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meyeselph · 3 years

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Gwenpool: Desperate Misanthrope's Confused Angst

Showtime

Ms. Pool woke up in a familiar room. Not in Krakoa - there are no mutants around. This isn’t a story about that. Look, honestly, without an actual Gwenpool series and the constant breaks in her comics appearance I can’t even begin to give a fuck. I cancelled my marvel universe subbie. I might get back to my stories but single issues are iffy. I read fast and don’t pore over the artwork. So I get 10 minutes of entertainment for….FIVE DOLLARS? When did this happen? Jeezus.

Who even reads comics anymore?

Anyway, long story short, Gwen got out of bed and recognized the room as her old one from the “old times.” The dark times. The ‘not running around in pink and white outfits and shooting people’ times. She panicked (Been there. It is what it is though). The only way out of trauma is through.

She dressed in old clothes, immediately hit by old smells, she couldn’t help but cry. Was it all a dream? Have I gone insane (again)? All the usual self doubts cropped up. I mean, really, if you think this kind of thing didn’t pass through her mind regularly why don’t you transport yourself to a comic book universe?

Oh, you can’t?

Oh. It isn’t actually possible for you and I’m stupid for suggesting it. So, yeah. If it actually happened and you kept that attitude then the logical assumption for a normie is a mental breakdown. Trick for Gwen, though, is it's probably always been both real and her being nuts.

So she goes downstairs to the kitchen to figure out why this is happening and Evil Gwen is having cereal. Let's say cocoa puffs. I’ve been thinking about those recently. You ever remember cereal as something worth cherishing. Not as just bullshit that TV convinced you to want? God damn, now I want Cookie Crisp. Cookie Crisp wasn’t even ever that good. Why do I want Cookie Crisp?

So also sitting around the table were the faceless versions of her father, mother, and her brother. Just chilling. No BD. Seen Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind?

Yes, I know that references aren’t jokes - fuck you, I’m painting a picture and I CAN’T PAINT, THAT’S WHY THIS ISN’T A COMIC. Fucks sake. Anyway. So, Gwen is so creeped out that she just sits her butt down by Evil Gwen as if she’s the comforting presence here.

Her name’s too long. Let’s call Evil Gwen uh…….Gren. You know, like Grendel from Beowulf. I haven’t actually read Beowulf and this is all a little confusing but I'm solving problems here. Writing this is harder for me than you would think so it’s best to keep things flowing off the cuff. That’s the Gwenpool™ style anyway, isn’t it? Are you laughing yet? IMPROV. “YES AND” MY SHIT, READER!

“So, you ever really look into the retconned past thing, hun?” Gren said, moving her tongue around her food. Being gross as an attempt to be properly evil. She swallowed before continuing. “This is all I could really put together on short notice but i’m pretty sure what the future people created, all that stuff to try and trick you, it was all bullshit.”

“What do you mean? Are you trying to convince me to go all psycho like you again?” Gwen asked, exasperated, realizing she was now back in the whole ‘fuck with Gwen to decide her fate’ song and dance routine from the end of her first arc.

“Nah, not really.” Gren said. A hammer appeared in her hands out of nowhere and Gren swung it into their fake father’s head, snapping his neck..

“DAD!” Gwen instinctively cried as she saw her father’s body slump to the floor. Gren slapped Gwen’s face. “That’s it,” Gren said, “this is what the trick was.This is a poorly created character in a fictional story. Meant to manipulate you into attaching your concept of “father” to it. Even his finished version in the original comics run wasn’t THAT well drawn. Your dad read like a boomer’s idea of a responsible parent. You were going through a mental crisis and struggling to find purpose in life and his genius idea was get a shitty low paying job and suck it up?”

Gren turned to their brother, pushed his face to the table and smashed the back of his skull. . “Brother dearest, too. Going right along with their victim blaming. He gaslighted you as if what you were going through was just you being ‘irresponsible.’ Bitch, people working a minimum wage job aren’t somehow not impoverished and miserable because they get some of that ‘honest work’ that folks keep badgering on about. Minimum wage work is occupied by many physically and mentally disabled people held hostage; they’re people society only pretends to care about. Then they turn it all into you acting like some world ending threat. No questions about what drove you to the edge in the first place. You are just ‘unstable,’ so you’re just a problem to be solved. They say, ‘Let’s all solve this girl being upset and on edge by ruining her concept of self, reality, and memory.’ Brilliant!”

Gwen barely processed this in horror. Gren then slit the poor facsimile of their mother’s throat while continuing to rant, “You see people die all the time, Gwen. Half of the time you are doing the killing. You do it because it’s in a story. In a story the NPCs don’t matter and, after all, your original schtick in the story was to be kill-crazy. The non-marketable characters can be replaced or retconned at the stroke of the artist’s pen.” Gren leans forward as she pulls a Gwenpool mask over Gwens face. “Then the writers convince you that you have some middle class milk toast family and you take abuse and subsume your emotional needs because the problem MUST be you. You aren’t ‘normal’ so you have to be fixed.”

Gwen wiped her eyes over the mask and sighed. A bit of fire filled her gut as she stared at Gren. “So fucking what? You want me to go on a killing spree and be a big time villain to get myself a nice, shiny permanent big bad status? That’s how I stay around right? Just build my legacy on bodies?”

Gren scoffed “You already lost that fight, girly. Where do you think we are? Because this ain’t Marvel Comics.”

Confused, Gwen blinked and tried reaching for the page margins, finding nothing. Wait….why was everything on this page so ill defined and undetailed? Wait? Why was the story in kinda wobbly third person past tense?

Gwen sighed “Oh. I’m in a fanfic. I guess the publishing fight is for another day eh?”

“My advice, personally,” Gren stated, “is that you consider the lobster.”

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Gren pulled aside the kitchen curtains revealing the face of a giant lobster, its claws tapping on the glass. The lobster muttering gutterally about personal responsibility.

“Because there’s a couple thousand giant lobsters outside that would like to claw you until you read their book.”

Scared of Girls

On the rooftop, Gren shoved a high powered rifle into Gwen’s hands while she handled the close range threats. So, this conversation they’re about to have is important. Sniping puts Gwen into a sort of zen space, so that’s a better task to keep her focused, after all.

“So, what? You wanted me to internalize that my “origin story” is bullshit? Okay, what does that accomplish, then?” Gwen asked in a bit of a deadpan. She was so tired today. Not really feeling her happy go lucky energy. More like a “happy go fucky” energy. It was hard to always be on a knife's edge. Still the rifle’s kick into her shoulder was satisfying as she blew through two of the creepy looking lobsters at once. “Also, why the lobsters?”

Gren considered this. “Okay, last question first, I had to experiment a lot and do a lot of research to construct this place for your learning and healing in fanfic form....These buddies are a failed experiment of mine that I repurposed because the fic needed more action. Isn’t that right, giant enemy crap?” As she peppers the nearest goon with a hail of shotgun pellets the entire throng of them burst out, sharply muttering about divine symbols.

“As for what I'm trying to teach you, it’s that you aren’t reaching your potential.” Gren grumpily huffed.

“Duh,” Gwen reloads, “I mean you just killed a mannequin version of the voice in my head that says that to me every day.” one of those crustaceans talks about feminine symbolism while she decides on her next target.

“Not like fake daddy’s ‘Be a responsible member of society by paying your taxes’ type of potential. I mean your creative and emotional potential.” Gren flipped off the slavering throng of monsters, noticing they were starting to keep their distance from the roof.

“I never did finish that fanfic idea I had.” Gwen mused.

“God, don’t mention that,” Gren thrusts a finger at Gwenpool. “Not that I don’t respect fanfic, but when comic book writers make you and Kamala squee about fanfiction to try and relate to “the kids” it comes across as so condescending.”

“Really? I mean…..I'm sure it’s meant as support for the concept?”

“Most fucking superhero comics are just legalized fanfiction! The people who created the characters are either long gone or working on someone else’s characters! They just think they are so much better because they got fucking paid. They can’t imagine themselves as on the same playing field as fanficcers even though most of them have the same level of connection to the roots of the work as anyone else.” Gren groused loudly as she seemed to pull Reed Richards out of nowhere.

Confused, Reed looked around until his eyes met Gwen’s.“Oh great, you again.” Reed groaned as he turned to survey the piles of lobster gibs while Gwen cheered the lobster forces’ retreat with a resounding “EDF, EDF!”. The scattered creatures skittered amongst the bland scenery. It looked like a suburban neighborhood but someone forgot to color in the sky….or write that the sky had color. A castle hung out in the distance breaking up the generic normalcy and lay cloaked in shadow despite being surrounded by an endless white void.

“And…..black….you?” Reed pointed to Gren, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I have an evil future self….well I stopped that future so it’s an….evil...alternate timeline self?” Gwen said with a nervous chuckle, abandoning the kill quest for the minute and rested her rifle on the roof.

“Ah. Yeah I’ve been down that road. It’s a rather common occurrence. Multiverse being what it is.” Reed laughed heartily while putting his hands on his hips.

“I’m not sure I’m evil, honestly,” Gren interjected. “I think I’m just really fucking grumpy and I’m slightly more gung-ho on the homicide. Considering Gwen’s already one of the more kill crazy characters on the roster it’s not that much of a distinction.” Gren flipped her cape. “My main distinction is I don’t like that meme from The Incredibles! You can just make it so the cape detaches automatically when it’s pulled hard enough!”

“You could still have it tangled up around your face.” Reed pointed out in his standard know-it-all fashion.

“Don’t make me go into fuck wife mode, stretch.” Gren spat. “Okay, anyway, so I brought him here to illustrate a point. Reed. Explain particle physics to me as a laymen.”

“Huh...i’m not sure why but okay. Particle physics (also known as high energy physics) is a branch of physics that studies the nature of the particles that constitute matter and radiation. Although the word particle can refer to various types of very small objects (e.g. protons, gas particles, or even household dust), particle physics usually investigates the irreducibly smallest detectable particles and the fundamental interactions necessary to explain their behaviour. In current understanding, these elementary particles are excitations of the quantum fields that also govern their interactions. The currently dominant theory explaining these fundamental particles and fields, along with their dynamics, is called the Standard Model. Thus, modern particle physics generally investigates the Standard Model and its various possible extensions, e.g. to the newest "known" particle, the Higgs boson, or even to the oldest known force field, gravity.” Reed rattled this off rather mechanically.

Gren then took out her phone and showed Gwen the Wikipedia article on “Particle Physics,” which is naturally the same words that Reed had regurgitated above, just without any formatting and, again, on a phone.

“Reed can’t be a genius in any subject unless he’s written by a genius in that subject. That’s how stories work. Everyone is limited by the understanding and capabilities of the writer. Same with your origin story and all the people you’ve interacted with. If you are as ‘meta’ as you think you are then you have to realize that you aren’t actually talking to people. You are talking to the writer. Dr. Strange didn’t rewrite your existence to be a part of the Marvel Universe. As far as most of Marvel continuity goes Dr. Strange was never there and doesn’t know or care about his MCU casting…..Hey Reed, buzz off please before the conversation pivots to why you haven’t cured all known diseases.”

