#but simplifying??? sitting here frowning at my art the entire time

[bones-n-bookles]

Hey why is it so much easier to add SO MUCH EXTRA DETAIL to art than it is to simplify art

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Back at it again with my self-indulgent comic posts. This time! It’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow #3, perhaps the most tonally-distinct entry yet, with shades of The Twilight Zone. 

Spoilers!

So, as mentioned, this issue is the most deliberate in terms of both its pacing and its tone, IMO.

What is that tone, you ask?

To quote Alex Danvers, from “Midvale”: Hello, darkness.

THE STORY:

Kara and Ruthye are still looking for Krem Clues in the alien town of Maypole.

(Which is actually just Small Town, USA, complete with vintage 50s aesthetics.)

But the locals are clearly hiding something! So Kara and Ruthye continue to investigate, and they eventually discover what it was that the residents of Maypole were so keen to keep hidden. 

Genocide, basically. 

As I said, this issue struck me as very Twilight Zone; a genre story involving the build-up to a dark twist, all set against the backdrop of an idyllic small town. (Think, like, “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” but instead of focusing on the Red Scare, it’s classism and racism.)

The wealthier blue aliens kicked all of the purple aliens out of town, and when space pirates showed up to pillage and plunder, the blue aliens made a deal with them: the lives of the purple aliens in exchange for their safety.  

Which is where the episodic story connects to the larger mission; it was Krem who suggested the trade, and then joined up with the Brigands (space pirates) when he was freed by the blue aliens.

The issue ends with no tidy resolution to the terrible things Kara and Ruthye discovered, but they do have a lead on where to find Krem, now, as well as Barbond’s Brigands.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

Ironically, it’s here, in the darkest chapter yet, that we get the closest to what might be considered ‘classic’ Kara. 

Which I think comes down to that aforementioned deliberate pace--this issue is a little slower, a little quieter. It gives the characters some room to breathe.

That’s not to say Crusty Kara is gone. Oh no. She is still very much Crusty. XD 

But anyways. A list! Of Kara moments I loved!

I mentioned a few of these in a prior post when the preview pages came out: I like the moment where Kara blows down the guy’s house of cards, and I like that the action is echoed later in the issue when she grabs the mayor’s desk and tosses it aside. A nice visual representation of the escalation of Kara being, like. Done with these creeps. (Creeps is an understatement but you get the idea.)

Another one from the preview pages: Kara explains to Ruthye that her super hearing won’t necessarily help her detect a lie, especially if she’s dealing with an alien species she’s not familiar with.

It not only reveals her level of competence and understanding of her super powers, it also shows that, you know. She’s a thinker. She’s smart. 

Amazing! Showing, rather than telling us, that Kara is smart! Without mentioning the science guild at all wow hey wow.

(Sorry, pointed criticism of the SG show fandom.)

Anyways.

I dig the PJs! 

And Kara catching the bullet! Not only are the poses and character acting great, it’s also a neat bit of panel composition:

We start with Ruthye’s POV, and then move to the wide shot of the room. The panel where Kara actually catches the bullet is down and to the side of the wide shot panel--we move our eyes the way her body/arm would have to move to intercept the bullet. Physicality in static, 2D images!

Also, like. It’s a very tense moment, life-or-death, but. Ruthye’s wide-eyed surprise at the bullet in Kara’s hand? Kind of adorable. 

I was pretty much prepared for the page of Kara shielding Ruthye from the gunfire to be the highlight--it was one of the first pages King shared and I was like, ‘yeah, YEAH.’ But, shockingly? The TRUE highlight of the issue?

Where do I BEGIN?!?!

EVERYTHING. About this moment. Is lovely.

From Kara holding Ruthye above the bench to explaining the concept of a piggyback ride, to telling her:

“I’m going to hold my hands here, and these hands can turn coal into diamonds, so they’re not going to let go. I’m going to keep you safe.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG.

Ruthye’s narration--about how Kara had avoided flying as she was concerned it would freak Ruthye out--just adds a whole additional layer of YES, GOOD, YES, and her line on that splash page is great: “You see, all that time, she was worried about me.”

