. Then he smiled back at the other man’s cool gaze. “Thank you, Professor Merlyn.”

Merlyn scoffed, brushing past him to leave the classroom. Professor Green sat his paper and his case down onto the desk, eyes drifted over to the pile of essays on werewolves. That frown flickered across his face again before the usual smile broke out. “Well, I’m glad to be back to class today with you all. Please get out your textbooks and turn to page 144, please.”

Jonas couldn’t focus on his work in the library, and Ronnie was busy sorting through his Every Flavor Beans so it wasn't like he was helping. Sara, ever the level one, was sorting through old newspapers and yearbooks until she exclaimed in as loud a whisper as she dared in the library, “Look at this!”

She held out a yearbook page, it was open to the Gryffindor section. Jonas looked and saw his father and his mother moving in their pictures, Rip trying not to smile and mostly failing and Miranda pushing her hair back and smiling. But they weren’t who Sara was focusing on. “Look, that’s John Constantine and Professor Green, they were all in the same year! You said Professor Green told you he knew your dad really well, maybe he knows about Constantine?”

“But WE don’t even know anything about Constantine, Sara, all we know is that he’s a murderer and on the run.”

“YOU two don’t know anything about him,” Sara sighed, pulling out her notes. “Good thing you have me to do research. So, he’s from an old wizard family, but John was apparently estranged from them. At least, he doesn't appear in any family records after his third year at Hogwarts. I don’t know why.”

Jonas picked up Sara’s book on wizard lines, and started flipping through them. He flipped past Ronnie’s family’s page and found the Constantine page. Something clicked when he saw all of the green and silver and the small spot of red tucked in the bottom left corner.

“Look,” he gestured to the page, showing his best friends. “They’re all Slytherin. Every single one. Except - except-”

“John Constantine,” Ronnie finished, pulling the book closer to him. “But that doesn’t explain why he doesn't have any records past third year if we know he’s still alive, and he finished school.”

Jonas shrugged. He’d had so many questions since two years ago when he was told he was a wizard and been whisked to school away from Uncle Nolan and Aunt Delphine, and of course his cousin Theo. But it seemed that the more time he spent in the world he should have spent with his parents, the more questions he had about them and their lives.

After lunch that day, he chose to spend his free period doing extra work with Professor Green since he had had to miss it because of illness. He gave him a piece of chocolate when he fumbled the Expecto Patronum spell again. “I can’t ever get it right.”

Professor Green squeezed his shoulder once, offering him that smile that seemed out of place for a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. “It takes time, don’t worry.”

“But it’s taking me longer than it takes everyone else.”

“Jonas, it took me a long time to perfect that spell. In fact, I knew someone in my year that couldn’t perform that spell at all until their fifth year. Took them that long, but he got there in the end.”

Jonas nodded, playing with the chocolate wrapping in his hands as Professor Green sat back at his desk, working on grading Merlyn's essays.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, anything you want.”

“So, you knew my - my dad, yeah?”

“I did,” Professor Green tells him with a soft smile. “Very well.”

Jonas decided to cut straight to the point. “Did you know John Constantine?”

Professor Green looked up sharply from his essays before his gaze softened. “Why do you ask?”

“Just - I read the paper from this morning, you know? I - worry, I can’t help it.”

“I can assure you, Jonas,” Professor Green said, getting up to put a hand back on his shoulder, looking him in the eyes. “You’re safe here.”

“But I know he’s out there, somewhere.”

“You - you are safe on these grounds,” Professor Green reassured one more time. “And he’s not - he’s not here, regardless.”

Jonas nodded, managing to smile back at him. “Thank you.”

Now, it would have been a more normal day if Sara hadn’t gone off and punched Per Degaton for calling her a mudblood, but frankly, he had deserved it. So now, there the three of them were, Ronnie and Sara and Jonas, in Professor Ryder’s office and receiving a lecture on using violence when words will do.

“He used words against her,” Jonas helpfully pointed out. “So I think that in that instance, Professor, she shouldn’t be punished for defending herself.”

The corners of her lips tilted up. “That's an excellent argument, Mr. Hunter.” She opened her mouth to continue, but was interrupted by a sharp knock to the door, and Merlyn was asking to speak with Professor Ryder.