Reed looked a little surprised but then pulled out a teleportation device (of course he has one) and blipped away with a shrug.

“How awkward is that going to be when he enters the MCU after Kamala is already introduced with a very similar power set?” Gwen chuckled.

“Keep up the way you’ve been going and you’ll never see it. I’m not exactly expecting a young blonde girl casting call for Deadpool 3 and that’s your best bet.” Gren snarked. Gwen winced with a sigh.

“I don’t get what I'm doing wrong. I have a fanbase comparable to some of the characters that have already shown up but I can’t even get comics written about me most of the time. An MCU push seems unlikely. They would literally have to deal with completely recontextualizing my powers and gimmick”

“Let’s ask her what you should do.” Gren motioned her way to the suddenly appearing long hair future Gwen, looming over them like The Attack of the 50 foot Woman for some reason. Dwarfing the roof they are on. Let’s call her BIGwen!

Gold Guns Girls

As BIGwen acclimated to her surroundings she stubbed her toe on a car, dramatically flipping it so that it took out a few more lobsters before caving in a nearby house. The lamentations about clean rooms soaring as the remaining couple dozen of them attempt to clean up some of the bodies of their fallen kin. The large and sort-of-in-charge Gwen hissed in pain and adjusted her boot. Getting her balance as best as possible she muttered curses that traveled rather well considering the lung capacity of a giant.

“You know,” Gren started, “I wasn’t expecting much from our previous uses of the ‘make her big for emphasis’ trick, but it really does only work as a vague ghostly background element. I didn’t just want it to be ‘oh, here's a third Gwen for the conversation, though. Would lack umph.”

“ Yeah, I get it, but staring at my own giant taint is unsettling.” Gwen muttered.

“I’d still, hit it.” Gren grinned, then immediately got punched in the arm. “OWWW! Look, I’m the evil one here and we’re in a fanfic. I’m allowed to make internet fetish jokes.”

“And I’m allowed to hit you for it.”.

“Dirty lampshading goody two shoes. Don’t act like half your fanbase isn’t thirsty. It’s “insert current year argument”, all art is sexy to someone.” Gren complained back,rubbing her arm before hopping off the roof. Gwen followed while listening as patiently as she could considering how many changes in topic her evil-caped self is going through to get to her point. “This chick is the reason you’ve been on the path of good girl. Some vague idea that in the future everything will work out for the best. HEY, DOWN HERE, BIG SHOW!” Gren waved at BIGwen and she looked down curiously.

“Yeah what??” BIGwen responded in a booming and agitated tone. Honestly, being in this fic made every version of Gwen a little grumpy.

“How’s she supposed to be a popular hero that makes it into the MCU and has a stable publication history?” Gren asked.

“Fuck if I know.” Came BIGwen’s response. “Have you tried growing your hair out?”

“Rub it in,” Gwen muttered under her breath, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of depressed now.” Gwen said as she sat on an abandoned car.

Gren hopped on the roof of the car, patting Gwen’s shoulder before squatting with enough force to flex the car’s shocks like a rocking chair just to amuse herself. “Future “good” Gwen wasn’t an actual plot point, it was a call to action to the fans to make fanfic like this and support the character outside of the actual Canon. Chris didn’t trust that Marvel would treat the character right. That, and your obsession with getting a new book, are both the writer’s attempt to turn a marketing tactic into fan engagement. If you want to be real then that makes the fans want you to be real even more, too.”

Gwen sighs heavily and leans her chin on one hand. “I mean...the time traveling through the life of an NPC fan complete with a Never Ending Story reference was a bit sappy even by the standard we sometimes set...damn it it really was just kind of a fan manipulation trick wasn’t it?”

BIGwen Sat down on the street next to them and crossed her legs. “Hey, little me. Don’t get too down. I mean it worked for the most part. You have a healthy cult following. Characters have survived on less and there are worse things to be known for then as a fan first character”

“But I have to fight for attention all the damn time, though. It’s so easy for Wade with his fucking meme bullshit. He even gets runoff enthusiasm from me. Jeff the land shark is all over Oldpool online” Gwen felt rather heavy and tired all of a sudden. Marvel editorial forcing a gun to your head is not a fun way to be.

“All that fight is hell on the fanbase too.” Gren sighed. “Advocating for shit, getting crumbs and being expected to accept it while Disney lavishes all the attention based on some bullshit numbers game. Even if you make it into the MCU will it be a Batroc style cameo with obligatory ‘killed off in case we don’t feel like paying the actor again later.’ Will it be an emotionally rounded character or an ambush bug style joke? The thing is. You're Not the one fighting and you never were.”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“This version of her doesn’t know?” BIGwen whimpered.

“You aren’t real, Gwen.”

Head Like a Haunted House

“No….we aren’t having this conversation. Fuck you fuck you i’m not a fucking Nihlist and i’m not going to do this right now.” Gwen said as she scrambled off of the car and pulled out some guns. BIGwen then picked her up off the ground.

“You need to hear this, Gwen,” BIGwen boomed. “The gimmick has run its course. It’s fucking with your canon. You’re never going to be a marketable character keeping up a half fourth-wall Kayfabe”

Gren climbed onto BIGwen’s Shoulders and perched over Gwen all menacing like. “You need to listen. I’ve been trying to ease you into this. Making things more meta slowly until you were ready but it was never going to be easy.”

One of Gwen’s guns was fired from it’s holster and pierced one of BIGwen’s fingers. BIGwen screamed and her grip loosened. Soon Gwen was on the move running up her arm and firing at Gren, who dodged like the nimble and cute badass she is. “Don’t do this Gwen. Just because it doesn’t matter to the comic version of you doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m a real person god damn it! I read the comics out there! I came in! That’s why I know shit I shouldn't know. That’s what I am! THAT’S ALL I AM!” Gwen shrieked as she pulled out a sword from hammer-space and decapitated BIGwen. Suddenly a mess of colored streamers and a pile of Mickey Mouse merch tumbled out. Look, I am busy right now. Gwen is still slashing at my ass. I'm not going to explain it.

For some reason now the remaining lobsters were helping Gren. For Gwen’s own good you understand. This is proof that I’m right for some reason.

Gwen pulled out a revolver, firing pumpkin sized holes in lobsters who were still wailing about self actualization. She fully planned on shoving a sword up her evil self’s ass and getting rid of this doppelganger shit for good. Which is total bullshit by the way. She totally just cut off Gren’s leg because what the fuck you mean I’m not real? I’m going to be real all over your corpse.

Gren didn’t really think that was even a good comeback and also thought you should probably say it instead of meta willing the smack talk into existence, otherwise this fanfic is going to read like trash. Also, Gren’s leg wasn’t actually cut off. In a puff of smoke it is revealed that the cut off leg is a log and her leg is fine. Gren is a ninja now, believe it.

Gwen proceeded to do a sick ass CQC judo throw on Gren and then grab her cape and wrap it around her face like Reed suggested. Callbacks for the win! Callbacks to Checkov’s gun ideas always lead to victory in fights! She then totally shot at her and such.

But the bullet was caught by the cape because the cape was a symbiote! That’s right Gren is also GRENOM!...boy that sounds stupid. Anywho, the cape was no longer around her face and the fight continued and Gren now ALSO had extra powers and special wizard-symbiote armor (that would only show up in the MCU version if Marvel finally got the Sony characters back). The meta powers work like shit in text but this would be really good in CGI or animation if Marvel wanted to adapt this fic and give the writer lots of money. Gren still has more experience with them, though, and Gwen can’t really just kill her way out of this fic so she has to just let the story play out.

…...eh?....oh Gwen’s crying. I love/am you girl but we gotta work on the crying. Fucks sake this is harder than I thought. I’m depressed now too. Well I'll try to get the writing back on track so you guys can see what is going on. Even the lobsters are minding their manners now. Chill vibes, guys.

“The marvel character page for Gwenpool says, and I quote:

Gwenpool arrived in the Marvel Universe from the “real world,” but has wasted no time in making the most of her time in her fictional universe. Using her knowledge of comics to her advantage, Gwenpool causes and solves problems for her fellow heroes.”

Gren drags a lobster corpse slowly toward Gwen and sits on its tail as she talks to her. Taking her time to really scrape the lobster against the ground, smearing the gore on the pavement. Not that it was heavy for her or anything. Totally still has that symbiote, which would make moving it easy. Totally wasn’t a detail added in the second revision of the fic slightly before the lobsters were added.

“The words “Real world” are in quotation marks in that wiki. Real people don’t make it into comics because fiction isn’t real. Half of your versions barely make use of the ‘real person’ gimmick because it’s too meta by half and not every writer wants to waste time justifying it. So they just treat it like Deadpool’s medium awareness. Which it mostly is.”

“I really am just a fucking rip off distaff character.” Gwen moans. “Just a Gwen combined with a Pool. I’m worse than the Batman who laughs. I never mattered because I was never real”

“Fuck don’t say that. You were made with love and care by a team of creators who took a weird offshoot idea and built out a compelling metafiction idea and a likeable protagonist off of it. They just didn’t have the time and foresight to go far enough.” Gren sighed.

“Far enough?” Gwen sniffed as she was pulled up to her feet and dragged toward one of the big castles. As they walked Gren kicked along a Mickey Mouse doll that had rolled out of BIGwen’s severed head. Every time it bounced it cheerfully said ‘hahah. I love you!’

“Too much haha, not enough trauma. You’re not just a joke character.” Gren said as she kicked the Mickey doll into the big front door of the castle. The shadowy thing of course lighting up and being all fantasy and shit as the door opened.

“Well I did end both of my comic runs pretty mopey.”

“Damn right you did. When the jokes run thin they run to your real bread and butter. You’re an empathy machine.” As Gren shoves Gwen through the gate they are swallowed up in the castle, going dark again. “Let’s getcha sad clown on.”

Never there

“See, what evil me should have been telling you about in the original run is how to find meaning and purpose when technically nothing means anything. Comic book characters live in a world without real death and suffering. It’s all a puppet show version of real pain and real emotion meant to bring that out of an audience.” Gren opined as they walked through a black void to a couch floating in a nothing area lit only by the static of an old TV.

“Can we turn on a light?” Gwen asked as she sat on the couch. Gren sat on another recliner that suddenly appeared and put her feet up.

“Fuck off. Ambiance is a thing. We aren’t having a ‘lights on with something fun on the TV’ conversation. So look, I am not really ‘evil gwen.’ I’m half an author insert and half a plot device. If we are talking about the reality of the story you are basically talking to yourself. I am speaking about the things you don’t want to admit to yourself. You know, you’ve seen this kind of story sorta... right?” Gren picked up the remote and frustratedly changed channels between a bunch of vaguely illustrative footage on the TV, not finding anything that worked. A lot of black and white footage of trains for some reason. Just what comes to mind when I think of documentary footage? Weird.