HNNNNNNNNNNNG. AGAIN.

To say nothing of the STELLAR ARTWORK.

And SPEAKING of that stellar artwork, Evely and Lopes continue to knock it out of the park. Each issue is distinct and beautifully crafted, a true joy to look at.

Before I jump into more of the art, a few final notes of character stuff in general.

Ruthye is the one most affected by the experience in Maypole, as she can’t comprehend how a society of people that look so nice and gentle and peaceful could have been party to such a horrible act.

One of the big criticisms of the book thus far is that Supergirl is not the main character, and I guess I can agree with that observation. Typically, in Western media, the main character is the one who goes through the most change in the story. 

And, yeah. That’s Ruthye.

As I was reading the end, where Ruthye sits on the curb and Kara hugs her, I was imagining how the scene would’ve played, had King stuck with the original idea for the series: Kara as the one learning to be tough/experiencing all of this for the first time, and while I think that could certainly work...

I continue to appreciate that King literally flipped the script; that Kara, especially in this issue, is like, ‘I’ve seen this, I know this,’ as opposed to being the one going through a loss of innocence.

*Marge Simpson voice* I just think it’s neat!

Because Kara’s been a teen in DC comics for so long--ever since she was reintroduced to the main DCU continuity, actually--so this is all brand new territory, here. Having an older Kara who’s SEEN SOME STUFF.

(Alsoooooo, since Bendis made the destruction of Krypton not just inaction and climate disaster, but rather, genocide, and the subtext of a Kryptonian diaspora text, the waitress’ derogatory comment regarding the the destruction of Kryton, as well as Kara picking up the bad vibes the entire time, suggests not just a broad commentary on discrimination in all its forms, but specifically allegorical anti-Semitism. The purple aliens being forced out of their homes and into substandard living conditions, then the blue aliens--their neighbors and once-fellow residents--essentially allowing the space pirates to kill them, making them literal scapegoats, Kara discovering the remains of the purple aliens, and Ruthye’s horror at the ‘banality of evil’...yes. A case could be made, I think.) 

(Which would probably require a post unto itself and a lot more in-depth discussion, nuance, and cited sources.)

(Should mention that King has brought up that both he and Orlando--the other Supergirl writer he talked to--are Jewish, and for him personally, that shaped his views on Kara’s origin story.)

I guess my point is that this issue is perhaps not as out-of-left-field as some might think, and just because there isn’t as obvious an arc for Kara, doesn’t mean there isn’t some sharp character work at play. 

(I could be WAY OFF, of course, and I’m not suggesting it’s a clear 1:1 comparison. I’d actually really love to hear King talk about this issue in particular.)

Anyways.

Here’s the final page, which I think works, because as I mentioned before, there is no easy answer/quick wrap-up to the story of Maypole:

THE ART:

I mean. How many times can I just shout ‘ART! AAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!’ before it gets old?

I dunno, but I guess we’re gonna FIND OUT.

There are some panels in this issue that I just. Like ‘em! From a purely artistic standpoint! Because they’re so good!

Like, I just really love the way Kara is drawn in that top panel. Her troubled, confused expression, the colors of the fading light, the HAIR. 

Evely draws the best hair. I know I’ve said this before. I don’t care. I will continue to say it, because it continues to be true.

The issue I find myself running up against when I make these posts is that I really don’t want to post whole pages, as that’s generally frowned upon (re: pirating etc.) but with something like this, you just can’t appreciate it in panel-by-panel snippets.

(Guided View on digital reading platforms is a BANE and a POX I say!)

Anyways.

LOVE the implied movement of the cape settling as Kara speeds in and stops. 

And, obviously, Kara flicking the bullet away is just. A+. 

And the EYES, man. LOPES’ COLORS ON THE EYES???!?! BEAUTIFUL.

Also, should note the lettering! The more rounded letters for the ‘WOOSH’ of Kara’s speed (and, earlier, the super breath) work nicely, and contrast with the angular, violent BLAMS of the gunshots. 

