#ironing the clown costume as we speak

[kinuhanino]

Imagine if wenclair doesn't become canon but every interaction with them just smells fruity bcuz that actors are the fruity ones

Like imagine they're supposed to be straight but the actors just took them and ran and went gay gay homosexual gay

[guacam011y]

***SPOILERS FOR WANDAVISION EPISODE 6***

So I’m still processing everything but holy shite that ep was wild...

FIRST THINGS FIRST - WANDA, VISION, BILLY AND PIETRO ALL IN COMIC ACCURATE-ISH COSTUMES AND TOMMY IN A MINI QUICKSILVER COSTUME

PIETRO CALLING BILLY AND TOMMY DEMON SPAWN - GOD DAMMIT, IT’S MEPHISTO ISN’T IT? HOUSE OF M HERE WE COME

HERB ASKING WANDA IF SHE WANTED SOMETHING CHANGED

AGNES ASKING VISION ABOUT THE AVENGERS AND STUFF AND AT FIRST SHE SEEMED GENUINELY FREAKED OUT BUT THEN STARTED LAUGHING MANIACALLY AND I STILL DON’T TRUST HER AND AGNES BEING DRESSED AS A WITCH? AGATHA HARKNESS WAS A WITCH - COINCIDENCE? I THINK NOT!

DARCY LOOKING OVER MONICA’S MED SCANS AND TELLING HER HOW THE HEX AFFECTS HER EACH TIME SHE GOES IN - IS SHE DEVELOPING HER POWERS?

PIETRO’S CORPSE - SCARED ME JUST AS MUCH AS VISION’S

MOVIES SHOWING IN THE THEATRE IN THE BACKGROUND - THE INCREDIBLES: A MOVIE BASED AROUND A SUPERHERO FAMILY AND THE PARENT TRAP: A MOVIE ABOUT TWINS WHO MEET AT CAMP AND TRY AND SET THEIR PARENTS UP

DON’T GO PAST ELLIS AVENUE - NOW I DON’T KNOW IF THIS IS A CONNECTION OR JUST A COINCIDENCE BUT ELLIS IS THE LAST NAME OF THE PRESIDENT DURING IRON MAN 3

TOMMY HAVING HIS SPEED POWERS AND BILLY HAVING HIS REALITY WARPING/TELEKINETIC POWERS - WELCOME SPEED AND WICCAN

A CALL BACK TO INFINITY WAR WHEN VISION EXITED THE HEX? SLIGHTLY DUSTING AND HE PROBABLY WON’T SURVIVE BEING OUTSIDE OF THE HEX - HE’LL JUST DIE AGAIN 🥲

I STILL DON’T TRUST HAYWARD - HE’S VERY SUS

DARCY BEING TAKEN INTO THE HEX WITH THE OTHER S.W.O.R.D AGENTS - HOPEFULLY WE CAN SEE THE OUTFITS THAT KAT DENNING’S WAS EXCITED ABOUT

I SWEAR THEY BETTER NOT STRAIGHTWASH BILLY AND TOMMY OR I WILL RIOT 😤

***FURTHER UPDATES***

So sit-com wise, it seems they were referencing Malcolm in the Middle as the twins broke the fourth wall and talked to the audience, like Malcolm did

However, the theme song has told the viewer to stop questioning the reality of Westview - which could be a little reference to Mystery Science Theatre 3000? - When Pietro first shows up in the title sequence, along with his name title card, the lyrics say “Though there may be no way of knowing who’s come to play” - Istg, I do not trust Pietro

Vision says to Wanda that he had to wear his Halloween costume because there were no other clothes in his closet, Wanda is trying to move the plot along and forcing Vision to play along

Evan Peters’ ‘Mom’ tattoo is shown, which is a tattoo he actually has in real life ! But could this stand for ‘Multiverse of Madness’ or some other red herring?

Pietro mentions to Wanda that if he had found ‘Shangri-La’ he wouldn’t want to leave either - Shangri-La is a real place on Earth-616 that was founded by a version of Vision

Tommy refers to Pietro’s speed as ‘kickass’ and then Wanda repeats that, saying ‘kickass’ again - Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Evan Peters (both versions of QuickSilver) were in Kick-Ass together

The ad for this episode was freaky af - the character on the beach who starved and decomposed could be a little nod to Indiana Jones, where a Nazi’s face melts in - and it could also be reference to Wanda being all alone and struggling to process her grief. The shark in the ad could also be Nightmare or Mephisto or just someone more powerful than Wanda offering her a new beginning with Vision or trapped her in some way - and is feeding off her magic? The flavour of the yoghurt is strawberry flavoured and strawberry’s are red on the outside and pink-ish on the inside - much like Wanda’s og costume and her magic being red 👀

Pietro and Wanda talk about their Sokovian accents at a point in the episode and how neither have them anymore. Wanda’s, as we know, has disappeared over the course of the MCU movies and Pietro’s just doesn’t exist - another nice little nod to Peter Maximoff from the fox X-Men films? Also, Pietro states that “I’m just trying to do my part, okay? Come to town unexpectedly, create tension with the brother-in-law, stir up trouble with the Rugrats (a 90’s cartoon 👀) and ultimately give you grief.” - in reference to the grief part, could Pietro be killed off again? Stir up trouble with the rugrats, being possible shards of the demon Mephisto’s soul, could this be Mephisto trying to influence them on a deeper level? It’s also many many common sitcom clichès

Pietro talks about how “I got shot like a chump on the street for no reason at all” - nice little nod to how Pietro was killed off unnecessarily and how we as a fandom still talk about how regular bullets shouldn’t have killed him

Herb is dressed as Frankenstein’s monster - Dr. Frankenstein created his monster and soon lost control over him, and he was created using electricity or lightning - much like Vision was created and brought to life by Thor using Mjolnïr to bring lightning down to his incubator thingy majig. Could this also be a reference to either Wanda slowly losing control over Westview or someone else controlling Wanda/controlling the citizens of Westview - we saw in episode 3 that Agnes told Herb to be quiet as it seemed he was about to spill the beans 👀

Vision goes towards Ellis avenue and is at a ‘crossroads’ of sorts - in folklore, crossroads are often used to speak to or summon the devil and are also used when an important character is making a decision that could change everything. He spots some citizens repeating certain actions and/or just standing completely still, could these be npc’s (non playable characters)? And now that the barrier of the Hex has spread, will those citizens now start to move? 👀 Also I know that all stop signs look like it, but the stop sign is also a red hexagon 🛑

Darcy scrolls through Hayward’s computer files and goes past a file called “Project C4-113” - it could reference Avengers Issue #113 in which Wanda and Vision both appear on the cover and she says she’s going to make the world pay for Vision’s death. There’s also another file called “Project M5-247” which could be a nod to Avengers Issue #247, which shows the origin of the Eternals and in the same vein, Scarlet Witch and Vision trying to help Captain Marvel. And when Darcy emails Hayward’s cataract plans, you can see the names of “James Alexander and James Gadd” - James Alexander is a visual effects producer on Wandavision and James Gadd works on post production at Marvel

Also: Agnes pulls as Mrs Hart and repeats the same phrase over and over again

After Wanda blasts Pietro, you can see on a fake grave stone the name of “Janell Sammelman”, Janell is a first assistant director on Wandavision

When Wanda moves Westview to save Vision, she turns S.W.O.R.D and it’s agents into clowns + a circus - I just love that the agents turned into clowns 😂 but there is a nice little plot line in the comics where Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver and Hawkeye join the circus - and this COULD be stretch, but earlier in the episode there is the number #22 which could be Avengers Issue #22, which is the Issue that they join the circus

As soon as Vision was brought back into Westview, he was healed - which means if he was to exit again, he probably wouldn’t survive 😭

The episode title is ‘All-New Halloween Spooktackular!” - which “All-New” is a designation that is often used on covers for comic books. And the first issue of the second The Vision and the Scarlet Witch series takes place on Halloween night - but the events in this comics didn’t influence this episode’s plot

Pietro points out that he has the “XY chromosome” - X for X-Men? Plus there’s the X gene 😂

He mentions “Uncle Peter to the rescue” - Peter is the name of Quicksilver from the Fox X-Men Franchise

Pietro and Tommy quote the movie Top Gun (1986) by saying “I fell the need, the need for speed”

Wanda almost seems hesitant to trust this version of Pietro (rightfully so, in my opinion) and is wary of him being around Tommy and Billy

Pietro says some very Mephisto/Nightmare-like things this episode - “Unleash hell, demon spawn!”, “The kids need a father figure”, “Damnit, if Westview isn’t charming as Hell...” - And if Pietro isn’t Mephisto/Nightmare, it HAS to be Agnes or her other half Ralph and Pietro is probably Ralph tbh...or could Pietro just be a scapegoat and Hayward is Ralph? 👀

The theatre in town, which is playing the Incredibles and The Parent Trap, is called the Coronet. There’s a classic poem called “The Coronet” written by Andrew MARVELL (Marvell, is also the true name of the first incarnation of Captain Marvel in the comics) and is about a guy who knows that the sins of mankind led to the death of Christ. He attempts to create a new crown for Christ’s head in an attempt to atone, but finds that there is sin in the crown as well, as the devil is within the crown and therefore he may achieve glory and success with his new creation 👀

Hayward’s confidential project “Cataract” included experimenting on Vision’s body, as was revealed by Darcy (my wife 💙 and Monica is also my wife 💚 and so is Wanda 💛, I just love women, you know? 😂). A cataract is a cloudy area in the lens of the eye that leads to a decrease in vision - is Hayward trying to weaponise Vision? Or maybe even trying to bring Ultron back? Or do what Tony wanted to do in the first place, and make a suit of armour that’s around the world? Either way, it’s for nefarious purposes

Who is Monica’s guy? Jimmy and Monica are off to meet him - could it be Reed Richards (Mr Fantastic)? Or could it be Victor Von Doom (Dr Doom)? Could it be Hank McCoy (Beast)? Or even Adam Brashear (Blue Marvel)? Or if it is a woman, could it be the Skrull daughter of Talos that Monica befriended at the end of Captain Marvel? Could it be Abigail Brand (A major character in recent S.W.O.R.D comics and an Alpha Flight Member)? Or even Toni Ho (Iron Patriot, and could she be introduced to help lay the ground work for my other queen, Riri Williams/Iron Heart?)? Or could it even be Sue Storm (Invisible Woman)?

In the background of the episode we see a number of children and adults dressed up as many different characters, which includes: Sub-Zero from Mortal Kombat, Jason Voorhees, with a sweater striped like Freddy Krueger’s and even a kid that looks dressed in an off-brand Charizard costume 😂 Pokèmon has always been popular, but saw an increase during the 90’s

Pietro and the kids are drinking “Kane Cola” which could be a reference to the 90’s drinks “Jolt Cola” or even “Surge” - it could also, with all the X-Men Easter eggs, be a reference to Garrison Kane, who was a member of Cable’s mercenary team “Six Pack” and is sometimes also known as ‘Weapon X’

The kid that Wanda mentions having a “skin thing” in the orphanage - could that be a reference to her Brotherhood of Evil Mutants co-worker Toad? Or maybe even Mystique? Maybe Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)?

One of the houses has a sign up that says ‘Macabre Mansion’ - another possible reference to House of M?

During a flashback, it’s shown that the twins are playing Dance Dance Revolution, which came out in 1999. Also this might be a stretch, but the boys have a dog plushie in their room the right - which is coloured red and black - could this be a reference to Dogpool? 😂

I love this show 🤣💙

[kyoonqs]

iluso amor ; first part.

↬ summary: Cora has always considered herself elusive, easy to bore and adventurous to the last fiber of her body. One day for no apparent reason, she appears in front of the manager of a globetrotting circus passing through the city where she is temporarily staying to fill her life with magic. Baekhyun, as serious as he is handsome, has no intention of playing a role other than on the main canvas of the circus. He decides to separate Cora from her life of fantasies created by her travels and sets out to show her reality as raw and cruel as he knows it. Or so he believes.

Will time run out too quickly before love and passion devour him and he decides to risk everything for a love that lasts… Forever?

↬ pairing: baekhyun x cora fem!reader.

↬ circus!au ; illusionist!baek x hitchhiker!oc ; strangers to lovers au!

↬ genre: fluff ; romance ; angst ; drama.

↬ length: 2.8 k words.

↬ tag list: @changshapatrol @spacebyuns @fluffyhunnie @soos-goddess @hoho-cham @shadoukiti @sunbyun21​ @mangobaek​ @suhotly​ @pororodks​ @bbhbae​ 

If you’d like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know! 

↬ masterlist.

↬ author’s note: this is my first time writing a series, hope you enjoy it and any feedback will be appreciated. thanks for reading! ♡

Vanilla, caramel and butter scents invaded her nostrils the moment she stepped on the re-centering and she reminded herself that from now on she should get used to the smell due to her timely madness. Beyond her view, occasionally blocked by some old trucks, a red and yellowish-white circus tent loomed along with several smaller tents and a host of caravans. The largest tent, dotted with gold stars, had a large, deep blue sign bearing the name of the circus and its owner. In addition to a few tethered horses, Cora saw a number of huge cages with animals and all kinds of unsavory people, including some pretty dirty men, most of them encrusted with mud and rust.

She was beginning to regret the moment when she had ripped the worn out brochure from the lamppost and the idea of joining the circus scene rose out of boredom. Yes, that was the case, curiosity had killed the cat and she could not contain herself that late afternoon when she had driven her bicycle past the front of the tents and the multicolored costumes of the artists had simultaneously caught her eye. But now it was not like that, the moment she advanced towards the train car where she was to present herself for the position, everyone stopped what they were doing and fixed their eyes on her. Without thinking too much, she stepped forward steadily as her sneakers sank into the sandy ground and she staggering as she stared at the ticket booth where the same brochure she was carrying was presented.

Away from the scrutinizing stares that once haunted her, she took the steps of the carriage two at a time and froze when she saw him inside. He had hair as dark as molten chocolate and chiseled features that would make his face look too beautiful if it weren't for the firm jaw and menacing frown. Men who possessed that brutal appeal had always attracted her but at that moment she would have chosen someone less intimidating to interview her. She tried to calm herself by reminding herself that she would not have to spend more than a couple of hours with him and that it would all be over as soon as she explained clearly why she was applying for the job, which she was still completely unaware of.

She cleared her throat and began with her introduction, first name, last name, place of birth, previous jobs and reason why she was there - from the latter she omitted boredom as a possible factor. The man in question did not give her a single glance and, of course, did not speak a word. She stared straight ahead, the unyielding lines of that hard profile making her skin tingle.

–“I, I want to learn about the trade...” She swallowed.

–“I'm really interested in the job, whatever it is...” She swallowed again.

–“Bastard.”

Until the man in front of her turned his head and looked at her, she didn't realize what she had said. He arched a dark brow with mild curiosity, as if he wasn't sure he had heard correctly. Her impulsiveness took control and she felt her lips tremble, for it was clear that they didn't share her problems in restraining her inappropriate thoughts.

The metal legs of the chair where he was sitting screeched against the hard floor of the wagon. He stood up, ironed the wrinkles of his pants with his hands and looking into her eyes for the first time, he said in a stern and inflexible voice:

–“You are hired. Meet me after the last show behind the main tent.” And without further ado, he passed her by without giving any other explanation.

She could barely suppress a sigh. She directed a furtive glance at the boy, still nameless and wondered what she had gotten into but an irrelevant part of her was dying for new adventures and without a doubt, he would be the greatest from that precise moment.

–“Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to begin! Come closer everyone!”