“I am not sure how to illustrate this shit visually and this is a text story anyway so I would have to explain the illustration,” Gren griped.

“I basically get it. It’s not that uncommon a trope.” Gwen nodded.

“Because of the level of meta we are on right now we have to really acknowledge that you are basically an author insert, too. I mean, to a certain extent every version of you is more the writer that is working with your character at the time than a set character.” Gren said as she settled on a visual of Gwen being pushed out the window by her own narration text in the original comic run. When all else fails, resort to footage from the last story. That way people can look it up online!

“Right here is where the character crystallized in the mind of the author of the current fic we are in. A vague suicide metaphor wrapped up in the flavor of self destructive escapism. Your parents in the story thought it was a suicide attempt on at least some level. This is serious business. Not just a girl who doesn’t like work and can’t finish her fanfic. In this comic you are built on this understanding. The writer of this fic has ADHD and autism. So his version of you more or less has it, too. Writers bring themselves with them into their work.”

Gwen nods and takes a deep breath. “I….I can feel it. Like the world is closing around you. You aren’t built for anything that anyone wants from you. The one thing you really believe in, the one thing that really defines you, the stories in your head…..it’s just not enough.

You can’t trust you’ll ever make it with writing because you can barely write. You barely have the energy to do anything but wish that you weren’t you. What if someone actually listened? Actually believed in you and whisked you away somewhere else where the world would fit your needs? What if you were someplace you could be someone else, someone strong and confident?”

“Yeah. Like a funny anti hero in a comic for instance.” Gren nodded. “But the original comics sort of left the theme on the table. They were captured by the misconception of Gwen as the problem and not a person who needed help. All that desperation that real fans of the character might feel just bundled up into love for this character that really ‘gets’ them but Marvel doesn’t ‘get’ the character. They won't use her. They won’t go past vaguely gesturing at her mental issues and moving on. They saved the angst for Wandavision.” Gren scoffs.

“I mean the show was okay but they literally have a character built entirely on the theme of escapism and trauma. One that’s custom built for mind-screw visuals and reality bending plots and they think she’s just a lazy fangirl who really likes guns that they can sit beside Deadpool sometimes and stick in the X-Men’s bloated background character roster when they don’t need her.”

Gren leads Gwen off the couch and deeper into the void where a door to a bedroom waits. A room like her own, absolutely slopping over with old toys of comic book characters. An unclean messy space in a run-down house that smells faintly of cigarette smoke. Huddled in bed, reading an 80s era X-men comic with a flashlight, is a 12 year old Gwen.

“This is never going to be canon but this is the version of Gwen in this fic. She can’t stop crying at school. Things that shouldn’t be hard are so hard and she can’t explain why. Everyone says she’s making excuses. Meanwhile her mother is fucked out of her mind on pain killers and her step father killed himself last year ‘cleaning his gun’ while drunk. You know exactly what is on her mind right now?” Gren says as she gestures at the girl.

“I wish the superheroes would save me from this.”

“They won’t. They can’t. They were never meant to.” Gren Slams the door loudly on the scene.

“That is the emotional core of Gwenpool in this fic. The desperation that so many of the fans down here in the fucking muck of the real world feel. Poor and emotionally unfulfilled. Confused and vulnerable. If Disney and Marvel gave two fucking shits about people like that they wouldn’t waste as many stories as they do. They wouldn’t just use untold wealth to make expensive escapist stories with the military. Their gestures toward progressive ideas that they occasionally make in their stories would be THE ENTIRE POINT of their stories and the actual thing they used that money for instead of lobbying the government to keep Mickey Mouse out of the public domain.

“Disney has the power yet they save a fucking miniscule fraction of who they could. Saving people doesn’t make money.”

When I Get To The Green Building

Gren stormed through the void. The scene disintegrated around her as Gwen followed. Both now in a bit of a sour mood but with newfound determination.

“Come to think of it. Why is the fucking Hulk getting to fight for social justice in the comics? Why are they making a gay alternate universe Captain America? Why are they grasping at straws so hard to find characters that get to advocate and I am just sitting on a fucking island being grumpy?” Gwen groused. “I’m pretty sure I’m pansexual….at least in this fic. I could advocate for a bunch of shit at once.”

“You have a youth fanbase, a unique story and you technically aren’t an alternate universe version of fucking anything no matter how many people still think you are a Stacey. They made a fucking ‘for the fans’ character and then neglected it. Presumably because some fucking money making metric didn’t pan out despite the comics just being an MCU test kitchen and IP farm anyway.”

“You’re a fucking check mark on a ledger. I don’t even know if anyone technically created Gwenpool as a whole and Disney/Marvel can give the character to whoever they want to do whatever they want completely separate from what the fanbase wants and needs because she isn’t established. The IP landlords have spoken. The fans haven’t risen to enough ‘buy my merch’ calls to action to invest more resources. So tease endlessly until that changes.”

“Gah. Now I'm actually as pissed as you are.” Gwen said as she started fiddling with her guns. “Who do I kill?”

“We can’t do shit. You’re not even a character at this point. You are a meme for an underused character.” Gren smirked all evil like. “See but that’s it. You aren’t just a meme. You’re a MEME.”

“Uhm...I don't follow.”

“Like the concept of Justice. Gwenpool is an idea. Defined entirely by how people who engage with the idea choose to engage with it. The IP law means Disney owns Gwenpool but they don’t own how Gwenpool is perceived. Just like we as a people decide what justice is through popular consent we also decide what Gwenpool is. You see they made a character for the fans…..in my opinion that means the fans can do as they like with it even if it makes Disney uncomfortable.”

“I mean they can’t even stop porn of their characters just because of the sheer volume of the problem. I suppose people could do whatever.” Gwen nodded.

“Exactly. So the fans should just fucking Occupy Gwenpool!” Gren said as she flipped her cape dramatically with a mad smile on her face. That’s right. She was Dirtbag Leftist Gwen all along!

“Squat on that IP. Make Gwenpool a mental health advocate. Make her an LGBTQ activist. Make her fight for social and financial justice so hard that Bruce Banner looks like a poser. Make her talk shit about politicians who put their career ahead of the people. Do all the shit that makes the comicsgate crowd sad. Keep politics in our stories! Rally around that pink and white ass so hard they have to notice and then tie it all to the fact that Disney has great power and with great power they take no responsibility for how shitty the world is.”

“ If they are going to fuck Gwenpool fans they gotta learn Gwenpool fans fuck back. We have already proven we can make all kinds of cool shit. Let’s get serious and make more, harder, faster! Get a hashtag or some shit. They can't DMCA all of us! GWEN IS OURS WE JUST HAVE TO REACH OUT AND TAKE IT. Then they either respect the character and her fans or they just hit a PR disaster.”

“Marvel/Disney neglects fan focused cult character themed protest movements. Proves they are only progressive when it makes them money. They’re so worried about Mickey ending up in the public domain? We’re the public domain! After our entire lives stannin their characters and buyin their merch building them from an animation house into a juggernaut they are just another weight on top of the boot on our necks. They have to take responsibility!” At this point Gren is pretty much ranting maniacally and neglecting the actual writing of the story so this is Gwen taking over to wrap up.

Guys I may not be ‘the real Gwen’ but really, isn’t the version of Gwen that actually came from the real world all of us? Isn’t Gwenpool really the Gwens we made along the way? We could easily bring a little heroism and chaos to the real world (at least to the internet) if we really tried. Put the fear of God into some IP landlords and fight for some cool people that society is screwing over, too.

Prove that even in the fandom abyss people aren’t as powerless as they seem. Use that internet comic fan mobbing for something besides giving Zack more money. Disney is gearing up for their next IP fight for Mickey in 2024. Seems like a fine time for IP themed protests. For now we just need to spread the word that our needs are more important than their profits.

It’s been real. It’s been long. It’s been a real long time coming…..

But I finally finished my fanfic.

See ya, true believers.

#gwenpool #fanfic #deconstruction #outofloveiswear #fortheoriginalwritersnotmarvelordisney #tw mental health #tw mentions of suicide #tw mentions of drug abuse #tw violence #tw gun violence

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bluecloudious · 3 years

Text

Kinda angst I guess (but it has Zanaz so take that with a grain of salt)

Trying out writing a story this time.

I mean, yeah, I wrote for the comics, but not long dialog.

So yea, as per both the funni boys mature content warning. (There's no canoodling, there is talk of it tho.)

Also there's quite a bit of text (8 pages worth on Word)

So ye:

“Get up, I have some juicy gossip for you.”

...What?

I open my eyes and the world around me is blinding. It’s so bright that it takes a second to adjust to it. There’s nothing around me other than vast white and empty space.

This definitely isn’t Nevada anymore. (Unless Hank managed to ruin everything even further somehow.)

“Get up now, I know you heard me.”

I get up and look around. Who the hell is talking? There’s literally nothing but white for miles.

“I’m in your head, pretty boy.”

Uh, that…

“I’m holding my eyes closed, don’t worry. I regret ever having them open in here, in fact.”

Welp, that answers that. Now for the other question.

“Who I am is not important. What info I have, may be of interest, though.”

Alright?

“There’s a deal attached to this knowledge, Zanaz. Hear me out before you start fidgeting.”

I’ll sure try.

“You know Kits, right?”

No duh, he’s my best friend.

“Excellent. He’s going to die soon.”

…

What?! Wha, when, how, uh--

“Calm down, jitterbug. There’s nothing you can do to stop his fate, so don’t try. If he doesn’t die one way, another thing will go wrong. Understand?”

I-- NO! What the fuck?! Are you gonna kill him?!

“No, not me. I’m just sharing the news.”

Yeah, right, sure. Fucking… When then?

“Soon.”

How soon? In a month, week or a few days?

“Hm… A month then, give or take.”

...Fuck… How?

“Depends on what leads up to it.”

So, there are a lot of different ways it can happen, right?

“Indeed there are.”

...Do I die with him?

“No.”

NO?! In none of the different variations, I don’t die by his side?

“Oh, you can be by his side, of course. But death isn’t after you.”

What if I try to block a bullet, but it goes through both of us.

“Oddly specific. You’ll still survive.”

What if I block it with my head?!

“Brain damage, possible vegetable state. Will still survive though.”

What if Hank slices us with one of his multiple katanas?!

“People have lived through being sliced in half before.”

WHAT.

“This world has zombie clowns with god like powers and the AAHW is lead by a man consisting of black fire.”

...Ugh, fair enough. So… Wait those are all possible deaths for him?

“If you do everything in your power for it to happen, then yes.”

I… I can kill him before his time?

“Of course! You have free will, don’t you? It’s more of a question if you want to.”

Of course I fucking don’t! I care about him!

“I saw. You daydream about him an uncomfortable amount.”

He’s the main person I’m around, give me a break!

“Have you ever considered not being horny?”

Until I’m castrated, there’ll be nothing of the sorts.

“You’re not even fertile! None of the clones are!”

You think I’m tryna get anyone pregnant at this sausage fest? Besides, that has not stopped me before.