And, I gotta say, the editor is doing a really great job of not cluttering up the artwork with all the caption boxes. Which is no small task.

(I assume the editor is placing them, as editors usually handle word balloon/caption box placement, but I suppose it could be Evely? Sometimes the artist handles it. Either way, whoever’s taking care of all the text, EXCELLENT WORK! BRAVO!)

Okay I think that’s everything.

Ah, nope, wait.

MISC.

Just a funny observation, more than anything else: Superman: Red and Blue dropped this week, and King had a story in there, “The Special” (which was very good, btw.) Both Lois and the waitress swear a lot so I’m beginning to think that this is just how King writes dialogue for any adult character who isn’t Clark. XD

This is absolutely a personal preference but when Kara was like, “And my name IS Supergirl,” I was like nooooo. I know King is trying to simplify all of the conflicting origin stories and lore but I LIKE KARA DANVERS, SIR. XD

It’s almost assuredly a cash-grab/an attempt for DC to get all the money it can out of a book they don’t have much confidence in, but I like the cardstock covers! Very classy, much Strange Adventures.

(OH my gosh, can you imagine that issue 1 cover with spot gloss???? Basically the only way you could possibly improve on it.) 

Okay NOW I’m done. For real. XD NEXT TIME: Kara and Ruthye go after Krem and the Brigands!

[annerbhp]

Is this still going on? If it is, Perceptions or lizzie - car ride?

Oh…Perceptions. (The Lizzie one is cool too, but I’m not sure I will ever actually post any of the vague Lizzie Bennet Diaries fic ideas I have.) But Perceptions is a fic I think I have mentioned before, which is a Harry-never-went-to-Hogwarts-but-shows-up-for-his-last-year-after-defeating-the-dark-lord fic. It’s a fun AU, with Harry living with Sirius and Remus from the age of 9 or so for Reasons. There’s quite a bit of ‘Harry’s never really been around other kids and struggles to socialize’ stuff too. Which is fun. Especially when he ends up with Ginny Weasley as a social tutor. (I am having intense deja vu, like maybe I have talked about this fic before? Whatever. Just ignore me if I have.) Snippet below:

Minervaconsidered the boy—young man—sitting across from her.

Itwas impossible to deny his resemblance to James Potter. His dark hair hung indisarray, his limbs long and lanky, but without the winsome smile she’d alwaysassociated with James—his legendary ability to charm his way out of anymischief with it. The boy’s eyes were Lily’s piercing green, something of thegirl in the length of his face, the calmness of his bearing rather than thefrenetic energy of James. The intensity in them though, the guardedness as helooked around the room—that felt foreign to both of the boy’s parents.Something uniquely his own, she supposed.

Shewas having a hard time reconciling this boy—young man—with the almostlarger-than-life figure that dominated the newspapers of late, or with thetall, striking figure of a few months before. The Chosen One who faced off withVoldemort with unbending courage and who, after facing death himself yet again,struck down the murdering tyrant with the Sword of Gryffindor in a final brutal,bloody act.

He’dstood, Voldemort’s crumpled, lifeless form at his feet, while blood trickledfrom the famous scar on his forehead, now even more pronounced, having survivedthe Killing Curse not once, but twice, and this time in front of an enormouscrowd.

Minervafound herself staring at the scar bisecting his eyebrow, once again healed, butstill stark against his skin.

Hecaught her looking, and here there was no uncertainty there, just a fierceintelligence and hardened wariness in his eyes.

Surelythe most powerful wizard ever to live, people speculated. Or so the papersclaimed, each day the pages slathered with yet another image or sensationalstory about the Dark Lord Slayer—yet another epithet to add to his collectionof Boy Who Lived and Lost Savior and Chosen One and Hidden Hero.

Onlytoday, she simply saw a boy, his trousers wrinkled and jumper ill fitting, hisfingers picking at the bed of his nails in what was clearly a nervous habit. Sofar he had been withdrawn but polite, attentive if not particularly engaged inthe conversations swirling around him. 

This,the son of James and Lily Potter, the defeater of the dark lord, the mostpowerful wizard of the age.

