#if i had a nickel for every time a character has to shut down their emotions after an accident involving a family member | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bitty-bits · 9 months

Text

The First and the Last of the Year

And possibly last ever... on Tumblr at least.

Where did I go?

Nowhere in particular... if you've seen my socials all year, that is. This blog/newsletter however, took an extended vacation, not just from a lack of interest (and personal real life stuff getting in the way) but also from a technical standpoint - I really wanted the email newsletter aspect of this to work, but I still couldn't. I was considering using TinyLetter ...until they announced that was shutting down. If I had a nickel for every time a newsletter service shut down out of nowhere I'd have two... you know the rest. And with Tumblr getting worse as the year went by, maintaining this wasn't exactly motivating enough.

That said, it was a less than ideal year for my productivity, inconsistent pace, money issues, the lowest amount of notable dreams to write down on my dream journal to date... you get the idea.

So I can only hope for things to be better. For me to be less lazy... and work not only on stuff I make, but on myself. And I do have a bit of optimism, since a lot has, so let's see a couple of stuff, although everything else you should expect to see in a "rebooted" version of this blog...

Also, Free Palestine!

What I've Been Playing / Watching

So while I haven't fully completed a LOT of things this year, this will be going back to the beginning of the year, essentially, so strap yourselves. (Some of it I'll be grabbing from my media thread that I've made on Twitter as well)

Lucky Star (Finished)

I have posted about Lucky Star in another issue, but I was still in the middle of watching it. Now that I've actually finished watching it (in February) I can say more about it: When it comes to this anime, it was either pretty ahead of its time, or we just have Regressed as a species since then. Maybe the latter.

And sorry folkz, Lucky Star is pro-ship/pro-fic culture and there’s nothing you can do about it. I watched the entire series including the OVA, and while I’m definitely still not sure I’m exactly the "target demographic" what I saw was still very enjoyable. it really just is whatever the fuck and I'm all for it.

At first my kin™ was Konata pretty quickly because of course. That was until Minami showed up and like, she’s basically the weeb version of Ongo Jelly Jamm™!!! I actually can say I got attached to and care about most of the characters, even if just a little.

Like I said in a previous issue, in 2015 I had watched part of an episode of it english dubbed and it didn’t click with me at all. Turns out the dub just sucks as I should’ve expected lol (And I really wasn’t used to segmented "several short stories in one" type anime and stuff to be fair - that and I was dumber too of course so I couldnt properly appreciate the ART........)

My rating is Timotei/10 - and Nichijou is next!

Pizza Tower

Easily the biggest loss for gaming this year was this game not winning "Best Debut Indie" at the Game Awards. Oh well.

I was already highly anticipating this game - having first heard of it when it had a demo at SAGE 2019 I’m glad the game turned out great and is getting the recognition it deserves. I pretty much finished the game in early March. P/10

The Owl House (Finished)

Well... it’s over... for better or worse. I do think they managed to deliver a satisfactory ending all things considered. This was definitely a great cartoon to kick off the new decade.

And of course, fuck Disney as always.

This show got me to break out of, I guess an habit, you could say, or a superstition, or whatever the hell it is, when it came to media with too much ""occultism"" in them. You know the drill. I guess it opened up the little my mind had left that was still a bit closed. Even if it’s mostly involuntary.

But this isn’t even new. As a child I’d actually have an "imaginary friend" that i made (that kinda just Existed, didn’t really "interact" much with them whatsoever cuz i was Dumb™) that their backstory was literally that they were a demon in hell "gone rogue" so they were "not an evil one". Again, I was a kid. I never thought too much about the implications of me thinking about stuff like that already at that age. But it is interesting to think about now.

Anyways, been gay, did witchcraft. ⛥/5

Invader ZIM (Series + Enter The Florpus)

Well I did it. I finally watched the funny hot topic show™ (Finished in late May)

What can I even say about it that hasn’t been already said by everyone else? ...well maybe I have one thing: for some reason I didn’t find That One Episode that people always bring up the MOST disturbing one. I thought the one with a literal character flatlining and Zim being ":)" about it got to me a bit more.

Anyways yeah it’s Cool I liked the characters especially Gaz, and GIR obviously Why Wouldn’t He Be Here. The show can be stupid and end episodes in Whatever The Fuck ways that leave you like "That's it? That's the episode???" but I think that’s one of the unique aspects of it that I Enjoy - also the movie is cool. ☮️>🐔+🍚/10

The Super Mario Bros. Movie (2023)

So I watched it first when we only had shitty cinema bootleg recordings (that aren’t even that shitty anymore at this point in terms of quality, the Shit comes in the form of godawful intrusive illegal casino ads™ placed.) even though a bit later the raw movie would sometimes be uploaded in full to YouTube with no consequence for days. And at this point I’ve rewatched it plenty of times in proper HD (though only once in English cuz I’ll be honest, the Brazilian dub really is phenomenal really and blows the original "star talent cast" out of the water in my opinion, where it falls short is the voice for Luigi, as I know the dude’s voice too well and he’s just doing his normal voice with an accent, not to mention he’s the brazilian Sonic voice already!!!)

I think Charlie Day is the superior Loogy here but I’d still say the dub is better, not only for the fact there are "real voice actors" cuz you know, that’s Their Job, but also like, Charles Martinet is still in there cuz in case you didn't know, he voiced that jumpman dude’s only line in pretty much every language possible which is absurd/admirable.

It’s a fun movie if not mostly for looking at Mario Things happening that you know and recognize, because otherwise the story is pretty ridiculously basic, though even for "Mario game story" standards it’s definitely refreshing to see Luigi as the one to be rescued... though that Also sucks because Luigi deserved more screentime. The main Toad too. Oh well. Also disappointed that the "wise Toad" in the movie isn’t Toadsworth… or maybe he is but hasn’t aged yet and maybe in a sequel we’ll see him get older and then main Toad becomes Captain Toad. Who knows 🍄/10

Honorable Mentions - Stuff I've Watched That I've Yet To Write My Thoughts About, I Don't Have The Time Now

Spy × Family (Season 1) - Not the type of anime I'd see myself watching, but I was forced roped into it by one of my partners and found it to be VERY enjoyable.

Sparkle On, Raven: The Life of Drillgirl - Charming, shitpost-y, but genuine and fun

The Amazing Digital Circus - A very promising series with unexpected popularity, and equally unexpected high quality Brazilian dub with recognizable talent.

Murder Drones (Season 1 - 6/8) - A series I've been cautiously optimistic about since its pilot - it has endearing, enjoyable characters and settings, but flawed writing and pacing - more on that at a future date.

Scott Pilgrim Takes Off - An amazing take on a series that I'm not so familiar with (haven't seen the movie or read the comics, only really knew that the franchise "exists") and judging from what I've heard from others, it probably is the best take on the main storyline. Especially when it comes to the representation of who turned out to be my fave - Roxie. Watching the live action now is... probably gonna be very weird. Not sure if I want to.

Kunshikter (Күншіктер) - A new, yet very obscure cartoon from Kazakhstan. It's cute. It's for children but at this point I don't think y'all care. It's still ongoing and there are not many episodes so far. I recommend giving it a watch. Now!

Future YouTube Updates

As some of you saw in a xeet tweet from early October I was planning to do something significant on my main YouTube channel which has been stagnant for a while now, only for that to, surprise, not happen. I do have a set goal now: In very early January, a video to explain exactly what happened and what was the video I wanted to make, and... why it's hard for me to get a video like that out in the first place. The short answer (that doesn't actually account for Everything) is autism. The long answer is... stay tuned for it, lol

Song of the Issue

youtube

Although this section was supposed to be for sharing music that isn't mine, I thought I'd share snippets of music stuff I've been making since the beginning of 2023 until now, that you can look forward to!

Conclusion

I dunno. All I can say is... happy new year! It's been a tradition to make a stupid amateurish collage at the end of the year with the highlights, but this year there's been... less of them, that I took note of at least. But that won't stop me I think. Once I have that done, I may edit this to include it.

No comment on anything related to Twitter (which I'll never call "X") and the billionaire that happened this year as you all probably already know by now, and by the way you can now follow me on the social butterfly of bluesky. See you next year!

#newsletter #personal #Youtube

8 notes · View notes

jotunkhiicha · 2 months

Text

If I had a nickel for every time I created a ginger character who swears, and has a harsh temperament to cover trauma, I’d have two nickels.

“Live or Be Killed Trying.”

While the sun shines in the sky, at its highest at noon, Fran presses her back against the centre fixture in the bullpen. “Fuck!” Is all she can say when the shooter fires some more bullets, catching the terminal on her desk and it rains glass shards around her.

From where she sits and behind the centre fixture in the precinct, she can see Chris tucked behind his desk, desperately trying not to be seen, but it feels like only a matter of time before he’s found and killed.

A palpable fear is evident in the precinct as the scent of death carries heavy in the air like methane; it coats the floor and sucks into their brains when they breathe in that musky, iron scent of blood and the strange acrid scent of Thirium. It lurks and only pounces as the shooter steps forwards, onto the glass shards to announce themselves in this horrific landscape.

Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, Fran curses at whatever fortune has befallen her. “Of all the fucking days…” She grumbles as she leans to the left to see where the shooter is, only to be shot at when her ginger locks fall into the light, “Shit!” She recoils.

“Don’t fucking move, Fran!” The shooter yells at her as they begin to stalk forwards, slowly approaching where she hides.

The detective furrows her brows and tilts her head as she, gingerly, slides across the floor to be as far away from the attacker as she can be. “Do I know you?” She calls back, her hand splayed flat against the floor as she balances her weight on it, pushing herself up onto the balls of her feet.

“Do you know me?” The attacker parrots back with a demented laughter while they yank off their mask, revealing their brown eyes, freckled features and doe eyes, “You destroyed my dad’s life, Fran! You and your fucking sister who shit all over my life and made him kill himself! So, yeah. I hope you know who I fucking am!” She hoarsely yells back, the clacking of the gun audible as she lurches forwards with it.

Fran’s eyes widen as an older case of hers is reborn before her eyes and the resolution twisted beyond recognition.

“Gwen…” She whispers to herself as the memory unwinds and she recalls that toxic regret, as if it everything was all her fault and there wasn’t a single thing she could do to fix it.

The truth of it all comes spiralling down like an avalanche from above, and Chris can only look at his coworker in confusion at the attackers words. He’s always known her to be untouchable, a mystery that seemed to have all the answers but took far too much to unravel, so none ever tried. She’d push people away and lament when they’d slip from her grip, so who is this reflection of her past—a lost totem that stands as a final vestige of a poor choice, or the fragmented remnants of a life she no longer leads?

Fran gestures for Chris to make a break for it and leave her alone with the girl, her two fingers guiding him over to the entrance where thirium erupts from the androids on standby. Their eyes meet and she nods as she bites her lower lip in trepidation; the fear of imminent death seems far too strong for even her to mask.

“All you care about is your money! You don’t care about the normal people who have to graft, steal, beg and sell themselves for a few extra bucks so we can fucking eat!” She presses onwards, approaching the centre of the bullpen now.

With the opening, Chris crawls behind her before he dashes out into the lobby, running for the entrance with his radio to his lips.

Fran purses her lips and clenches her fists. “Gwen, I’m going to tell you something you’re not going to like.” She looks around the corner to see Gwen looking in the opposite direction, waving her gun around as she surveys the area.

“Shut the fuck up! Shut your fucking mouth! Don’t pretend you know me! You know nothing about me! I’ve done things that would shock you!”

That familiar indignant defiance, all of it reminded Fran of who she once was; a young girl full with rage who wielded a loaded revolver and just wanted her life to be normal.

Memories of a time she buried far beneath the surface come up like smoke from a burning forest, revealing that she’d not run far enough from it to avoid being consumed by it. The pain ignites the foliage in her mind, setting ablaze unfamiliar pathways that have been cut off—severed—from her mind, forcing her to look upon these imperfections with her rapt gaze.

“You’re just like me, Gwen, but don’t become me.” Fran solemnly says as she moves to stand, her hands raised while she turns to face the young girl brandishing a rifle, “Don’t be anything like me.”

When they look at one another, their eyes meet as equals who have suffered and wished to purge the source of their emotional conflict. There’s a sort of twisted clarity in there, like a clearing in a dense thicket. It wasn’t comforting, it only served to show how devoid their futures could be if they didn’t fill the void that has been created by traumatic memories. It seemed as though the detective had made it past her failures, her regret and her emotional turmoil as she gazes beneath, looking down upon Gwen as she struggled through the marsh of misery.

“I was just like you ten years ago.” Fran murmurs as she steps closer, her shoes crunching on broken glass, “Just someone who wanted revenge for what she’d been through—someone who wanted the world to make sense.”

Gwen screams and shakes her head as her tears begin to find their form on her lashes. “Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Stop trying to talk to me!” She whimpers as she half-heartedly waves the gun at the detective.

Fran halts and lowers her hands, not to yield, but to comfort the wounded animal. “Gwen, I know you’re scared and that you just want control of your life back,” She takes one more step as Gwen’s fingers go lax and she sniffles while a gut-wrenching sob becomes a mewling scream, “But this won’t fix that—I promise you. It’ll just make that hole seem so much larger, and there’ll come a day where that hole becomes your life and you can’t get out.” She whispers as she steps ever closer, but the young girl doesn’t try to stop her, she just bawls.

Gwen cries louder, surrendering to her grief. “I just want it to be over.” She pleads with whatever gods are watching, begging her heart to relinquish its agony.

“I know,” Fran murmurs as she reaches for the barrel of the gun, delicately easing it from her grip, “I know you do.”