“Excuse us,” she nodded to the trio, stepping outside to have a word with him. They sat for a total of ten seconds before jumping out of their chairs and sneaking around for some kind of information they could find on Constantine. Jonas needed to know that he was safe here, and his friends were intent on helping him feel that way.

They really shouldn’t be snooping like this, but tucked away in the back corner, Jonas found a map carefully folded and hidden under years and years of old OWL exams. It wouldn’t open, that was the curious thing. He tried pulling it, it stayed firmly shut. He said ‘open sesame’, and still nothing. “Would you open for me, please?”

What are the magic words?

Still don’t get why it has to say that, mate.

It’s from a Muggle saying, you twit.

Don’t call me a twit, Hunter, you’re a tw-

Sorry, a prat, th-

Boys, stop! What they mean to say is you don't have the passcode, so you cannot enter. Say the code.

Jonas didn’t have a code, but froze with the map in his hands because of the word ‘Hunter’ and the handwriting on the phone picture of his parents he had, his mother’s handwriting.

“Whoaaaaa, guys, guys, guys, look at this!” Ronnie exclaimed. He pulled a picture hidden behind a pleasant meadow scene in a frame, revealing an image of teenagers lounging on the outside back staircase. Jonas’s eyes were immediately drawn to the couple in the left corner, the guy sitting on the rail, playfully pulling at the girl’s hand, and she was laughing at him.

His mum and dad. Younger versions, to be sure, but it was definitely them. That wasn’t what Ronnie was focusing on, however, as he excitedly pointed to the opposite corner of the picture.

Instead, it was obviously Professor Green, holding a textbook in his lap as he sat on the top step, his face was alight in laughter. That would be a surprise, as a younger, saner...happier John Constantine was leaning back against his thigh and blowing the smoke up into his face. He was laughing at the crooked grin on Constantine's face and letting him lean against him like they had no cares in the world.

To add to it all?

Professor Ryder, a slightly younger version, was messing Rip’s hair and moving back from his free hand trying to swat at her.

The trio was silent for a solid minute, then Jonas broke the silence for them. “Professor Green said Constantine was in his year,” he started, pointing to them in the corner. “He never mentioned them being friends.”

“Neither did Professor Ryder,” Sara noted. Ronnie listened to his friends, but flipped the picture over to read I solemnly swear…. before it trailed off into nothing.

Hurriedly, the trio put the room back together and were back in their chairs become Professor Ryder returned. After she finally released them after the lecture, they all scurried outside into the sunlight.

Sara broached the subject first. “So...what does this mean?”

Ronnie pulled the map from his robe. “We work on opening this, yeah?”

Jonas nodded. “We do that, we can figure out what their connection was and is to my parents.”

“What do you think it is?”

Jonas swallowed, fingers tracing over where the words had faded off the front of the map. “I don’t know, guys. I just - I’m worried that there’s something about Professor Green that I don’t know about.”

Sara’s eyes widened for a moment, and she opened her mouth to speak, and then seemed to change her mind. “I have an idea…”

#constangreen #legends of tomorrow #harry potter #the next gen legends #i hope you guys enjoy!

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techcrunchappcom · 4 years

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New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/nation-and-world-news-briefs-national-4/

Nation and world news briefs | National

Private jet loaded with weapons and cash stopped from leaving for Venezuela

FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. — A Learjet loaded with weapons and cash was stopped from leaving the U.S. for Venezuela over the weekend.

Seized at Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood International Airport were 18 assault/bolt actions rifles with optics, six shotguns, 58 semi-automatic pistols and $20,312 in cash and $2,618.53 in endorsed checks, a news release said. Air and Marine Operations in Fort Lauderdale seized the plane and a vehicle.

Two Venezuelan nationals were arrested but not identified by Homeland Security Investigations.

According to Broward Sheriff’s Office booking records, the pilots are Gregoni Jenson Mendez, 40, and Luis Alberto Patino, 36. Both were charged with illegally possessing firearms, and they are in the custody of U.S. Marshals.

Several agencies, including Customs and Border Protection, were already investigating the plane, the release said.

Notre Dame moves classes online for 2 weeks after COVID-19 cases more than double in a day

The University of Notre Dame is shifting its classes online for a two-week period in response to a spike of COVID-19 cases on campus since classes started a week ago.

The Rev. John Jenkins, Notre Dame’s president, announced the change in a livestreamed video for students Tuesday afternoon. It came after cases on campus jumped from 58 to 147 in just one day.