Shedidn’t look away from his challenging gaze—being neither afraid of him norawestruck—and something softened in his shoulders, his eyes falling away.

Beingof age, even if just barely, there was no reason for him to be here. Surely hecould have his choice of jobs without the official sanction of Hogwarts. He certainlydidn’t look particularly pleased to be sitting in her office facing a year ofschooling. It made her wonder why he was here.

RemusLupin, looking no less worn and heartbroken, shifted in his seat next to hisward. “While Harry is quite up to snuff with defense, charms, and transfiguration,his education has been spotty in terms of potions in particular and everythingelse in general.”

Minervanodded. She was not surprised that he and Sirius had chosen to focus on onlythose things that promised to best keep Harry alive, and their own strongsubjects at that. They’d always been determined to make him as prepared as hecould be—even Dumbledore could not deny that for all he railed against the gallof the two men in keeping Harry hidden away.

“Wecan do our best to catch you up with remedial potions,” she said. “Though itwill not leave you much time for other subjects. And you will need at leastfive NEWTs for most careers. Do you have a career in mind, Mr. Potter?”

Heglanced up at her, all earlier fire and challenge once against absent. “No,” hesaid, rubbing at the back of his head. “Not really, to be honest.”

“Imust admit that career exploration quite fell by the wayside,” Remus said.

Harryturned his head to the side, making a soft sound of what might be amusement,except for the way Remus winced.

Theolder man cleared his throat. “Harry could probably get a NEWT in defense rightnow, so unless he is going to assist me in my duties, he wouldn’t need to takethat course.”

Thatwould free up his schedule. “Very well.” She turned her attention to Harry. “Sowe will set you up with charms, transfiguration, remedial potions, and whichother subject?”

Harrylooked to Remus as if for guidance, but Remus only lifted one shoulderdiffidently. It’s your choice, it clearly said.

Harryfrowned, looking down at his hands.

Minervaoffered what counsel she could. “Runes would be of use for curse breaking ormagical object development and study. Herbology for any of the healing arts.Care of magical creatures if you wish to go into magizoology or interspeciesrelations.”

“Notmuggle studies?” he asked, head tilting to the side. There was something challengingin his gaze again.

“Wedo not currently have a professor for that subject,” she said, feeling a sharppain in her chest for Charity Burbage—lost to this war alongside far too manyothers. There were not many people lining up to step into that position, witheither the necessary training or the nerve to ply it.

“Anddivination?” Harry asked.

Remusshot him a sharp look.

“Isof use for nothing,” Minerva found herself saying in a fit of uncommon honesty.It was certainly unbecoming of a Headmistress, but the words could not becalled back.

“Nowthey tell me,” Harry said, something hard and wry in his voice, and Minervacouldn’t help but feel she was looking at the ghost of Sirius Black.

Shefelt deeply uncomfortable, but refused to let it show. “Is that your choice?”

Heshook his head, the brief bout of humor dissipating. “Care of magicalcreatures.”

Shelooked to Remus, but he was still regarding Harry.

“Mightbe nice to be outside,” Harry said, chin lowered so that he was speaking almostinto his collar.

Remusput a hand on his shoulder.

“Wellthen,” she said, marking up his schedule and giving the two men a moment. “Allthat is left is your Sorting.”

Theyhad already discussed the challenges of Sorting him in front of the entireschool. In the Great Hall, no less, only months since the sensational eventthat still dominated the daily newspapers. It would be quite the spectacle.

Harry,she’d noticed, seemed horrified by the very suggestion. Though whether by thethought of once again being in the hall or being the center of that muchattention, she was still not sure—the boy was more enigma than not. Either way,it was best to get it out of the way privately.

Gettingup, she removed the Sorting Hat from its alcove, crossing over to Harry. Sheglanced at him, waiting for him to nod his readiness before settling it on hishead.

Thehat looked almost comically small on the head of a full-grown wizard.

Minervadid not expect it to take long, especially considering the Sword of Gryffindorappeared to him without warning in a time of great need. It was clear thecastle already felt him one of its own. Loyaltyto the school and those inside of it.