Slouching, Gwen drops the gun and the detective pulls it completely out of her hold and she slides it across the floor. As it clatters, Fran pays the gun no need and pulls the young girl into her embrace, allowing her to scream into her black vest top as she grasps her red, plaid blouse to anchor herself to the real world.

“I know...”

1 note · View note

barrysmanbun · 3 years

Note

Could we get some more Barry fluff please?? x

A Proposal

A/n: If I had a nickel for every fic I ended with the characters exchanging "I love you"s because I didn't know how else to end them I'd have 3 nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened three times.

Description: Barry gets down on one knee and is kind of a baby about it.

Prompt: Barry + kissing away tears

Warnings: Barry x Reader, fluff, crying, I was going to say ooc Barry but honestly I don't think it is

Today is just like any other day. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the trailer smells like weed and pinesol and the outside air is crisp with ocean salt. You and Barry lounge, in your typical comfy clothes, on your porch. Your legs are tucked up underneath you, leaning against his side while you read a book together. He holds the book, and already done with the page he gazes lovingly at you as you finish it.

In the very beginning of your relationship, years ago now, you had questioned it and shrunk under his gaze, embarrassed and confused. Now you know better than to question it and know he only does it because he loves the expressions you make while reading. When finished you look up to look at him with a smile.

"Done." You tell him, expecting him to simply change the page. Instead, he closes the book entirely and tosses it onto the coffee table. He gently repositions you to not be leaning on him and then slides down onto the floor.

Your mind immediately goes south but instead of spreading your legs he kneels down one knee and reaches into his cargo shorts pocket.

You blank, mouth falling open slightly. There's no way he's doing what you think he's doing.

He pulls a small box from his pocket and presents it to you, lifting the lid. Inside the box is a ring with a small gem on it, and while you know it's not a real diamond the ring still must have cost him a paycheck and a half.

“Barry…” You whisper, at a loss for words, but he holds a hand up to stop you.

“I just… just let me say this please.” He takes a deep breath, eyes darting down, and you can see now how nervous he is. “I want to start this out by saying I know I’m not the perfect partner. I know I’m bad at communicating and I still don’t ask for help when I need it and I always assume the worst and I’m easily jealous-”

You smile, remembering how just yesterday he had gotten jealous when one of his clients had looked at you for too long.

“And I know this isn’t romantic, there’s no candles or sunsets and we’re not on a fancy beach or at an expensive restaurant… But I… I’m in love with you. I can’t tell you just how much I love you. And I wish I could give you the world, but all I can offer you is me. For the rest of your life, if you’ll make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

You can feel tears welling in your eyes, and a tight feeling beginning in your throat so you nod quickly, saying, “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.” while you still can. He rushes forward, completely forgetting to put the ring on your finger and instead opting to kiss you passionately on the mouth.

He pulls away when it becomes hard to breathe, smiling widely. “Barry.” You whisper, bringing his eye back to yours as he slips the ring onto your finger. “I have great news. You are my world… so by giving me your hand in marriage you are technically giving me the world.”

He laughs wetly, smiling wide enough it has to hurt his cheeks and you realize that you’re not the only one about to cry from happiness.

Suddenly filled with the need to reassure your boyfriend- well fiance now- you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look you in the eyes.

“Bear, I want you to listen to me and listen to me good alright? You may not be perfect, but you’re perfect for me and there’s not a single person on this entire earth that I would rather marry.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, pulling out of your hands and bringing a hand up to press it against his nose. He’s obviously trying to stop the tears but he can’t and fat drops begin to roll down his cheeks.

“Shit.” he curses, ducking his head and wiping furiously at his eyes, “Now look at what you did.” he says in a joking tone.

You reach out, placing your hands back on his cheeks and pulling him close. You lean forward, gingerly pressing feather-soft kisses to his cheeks, kissing his tears away. Once his face is free of tears you kiss his nose then his forehead and he makes another choked noise like he’s going to start crying again. He throws his arms around your waist, pulling you to the edge of the couch as close to him as you can get, his arms getting so tight it starts an ache in your ribs. You don’t have the heart to tell him, though, as he buries his face in your neck.

“I love you.” He whispers, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my world.”

Tags:

@pogueslandia

#barry imagine #obx barry #barry obx #outer banks #barry the drug dealer #barry x reader #obx barry x reader #barry x you #obx barry x you #obx

123 notes · View notes

frodo-with-glasses · 3 years

Text

More Reading Thoughts: Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit

EEEEEYYYYYYY IT’S THE RABBIT CHAPTER LET’S GOOOOO

If I had a nickel for every time I had to Google a plant name in Tolkien’s description of Ithilien, I’d have at least two dollars. But boy, I’m not complaining. This country sounds like absolute heaven in comparison to the Marshes.

A BATH!! THEY HAD A BAAAAATH 8-D !!!!!!!

I’m ecstatic about this for two reasons. One: I empathize heavily with the hobbits. Poor things haven’t been able to wash the wretched stink of the Dead Marshes off of them for like—what, half a week?? There isn’t even enough fresh water on the outskirts of Mordor to drink, let alone clean yourself, and they’ve been caked in that disgusting ooze for days. Tolkien has this habit of signifying “okay, the characters are taking a rest now, and you can too” by mentioning that the hobbits had a bath, and this is one example. It feels like an immediate reward to Frodo for his decision to follow Gollum forward.

And two: Now I don’t have to draw those dark spatters on their clothes anymore LOL X’-D

“Let’s find a place to lie up in. Not lower down. Higher up for me.” I know this is a technicality, because they do end up sleeping on the ground anyway, but can I call this character development from when the hobbits were all shirking at sleeping “up high” in Lothlorien??

“Frodo after a few mouthfuls of lembas settled deep into the brown fern and went to sleep. Sam looked at him.” Oh. OH. 8-D Is this the part?? IS IT???

“Frodo’s face was peaceful, the marks of fear and care had left it; but it looked old, old and beautiful, as if the chiselling of the shaping years was now revealed in many fine lines that had before been hidden, though the identity of the face was not changed.” My smile is growing so much as I read this paragraph hhhhhhhhh

8-O

IT IS!!!

IT’S THAT PART!!!!

“I love him. He’s like that, and sometimes it shines through, somehow. But I love him, whether or no.” AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH

*FALLS DOWN THE FREAKING STAIRS*

I LOVE THEMMMMM

LEAVE ME ALONE SHUT UP

*rolls on the ground cackling*

Oh Gollum’s back

Rabbits!

PO-TA-TOES!!

BOIL ‘EM, MASH ‘EM, STICK ‘EM IN A STEW *starts beatboxing*

(I’m so glad I decided to read this before work today hahaha)

“Frodo half opened his eyes as Sam stood over him, and then he wakened from his dreaming: another gentle, unrecoverable dream of peace.” Hhhhhhhhnng

Sam mimicking Gollum’s speech patterns is very funny.

EEEEEYYYYY FARAMIR

Wassup my bro?? 8-D

“‘And Elves are wonderous to look upon, or so ‘tis said.’ ‘Meaning we’re not, I take you. Thank you kindly.’” PFFFFFFFT—

How to make friends, with Samwise Gamgee: Step One, meet someone you’ve never seen before. Step Two, trade insults.

Once again, Frodo’s silver tongue shows its mettle. His courteous words to Faramir probably saved their butts.

*SPIT-TAKE* MABLUNG??

That name would mean nothing to me except for redbootsindoriath’s decision to torture me with Children of Hurin a while back

Do people in Gondor just name their kids after every historical figure they can think of?? Because man, what a legacy. “I name you after Sir This-Is-My-Fault and Guess-I’ll-Die.”

Ooh. So this part of the narration—“He wondered what the man’s name was and where he came from; and if he really was evil of heart, or what lies or threats had led him on this long march from home; and if he would not really rather have stayed there in peace”—that’s written from Sam’s POV, but it’s given to Faramir as dialogue in the movies, to help flesh him out. Nice.

SAM! GOT TO SEE!! AN OLIPHAUNT!!!

And immediately he’s like “well if that’s over I think I’ll have a nap now.” ROFL I love Sam X’-D

(GIFs by @tlotrgifs)

#samwise gamgee #frodo baggins #gollum #faramir #mablung #(both the human and the elf)#lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #assorted thoughts #hello and welcome to my new favorite chapter

44 notes · View notes

murswrites · 3 years

Text

Fluff Alphabet ⎯ Harry Bingham

Character/Celeb: Harry Bingham Fandom: The Society MASTERLIST Request from anon: Hello! Can I please request fluff alphabet with Harry Bingham please? Thank you 😌

A/N Yes, he’s a dick in the show but he’s hot shut up. Also this headcanon is sorta in-between the whole thing where it’s just the teenagers and then the real world.

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Everyone thinks Harry finds the “standard of beauty” to be the deciding factor (plus status) in who he likes, but deep down he enjoys someone who makes him feel safe.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

He’s never really thought about it and I’m sure even then, he’s not interested in having kids. I’m sure he’s worried about screwing up like his parents did.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

Just laying/sitting beside each other is usually how it goes. But Harry enjoys holding you whenever you spend the night.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Harry’s a certified show-off, so before the field trip he’s definitely taking you out to expensive restaurants and on joy rides in one of his cars. But after everyone is stuck in New West Ham, your dates are far simpler. Usually just sitting under a tree during free time eating together or watching a movie on his projector at home.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

“You are my... favorite person.”

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

He doesn’t like feeling he owes someone something so he honestly doesn’t really realize the feeling of being “indebted” to you was... in fact loving you.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

Despite popular belief, Harry is very gentle. He may be a dick to the whole world but with you, he’s kind and genuine. May it be with his words or how he hugs you.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

I feel like the gif above sort of explains it, he’s rather feel your wrist that your hand because (and don’t tell anyone) Harry has clammy hands all the time. It grosses him out and he’s afraid it does the same to you.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

He kind of thinks everyone who isn’t rich isn’t worth his time so honestly? Uh, Harry thought you were boring and not worth his time. Sorry, it’s not cute, I know.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Yes, Harry is that kid that would hog all of his toys on a play date because they’re his. It’s a little toxic how he reacts to certain situations but I’m sure he’d try to work on it if you asked.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

You initiated the first kiss. Harry a bad kisser when you first meet him, he’s only ever kissed like he’s seen in the movies and everyone who had been with him up until that point never said a word. So when you tell him “hey this kinda sucks”, he’s very confused. But you teach him how to kiss you in a way that works and he’s a quick learner.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

You do, I feel like Harry is scared to trust someone completely so he probably holds back on saying that he loves you. But once you say it, he seems to be more comfortable doing so.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

Junior prom, definitely. It may have been chaotic and technically boring but you made it fun for Harry. You two danced the night away. Maybe Harry loves the memory more now since senior prom was a bust... he doesn’t really know.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Before the field trip, he would have bought you extravagant gifts and beautiful things. But after? Harry would probably feel ashamed that he couldn’t give you all and more since he’s been taught that material things = how much you love a person. It would be hard for him to unlearn this.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

I think it would be a warm light pink, it’s soft and soothing. It makes him feel safe.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

He’s honestly basic, so things like “babe”, “baby” or an ugly nickname he chose to make you “angry” with. (ex: gremlin)

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

Gardening, when he was younger his mother and him would plant flowers together. Harry hasn’t done it in years but he has fond memories of it.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Watch movies, order takeout. After the field trip it’s pretty much the same minus takeout.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

One word (kind of). A game of fugitive. He is weirdly obsessed with this game, but it brings together his favorite things. Fast cars and telling people what to do. (aka having control)

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Around others, he’s a bit of a meathead with no emotions. But with you he tends to actually open up a bit.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Long and fast car rides with the hood down. It’s weird how adrenaline helps Harry calm down.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Literally everything, Harry will always be a rich kid at heart so it’s honestly in his nature to show off when he can. But despite how he acts, he’s not too proud of himself since his parents never really said they were.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

Harry wouldn’t make it over the top (surprisingly), it would probably be during a picnic or a movie and he’d pull out the box like “here” and then ask.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Indigo Night - Tamino

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Sometimes, but he knows his parents are on the rocks so it makes him nervous.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

I have a sneaking suspicion he’s allergic to like every animal on the planet. But I think he’d get a short hair cat. Probably the standard brown tabby.

#harry bingham #harry bingham x reader #alex fitzalan #the society #the society imagine #harry bingham imagine #the society x reader #fluff alphabet #pew pew pew? more like queue queue queue

228 notes · View notes

tryingmydarndest · 3 years

Text

Thank You (Luka Couffaine x Reader)

Summary (Part 1/probably 3): The author goes on a bit of a tangent about how Y/N goes on a bit of a tangent about Viperion. Who may just have a little, big ol' crush on them?

Tags: -not enough actual relationship -fluff -but like, a weird sprinkling of angst that I didn't plan on right at the end???

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Inspired by this fic by @seriously-sirius-black <3. Luka? OOC? Idk, probably, I don’t write fanfic. But I am actually kinda proud of how well Alya turned out. Writing this made me realize how much of a mom friend I apparently headcanon her as. I wrote this gender-and-as-everything-else-neutral as I can make it (lemme know if you see ways I can improve, tho idk how much more fanfic I'll even be writing). Also, I freakin' RAMBLE and overuse italics, but ya get what ya get and ya don't gotta fret. Ooh, important note for future parts (if i write them) - this is a kinda!au where the miraculous users keep their miraculous. also if I had a nickel for every time I get awkwardly specific about the placement of both of a character’s hands I’d have TWO nickels. Happy reading!! <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Part I - Paris's Cutiest Heroes

The look currently on Marinette’s face as she sputtered out a response was priceless, “Cat Noir? Cat Noir!? What makes you think I’d find Cat Noir attractive at all? And- and- HIM- the cutest superhero! Ridiculous!”