“We have decided to take steps short of sending students home, at least for the time being, while protecting the health and safety of the campus community,” Jenkins said. “For at least the next two weeks, we will move undergraduate classes to remote instruction, close public spaces on campus and restrict residences halls to residents only.”

Jenkins said the school, located in South Bend, Indiana, was prepared to send students home altogether but decided to try enacting a stricter trial period after consulting with the county’s public health department, which endorsed the move.

Notre Dame spokesman Paul Browne said students are expected to remain in their residences and take classes virtually for the time being.

“Traveling to various points across the country and back again is not helpful,” he said.

While classes are remote, students living off campus should stay there, limit interactions to roommates only and refrain from visiting campus, according to Jenkins. Gatherings larger than 10 people will also be prohibited.

“The objective of these temporary restrictions is to tame the spread of the virus so we can get back to in-person instruction,” Jenkins said. “If these steps are not successful, we will have to send students home, as we did last spring.”

Tuesday’s one-day increase marked the largest surge in cases since students returned to campus Aug. 3. At that point, only 33 of about 12,000 students had tested positive when they were assessed prior to arriving.

But after the first weeks on campus, the challenges became clearer. On Sunday, Notre Dame announced it was enhancing its testing procedures and planned to carry out surveillance testing of the general student population, in addition to athletes. The school also said it would improve the process for students with symptoms or known exposures to get tested on campus.

In that message, Notre Dame officials said the majority of cases — at that time, it was about 50 cases — appeared to stem from two off-campus events held Aug. 6 and Aug. 9.

Hornets suspend radio announcer who tweeted ‘mistyped’ racial slur

CHARLOTTE, N.C. — The Charlotte Hornets have indefinitely suspended radio play-by-play announcer John Focke after a tweet he sent Monday included the N-word.

“The Charlotte Hornets are aware of the recent social media post by radio broadcaster John Focke. As an organization, we do not condone this type of language,” the Hornets’ statement said via Twitter.

“John has been suspended indefinitely as we investigate the matter more closely.”

Focke, who just completed his first season with the Hornets, was tweeting about the Utah Jazz-Denver Nuggets playoff game Monday afternoon. The tweet included the N-word instead of “Nuggets.”

“Shot making in this Jazz-(N-word) game is awesome! Murray and Mitchell going back and forth what a game!” the tweet read.

Focke apologized on his Twitter account around 10 p.m. Monday night.

“Earlier today I made a horrific error while attempting to tweet about the Denver-Utah game,” Focke’s tweet read. “I don’t know how I mistyped, I had (and have) no intention of ever using that word.

“I take full responsibility for my actions. I have been sick to my stomach about it ever since. I’m truly sorry that this happened and I apologize to those I offended.”

Focke responded to a text from The Charlotte Observer on Monday night, saying he would not have additional comments for now.

—The Charlotte Observer

‘God help us all’ if Democrats win Senate, SC’s Graham says as his race gets tighter

COLUMBIA, S.C. — South Carolina’s Republican U.S. Sens. Lindsey Graham and Tim Scott urged voters during a South Carolina Chamber of Commerce forum Tuesday to get involved to make sure Democrats don’t gain control of the U.S. Senate and White House after November.

Graham, who faces his own contentious battle for his Senate seat against challenger Jaime Harrison, said on the videoconference call that he was “scared” of the causes championed by House Democrats, calling the politicians on the other side of the aisle “radical.”

“It’s very important that President (Donald) Trump get reelected,” Graham said. “But it’s more important that we keep the Senate.”

In order to gain control of the Senate, Democrats would need to hold their current seats and win four more. Democrats also could aim to win three seats and the White House, leaving a Democratic vice president to break the tied votes.

“If we lose that majority, God help us all,” said Graham.

On the call Tuesday, Graham also criticized the Green New Deal, an environmental and economic plan championed by several Democrats and rebuked by Republicans. Democratic presidential nominee and former Vice President Joe Biden also supports parts of the program, which aim at tackling climate change and promoting jobs in the clean energy sector.

Graham said the plan would “destroy the economy in the name of helping the environment.”

Scott, meanwhile, warned that if Democrats gain control of the Senate they could try to get rid of the filibuster, a method of blocking or delaying a bill. Several Democrats have advocated getting rid of the filibuster, including former President Barack Obama.