Longmoments passed, however, Harry shaking his head once or twice, apparently quitethe conversation going on in his head. Harry’s shoulders eventually dropped,though out of relief or resignation, it was hard to tell.

“Gryffindor!”the hat declared.

Minervaswept the hat off his head.

Harrylooked at Remus. “Sirius would be proud at least.”

Remussqueezed his shoulder, his face creasing with grief even as he attempted tosmile at his ward. “Yes, he would. And so would your father.”

Harry looked down at his hands, his jaw clenching. “Would he?”

Why ever would he not be, all thethings his son has done? Minerva wondered.

Only Remusdidn’t seem to have an answer, his hand falling away.

“Well,”Minerva said, having no hope of unraveling the mystery sitting in front of hertoday. She would have the school year to figure it out. “This simplifiesthings. As the new head of Gryffindor, Professor Lupin will be your head ofhouse. I can show you to the Gryffindor dormitories now if you like. The restof the students won’t arrive until tomorrow evening, so you will have some timeto settle in.”

“We’ll needto take a trip to Diagon Alley to get your books,” Remus said.

“Could weorder them?” Harry said, looking pained by the very idea.

“I’m surethey would have no issue rushing your texts to you, Mr. Potter,” Minervaoffered.

This onlymade Harry look resigned rather than relieved. “Of course,” he said. He pushedto his feet. “I think I’d like to see the dorms, if you don’t mind.”

“Very well,”Minerva said, pushing to her feet.

He pickedup the small knapsack that apparently held all his worldly possessions. “I’llsee you at dinner?” he asked Remus.

He gave hisward a strained smile. “Of course.”

[thirteenphoenixes-blog]

“sit.”

the tall mess of limbs and awkwardness and teenage angst that was otherwise known as finnegan andrew hobbes and even better known as finn slouches into the office as the school officer lets him go with a final nudge and a slew of swears under his breath. it’s the usual for the brunette, a muttered goddamn kids or fucking hellion followed by a snort of distaste and a few more things that finn can’t hear.

“sit.” finn’s ever changing (at least in color) eyes shift from behind him to the principal as he slouches from the doorway and into a chair, battered hands clenching into fists as though he hadn’t just been hauled out of a fight. his knuckles ache with the motion, but finn doesn’t care because violence is a language that he knows well and speaks better.

the old man is frowning at him like only older people are capable of. that intense, i’m not only disappointed in you, i’m disappointed in your entire generation stare coupled with a honestly, what the hell is wrong with you? frown that finn knows all too well. he glares harder and the old man sighs.

“finnegan,” he begins.

finn fights down an urge to bare his teeth and simply says instead, “it’s finn.”

“finnegan,” the old man insists, “this is the third time this week that you’ve ended up in my office for fighting.”

and isn’t that the most obvious fucking thing in the world finn thinks, glancing down at the formerly pristine white button down now stained with red down the front. it’s the only the first shirt that he’s ruined this week though and if nothing else, he’s proud of that.

“this has got to stop.”

that’s what you said last week, finn wants to point out. oh! and the week before that and the week before that and so many weeks until you could make an entire notebook full of this has got to stops. the old man seems to sense this before he can even say it and just sighs and shakes his head. “what was it this time?”

finn’s expression goes flat. well, not flat because the anger there is almost entirely on the surface and as much as he’d like there’s no hiding it. finn has never really been subtle because being subtle got you ignored and picked over and he learned that lesson the hard way when they picked his siblings instead of him. he is fire and defiance and rage and he likes it that way if only because he’d collapse into cinders without it.