“Utterly ridiculous?”

“Nice one, Alya”

“Thank you so much, Y/N,” you gave Alya a high five on your way to your seat next to Juleka and Rose on the couch facing Marinette and Alya. A sunny Friday after school was the perfect place for Kitty Section and their entourage to hang out. Unfortunately without Ivan and Mylène, seeing as their anniversary called for a private celebration. After pushing a couple couches onto the deck of The Liberty, Alya had predictably started talking about Paris's resident hero team. Today, she chose to ask everyone who they deemed the cutest, and she made sure to jump on Marinette's... interesting response, “And girl, he has the same silky golden hair and dreamy emerald eyes as Adrien Agreste. What’s utterly ridiculous is you freaking out and dodging every time we bring up superheroes!”

The designated snack-boy, Luka, walked out precariously carrying three bowls of goodies for everyone, “Alright, I got more popcorn. Sorry, but looks like we’re out of cheese flavoring, Y/N”

“Oh... that’s fine. I honestly wasn’t expecting it since I forgot to ask,” your free hand not reaching for the bowl rubbed the back of your neck, “but thanks for remembering.”

“Oh, um yeah- Always," is it creepy to remember something so specific? Someone as nice as Y/N wouldn't be interested in some creep. Ugh. Luka took a seat with his own bowl after passing Alya and Marinette theirs. He ended up next to you on the floor, leaning against the arm of the couch, dangerously close to touching your legs.

Rose reached for the popcorn as she interjected, “You know, Alya does have a point. So Marinette, why don’t you just tell us who you think the cutest superhero is, if you don’t like us guessing?”

Somehow Marinette’s face went even paler as she spoke, “What- I mean, I don’t- I haven’t thought- Wha- what about Y/N? Why aren’t you interrogating them?”

Alya crossed her arms, “Because Y/N says the same thing about the same hero every day. Just watch. Ahem, Y/N, care to weigh in on the cuteness level of our lovely Parisian superheroes?”

You looked up from the bowl you had stolen back from Rose with wide eyes, "Hey! Okay, no, that is not fair! Besides, what is our criteria for 'cute'? I mean... Are we going just by physical characteristics? Is costume a factor? What about the animal they're representing, could our opinion of that make this whole thing unfair? And cuteness is so subjective anyway... Why are we even reducing these amazing and honorable superheroes to just their looks? I mean we could be talking about skill, or their powers or power lev-"

"-And your answer would be exactly the same. Seriously, are you done trying- and might I add, failing- to talk yourself out of this one yet? Or should I just read the article you wrote for the Ladyblog?"

"You said you deleted that!"

Luka had perked his head up at your initial fumbling response and turned to you when he spoke, "You wrote an article? That's pretty cool."

You rubbed your face to try and distract yourself from the burning embarrassment, "Umm, yeah. But it was terrible and extremely not. worth. publishing." You hoped the glare you sent the girl in question was enough to scare her into deleting it on the spot, or to at least lie about it, "So Alya kindly deleted it, right?"

Sitting up with a smug look and crossed arms severely lowered your faith that she'd keep quiet. "A good journalist archives everything. Especially something as juicy as one of her besties going on for five thousand words about how dreamy the great Viperion is," dramatically fake-fainting into Marinette's lap, Alya could barely finish before bursting out in laughter. Of course, quickly followed by the others joining in to varying degrees. Juleka and Rose happily giggled to themselves, Marinette looked more relieved that the heat was off her, and Luka seemed to be shocked, or maybe just holding back to see how you were taking this.

Horribly. Horribly embarrassed would describe how you were taking this conversation. You sat there stock-still as you hoped that none of the others could hear your heart's desperate attempts to pound its way out of your chest. That's certainly all you could hear, at least until Alya's voice brought you out of it, "Hey, it's fine," she made her way over to sit next to you as she continued, "We all have our little hero crushes. That's why I bring it up all the time, to show you that it's totally normal! I mean, we all know how I could go on about Carapace for days," Alya gestured for the others to continue, and used her other hand to try and comfort you.

"Well, I find Ladybug to be just absolutely adorable and so kind.... oh it just makes me so happy knowing she's keeping all of Paris safe," Rose added softly.

Juleka brushed a strand of hair aside as she spoke, "Rena Rouge is super mysterious, pretty rad in my opinion."

Alya was rubbing your back like the mom friend she is to try and help encourage you, "See? Super normal, so go ahead and release all this pent up Viperion energy that I know you have. Maybe it'll encourage Marinette here to finally join in the fun!" Alya stuck her tongue out at her best friend, who responded promptly by smashing her face into a pillow.

You just sighed, "I mean- it’s- it can't just-'' were you supposed to just get over it all just like that? Well, at least the embarrassment was wearing off, maybe you could just entertain her for a bit, "Well- um, you see.... HisHairJustLooksReallySoftAnd- you know what. Nope. Can't do anymore of this. Yep- that's all you're getting out of me!" This time when everyone started giggling, you were able to comfortably join them. It was a nice feeling.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A nice evening chilling out with your friends was always welcome, especially with the rising number of akumatizations making that less possible. But the night had come to a close. Alya and Marinette went home, Juleka was walking Rose back herself, and Luka and you had volunteered to clean up. Luka stopped drying the cup in his hand for a minute as he looked at you, “Um, I know it might not be my place, but I want you to know that you don’t have to be embarrassed about the whole... Viperion thing.” God, how am I supposed to take the news that MY crush has a crush on.... Sort of me? Am I supposed to count it as me at all?

“Oh, um. Yeah, thanks. I think I’m over the embarrassment now that it’s out. I don’t know, it’s just that a lot of people think it’s weird since he’s kind of a new hero,” how are you supposed to explain this to him? That you kept such a non-issue secret from him, especially without getting suspiciously defensive about it. “And then people use that to try and say that I only like him for his looks..... And that’s not it! I don’t know, it’s kind of.... A lot? To explain, that is.” This was not going well.

“Oh... Well, what is it? That you like about him, I guess.”

This was so not going well. But he was waiting for a response so... “Uh, well I guess it did kinda start..... that way.... but then I started doing research. I learned about his power and saw videos of his fights. He’s really good! Especially for being so new, which kinda goes into why his power makes me like him so much.” Shit. Rambling, I’m just talking and talking and I need to stop. But how am I supposed to change the subject now? And now Luka’s sitting down, and he seems so invested. Why does this have to happen to me?

“What do you mean by that?”

Luka’s voice kindly shuts your little thought-spiral in its tracks. What were you saying? Oh, Viperion’s powers! You can talk about this, you know this. Just keep talking, at least he seems interested in it, “Well, you know how he can go back and redo the last couple of minutes?” Luka nodded, “Well, we always see the time that worked out. Us civilians get to keep going from the one time it all went right. Just imagine all the times he failed, all the times he couldn’t get it right. It could be dozens, maybe even hundreds of times! He must get so discouraged at some point, I mean I know I would.... I guess I didn’t really think about it at first, but.... but, I doubt I could keep that determination, and I’m so glad Paris has a hero who can, and does.”

Silence. Why was it so quiet? Oh no, he thinks I’m weird. He must think-

“All of this from ‘his hair looks soft’?”

“Hey! You can’t tell me not to be embarrassed, then make fun of me! That’s against the rules!”

Luka chuckled as he said, “Against what rules, exactly?”

“The Rules Of Best Friendship, duh!”

“And who exactly said you were my best friend?”

“Well... your loss, I guess. Now you won’t get an invitation when I plan Rose and Juleka’s wedding,” you brushed off his offended glare as you took the seat next to him.

“She’s my sister.”

“She’d take my side.”

I’d take your side, too. I will always take your side. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

A/N the sequel: I am super bad at finishing things, but I really wanna keep motivated to finish this (like I have a full, probably 3 part, plan for this). If you guys want to help, shoot me a message and I'll send you a link to the google doc I'm writing this on. Feel free to leave a little comment (pls be kind, obviously) and see my writing process! Idk, would any of you guys be interested in that? Would you just get annoyed at having already read the thing before I post it?

#luka couffaine x reader #luka couffaine #mircaulous ladybug #miraculous fanworks #miraculous fanfic #miraculous luka #miraculous lb #the tales of ladybug and cat noir #luka couffaine fanfic #luka couffaine imagine #im gonna hate seeing this show up when i search luka x reader #but imma have to deal with it #mmmmmmm #we love anxiety here #<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

261 notes · View notes

cleverthylacine · 2 years

Note

28. who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? why?

oh man!

There are too many, I'll give you a few of my top faves.

Lyzack. Lyzack doesn't have a lot of personality in canon because we see very little of her in the Victory manga and then she shows up in Wings but that's a weird universe where Starscream flirts with girls. When she first appeared in "Every Day is a Winding Road" all I knew about her really was that she was Leozack's sister (a tiresome thing to be), and I had decided she would be Esmeral's amica and that she would fall in love with Nickel. Lyzack became the cutest disaster lesbian. Leozack and Lyzack are half feliformer and half Seeker and they're twins. So they're already a little weird, and the Warworlds have a lot of cultural traditions that Lyzack is not really good at, doesn't enjoy and is clumsy with. Unfortunately Tarn has this gross weeby orientalist Warworlder fetish and one of the ways to shut him up is to entertain him with "energon infusion ceremonies" (yes this is a robot tea ceremony) and traditional dances and the like. And Lyzack hates this but at the same time she knows it's really important for Esmeral and also for keeping Tarn off their empennage so she puts up with it, and she is just so goofy delighted with the fact that Nickel thinks it's all stupid. Also the height difference between Nickel and Lyzack is very cute and the way they banter is adorable and the first time they actually did the sex, Nickel was sitting on the edge of a deep solvent pool at a Warworlder shrine and Lyzack just, uh, noticed nobody was around watching and got into the hot spring and walked up to where Nickel was sitting and uh, totally ate her out. Somehow their personalities made that rather transgressive and exhibitionistic act super adorable. I don't know how to explain.

BUT ALSO

I have often enjoyed writing and playing Mabel Pines. She's so cute and creative and sweet.

Purrsilla is very delightful! (That is my Botbots OC who has only been seen in this RP that I need to get my ass back into.)

Oh! I can't forget LASERBEAK. So you know that Cyberverse LB is a cute little wild bird that Soundwave tamed in CV, and I play her cute in that game? IDW Laserbeak, like Ravage, is sapient. My Laserbeak likes to joke around, she likes to eat things she shouldn't--the delicious forbidden human snacks for instance! She steals shiny things that appeal to her whether or not they are valuable, so, you know, she might steal the packet your strawberry Sailor Moon candy came in...or she might steal Starscream's tiara. She "borrows" Ravage's jewellery frequently and there are stories told in hushed whispers of the time that Skywarp gave her a Bedazzler.

Silverwing the baby seeker! She is very cute and in another RP, during the winding down of the war, she captured a whole Autobot with Wildbreak (KOBD's kid). She smarted off to Frosty (Megatron's daughter Frostbyte) and wouldn't just let her go, because she knew it was probably her last chance to catch an autobot. The poor Autobot scout was very embarrassed because Silvermist and Wildbreak in that game were the robot equivalent of 5th graders. Also in the Nexus game she played soccer with Drillboy and Viridian.

I perversely enjoy Buzzsaw. He makes fun of Soundwave a lot but he loves him dearly. He just thinks Soundwave occasionally needs to be told to do things like, uh, come in out of the acid rain, tell people how he feels about them because they're not telepaths, and bang his girlfriend when she comes home after a long absence instead of like, admitting everything he's ever done wrong and asking for forgiveness even though Rav already knew about it.

#ask game

2 notes · View notes

shirtlesssammy · 4 years

Text

2x09: Croatoan

Then:

Sam Winchester, Supernatural’s resident Clyde Bruckman

Now:

Sam has a vision of Dean in a room with a bunch of strangers. One man is tied to a chair and Dean has his gun trained on him. The man pleads that it’s not in him. He begs the doctor to tell Dean that. She can’t tell. Dean has to do his job --and we see him shoot.

In reality, Dean’s just getting back from a Slim Jim and beer run.

The brothers head out to the town that Sam saw in his vision. Once there, Sam notices a man that was in his vision. They approach him and pose as Federal Marshals. They ask about the other man in Sam’s vision. Dean sees a tattoo on the man’s arm and appeals to the fact that he was in the Marines. He tells the brothers where Duane lives.

On their walk to Duane’s, Sam notices the word CROATOAN carved into a telephone pole.

Then the history nerd Sam decides it’s his right to lecture Dean on not knowing what this word is. Dean was too busy saving the world to pay attention in history class, Sam. Get off your high horse. Also, SAM, they weren’t wiped out “overnight”, and in fact probably just integrated into local native communities. Okay, I’ll get off my own high horse now, lol.

They decide to contact Bobby or Ellen for help, but their phones don’t get a signal and the conveniently placed pay phone doesn’t work.

They head to Duane’s house. His brother greets them at the door and tells them he’s on a fishing trip. His dad then shows up at the door and lets them know he doesn't know when Duane will be back. They ask about the mother, but she’s out getting groceries. It’s clear then that the family is lying.

It turns out, the mom is tied up in the kitchen.

Sam and Dean bust in just as the son is dripping blood onto the mother. The dad charges them and Dean takes him out. The son busts through the kitchen window and runs away before Sam gets a clear shot.

They head back to town with the mom and take her to the local clinic. Dean brings in the father, lol. The doctor patches up the mother, Beverly, while she tells her story. “One minute they were my husband and son, and the next they had the devil in them.”

Dean and Sam wonder if it’s a mass possession. The doctor comes in and wants to know what happened --they just killed her next door neighbor. Since the phones are down, Dean decides to head to the next town for help.