Without the filibuster, Scott said it would be easier for the controlling party to pass legislation and the type of legislation passed would change dramatically as the Senate changes hands.

“The ability for a bipartisan coalition to transform this country will be gone,” Scott said. “What we really want is certainty and predictability. Good policy is helpful, certainty is necessary.”

Graham reiterated Tuesday that Republicans need to be reelected to the Senate to keep that control. But recent polling suggests Graham’s own standing might be changing.

—The State (Columbia, S.C.)

Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

#briefs #nation #world #World

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giarts · 4 years

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Celebrating Juneteenth with Black Artists!

Submitted by admin on June 18, 2020

<![CDATA[/* ><![CDATA[/* ><![CDATA[/* ><!]]]]]]><![CDATA[><![CDATA[>*/ /*--><!]]]]><![CDATA[>*/ /*--><!]]>*/

It’s a great holiday to be sharing with each of you today, Juneteenth! As we gather – remotely – to honor and celebrate the power and jubilation of this day, liberation for ancestors and elders, we hope to echo the voices and experiences of Black artists who have brought us joy, made us feel seen, challenged, supported, and taught us so much. We come here with deep gratitude and deeper commitment to investing in a future of liberation for Black peoples everywhere.

Today, we join many of you commemorating the emancipation of enslaved folks in the U.S. and working toward an equitable and just field and future. This Juneteenth, the GIA team offers some reflections on personal experiences with a Black artist who has contributed to our lives.

We hope our reflections inspire sharing of your stories with Black artists who have been central in your life.

From Sherylynn

I could write an entire book on Black art, art while Black, and how inspiring it is.

Black artists continue to create despite the fact that creating art while living in a Black body will always be “a political statement.” If your art leans too much into the Black experience or is too Afro-futurist, it’s radical or controversial. If it leans too much into the Eurocentric style, it’s political because “what makes you think you belong in this space?” Yet still, we keep creating art to teach, heal, entertain, find solace and fulfillment, and spread joy. I love that.

Jean-Michel Basquiat said it best, “I don’t listen to what art critics say. I don’t know anybody who needs a critic to find out what art is.”

Thank you, Black artists. Keep creating unapologetically. Here is to more life and more freedom, (raises glass), Happy Juneteenth!

From Carmen

As I write these words, Prince and Janet Jackson take turns in my Spotify. I can’t decide which of them has been more influential in my life, since as a die-hard music lover, I grew up with both as MTV and VH1 filled my after-school hours.

Video after video, Janet taught me many dance moves and, in doing so, she taught me so much about confidence and joy. In my senior year, I took many of those lessons and translated them to an interpretation of one of her classics, “If.” Back then I asked four friends to dance with me and we spent many afternoons rehearsing our choreography. I remember feeling that Janet’s strength and energy got directly into my soul when I took the stage.

Queen Janet is still queen Janet in my life. I would have seen her for the first time this year, but her Black Diamond tour is one of those that lost to the cancellations due to the coronavirus pandemic. I’m still heartbroken (insert “That’s the Way Love Goes” for this moment in my life’s soundtrack), but I’m hopeful I’ll be able to dance with her someday, even if it’s from a very far away seat.

Photo by Manu Kumar on Unsplash

Songs from Prince like “Nothing Compares to You,” on the other hand, are equally integral to my soundtrack. I would daydream thinking that the love of my life would dedicate lyrics to me like the ones in “The Most Beautiful Girl in the World.” I still love that video and its diverse cast of women because I saw myself in many of them!

His death in 2016 left me with a void (similar to how I felt when David Bowie died earlier that year), but Prince’s memoir, “The Beautiful Ones,” has provided me a special way to connect with that beautiful – and complex – mind.

As I write this brief love letter to two of my greatest inspirations I cannot help wanting to sing and dance my heart away (in a very fashionable way, of course).

From Sylvia

youtube

I AM (HEAR), directed by Olympia Perez

Black Trans Media is an organization run by Sasha Alexander and Olympia Perez for the Black trans and gender nonconforming community – one of the few organizations run by, and in service and support of the Black trans and GNC community. Sasha officially founded the organization in 2013 to shift and reframe the worth and value of Black trans people everywhere through media, art, advocacy, and community organizing, but I have known Sasha since 2004, and they were making space and time for racial and gender justice and liberation long before we even met. Thank you for being part of my family and for the adventures through the years and always driving me home because I don’t have a license (I will not give away more dates because Sasha and I have aged very well and we have reputations to uphold).