The man who made the announcement was the same man who was encouraging people to buy tickets the day the circus had arrived in town, although now he was wearing a red master of ceremonies jacket. At that moment Cora appeared before the young man in the carriage, leading a black horse by the reins with one hand. It was then that she realized that he was not only the manager of the circus but also one of its performers.

He was dressed in a velvet jacket, a velvet vest with nothing underneath and black trousers tucked into high leather boots that snuggled over his calves. A jewel-encrusted band of all colors surrounded his torso accompanied by fine iridescent chains and some ribbons of razo that fell from his pocket. He also carried a rolled whip hanging from one shoulder. Curious about the skills he would display in the arena –she had gotten one of the dancers to tell her when they would leave and to her surprise it would be the next morning– she followed the man with his eyes. At that moment he saw her. The decision she had made had been too recent to seek a way out and she still did not feel comfortable talking to him. Cora tucked her hair nervously behind her ear and refuse to take her gaze from the horse following him when he began to walk towards her.

–“There are unsavory people hanging around the circus. Until you know how everything goes, stay where the rest of the audience is, always” he told her as he adjusted some rings on his slender fingers.

–“Understood.” She responded, since she had just promised herself that she was going to put forth her best effort and not get carried away by first impressions that day. 

 –“Come in and take a look at the show.” His tone was firm, despite the fact that she was already heading back to where she was previously. 

 –“Wait! What is your name!?” She asked hastily, not realizing that perhaps she had sounded somewhat desperate.

He glanced at her over his shoulder with the corner of his mouth slightly curved. “Baekhyun!” He said, chuckling, and with that he returned to his place in line with the rest of the artists.

She was still feeling hot as she circled the crowd and entered the tent through the back entrance. She found a free spot in the stands. They were weathered white-painted planks of wood, hard and narrow, with nowhere else to rest one’s feet but on the seat of the spectators in the row below. But she quickly set aside her feelins of discomfort the awkwardness when the lights dimmed, a drum roll crescendoed and a spotlight illuminated the emcee on center court.

–“Welcome to the happiest circus in Valencia, welcome to Gran Fele Circus!”

The music exploded, played by a band consisting of two musicians with drums, a synthesizer, and a consola. A lively version of New York, New York began to play and a white horse entered in the arena with a girl who carried a flag with the name of the circus. The other artists followed, carrying colorful banners, smiling and waving to the crowd.

It was the troupe of acrobats that caught Cora's attention; three handsome men and a beautiful woman –whom she identified as the dancer who had helped her earlier– named Laia, dressed in gold sequins, shiny leggings and thick makeup. They were followed by a group of horsemen, clowns, jugglers, and trained dogs.

Baekhyun entered the arena alone, riding his fierce horse, and unlike the other artists, he didn’t wave his hands or smile. As he circled the track, he seemed such a distant and mysterious being. He was no stranger to the presence of the people, but somehow he remained isolated and gave a strange dignity to the colorful display. 

As the show progressed, Cora was amazed at such talent. 

Suddenly, the lights went out and the music died away. A blue spotlight illuminated the master of ceremonies, the only one occupying the dark center court. His voice turned dramatically low and a haunting, folk melody began to play in the background.

–“How many times have we wondered if we were crazy? How many times did someone make us doubt our actions? How many times has someone come before us with the idea of changing our thinking? Sanity makes us useless, many times it is better to be crazy. Life is made for taking risks and if you don't think so, let the next person convince you otherwise...before time runs out.”

The lights began to gradually increase in intensity, the music resounded and Baekhyun entered the middle of a path that seemed illuminated by small streetlights, thin beams of light that danced around him and that were reflected in the small sequins of his suit. With indisputable ease, he untangled the whip dangling from a waistband and sliced through the air in all directions with it. Small particles, like glitter, floated in the air suspended around him. He performed a series of skillfully executed feats that were both daring and dramatic. They had brought a few accessories onto the floor during the emcee's presentation: ribbon targets, fluorescent balloons, chandeliers, and more. Circling the runway, he popped the balloons one by one, and a bright red explosion, like drops of blood, shot through the air with each snap of the whip.

The lights dimmed until only he was illuminated by the spotlight, and he grabbed a second whip and made them pop and dance in all directions with such masculine grace, Cora gasped. The dance was increasing, with faster and faster movements and, as if by magic, the two whips became one. With a powerful twist of his arm, Baekhyun lifted him above his head to set him off in flames. The audience gasped, the lights went out, and the flaming whip danced wildly through the darkness. When the lights came on again, he had vanished.

–“What are you doing here? Hasn't anyone taken you to the motorhome yet?”

Cora roused herself, her eyes snapping open. Looking up, she saw the same deep brown eyes plaguing since afternoon that day. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was but then everything came to mind: the circus, the manager, the show, his whip.

She suddenly became aware of Baekhyun's hands on her shoulders, it was the only thing that had kept her from falling off the old stool that she had been seated on while waiting for him. She had decided to wait there since it was the most illuminated area around the tent, next to government mandated public toilets where there was still a queue to pass them.

She shifted uneasily under his hands and tried to regain her balance with the idea that he would release her.

–“Could you tell me what time it is? I've lost track of it waiting here for you.”

–“It's about 30 minutes to midnight,” Baekhyun put his hands in the pockets of his coat. Instead of the suit he donned for the show, he wore jeans ripped at the knees and a white t-shirt printed with the word ‘Supreme’ in terms of design. Despite the casual attire he didn’t look any less intimidating.

–“Look dulzura, you will have to get used to my presence, since I will be your guide and housemate from now on”. It wasn’t as if Cora hadn’t tried to do it before, in fact she had been attracted to him the moment she met him, only his personality –and now a whip– had slowed her down. He, at her lack of response, muttered something under his breath and after a sigh, spoke again.

–“Come on dulzura, I'll show you where you'll sleep for the next few months.” He turned and left at a fast pace to where the group of caravans were together, paying little attention to the fact that she had luggage that weighed a ton, the consequence of her idea to buy a memorable garment from each city she had visited until now.

–“Wait!” Her scream had an edge of hysteria, but he seemed not to hear it as he continued walking toward the line of caravans. She rubbed the sole of her sneakers across the ruff, gathering some on the toe of it as she dragged her foot. With a gasp, Cora started walking again. Baekhyun approached two vehicles that were parked next to each other. The closest one was a modern white caravan, it looked spacious inside and on its roof you could see a satellite dish. Next to it was another caravan, dented and rusty that appeared to have been silver previously. She begged to herself that it was the space caravan and not the other.

He stood in front of the ugly rusty trailer, opened the door, and disappeared inside. Cora grunted but conceded since she had stayed in worse places. Perhaps the inside wasn’t as hideous as it looked on the outside. Baekhyun reappeared at the door a moment later and watched as she approached fighting with her backpack towards him. When she finally reached the metal step, he offered her a cynical smile.

–“Home, sweet home, dulzura. Come in and settle”.

Cora had always found the Spanish language something to delight in but this was the third time the nickname had come out of his mouth directed at her and she could swear that the way the word rolled on his tongue and briefly hissed before pronouncing the syllable "zu", surely it was close to the song of the angels that received you when you entered paradise.

She sniffed and climbed the four steps that separated her and...the interior was much worse than the outside. Narrow, messy, it smelled musty and old, with a hint of  mothball. In front of her was a miniature kitchen, the countertop metal, it had spots with peeling paint. To the right of the kitchen, the faded upholstery of the small sofa was barely visible under a pile of books, newspapers, and men's clothing. In addition, she saw an old, medium-sized refrigerator, wooden cabinets, and a bed with rumpled sheets.

Baekhyun stared at her blankly, genuinely doubting whether she had noticed. 

–“It is a small caravan as you can see, but it is comfortable and cozy in the cold. It's all there is and all I have.” 

The bed took up most of the back of the caravan, nothing separated it from the rest of the "rooms", the only thing that seemed to be secluded was the bathroom –which she would make sure to explore as soon as she had the chance. On the sheets there were tangled clothes, a towel, and something she couldn't make out from where she was standing.

–“I think I'll sleep on the couch, it would be better…”

He gazed absently at the tip of his foot, then looked up. She stared into those dark eyes –which depending on the light could be paler or even more blackened– and she felt a chill run down her spine, followed by another strange sensation that she did not want to examine further. 

He slowly raised his hand, adjusting a lock of hair that had been tousled while she was struggling with her backpack, Cora froze and pursed her lips as she felt the softness of his thumb brush the hollow under her ear with something that it seemed like a caress.

–“Do whatever you want, dulzura. I have to go, I still have things to do.” 

Cora gasped when she realized she should have felt danger but her skin had taken the brush of his thumb with pleasure. She felt Baekhyun's insolent hand move away from her hair as he pulled away from her, even though he had left something light on the trailing of her ear. The trailer door swung on its hinges. Baekhyun looked at her and stepped out of it, dropping his gaze from her face to a nonexistent point. Once he was out of sight, she reached for the object that was barely tickling her cheekbone and held the geranium between her fingers with a furtive smile on her face.

↬ This is all for this chapter, I promise to try to write more in the following parts. I will try to update every Saturday. Honorable mention: Oliv (@changshapatrol​) without her this story would be nothing, thank you for your patience and trust in me. I love you, a lots ♡   

[hime-memes]

( Requested ) This long list of starters comes from the youtube content creator: Nisipisa ! In particular, the video: ‘ Let’s Go Window Shopping 6: Crimes Against Pants with Shein ‘

Trigger Warnings: Sexual Innuendo, Alcohol & Drug Mentions and Swearing.

As always: feel free to change anything within these starters that you see fit to make it work for your muse & the receiver’s muse !

( Some sentences have been modified for length, understanding, or to give fuller context. )

“ First of all, these shorts ? I’m living for the whole outfit. I appreciate _____ finding a use for trashbags that’s not just holding trash. “

“ ... I don’t have enough brain bandwidth to actually hold enough information about it ... “

“ People deserve access to clothing in their size. 100 %. “

“ I’m already kinda impressed. “

“ This is a pretty dress & this is a pretty dress. That’s pretty ! That’s ... passable ? “ 

“ We had a lot of fun last time with t-shirts. “

“ Oh my god. Oh god ... Oh yes ! This is our first graphic tee of the day. “

“ It’s a crew neck in the ugliest shade of purple known to human or lobster eyes. “

“ Sorry: #Momlife. “ 

“ You can make sure your search engine optimization is as powerful as possible when you’re waiting in line to check out at Target™ for the fourth time this week. “ 

“ I didn’t mean to shame anybody that spends three days out of their week at Target™. “

“ If there wasn’t a panna cotta going on, that would be me. It’s my favorite place in the goddamn world ! “

“ It’s second only to shoe stores that sell a size twelve ! “ 

“ As we all know - I am not a mother and will likely biologically never be one, because God looked at me and said, ‘ If I give you a reproductive system, you’re going to be too powerful ‘ and so, he just nuked my uterus. “

“ I don’t find that this t - shirt celebrates motherhood in any meaningful way. “ 

“ I do think it celebrates having bad taste in a meaningful way. “

“ You know what ? For some people: That’s enough. “ 

“ ... We aren’t going to address why having a cutout tight might be useful ... “

“ And THIS is the sexiest shoe we could have put my girl in ?! “

“  You guys put her in this conservative nightmare heel ?! “

“ I like that ______ thinks you should wear all these graphic tees with light wash mom jeans and converse low tops. “

“ I think every website should encourage it’s patrons to dress like the main character of a Sarah Dessen novel from 2007. “

“ There’s some high schooler in a debate club that’s really into it. It’s kinda their whole personality, and they’re like: ‘ This is so ironically funny for me ‘. “

“ In the year of our Lord, 2008: I started high school and my absolute favorite shirt to wear was a shirt quite like this. “

“ It looked like I was wearing long sleeves under short sleeves when in reality, I was wearing a crime. “

“  Have you ever tried layering ? Like, actual layering ? It sucks ! “ 

“ You’re kidding ! A double whammy in the same row ? Oh my god ... “ 

“ ... We have also inexplicably made the model hit this pose. “

“ The person who needs these pants is someone who likes to go out and party - likes to go to the club - but, they are also the president of a fan club for Shar Pei dogs. “

“ You know what dogs I think are cute ? ( * Googles favorite dog * ) Just look at this guy ! “ 

“ Look at these pointy bastards ! “

“ This is like if you had a bat and you did a spell on it to make it a dog ! “ 

“ These ... Now THIS is a pair of pants ! “

“  Clinically depressed, stressed jeans. “

“  You take leopard print fabric and sew it into your distressed holes. “

“ You don’t have to frankenstein it into this type of fit ... this is kinda like how a hypebeast would dress if they were in elementary school. “

“ If you put a bow on this and a tutu: this is me and my girls rolling up to the Jojo Siwa concert. “

“ Am I saying I wouldn’t wear these shorts ? No, I’m not saying that at all - I would wear the fuck outta these shorts ! “

“  As we’ve established: my taste is awful. “ 

“ Do you think in 1503, when Lisa del Giocondo sat down to start being painted for this portrait - she thought in a couple hundred years some random fast fashion brand would take her likeness, photoshop a face mask on it ... and sell it on a graphic t - shirt ? “

“ The only responsibilities I had were watching Rugrats and learning object permanence. “

“ Stop living in the past. The future is fun because my videos are in it ! “

“ This little cherry top, I think I’d probably wear. I think it’s very sweet ! “

“  I’m so weak to anything with a grid print. “ 

“ I’m going to think about this shirt for the rest of my life ... “

“ What exactly does a lil’ house elf from Harry Potter™ have to do with this ? “

“ I do feel like this floral print will cause my brain to atrophy if I look at it too long. “ 

“ Rosé is not the only wine to rhyme with ‘ all day ‘. Rosé isn’t even good ! “

“ You know what ? I don’t work for _______, so it’s fine. It’s not my responsibility ! “ 

“ Hey guys, you having fun at mushroom college ? “

“ I saw two things: The crotch butterfly and the booty butterfly and now I’m thinking these are the only clothes anyone should ever wear. Ever. “ 

“ NOT THE ‘ SEX ’ EARRINGS !? YES ! “ 

“ This is brazenly and offensively targeting a very very very specific group of people that I went to my preppy college with and I don’t appreciate that. “

“ I’ve worn spaghetti sauce stained yoga pants to bed that are sexier than this ! “

“ I’d wear the fuck outta this. “

“ I don’t know what I can say ... the picture speaks for itself, this is awful ! “

“ I’ve been saying for the longest time there is absolutely no store online that I can find articles of clothing for my single, mid-western, art teacher from the 70s, halloween costume. Finally someone is filling that niche ! “

“ This is absolutely unprecedented, because _______ decided to take something that, not only didn’t exist, but that no one has ever asked for and make it a reality. “ 

“ They think to themselves: ‘ Man - I love leopard print and I love galaxy print: but, I wish there was some way I could experience them at the same time, in an orientation that looks like the very beginnings of a DMT trip, and I wish I could experience all that whilst exercising. “

“  This is so tacky that I wanna wear it. “ 

“ Lord - Jesus, life is so beautiful. and full ... and amazing ! “ 

“ Curse allttle and carra fu///ng ON. “

“ The Rocky Horror Picture Show did not die for our sins for you to make this, okay ____ ? “

“ I feel like the person that wears this is a representative from the International Coalition of Clowns that are also Sexy. “

“ I want the opposite of this: I want a pink pastel frilly one piece that just says across the front of it, in like Curlz MT font : ‘ Death ‘. “

“ Listen, I don’t know what font that is, but I would like President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris to outlaw it. I don’t think it does society any good. “ 

“ I heart freak city ? “

“ Uh yeah, I live on Drip Goth Punk street. “

“ Is that near Superfreak Sexy Gurl lane ? “ 

“ We have a big snake problem here in Boston and I’m glad _____ is finally recognizing this. “

“ Mama. “ * Cue insane cackling * 

“ This shirt says ‘ heart stopper ’ ... that’s me when I’m a serial killer ! “ 

“ That’s so topical and current ! Thank you, _______. “ 

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Trick, treats, bets

31 Days of Spooktober

Day 11/31

Prompt: “Scaring the kids? You already do that without a mask” brycehunt pls (i'm asking this one bc of you)

Bryce both loved and hated Halloween.