On the road, he finds a stalled car with a bullet hole in the windshield. The car is abandoned --with an empty baby seat, blood everywhere, and a knife outside the driver’s door.

At the clinic, the doctor determines that the dead guy was fighting off a viral infection. She also notes a weird red residue like sulfur.

Dean keeps driving and comes across a roadblock of people with guns. Totally COOL. A man surprised Dean at his door and asks him to step outside. Dean hits the gas pedal in reverse. Guns start firing. Dean drags the dude and does a 180 --getting out of there in time.

The doctor tells Beverly about the virus and asks if she had contact with their blood. (I mean, just that LITTLE blood ritual they were doing before Sam and Dean popped in.) The doctor asks to take a blood sample. Beverly seems to acquiesce, and then goes full roid rage.

Sam knocks her out with a gas canister.

As Dean pulls back into town, the man they talked to earlier jumps out with a gun. Dean and him have a small standoff --each wondering if the other one is “one of ‘em?” The town is going crazy though. Dean suggests heading over the the clinic since there’s no way out of town. The man doesn't believe Dean but then decides to get in the car. Dean drives to the clinic with them both pointing their gun at the other.

At the clinic, Pam, the nurse, wants to leave to check on her boyfriend. Sam convinces her that it’s safer in the clinic. It’s then that Dean and the Sarge show up. Dean and Sam discuss the virus --demonic virus. Sam read in their dad’s journal that John thought that Croatoan was a name of a demon. They have to warn people.

They learn that Beverly is infected and, to Doctor Lee’s and Pam’s horror, Dean and the Sarge immediately announce their intention to kill her. But before they go to that drastic step, Sam interrogates Doctor Lee and asks her if she has a cure yet. The doctor gives Sam a PLEASE SHUT UP look because no, she DOESN’T have a cure for a brand new virus that she’s just discovered with her - checks notes - standard wellness clinic equipment. Long story short, the mom dies bloody.

Later, shadowy figures lurk outside the clinic. Inside, the Winchesters merrily prepare for war as Pam gets twitchy and drops infected blood samples. They decide to fight their way out of town, past the blockades. Sam “Don’t Look at my Browser History” Winchester’s eyes light on some chemicals in the office. It’s time to make some bombs.

Suddenly, someone pounds on the clinic door begging for help. It’s Duane, otherwise known as the man from Sam’s vision! He tells them he just got back from the fishing trip from hell, and he’d sure like to know where his parents are. UH....one of them is dead in the closet next to you? The doctor examines him and finds a wound on him. They tie him up while Doctor Lee drops a virus update. It takes three hours for the virus to incubate before sulfur starts cropping up in the bloodstream. She can’t test for the virus until it’s too late...and he goes full rage zombie on everyone.

Sam pulls Dean aside and begs him to wait to kill Duane. Dean’s against this plan, and Sam accuses him of acting out of character. LORD SAM if I had a nickel for every time that happened on this show! Dean immediately takes umbrage with...everything...and flees the conversation. He also locks Sam in a room so he can pull off his execution uninterrupted. Dean BBY no.

Duane tearfully begs for his life while Dean confronts the monster within himself - and aims the gun.

“I got no choice,” Dean says while Duane weeps, and I weep for different reasons. Dean’s hand shakes. His lip trembles. Dean drops the gun with a curse.

Later, he unwinds while making bombs with Sam. The doctor announces that over four hours have passed, and Duane’s blood is still unsulfured. They decide to untie him. Sam asks why Dean decided to spare his life. Dean deflects because...of course, and Sam heads off for more supplies.

Pam locks Sam in a room with her and almost immediately shrieks and attacks him. She cuts Sam and slices her own palm, pressing into Sam’s wound. Right after that, Dean breaks the door down and shoots her. They wrap their heads around the fact that Pam bled on Sam.

While the extremely harried Doctor examines Sam, the others hold an intense standoff in front of Sam. Dean will kill anyone and everyone to PROTECT his brother, but the others advocate for immediate action. Sam tells Dean to hand a gun over to him and he’ll take himself out! And he doesn’t mean take himself out to a nice dinner and movie! GUH. Winchesters.

Dean throws his car keys - BABY’S CAR KEYS - to the others and tells them to get the hell out of town. He plans to stay behind and watch over his brother for it is his SOLEMN SWORN DUTY.

Sam begs Dean to hand him a gun and get to safety. And that’s sad, sure. That’s tragic. But when Sam urges Dean to “keep going” Dean looks away. “Who says I want to?” he gets out. Excuse me, I’m just going to fling myself off a cliff.

“I’m tired, Sam. I’m tired of this job. This life. This weight on my shoulders.” Dean confesses that it’s not all about their dad’s death either… He was feeling this before their dad died. But JUST BEFORE we get to the core of Dean Winchester, the doctor knocks and tells them to head outside.

The town is utterly silent, everyone gone. The camera super-zooms in on the carved “CROATOAN” on the light pole. Dun dun DUN, etcetera. Why yes, Robert Singer DID direct this episode!

More time passes, and the doctor examines Sam’s blood sample again. His blood is still clean hours later. Sam’s baffled because he for really real knows he got Pam’s blood in his wound. SAM, YER A WIZARD! The doctor looks at the other contaminated samples for comparison and discovers that they’re entirely clean.

In the morning, the doctor bids everyone farewell. She gives Sam a clean bill of health. Sam is predictably still puppy-dog-eyed baffled over it, but he and Dean head out regardless. Duane and Sarge blow town together.

For Pretty Car Science:

Later, Duane asks to pull over. “I gotta make a call,” he says before rapidly slicing Sarge’s throat and filling a chalice with blood. He tells the cup that the testing is over. The “Winchester boy is definitely immune, as expected.” His eyes turn demon-black.

Elsewhere, Sam and Dean take in a nature stroll as delicate music plays.

For Winchesters Enjoying Nature Science:

They moodily swig beer. Sam asks Dean to explain his woeful feelings from earlier. “We oughtta...go to the Grand Canyon,” Dean proposes, COMPLETELY failing to be honest about his feelings. He’d like a break from hunting. When Sam digs further, Dean finally spills. Before their dad died, he told Dean something about Sam. John Winchester, father of the year, told Dean he might have to………..

And we cut to black. I’m sure it was something nice, though, like buy Sam an ice cream cake!

Quotatoan:

That's not school, that's Schoolhouse Rock

Well, you are a handsome devil, but I don't swing that way >.>

You've got a neighbor named Mr. Rogers?

Night of the Living Dead didn't exactly end pretty

We're supposed to struggle with this. That's the whole point

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn 2x09 #croatoan #supernatural season 2

28 notes · View notes

raywritesthings · 4 years

Text

Bird in a Storm 6/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn, John Diggle, Malcolm Merlyn, Thea Queen, Roy Harper, Anastasia, Hank, Female OC Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

Malcolm had never been interested in idle gossip, and even less so now that the Undertaking was nearly within sight. Only a few more months before Unidac was set to complete the earthquake machines. Then it would simply be a matter of setting them up beneath the Glades, to be triggered at his whim.

Even with his mind preoccupied, he’d hardly missed the hostage crisis involving his son’s girlfriend and the Hood last month. It had all been resolved before he had decided whether or not to involve himself, which was just as well. Miss Lance was a good person, driven by all the same ideals and passions Rebecca had had when she’d been alive. It would have been a shame to lose her so senselessly just as Rebecca had been lost.

It took far longer for the other rumors surrounding Laurel Lance to reach his ears. That she had been forced out of CNRI, that she and Tommy had separated. Considering her previous apartment had been Tommy’s last known address until recently, he thought it was high time he checked in on his son again.

Malcolm therefore found himself in the position of visiting the Verdant in the Glades. He never came out to this neighborhood if he could avoid it. Too many bad memories.

Tommy was standing behind the bar, his head buried in a binder with what looked like the finances. Malcolm felt the odd stirring of pride in his gut to see his son at work on something for once, and he hesitated to interrupt. But eventually, Tommy sensed the presence of another person — far too slow, really, he would have easily been dead if Malcolm had had those intentions — and looked up.

“Dad?”

“Hello, Tommy. I was wondering if you had some time tomorrow. I’d like to try catching up again, just the two of us. I know our last dinner didn’t exactly end well.”

Without the buffer of Laurel Lance between them, things could go that way just as easily. Then again, perhaps it was time they had a talk man to man.

Tommy hesitated. “What’s the catch?”

Malcolm held up both hands. “I promise, there’s no ulterior motive. I just heard you were going through a rough time. I thought maybe I could listen.”

His son considered him for a long moment. “Okay. I can get tomorrow evening.”

Malcolm smiled, and it was at least close to reaching his eyes. “Wonderful.”

The next night found the two of them sitting down to dinner. He’d picked somewhere with what would be considered American-style cuisine, if gourmet. Tommy had never had much tolerance for spices. He ordered a bottle of red for the table and thanks to a lack of small talk to begin with, they each had decided on their food fairly quickly as well.

“How’s, uh, the company?” His son asked eventually.

“Doing well as ever. I’m sorry your relationship ended.”

“Okay, cutting to the chase. Should’ve expected that.” Tommy set his wine glass down and shrugged. “We wanted different things, I guess. Or saw things differently. I don’t know.”

“And Laurel has left CNRI?”

“She had to. Said it was better for her clients, but I don’t see how. If a hooded killer is so important to them, I’m not sure why I’d bother.”

Malcolm paused, in thought and to allow the waitress to set their respective meals down.

Tommy was bitter, of course, that he had been deemed less important to the lawyer than her work. It didn’t necessarily speak of any deep-rooted conviction. But there was the seed of an idea in there, a thought that had occurred to Malcolm himself in the years after Rebecca’s death.

“Sometimes,” he began carefully, “people look to outlandish solutions rather than solving their own problems. They believe the Hood is here to save them, but in reality, they’re no better off than they were before he started.”

Tommy was watching him, his head bobbing in an unconscious nod.

“In fact, they might even be worse off. There’s nearly been a gang war over the business with his temporary partner the Huntress.”

“Yeah. Yeah, Laurel mentioned that guy Vanch she had to shoot only got out of prison because of all that,” Tommy was eager to agree.

“I’m not surprised. The truth is, Tommy, one of the reasons I chose to close your mother’s clinic was because I was worried for the safety of the employees.”

This was a half-truth. He was reasonably sure the clinic would have been perfectly safe up until the Undertaking, but he wasn’t about to sacrifice hard-working doctors and nurses to it needlessly.

Tommy’s entire posture changed, less closed off. His expression was far more considering as well. “I hadn’t thought of that. You know, I’m hiring at the club now, and do you think — wow, look at me asking you for advice.”

Malcolm felt something in him warm. Perhaps it was his heart. “I’d be happy to give it.”

Tommy pushed a bite of steak around on his plate. “Well, do you think I should hire additional security?”

“It never hurts. Moira certainly did the right thing hiring that bodyguard for Oliver.”

“Well, she really cares about her kids,” Tommy said, only a little less pointed than usual.

Malcolm set down his knife and fork. This was the real test, and one he had brought on himself. “She does. I’ve always admired that in her, the same as I admired it in Robert. In fact, I’m forever in their debt for everything they did in raising you.”

Tommy was staring at him now, his food forgotten, hanging onto his every word. Malcolm suspected he’d been waiting to hear this for years. Perhaps decades.

“I haven’t been the best father to you, Tommy. Part of that, when you were older, was frustration on my part. I wanted you to take things more seriously. To see the mature young man in front of me now makes me happier than I have been in a long time.”

“Yeah.” Tommy didn’t quite manage a smile. “I guess you cutting me off really was for the best, huh?”

Malcolm glanced down. “You’ve succeeded in spite of my lack of support, Tommy, not because of it. And I couldn’t be prouder.”

He could tell Tommy didn’t know what to say. Neither of them were good at expressing themselves this way; where he covered it with either cordial restraint or coldness, Tommy deflected with humor. But his son didn’t do so now.

“Well, thank you. I’m still trying to be better than I was, in spite of everything.”

“Of course.” Heartbreak was doing Tommy good, if anything. It always did; it forced a person to decide what was truly worth fighting for.

Malcolm requested the check and was soon standing and buttoning his coat. “My office door is always open to you, Tommy.”

“Okay. Hey, and this was… good. I wouldn’t mind doing it again sometime.”

Malcolm smiled. “I feel the same.”

He left the restaurant in good spirits. Tommy had exceeded the expectations he’d settled on for him this past year. In time, he could well be a worthy successor. And after all, that was the goal.

Malcolm was not Ra’s al Ghul. He did not have a steady supply of the waters of Lazarus to keep his life going indefinitely. The world he was attempting to build would one day be inherited. Tommy, Oliver, Thea, Amanda — those children and more were the driving force behind everything he, Moira, Frank, and the other members of Tempest did. This plan twenty years in the making was for their benefit as well as the city’s, not that they knew it yet.

For that reason alone, it was time to bring Tommy back into the fold. He wanted to be close to his son upon the launch of the Undertaking. He wanted Tommy to know the loss of his mother would never be in vain. Her ideas of improvement in the Glades would soon be brought to fruition the only way Malcolm knew how: liquidation.

---

Thea hadn’t thought community service could get any worse. Sure, she’d complained and dragged her feet the whole way there the first couple of days, but she’d gotten used to the routine easily enough. And she’d honestly liked having the time to spend with Laurel, sort of woman-to-woman in a way she’d never really been with her mom.

Of course, then Laurel had gotten fired. That’s when things really took a turn for the worse.

Thea drafted yet another email declining Anastasia’s services on a civil suit against Dagget Industries, the phrases and language used in these sorts of things nearly second nature to her now. The couple who wished to bring the suit was claiming that Dagget’s products had damaged their daughter’s skin and wanted money to cover her medical bills. It seemed open and shut to her, yet Anastasia had forwarded it along to her with the instruction to notify the family that CNRI would not be representing them.