From Yessica

circa 2005.

I was so fresh, I mean perm fresh (really a relaxer. IF you know, you know).

I entered a lecture hall in a college, not my own, in upstate NY somewhere. I listened to the words of Professor Kaba Hiawatha Kamene, words that would bend my world, and force me to forge a new path. Teaching me that unlearning is only the beginning and probably the hardest to do. Realizing what I had learned in so many classrooms before this one didn’t stick because it wasn’t our truth. You said to never fear and continue to plant seeds for we do not know which ones will sprout. 15 years later, I still remember the conversations we had in that room, and look at how far I’ve come. I am eternally grateful. The warrior in me honors the warrior in you. Onward and forward, with love and light, Professor Kaba Hiawatha Kamene, Meta Netur Scholar.

From Champ

“Christ You Know it Ain’t Easy!!” was the title of the show that introduced me to Deborah Grant’s work in 2014, but it could be a mantra for many of us – any of us – and you know what I mean by that. She contains multitudes, and everything is grist for her mill. “Everything in life is accessible and it needs to be looked at over and over and over again” she says, and “The key is how well you transform those aspects into something that is unique and of your own hand. If you are going to steal, then DO IT WELL!” Her sources and allusions and motifs range everywhere through art and culture and history; she breaks down the labels that are used to segregate one set of experiences from another. I can’t say it better than John Yau: “There is nothing essentialist about Grant’s investigation of identity, but what she does is essential.”

Installation view, Deborah Grant, The Birth of a Genius in a Midnight Sun, 2012. Photo by Tyler Green, Modern Art Notes Podcast.

From Steve

John Coltrane was the last giant of jazz. But he was my first meaningful touchstone. I arrived in college with plans to eventually get a seat in a symphony, pull together a basket of students, maybe a find a steady teaching job. I was well-versed as I could have been in the classics. My jazz experience was limited to the big bands my parents enjoyed from their youth. And that didn’t conflict or expand upon my notion of musicianship as a virtuosic effort. Hit every note, nail the auditions, win the seat. Perfection.

So it was a surprise to me that I quickly began to gravitate toward the jazzers. They spoke a new language around music that elevated expression and feeling and connection. So I jumped in and John Coltrane was the first landing.

He wasn’t a revolutionary, though he recorded with Cecil Taylor. He wasn’t a be-bopper or a hard-bopper, though he came into himself through those musics. He was a devotee and a tenacious seeker. The patriarchs of his family were preachers, and he internalized their cadence and modulation and made that his music.

He was spiritual and humble, so confidence was difficult for him even though he was playing next to Miles and Monk in their respective bands which were at the top of the jazz world. He couldn’t immerse himself in spectacle of stardom because he felt that he had to work on his own thing. Following a performance, Miles and the guys would find the party and come back to their hotel the next day to find Trane asleep with his horn in his mouth.

On Kind of Blue, you can hear him finding higher gears in the sublime modal music of Miles and Bill Evans. On Giant Steps you hear him shift into those gears. He would speed through the last seven years of his life recording what seemed like an album every month. By the release of one he was disappearing over the horizon. In 1964, he disappeared to his home in Dix Hills, New York, and emerged a few weeks later with A Love Supreme, the record that was my introduction to Trane. It is reasonably considered the greatest jazz record ever made. Everything that followed would challenge and divide the critics and fans. His music was entirely a personal and spiritual endeavor.

He barely noticed when the critics complained that he was riding on his previous fame while making “unlistenable” music (a widely-held perspective that I don’t agree with). He barely noticed that he was terminally ill.

He’s called the last giant because the music called jazz became a niche in the cultural landscape; African-American folklore to be studied in music school. His genius was undeniable. But his important late-period work could be hard to digest. For most, it took an act of faith to sit through 40-minute doses of group improvisation. After Trane’s death, Miles went towards Rock (a scandal of its own) and the music seemed to lose most of its casual audience and mainstream exposure.

My exploration of his music was not casual. I grabbed anything I could get and once or twice I took it in from start to finish. It is a remarkable trajectory over a short period of time. And it changed me. I saw the act of artmaking very differently after finding Coltrane.