She loved the costumes, the whole spooky vibes. The candy promotions were amazing, and the Devil’s Night parties were even better. But she also hated the—

Her thoughts were interrupted by the thing the hated the most. Bryce grunted, getting up and grabbing the bag of candy sitting by her side. It’s not that she hated the kids that came to her apartment for candy, she herself had done it throughout her childhood and adolescence, she just hated needing to get up all the goddamn time unless she wanted spray paint on her door or toilet paper glued to it.

She thought about leaving a bowl outside and letting the kids grab it, but it always ended up with a single boy taking the whole thing, not only making Bryce need to get up all the time during the night nonetheless, but it also forced her to buy a new bowl on the following day.

Plastering a smile on her face, Bryce opened the door, looking at the pack of children in front of her.

“Trick-or-treats!” They all said in unison, some voices muffled by their masks. Bryce’s smile turned genuine, and she started handing out the candy. As they received their candies, the kids said a quick thanks, moving to the other apartment across the hall.

Bryce prayed that he wasn’t at home, that he, like any other adult, had gone to some Halloween party. She had planned on, but her shift started so early on the following morning that she just gave up the idea, celebrating only Devil’s Night. Unfortunately, her prayers were not heard because a second later, the red door across from hers opened, a gigantic figure taking up all the threshold space. He was in his usual black pants and black shirt, a Scream mask covering his face.

Upon seeing the mask, some kids screamed, some kids laughed and most did both. They repeated the same phrase they had said moments ago to her, and so he started handing out candy.

Incapable of holding herself back, Bryce smirked ironically, leaning against her door frame. “Scaring the kids? You already do that without a mask, Hunt.”

As he always did when Bryce teased him, Hunt’s head snapped up, and she could almost see his eyes narrowing under the Scream mask.

The thing about her neighbor was plain and simple.

She fucking despised him.

Always had, even though Danika would usually point out that it was only Bryce’s stubbornness talking too loudly. Her roommate actually liked their neighbor, and that sometimes meant that Bryce had to arrive to see Hunt and Dani talking on the hallway as if they were friends. Bryce supposed they were, but she’d never admit that her best friend was friends with him.

Dani hadn’t been there when Bryce first moved their shit in. She had been traveling with her excuse of a mother to visit her sick grandpa, and so Bryce got the responsibility to move everything in before the end of summer. She hadn’t mind, not really. It wasn’t like Danika owned tons of shit, and most of the boxes were Bryce’s anyways.

And that’s when she had met Hunt.

For her whole life, Bryce had been told she was the biggest pain in the ass anyone could meet. The people saying that obviously hadn’t met Hunt Athalar.

The guy had bothered her every fucking day for a whole month. Every time a different complaint, every time just as annoying. She was being too loud, she was coming in too late and slamming the from door, her music was shit, she had to shut her dog up… Bryce wondered if Hunt made a fucking mental list every weekend regarding what he was going to complain about that week.

In the beginning she tried to be nice, tried to be polite to her neighbor but after two weeks she was just so fed up, that when Hunt complained about her coming back home so late, she just snapped.

“Well, you fucking prick, I come home late because I have a social life. Differently from you, apparently, who spends his day planning what’s he’s going to complain about next.” Bryce said, her drunken voice loud in the corridor. Hunt was standing at the door, eyes narrowed at her. “Actually, I can understand why you do that. Why you don’t have a fucking social life. It’s because you’re fucking insufferable! Going out with you must be the worst fucking torture ever.”

After that, she had slammed the door and prayed to the gods that the outburst would finally make him stop bothering her.

It didn’t.

When Dani came home, however, things got better. For some reason, Hunt seemed to like her better than he liked Bryce. If it depended on her, Danika wouldn’t even talk to that asshole, but since talking to her roommate apparently made him more friendly, Bryce never complained.

Hunt raised his mask from his face, giving Bryce a sarcastic smile. “Quinlan, always a fucking pleasure hearing your voice.”

“There are kids present.”

Hunt rolled his eyes, giving out candy to the last kids. “Cussing makes me look cooler than you to them.”

Some kids giggled, and Bryce tried— she really did try— to keep her mouth shut. “Don’t kids adore clowns?”

Despite the fact that Bryce felt as if she was back at fourth grade after that one, she felt somewhat smug.

Hunt let out a single laugh, still sarcastically smiling down at Bryce from across the hall. “I’m still the preferred one.”

“No, you’re not.”

As the kids left, Bryce knew she should go back to her apartment and hope she wouldn’t need to see Hunt’s face again for the rest of the night, but he kept standing there, and she didn’t want to be the first one to back down.

Hunt managed to bring out the very childish side of her. It was just wonderful.

“Why don’t we bet, then?” He asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Bryce narrowed her eyes, looking him up and down for no reason at all other than attempting to unnerve him. Judging from his impatient look when her eyes raised back to his face, her attempt was successful.

“I honestly would rather put toothpicks under my nails and then hit them against a wall.”

“So dramatic.” His smile widened. “But it’s ok that you don’t want. I’d be scared too.”

Oldest fucking trick on the book. Stupidest one too.

And she fell right into it.

Bryce grunted her jaw. “What fucking bet?”

“I think the kids would prefer me over you. You think the opposite.” He explained, gesturing to the middle of the corridor. “We put a box there asking them to write the number of the best house. Whoever wins gets a favor from the loser.”

Bryce scoffed, shaking her head. “As if I’d put the risk of having to owe you a favor in the hands of a bunch of ten years-olds.”

“Shouldn’t worry if you think you’re gonna win.”

Bryce bit the inside of her cheeks, looking Hunt up and down again. She knew it was a terrible bet, and she definitely did not want to owe him anything if she lost. Bryce didn’t even care about what the kids thought of her, she just didn’t want Hunt to be all smug and feeling superior.

“Fucking shit.” She murmured, rubbing her eyes. “Put the fucking box in the middle of the hallway and at midnight we count.”

And what was supposed to be a calm night— sometimes annoying— of just handing out candy, became a kissing-the-ass-of-a-bunch-of-kids night. Bryce was extra nice to all the kids, but she never asked them to vote for her house. She didn’t even knew if they were actually doing it, but she felt like asking for votes felt a little too much.

She handed out more candy to each one as she had previously expected, complimented costumes and even made small talk to the older trick-or-treaters, but beyond that she just acted normal.

As midnight approached, though, she started to wish that she had asked for those votes. The perspective of being in debt with the person she most fucking despised was terrifying, and she knew that if she lost, Hunt would definitely pick something to make her miserable.

Although she’d never admit it, she was anxiously waiting by the door for ten minutes already when the clock chimed midnight. Both she and Hunt opened the door at the same time, both looking at each other for a quick second before rushing to the box in the middle of the hallway. For the first time since she had met him, Bryce didn’t insult, scowl or even talked to Hunt. They just sat in silence on the floor and started to count.

Surprisingly, it looked like all the kids had found the question interesting enough because there were at least sixty paper votes inside the box. Half to her content, half to her worry, she and Hunt were pretty tied.

Hunt smiled, shaking the box. “Last vote, Quinlan.”

Bryce was staring at that box as if it held the answers to all of her problems. They were currently 34-34, and whoever got that vote won.

For the seconds it took Hunt to take the paper out of the box, Bryce’s heart was basically galloping inside her chest.

And when he smiled, her heart dropped.

Before he even placed the paper down on his pile, Bryce was already resting her head against the wall, groaning and cursing the children.

“Fuck no. No, no, no. Fuck, fuck no.” She groaned, shaking her head as she looked up to the ceiling.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Quinlan.” Hunt said, and although Bryce wasn’t looking at him, she knew he was smiling.

“Go choke on a dick, asshole.”

Hunt’s rich laughs reverberated through the corridor, and Bryce groaned one more time.

“The way I’m feeling right now.” Hunt gloated, only half speaking to her.

Bryce snapped her face back to him, eyes opening. She made a face, showing him the middle finger. “Why don’t you just ask your fucking favor and leave me alone?”

Hunt’s smile was nothing short of scary, and Bryce was already bracing herself for his next words. “Remember two weeks after you moved in?”

Bryce’s nervousness was substituted for confusion, and a crease created in between her eyebrows. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

Hunt’s smile grew. “Remember what you said?”

Bryce simply narrowed her eyes.

“That going out with me would be, and I quote, the worst fucking torture ever?” Hunt’s voice was sweet, smile enormous, and it took Bryce only a second to understand.

“Oh, fuck you.” She said, jaw falling. Bryce knew Hunt had no interest in her, he just wanted to antagonize her life. “Fuck you, you fucking fuck.”

Hunt laughed again, throwing his head back. Bryce crossed her arms, head shaking as she still had her jaw somewhat dropped.

“Really? You can ask for anything and you decide to chose something stupid just to annoy me?”

Hunt was too busy laughing to respond to her, and Bryce got up, scowling down at him.

“I’m gonna make you wish you’d never been born during the three hours I’m out with you.”

Hunt controlled his laughter, looking up at her. “Wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

Bryce opened her mouth, but no words came out. Instead, she just turned on her heels, walking up to her apartment and slamming the door without looking back at Hunt.

She decided, in that moment, that she actually fucking hated Halloween.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N: Getting sick when you’re doing a challenge is the biggest bitch ever. I’m hopeful I’ll finish before Halloween but who knows? This is quick and the first time I write Brycehunt, so new waters for me. Hope you enjoyed!

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woollycat22 @julemmaes @claralady

[unsettlingshortstories]

Harlequin Valentine

Neil Gaiman (1999)

 It is February the Fourteenth, at that hour of the morning when all the children have been taken to school, and the husbands have driven themselves to work, or have been dropped, steambreathing and greatcoated, at the rail station at the edge of the town for the Great Commute, when I pin my heart to Missy’s front door.

 The heart is a deep dark red that is almost a brown, the colour of liver. Then I knock on the door, sharply, rat-a-tat-tat!

And I grasp my wand, my stick, my oh-so-thrustable and beribonned lance, and I vanish like cooling steam into the chilly air…

 Missy opens the door. She looks tired.

 “My Columbine,” I breathe, but she hears not a word. She turns her head, so she takes in the view from one side of the street to the other, but nothing moves.

 A truck rumbles in the distance.

 She walks back into the kitchen and I dance, silent as a breeze, as a mouse, as a dream, into the kitchen beside her.

 Missy takes a plastic sandwich bag from a paper box in the kitchen drawer. She takes a bottle of cleaning spray from under the sink.

She pulls off two sections of kitchen towel from the roll on the kitchen counter. The she walks back to the front door.

 She pulls the pin from the painted wood – it was my hat pin, which I had stumbled across… where? I turn the matter over in my head; in Gascony, perhaps? Or Twickenham? Or Prague?

 The face on the end of the hat pin is that of a pale Pierrot. She removes the pin from the heart, and puts the heart into the plastic sandwich bag.

 She wipes the blood from the door with a squirt of cleaning spray and a rub of paper towel, and she inserts the pin into her lapel, where the little white-faced August face stares out at the cold world with his blind silver eyes and his grave silver lips.

 Naples. Now it comes back to me.

 I purchased the hat pin in Naples, from an old woman with one eye. She smoked a clay pipe.

This was a long time ago.

Missy puts the cleaning utensils down on the kitchen table, then she thrusts her arms through the sleeves of her old blue coat – which was once her mother’s – then she places the sandwich bag with the heart in it determinedly into her pocket, does up the buttons - one, two, three – and sets off down the street.

 Secret, secret, quiet as a mouse I follow her, sometimes creeping, sometimes dancing, and she never sees me, not for a moment, just pulls her blue coat more tightly around her, and she walks through the town, and down the old road that leads past the cemetery.

 The wind tugs at my hat, and I regret, for a moment, the loss of my hat pin. But I am in love, and this is Valentine’s Day. Sacrifices must be made.

 Missy is remembering in her head the other times she has walked into the cemetery, through the tall iron cemetery gates: when her father died; and when they came here as kids at All Hallows’, the whole school mob and caboodle of them, partying and searing each other; and when a secret lover was killed in a three-car pile-up on the interstate, and she walked until the end of the funeral, when the day was all over and done with, and she came in the evening, just before sunset, and laid a white lily on the fresh grave.

 Oh, Missy, shall I sing the body and the blood of you, the lips and the eyes? A thousand hearts I would give you as your valentine.

 Proudly I wave my staff in the air and dance, singing silently into the gloriousness of me, as we skip together down Cemetery road.

 A low grey building, and Missy pushes open the door.

 She says Hi and How’s it going to the girl at the desk, who makes no intelligible reply, fresh out of school, and filling in a crossword from a periodical filled with nothing but crosswords page after page of them…

 The girl would be making private phone calls on company time if only she had somebody to call, which she doesn’t, and, I see, plain as elephants, she never will. Her face is a mass of blotchy acne pustules and acne scars and she thinks it matters, and talks to nobody.

 I see her life spread out before me: She will die, unmarried, and unmolested, of breast cancer in fifteen years’ time, and will be planted under a stone with her name on it in the meadow by Cemetery Road, and the first hands to have touched her breasts will have been those of the pathologist as he cuts out the cauliflower-like stinking growth and mutters, “Jesus, look at the size of this thing. Why didn’t she tell anyone?” which rather misses the point.

 Gently, I kiss her on her spotty cheek, and whisper to her that she is beautiful. Then I tap her once, twice, thrice, on the head with my staff, and wrap her with a ribbon.

 She stirs and smiles.

 Perhaps tonight she will get drunk and dance and offer up her virginity upon Hymen’s altar, meet a young man who cares more for her breasts than for her face, and will one day, stroking those breasts and sucking and rubbing them, say, “Honey, you seen anybody about that lump?” and by then her spots will be long gone, rubbed and kissed and frottaged into oblivion.

But now I have mislaid Missy…

 The stench is unbearable, heavy and rancid and wreathed on the air. The fat man in the stained lab coat wears disposable rubber gloves. A dead man is on the table in front of him.

 The fat man has not noticed Missy yet. He has made an incision, and now he peels back the skin with a wet, sucking sound, and how dark the brown of it is on the outside, and how pink, pretty the pink of it is on the inside.

 Classical music plays from a portable radio, very loudly. Missy turns the radio off. “Hello,Vernon.”

“Hello, Missy. You come for your old job back?”

 This is The Doctor, I decide, for he is too big, too round, too magnificently well-fed to be Pierrot, too unselfconscious to be Pantaloon.

 His face creases with delight to see Missy, and she smiles to see him, and I am jealous; I feel a stab of pain shoot through my heart (currently in a plastic sandwich bag in Missy’s coat pocket), sharper than when I stabbed it with my hat pin and stuck it to her door.

 And speaking of my own heart…

 Missy holds out the plastic bag, “Do you know what this is?”

 Vernon peers at it closely. “Heart,” he replied. “Kidneys don’t have the ventricles, and brains are bigger and squishier. Where’d you get it?”