“I refuse to believe that any of those scenes I saw play out in your head happened for real.”

You’d be surprised then.

“WHICH?!?”

Those are for me to treasure.

“...You’re pulling my leg.”

Believe what you want.

“Augh, never mind, TMI. Back onto the topic at hand.”

Oh, yeah, right. Kit… Dying…

Could you for real not give me a date?

“If it depends on the circumstances beforehand, then there’s no possible way to tell which one belongs to this timeline.”

And that means…?

“I don’t know how this Kits dies.”

Can I at least warn him?

“Well, there’s where the other side of the deal comes in. If you tell him, then the effect kicks in immediately.”

What effect? Death?

“Precisely.”

...Ah. Wait, so if I don’t tell him, he dies in a month but if I do, he dies immediately? Of what?

“Stroke, heart attack or brain aneurysm. Chosen at random. Oh, also sneak assassination. That’s also a valid option.”

...This feels set up.

“Mh?”

This feels like either you or whoever sent you here set this up so I’d suffer. You enjoy the pain of others, don’t you?

“I’m only the messen--”

Yeah, yeah, Messenger Bullshit. Then whoever decided this is probably a reality tv producer, who is jacking off to someone pushing in the soft part of a baby’s skull as we speak. You encourage such behaviour by working with them, ya know.

“...Do you think you sound smart?”

I know for a fact I’m not, so no. I’m pretty sure I’m on the money with this one though.

“If I wasn’t here then Kits’ death would come as a surprise to you though!”

I’d prefer that, actually! Now I have to deal with knowing that he… He… Won’t be here anymore soon.

“Well, knowing how overwhelmingly perverted you are, wouldn’t you wanna grab this opportunity?”

...What?

“Shoot your shot, ask him out. Not like you could do it with a corpse… …Right…?”

I may be horny, but I’m not messed up.

“Had to make sure.”

Ugh, you’re just making fun of me, aren’t you?

“Which instance are you referring to?”

Kit would never date me.

“And why exactly do you think that?”

He has standards?

“You’re a decently handsome fellow. You also get along with him just fine.”

That… That’s not a determinant of shit like that. There’s way better out there for him.

“He won’t meet em then. Only a month to live, remember?”

I… It’s not worth it.

“What isn’t?”

I know he’ll say no, there’s no point in trying.

“How do you know for sure until you actually ask?”

Cause it’s obvious! He’s actually got a brain in his noggin and he knows me way too well! He’d be fucking disgusted, man! We’re just friends and that’s that.

“Do you not want to then?”

...Why do you assume I do? How do you know that those aren’t just blissful fantasies like the rest of them?

“He’s the only one that you dream of in a non-perverted way. I see no other person in this graphic landscape that you want to hold hands with. (Also, I am closing my eyes again now, Jebus Christoff.)”

...Ffffuck.

“Well, did hit the nail on the head?”

Y-You’re stupid and gay!

“I’m rubber, you’re glue.”

That doesn’t affect me, I’m already openly gay and stupid!

“I guess we’re both such then.”

Dammit.

“So, you gonna give him a month to remember or not?”

…Eh?

“Come on, how much romance could a member of the A.A.H.W. really experience throughout their lifetime? If you’d make this month worth his and your own time, perhaps it would be less painful to see him go? At least he died happy?”

THAT WOULD BE EXTRA PAINFUL FOR ME, THOUGH!

“Oop, Zanaz selfish, you heard it here first, folks.”

That’s not what I meant. I’d already be upset over losing my best friend, imagine how fucking devastating losing a sweetheart would be.

“…I dunno, still sounds selfish to me. Does his happiness not mean anything to you?”

Who says he’d be happy with me?

“I know you want to make him happy, at least. You dream about his smile.”

STOP FUCKING LOOKING THOUGH MY THOUGHTS!!

“I’m not looking anymore, I just memorized the ones I already saw. (I wish I couldn’t.)”

I- You- Fucking-- UggHHH! It’s not worth it!

“What exactly do you imagine will happen if you tell him how you feel, huh? World combusts?”

I already told you, he already knows way too much about me! He’d be fucking grossed out and we’ll… We’ll stop being friends.

He’d quicken his pace whenever we’d have to pass each other in one of the halls. He’d desperately keep his glance away from me. He’d… I’d stop being the main person he talks and comes to company for a-and I can’t fucking have that, man!

I-I wouldn’t be able to handle it. He means too much to me.

“…I had no idea you were this insecure.”

FUCK OFF! It’s a bitter reality that I’ve come to accept!

“You haven’t even given it a shot!”

You don’t need to get crushed by a piano to know you’d die on impact!

“Those two things don’t correlate even remotely!”

It’s a metaphor!

“I know that, I’m saying that Kits has a thing for you too!”

…He what?

“He has major league crush on you! The things you say when play-flirting excite him! He’s gotten off to the thought of you touching him up! The works! (Why did I word it like that?)”

Whuh-- How the fuck do you know this??

“While you were monologuing, I visited his subconscious and confirmed it for myself.”

You can do that??

“You don’t even know my name.”

...Fair nuff. So, wait, he’s actually gotten off thinking about me?

“I don’t even need to open my eyes to already know you’re imagining it. Short answer, yes. He’s into you, Zanaz.”

Augh, I dunno what to do with this info. It’s kinda... Overwhelming in a way.

Actually, wait, how do I know you haven’t been lying to me this whole time?

“I’m an incorporeal voice in your head that’s having a back and forth with you in a white void.”

Yeah, and?

“…I’m supernatural?”

Yeah, and?

“Come on! I just know, okay?!”

Sounds fake, not gonna lie.

“The part where I knew that Kits was gonna die was convincing, but the moment I mention that he might have a thing for you, you question the validity of my claims thus far??”

One sounds way more far-fetched than the other, you gotta admit.

“NO IT DOESN’T?!?!”

For you maybe! I’ve known him since I’ve been out the cloning tube! We became agents together! I think I’d know what kinda stuff is off the table for him, buddy.

“Well, not only are you wrong, you’re in denial.”

I am not!

“Then try it! Just attempt asking him out! In the very least, you’ll remain friends after. I promise you. Cross my heart and all that jazz.”

…

…You��re absolutely positive? You are also the person that told me he’d die in a month’s time.

“A hundred percent positive. I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

You have a life?

“Unfortunately. So, you’ll do it?”

Why’re you so adamant about me fucking Kits?

“Affgdgfdgfg, it’s not about you fucking him, it’s you making his last living month worthwhile!”

Okay, so, why do you want me to do that?

“…Do you not??”

I mean, I guess that sounds worth my time. But you didn’t answer my question.

“Sorry for assuming that you want the person you’re madly in love with to be happy, I guess??”

Apology accepted. Now, how do I get outta here?

“Ugh, just wake up.”

Whu--

And I’m sitting up in my own mat, back at the facility. The clock shows that it’s early morning.

What the fuck do I make of what I just saw? Or heard, for that matter? It clearly wasn’t a normal dream, I never remember those. Plus the topic tends to blur together usually.

I gotta tell-- Wait, I can’t do that, fuck.

…

It’s way to early for shit like this, man!!

Augh…

#It's got pictures <:)#OC #Madness combat #I took my time with this one and like how it came out #Augh I had to even edit the text and shit on Tumblr...#I be like *gives Zanaz even more personality*#KitZan

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lu-undy · 3 years

Note

Cats sometimes bring rats or bugs for "gift" to their hoomans.. So Pearl brings Lu a rat proudly and he terrifies. Is it okay for a request?

Here it is!

"Lu'? I'm home!"

"Finally!" A voice answered from the kitchen. "I was starting to worry…!"

Mundy removed his shoes and his coat before going to his lover in the kitchen.

"What's cookin'?" He asked, and a smile appeared on his lips, only because the sight of his lover brought peace to him. Lucien was wearing a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a dark blue pair of trousers. He had an apron laced around his thin waist.

"Not even a hello or a 'how are you' ? I am starting to think that you prefer the food over me." Lucien joked as he was busy stirring something in a saucepan. Mundy came behind him and gently kissed his cheek from behind as he hugged him. “Here, taste this for me please.” Lucien raised the wooden spoon to his own lips first to gently blow on it before moving it to Mundy’s pouting lips.

"Well, what can I say? Not only it tastes amazin’, but it also smells bloody good." Mundy rested his chin on Lucien's shoulder as he watched him cook, his arms still laced around the thin waist he loved.

"The food or me?"

"Stop actin' jealous… I'm talkin' about both." Mundy added a few more kisses down Lucien's neck and the Frenchman started laughing. "You ticklish, jealous, gorgeous doll of a man…"

Lucien put the wooden spoon he was holding aside and turned to Mundy, splaying his hands on his chest. He was smiling wide, looking up to the reason his heart was beating so fast.

"How was work today?"

"Not too bad…" The tall Aussie bent down to kiss his lover's lips. "But I'm happy to be back home. Been missin' you."

"So have I. Do you mind laying the table, please? The soup will be ready any minute now."

"Sure." They exchanged a smile and Mundy got to work, coming and going from the kitchen to the living-room and vice versa. "Oh, let me put more water for Pearl."

Mundy noticed that the cat's water bowl was empty. He took it off of the floor and filled it again.

"Meow!"

The fluffy white feline entered the kitchen and trotted to Mundy. When she reached him, she stood on her back legs, meowing and asking for attention.

"Hey, baby… Here, more water for you."

"Meow!"

"Yeah, I know, c'mere…" Mundy crouched down to carry her in his arms. "Been missin' Dad, eh?" He scratched her and kissed her, standing back up.

"Meow…!" Perle leaned on his shoulder and purred, half-closing her deep blue eyes.

"Yeah, I know, baby, I know. Did she have dinner already?" He asked Lucien.

"Oui, she did." Lucien answered as he served the soup in two bowls.

"Alright, want a treat then?" Mundy went to a cupboard and opened it before his hand dived in a jar.

"Meow…" Perle raised her head as she recognised the melody that usually preceded a treat.

"Here, baby cat." He put it in front of her mouth and she gladly ate it. "Yeah, good girl, good baby." Mundy kissed her.

"Dinner is ready, mon amour."

[My love]

"Oh, Dad's dinner's ready. You go and be a good girl, yeah?" Mundy crouched down and released her. Perle trotted straight to the French window and politely sat down. That was her way of asking to open it. "Wanna go in the garden? Sure, here…" Mundy slid the French window open and the white cloud slithered out.

“You may leave the window open, a bit of fresh air will not hurt.” Lucien said.

“Sure, luv’. Let me take the bowls…” Mundy took them and moved to the living room where he found his lover serving water and wine before sitting down.

“Here, some bread, mon amour.”

[my love]

“Thanks, Lu’. So, what’ve you been up to while I was away?”

The discussion went on as the soup slowly evaporated from their bowls. It wasn’t very cold anymore, winter was gone and spring was well established. Mundy wished it could come faster. He preferred the hot and scorching sun rather than the blue, ice cold weather of winter. Now that he thought about it, he liked ice blue only in one thing, namely, the colour of his lover’s eyes.