In fact, Thea had three more of these kind of emails to draft before the end of the day. One against Stagg Industries and two against Nickels, a landlord in the Glades.

Seriously, they couldn’t even win a lawsuit against a guy who worked out of the Glades? Enough was enough.

Thea stood and made her way over to her new sponsor’s desk, clearing her throat to get the other woman’s attention since she was busy scrolling through her phone.

“Hey, you finish those emails?” Anastasia asked her in a bored tone.

“Not quite. I was wondering if you wanted me to write any approval emails today or if we’re just going to continue doing nothing like the rest of this week.”

“Laurel really got to you before she was sent packing, huh?”

Thea bristled at her sponsor’s amused tone. “So what if she did?”

The other woman set aside her phone and leaned forward. “Let me offer you some free legal advice, kid. Pick your battles.”

“Okay,” Thea said slowly.

Anastasia sighed. “Here’s an example. Take the case against Dagget Industries. Dagget has the firm I usually work at on retainer, meaning we represent them in court on occasion. Meaning it would be very bad for the firm I usually work for if they are brought to court and lose, even over something as small as a little girl’s acne problems.”

“I’m pretty sure it was scarring,” Thea felt the need to point out.

“Whatever. The point is, my firm could lose Dagget as a client, which would mean a lot of money walking out the door and probably leading to layoffs. Considering I’m on sabbatical already and would be the one responsible in this hypothetical situation, you can see what kind of position that might leave me in.”

Thea was silent.

Anastasia seemed to take that as permission to continue anyway. “Now I still want to have some friends at my firm once I leave this sabbatical behind me, not to mention a job, so I’m going to be very careful which battles I pick. You understand me?”

“Yeah, think so.” Thea backed away and went to her desk. It had taken everything in her to keep the sarcasm from leaking into her tone.

This sucked. Sure, she hadn’t wanted to be an office gopher when she’d first started out here, but at least when Laurel had been her sponsor she had felt like the little things she was being asked to do would eventually add up to something. What was going to happen to all the people they were turning down? Wasn’t this like their last resort?

She still didn’t fully understand why Laurel had chosen to step down, or what good the Hood was for in these cases. Maybe if Thea could show her friend that the slack was not being picked up in her absence, she’d reconsider her decision and come back. Things could go back to normal.

With that in mind, while she waited just inside CNRI’s doors for Ollie and Mr. Diggle, Thea put in a call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Laurel, it’s me.”

“Thea? How’ve you been?”

She could hear some cars rushing by in the background on Laurel’s end of the line. The other woman was out somewhere then.

“I’m good. Well, mostly. Is this a good time to talk?”

“You caught me on the way to the gym,” her friend told her. “So I can give you about fifteen minutes.”

That probably wasn’t going to be enough to deliver her argument. And she thought she could see the car arriving anyway.

“Then could we meet up sometime, say tomorrow? I get a lunch.”

“Uh, I think — yeah, I’ve got that day off. Did you know where you wanted to meet? There’s a food cart that does good wraps about a block and a half from CNRI.”

“That sounds good.”

“Yeah. I’ve missed Hank’s food,” the older woman admitted. That sounded even better. Maybe Thea could lure her back to the office with the promise of more wraps. She’d be totally fine buying.

The horn beeped outside. Mr. Diggle must have thought she couldn’t see them.

“Okay, great, I’ll see you at 12:30!” Thea hung up and rushed out to the car.

Oliver was waiting in the backseat for her. “You busy today?”

Thea couldn’t hold in a snort. “Hardly. But I’m hoping that’s gonna change soon.”

If he heard her confident tone, he didn’t choose to comment. That was just fine. Thea wanted to keep her plans to herself for now. Once everything was okay again, then Ollie could know.

And he would owe her big time for sure

---

To say Laurel had been surprised when Thea had reached out was an understatement. She’d assumed her younger friend would want nothing to do with her after the Hood’s visit to Mrs. Queen. But she’d missed her a lot and wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to catch up.

She left her house early the next day. CNRI would be a bit of a walk, and she didn’t exactly have it timed down to the minute.

“Laurel, hey!” She turned at the call to find Anita standing by the back of her and Jerome’s place. She was pinning up a white cord. “You headed to work?”

“No, just meeting a friend.”

“Great. Think you could help me hang this line up for a minute?”

Laurel walked along the path and met her neighbor. “Sure. What’s it for?”

“Laundry. Just tie it around that loop Jerome nailed to the fence post. You see it?”

Laurel nodded and took the other end across the yard, tying it as Anita asked so that the line was taut. “I didn’t know they let you air dry in our neighborhood.”

Anita pulled a face. “It’s not a hundred percent legal, but it saves on the bills. Just make sure your lines are down every first of the month when the landlord inspects.”

“Ah, gotcha.” She headed back over to her neighbor so they weren’t discussing criminal activity so loudly. “Ordinances can be a pain sometimes.”

“Yeah, it’s not just the cost,” Anita said. She began taking things out of a basket she had sitting by her feet and hanging them. “The dryer messes with my embroidery, you know?”

“You do your own embroidery?”

“Mm-hm,” Anita nodded. “Avó taught me. That’s granny,” she added for Laurel’s benefit. Her neighbor held up a shirt that had a flower pattern all along the v-neck collar.

“That’s really nice.”

“I could show you sometime. Sewing and stuff, too. I know it sounds like girl stuff, but you’d be amazed how much it saves.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Laurel smiled as she kept studying the flowers. Pam would probably love something like that. Maybe on an apron.

“Well, I won’t keep you longer from your friend. Thanks for the help!”

“It was no problem.” Laurel went back down to the sidewalk and began her walk, at a faster pace to make up some of the time. Fortunately, Thea was only just getting out of the building as she drew up alongside it. Laurel hung back by the side rather than go up to the door. She wasn’t sure she wanted anyone catching sight of her in the sneakers and old jeans she’d thrifted.

Thea spotted her and hurried over in a cute little pea coat and purse. Laurel felt herself smiling already.

“Hey!” Thea stopped short of a hug, something they hadn’t really done since after the Gambit. “Thanks for coming out here.”

“It was no problem.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “So, wraps?”

Laurel led the way over to the food cart, Thea walking in step with her.

“Laurel, hey!” Hank greeted with a surprise smile. “Your usual?”

“Make it two, Hank. And I’m paying,” she added to Thea. Her friend started to protest, but Laurel was already handing the money over. Hank didn’t take cards, and she doubted Thea carried much in small bills anyway.

They took the wraps and started walking.

“How’s your community service going?”

“One hour at a time,” Thea answered. She sounded almost as unenthused as when she’d first started, and Laurel frowned.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yeah. It’s Anastasia. She’s not doing anything.”

Laurel had had some worries about that. The woman had made it very clear she wasn’t at CNRI by much choice and would be counting down the days when she went back to her corporate firm. “You mean she’s not taking cases?”

“All she’s agreed to take on are some civil suits involving individuals and not corporations, and a few name change petitions.”

“Well, those are important,” Laurel pointed out. “For a lot of people, it means all the difference to have the name they truly want recognized.”

“Yeah, okay,” Thea admitted. “But we could be doing way more. Maybe if you were there?”

Laurel sighed. She should have expected something like this. “Thea, I was fired. I can’t exactly walk back through the door whenever I want.”

“Well, could you still say the thing they wanted to hear about the Hood?”

Laurel shook her head. “I was serious about that, Thea. I’m not going to denounce him to make a few corporate executives more comfortable. You know, if it weren’t for the Hood people like Sommers who hired the Triad to attack me would still be out there. That dealer who made Vertigo would be, too.”

Thea’s face scrunched up in thought. “I mean, okay, the Hood stops some bad people. But he also attacked mom and took you hostage. If you want to say he’s doing some good, fine, but he seems to be going about it in the wrong way.”

Laurel sighed. “I don’t agree with every action he’s taken, but it’s hard to know what kind of choices you have to make in the heat of the moment.”

Thea shrugged. “Agree to disagree. So—”

Whatever Thea had been about to say was cut off when a boy in a red hoodie knocked into her friend and grabbed the expensive purse hanging from her arm. Laurel could curse herself; she should have never let Thea come meet her out here looking this rich.

“Hey!”

The boy kept running, and without even thinking Laurel took off after him. Enough was enough.

A package wrapped in foil whizzed past her head and missed the boy — Thea had thrown one of the sandwiches. They were closing in fast on a fence blocking off the end of the street. But the thief jumped off some boards against the wall and started to climb. Laurel grabbed a handhold around the iron pole and leveraged herself up to snag his ankle before he could get over the top.

He struggled, leg swinging wildly. “Let go!”

“Give it back first!”

He kicked out with his other foot unexpectedly and caught her nose. Laurel felt and heard something crack, but there wasn’t immediate pain. Instead the shock caused her to yank sharply on his leg, sending first him and then herself toppling off the fence to the ground.

The bite of concrete was harsh on her hands and the side of her face, and the landing left her winded. Not as much as the would-be thief who was sprawled on his back while the purse sat a few feet away.

Thea’s heeled boots clopping against the pavement announced her arrival, and Laurel watched her bend down to scoop up her stolen property. “I’ll take that.”

“Have it. Jesus,” the boy groaned.

Laurel sat up and started to push herself off the ground, wincing at her skinned hands.

“Laurel, oh my God!” Thea gasped. “You’re bleeding!”

She reached up to touch her nose — or tried to, but winced at the slightest brush of her fingertips. “It probably looks worse than it is.” She looked down at the boy, who had tucked one of his arms in towards his chest. “What about you?”

He glared up at her. “I’m fine.”

“Is it your wrist?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Laurel, we have to get you to a hospital,” Thea insisted.

She pulled a face and then winced when that hurt. “I don’t have health insurance anymore, Thea. I’ll just try and make a splint at home.” Or maybe call John and ask for his help.

But Thea shook her head. “No way. I can cover it. We’ll go to one of those clinics — don’t the Merlyns have one in the Glades?”

“Uh, no. At least, I think it’s closing soon. Glades Memorial would be better.” Laurel said. It’d be just her life for Tommy to find out she’d wound up a patient in his mother’s clinic because of a scuffle in the street. And she wasn’t sure if Mr. Merlyn had gotten his way about those closing papers.

She looked down at the boy again and sighed, reaching down to haul him up by his good arm.

“I don’t need help,” he spat.

“You need that wrist looked at. Come on. I’ll cover you.”

“Thought you didn’t have the money.”

She didn’t even flinch at his biting tone, much less rise to it. “I broke the wrist, I buy the cast. Let’s go.”

Thea eyed the boy uncertainly for a moment, but walked along on her other side.

“What’s your name?”

“Roy,” he answered after a pause.

“Well Roy, I’m Laurel.”

---

Roy didn’t really know what to make of the situation he’d found himself in. But that was always the risk when committing a crime, he guessed.

At least there weren’t any cops. Yet.

The two women brought him along with them to Glades Memorial and sure enough he got his wrist looked at.

“It’s a sprain, fortunately,” the doctor told him. “You’re going to want to rest it.”

Sure, like she thought he had the money to sit around doing nothing for a while. At least she gave him some pain meds to go with her advice. Those would be more useful; he could get a pretty good price for them.

Roy sat out in a hallway. The younger girl, Thea Queen as it turned out, stood a few feet away, arms crossed and glancing at him occasionally. He kept his expression sullen. Who was she to judge him when she’d never had to work an honest day of her life either?

A door down the hall opened, admitting the third member of their group. Laurel, he thought she was called.

“Good news, my nose isn’t broken.”

When he looked up, the woman was wearing a sort of splint over it.

“Lucky you.”

“How about your wrist?”

“Sprained.”

“Well, that’s manageable at least. So, Roy, let’s talk.” She pulled the other chair over closer and sat in it. “Why’d you try to steal my friend’s purse?”

He rolled his eyes. “Why do you think? I need money.”

“Your paycheck not enough?”

Roy looked away.

“You don’t have a paycheck,” Laurel guessed. “What’s stopping you from getting a job, Roy? You’re young, fairly strong by the looks of it.”

“What, so I should be out there breaking my back on hard labor?”

“Better than breaking it stealing,” Thea Queen snarked. He scowled at her.

“Look, Roy, I don’t think you’re someone who steals for the thrill of it, or to get rich,” said Laurel. “I think you’re just trying to make ends meet.” Under her tougher getup, she sounded just as well-meaning and patronizing as the social workers that had visited him every so often growing up.

“Yeah, well I’ve found a way to make them meet. Lot easier than trying to get hired with a rap sheet, unless you know somewhere.”

Laurel turned to her friend, a meaningful look on her face. Thea Queen stared back. “Seriously?” She gave a huff. “Fine. My brother’s club is hiring. I could put in a word for you.”

“Because I want to go to work for the rich and powerful in this city? Clean up their vomit and piss for them? No thanks.” Roy stood and made to walk out.

Laurel’s chair scraped back and hit the wall with a sharp bang, and the next thing he knew she was hauling him back around by his good arm.

“You think you’re proving it to someone just because you have an attitude and know how to take whatever you want? You think you’re better than the rich who steal from people in this neighborhood just because you’re from here?” Her look was piercing, and he found himself taking a step back. “No one is going to fix the system for you, Roy. You can either be part of the solution or part of the problem, and if you’re going to take the easy route then I think you can drop the sanctimonious crap.”

“She’s probably got twenty other purses just like that at home!”

“Then keep it.”

They both froze as the bag landed at their feet.

“You’re right. I don’t need it,” Thea Queen stated. “So if you want my money instead of someone else’s in the Glades, I’d rather you take it.”