 “I was hoping that you could tell me. Doesn’t it come from here? Is it your idea of a valentine’s card, Vernon? A human heart stuck to my front door?”

 “Don’t come from here. You want I should call the police?”

 Missy shook her head. “I guess not. With my luck, they’ll decide I’m a serial killer and send me to the chair.”

 Vernon: “Let’s see… adult, in pretty good shape, took care of his heart, cut out by an expert.”

 I smile proudly at this, and bend down to talk to the dead black man on the table, with his chest all open and his calloused string-bass-plucking fingers.

 “Go ‘way, Harlequin,” he mutters, quietly, not to offend Missy and his doctor. “Don’t you go causing trouble here.”

 “Hush yourself. I will cause trouble wherever I wish,” I tell him. “It is my function. But, for a moment, I feel a void about me; I am wistful, almost Pierrotish , which is a poor thing for a harlequin to be.

 Oh, Missy, I saw you yesterday in the street, and followed you into Al’s Super-Valufoods and More, elation and joy rising within me. In you, I recognized someone who could transport me, take me from myself.

 In you I recognized my valentine. My Columbine.

I did not sleep last night, and instead I turned the town topsy and turvy, befuddling the unfuddled . I caused three sober bankers to make fools of themselves with drag queens from Madame Zora’s Revue and Bar.

 I slid into the bedrooms of the sleeping, unseen and unimagined, slipping the evidence of mysterious and exotic trysts into the pockets and under pillows and into crevices, able only to imagine the fun that would ignite the following days as soiled and spilt-crotch fantasy panties would be found poorly hidden under sofa, cushions and in the inner pockets of respectable suits.

 But my heart was not in it, and the only face I could see was Missy’s. Oh, Harlequin in love is a sorry creature.

I wonder what she will do with my gift. Some girls spurn my heart, others touch it, kiss it, caress it, punish it will all manner of endearments before they return it to my keeping. Some never even see it.

 Missy: “Shall I incinerate it?”

 “Might as well. You know where the incinerator is, and I meant what I said about your old job. I need a good lab assistant.”

 I imagine my heart trickling up to the sky as ashes and smoke, covering the world. I do not know what I think of this, but, her jaw set, Missy shakes her head and she bids goodbye to Vernon the pathologist.

 She has thrust my heart into her pocket and she is walking out of the building and up Cemetery Road and back into town.

 I caper ahead of her. Interaction would be a fine thing, I decide.

 Fitting word to deed I disguise myself as a bent old woman on her way to the market, covering the red spangles of my costume with a tattered cloak, hiding my masked face with a voluminous hood, and at the top of Cemetery Road I step out and block her way.

 Marvelous, marvelous, marvelous me, and I say to her, in the voice of the oldest of women, “Spare a copper for a bent old woman, dearie, and I’ll tell you a fortune that will make your eyes spin with joy.”

 “Here.”

 And I have it in my head to tell her all about the mysterious man she will meet, all dressed in red and yellow, with his domino mask, who will thrill her and love her and never, never leave her (for it is not a good thing to tell your Columbine the entire truth), but instead I find myself saying, in a cracked old voice, “Have you ever heard of Harlequin?”

“Yes,” she answers, “character in the Commedia dell’arte . Costume covered in little diamond shapes. Wore a mask. I think he was a clown of some sort, wasn’t he?”

 I shake my head, beneath my hood. “No clown,” I tell her. “He was…”

 And I find that I am about to tell her the truth, so I choke back the words and pretend that I am having the kind of coughing attack, to which elderly women are particularly susceptible.

 I wonder if this could be the power of love.

 I do not remember it troubling me with other women I thought I had loved, other Columbines I have encountered over centuries now long gone.

 I squint through old woman eyes at Missy; she is in her early twenties, and she has lips like a mermaid’s, full and well-defined and certain, and grey eyes, and a certain intensity to her gaze.

 “Are you all right?”

 I cough and sputter and cough some more and gasp, “Fine, my dearie-duck. I’m just fine, thank you kindly.”

 “So. I thought you were going to tell me my fortune.”

 “Harlequin has given you his heart. You must discover its beat yourself.” I hear myself saying these words, angry at my trickster tongue for betraying me.

 She stares at me, puzzled. I cannot change or vanish while her eyes are upon me, and I feel frozen.

 “Look! A rabbit!”

 And she turns, follows my pointing finger, and as she takes her eyes off me I disappear – pop! – like a rabbit down a hole.

 When she looks back, there’s not a trace of the old fortune-teller lady, which is to say me.

 Missy walks on, and I caper after her, but there is not the spring in my step there was earlier in the morning.

 Midday, and Missy has walked to Al’s Super-ValuFoods and More, where she buys a small block of cheese, a carton of unconcentrated orange juice, two avocados, and on to the County One Bank, where she withdraws two hundred and seventy-nine dollars and twenty-two cents, which is the total amount of money in her savings account, and I creep after her sweet as sugar and quiet as the grave.

 “’Morning, Missy…” says the owner of the Salt Shaker Café, when Missy enters.

 My heart would have skipped a beat if it were not in the sandwich bag in Missy’s pocket, for this man obviously lusts after her, and my confidence, which is legendary, droops and wilts.

 I am Harlequin, I tell myself, in my diamond-covered garments, and the world is my harlequinade. I am Harlequin, who rose from the dead to play his pranks upon the living. I am Harlequin, in my mask, with my wand.

 I whistle to myself, and my confidence rises, hard and full once more.

 Missy was saying: “Hey, Harve. Give me a plate of hash browns, and a bottle of ketchup.” “That all?”

“Yes. That’ll be perfect, and a glass of water.”

 I tell myself that the man Harve is Pantaloon, the foolish merchant that I must bamboozle, baffle, confusticate, and confuse.

Perhaps there is a string of sausages in the kitchen.

I resolve to bring delightful, disarray to the world, and to bed luscious Missy before midnight: my Valentine’s present to myself.

 I imagine myself kissing her lips.

 There are a handful of other diners. I amuse myself by swapping their plates while they are not looking, but I have difficulty finding the fun in it.

 The waitress ignores Missy, whom she obviously considers entirely Harve’s preserve.

 Missy sits at the table, and pulls the sandwich bag from her pocket. She places it on the table in front of her.

 Harve-the-pantaloon struts over to Missy’s table, gives her a glass of water, a plate of hash-browned potatoes, and a bottle of Heinz 57 Varieties Tomato Ketchup. 

“And a steak knife,” Missy said. As Harve turned, I stuck out my stick.

He stumbles. He curses, and I feel better, more like the former me.

 I goose the waitress as she passes the table of an old man who is reading USA Today while toying with his salad.

 She gives the old man a filthy look. I chuckle, and then I find I am feeling most peculiar. I sit down on the floor, suddenly.

“What’s that, honey?” the waitress asks.

 “Health food, Charlene,” Missy replies, “Builds up iron.” I peep over the tabletop.

She is slicing up small slices of liver-coloured meat on her plate, liberally doused in tomato sauce, and piling her fork high with hash browns.

 Then she chews.

 I watch my heart disappearing into her rosebud mouth. My valentine’s jest somehow seems less funny.

 She pops another scrap of raw gristle cut small into her mouth, and chews it hard, before swallowing.

 Charlene, the waitress, goes past once more, with a pot of steaming coffee. “So what’s with the raw meat? You anemic?”

 Missy replies, “Not anymore.”

 And as she finishes eating my heart, Missy looks down and sees me sprawled upon the floor.

She nods. “Outside. Now.”

 Then she gets up, and leaves ten dollars beside her plate.

 She is sitting on a bench on the sidewalk, waiting for me. It is cold, and the street is almost deserted.

 I would caper around her, but if feels so foolish now I know someone is watching. “You ate my heart.” I can hear the petulance in my voice, and it irritates me.

“Yes. Is that why I can see you?”

 “I guess.” I answered. “Nobody’s ever done it before.” “Take off that domino mask. You look stupid.”

I did.

 “Not much improvement,” she says. “Now, give me the hat. And the stick.” “I would prefer not to.”

Missy reaches out and plucks my hat from my head, takes my stick from my hand.

 She toys with the hat, her long fingers brushing and bending it. Her nails are painted crimson. Then she stretches and smiles, expansively. The poetry has gone from my soul, and the cold February wind makes me shiver.

 “It’s cold,” I say.

 “No.” Missy replied. “It’s perfect, magnificent, marvelous, and magical. It’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it? Who could be cold upon Valentine’s Day? What a fine and fabulous time of the year.”

 The diamonds are fading from my suit, which is turning ghost-white, Pierrot -white.

“What do I do now?” I ask.

 “I don’t know. Fade away, perhaps. Or find another role… a lovelorn swain, perchance, mooning and pining under the pale moon. All you need is a Columbine.”

 “You are my Columbine.”

 “Not anymore. That’s the joy of the harlequinade, after all, isn’t it? We change our costumes. We change our roles.”

 She flashes me such a smile, now.

 Then she puts my hat, my own hat, my harlequin-hat, up onto her head. “And you?” I ask.

She tosses the wand into the air: it tumbles and twists in a high arc, red and yellow ribbons twisting and swirling about it, and then it lands neatly, almost silently, back into her hand.

 She pushes the tip down to the sidewalk, pushes herself up from the bench in one smooth movement.

 She says to me: “I have things to do. Tickets to take. People to dream.” Then she leans over, and kisses me, full, and hard upon the lips.

Somewhere, a car backfired. I turned, startled, and when I looked back, I was alone on the street. I sat there for several moments, on my own.

 “Hey, Pete,” Charlene calls from the doorway, “Have you finished out there yet?” “Finished? Finished what, Charlene?”

“C’mon. Harve says your ciggie break is over. And you’ll freeze. Back into the kitchen.” I stared at her. She tossed her pretty hair, and, momentarily, smiled at me.

I adjusted my white clothes, the uniform of the kitchen help, and followed her inside.

 It’s Valentine’s Day, I thought.Tell her how you feel. Tell her what you think . But I said nothing, I dared not. I simply followed her inside, a creature of mute longing.

 Back in the kitchen, a pile of plates was waiting for me: I began to scrape the leftovers into the pig-bin.

 There was a scrap of dark meat on one of the plates, beside some half-finished ketchup-covered hash browns.

 It looked almost raw… but I dipped it into the congealing ketchup and, when Harve’s back was turned, I picked it off the plate and chewed it down. It tasted metallic and gristly, but I swallowed it anyhow, and could not have told you why.

 A blob of red ketchup dripped from the plate onto the sleeve of my white uniform, forming one perfect diamond.

 I called across the kitchen. “Hey, Charlene, happy Valentine’s Day. And then I started to whistle.

[ladymaigrey]

Conway’s Daredevil (Vol. 1, #75-76)

A few days ago @daresplaining​ referenced Gerry Conway’s Daredevil comics run and it reminded me of how much the interpretation of DD has changed almost the second Conway got his hands on the character (much like Miller had done a decade later). 

In Lee’s hands, Daredevil was a wise-cracking acrobat, flitting around, making stupid decisions, with an occasional panel for reflection full of self-deprecating humor. In comes Conway and, with ruthless clarity and eloquence, dumps the reader head-first into the murky depths of questionable morality, grief and pain that underlies Matt’s existence.

All of a sudden, Matt is struggling with the philosophical questions of the “greater good” and “what is it to be a hero”, and how many dubious, violent decisions he's made in the name of these concepts. He is appalled at himself - at how far he had come in the name of Daredevil’s justice: not only has he lost Karen’s love, but he is capable of glibly lying and deliberately causing physical injury to his best friend in order to gain the freedom to put on the suit. But - he is unable to and does not want to stop, and where is the line between a hero and martyr (and a Judas, one has to ask)? While Matt’s Catholicism does not become apparent until much later in the canon, it is clear that he is functioning on faith alone, and the further down this road he goes, the more he expects to lose everything and everyone, except his faith (he hopes; perhaps - he prays).

(From Issue #75)

[Matt thinks: And so it goes, eh, Matthew? Lying to your friends, losing your almost fiance, Karen ... and so it goes. Is this what your life of do-gooding has led you to? Deception and... hold it! That’s an archway up ahead ... and I don’t need my radar-senses to tell me that ol’ faithful Matthew has found himself what we call a means of escape ... and so it goes, deception follows deception, ending in betrayal. I am sorry Mr Nelson, and doesn’t that sound weak? [Shouts] Foggy! Look out... Behind you! [Strikes Foggy when Foggy looks away and runs away to change into his Daredevil suit]

Narration: Each act carries its own weight - weight which is un-heedful of the justification for the deed. As Matt has realised, life soon becomes a juggling of those weights and justifications with the final balance coming out of the sum total benefit for the world, following a lifetime of his making choices! Look at this man and try to understand his sorrow. He can never know if he’s been right in making the choices he has. He can only trust that his goal is a just one. And that, baby, is what makes heroes out of men. It’s also what makes martyrs. Some of us kinda think that the two are the same thing...!]

(And isn’t that Netflix’s Matt Murdock spelled out in a neat print?)

********

But philosophy is not all that Conway thrusts on Matt and his unprepared readers, within this short 2-issue arc (#75-#76, 1971). He flips all of Matt’s cheesy humor on its head, turning it from light-hearted gags to infuriate his enemies and distract the reader from any perception of brutality on the pages of a kid-friendly comic - to a defense mechanism for Matt himself, against the physical and emotional consequences of unleashing that brutality. This isn’t a game Matt is playing. He hurts. With every punch and flip, day upon day, the punishment he deals catches up with him and settles into his skin, joints and bones. As the cliche goes, the clown wears a smile to distract his audience from realising that he is weeping - blood as well as tears. 

He hurts not just physically, but mentally - from the cost of loneliness and lovelessness and guilt that he carries on this path to justice and glory (for he does not even do himself the favor of hiding behind selflessness). Yet there is a part of him that is sick of the constant fear, the responsibility, the blame that he piles on himself, fairly or not ...

Conway stops short of showcasing the rage that is sure to follow, but he set the flight path and Netflix’s Matt simply travels down it.

(From issue #75)

[Matt speaks to himself: Well, Man Without Fear, what’ll you blame it on - iron-poor blood? Maybe old age? After all, Mr Murdock, you are not as young as you used to be. Uh-unh... us costumed types aren’t supposed to get old. Right. I’ll buy that... if you can sell it to my aching back! Stop complaining, DD, you are only doing it to hear someone talk. That’s part of the trouble with this game - the blasted loneliness! You’ve been a towel-shoulder for lots of people in your time, lawyer-man. Who do you turn to? Who can you turn to? You’ve alienated just about everyone who’s ever tried to help you - Karen, Foggy - all of them. Karen wanted you to put aside your clown suit and become a normal man - to stop risking your life and settle into raising a set of kids. But you couldn’t give it up, you had to hurt her by rejecting her plea for sanity - and for what? Why do you do it, glory-seeker? Forget the questioning for now, DD, listen...]

(From issue #76) 

[Matt’s musings:  What’s the line? “Laugh, clown, laugh..?” The quips come fastest when your are crying inside, don’t they DD? Sure you are heavy with the words Matt, heavy when it doesn’t count! But when it came to telling a girl named Karen Page that you loved her, the tongue just dried up! But - did it happen that way, Murdock - or is it just the way you’d wished it had gone? Wasn’t it Karen who killed your romance? Didn’t she reject you, Matthew? When she learned you were Daredevil and that you wouldn’t give up your life of action - not even for her? That’s why you joke, DD, isn’t it? To hide your feelings... to hide your fear... your fear that, maybe, it’s your fault. Your fault, Man Without Fear! Face it, DD, you are just a bundle of guilt feelings. You feed on self-incrimination. Guilt feelings galore - you are even sorry that you had to knock out Foggy. Sorry regardless of the need for you to get away from him and change to Daredevil. Is there a single thing you don’t condemn yourself for, Matthew? Must you always take the blame?]