From Eddie

Fred Wilson is an artist who changed my life through his work. Fred interrogates unspoken assumptions that inform museum display – what we choose to reveal and what we choose to conceal – as his artistic strategy. Using existing objects – oftentimes objects that are not displayed to the public – and placing them in relation to objects that are often displayed, he reveals how institutions conceal histories of racialized treatment of people. In this way, Fred’s exploration of race and racism is through revelatory critique of institutional practices.

In the words of Angelique Power, president of the Field Foundation of Illinois, “People use racial equity as a substitute for diversity… Racial equity is about shifting power and resources. It involves dismantling AND rebuilding systems. This is an important point since for many of us it stops with dismantling; rebuilding involves shifting resources and power, acknowledging history, and in some ways rethinking history that you have been told and, from that lens, building something new.”

My first real exposure to institutional and historical critique – and critiques of systems – was through Fred’s art.

Fred changed my life in another essential way. He was the first director of Longwood Art Gallery, located in the South Bronx. After years of his leadership, he stepped aside for a new era under Betti-Sue Hertz (who hired me as her gallery manager when I was still a college student). Fred continued to periodically visit to see exhibits as well as lend his name and his work to our efforts to raise funds and increase our profile.

Through Fred, I had a model of a person of color from the Bronx who engaged the art world on terms that were his own. I am humbled and grateful to know him. Thank you, Fred.

From Nadia

I knew of Kara Walker’s brilliant and critical work, art reshaping narratives, meanings subtle and bold, long before I saw it in person. The first instance was upon arriving at graduate school. I was met by Walker in a two-story tall mural transcending the open stair. It was a piece that provoked dialogue amongst students in a private, (self-identified) Marxist institution (quite a juxtaposition to navigate already) about race (the besieged topic of non-discussion amongst solely-class-based social analysis). The space Walker’s piece created was unlike the other white-walled boxes where “Art” was made. It was a space pressing us with histories politely avoided and self-reflections sidestepped.

Photo by metacynic, Flickr, Kara Walker’s “A Subtlety,” 2014.

The second time I got to experience Walker’s art was closer to home. Living adjacent to the in/famed Brooklyn neighborhood of Williamsburg (both North and South, there is a difference), I got to visit the former Domino Sugar Factory where “A Subtlety, or the Marvelous Sugar Baby” was installed for a several weeks in the midst of local struggle around gentrification, privatization, fare wages, and the fight for self-determination in Black and Brown communities, among others.

I share these stories of my time with Walker’s art because it feels like no coincidence that the timing corresponded with my learnings about systems change. The physical embodiment of that work was so apparent in Walker’s forms. The inescapability was palpable. The lessons still ongoing.

Posted by admin on June 18, 2020 at 03:04PM. Read the full post.

#arts #philanthropy #nonprofit

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road2nf · 7 years

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Jensen McRae | The Road to Nerdfighteria