Something churned unpleasantly in his gut. “I don’t need your charity.”

“No, you’d rather just steal from me instead.” She scoffed and started walking away. Laurel backed up a couple of steps as well, face impassive. Roy looked down at the purse and his beat up sneakers.

He scooped it up and jogged down the hall, pushing it into the younger girl’s arms. “Here,” he said gruffly.

She looked at him with wide eyes, and he swallowed once. Then Roy turned and shoved his good hand in his pocket, shouldering his way out of Glades Memorial.

He’d be damned if he owed them anything. Already bad enough he was feeling guilty. Why should he care about making things better in the Glades? Nobody else did.

Did they?

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing #bird in a storm

3 notes · View notes

ikesenhell · 6 years

Text

IMAGINARY

IMAGINARY, CHAPTER 1. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here or become a Patron of mine! NOTES: Oh man, this is gonna be a wild one. I didn’t expect this to come up and snatch me, but it is. Let’s see how this goes. Bonus points if you can guess in the first chapter who the love interest[s] is/are!

She really needed to stop living in her head. That wasn’t a stretch. She spent so much time by herself that it felt like living on the brink of insanity. Any given second could dissolve into a dream. That was the kind of world she lived in--the kind where she spent more time alone than speaking to another.

Lonely was one thing. Alone was another.

Most of her meals passed in silence. She came home every day to an empty apartment. Dishes waited for her. Her bed went unmade. The little time she spent out and about was by herself. Sometimes her friend Ieyasu came by, but that was rare. He did enough himself, after all.

And it was taking its toll. There were nights where she laid awake and stared at the ceiling, willing it to open up and bring her somewhere else. All the stories she read as a child felt like a hollow mockery of her life. Where was Narnia? Where was Middle Earth? Where were the faries in the wood, or the genies in bottles, or the princesses in far away castles? Anything--anything at all, any trace of magic was welcome.

But there was nothing.

That was the reality of it. And reality crushed her.

Ieyasu shot her a long, penetrating stare one day, one of the few times they hung out together, and asked, “Are you ok?”

“Fine,” she responded, willing herself not to cry at just the inquiry. “Why do you ask?”

He opened his mouth, shut it again, and finally turned away with a shrug. “Pick your character. Time for me to kick your ass again.”

That night she curled up in a ball in bed and sobbed.

God! Who else would care? Maybe out there, somewhere, somewhere in the world, there was someone sweet who would. He would hold her in his arms and caress her hair and whisper kindly, and--

The bed creaked slightly. She paused mid-cry to absorb the shift of weight--and then there was a pair of arms around her. It wasn’t so heavy that it shocked. No. This was gentle, almost imperceptible, a ghost of something that she thought she remembered. It was like a dream.

“There, there,” the dream voice whispered, sweet and dear. Her whole body relaxed despite itself. “It’s okay. Just cry it out.”

“I’m sorry,” she managed breathlessly, “I don’t mean to cry like this--”

But the imaginary presence sighed gently and gave her another hug. “It’s okay. I’m here for you. That’s what friends are for, right?”

She reached back and patted a head of fine silver hair. He nuzzled her; she sighed and relaxed. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Mitsunari whispered back. She knew his name before she knew anything else. He was in her head, after all. “Any time at all.”

---

She almost didn't think about it again. It was a late night fantasy of not being alone. No doubt that was just the product of fatigue and loneliness. Right?

Right.

Except that odd things started happening.

She came home one day to find the shadow of a man passing through her kitchen, his full laugh echoing over the tiles before disappearing entirely. Someone rifled through her closet and picked out her clothes for the day. One night she had a dream of a man with white hair and an equally snowy duster cleaning a pair of pistols by her bedside, shooting her a wink with ghost-light eyes as she dozed off.

And then came the one she couldn’t deny.

She was puttering around the living room. Alone. Of course alone--always alone--and looking for the remote.

“Where did I put it?” She snapped, flinging a pillow to the side. “It’s just me. I’m an idiot. Gonna have to hire a private investigator just to find my things…”

“That would be a waste of your hard-earned nickels, don’t you think?”

That voice was too real to push away. She shrieked and flung a pillow at the man behind her--no, men. One of them started and drew a gun. Another smacked it away with a knife, a flurry of batting flying around the living room. The last and tallest man just laughed uproariously.

“Stop laughing,” snapped the one with the gun, holstering it immediately. He wore a suit that she couldn’t quite place, removing his fedora to reveal a fluff of reddish-brown hair. “It isn’t funny.”

“To the contrary, Yuki, I find it hilarious.”

“Of course you do,” the last man drawled, his winter’s breath voice matching the statuesque expression. “You would find this delightful, Mr. Takeda.”

Mr. Takeda shot her a wink, brushing his double breasted coat off his shoulders and taking a bow. All at once it hit her. These suits were vintage. She couldn’t place the year, but it certainly was from before the nineteen fifties. “Terribly sorry to bother you. My associates and I thought you needed a helping hand. You misplaced your remote?”

“What is a remote?” The blonde groused, but pattered around the living room anyway.

“Beats me,” the one named Yuki snipped. “What does it look like, Miss?”

“Yuki,” Mr. Takeda chided, “Be polite to the lady.”

Yuki grimaced and cast a blushing glance to the side. “What does it look like…. Ma’am.”

“Better.”

She sat, stone-stiff on the couch, utterly convinced she was having a mental breakdown. That is, until Mr. Takeda swept forward and took her hand in his. He was warm. “Shingen Takeda, PI, at your service. My associates, Kenshin Uesugi and Yukimura Sanada, are at your service.”

“Thanks,” she managed thickly. “Um, yeah. Uh. A remote is like, a black plastic thing…? It has buttons…”

“Black plastic,” Kenshin murmured, flipping a pillow with a scowl. “We’ve solved murders.”

“Shut it.” Yuki paused a second, bracing his hands on his hips. “Could you get up for us to check the couch?”

“I already checked it,” she answered without thinking, still too stunned to really gather herself. Still, she got up. “Uh, weird question, but what year is it?”

All three stared at her. Shingen doubled over with a laugh, clutching at his stomach until the sound transformed into harsh wheezing. Yuki blanched, taking a few steps towards his associate. The other man waved him off.

“Nineteen twenty-three,” Kenshin announced. “Why?”

Her stomach dropped. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t be a dummy,” Yuki chided.

“Yuki! You don’t speak to a lady like that.” Shingen composed himself once more. “Yes, why do you ask?”

“I--” What was she supposed to say? Had they materialized from somewhere else? Were they time travelers? What was happening? “Nothing. So, the remote?”

Kenshin flipped part of the rug back and found it there. Without ceremony, he tossed it in her direction. Mercifully she caught it. “Is that what you were looking for?”

“It is! Thanks!”

But--she blinked, and the second she looked back up, they were all gone.

---

“So.” She took a taste of pizza, realized it was too hot, waved frantically at her mouth and set the lava-hot piece down. “I had a weird hallucination the other day.”

Ieyasu shot his friend a questioning stare. “Hallucination?”

“Pretty sure.” She laughed. “I hallucinated three men in my living room from nineteen twenty-three. You know, hardboiled detective types.”

He lifted a brow. “Ahuh.”

“Yeah. It was really weird. They helped me find my remote.”

His other brow rose to match. “They helped you find your remote.”

“I promise it’s not as crazy as it sounds.”

He just eyed her doubtfully. “I’ll take your word on that one.”

---

The next time, a man toppled into her bedroom as she lay there with a book, wishing someone would join her. She screamed and flung the tome at him. It bounced off his head.

“Ah!” He swatted it away, his blue eyes--no, eye--flashing. “Sorry, sorry, terribly sorry--may I hide in here?”

“What?”

“Thank you!” The man leaped up, all the fine silks of his clothes glimmering in the lamplight as he shot her a grin. “I am indebted to you.”

“Who--?” But she already knew. Masamune Date, Prince of the Northern Territories. How did she know that? He was on the run from his family, who wanted him to marry before his time…

He rolled under her bed.

“Get out from under there!” She hopped off the mattress, yanking her underwear drawer out. “Jesus, I--you don’t have to be in there, I swear no one is going to find you here--”

He peered out, holding aloft a lace bra for her with a wink. “Are you quite sure?”

She snatched it away from him with burning cheeks. “Yes. Come on. You’re a figment of my imagination, I’m not going to imagine them finding you here.”

“Oh? A figment? You’ve got quite the imagination, then.” But he didn't challenge her further. Instead he rolled out from under the bed and dusted himself off, brushing back his brown hair and giving her another killer grin. “What else will you imagine me doing?”

“Here.” She shoved a book into his arms. “You can read that.”

He looked almost disappointed until he read the cover. “Cooking Around the Globe?”

“It seems your kind of thing.” How did she know that? But he gave her another fetching grin and all her questions dissolved.

“It is,” he assured her. “It’s quite my thing. I’ll be very entertained with this.”

She didn't question it after that. Instead she settled back into bed and he draped himself over the edge. By bedtime, she glanced up and he was gone, only the indent of his elbows to mark he was ever there to begin with.

With a sigh, she turned and shut off the lights. If she were hallucinating, at least it was proving interesting.

#Ikesen #Ikemen Sengoku #ikesen yukimura #Ikesen Kenshin #Ikesen Mitsunari #Ikesen Shingen #Ikesen Ieyasu #Ikesen Mitsuhide #Ikesen Masamune #Imaginary #my writing #fictional characters au

83 notes · View notes

somanyspoons · 6 years

Note

Race being a dumbass with Albert, go

Midnight Games - Newsies

Words: 1122

Ships: Ralbert near the end ;)

Genre: BIG fluff

Characters: Race, Albert, Morris Delancey is mentioned

Summary: Two dumbasses play cards at midnight and bad decisions are made.

Background knowledge???: War is a card game in which two players place down a card at the same time. The player with the higher scoring card gets both cards.

Cheat, (also called BS), is a card game where the players aim to get rid of all of their cards. It is a game of deception, with cards being played face-down and players being permitted to lie about the cards they have played. A challenge is usually made by players calling out the name of the game, and the loser of a challenge has to pick up every card played so far.

—

It was late. Or early. There really was no way to tell. Race had been trying, unsuccessfully, for the past who-knows-how-long to get to sleep, but it just wasn’t happening. He heard Albert, sleeping below him, roll over and decided to see if he wasn’t the only one having trouble drifting off.

“Hey Albert,” Race spoke up from his bunk.

“Yeah?” Came the hushed reply.

“Are you still awake?”

The boy below him scoffed. “What do you think, dumbass?”

“I can’t get to sleep,” Race whined softly.

“Good for you,” Albert whispered back.

A pause. Race kicked off his blanket and hung his head over the bars of the bunk bed. “You wanna play cards?”

Through the darkness of the night, Race saw Albert sit up.

“Are you kiddin’ me? It’s gotta be at least one

in the mornin’…”

Race squinted at him. “And?”

“Deal me in.”

Race laughed quietly and swung down onto the floor beside Albert’s bed, deck of cards already in hands.

“What are we playin’?” Albert asked, as he joined him sitting on the floor.

“I don’t know, I’s figurin’ we could play war, that’s a quiet game; won’t wake anyone up.”

Race tossed him a pack of matches and Albert lit a candle, using the dripping wax to stick it to the floor. Race expertly shuffled the deck and began dealing out cards.

“We playin’ for bets?”

Race scoffed. “Do you even know who I am?”

“That means yes.” Albert rolled his eyes. “I’s gotta nickel and a piece of gum, and that’s all I’m willin’ t’part with on the first round.”

“Sounds good, I’ll bet a nickel.”

Race finished dealing out the cards and picked up his stack, Albert doing the same.

They looked at each other and placed down a card at the same time. Albert looked down and swore.

“Are you kidding? There’s no way you landed an ace first round!” He lamented. Race just smiled.

“Albert, don’t make such a big deal out of it! It’s only the first round!” He whispered as he took both cards.

They drew another set of cards, placing them down on the wooden floor. Now it was Race’s turn to grumble. A ten and a Jack. Albert looked at him smugly and Race slid the cards towards him, rolling his eyes.

The next six rounds were all won by Race, Albert getting progressively angrier at the outcome of each round. Race's smile just got bigger.

It continued like this until they each only had one card left.

“Are you ready ta lose to me again, Dasilva?” Race baited him.

He ground his teeth in response.

They placed down their final card, not breaking eye contact. Albert finally looked down and let out a cry of defeat, immediately shushed by Race.

“Shut up Albert, you’s gonna get us caught!” He whisper-shouted. He ignored him and begrudgingly handed over the nickel to Race. He pocketed it with a snicker. "Thanks to you, I'm a nickel richer."

“Oh, be quiet, you’ll wake up everyone here with the sound of you tooting your own horn."

Race laughed. “Well, someone’s a sore loser.” He gathered the cards and began shuffling them again. "What's next? We could play Cheat!"

“Sure, but I’m not playin’ for money this round. The loser's gotta do a dare."

Race’s eyes lit up at the opportunity. “Oh you’re so on."

He dealt out the cards again, occasionally placing a card to the side.

Albert narrowed his eyes. “Why’s you doin’ that?”

“Because,” Race explained, “if there’s not a separate card pile, we'll know when one of us is lyin' just by countin' our cards. This fixes that."

And with that, they played.

“Two fours.” Albert places down two cards face down upon the growing stack of cards.

Race decides to believe him, this time.

“Three fives.” Race places down three cards, staring into Albert's eyes the whole time.

“Bullshit!” Albert cries, “I’m looking at two fives in my hand right now."

Race mumbles angrily and picks up the cards. "Dipshit."

“Fuckhead!”

“Ass-clown!”