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #214: Three Angels Fallen!

December, 1981

Mission: Capture the GHOST RIDER!

Ha ha good luck with that

Tony he’s steaming you inside your own armor like a lobster you fool

Also I may be easy to impress but I do like the flame effects over the Avengers logo.

Also: hot dang Spider-Man AND some amazing friends? Those lucky NBC viewers!

So last time on Avengers time: Hank Pym Yellowjacket came back onto the Avengers and he was a jerk! He attempted to be the hero guy by shooting Elf-Queen in the back when Captain America had charisma’d her into not attacking.

Then the Avengers put him under court martial!

Given three days to prepare his defense, he instead built a killer robot to murder his friends and was shocked when the robot tried to murder his friends! He sadly walked away from the team before they could tell him to leave!

This time: that stuff all made the news.

How awkward for Hank Pym. And how awkward for the Avengers. And just how very, very awkward.

Wow, if you zoom into the news article, it’s actually a better recap than my last time thing.

Anyway. Aside from stuff that we know happened, the takeaway is that after Hank Pym left in a daze, he’s gone missing for two days. And the whole world knows what Hank did, at least in regards to the Elf-Queen and Sal incidents.

And Captain America is dealing with his turmoil by engaging in basement gymnasium work out.

Its fun how the Avengers’ workout room just migrates around the mansion.

So Cap is punching a robot training dummy to shards with his bare gloved fists and its not actually making him feel better.

Tigra is revealed to be just casually chilling up in the rafters because she likes being high.

Speaking of, I’m pretty sure she just neatly slotted into Beast’s role on the team. She’s furry and she’s sort of the clown of the team.

Tigra tells Cap to lighten up but when he keeps punching a robot she figures he wants to be alone and swings out the door.

She not-literally runs into Jarvis and they have a brief disagreement on etiquette.

Tigra: “Jarvis! Hiya!”

Jarvis: “Good day, madame!”

Tigra: “C’mon, Jarv! Call me Tigra willya? I’m not a ‘madame’! Just a cat!”

Jarvis: “In any case, madame...”

With that not dealt with, Tigra questions why Cap is so messed up over this Yellowjacket thing. Because as far as Tigra can tell, Yellowjacket is a creep who got what he deserved!

She’s really only seen Yellowjacket Hank Pym at his exact worst. And who knows how much attention she paid to the minutiae of the Avengers roster before joining. And per Jim Shooter’s argument anyway, Hank was never the standout Avenger so imagine joining the Avengers and learning that the guy that was Also There would do stuff like yell at his wife until she cried, hit his wife, accuse Captain America of slandering him and build a robot in case his court martial went against him.

She has zero positive social interactions with this guy!

Tigra: “Good riddance, I say! I mean, you only had to see the way he treated the Wasp to know he was a first class rat.”

Jarvis: “You are mistaken, madame! I have known Dr. Pym for years! He is a fine man... a good man! I have never seen him flinch from any danger or duty no matter how fearsome or grim! Truly, he is a hero!”

“Men are fallible -- even heroes -- and Dr. Pym, like any man must bear the consequences of his actions! Judge him not too harshly, madame -- until you have proven yourself as he has!”

Tigra: “He’s proven he’s a rat to me! Anyway, I hope Cap gets over this!”

Jarvis: “As do I, madame!”

Meanwhile, at the Windows of the World Bar, a bar that was in the twin towers back in the heady year of 1981.

A waiter named Mario startles in amazement as he sees Thor fly by the window of Windows of the World. Wow, maybe he’s coming here. Mario thinks how cool it would be if Thor was coming to the bar and he could wait on a real live Avenger. As he serves a Dr. Pepper to Tony Stark.

Tony can’t help but reflect on the irony because this guy is going to be waiting on two Avengers because Thor, as Completely Normal Expert Surgeon Dr. Donald Blake, is coming to meet with him.

The reason why Tony asked to meet specifically with Dr. Donald Blake is because he wants his medical opinion on the strange case of Hank Pym.

Blake immediately points out that he’s not a psychiatrist but then gladly gives his opinion anyway.

Donald Blake: “Well, I’m not a psychiatrist, Tony, but obviously he’s had a breakdown! Most likely it was caused by stress! Since he recently rejoined the Avengers, I suspected he was demanding too much of himself -- but then I think he always has! I often considered trying to talk to him about it, but... you know, even before we confided in each other about our civilian identities we were close friends as Thor and Iron Man... but neither of us were close to Hank!”

I guess that’s true. Interesting to think though that these guys were the founding Avengers but while Iron Man and Thor became close friends in and out of costume, Hank Pym whose identity has been open for a while didn’t really have close friends on the Avengers.

Yeah, sure, they’d go to bat for him. But there’s this distance. But Jan became good friends with everyone. Naturally gregarious, her. So its not just a case where she and Hank were off in their own social unit and separate from the Avengers or the commuting distance.

But like I said, they’ll go to bat for Hank. Blake thinks that his breakdown can be treated but that the treatment will be expensive.

Tony “Money is no problem!” Stark says money won’t be a problem. He’ll pay for Hank’s treatment.

Blake points out that Hank might be too proud to accept charity so Tony decides he’ll give him the money “and a job at Stark International! I’ll work his tail off ‘til it’s paid back, if that’s the way he wants it!”

That’s our Tony!

I wonder what the end plan there is. After his treatment is Tony thinking Hank will just come back to the Avengers? I wonder if he’s talked to Wasp about this hypothetical plan.

Because that’d be a thorny situation.

Speaking of, over at the house of Wasp:

“She is Janet Van Dyne Pym -- an Avenger,  in her guise as the Wasp. She is heiress to a large fortune. This house is hers. As is anything else that she desires, if money can buy it. Most women would envy her -- and yet in recent times she has been unhappy. The contentment she feels now has grown only during the last two days -- since the disappearance of her husband.”

And she is at work sketching fashion designs. She is a fashion designer.

Jenkins the probably butler comes in to tell Janet a thing.

Jenkins: “Mrs. Pym -- ?”

Jan: “Jenkins, I asked you not to call me that! Ms. Van Dyne, if you please, or ‘hey you,’ but --”

Jenkins: “Yes, madame, but, um you have a visitor -- Mr. Pym! Do you wish to see him, madame?”

Jan: “Not really... but I suppose it’s necessary. All right, Jenkins, my shades are discreetly in place! Lead me to him!”

Jenkins: “Does your eye still hurt a great deal, madame?”

Jan: “Yes... and it’s still swollen shut -- but you know, Jenkins. I’m seeing more clearly than ever, now!”

So Jan goes to see Hank.

Apparently he’s been wandering around in a fugue state for two days since the court martial.

Hank says that Jan probably hates him but she corrects him. She pities him. But not enough to put up with him anymore.

And she demands a divorce.

Hank: “Jan, I know it’s too late to talk, but I want to anyway! How’s your eye? I guess I gave you quite a shiner, huh?”

Jan: “‘Shiner’ is a cute word for something that’s painful and humiliating! It makes me sick... and so do you!”

Hank: “I -- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you! I was upset!”

Jan: “You were more than upset, Hank! You’re a deeply troubled man! You need help!”

Hank stammers, and seems to be wishing that Jan could help him. Or wishing that Jan could understand him. Or that Jan could do something.

Jan: “Sorry, Hank! For years, I lived for you, clinging to you and worshiping you to support your fragile ego! I submerged myself completely to prop you up! No more! Never again! Now, please leave!”

Wow.

This is the very thing I was complaining about last issue with Jan’s sexy talk at Hank. Shooter played me for that exact reaction.

Anyway, she really wants him gone. Now. And two days was enough time that she’s had all his stuff packed up in one of her cars so he can gtfo. She even offers to give him a bunch of money to live on if it’ll get rid of him.

But Hank refuses to take her money. He doesn’t want anything more from her. He seemingly recognizes that he’s hurt her enough. And when she asks how he’ll live, he says he can live off his income from his books and patents.

He’ll be fine.

He won’t be fine.

There’s a scene transition to a seedy motel and a melancholic Hank sitting on the bed as the narration lets us know that actually Hank is deeply in debt and had to sell his patents years ago. All his books are out of print.

I know that he rankled at being supported by Jan but still, how did he end up in debt? Geez, Hank, you’re bad at finance.

“Though he has known gnawing doubt and discontent for months, his expulsion from the Avengers plunged him into agonizing despair beyond his darkest imaginings. He believed that day to be the absolute nadir of his life -- until an hour ago, when he ultimately, irrevocably lost his wife.”

Well.

I actually sort of imagine that if he hadn’t ghosted for two days, Jan wouldn’t have come to the decision to divorce him and cut him out of her life as soon as possible.

She was still in his corner despite what he did. He kept mum on the murder robot, hoping that the court martial would go well, that he had prepared some sort of defense that wasn’t. The thing that he actually said.

I actually suspect that it was disappearing for two days is what made up her mind. The last rocky bit of their relationship was paved in Hank’s emotional unavailability. He wouldn’t let her in. I think spending three days locked up in a murder robot lab instead of talking to her kind of says it all. And disappearing for two days after puts an exclamation on the sentence.

Anyway, I’m glad that he did disappear those two days. All that stuff Jan said about submerging herself for him rings true. I’d much rather she hadn’t been hurt at all but I’ve heard that this post Hank period of her life is a kind of renaissance for her.

She’s really going to spread her wings, if you’ll forgive the pun.

And to borrow a phrase. She’s more interesting without him.

So back at Avengers Mansion, Cap is still. Just. Beating the shit out of the exercise equipment. Geez, Cap.

If you haven’t worked out your frustrations at this point then I don’t know that breaking more equipment is going to!

Jarvis comes in with a lemonade for Cap. A lemonade and a heaping scoop of tell him to get his shit together.

Through. Geez. Through some reverse psychology spiel about the nanny state? Geez, Jarvis. C’mon.

Jarvis: “Years ago, people spoke with reverence about something called ‘the American Dream’! They believed that any man was free to go as far and high as his wits, courage and determination might carry him... They knew that, as with any dream, there was a risk! A man might fail! These days many people want to eliminate the risk! They think some ‘big brother’ should ensure that everyone succeeds!”

Cap: “I know! That’s foolish!”

Jarvis: “But, you see, they claim that things aren’t fair -- that one may be a good man and try very hard and still not achieve his goal!”

Cap: “That’s true! It’s not always fair! No one ever said it would be! Whatever the goal, there will always be some good men who fall short for some reason -- but the best of them will pick themselves up and go at it again, until -- Hmm... All right, Jarvis, I get the message! I’m going to stop being a ‘big brother’ -- stop blaming myself for Hank’s failure... and trust in the fact that, deep down, he’s one of the best!”

Don’t love the ideological argument that got him there but glad to see Cap buck up.

So we scene transition again and time transition to a different person in a different mood.

Johnny Blaze is sitting on an outcropping over a mountain road watching the traffic go by.

He’s in a dour mood because he lost his title as world champion motorcycle stunt rider. And apparently the last dregs of his self-respect.

I have no idea what’s going on in the Ghost Rider book but apparently his life has imploded.

So as he sees some “rich, carefree son of a gun” driving around in his sixty grand custom Ferrari while he himself doesn’t even know when he’ll be able to afford a meal again, why it makes him mad.

Valid.

And he decides hey the world has wronged him so why not lash out a little, as a treat. Starting with the dick in the Ferrari.

And the dick in the Ferrari just happens to be Warren Worthington III, the former X-Man known as Angel.

Also, Ghost Rider’s former teammate on the very short-lived Champions team.

So Ghost Rider pulls alongside Warren’s car in his motorcycle and pops a 200 MPH wheelie to get ahead of the car so he can stand right in the middle of the road.

Warren is apparently a nice guy so instead of going ‘fuck that skeleton bastard’ and running him over, knowing he’ll be fine, Warren swerves.

But he swerves going 190 MPH. And crashes his expensive car into a rock busting it up.

And then dick ‘the middle of the road is a fine place for a stand’ Ghost Rider yanks Warren out of his busted up car and rips his shirt off.

Because he wasn’t actually sure it was really Warren? Maybe Ghost Rider has trouble with facial recognition.

Anyway, Ghost Rider is like ‘race me, nerd!’ and when Warren doesn’t want to Ghost Rider goes “You will do as I say... or perhaps I shall give this woman of yours a kiss, eh?”

Not great, Ghost Rider. This is a bad look for you.

Warren agrees to the race.

So to prepare, Ghost Rider creates a motorcycle out of flame. Hm? What happened to the other motorcycle? Disintegrated off-panel. Ghost Rider mentions that its a big drain to create the motorcycle and that this might give Warren an advantage.

Its all a bit clunky so I think the artist drew Ghost Rider making the motorcycle and forgot that the motorcycle was already out. So then the dialogue had to cover the lapse.

You see that some of the times.

Anyway, the race starts and Ghost Rider immediately starts winning. Even having to deal with the rough terrain, his flaming cycle just go nyoom.

This race doesn’t have any explicit stakes though. And figuring he has nothing to gain nor to loooooooose now that his girlfriend Candy is out of reach, Warren decides he’s just going to beat up Ghost Rider.

So he pours on the speed in a power dive to catch up and hammer punches him off the motorcycle.

Warren decides that might as well have a conversation with the guy.

Warren: “Threatening Candy was a bad idea, Blaze! You used to be on the good guys’ side! What’s wrong with you -- ? What’s gotten into you?”

Ghost Rider: “It’s not what’s gotten into me, cretin! It’s what’s gotten out! I am the living spirit of vengeance! Once Johnny Blaze tempered my wrath with his mercy and compassion, but, no more! To Hades with his heroic altruism and polite fairness! My way is swift and sure! When there is injustice the Ghost Rider craves vengeance -- ! And it shall be mine!”

And then he sets Warren on fire.

Geez, Ghost Rider.

And he used hellfire too, which burns the soul instead of the flesh.

“And an angel falls screaming to the Earth.”

One-third of a title drop!

Ghost Rider takes off on his motorcycle, cackling into the night.

Nine hours later, Warren is in a coma in the hospital. Candy has tried calling the Avengers, hoping to get Beast since he was a friend of Warren’s.

But whoops! Beast left the team recently! But unwhoops! Cap decided that this looks like a job for the Avengers anyway!

Not like he had anything better to do.

Look at him. He was playing a World War II video game.

That scamp.

But after promising that the Avengers would come to Alkalai Flats, Cap realizes that the Avengers are short-handed. Yellowjacket was booted from the team, obviously. But Wasp has taken herself off the active list.

So they’re down to four people (and after they made such a big deal trying to pare down the team, womp womp! Bet you wish Jocasta were still around!) but Cap figures eh what the heck, I bet Thor, Iron Man, Tigra, and Captain America is enough to handle a character called ‘Ghost Rider’!

Which makes me think he has no idea what they’re getting into and that makes me laugh.

Anyway, the next day in Alkalai Flats, New Mexico.

Johnny Blaze working as the pump guy at the local gas station. Remember when pumps were manned? Me neither. Apparently it was a thing in the wild 80s.

Johnny is thinking wow he really should have skipped town after he forced Ghost Rider down and took control back. He feels really sore about lashing out at the world. But he feels so guilty about what he did that he can’t leave until he knows Warren’s going to be okay.