“I went to shop for some groceries at the market.” Lucien went on.

“Did you take Pearl with you?”

“Oui, this time she wanted to come along. She behaved very well and managed to resist the urge to jump on the sardines when she saw them.”

“That’s progress I guess.” Mundy chuckled.

“Indeed. So as a reward, I bought her some and fried them for her with a bit of cumin and paprika. She loved it.”

“You don’t need to cook for the kitty, we’re giving her food, and the expensive stuff at that.”

“But wouldn’t you be bored of canned food? It is nice to bring a bit of diversity to her. Besides, she absolutely loved it. I might do it more often.”

“Hold on, you said you bought some fish at the market, right?”

“Oui.”

“Did that fisherman sheila say anythin’ to you again?”

“She might have.” Lucien cocked a smug eyebrow.

“I knew it… Next time, I’ll go with you and if I have to kiss you then and there for her to stop flirtin’ with you, I bloody will!”

“Ooh, how the tables have turned. Back in the kitchen I was the jealous one, but listen to you now, hm?”

“I’m not jealous, she just needs to get it in that thick skull of hers that you’re taken, and that’s that.”

Lucien chuckled and slid his foot under the table closer to Mundy’s, gently brushing his leg against his.

“I love seeing you jealous like this…” The Frenchman admitted with a lovestruck, lazy grin.

“Yeah, well. I get people, they see you and you’re gorgeous. Nice suit, handsome face and beautiful body too. But they gotta understand that you’re not for takin’. I got my hands on you and I’m not ready to let you go.”

“Neither am I.” Lucien answered. “Go and get a change to be more comfy if you want. I will deal with the dishes.”

“You sure?”

“Oui, go ahead.”

“Might as well take a shower too if that’s ok?”

“Take your time, mon chéri.”

[my darling]

Lucien stood up and started collecting the empty dishes on the table when Mundy pulled him away from his waist to hold him close and kiss him.

“I’ll be quick, you behave for me, yeah?” Mundy held his chin between his fingers.

“Anything for you, Mundy.” Lucien’s eyes crossed on the Aussie’s lips. They stretched in a smile. The tall man added a quick peck to his lover’s brow and left him.

Lucien exhaled in a long and longing sigh when his lover disappeared up the stairs before turning to the table and resuming what he was doing.

Upstairs, Mundy went to the bathroom and started stripping naked as he started the shower. He was standing in nothing but his boxer shorts when he heard a loud and high pitched scream coming from downstairs. Without a second thought and leaving the shower still flowing, Mundy spun on his heels and darted back downstairs.

“What’s wrong? Lu’?!”

When Mundy made it in the living-room again, he found Lucien standing up on a chair and leaping to get higher up on the table.

“What is it?!” The Aussie exclaimed, seeing his lover hunched and scared.

“It’s Perle!”

“What’s wrong with her?” Mundy got closer to the lady cat who was standing at the chair’s foot.

“She has a mouse in her mouth!” Lucien yelled, terrified.

“Oh…” Mundy started chuckling. “C’mere, show Dad what you got, yeah?”

Perle turned to Mundy and trotted to him before releasing the dead rodent on the floor. Mundy crouched down and petted her head, scratching her repeatedly.

“Are you not scared?”

“Nah, it’s dead, it’s not gonna run to you, come down, Lu’.”

“Why did she go and get a mouse?!”

“It’s a gift.” Mundy answered.

“A gift?!” Lucien exclaimed.

“Yeah, c’mere, pretty girl, yeah, you did great… Look at Papa…” Mundy chuckled more. “You got him scared, eh?”

“Meow…” Perle’s answer was rolled on her purr.

“Yeah, he doesn’t really like mice. Next time bring him some flowers, yeah?”

“Meow.”

“A gift...?” Lucien repeated as he landed from the table to the chair and finally the ground.

“Yeah, I guess she was happy ‘cause you cooked her the sardines. She just wanted to say thanks.” Mundy stood back up.

“Mon Dieu…” He put a hand on his mouth.

“C’mere…” Lucien approached and took a comically long detour around the dead mouse on the floor. Mundy laced an arm around his lover when he finally arrived against him. “I didn’t know you were scared of mice.”

“They are dirty and carry diseases.” Lucien buried his head deeper in Mundy’s bare, hairy chest.

“You shouldn’t have reacted like that to Pearl. Poor baby didn’t understand why you were scared shitless when she brought you a gift.”

“Well, it is a mouse, Mundy, not a bouquet of roses…”

Mundy chuckled.

“Oh c’mon. You gotta say thanks.”

“Do I? Won’t that encourage her to bring me more dead rodents?”

“It might, but a gift’s a gift. And she went out of her way to hunt down something especially for you. You have to thank her, darl’.”

“Fine…” Lucien crouched down and Perle naturally came to him. He scratched her and heard her purr. “Merci, mon bébé. I am sorry I reacted this way. Now I know that you meant to offer something.”

[Thank you, my baby]

“Meow…”

"Oui, mon bébé. Papa is sorry…” Perle stood on her back paws and Lucien carried her in his arms as he stood back up. “Is there any way I can make it up to her?”

“What about some fish?” Mundy asked and Perle’s head swooshed to him.

“Meow?”

“Yeah, what if Dad cooked some more fish for you, yeah?”

“Non.” Lucien answered.

“What?”

“I cook the fish, you get rid of the dead mouse... Non, Mundy! What are you doing?! Don’t touch it with your hands! What if it bears the plague?!”

“Oh you sissy, it’s just a mouse…” Mundy picked it up from its tail and went to the French window before throwing it far in the garden. He came back and washed his hands thoroughly. “There, Princess Lu’ can breathe normally now, the mouse is out.”

“Are you sure it will not come back?” Lucien skittishly peeked his head in the kitchen where Mundy was wiping his hands. He held Perle in his arms dearly, like a child does a Teddy bear to bring some comfort.

“Meow!” Perle’s pupils blew wide when she saw Dad open the big white box of cold food and take the fish out of it. “Meow…!”

“Lu’, it was dead. Now unless Medic’s out there experimentin’ on it behind our backs, I don’t think it will come back, nah.”

“You are sure it was dead and not pretending?” Lucien insisted.

“Oh, Lu’!” Mundy stopped what he was doing dead and Lucien hunched his back.

“What?” He whispered, looking everywhere around him.

“Listen! I think I heard the mouse’s Dead Ringer…” Mundy said before bursting into laughter.

“Mundy…!”

Lucien crouched to free Perle and-

“Oh, what was that for?” Mundy put a hand on his shoulder where Lucien had gently punched him.

“Mocking my Dead Ringer. It was a very precious tool!”

“Oh, come on… Oh-ho, are you that scared?” Lucien had slid to Mundy’s arms and was clinging to his naked skin, sandwiched between the kitchen top and his lover.

“Do not mock me, not only does it carry diseases but it was dead and disgustingly decomposing, ew!” Lucien pulled his nose and winced.

Mundy chuckled and laced an arm around him.

“Right, stay here stuck to me like a snail while I make the kitty her fish.”

“Meow…” Perle had jumped on the counter and raised her paw to the plate of fresh sardines.

“Perle, non, don’t touch it.” Lucien said.

She brought her paw closer to the fish.

“Pearl…” Mundy added, and the lady cat removed her paw. She sat down and licked her chops repeatedly.

“She listens to you better than she does me.”

“Well, like her Papa…” Mundy started. “She likes authority sometimes.” He put a pan on the stove and started the fire before adding a drizzle of olive oil in it.

Lucien blushed when he raised his eyes and saw Mundy winking at him.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

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eolewyn1010 · 3 years

Text

Rambling

I’m salty, time to dissect a random piece of media.

So, there’s a very pretty little comic that crossed my dash recently. I’m not gonna link/reblog it here because it’s quite popular and I’m not in the mood for getting hated upon because of my negative opinion, but the synopsis is as follows:

Cinderella and her prince are happy together at first, but their marriage soon cools off because the prince apparently prefers to hang out with “younger and prettier women, daughters of nobles whose hands have never done a day’s work”, and Cinderella is bored out of her mind because she spent her entire life working and thus had never the time to develop any hobbies. She enjoys cooking and sewing, which is apparently not princess-y. Also doesn’t really take to court life with balls and representation and stuff, feeling it all is becoming routine. She learns all that nobility stuff and tries to get her prince’s attention back with a couple project, but eventually, he’s off to moon over other princesses again and she stops caring. One day, she finds the old diaries of a Princess Aurora aka Sleeping Beauty, becomes intrigued, then very intrigued with this mysterious far-off lady who loves poetry, eventually finds her, wakes her up and elopes with her. Many years later, they are two lovely old ladies running a bookshop and living their sweet married lives.

Cute, amirite?

Well.

Let’s start off with the prince, shall we? Why would he be so disinterested in her? We never get a reason for that. The story says that Cinderella did “stop worrying about a man who had gotten what he wanted from her”... eh, no? She’s his wife. He married her; that relationship should be worth something. If for no other reason, then at least for representational purposes and taking the effing time to make an heir. Why should he have already gotten all he wanted out of her? And what happened to their lovestory, anyway? He was very much in love with her once. What, was she not royalty enough to entertain him? But she showed a good will to learn - and teaching her stuff and sharing things with her she didn’t know yet would have been a very good reason to spend time together. It’s also established that Cinderella reads a lot and falls in love with Aurora over a shared interest in poetry. After it has been established that the prince wrote her poems and songs, so you can’t even tell me they had no common interests, because they obviously did. But I guess if we want to get the guy out of the equation, the only way to elevate the lesbian couple as inherently superior is by making the guy a neglectful, cheating dick. Whatever.

Then, Cinderella. WHERE’S THE COMMUNICATION, FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE? She tries to reconnect with the prince via spending time together, but at no point does she go, “honey, there’s something not right with our relationship, we should work on that.” At no point does she confront him or face her own insecurities about being not good enough of a partner. Maybe they could have worked it out, maybe not, but they sure could have found a better way of separating than Cinderella just running off into the night without ever telling her husband what the heck is the situation between them? Yeah, the prince is a dick, but we’re never shown Cinderella actively working on salvaging their relationship. She just stops caring - and doesn’t even communicate that. Cersei and Robert Baratheon had better communication than that; at least they could openly admit to each other that their marriage was garbage. There’s also the thing about “younger and prettier women”. Ew? In every Cinderella iteration, she’s younger than twenty, an appropriate age to be unwed in non-modern times. She’s also here about the same age as Aurora who was definitely a teen when she fell asleep, so... are you trying to tell me the prince is a pedophile? Or just that he’s shallow? Only that the first thing we’re told about Aurora when Cinderella finally sees her in person is that she’s ✨ beautiful ✨, so, double-standard much?