DFTBA. If you are not subscribed to the vlogbrothers YouTube channel, and if you never have been, you might not know what that stands for. It’s an initialism (because acronyms are pronounceable, fact c/o of a vlogbrothers video) that stands for Don’t Forget To Be Awesome. It is the official (or perhaps unofficial) motto of the nerdfighter community. (Nerdfighters are people who are fans of vlogbrothers, the content creators therein, or the community therein. I think that’s enough definitions for now). When I was 14 years old, this book called The Fault in Our Stars came out. A good friend of mine was kind of obsessed with the author, this slightly sub-middle-aged white guy named John Green, and she insisted that I read both The Fault in Our Stars and Looking for Alaska, this John Green guy’s first book. I was a reader in childhood, having developed nearsightedness due to my predilection for reading in the dark after my bedtime by flashlight (at least that’s the explanation my mother gave me). However, recently I’d found myself frustrated by books. I would tear through middle-grade chick lit (that’s the best way I can describe these terribly formulaic books with dull characters and contrived plots that always involved two straight/white/able-bodied/middle-class best friends falling in love) when I found it, but other than that, I wasn’t reading as much as I used to. I can’t really remember what I did with my free time. I guess I was writing songs? I think I was mostly playing The Sims 3. I digress. In any case, I was in ninth grade and on the precipice of Maybe Being Cool, and this friend was one of the cooler girls in class, so I bought TFiOS (hip shorthand) about two months after its publication and read it over spring break in ninth grade. I read it in one three or four hour sitting, and I cried. Like a lot. It was the first time since early childhood that I could remember a book moving me in such a poignant way. I was attached to the characters, I was absorbed by the plot, and the language! The LANGUAGE in that story was so compelling. I was picking up on subtext and metaphors in a way that I’d only ever done when I was forced to in English class. The book had reinvigorated my love for words in stories that no other book could have. Then I took a brief reading hiatus. The second half of my ninth grade year was me continuing to ascend the social ladder, however slowly. I still joked that I was a dork, but the truth of the matter was, I had friends from every rung. I was sociable with tech geeks, theater nerds, football players, and cheerleaders alike. I felt like people had stopped looking through me like I was invisible. It was largely due to my presence on the school newspaper, which drew both the ambitious popular kids and the ambitious nerdy kids to its ranks. Also, I had a boyfriend. We never kissed or held hands or even went on dates, but we hung out every day at school and told people we were dating. This was enough to get me at least a bit of social buying power. (I promise this is all relevant to the story). Then, at the end of freshman year, I realized that I was sick of having a boyfriend who did not kiss me or hold my hand or go on dates with me, and also didn’t answer my texts or calls once school let out. So I called his house and dumped him over the phone. I spent the summer feeling sorry for myself, turning to the Internet and its thriving subculture of fame and infamy. Whenever I get heartbroken in real life, I fall deeply and inconsolably in love with fictional characters and/or celebrities who are too old for me. That summer, it was Jack and Finn Harries, Dan Howell, and any other British 20-year-old who made funny sketches and made me feel like I was loved, even though they were thousands of miles away, several years older, and had no idea who I was. It was during this summer that I discovered a channel featuring two much older men named Hank Green and John Green (yes relation, they’re brothers). Their videos were all at least somewhat informational, whether they be about politics, science, literature, or just about the personal lives of the men who made the videos. About five videos in, I realized that John Green of the vlogbrothers was John Green of TFiOS fame. I was elated! There were hundreds of videos on the channel going back to 2007. In between reading self-insert fanfic about the Harries twins, I would watch vlogbrothers videos, reminding myself to read John’s other books when I got the chance. When I returned to school, all the work that I’d done to become popular seemed to dissolve before my very eyes. Sophomore year was when we switched campuses, to the Upper School, and all the actual popular kids were going to parties with upperclassmen and trying alcohol and getting into real relationships. I was stuck in the past, pining over boys who only hung out with me so I would help them write their essays and obsessing over Tumblr and YouTube. I was also experiencing turbulence in my personal life unlike any I’d ever had before. It’s so clear to me now that I was afraid of the social rejection and emotional darkness in the real world, so I holed myself up online, laughing while handsome young Brits wore wigs on camera and rewatching John Green speed-talk his way through a fake television show he titled “Hitler and Sex.” In the midst of this Internet-ing, I read that other John Green book my old friend had mentioned, even though she’d already begun the slow and painful process of outgrowing me (the death knell of our friendship was when she told me about having sex with her boyfriend in her car and my response was some combination of a prudish, judgmental face and an exclamation of “Ew!”). Looking for Alaska leveled me just as profoundly as TFiOS had, and with no social life to worry about, I was hungry for more. I read the other books that John Green had talked about on his channel–Fahrenheit 451 and The Great Gatsby, plus other works that his recommendations had led me to, like Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, The Taming of the Shrew, and one of my all-time favorites to this day, Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut. I was reading a book almost every week, downloading them to my iPad and going back to my old habits, reading by dim light long after I should have already gone to sleep. My schoolwork wasn’t where it needed to be, but I was