So he got a job pumping gas so he can afford to eat. And he visits the hospital everyday to check on Warren.

And then the Avengers arrive, touching down at the local airfield.

The Avengers, being Avengers, take some time to sign some autographs. Well, Cap, Tigra, and Thor do. Iron Man goes to talk to Mayor Obadiah, the sheriff, the postmaster, and the chamber of commerce.

Its all the same guy.

That sure is a collection of power in one pair of hands! And can one person really be a chamber? Aside from Jonothon Starsmore, I don’t mean him.

Anyway, the airfield is a distance from the town so Iron Man asks where he can rent a car (from the mayor) who takes them to the motel (owned by the mayor).

There’s some fun dialogue here as the mayor calls Iron Man “Mr. Man” and when Iron Man says “uh... that’s Iron Man” the mayor switches to “Mr. Iron.”

And there’s another fun moment as the mayor/sheriff/postmaster/etc drive them to town in the back of his pickup with Tigra snarking at Thor who is standing arms akimbo that even he can’t look classy in the back of a pickup.

Before calling herself a liar in her thoughts.

This whole sequence is just a little bit goofy and I love it.

I wonder if Iron Man more deeply regrets this than the time he had to commandeer a bus.

(Aww, look at Thor waving to the crowd)

But this goofy little sequence is great especially considering what we got last time. And even at the beginning of this issue. Its nice to deescalate the tone a bit.

Iron Man and Thor fly off in separate directions to look for Ghost Rider, unaware that Johnny Blaze saw them arrive at the hotel and went ‘welp! Time to lie low!’

And Tigra decides: “If I’m going to go prowling around the West I think I ought to be dressed appropriately!” and walks into a clothing store.

The ladies running it don’t quite know what to make of any of this. Especially when Tigra keeps talking.

Tigra: “Ah’d like to buy some fancy duds fer huntin’ down a certain varmint owlhoot who’s been terrorizin’ these here parts, ma’am.”

Evalyn: “Beg your pardon -- ? Say, miss, aren’t you one of those Revengers?”

Tigra: “A-vengers! Yes, ma’am!  And yes, my entire body is covered with fur! And, yep, I’m a bona fide cat lady! Yes, I adore fish! No, I don’t eat little friskies, and I don’t take baths by licking myself! Any other questions?”

Evalyn: “What size are you dear?”

With that settled, Tigra decides to try on everything and tells them to bill the Avengers.

I thiiink I know why Tigra wanted so badly to join the Avengers now.

And, hey, understandable! Spending Tony Stark’s money in between doing superhero stuff is a great lifestyle if you can get it.

Its funny because she just got a check for a thousand dollars two days ago.

Tigra has been a very fun character so far if you very purposefully subtract the uncomfortable harassment of Jarvis.

But its nice that someone on the team is having a good time.

I do wonder if she’s absorbing traits from the absent Jan? Huge shopping spree in the middle of a mission is something I can imagine being written for the Wasp. Although the end result is decidedly more Tigra.

Anyway, having purchased a sexy cowgirl outfit to her liking, she goes to find Cap.

And Cap is talking to a mechanic. Cap wants a motorcycle. Adamson the mechanic has a motorcycle. He wants to lend Cap the motorcycle for free in thanks for his service to the country. Cap, being Cap, insists on paying $50 a day.

And that’s how Cap gets a motorcycle that he is inevitably going to break.

Cap: “Well... hello, podner!”

Tigra: “Hiya, Cap! Got room for a catty cowperson?”

Cap: “Hop on!”

Of all the things, I didn’t expect Cap and Tigra to be on the same bad faux western talk train together.

Tigra: “Whee! This is fun! Great idea, Cap!”

Cap: “It’ll help us cover more ground!”

Okay so they’re not entirely on the same page.

This has been a very fun two pages.

So the Avengers spend the whole day fruitlessly searching. Its a good thing that its a slow day in New York. But honestly, Spider-Man and the Fantastic Four can probably handle holding down the fort.

The next day, they’re still looking!

I wonder how much time they were willing to put into this if nothing came up? But then something comes up!

Local child Kim decided that he’d tie a blanket around his neck and play Thor up on a water tower.

I cannot believe that Thor is a bad example by proximity. Geez, Thor. Try to consider who you are adjacent to.

Kim’s mother runs and finds Johnny Blaze who is just about to skip town, having realized that if Angel wakes up, he is S O L.

But Johnny Blaze can’t let a child fall to his death and against his better judgement decides to change into Ghost Rider.

Johnny Blaze/Ghost Rider: “He’ll fall any minute! I can’t reach him in  time! No one could... except... the Ghost Rider! He could! But, do I dare change? If I do -- will he save the boy? I’ve got to chance it! Got to remember I’m doing this to save the kid! Must save the child! The child... Bah! Forget the child! If he should die by his own hand, what does the Ghost Rider care? What is there to avenge? But the Avengers dare to hunt me! There is an affront that the Spirit of Vengeance cannot ignore!”

And then Ghost Rider just ghost rides away from the water tower.

But never to fear! Iron Man swoops in out of nowhere.

Iron Man: “Pardon me, young man, but I couldn’t help but noticing your unusual radar blip!”

Kim: “I-Iron Man?”

Iron Man: “That’s me! It’s all right now, soon -- but don’t ever do this again!”

See, Thor? You should constantly tell children not to try cool things, just in case.

Miles away, Ghost Rider vrooms past Cap and Tigra on their rented motorcycle and then zooms off telling them to give chase, IF THEY DARE.

Zooms off right along the median divider.

Tigra is like uh I don’t think chasing the guy with the flaming head is a good idea, uh Cap we’re driving on the wrong side of the highway, uh I think he’s leading us into a trap but Cap says “Don’t distract me! I think we’re gaining on him!” like he’s a suburban dad on a road trip vacation, about to inevitably take the wrong exit.

Anyway, Ghost Rider leads them into a box canyon.

While he drives straight up the wall, Cap can’t do that no matter how cool he is. So he just crashes into the wall while yelling at Tigra to brace herself.

To her credit, Tigra is flung off the bike and lands on her feet because cat powers. But Cap takes a rough tumble. Plus, he wrecked the bike and that was a loaner! Geez, Cap!

Oh, and Ghost Rider pops up behind them and sets them both on fire. And by that I mean sets their souls on fire because thats PG for some reason while having all your skin burned off is decidedly not.

“Streams of hellfire spurt from the demon’s outstretched hands -- washing over Tigra and Captain America, seizing them in its crackling embrace. The flames bite deep into their souls, and in a searing instant, they know what it is to be dragged eternally thruogh the pits of Hades. Their screams echo through the canyons -- and do not go unnoticed.”

Geez.

Kind of an overreaction honestly, Ghost Rider.

But like the block quote said, their screams didn’t go unnoticed and Iron Man flies in their direction to find Ghost Rider surfing on his motorcycle.

This is a weirdly, morbidly jolly Ghost Rider, isn’t he?

Anyway, Iron Man tackles him off his motorcyle, boasting that his armor can withstand any fire that Ghost Rider can generate.

Hey, kids in the audience!

Er, uh, hey, anyone at all in the audience?

Can you guess the logical flaw in Iron Man’s statement?

Is it...

That he has eye holes and a mouth hole cut out of his helmet and his face is now on fire?

If you guessed that ahead of looking at the panels, congratulations! You are now the proud owner of 10 Fun Time Avengers Reward Points. These can hypothetically be exchanged for fun prizes.

Also: I’m being reminded of Transformers trauma and I don’t like it.

So then Thor swoops down to take his swing at things.

Ghost Rider shoots FIRE EYE BEAMS at the thunder god but Thor just walks out of the flames like a cool guy.

This Thor, what a cool guy.

And then he throws his mighty mallet Mjolnir with a boast:

Thor: “It serves you well to claim kinship with the devil men name in their religions! Liar! You are but a creature of dark magic, a demon from some hellish mystic realm! I, too am a being from a mystic realm! I know what you are -- and I fear thee not! The hammer of the thunder god shall smite thee down, false one!”

Ghost Rider jumps on his motorcycle and... okay this is too good. I have to show you this in its entirety.

So Ghost Rider outraces Mjolnir and then grabs the hammer as its looping back to Thor and lets it carry him at great speed right at Thor so he can bowl Thor over with his motorcycle.

All while laughing like this is just the most fun he’s ever had.

I like that he also manages to spend nearly this entire sequence dunking on Thor. That’s efficiency of screentime.

So the Avengers regroup. Well, they try.

Tigra freaks out at the thought of, y’know, having her soul set on fire again. Which. Valid.

But being an Avenger means having to do stupid stuff.

Tigra: “What?! F-face that again?! You can’t be serious! I -- I couldn’t take any more of that! Cap! You went through it too! You know what it was like! Why aren’t you afraid?”

Cap: “I -- I am! I’ve never known anything so horrifying! But we’ve got to put it behind us!”

Tigra: “I can’t! What if he burns me again! I’d go mad! Please Cap, don’t make me go!”

Cap: “Pull yourself together, girl! We may need you! Think about it -- we can’t let him hurt other people that way! We’ve got to go after him!”

Tigra: “I -- I’ll try, Cap! I’ll try!”

Mm. Tigra is the logical one for this character beat since she’s new to the team. But I dunno. It doesn’t sit entirely well that the only woman on the team is being used for this beat. I’d be more annoyed if Wasp was getting it so there’s that, I guess.

It also helps that Tony is in the background thinking

Iron Man: “I... know how you feel, Tigra! Believe me! I don’t know how you do it, Cap... no armor, no weapons, no superhuman abilities -- but you put us all to shame! What a man!”

I read that in the Ace Rimmer “What a guy!” tone.

Anyway, my misgivings are also somewhat lessened by Cap admitting he’s afraid too and later saying its not wrong to be frightened but you can’t let your fear dictate your actions.

Because “being an Avenger means having to do stupid stuff.” A very wise me once said that. I did.

So Ghost Rider is headed back to Alkalai Flats to find Warren Worthington and kick his ass.

Which is usually warranted, hah, but since Warren is still in the hospital from the previous asskicking, just feels gratuitous.

The Avengers manage to head Ghost Rider off on his way back to town and Iron Man blasts him off his bike.

Ghost Rider behaves in the classy way you’d expect of the man who once posed for this saucy picture.

Ghost Rider: “Idiots! Have you not learned to fear my wrath yet? The girl does! I see it in her eyes! Very well, let her burn first!”

And he shoots some hellfire at Tigra.

Thankfully, Captain “One Step Ahead” America was one step ahead and suspected that Ghost Rider would go after her.

Ghost Rider then turns his fire on Thor and Iron Man but they no sell it (because Iron Man remembered to seal up his armor this time).

So he tries to go after Tigra again and this time gets blocked by Thor.

Thor then pins down Ghost Rider by spinning his hammer just really super fast to create a vortex and Cap says they need to press their advantage and get Ghost Rider to surrender.

Ghost Rider: “Stupid mortals! A hell-spawned spirit cannot surrender! I fight until the vengeance I crave is mine -- or I am destroyed!”

And then Warren T. Worthington III just shows up out of nowhere and spills the beans all over Ghost Rider that this whole tantrum has been a kind of just a tantrum. Because he figured Ghost Rider needed a friend.

Ghost Rider is like “I have no friends!” defiantly and maybe doesn’t realize its a bit sad.

Warren “Angel” T. Worthington III: “I have a theory about you! I think that the more bitter and unhappy you are as Johnny Blaze, the more ruthless and savage the Ghost Rider is when he emerges! You haven’t been too happy as Johnny Blaze lately, I take it! I heard you lost your title! So you took it out on me! That was dumb enough -- but then you made it worse! You almost made it a lot worse! What if the Avengers hadn’t stopped you? Were you out to kill me? Burn the town? Where would it have ended?”

Ghost Rider insists that he seeks vengeance and Angel is like ‘ok fine then vengeance on me. Kill me, dingus.’

But he can’t do it. Or more likely Johnny can’t do it. And his head extinguishes and Johnny takes back over.

To sit on the ground with his hands over his face asking everyone to leave him alone.

The Avengers who were just kind of sitting in the background for this entire encounter, not really sure how to feel about any of this, don’t know how to feel about any of this.

Thor even wonders what to do. But Angel tells him ‘Well Technically Johnny Blaze committed no crimes and I don’t see a Ghost Rider around!’

Cap decides, yeah, this is a good ending! This is a good moment to walk away on! Not our problem anymore! Reminds him of a thing, in fact! Something from his life and maybe a conversation he had the other day?

Cap: “This reminds me of Hank in a way! He lets things get to him... made one mistake... and then made it worse!”

Tigra: “What will become of him?”

Cap: “He has help available if he wants it -- but it’s like he said -- he has a choice! No ‘big brother’ can make it for him! In the end, it’s all up to him!”

Kinda clever to make the story about the Hank Pym overarching plot without belaboring Hank Pym. The Avengers just get involved in a situation that Cap analogizes to the one that the Avengers are experiencing while Hank Pym himself only appears on a few pages. Just enough so we remember that the story is ongoing.

It also lets the story get some lighter toned stuff in the middle of the heavy stuff. Tigra is a delight in this. Even Ghost Rider with his maniacal glee at punking the Avengers is worth a chuckle.

And we get the three fallen angels of the title.

Warren T. Worthington III in a literal sense. He’s a superhero called Angel and he fell because Ghost Rider kicked his ass.

Ghost Rider because demonic related abilities and demons are said to be fallen angels.

Hank Pym because he was one of the heroes, ‘on the side of angels’ but has fallen from grace because of mistakes.

And both Ghost Rider and Hank Pym have people that are willing to go to bat for them despite the mistakes they’ve made. If they’re only willing to accept that help.

I guess Angel too had people willing to go to bat for him since the Avengers flew all the way out here to help him despite barely knowing him.

So what next for the Avengers? And what next for the fall of Yellowjacket?

Next: “Enter the Silver Surfer! Also: the End of the World!”

Dammit, the world can’t end, we’re in the middle of a character journey here!

Follow @essential-avengers because you want to know what happens next but you also want to watch me reblog older posts. Wow, I’m bad at selling this! Please like and reblog also!

[chemicalmagecraft]

Taiyuu Round 3

@taiyuu-high-oct

Hiraku sighed as he trudged along the tunnel. This day was just... the worst. First he got his arm dislocated in the training match, which he didn't really blame Ningyo-kun for but it was still annoying even though he treated it and later got Arakan-kun to use his healing Quirk on it. Then a certain idiot who shall not be named Takakutou destroyed an entire fucking building, which sent up a giant cloud of dust over the entire sundown zone. Surprisingly enough, having a Quirk that involves breathing through your entire body makes getting engulfed in a giant dust cloud rather annoying. And then villains attacked, which was not fun. So he had had to make sure his classmates got to the tunnel that leads to the mainland in one piece, which was stressful. And then once everyone was safely in the tunnels he'd had to tend to several wounded. Senshi had glass in their sides, Hiyasu-kun had mild hypothermia, Sugiyama-kun had a broken arm, Tokachi-kun had a concussion, and that wasn't even all of it. Hiraku made a note to himself that when this whole thing was over he needed to make a presentation or something on Not Injuring Your Fellow Students in Training Exercises and go over it with the entire school until the message stuck.

The walk in the tunnel was... long. Nobody died, though Masaki-kun and Spellman-kun both gave them all a scare at one point due to their Quirk drawbacks. A few hours later they finally got to the end of the tunnel, where there was a bus waiting for them. Hiraku tried to calm everyone's nerves, but he didn't know how good of a job he did...