As for the “hands that had never seen a day’s work”... yeah, what is a lady suposed to do? Except managing THE ENTIRE FUCKING HOUSEHOLD of the royal palace, very much practicing the handicraft that women of higher stand are expected to deliver just the same (and no, I don’t mean pretty embroidery, I mean useful stuff, like repairing clothes, because clothes were expensive and you didn’t just walk to the next store and buy new ones whenever), administrative duties in the government (how does the prince have so much time to hang out with ladies? Doesn’t he have a country to run or something?), so Cinderella should have been massively out of her depth, not bored whatsoever.

And then, the relationship with Aurora. Which starts off entirely one-sided as Cinderella becomes attached to what she assumes is a dead girl who left some diaries. Which seems to count as love, apparently, considering she manages to wake her up and we have a True Love’s Kiss protocol to follow here. Thing is, I have feelings for people I’ve never met in person, online friends, not romantic feelings, but sure as hell the one or other massive squish. BUT - those developed via interaction. We exchanged questions, opinions, we discussed. I wrote something, and something came back. That’s how relationships are built. Cinderella gets nothing back from Aurora for the simple reason that Aurora is kind of fridged for the time being, so... how is that “falling in love”? And how is it better than her relationship with the prince? Woohoo, instead of marrying someone she’s spoken to three times at a few parties, she now marries someone she’s never spoken to at all! Great! Someone she really has things in common with, like poetry! You know, like the poetry her husband used to write for her when she still bothered to interact with him! The story has a time skip from “Cinderella finds Sleeping Beauty” to “many years later, happily ever after”, so we’re clearly expected to take for granted that they hit it off the second Aurora was awake. That Cinderella’s “fallen in love with diaries” was sufficient relationship-building. Also, “routine”? What, you think running a bookshop is never going to be routine? Hate to break the news to you, but love has to function in everyday life.

If you wanna have that lesbian princesses fairytale, why not write an original story instead of derailing an existing one? I guess I wouldn’t mind so much if the prince hadn’t been so trampled on as a character. He has to suck so the rest is great? Uhm, why couldn’t they talk about it and come to the mutual conclusion that they don’t work as a couple? Could make for an interesting fairytale to have people behave like adults.

Anyway. You wrote a queer lovestory, congratulations. I just don’t think it’s a very good one.

#something about a Cinderella comic #thanks for coming to my brat talk #it's not hate it's an analysis thank you very much

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davidmann95 · 4 years

Note

How'd you like the new Death Metal special (and, more broadly, this week's comics)?

pretenderoftheeast said: Comics this week (12/9/2020)?

Batman: Black and White #1: The first of a platter of anthologies today:

* The Tynion/Moore story is predictably fire.

* JHIII is JHIII. Also he does a really nice surprising story about how Batman’s relating to this moment of the time, but let’s be real, you’re here because JHIII, and be assured he is JHIII as helllll here and it’s great.

* Dini/Kubert plays as the former building a story around accommodating requests by the latter, but that’s not a bad thing, and glad to see Kubert’s kept up the pace since his DK3/Up In The Sky creative rejuvenation.

* Ok I’m a philistine who has no idea what that Emma Rios thing was about but it was certainly pretty.

* Wilson doing Batman is surprisingly disappointing, but Smallwood doing Batman definitely isn’t.

DC’s Very Merry Multiverse: Not a very merry time! I hate to say it given this should be so geared to my interests, but this is the weakest overall effort we’ve gotten from one of DC’s quarterly anthologies in a good long while, at least among those I’ve picked up. Not to say it’s a dud, there are several nifty little stories in here including the much-hyped first appearance of Kid Quick (destined to become the Flash of Future State) and really almost everything here reaches ‘pretty okay’. But for $10, and a creative space that should reach so much more than ‘pretty okay’, I don’t know that this is a justifiable recommendation unless you’re understandably desperate for all the President Superman content you can get your hands on.

Tales of the Dark Multiverse: Flashpoint: I’m surprised I got it too, but the preview grabbed me and in practice it was a fun, mean little high-concept adventure of Reverse Flash being a total cock.

Wonder Woman #768: Credit where it is due, this has been getting a bit better in its closing stretch.

Dark Nights: Death Metal: The Last Stories of the DC Universe: This ruled. Obviously there was the one story folks are most interested in, but almost all of the tales in here lived up to being a ‘final’ story of sorts for their leads.

* The Titans bookenders were pretty nice even if it’s hilarious that their big rallying cry basically amounts to “by god, our book may be shit, but we’re valuable IP so we’ll never be cancelled!”

* Green Lantern is basically an epilogue to Johns’ run sans the baggage of bringing back Johns (that we get in two weeks with Secret Origin and god forgive me I’m so looking forward to that), and definitely one of my favorite efforts from Lemire.

* Wonder Woman’s the stinker in what’s nominally her own event. I can parse the roots of most bad Superman stories one way or another, but I just can’t understand what’s behind most bad Wonder Woman stories beyond that the people handling it simply don’t give a shit.

* Astonishingly, the Green Arrow and Black Canary chapter in here might be my favorite of the bunch? Simone at her best, a really sweet slice of playful, sincere romance about two characters I’m not by default invested in but ended up quite caring for here.

* This Aquaman story is everything I generally hate in Aquaman stuff, a big long maudlin speech about the weight of the world as he swims through a black featureless ocean, except here between the real heart Sebela brings to the script and the mood artist Christopher Mooneyham manages to evoke, it all clicks together.

* The Batman Family story feels like it can’t quite make its pacing work, but it’s still a heartfelt little ode to the theoretical power of the concept.

* Hey, that Mark Waid guy? Turns out he can write him some Superman. It’s not perhaps the total barnburner you might have expected - I imagine he’s saving his biggest hits for later - but it’s a very solid execution of a gangbusters concept, and Manapul steals the show with absolutely sensational, gorgeous scenic Superman imagery. I’mma say 60/40 in favor of them doing a Superman project together on either a main book or Black Label (I know Manapul was supposed to be locked into a creator-owned thing with Scott Snyder but that was ages ago), because this is a paring that’s yielded some immediate results and I imagine everyone knows it. And given my upbringing, nice to see a big, iconic, beautiful Superman story with him rocking the mullet.

Anonymous said: Haha holy shit Crossover is literally Cates taking that page where Spawn meets all the corporate heroes locked up and spinning it out into a series

Anonymous said: Does Crossover #2 hold the crown for the funniest, dumbest, most baffling opening page ever?

Crossover #2: Readers I’m not too big to admit I laughed my ass off at the first page, and at least a little bit for the actual reasons intended. The sense of homaging that Spawn scene in the context of a book about “Gosh, isn’t IP the best folks?”, or Cates’ dialogue...(shall we say) proving why he likes the concept of ellipses enough to name a character after them aside though? That it’s already crossed the line with its central metaphor from “indefensibly insensitive in its ridiculous self-centeredness” to “out-and-out cartoonishly offensive” somehow actually makes it more rather than less palatable; there’s no longer the secondhand embarrassment of waiting to see how bad Cates is going to handle this, it simply is the worst it could possibly be and readers have to accept and perhaps revel in the sight of him stepping on rake after rake. I cannot wait for him to finally give an interview on this book where he explains what the hell he thinks this looks like, and I hope my dad keeps somehow enjoying it forever because I totally wanna see what pit this descends to next.

Penultiman #3: This is absolutely agonizing and probably the most relatable take on a ‘superman’ ever.

Home Sick Pilots #1: A new creator-owned book from Dan Watters (whose big two credits include the stupendous “Afraid of America” with John Paul Leon in the last Batman Secret Files, and the upcoming Future State: Superman/Wonder Woman) and Peter Cannon’s Caspar Wijngaard, this new book set against the backdrop of a Californian high school’s punk scene in 1994 describes itself as “Power Rangers meets The Shining (yes, really)”. The former influence isn’t much in play yet, but thus far this is a book that merges building tension and freewheeling dopey teen bullshit to an extent that’s subtly impressive as hell, and seems likely to proudly take a place among the current horror comic renaissance.

Warhammer 40,000: Marneus Calgar #3: Ok again I don’t have any experience with this franchise but you’d better believe that cultural osmosis was enough that I popped for BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!

King in Black: Namor #1: Kurt Busiek’s return to Marvel...sucks? Such is the power of Knull I guess even if he doesn’t manifest within the actual story here, this is a complete nothing of a comic and I’m not tuning in for issue #2.

Avengers #39: Eh, I’m not liking Aaron Avengers when it gets remotely serious nearly as much as when he’s doing stuff like having them finally help Blade with all those vampires or Captain America assisting with the delivery of an exploding space-baby in the back of a muscle car.

Anonymous said: That new Guardians of the Galaxy was something else. What do you think the odds are that Comic Books, with a decade or two of hindsight, recognizes Ewing as one of the best to ever do it?

Guardians of the Galaxy #9: I lack much context here beyond recalling from an interview that this is Ewing’s way of grappling with the ideas from Steve Englehart’s original unrealized vision of Star-Lord’s character arc, but wherever it stems from this is a hell of a comic.

S.W.O.R.D. #1: This is everything I’ve wanted from the non-Hickman X-books since the moment HoXPoX ended, and so much more, and also it is basically hilarious that Ewing is all but explicitly using his clout to force Marvel to let him to Ultimates3 under a currently cancellation-proof banner. Most importantly of all, Ewing has already mastered the subtle art of writing not merely Magneto, but the infinitely superior Jonathan Hickman Magneto. And good lord Schiti and Gracia, I already knew they were top-tier but these pages’d make a grown man cry.

#Week's Comics #Opinion

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saltysmoothie · 3 years

Note

(falls headfirst into your ask box but it’s like a mail slot so my arm just comically sticks out holding a note that reads) 5 and 7 for veron. 19 for chantrell and 18 for serendipity

*takes the note from your hand and attempts an awkward high five with your hand until you’re able to get your arm unstuck*

Veron

5. What is your favorite thing to do in your free time?

Read, mostly! If I’ve got a good book on hand, what better time than when I’m just hanging around to just read something, whether it’s non-fiction or fiction. Well, I am a little picky on what kind of book it is, I tend to enjoy a book about magic or something related to nature and wildlife, sealife especially is interesting. I’ve also been fiddling with the cartographer’s kit lately as well! Uh... but I’m actually not that great with it, feathers aren’t the greatest at writing stuff and I’m sort of not that great with that sort of thing, but I’m a little more confident about using it now that I’m back with my captain as of now! She’s actually pretty good with directions, she’s been at it for a long time.

7. Who do you look up to?

Well... A lot of people, actually, not just one person. And I don’t just mean that literally, heh h eh heh... But seriously yeah uh, my captain of course, she’s really well-accomplished and smart, and the fact that she has enough confidence in me to be a better user of magic means a lot more than I can really even convey with words... And then there’s the folks I met while we were out getting artifacts, I honestly can’t be any more thankful for the fact that they cared and stood for me despite everything. There was just so many moments where Dedan, Quill, or Setac supported me through and through and that also meant much more to me than I, again, can convey with words. It was truly incredible.