“he said something about mase’s family—his brother.” it’s self-explanatory in finn’s eyes. there are simply certain things—certain lines—that you don’t cross and mase’s family is one of them. mason holmes in general is one of them for finn but he’d never admit that to anyone except maybe mase himself and even then only with plying and lots of pilfered booze. besides, finn might not ever admit it, but it makes him jealous deep down. remembering that mase has a biological brother, that though they’re brothers in everything except perhaps blood, mason’s real (real here of course only meaning biological and nothing to do with actual bonds with said brother) brother is alive and around even if mason hates him.

it’s not the brother part, or the having a brother part. hell, finn has a brother of his own, older by three years. granted he hasn’t seen ama since they separated way back when, but as far as finn knows he’s out there. it’s the flimsiness of the title that eats him up inside. he and mason are brothers through and through and he doesn’t doubt that (he’d never), but that’s to them.

to the outside world, they’re nothing but a couple of idiots exchanging bro jokes and no homos. and it reads just as clearly on the principal’s face as it does any other. he arches one gray eyebrow, “so you started a fight? why not let mr. holmes fight himself?”

finn gives a smile, sharp and thin, then flexes his fist and simmers a bit in the pain before he replies, “because he’s my—he’s my bro.” he still hesitates on the word and he hates himself for it.

bro has a lightness to it that brother never will and it’s easier of course, simpler, than explaining a pact made over sips of stolen liquor on a particularly bad night for them both, but he hates it. it simplifies their friendship to something as simple as dumb jokes and stupid antics and while yeah they do make dumb jokes and do stupid things sometimes, but they’re so much more than that. still, he continues and says with a toss of his head, “he shouldn’t have to fight when i’m there to do it for him.”

and he knows how it sounds. the look is all too easy to read and the man isn’t even trying to hide his disdain now. isn’t that bit much for a friend?

yeah, i guess for a friend it would be. but that’s his brother and his little brother at that and no one talks shit about his little brother except him. “so,” the old man drawls, pacing around the room, “you punched mr. delaney and started a fight because he said something you found offensive about mr. holmes’s brother?”

“well,” finn thinks for a moment, “yeah, and no. it had nothing to do with cole.” and he’s nitpicking, but it’s sort of true. zack hadn’t said something about cole. it was what he said about mason that had been the match.

the old man sighs like he doesn’t know what to make of that, runs a hand through his thinning hair, and leans back against the desk. “okay.” he says eventually, wearily. “okay. we’ll deal with that… later. why?”

“why what?”

“the fighting, the detentions, the abysmal attendance—everything. why?”

now they’re headed in a direction that finn really hates. He’s had this talk at least four different times with at least six different principals and it manages to piss him off every time.

“first off,” finn can’t help but sass, “i don’t know whose attendance you’re looking at but i’m present pretty much every damn day whether i want to be or not. as far as the fighting and detention goes,” he risks a devilish little grin, “it’s cuz i like it. plus, i don’t get enough attention at home. gotta act out somewhere.” he’s playing around now, but what the hell does he care? trouble is fun.

“i don’t understand. your test grades are borderline perfect, classroom stuff mediocre but that’s no surprise since according to most of your teachers you’re asleep half the time and even there your grades aren’t bad. honestly, finn? if it wasn’t for the near endless amounts of trouble you cause, you’d be a near perfect student.”

he knows that. problem is that minus art and maybe history or english, finn couldn’t give less of a fuck than he already does. he has no motivation; he dislikes the teachers. hell there’s a whole host of reasons for why he does as he does but he’s not here to get analyzed, he’s here to get his sentence and head back to whatever class he’s supposed to be in. “grades do not a perfect child make,” finn drones. he’s bored now, the old man didn’t take the bait and he’s being entirely too earnest for finn to keep being a little shit like he wants to. “look, sir. can you just go ahead and give me detention or suspend me or expel me or whatever it is? much as I’m in here I don’t like sitting in your office.”

“wouldn’t be able to tell with your behavior but, ah, yes. six weeks after school detention. you’ll be helping out in the library.”

finn slouches to his feet the same way that he’d slouched in earlier and turns to head to history, but the old man stops him by the door, in a tone that finn can’t recognize but feels like he should, “and don’t think you’ve gotten out of this talk, mr. hobb. we’ll turn you into a stellar student yet.” the delinquent snorts, having heard the same words uttered at his back three other times and levels the man with a look that he knows is dead behind the eyes as he smiles serenely and mutters

“sure.” before he vanishes out the door and down the hall at the pace of a beast celebrating its kill.