Eventually they stopped in front of a very familiar-looking building. "IS THAT UA!?" most of Taiyuu shouted at once.

Hiraku sighed. "This is gonna be fun..." He muttered sarcastically.

Tokei-kun raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you okay?" they asked, sounding a little tired.

Hiraku shrugged. "My cousin goes here. She's not... bad or anything, but she can be a little overbearing sometimes. And considering what just happened..." They winced. "Yeah..."

They filed out of the bus and were greeted by Laccadaisy and UA's principal, Aizawa. "We've set up a dorm for your use while you're here," Aizawa explained to the students. "Please make yourselves at home. You've clearly had a long day, so get some rest."

"Alright, Taiyuu students!" Laccadaisy shouted. "Follow me to the dorms!"

While they followed Laccadaisy, Aizawa pulled a few students aside to tell them something silently. After a few students he put his hand on Hiraku's shoulder. "Your cousin's looking for you," he muttered. "She's been worried all day."

Hiraku nodded. "I figured. She's gonna ambush me by the dorm isn't she."

He patted him on the back. "Yup. Good luck, kid."

o.o.o

Even though Hiraku had braced himself, he was still startled when Kokoro lifted him off his feet and swung him around like a doll. "Hiraku, we were all so worried about you!" she shouted in Maori.

"Please put me down," Hiraku told her, also in Maori.

"No."

Hiraku sighed and looked around. His classmates looked a little concerned that a giant girl had picked him up and started squeezing him while speaking in a language that they'd probably never heard before. He saw that Yukino-kun was also getting accosted by two girls. He nodded at her and she nodded back. "Right, this is my cousin, Kokoro," Hiraku said to his classmates as he tried to squirm out of his cousin's iron grip. "Sorry if she startled you."

"Sup," she said as she put Hiraku down. "Name's Inoue Kokoro. You guys can call me Kokoro." She started resting her elbow on Hiraku's head like he was an armrest. "Anyway, Imma steal your classmate for a bit."

"Wait, what?" Hiraku managed to get out before he was picked up again and slung over Kokoro's shoulder. "Hey! Put me down!"

She laughed. "No can do. I don't know what you did with your phone, but both your mothers have been calling me on and off for the entire day. Now it's your turn."

"I left my phone in the changing room because I didn't think the school would get attacked," he replied. "I only just managed to get the first-aid kit, I wasn't going to go back for my phone!"

"You can borrow mine."

Hiraku sighed, consigned to his fate.

o.o.o

One day and about fifty phone calls from concerned mothers later, Hiraku was in Gym Gamma wearing lime green tie-dye hero costume. It was really breathable, which is a great thing when your Quirk involves the ability to breathe through any part of your body. Plus the costume was supposed to filter out dust and other airborne particles, like a facemask. It seemed Laccadaisy had grabbed everyone's prototype hero costumes after she was done with the villains, and UA's support department had put the finishing touches on them overnight. Meaning that to distract everyone from the fact that Taiyuu was attacked, Laccadaisy had decided to have the students test out their new costumes in one-on-one spars.

Hiraku cracked his knuckles as he stared down Suzuki-kun, his opponent. She was wearing a weird dress that reminded Hiraku of a clown. "You know, usually I'm not all that enthusiastic about the idea of fighting with my classmates," Hiraku admitted.

"Oh?" Suzuki-kun said.

A hissing noise spread across Hiraku's body as he filled up his lungs. "But the past day has been a little stressful, so you'll have to forgive me if I enjoy this a little."

She smiled eerily. "You're assuming you'll be able to even touch me."

"Start!" Laccadaisy ordered.

[insanityclause]

Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

A Director Making His Mark in More Ways Than One

LONDON — The director Jamie Lloyd was giving me a tour of his tattoos. Not the Pegasus on his chest or the skeleton astronaut floating on his back, though he gamely described those, but the onyx-inked adornments that cover his arms and hands, that wreathe his neck, that wrap around his shaved head.

When I asked about the dragon at his throat, he told me it had been “one of the ones that hurt the least,” then pointed to the flame-licked skulls on either side of his neck: his “covert way,” he said, of representing drama’s traditional emblems for comedy and tragedy.

“I thought maybe it’d be a little bit tacky to have theater masks on my neck,” he added, a laugh bubbling up, and it’s true: His dragon would have eaten them for lunch.

It was early December, and we were in a lounge beneath the Playhouse Theater, where Lloyd’s West End production of “Cyrano de Bergerac,” starring James McAvoy in a skintight puffer jacket and his own regular-size nose, would soon open to packed houses and critical praise.

Running through Feb. 29, and arriving on cinema screens Feb. 20 in a National Theater Live broadcast, “Cyrano” — newly adapted by Martin Crimp, and positing its hero as a scrappy spoken-word wonder — capped a year that saw Lloyd celebrated on both sides of the Atlantic.

In London last summer, his outdoor hit “Evita” traded conventional glamour for sexy grit, while his radical reinterpretation of Harold Pinter’s “Betrayal,” starring Tom Hiddleston, was hailed first in the West End, then on Broadway. Ben Brantley, reviewing “Betrayal” in The New York Times, called it “one of those rare shows I seem destined to think about forever.”

When Time Out London ranked the best theater of 2019, it gave the top spot jointly to all three Lloyd productions, saying that he “has had a year that some of his peers might trade their entire careers for.”

Lloyd, who is 39, did not spring from the same mold as many of those peers. There was for him, he says, no youthful aha moment of watching Derek Jacobi onstage and divining that directing was his path. Epiphanies like that belonged to other kids, the ones who could afford the tickets.

If there is a standard background for a London theater director — and Lloyd would argue that certainly there used to be — that isn’t where he came from, growing up working class on the south coast of England, in Margaret Thatcher’s Britain.

The first time I laid eyes on him, chatting in the Playhouse lobby after a preview of “Cyrano,” he was the picture of working-class flair — the gold pirate hoops, the pink and black T-shirt, the belt cinching high-waisted pants.

He looks nothing like your typical West End director. Which of course is precisely the point.

What’s underneath

“It’s quite often said of him,” McAvoy observed by phone, once the reviews were in, “that he strips things away or he tries to take classical works and turn them on their head. I think he’s always just trying to tell the story in the clearest and most exhilarating way possible.”

The “X-Men” star, who put the number of times he’s worked with Lloyd in the past decade at a “gazillion,” calls theirs “probably one of the most defining relationships that I’ve had in my career.”

Yet Lloyd himself is on board with the notion that his assertively contemporary stagings pare back stifling layers of performance history to lay bare what’s underneath.

Like the tiger and dragons that he had emblazoned on his head just last May, though, the unembellished nature of his shows — as minimalist in their way as his tattoos are the opposite — is a relatively recent development.

Lloyd’s first “Cyrano de Bergerac,” starring Douglas Hodge in 2012, was also his Broadway debut. It was, he said, “absolutely the ‘Cyrano’ that you would expect,” with the fake nose, the hat, the plume, the sword-fighting.

There is, granted, sword-fighting in the new one — but the audience has to imagine the swords.

Lloyd’s productions, including a lauded revival of Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine’s “Passion” in 2010, long marked him as a hot young director on the rise. But he sees in some of his previous work a noisy tendency toward idea overload.

The pivot point came in 2018, with a season that the Jamie Lloyd Company — which he formed seven years ago with the commercial producing powerhouse Ambassador Theater Group — devoted to the short works of Harold Pinter. The playwright’s distillation of language forced Lloyd to match it with his staging.

That immersion led to what the director Michael Grandage — one of Lloyd’s early champions, who tapped him at 27 to be his associate director at the Donmar Warehouse — called Lloyd’s “absolute masterpiece.”

“I had quite a lot of ambition to do a production of ‘Betrayal’ in my life,” Grandage said. “And then when I saw Jamie’s, I thought, ‘Right, that’s it. I don’t ever, ever want to direct this play.’ Because that’s, for me, the perfect production.”

Playing dress-up

Charm is a ready currency in the theater, but Lloyd’s is disarming; he seems simply to be being himself, without veneer. Like when I fact-checked something I’d read by asking whether he was a vegan.

“Lapsed vegan,” he confessed immediately, with a tinge of guilt about eating eggs again.

Pay no attention to any tough-guy vibe in photos of him; do not be alarmed by the sharp-toothed cat on the back of his head. In conversation, Lloyd comes across as thoughtful and unassuming, with an animated humor that makes him fun company. If he speaks at the speed of someone with no time to waste, he balances that with focused attentiveness.

His father, Ray, was a truck driver. His mother, Joy (whose name is tattooed on his right forearm, near the elbow), cleaned houses, took in ironing and ran a costume-rental shop, where young Jamie would sneak in to dress up as the children’s cartoon character Rainbow Brite.

“It’s very embarrassing,” he said, squelching a laugh.

Seeing professional theater wasn’t an option then for Lloyd, whose grown-up passion for expanding audience access — one of the things he has made himself known for in the West End — grew out of that exclusion. His company has set aside 15,000 free and 15,000 £15 tickets for its current, characteristically starry three-show season, which will also include Emilia Clarke in “The Seagull” and Jessica Chastain in “A Doll’s House.” At the 786-seat Playhouse, that adds up to just over 38 full houses.

Lloyd, who was studying acting at the Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts when he decided he wanted to direct, found his way to theater as a child by acting in school shows and local amateur productions. Twice he was cast as a monkey; in “The Wizard of Oz,” thrillingly, he got to fly.

The details of his early days have always been colorful — like having a clown as his first stepfather, who performed at children’s parties under the stage name Uncle Funny. But Lloyd is quick to acknowledge the darkness lurking there.

“It sounds a little bit like some dodgy film, because he was actually a really violent man,” he said. “And there were times where he was very physically abusive to my mum. There was a sort of atmosphere of violence in that house that was really uneasy. And yet masked with this literal makeup, but also this sense of trying to entertain people whilst enacting terrible brutality behind the scenes.”

This is where he locates his own connection to Pinter’s work.

“A lot of that is that the violence is beneath the surface,” he said. “And on the top there is this sort of, what I call a kind of topspin, a layer of cover-up.”

Long relationships

Lloyd was still at drama school when he staged a production of Lapine and William Finn’s “Falsettoland” that won a prize: assistant directing a show at the Bush Theater in London. Based on that, Trevor Nunn hired him, at 22, to be his assistant director on “Anything Goes” in the West End — a job he did so well that Grandage got word of it and hired him to assist on “Guys and Dolls.” While Lloyd was doing that, he also began directing in his own right.

The costume and set designer Soutra Gilmour, who has been a constant with Lloyd since he cold-called her for his first professional production, Pinter’s “The Caretaker,” said theirs is an easy relationship, with a “symbiotic transference of ideas.” Even their creative aesthetics have evolved in sync.

“We’ve actually never fallen out in 13 years,” she said over mint tea on a trip to New York last month, just before “Betrayal” closed. “Never! I don’t even know how we would fall out.”

Of course, the one time she tried to decline a Lloyd project five years ago, because its tech rehearsals coincided with the due date for her son’s birth, he told her there was no one else he wanted to work with. So she did the show, warning that at some point she would have to leave. Now, she says, he understands that she won’t sit through endless evening previews, because she needs to go home to her child.

Lloyd and his wife, the actress Suzie Toase (whose name is tattooed on one of his arms), home-school their own three boys (whose names are tattooed on the other). Their eldest, 13-year-old Lewin, is an actor who recently played one of the principal characters, the heroine’s irresistible best friend, on the HBO and BBC One series “His Dark Materials,” whose cast boasts McAvoy as well.

Enter the child

Lloyd’s interpretation of “Betrayal,” a 1978 play that recounts a seven-year affair, imbued it with a distinctly non-’70s awareness of the fragility of family — the notion that children are the bystanders harmed when a marriage is tossed away.

Its gasp-inducing moment came with the entrance of a character Pinter wrote to be mentioned but not seen: the small daughter of the couple whose relationship is imperiled. In putting her onstage, Lloyd didn’t touch the text; it was a simple, wordless role. With it, he altered the resonance of the play.

To me, it seemed logical that Lloyd’s production would have been informed by his experience as a husband and father — and maybe also as a child in a splintering family. How old had he been, anyway, when his parents split up?

“Five,” Lloyd said. “The same age as the character would be.” He paused. “Oh God, yeah, fascinating. I’d not thought about that. Exactly the same age.”

If that fact was of more than intellectual interest to him, he didn’t let on. He volunteered a memory, though — of being a little one “amongst these kind of big giants, and I guess what we can now see as the mess of their lives.”

Blazer-free

Doing “Betrayal” in New York, Lloyd was struck by how eager Americans were to chat about his tattoos. Still, he told me after I texted him a follow-up question about them, he hadn’t expected his appearance to be such a talking point in this story.

It’s not just idle curiosity. It’s about what the tattoos signify in a field where, in Britain as in the United States, the top directors tend to have grown up very comfortably. It’s about who is welcome in a particular space, and who gets to be themselves there.

For a long time after Lloyd started working in the theater, he wore a blazer every day: a conscious attempt to conform in an industry where he felt a nagging sense of difference.

“Every other director at the time was from an Oxbridge background,” he said, “and looked and sounded a particular way. I spent a long time pretending to be like them.”

It was a performance of sorts, with a costume he donned for the role.

It was only about seven or eight years ago — around the time he left the Donmar and started putting together his own company — that he stopped worrying about what people might think if he looked the way he wanted.

“My dad had tattoos” was the first thing he said when I asked him about his own.

“I guess it’s partly getting older,” he mused, “but it’s just sort of going, ‘You can’t pretend to be someone. You’ve got to be who you really are, in every way.’”

The tattoos that have gradually transformed him are from a different aesthetic universe than his recent work onstage. Yet the impulse, somehow, is the same.

In shedding the blazer, in inking his skin, Lloyd has peeled back layers of imposed convention to show who’s underneath.

And should you spot him at the theater, where he is hard to miss, you’ll notice that he looks just like himself.

[cum-a-calla]

Prompt for 2017 pennywise in the rain? Pretty please?

(the prompt sort of took me on an adventure, thank you, thank you so much darlin.)

In the steady downpour, the midway is a treat. There are barely lines, and most of them are for the thrill rides, the rollercoasters. In the interesting little booths, with sly people wearing sly smiles as you walk past, you feel the most excitement. The air is thick with grease and sweet, damp straw, cotton candy and cigarette smoke. It filters through the rain and makes you dizzy, a scent transcending time. 

It's a carnival, and a big one. Tents are set up beyond the games and stands, showcasing all manner of treats and salves and costume jewelry, toys and curio. A woman goes by on a unicycle, baton in hand, and winks at you as you pass. A few men on horseback smile, having seen the exchange, and tip their hats at you as a gesture of luck, should you pursue. The nip of the breeze gives you an excuse for the flush on your cheeks, up your throat.

"Flowers for you, pretty thing."

Before there's a face to the voice, there are long, graceful fingers wrapped around a small assortment of wildflowers. The man holding them to you is long, towering over you with a polite smile. He has eyes bright as the summer sky, clear but for the barest glint of mischief. Full lips perk into a smile and he runs a hand through soaked, dark hair, glossy in the rainwater.

"Thank you!"

"Would you mind?" He steps back and, in a flourish, a small deck of cards is produced from his sleeve, spilling into the cage of his fingers smooth as silk. He shuffles them a few times, taps the top of the deck with his knuckle. 

You pull the top card and laugh at his wild-eyed expression at the reveal, his showmanship charming, disarming. 