Chantrell

19. What makes you sad?

Hmmmm... That’s a toughie. I guess, the first thing that comes to mind has to do with my work. See, I like working with material from the dead, I’ve found both fascination and inspiration from making bone jewelry, leathermaking, working with skulls, the like... To see folks heckle and throw hate at those things just because they think it’s “grotesque” like that is incredibly disheartening. Sure, I shrug it off most time, but it can get to me and agitate my creative focus. I’ve learned to just ignore it most of the time though, unwanted criticism is unwanted criticism as usual. I’ll take any appreciation of my craft if it manages to come my way. ....Are you interested in one, by the way?

Serendipity

18. What’s the best way to cheer you up?

Ah god, I’ve got a lot of ways to feel better especially after having kind of a sucky day, they might sound boring but eh. But yeah, normally I just tend to try and take care of myself, make sure I’m eating okay and not worsening or fucking myself up and all. Taking! Walks! Is! Good! For! My! Health! I don’t know why I said it like that actually, but it’s still important, goddamnit! Honestly too, I’ll pick up one of my favorite games or bake something to get my mind off something if I need cheering up. The Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks fucking SLAPS, and it makes me feel good so I’ll just go play it for a few hours and calm down. That’s my shit. Or I’ll make some cookies and take them to my friend, she likes everything I make and making stuff for both of us to enjoy honestly makes my day alone. ........(*whispering* though uh. Just between you and me. I’m Good Karma, and I can just kinda jump to the top of a building and watch the city for a bit. That’s a rare instance for me but sometimes it’s nice to get away from my own life and watch the sky or the people go by. Yknow what? It’s just fun in general to jump from rooftop to rooftop. Makes me feel free.)

#my ocs #ask meme #oc meme #ask #self-aware-mushroom #veron #veron pulstus #chantrell #chantrell detritus #serendipity #serendipity donner #good karma #thank you for the ask jay;;;;#YES serendipity is 16 yes she swears like a sailor that’s just what being a high school sophomore is like sometimes

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granddaughterogg · 4 years

Text

The day Death forgot something - part 1

Soo, guys, this was supposed to be a short story. Ya know, an itty bitty one. But it has grown to such a degree that I see no point in putting it here in its entirety. After all no one wants to read my long-ass posts.

This is mostly domestic fluff with a slice of life feel to it. Found family, sibling interactions, Reader being both Death and War’s girlfriend (not yet Strife’s, it’s Complicated) as a background and all that jam. Includes my headcanon that War hates spiders, because I find it hilarious. Perfectly SFW.

It seems that whichever chaotic deity stood behind those incidents, they’ve saved their best for War.

It all started with a leaky roof.

The Four have bought themselves - and you - a house. They did so with coinage looted in countless different realms. You'd always treasure the facial expression of the bank clerk. Poor guy squirmed in his seat while explaining to four freakishly tall, fiery-eyed, fully armoured individuals that Makers' hacksilver (mere 26 pounds apiece) doesn't register as "money" in those parts.

Most interesting day in his career, that's for sure.

The house in question was old.

Not dilapidated; just run-down enough to justify the low price. It has soon become obvious that it will have to be torn down and then rebuilt to fit the non-standard sized tenants. Poor War always felt so despondent among tiny human doorframes, their pitifully brittle walls and dainty knickknacks, prone to shattering at the slightest nudge.

You know, like tables and such.

Strife could navigate among those just fine; despite being the noodle of the pack, he’s got the proprioception of a seasoned ballerina. Still claimed that all this hunching makes his back hurt.

Death and Fury could fit into a human-sized environ without much problem.

Yet she bristled at the thought of wearing lower heels, and your beloved would loathe admitting that he’s a short Nephilim. One thing is to know something; another altogether is to put it into words.

Death has a recurring problem with this sort of thing.

So you didn’t make him. This house needed revamping anyway.

And it has been done. After countless trips to the local Home Depot, after summer weeks full of construction work - while you lived in a tent in the overgrown garden and the Four camped under the stars like they’re accustomed to. After amazing feats of Horseman cooperation and as much squabbling (Strife and Death had opposite opinions on anything), the house has been finally ready to be lived in.

Under the latter’s lead, your boys displayed adeptness at carpentry, even if they didn’t pay much heed to the decorative side of things. War etched some protective sigils into the walls, the doorstep and the ceiling joist - and that was it. You had no idea what those exactly mean, but they sure glowed pretty in the dark.

The house turned out to have a raw, pioneer aesthetic. There was a rustic stone hearth and lots of stained wood everywhere. You thought this starkness to be rather fetching.

Fury - who couldn’t be bothered to work with wood, but did care about them comforts and frills - made Death undertake another shopping trip. This time towards IKEA.

You enjoyed your first night spent in a proper bed like nobody’s business. Only partially because this was also Death’s bed.

And then the roof started to leak.

It was a slow leak at first. One morning Strife would drag his long ass down the stairs for breakfast, yawning and scratching, tendril hair pointing every which way, and claimed that he’s woken up to water splashing on his face.

„Maybe a bird relieved itself on you”, said Death flatly.

„In my own bed?!”

„Must have been a dedicated bird”, was the uncharitable response, followed by a swig of coffee. (Black, no sugar.) Fury rolled her eyes to high heavens but said nothing. You on your part couldn’t help but titter; even War’s dour Morning Expression gave way to a snort. Strife shot him a side-eye.

„Don’t you neigh, my square-shaped brother. Birds don’t poop on your head cuz they can’t find it.”

The Big Guy harrumphed and focused on his cereal. Strife slumped on a chair with an annoyed puff, stuffing his face with two toasts at once.

Next time is was Fury who fell prey to the stealthy leak. One day you dropped by to chat. She was brushing that awe-inducing mane of hers while sitting in front of a large mirror. Fury had a proper vanity installed in her bedroom; a sturdy, antique-looking affair, covered with lots and lots of little bottles. As far as you knew, all of them contained some sort of magic. Fury took this whole beautifying thing to the next level.

So there she was, styling her coif with a self-indulgent smoulder when – PLOP! - something fell from the ceiling and landed precisely on the top of her head.

Fury shrieked.

„WET!” she cried out, eyes bulging, hands frantically pawing the ruined hairdo. „What was that, Little One? WHAT WAS THAT?!”

You suspected that the disgrace of having bird droppings touch her precious hair would cause someone as vain as Fury to shave it all off. And to remain bitterly bald while never, ever disclosing the reasons for doing so.

So it was with relief that you could state what you just saw:

„Oh, it’s just water.”

„Water?” She eyed the ceiling suspiciously, both hands still submerged inside the fluttering blue flame (Ice Hollow was the look du jour). „But...how?...”

Both of you glared upwards like two paranoid magpies. Still, nothing else has happened.

It seems that whichever chaotic deity stood behind those incidents, they’ve saved their best for War.

It happened during dinnertime, too. You’ve just cooked a new dish – garlic butter shrimp pasta – and proudly displayed it to the Horsemen. The twins were already munching in abandon. Death excused himself politely. He seldom ate at all but would stay at the table nonetheless, sipping his extra bitter coffee or as unforgiving tea. You knew he did this entirely for your sake.

Meanwhile, the established big eater of the bunch seemed to have his reservations.

You watched the Red Guy pin his eyes to the full plate in front of him, fighting to retain his stony expression. The corner of his mouth twitched.

„What is it, baby?” You teased. „The shrimps are well and truly cooked. They ain’t gonna pounce at you.”

War exhaled. „Don’t misunderstand me, Little One...” he said, eyeing the dish with comic seriousness. „I would never dare to question your, eh, cooking abilities. I am just not that fond of food with tiny legs. It reminds me of many a thing I had to slay...”

„War’s afraid of spiders!” Strife chimed in, his mouth full.

The Big Guy sputtered in indignation.

„I am not afraid of anything”, he stated, accosting his enfant terrible of a brother with a glare. „I just don’t like things that...walk like that.” He made a crawling gesture with his good hand.

„Too bad”, Strife licked his long fingers. „This shit’s delicious!”

War crinkled his wide nose and said nothing.

„So it’s about the visuals, huh?” you said, struck by an idea. „Would it be okay for you to try it just a little bit - if you couldn’t see it ?”

„Huh?” War clearly didn’t follow.

„Please don’t make our brother eat with his eyes closed”, murmured Fury between slurping in more pasta. „He makes a fair mess as it is.”

„Wouldn’t dream of it”, you grinned. „What I mean is: just close your eyes and I’ll hand feed you.”

„...Okay.”

Death cocked an eyebrow - his lip curving upwards - but he said nothing.

„Uh-oh,” said Strife. „Here comes the lovey-dovey stuff. Excuse me while I go and puke.”

„And put all this food to waste?” Fury taunted.

The gunslinger shrugged in defeat and went back to munching.

You picked a decent amount of food on the fork, lifted it and smiled at War, who stared you in the face with that endearingly earnest expression. He must’ve really hated arthropods in any shape or form, you thought. Yet he was willing to overcome his disgust.

For you.

„Close your eyes.” He did, and suddenly there was much less light at the table. „Open wide!”

That he also did. You placed the shrimp inside his mouth with a jeweller’s precision. Strife sniggered.

„...Well?”

War’s snowy eyelashes fluttered while he pressed his jaws together, focusing on the taste. You saw his Adam’s apple bob a little.

You loved this big lug of a man so much.

„How is it?”

„Mmm. Good.” Those lightning blue eyes were looking at you again, wide and smiling. „This was really good.”

„Well then, ready for another round?”

War nodded, pressed his eyelids together and gaped, willing and trustful in that childlike way of his which always turned your cynical heart into jelly.

PLOP.

Suddenly many things happened at once.

Strife howled with laughter, while Fury’s face became a picture of slack-jawed bewilderment. Death, always the quickest to react, was already standing up, one hand pushing his chair aside and the other outstretched protectively towards War. Who was clearly choking.

You watched the Big Guy wheeze and gurgle as if glued to your seat, paralyzed, motionless, the shellfish on your fork like some absurd sceptre.

You didn’t do this.

Death kicked War’s chair out of the way and held his brother in some Nephilim rendition of a Heimlich Maneuver, shaking him unceremoniously through the coughs until the latter went slack in his grasp.

Finally, War stopped wheezing and did a dog shake.

Only then you were finally able to move.

„Oh, fuck. War. Are you all right?”

„I seem to be.” The Big Guy shot you a dizzy half-smile. Flyaway strands of hair covered his reddened face.

Death cautiously let him go and taxed you with a somewhat less-than-tender stare.

„I didn’t do this!” It hit as hard as a spoken accusation. You waggled the fork with the shrimp still on it. „I didn’t do anything!”

„Then what in the Nine Hells was that?” Fury wanted to know.

„Water”, gasped War, pointing upwards. „A lot of water fell into my mouth at once...I think.”

The four of you suspiciously eyed the ceiling.

Except for the lanky one, who was still guffawing.

„Strife. Did you see that happen?” Death’s voice was perfectly level. Focusing on the task at hand. You felt relief washing all over you; the Reaper clearly didn’t think that you just tried to choke his favourite brother.