“Shhhhhhh” Albert placed a finger over his lips. “Wouldn’t wanna wake anyone up now, would we?"

“God, I hate you sometimes,” Race looked back at his hand of cards.

The continued playing, softly cursing at each other each time they lost a round.

Albert’s heart was hammering. He knew he shouldn’t have felt this excited, but he only had two cards left, and Race had more than a handful. He was going to win.

He placed one of his cards on the top of the deck. "One queen. Uno."

Race’s mouth dropped open, “BS!” he sputtered. Albert's smile grew as he flipped the card. One queen. Race howled in despair, clapping a hand over his mouth when he remebered what time it was.

The game was practically over, but Race refused to forfeit.

"Four kings."

Albert looked at him, “Aw, Racey, you know I’m not going to call that." He played his last card, face-up this time. "One ace. I win."

Racetrack Higgins was not one to lose a game, especially when there were cards involved, especially when bets were on the table.

“Goddamn it, Albert.” He said incredulously. “I’s oughtta take you along to my games with the Brooklyn boys, together we'd smoke 'em."

Albert laughed softly. “Aww, Racer, you flatter me.

Race smiled at him, a genuine smile, before stretching his arms and yawning. "Well, that was a good game, but I'll probably be able to sleep now." He shuffled the cards once more and returned them to his pack.

“Woah, woah, Racetrack Higgins, you’s haven’t forgotten about our bet, have you?”

Race froze, a look of dread on his face, and turned slowly around to see a smug looking Albert.

“Alright Albert.” Race said, sitting down to face him. "What do you want?"

Albert thought a moment. “I’s got a great idea,” he grinned. "I know someone who's been in a romantic dry-spell lately, and I think they deserve a kiss or two."

Race’s face flushed a deep red, and for once, he was glad the candle provided such little light. "Who--who would you be referrin' to, Alb?"

Albert smiled so big he thought his face was fall off.

“Morris Delancey.”

The next morning, Race was selling his papes sporting a fresh black eye.

----

this was SO much fun to write tbh, I didn’t even have to make an outline before I just started writing. I wasn’t sure if you wanted platonic!ralbert or romantic!ralbert so I went with my gut. :)

requests are still open btw!! don't hesitate to Ask

#newsies #ralbert #race higgins #albert dasilva #newsies fic #my writing #card games #morris delancey #newsies fanfic #newsies fanfiction #masterlist

40 notes · View notes

luckjustkissedyouhello · 5 years

Text

ISAIP Fic Teaser - Love So Sterng I: Pound Puppy Eyes

I’m working on a fanfic. i’ve been working on it forever....since January. It’s easily the longest fanfic I’ve every written, and clocks in at ~42,000 works. AND I’ve finished it. Currently, @brownwithafrown is very kindly betaing it. I discovered, on reaching the ending, that the fic will be a series. I’m so proud of finishing that i thought i’d post the the opening scene tonight.

Warnings (for the fic in general, not just the opening scene): Graphic violence. Foul language. More violence (in this scene). Blood. Vomit. Mentions of past (physical) child abuse and neglect, as well as mentions/discussions of past childhood sexual abuse (aka: Uncle Jack). Self harm. Prescription drug misuse. Anxiety/Panic Attacks. Non-canon Character Death. [I think that’s all - am I missing any @brownwithafrown?]

This scene especially is heavy on the violence/whumping of Charlie and Mac. The endgame is CharMac, though this fanfic doesn’t go there. No other pairings in this fic,

Title: Love So Sterng I: Pound Puppy Eyes

Summary: One of Frank’s bad choices has dire repercussions for two members of The Gang. Can they (and their friendships) survive the aftermath?

Mac doesn't register what he's hearing, at first.

He's down in the basement, rearranging the boxes of extra booze. Charlie complained he piled them too high. There was a step stool right there, for that very reason, but Charlie said he didn't like climbing on things, (not if he wasn't blitzed out of his head on inhalants and climbing a leaning tower of boxes to freedom via an air vent, apparently). And when Dee went down to get rum, she just squawked that the boxes were too heavy and that she was dizzy from basement fumes. Dumb bitch. So now Mac is pulling down the boxes, taking out four bottles per box so that there's only eight rather than twelve in the box, and stacking the boxes so they're chest height, no higher.

It's not his fault that he didn't know his own strength anymore (not that anyone gives a shit how hard he worked to look good and keep them safe with his hot new rockin' bod) and so he made the boxes too heavy. He hated doing inventory anyway because of this. Everyone had an opinion, but no one did the work (not that he didn't try to slide out of it himself). Also, it's not his fault that he couldn't find any more boxes. So now there's a lot of liquor bottles all around him on the floor. Brown liquor, clear liquor, whatever the hell Jägermeister is… And Mac may be debating snagging a few bottles for his and Dennis's place. It's not really stealing, if he's taking something he'd just drink in the bar without paying, right?

He has to admit, it's a decent workout, lifting boxes and moving things around, which is why he put on his workout mix a little while ago. The music tells his body to go more faster. So his ear buds are in, not even at maximum volume, but it still takes a while for him to realize that there is an awful lot of stomping and crashing going on upstairs for a bar that is closed. Charlie is up there cleaning while Mac moves the stock around. They closed early, it was only eleven on a Tuesday, but Dee was out on a 'date' (yeah, right) and Charlie was bummed because he hadn't seen Frank in days, and Mac was bummed because Dennis was in North Dakota again, visiting D/BJ ('don't call him Dennis-slash-Brian Junior' Dennis had shouted at him, but Mac thought the nickname was great and wanted to keep it - at least until the rest of the gang heard it - they had rules about this, banning of nicknames was not allowed without the nicknamer and nicknamed present, as well as at least one other member of the gang). So they decided to have a movie night to keep Charlie's spirits up. Which was why he is thinking about what liquor to snag – whiskey was winning out because Charlie tended to get sad as shit when he drank vodka straight and if Mac was honest with himself, Jägermeister made him kind of violent (the last time he had drank nothing but Jäger and Redbull, he put his hand through the mirror in the apartment's bathroom) when he accidentally sets a box on the earbuds cord and doesn't realize until the little earbud is ripped out of his right ear as he turns to grab the next box.

Just in time to hear a loud thud and Charlie scream. Mac's guts turn to ice. Because he knows each and every one of Charlie's screams, from frustrated to happy, sad to hungry, stoned to confessing love, (Charlie screams a lot) and that one was a rare one. That was the sound of pain. Charlie says something, Mac can just pick up on the highest sounds through the floor, and then there's another, softer thud than the one before.

Silence. Something is not right. Mac knows it in his bones. He runs for the stairs, he can't leave Charlie of all people alone up there with a threat, Charlie wasn't good in situations like this, didn't know how to ever just shut up and follow instructions, listening to the robber's words rather than getting distracted by like the light reflecting in a puddle or whatever else caught his eye – Mac once watched Charlie stare at the point of a mugger's knife for, like, three whole minutes before getting his wallet out while Mac and the crackhead *both* screamed at him fork over his cash. Which was only two dollars, in nickels, for some odd reason. Charlie was lucky Mac was with him and he didn't get knifed then, 'cause Mac was more smart and took Charlie's arm and ran as the mugger stared at his fistful of silvery metal and got this frustrated I'm gonna stab you anyway look on his face.

And. Yeah. No one is supposed to hurt Charlie. Not when Mac is around. He had made that promise to himself, and out loud to Charlie when they were like eight and Charlie had crawled through his bedroom window (scaring the shit out of Mac, who didn't know Charlie could climb up the side of his house like Spiderman!), sobbing and refusing to say why. Eight year old Mac was Ronnie then, and he held on to his friend and promised that he'd protect him, which just made Charlie cry harder. Mac had never forgotten that promise, and in school he caught more than one beating that was meant for the other man (and okay, sometimes Charlie got his ass kicked on Mac's behalf, but those weren't Mac's fault!), but Mac had made a promise to his oldest friend that day nearly forty years ago. He isn't going to break that now!

Charlie's rat bashing stick is leaning against the wall by the basement door. Without any other weapon, Mac decides it is better than nothing. Part of him is tempted to hide down in the basement and not come out. If it was anyone else up there alone, maybe he'd do that. But there's another thud, and now he can hear through the basement door the other guy's deep voice - fuck he's probably big - and Charlie's higher one shouting something, but he can't figure out what the fuck either of them are saying.

Charlie shouts again in pain, and that gets Mac moving again. It's Charlie. He can't leave him. Even if Mac is so scared his guts are frozen ice, he knows he has to see what's going on. He edges into the keg room, glad the door is open into the bar and he can sneak over to the doorway. What he sees makes him want to turn tail and hide, but also go over and beat the man's brains in with his bare fists.

Charlie is curled up fetal on the floor, on arm around his middle and the other up over his head, and Mac is pretty sure there's blood on Charlie's face, but he can't really see at the angle he's at. The dude, who is about Mac's height but looks much less beefy, but he's got a gun pointed at Charlie, and that's scarier than if Arnold himself was in the room. Mac heart is thudding so hard in his throat as he watches that he's afraid they both will hear it thudding and give him away, but they don't. The man just boots Charlie in the face, twice in rapid succession, boom boom without giving Charlie a chance to recover or even get his hands up to protect himself and says calmly: "I know you know where Frank is," while Charlie groans in pain, blood leaking between his fingers as he cups his hand to his smashed and bleeding nose.

"I don't!" Charlie answers, his voice is muffled by the hand he's got to his face, but it makes something twist in Mac's chest to hear Charlie sounding desperate and clogged with blood.

The man growls, actually growls and Charlie tries to shrink away, but he's got a dazed look on his face like he's not all there anymore and Mac can't blame him. Being kicked in the face is disorientating. The man reaches down and wraps his free hand in Charlie's hair and pulls up - Charlie cries out and has to grip the man's arm to keep from losing hair. The man shakes his fist and jerks Charlie's head around (wow, Mac's never seen an adult do that to another adult, though his father was fond of doing that to him when he was being a little bitch that didn't listen good). The man lets go of his hair and looks at the sleeve of the gray blazer he's wearing, marked by the blood that was on Charlie's hand.

Charlie's eyes go wide and he starts to raise his hands up, but the stranger is quicker. Mac watches it happen in what feels like slow-motion, helpless to stop it, the man swinging the gun in his hand in a wide, punishing arch that ends with a crack against Charlie's left cheekbone and Charlie starts to fall to the side, but the man grabs Charlie's shirt collar in his fist to keep Charlie upright and hits Charlie in the face with the gun twice more so quick Charlie doesn't get a chance to brace himself between blows. The bastard isn't giving Mac a chance to step in, he's got the gun too close to Charlie for Mac to try and stop him - he can't take the risk that the man will shoot Charlie before he will get to them.

Seeing the man just whale on Charlie makes Mac angry, his hand tightens on the Rat Stick as he watches. He prays as he does because he can't *do fucking anything*, just watch as the man lets go of Charlie's shirt and Charlie fucking crumples to the ground with a moan of pain. Mac fucking prays more in those moments than he has in the last year, begging God or Jesus or like, Saint Jude (the patron saint of lost causes and therefore pretty much the one that probably gives a shit about guys like Mac and Charlie) to step in and not let Charlie get shot. Mac isn't sure what he'll do if Charlie were to die.

Charlie doesn't get shot. Instead, he fucking *writhes* on the floor, banging his right fist into the ground, hard, muttering 'fuck, fuck, fuck!' under his breath. Like that can distract from the pain that his face must be in. Mac hates himself for just watching, but he knows, he *knows* he only has one chance to surprise the bastard with the gun and get Charlie (and him) out of this alive.

The bastard points the gun at Charlie. "Tell me where Frank is and I won't shoot you in your fucking face."

"I don't know where he is," Charlie says, his voice is still desperate, that sad desperate of someone who knows that they won't be believed, even though he's telling the truth.

The asshole growls again, and steps towards Charlie, the gun pointed at the floor as he raises his foot to kick Charlie again. And Mac decides that's it. Here's his chance. He needs to step in now, while the gun is pointed at the floor rather than Charlie. Mac finds that despite how much he hates seeing Charlie hurt, how much he hates this guy for hurting Charlie, a large part of him wants to be a coward and hang back, rush for the safety of the basement and hide there. But he can't do that. Can't leave Charlie to get beat up more, or worse.

Mac raises the bat and runs at the bastard. The guy turns to him just as Mac swings the bat. The spiked bat makes solid contact with the prick's head, Mac feels the shock of it connecting go down his arms (it's like driving a speeding car into a brick wall) and then Mac is sitting on his ass, having fallen for a reason he can't quite figure out for a long, dazed moment.

The guy hits the ground, the bat sticking to him, a spike shoved into his right eye, another driven in to his cheek. Mac stares at him, because the guy isn't moving, not even to breathe, and Mac still isn't sure why he's sitting down, except that *he* can't breathe and something catches his eye, he looks away from the not moving man and looks down at himself, because the something that caught his eye was blood, bright red and on his chest and it's his blood, and...and....there was a bang of the gun going off, wasn't there?

+++

end of teaser.

Thanks for reading!

12 notes · View notes

studentsofshield · 6 years

Text

Marvel's Captain Marvel: A Legacy of Failed Relaunches

This piece is about the history of the Captain Marvel name in superhero comic books. First we have to start with the originator, then how it was shut down, then we can get to how it was stolen and how it's been handled since. I will not be getting in to Miracleman/Marvelman, since that is a whole other layer of convoluted.