thriving. Awakened, even. Though my junior year marked another ascent into minor popularity, I crash-landed my senior year, coming off a painful rejection from a summer romance and a position in student government that should have won me acceptance but largely isolated me from everyone but my fellow council mates and steady friends. College applications were stressing me out, I felt alienated from even my immediate circle, and I was worried about my social future. Though I was accepted to the only two universities I applied to, I felt inert and emotionally itchy. I descended back into what I knew best: books. I read more Vonnegut, bizarre stories by delightful authors like Graeme Cameron and Douglas Coupland, and of course, my current #1 all-time, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz. After my brain literally exploded from reading Oscar Wao in all its sprawling, multilingual, multigenerational, magical realistic/science fictional glory, I devoured Díaz’s two books of short stories, Drown and This Is How You Lose Her. I vividly remember those days in the spring of 2015, using my seemingly endless multitude of free periods to sit in the sweaty, iron-hot bleachers, nose burrowed in a book, ignoring the festivities of senior year around me. I was happier alone, laughing at Kurt’s crude drawings and Díaz’s matter-of-factness about love and sex, experiences I’d still yet to have at 17. I graduated, and I went to USC, where within a month of starting school I met Junot Díaz and got him to sign my copy of Oscar Wao. I dealt with the Usual College Stuff, like homesickness (from half an hour away…I’m weak) and social anxiety and academic adjustments and figuring out what the hell it actually means to major in popular music. I stopped judging people for drinking alcohol and having sex, I stopped being afraid of parties (though I’m still terrified of boys…and rightly so), I stopped being disappointed in my real life because it doesn’t follow a neat narrative (or at least I do it less now). However, I never stopped reading, and I never stopped watching vlogbrothers videos. I am a faithful nerdfighter, because that online community and John’s books have seen me through some dark times. Somewhere in the last five years, I read An Abundance of Katherines (not my favorite), Paper Towns (used to be my favorite but TFiOS ranks supreme at the moment), and Will Grayson Will Grayson (absolutely ACES but technically cowritten with David Levithan so to me it is in a separate category). I’ve watched thousands of videos from vlogbrothers and Crash Course. I went to Vidcon in 2014 and met John in person for about five seconds, handing him my business card and a #JustinCarrWantsWorldPeace luggage tag before he was escorted to his next event by security. My love of language has blossomed into three young adult manuscripts, two feature films, a handful of short films, and hundreds of poems, songs, and essays. Though my inner and outer lives have changed substantially since I first wept onto the pages of TFiOS, I’m still anxious, and often. I’m still terrified of romantic rejection and I still put myself out there frequently and embarrassingly. I’m still a bookworm and I’m still a writer and I’m still a nerdfighter. And I think I always will be. John Green and his books have a special place in my heart. So when he announced that his first new book in almost six years is coming out this fall, I was overcome with emotion. Turtles All The Way Down isn’t just a book. It’s a historical artifact from the future, a piece of my past hurtling towards me from the opposite direction. When I think of John Green’s work, I think of my cringey adolescence, my weirdly small glasses and then my weirdly big glasses, my difficulty with my weight and my stunted social development. I think of the hours I spent reblogging fan art and GIF sets of real people that I’d mythologized into characters by watching their YouTube videos for so long. I think of my transition from Cute Little Girl to Awkward Bookish Teen to Real Human Woman. I was 14 when I read my first John Green book. I will be 20 when I read Turtles All The Way Down. The chasm between who I was and who I will be then is huge. Un-crossable by anyone but me. Right now, we’re a little less than four months out from the release of Turtles All The Way Down. Not much is known about the book, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’m feeling those tingly “no spoilers!” feelings I felt when I was in high school and enamored with the purity of an untouched literary experience. But as much as this book’s impending release is inspiring a unique kind of nostalgia in me, it’s also reminding me that I cannot go back. I cannot return to the innocent girl of 14 I was when I first heard John Green’s name, and I can’t get back the years I spent/lost/lived in between then and now. I can only move forward. I can only grow up. This book, in all likelihood, will not live up to my expectations. It will not change my life. It can’t, because though it will be my first time reading this particular book, it won’t be my first time becoming infatuated with literature. I’ve done that already. I may love this book, but there is a difference between falling in love with someone new and falling in love for the very first time. Before I met books with sweaty palms, dress askew, tongue heavy in my mouth. So…come here often? Now, each story is met with a knowing smile, legs crossed at the ankles like they’re supposed to be, no lipstick on the wine glass. Your place or mine? Before this book comes out, and I form any opinions about the content or the style, I would like to extend a heartfelt thank you to John Green. If not for his careful handiwork, if not for the immense trust that he puts in his young readers, if not for his heart-wrenching stories, I might never have been drawn to great books the way I am now. Thank you for caring. Thank you for writing even when your illness handcuffed you, tried to make you stop. Thank you for making videos about hard topics and silly ones. I may grow up, but I will never outgrow you and your words, John. Keep publishing books, and I’ll keep reading them, no matter how old we both get.

via @withfeelingoncemore

#nfstories #john green #hank green #tfios #turtles all the way down #nerdfighteria #reading #submission

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