Which was a good thing...your bond notwithstanding.

And out of the Four D might’ve been the fastest to react, but it was the gunslinger who had the perfect eyesight.

„Y-yeah!” Strife wiped the tears of mirth away. „Like, at least half a litre at once – boom! Hilarious.”

„What is so damn funny?” You could do with less of Strife’s sense of humour right now.

„Aw, come on there, pumpkin pie. It’s not like he could die from that. Or from anything else.”

You rethought this statement. „Right...yet D reacted!”

„Death used to do this all the time when we were kids”, Fury said softly, tilting her head in your direction. „We’d choke on anything, really. And back then, before we were anointed Horsemen we could have actually died, you know.”

„I guess old habits die hard”. Strife put on his shit-eating grin.

War nodded at his eldest and that was it. The whole „thank you for caring” compressed into one curt gesture.

You smiled at War and then at Death. He caught your kind, appreciative stare, pressed his lips together and looked away.

PLOP!

(to be continued)

#darksiders #darksiders fluff #darksiders war #darksiders death #darksiders fury #darksiders strife #horsemen/reader #polyamory as background flavour #domestic fluff #Horsemen as siblings

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gffa · 4 years

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Scattered Star Wars Thoughts: - I’m sad that The High Republic won’t be coming out until 2021 instead of starting in August of this year, but This Week In Star Wars said that there would be more reveals coming soon and I’m very curious about that. I’m very curious about this initiative overall, especially because it describes the Jedi as being at their zenith, when it’s always been kind of said that the prequels Jedi were at their height--but, I guess, things like Kanan saying, “At their height, the Jedi numbered 10,000 Knights in the galaxy” doesn’t have to refer to the prequels era, it could be the High Republic era, too. I’m wondering if the rumors about a tie-in video game are true or if it’ll be more publishing announcements (like comics or guidebooks or what have you) or something else entirely. I heard movie rumors, but I’m not putting much stock in that yet. Eh, as long as this initiative isn’t used to bash on the prequels Jedi, the whole “look how good these Jedi are, it just shows how stinky and terrible those Jedi are!” (which would really weaken the story, imo, because it would make the High Republic painted with such a snotty, judgmental brush and, like, that’s the opposite of compassion and empathy, any Jedi worth their salt, whether they agreed with the prequels Jedi or not, would come from a place of empathy and care and good faith, not judgment and derision), I’ll be curious to see what it’s like. And I’m AUUUGHHH about having to wait, because Soule’s first SW novel was something I was really looking forward to! - I finished the first Animorphs audiobook (I’d previously read four or five of the books a few years back, but that’s it, I never read them when I was younger, so I’m still avoiding spoilers) and I think the audio versions are going to be really helpful for me. As much as I love reading and that some books work better for me in text form (especially adult novels), I get a lot more into a YA book when there’s an audiobook version. (See: pretty much all the Star Wars YA books, they’re REALLY GOOD for me in audio form! Like Join the Resistance! is one of my favorite series because it worked so well in that format.) And, yeah, the first book is just as intense as I remember it being, but I really do enjoy those kids. I know fandom probably has mixed feelings about Cassie especially, she does get a bit “the most precious and wonderful” treatment, but whatever SHE IS A SOFT, SWEET GIRL AND I LOVE HER SO MUCH. Listen, as much as I love hot mess lady characters as my usual default, sometimes I am just weak to the sweet, precious ones who are kind and generous to everyone. - I think Puppet History is currently my favorite Watcher show (this week’s episode was HILARIOUS, the song from the ending cracks me up every single time--though I think it’s better if you don’t know it’s coming) and I’m so glad that Shane has the chance to do this history stuff again, because I loved Ruining History and this is clearly the spiritual successor. Also, CHRIST, Ryan Interviews Shane in a Haunted House for Spooky Small Talk has me losing my shit all over again just thinking about all the jump scares they put Ryan and Shane through and the absolute NON-REACTION Shane has, that he barely even blinks a hello, is THE FUNNIEST THING. I was skeptical about them branching out from Buzzfeed, but I enjoy their work and there are some episodes that are pretty stellar. And I genuinely enjoy Watcher Weekly, just the three of them chatting about stupid shit is delightful to me. Scattered Star Wars Thoughts/2020 Resolutions Update: - Claudia Gray interview - The Clone Wars BTS Current total: 245/260 Scattered Everything Else Thoughts/ 2020 Resolutions Update: - Black Sails s03e01-06 - Animorphs book #1 Current total: 369/260 Star Wars Fic Recs 2020 Resolutions Update Current total written: 226/520

#scattered star wars thoughts

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twistednuns · 4 years

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February 2021

Irises and purple, lavender and white hyacinths. For merely three bucks. What a gorgeous bouquet.

My own thai curry recipe. It's THAT delicious.

A pep talk from Manu. Realising I really need to take more chances. And get rid of that dude I've been hanging out with. I've been feeling so stuck lately. I'm toying with the idea of giving it all up. Quitting my job. Leaving the country. Just to see what happens. Because I'm pretty sure I'll love what happens next. / Whatever worlds you live in, there are other worlds out there. If you are uninspired living life a certain way, it’s your duty to change. Nothing, not a relationship or job or housing situation, is worth sacrificing your ravenous hunger for life for. X

I feel my obsession with artificial cherry flavour creeping back up on me. Cherry-flavoured diet coke is one of my guiltiest pleasures.

I keep seeing those multicolour graffiti tags everywhere and I finally found out what kind of pen they use for this effect! I ordered one, I just had to, and it's fantastic. So beautiful and vibrant! I've already asked around how illegal it is to walk around the neighbourhood signing my tag on random surfaces...

Fresh pineapple.

The ocean. Talking about diving. Watching documentaries about marine life like My Octopus Teacher and Blue Planet. Drawing nautical objects, sea dragons and mollusks.

Learning more about apophenia.

It actually smells like spring in the forest and the days are already so much longer. I even saw a deer jumping over the path last night. I even got Frank to join my on my walk for the first time.

A little glimpse of summer. The south of France is my happy place I keep going back to. But there are more little reminders of the world out there, of travel and summer, that I thoroughly enjoy. Like watching Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat with Samin Nosrat. Not only do I really want to try making my own Tahdig now but I also kept smiling throughout the whole show because they filmed episodes in Italy, Japan and Mexico. Just imagine walking across a citrus market in the Yucatan right now. Or making Pesto Genovese with an Italian nonna in a Ligurian castle. Maybe even learning how to make your own miso in a remote corner of Japan. There is so much longing within me at the moment. What made my virtual culinary travels even better was Netflix's Street Food series. I especially enjoyed the episodes from Bolivia and Mexico.

I May Destroy You. Different, and very relevant.

This year's Valentine's Day happened to be pretty rad. So I've exchanged the boring nerd I had been dating with an exciting artist from Colombia. John is a painter, a poet, photographer and filmmaker who gave me a Spanish copy of an Oscar Wilde book with a poem he had written for me. My cold and cynical German heart is not used to wooing on this level but I love it. On Sunday we walked through the English Garden and Schwabing in the sunshine, took photos, looked at some art and antiquarian bookshop windows. We saw two cats inside the cat café, bought fancy macarons at Maelu and just kept talking. I even found a few interesting books about dream interpretation on my way home. John has a reference to Kleist's tragedy Penthesilea tattooed on his collarbone - Küsse/Bisse ("das reimt sich, und wer recht von Herzen liebt, kann schon das eine für das andre greifen"). He is a Scorpio with impeccable taste and sends me songs he plays for me on the guitar / Cocteau Twins tunes upon waking up. I really needed this.

Having my students create English comics with Pixton. I love how much their avatars actually look like them! I hope they had fun, too.

The smell of cherry-flavoured candy wafting through the air.

Semolina pudding with banana. The subtle heat does something to the bananas; the combination is simply delicious.

I watched the first season of Chef's Table and was really impressed by Francis Mallmann. I admire his courage and lifestyle. The constant change he craves. The way he speaks foreign languages and just bravely does his very own, unique thing. I want to live like that, too.

A crystal clear view of the Orion constellation.

Very fine snow powder against the sunlight. As if it was raining glitter.

Feeling cool and confident. A fleeting feeling but it makes such a big difference.

When we practice forgiveness, we let go of shame. Embedded in our shame is always a sense of being unworthy. It separates. Compassion and forgiveness reconnect us. / reading bell hooks' all about love.

Mustering up enough motivation to go through all my stuff in the basement and put a few items on eBay. I'd been putting this off for years now.

I'm amazed how good my phone camera is. I took some pictures in the pitch-black forest and you can make out the moonlight on the path and even see star constellations on the photo.

Spending quality time with a cuddly kitty boi.

Blue corn quesadillas prepared for me by a bloody gorgeous Mexican metalhead.

Writing that message I should have written weeks ago (letting Simon know that I wasn't particularly interested in dating him anymore).

Trolli burgers. The best gummy candy out there. Arguably the most fun. I love being able to disassemble my food and eat it layer by layer.

John's story about that acid trip on a boat somewhere in the ocean off the Colombian coast. They lay under the bright moonlight and were suddenly surrounded by Gray whales communicating with each other through song.

The spicy smell of a fresh, moist loaf of rye bread. Eating it with soured butter and salt.

The first snowdrops of the year.

Another one about the moon: walking home late one evening there was a lunar corona in the fog. I loved how the light illuminated my arms in that cool, white light.

The morning after the worst weekend in months or maybe even years (with both a mental breakdown and a medical emergency because misery loves company, eh?) Waking up early, pain-free. With a little spark of excitement and motivation. Just lying around for an hour in the darkness. Meditating. Falling back asleep for a little while. Getting up eventually, brushing my teeth and hair, painting my nails.

Painting more. Just experimenting with colour, intuitively. Without putting pressure on myself. The other night I painted with oil pastels and chalky pastel crayons while watching Dawson's Creek (I successfully avoided this series for 20 years and now, in my thirties, I start watching it?).

Bananas with nut butter, dark chocolate and sea salt.

Meditating with the blanket covering my nose. Breathing in fresh laundry smell.

Riding home from school with Anastasia, talking about diving adventures.

Reading Jill Heinerth's book Into the Planet. Her career as an explorer and cave diver is breathtakingly exciting. I couldn't put that memoir down. And it made me even more antsy. I'm really unhappy and bored right now - I wanna go out and learn something new, explore, live a little more.

Going to work without make-up. In the last ten or even fifteen years I put on make-up every single day I went to school. I'm done. Lockdown made me come to terms with the look of my bare face.

Learning about Antarctica cruises. It only takes about 24hours to reach the area from Argentina! I'd really love to go but the cruises are crazy expensive.

My house plants sprouting new leaves.

The moment the pain suddenly stops and you can breathe again.

Tropical breakfast. Banana, kiwi, mango, pineapple. And plain yoghurt. Decidedly non-tropical.

#personal #present perfect #things i love #february 2021 #2021 #february

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