Fawcett Publications was a publisher of magazines in the 1920s and 30s. They wanted to break into the comic book business after seeing the insane success of Superman starting in 1938. So in 1940 writer Bill Parker and artist CC Beck came up with a superhero for this purpose. The character was to be called Captain Thunder and debut in Flash Comics #1. However, All-American Periodicals beat them to the punch with their own Flash Comics #1 with a cover date of January 1940, debuting the Flash, Hawkman, and other characters. So Fawcett switched the title to Thrill Comics. Which they couldn't use either when Standard/Nedor launched Thrilling Comics #1 with a cover date of February 1940. I guess even the "ing" was too close for trademark comfort. January 1940 also saw the first issue of Fiction House's Jungle Comics, which had a minor backup feature starring Captain Terry Thunder. So when their character was finally unveiled to the public, he was Captain Marvel and appearing in WHIZ Comics #2.

The parallels to Superman were there off the bat and intentional. The first cover features Captain Marvel throwing a car, in reference to the iconic Action Comics #1, but one-upping it. Their powers, costumes, and adventures were somewhat similar. Captain Marvel arguably improved on the Superman formula. Instead of the grown, nerdy Clark Kent, Captain Marvel's secret identity was the child Billy Batson. Rather than looking up to Superman, kids could put their selves in Billy Batson's shoes. The art of CC Beck and others was also more cartoony and the stories more outlandish and fun. While Superman was dealing with corrupt politicians and domestic abusers, Captain Marvel was fighting the moon and hanging out with anthropomorphic tigers.

Captain Marvel replicated the success of Superman, and for a while even outsold the poster boy of comic books. The character's success led to Fawcett creating a whole line of comics and superheroes like Bulletman, Spy Smasher, Minute-Man, Ibis the Invincible and so on in the titles Nickel Comics, Wow Comics, Master Comics, etc. Captain Marvel started multiplying himself with spinoff characters Captain Marvel Jr. and Mary Marvel (before DC created Supergirl). The publisher experienced great success through the 1940s.

This success bothered some people, namely competitor National (today's DC Comics). They had success earlier shutting down Fox Feature Syndicate's character Wonder Man for being too close to Superman. They even did the same thing to Fawcett with their character Master Man. Starting in 1941 National took Fawcett to court over Captain Marvel. The lawsuit and all its subsequent appeals lasted all the way to 1951. Meanwhile Superman was ripping off elements of Captain Marvel along the way, like starting to actually fly, Lex Luthor becoming a bald mad scientist (like Dr. Sivana), and introducing the adventures of Superboy akin to Captain Marvel Jr. The long legal struggle and the waning superhero popularity of the 1950s led to Fawcett giving up on the case and shutting down their entire comics line in 1953.

Of course, having won, DC took the opportunity to pull over Fawcett's talent and put them to work on Superman. DC then ended up licensing Fawcett's characters in the 1970s. Captain Marvel has been fully integrated to the DC Universe through the years, for better or worse.

There is just one ironic hiccup though. While Captain Marvel lay dormant in the 1960s, the trademark lapsed. Another comic publisher by the name of Timely Comics had went through a few eras and name changes to Atlas Comics and then to Marvel Comics. Marvel was becoming a major force in the early 1960s thanks to Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Steve Ditko. Publisher Martin Goodman demanded that they snatch up the trademark to Captain Marvel. Fitting I suppose given the name of the company.

So in December 1967 Marvel's version of Captain Marvel debuted in Marvel Super-Heroes 12. Rather than a Superman-like character, this version was Mar-Vell, an alien warrior who was tasked to spy on Earth but then decided to protect humanity. The stories were light science fiction fare.

This Captain Marvel would not become a sales juggernaut like Fawcett's. Marvel has to maintain their right to the trademark at least every two years though. So this has lead to dozens of relaunches and different characters under the Captain Marvel name.

This is their legacy of failure.

After two appearances in Marvel Super-Heroes (12-13) Captain Marvel received his own self-titled comic in May 1968. From the first appearance through the fourth issue of the series, Gene Colan drew the character and Roy Thomas wrote him. Then not even a year in new creative team Arnold Drake and Don Heck hop on. Other creators like Gary Friedrich, Dick Ayers, and Archie Goodwin rotate through. The original green and white costume has a simplistic design that has become retroactively classic, but is really not too special.

With issue 17 in October 1969, Roy Thomas comes back and is joined this time by Gil Kane. The pair introduce a new costume and the unique dynamic of Captain Marvel playing switcheroo with perennial sidekick Rick Jones. The quality of the book vastly improves, but it only gets the chance to show it off for three issues.

After a six month hiatus, Captain Marvel resumes with issue 20 and the same creative team from before. This time they only get to pump out two issues. The book will now be bimonthly for the most part from here on out.

The character would feature prominently in the classic Kree/Skrull War storyline in Avengers, also written by Roy Thomas. This kept him relevant through 1971 even without a book.

And Mar-Vell is back again two years later in 1972 (recall the trademark rules). This time we have three uninspired issues written by three different writers. The only notable piece here is that they're drawn by Wayne Boring. Who was one of the definitive Superman artists of the 1940s and 50s in comic books and strips. In 1967 DC kicked him out, as they had done with most of their iconic Golden Age artists. Super fan and historian Roy Thomas hired him to do a few jobs for Marvel in the 70s. It's cool to see, but his style honestly was out of date by this point. The irony of these past two relaunches is that both returning issues use the cover text "the hero who wouldn't die!" The irony will become evident in a bit.

By this point DC has licensed the original Fawcett Captain Marvel. Due to Marvel's trademark usage, DC has to title the comic Shazam (the catchphrase Billy Batson uses to transform into the hero). Shazam runs from 1973 through 1978 and then the character moves to anthology backups. Superman even introduces the Big Red Cheese on the cover of the first issue. Within the pages of the comic, the character is still allowed to be called Captain Marvel. This alleged confusion has caused anxiety over the years for DC and with the New 52 reboot in 2011 they tried to officially change the icon's name to Shazam.

With issue 25 in 1973 Captain Marvel finally becomes a must-read comic when a young Jim Starlin jumps on board as artist. He had previously written and drawn fill-in issues of Iron Man that introduced the characters Thanos and Drax the Destroyer. He brought those characters with him and began writing as well, giving fans the iconic Thanos War arc. Starlin sticks around for less than a year. His final issue is 34, where Mar-Vell fights Nitro and the infamous cover text describes him as "the man who killed Captain Marvel." It's originally just supposed to be a sensational lie as is the tradition.

With Starlin gone, Captain Marvel still continues to issue 62 in 1979. Al Milgrom and Pat Broderick draw most of this run. Steve Englehart, Scott Edelman, and Doug Moench handle the writing. Nothing truly memorable or relevant happened, though by this point there were Mar-Vell fans who surely enjoyed it.

Supporting character Carol Danvers also got superpowers and got a spinoff title that ran two years. Mostly written by Chris Claremont. Ms. Marvel would have her own too-late creative reinvention in issue 20 thanks to artist Dave Cockrum. This book was arguably better than the book it spun out of at this point. Carol Danvers will become important again in this saga, but for the time being Claremont pulls her way to be an occasional presence in his vast X-Men run.

Captain Marvel was cancelled prematurely, so Marvel launched a new volume of Marvel Spotlight to pump out inventory issues. Captain Marvel appeared in Marvel Spotlight 1-4, and 8. Of curiosity is that Steve Ditko and Frank Miller drew the last two issues.

Outside of a few appearances, Mar-Vell doesn't make a major appearance between September 1980 and April 1982. When Jim Starlin was offered to write and draw the first installment of the Marvel Graphic Novel series and kill off a major character. One can presume he wasn't allowed to choose Spider-Man. He went with Captain Marvel, following up from his final issue on the series and revealing that the fight with Nitro gave him cancer. He died surrounded by all his fellow heroes and the book is a genuine emotional classic. It solidifies Mar-Vell as a legend, even if his original series never truly got him to deserve that reputation.

Mar-Vell would be featured in a reprint series titled The Life of Captain Marvel in 1985 focusing on the Starlin run. A three issue flashback series to his green and white era was published in 1997.

They need to maintain the trademark though, right? Enter Monica Rambeau in Amazing Spider-Man Annual #16 the same year. Her connection to Mar-Vell was nonexistent, but she took on the Captain Marvel name regardless. Creator Roger Stern carried her over to his legendary Avengers run and she even lead the team for a period. Monica has had tons of memorable appearances since, such as the brilliant Nextwave: Agents of HATE.

Monica would receive solo one-shots in 1989 and 1994. Both by the creative team of Dwayne McDuffie and M.D. Bright.

The third Marvel character to go by Captain Marvel was Genis-Vell. Originally introduced in Silver Surfer Annual #6 as Legacy, Genis is Mar-Vell's bastard child. Genis gets his father's Nega Bands and even is linked to Rick Jones. He got his own series written by Fabian Nicieza in late 1995 that was cancelled prematurely after six issues. In Avengers Unplugged #5 Genis officially takes the Captain Marvel name from Monica, who then suffers through several code names over the years.

After disappearing for about two years, Genis pops up again prominently in the Avengers Forever maxiseries. This launched a 2000 series written by Peter David and drawn by ChrissCross. The series was a critical darling and cult hit, but sales weren't perfect.

To try and boost sales, the book was relaunched in 2002 as part of the U-Decide Campaign. Which was a (marketing ploy) bet between David, Bill Jemas, and Joe Quesada. Fans helped to decide which of three books would survive. It helps that the other two books (Marville and Ultimate Adventures) were absolute trash, but Captain Marvel handily won. It lasted another 25 issues to bring the entire run to 60 issues. During the run, the fourth Captain Marvel Phyla-Vell is introduced as Genis' sister/clone. She uses the name briefly and then becomes Quasar and then Martyr in other stories. Genis eventually goes crazy, then dies.

In 2008 as part of the Secret Invasion crossover, Mar-Vell seems to come back to life in a self-titled miniseries. However, it's revealed that this character is a Skrull with fake memories.

The Skrull fake dies, but is able to pass on his wishes to the Kree hero Noh-Varr. Who was previously known as Marvel Boy, but then becomes Captain Marvel during the Dark Reign era. After discovering he's being manipulated, he abandons the Dark Avengers and takes on the Protector identity.

While the Avengers stock is rising in the 2000s thanks to Brian Michael Bendis, Carol Danvers is back as Ms. Marvel and her mission is to become the prominent hero she thinks she can be. To really promote her, in 2012 Marvel gives her the Captain Marvel name, redesigns her costume, and launches a new title. Kelly Sue DeConnick will shepard the character for the next few years. This series only lasts 17 issues.

By 2012 Marvel has now entered their relaunch trigger happy era. So in 2014 Captain Marvel is relaunched while keeping the same writer. This volume is even shorter at 15 issues.

As a tie-in to the alternate reality event Secret Wars in 2015, Carol Danvers gets her own miniseries still by KSD.

Coming out of Secret Wars, Captain Marvel gets another volume. This one lasts only 10 issues. Marvel brings in TV writers Tara Butters and Michele Fazekas. They leave halfway through and are replaced by Christos and Ruth Gage. The character is significantly entangled in the divisive crossover event Civil War II around this era.

In 2017 another relaunch is due and Carol gets the slight title change to The Mighty Captain Marvel. Prose writer Margaret Stohl is the writer. This series lasts nine issues before being renumbered/retitled as part of Marvel's Legacy initiative. Still with Stohl, renumbered for only five issues.

A soon to be released one-shot tie-in to Infinity Countdown promises Carol adventuring with Monica and possibly Mar-Vell. Marvel has been subtly teasing Mar-Vell's genuine return again recently.

With a Captain Marvel movie starring Carol Danvers just around the corner, Marvel obviously needs to relaunch again (SIGH). July 2018 will bring The Life of Captain Marvel #1. Still written by Stohl, the series promises to retell Carol Danver's origin. So maybe they'll decide to relaunch it again after the origin arc is over.

It's unclear whether DC would have been able to quickly grab the trademark back in the possibly free periods of 1984, 1987, 1992, 1998, and 2006. I don't know if the publication of collected editions fulfills the trademark requirements. If so, Masterworks and other collections could tick off some of those possible open spots.

To summarize, here are all of Marvel's Captain Marvel titles and relaunches:

Mar-Vell Marvel Super-Heroes 12-13 (December 1967-March 1968) Captain Marvel Vol 1 1-19 (May 1968-December 1969) Captain Marvel Vol 1 20-21 (June-August 1970) Captain Marvel Vol 1 22-62 (September 1972-May 1979) Marvel Spotlight 1-4, 8 (July 1979-September 1980) Death of Captain Marvel (April 1982) Life of Captain Marvel Vol 1 1-5 (August-December 1985) Untold Legend of Captain Marvel 1-3 (April-June 1997)

Monica Rambeau: Captain Marvel Vol 2 1 (November 1989) Captain Marvel Vol 2 1/2 (February 1994)

Genis-Vell: Captain Marvel Vol 3 1-6 (December 1995-May 1996) Captain Marvel Vol 4 0-35 (November 1999-October 2002) Captain Marvel Vol 5 1-25 (December 2002-September 2004)

Skrull Fake: Captain Marvel Vol 6 1-5 (January-June 2008)

Carol Danvers: Captain Marvel Vol 7 1-17 (September 2012-January 2014) Captain Marvel Vol 8 1-15 (May 2014-July 2015) Captain Marvel and the Carol Corps 1-4 (August-November 2015) Captain Marvel Vol 9 1-10 (March 2016-January 2017) Mighty Captain Marvel 0-9 (February-November 2017) Captain Marvel Vol 1 125-129 (December 2017-April 2018) Life of Captain Marvel Vol 2 1-? (September 2018-?)

*Dates used are cover dates.

#captain marvel #carol danvers #shazam #mar-vell #kree #genis-vell #monica rambeau #photon #pulsar #marvel #marvel comics #comics #comicbooks #comic books #dc #dc comics

54 notes · View notes