"The fool," he intones with a wink. "You make us all fools with a face like that, tiny thing, now, don't you?"

The rain pours over the both of you and soaks his thin shirt, beads over his knuckles and drips off the tip of his nose. His bottom lip catches between his teeth, just for a moment, and they're sharp. 

"I... thank you," you breathe.

"Could eat you right up," he continues, voice wavering a little as he steps even closer. The midway is quiet. The bustling sounds around you seem distant, they seem gone, as if every carnival-goer and every employee has hushed into silence for the two of you. "I could. I could swallow you, and I bet... oh, I bet you taste as good as you look."

The rain tracks over his face, and it... drips. The color melts away, stains into the dirty white of his shirt. He wipes at his forehead and underneath, the skin cracks and pales. The flowers in your hand are brittle, dried and long past dead. They crumble as your fingers shake. 

"You're makin' me a fool," he giggles. That giggle drags on, deep, resonating in your ribcage as it bubbles up his throat. “Can I taste you? Will you let an old fool taste you?”

No.

“Yes, please.” The words come and so do his hands, huge on your hips. They pull you into a tent, a huge, empty tent that seems bigger on the inside than it really is from the outside. In the center, there’s a stage. It’s scuffed and stained, red so ingrained into the surface that it makes you afraid, unease pulsing through your head until it’s hard to hear past the blood rushing in your ears.

His ruined face grins up at you with cannibal teeth, with tufts of his slick, dark hair bursting orange. He barely looks human. His eyes roll back and they’re red, they’re glassy and bleeding and while you stare into those sunbursts of delicate veins and capillaries, he rips your jeans down your hips. He doesn’t bother with the button, opting instead to yank like an animal until they’re flung across the floor.

Empty risers stare down at you, seats without bodies, no audience but the firm tap of rain hitting the circus tent, and this man, this thing, spreads your legs open on the edge of the stage.

“Soft. Always so soft, pink and plush and wet.” He stares so intently at you that you have to look away, stare up at the makeshift ceiling. He kisses you at the apex of your cunt, open-mouthed, so tenderly that it steals a moan from your throat. He hums and laughs so low that you can feel it inside of your body more than you can hear it.

A soft kiss turns into more, and the sounds his tongue make as he laps at your cunt are obscene. It fills the entire stand, makes you squirm against his grip, but he is immovable. He’s ravenous. He eats your pussy and moans as though he’s never had the pleasure, like he can’t get enough of the taste of your flesh, and for a delirious moment in the throbbing fog of your mind, you wonder if he might not eat you whole after all. Unhinge his jaws, that ruined face splitting down the sides of his generous cheekbones, lips stretched thin and taut and ripping apart to allow him to yank you into the tight confines of his throat. The sensation crawls up your legs and thighs as though your thoughts bleed into the atmosphere, the feeling of slippery, clenching muscle taking you deeper and deeper and deeper –

Back to whatever layer of reality your current situation is, the clown’s teeth elongate, brushing the tender little folds of flesh. It’s not wholly unwelcome; the little nips, the little hint of sting and sharpness is a welcome rush of adrenaline to match your morbid fantasy of being half-swallowed by It. It.

Release comes swiftly, a knot that comes undone with such violence that you have to bite the fleshy pad of your thumb to silence yourself. Long fingers pump into your cunt, spurred by your bucking and writhing and whimpering, your teeth digging into your own flesh until you can feel tendon straining underneath the skin. The clown laughs breathlessly as he works at you, tongue and lips and fingertips, buried between your thighs, and all you can do is knot your fingers into the coarse orange hair that has no trace of brown, rooted in flesh that isn’t a real color. It’s beyond white, it’s a bright void in which the shade just won’t settle in your vision. Nonflesh.

Lying back on the stage, you watch him rise at the edge of your field of vision. He wipes his mouth and you’re too afraid to look. What if he’s still melting, your cum shining on his chin along with his own skin, his blood and tears and sweat, what if those ragged gashes are still decorating what’s left of his face? What if he’s ghoulish and rotten?

He leans over to offer his hand, crisp white and cleanly gloved.

Brown hair, full lips, a scar on his cheek so light it may be imagined. His cheeks are flushed underneath bright blue eyes, only a hint of the form you saw before. He smirks and winks as he pulls you up, helping you to grab your pants and turning politely away so you can redress.

He escorts you to a flap in the tent with his hand on the low of your back, towering over you, and before you can wander away, he takes your shoulder. His grip is iron, and then… it isn’t. He’s soft, sweet, handsome. Underneath, something screams at you to leave, that you got lucky, that he may not keep a mind to let you go so easy.

“Hey,” he whispers, opening your palm as if to read it. With his other hand, he reaches behind your head and snaps his fingers. The sound is like a gunshot, and the way you jump makes him laugh. From behind your hair, he pulls around a white ribbon with a bright red balloon at the end. He presses the ribbon into your palm and closes your fingers around it. When he winks at you again, one of his eyes strays, pulsing that horrible gold-orange, and you take a few steps back. “Come on back to the circus, now, you hear?”

“’Scuse me?" Somebody behind you startles you again, yanking your attention away from the balloon and the man so you're circling around to face somebody new. "Hey – hey, you’re not allowed to be around here, we’re closing up. How’d we miss ya back here?”

A man in a cheap uniform approaches you, looking a little confused, umbrella in hand.

“Oh… oh, I must’ve… lost track of time. The clown, and all,” you mutter, waving your hand behind you. “Got a little turned around, he took me into the tent for a… a magic trick.”

“Yeah, don’t know about that. No clowns for years; it’s bad for business. Nobody likes clowns much these days. This tent’s under construction, it’s a hazard – see the signs? The tape? You best follow me outta here, it's not safe back here."

It’s almost tempting to take his words at face value and blindly follow him as he turns around to guide you, speaking into a walkie and waving across the fields at a couple other employees doing the rounds. Almost.

Behind you, the tent is damaged. Tape surrounds the perimeter and closes off the entrances, huge, gaping holes in the top causing much of the structure to collapse and leak and mold. 

The man – the clown – is gone.

[infini-tree]

Gosh you're right I shouldn't have made it so broad. Anyway top 5 comedy moments in kung fu panda :D so you can do another category!!

Wait I can’t see the ask and idk if it just said kung fu panda but I meant all three movies lol

ask me unconventional/random “TOP 3/5/10″ end beginning “i’ve put this off for so long that it’s the end again” of the year lists!

ok now this is difficult since. it fluctuates, so im putting this at no particular order

honorable mentions

that bit where shifu just. airbends? the candles off after oogway was taking so long to individually blow them out. very good way to introduce their dynamic, esp shifu’s character of being the the “least zen zen master” lmao

“i hope this plan is better than the one where you tried to cook rice by eating it raw and drinking boiling water”. like. po. my dude. why would you do this to yourself

the bit where kai fakes po out by pretending that the wuxi finger hold is killing him. as much as i rag on kfp3, that did make me Laugh

ok i know this isn’t in the movies, but that bit in secrets of the masters where oogway is just like “it’s so nice you’ve managed to use the most respected art form in china to pursue nothing but fame”. like damn, oogway can be SALTY when he wants to and the delivery kills me every time

ok now we’re doing this for real. this is definitely less wordy than the “top 5 action scenes of kfp” list i did, bc i feel like these speak for themselves. again this is in no particular order

soothsayer and shen’s interactions in the tower. this feels like a routine for them at this point, and even if the soothsayer is in a high tension situation she KNOWS that shen’s army can’t do anything against her. also “being right makes me right” is a Good Line

po: don’t worry we’ll free you from these bars of injustice!tigress: punches the iron bars openpo: oh great you found the keys!

the. dragon costume pac man sequence? idk if that counts as funney, but it sure as heck makes my heart do a dance

“panda, we do not wash our pits in the pool of sacred tears.”

oogway and kai’s whole pre battle banter at the start of kfp3. kai REALLY is a dramatic son of a binch and  NO ONE wants to play with him in that space. also oogway’s little “took you long enough! haha!” is just. so out of left field in a pre-knowing about his warlord past world that it’s the audiovisual equivalent of being sprayed in the face by a flower on a clown’s lapel

[living-dead-parker]

Spooky - P.P

Summary: Peter and Y/N are everyone’s worst nightmare around Halloween

Warnings: cussing. shocking image (idk man, just a pic of some mentioned prop that is meant to look scary), ooc Steve Rogers, probably some mistakes as usual

Word Count: 1.5k

"Y/N why have you been looking up projectors by using Friday?" Tony asks as he walks into the common room. His tone is curious and firm, questioning the younger woman's intentions.

"Spooky season cometh, I need to prepare." she responds, concentrating on nothing. Her words come out hopeless, which concern Tony. He knows this girl plays around too much, so realistically he shouldn't really question it, but nowadays he worries to much. So, questioning her is now in his nature, unfortunately.

"Prepare for what?" Tony asks. His brows furrow as he focuses on the girl. Wide eyed, she turns to Tony, looking at him.

"For the skeleton war." Peter responds as he steps in the room. Tony looks up at Peter quizzically, but as it hits him, he rolls his eyes and stands up. Walking away, he quietly rants about 'these damn children' and their 'stupid antics'.

It's September, Halloween is now around the corner. Peter and Y/N enjoy the holiday the most out of everyone. Halloween had always been such a fun holiday for them; watching scary movies that left them awake for days, binging  on candy, visiting haunted houses, and occasionally dressing up to go trick-or-treating. What made Halloween even more interesting was the Avengers. How terribly they'd react to animatronic props or getting tangled in fake cotton spider webs.

The two teens had a policy when it comes to costumes. They'll never dress up as their superhero persona, for fear that they'll accidentally out themselves. However, that hasn't stopped them from dressing up as each other. Y/N had once worn Peter's Iron Spider suit, feeling excited when she could swing around using his webs. She accidentally turned on Instant Kill which made Peter decide that they should probably never do that again. Peter had worn Y/N's iron suit, disguised as Pink Electra for that day. Everyone walked up to them, surprised at the 'almost authentic' look of the suits.

This year, Y/N and Peter have took it upon themselves that they were too grown to go trick or treating this year. They're 18 now, adults. Basically grandparents at this point. So, they have invited Ned, Shuri, Harley, and MJ to come to the Avenger's compound for a night of spooks and scares. And pranks. Mostly pranks. They begun to pick out the things that scared the Avengers the most. That's why Y/N is on the Party City website, searching for all things clowns, killers, zombies, and babies.

"Hey, Mr. Stark, you think you can let me have 500 dollars?" Y/N asks, walking into his lab. Peter trails behind the girl, not questioning her request.

"Why?" Tony asks, not looking up from the suit he's currently working on. He messes with a screw, pulling it out and moving some wires.

"I need it to pay for my child support. My ex wife hired the price." Y/N responds, urgency in her voice. Tony deadpans at the younger girl. Peter looks like he's about to lose his shit, but he's holding on to his laughter.

"Child, what the actual fuck is wrong with you kids? Why can't you be normal?" Tony asks.

"Mr. Stark, please. We can't afford the demands, I'm gonna have to start showing leg in the streets. The cold dark streets. You know what they do to twinks like me in the streets?" Peter cries out. Tony's eyes go wide at his sudden outburst, Y/N taking her turn at holding in her laughter.

"Alright, Parker. Tone it down a bit, sweets." Y/N says. Peter nods, giggling a little.

"Are you guys okay? Did the nurses drop you two when you guys were born?" Tony asks.

"I'm pretty sure, I was there when it happened." Y/N responds.

"Yeah, I was there. I was the baby." Peter adds. Tony sighs, pulling his phone out from his pocket. He scrolls a bit, typing some and then locking his phone again. Their phones ding as Tony speaks up again.

"I transferred you 500 each, please get out and don't talk to me for the rest of the day unless you talk like normal people." Tony whines. The two teens nod, walking away and giggling as they exit the lab.

Y/N leads the way down the hall and into the common room. Taking a seat on the couch, Y/N tosses the control to Peter so he could put on a movie on Netlfix. Peter scrolls aimlessly as Y/N opens up her computer, scrolling through the Party City website. Peter settles for one of the new Halloween movies. He takes a seat next to you, resting his head on your shoulder. Y/N points at one of the decorative props.

"She's cute, I want it." Y/N says. She points at a baby zombie doll with big eyes that light up, fake blood dripping down the eyes, dressed in a black dress and black veil.

"Our little baby, Tamanthamum. Bring her home." Peter says. His voice laced with excitement.

"Peter, are we really ready for this? A baby is a huge responsibility. We have to love her, even if she plots against us and tries to kill us." Y/N says, looking back at the picture of the baby. Peter smiles at Y/N, eagerly nodding his head.

"We've always wanted death. I think we're ready." Peter says. Y/N clicks the link on the doll, clicking the 'add to cart' option and going back to shopping. They scroll for a while longer until something catches both of their eyes.

With wide eyes, Y/N clicks the link that takes them to the appropriate page. Looking at each other, they nod. Peter clicks the 'add to cart' button and with that and a few other items, they check out. The total coming out to 450 dollars. Y/N uses her card to pay and they both squeal in a giddy excitement.

A month passes and Halloween is now in 5 days. Their final prop, the one they were most excited for arrives. Peter and Y/N managed to keep it a secret by sending it to Ned's house instead of the Avenger's compound. Peter and Y/N went to go pick it up that same day, carrying the giant heavy box into the compound and into the elevator. As you reach the top floor where all the rooms are, you and Peter are quick to get to Peter's room.

"Alright, let's get him behind Steve's door and see if he notices." you say. Opening the door, you look around before leading the way to Steve's room, five doors down the left. You grab the other end of the box and sneak into Steve's room. Quickly closing the door, Peter sets the box down.

Y/N pulls out a knife and opens the flaps of the box, revealing the tall prop. Peter plugs it in and steps back, admiring the prop.

"Karen, inform Friday to record Cap's room." Peter says as the two teens walk out.

It takes all day to get Steve into his room. But after Y/N successfully spilled some juice on him 'by accident' they finally get him to go to his room. Friday starts recording as the two teens get everybody to the common room in time. They watch as Friday displays the live feed on the main TV in the common room. Tony eyes the two teens as they begin to snicker as Steve reaches the door to his bedroom. As he walks in, the camera switches to the one in his room. As soon as the door closes, Steve lets out a terrified shrill of fear as his eyes lay upon the moving slasher prop.

"Something tells me you two had something to do with this." Tony says as he eyes the two laughing teens. Steve storms out into the common room. He glares at the two teens, crying of laughter on the floor.

"A six foot Michael Myers prop? I shoul-"

"You shouldn't do anything. Walk away and cool it Cap." Tony steps in defending the two teens from the angry Steve. He knows that he won't do anything to them, but he still has this need inside of him to care for and protect the two. No matter how annoying they can be, he would kill and he would die for them. His love ran deep.

"Those two are nothing but trouble!" Steve says, feeling angry. Bucky chuckles, resting a hand on Steve's arm.

"Calm down, Steven. They're just being kids, playing pranks. I'm sure they'd laugh it off you did the same. Go get changed, they'll take out the stupid thing." Bucky assures Steve. He nods, glaring at the two smirking teens.

"You two, need to stop. I will make sure you two don't make it out next time!" Tony jokingly commands. Their eyes widen as they shake their heads.

"You can't do that! You wouldn't do that to baby Tamathamum!" Peter whines. Everyone eyes the two teens curiously.

"Baby what?" Clint asks. Y/N rolls her eyes and walks off to the book shelf where the doll sits. Everyone's brows furrow as Y/N stands next to Peter, baby doll in her hands. Peter wraps an arm around the girl's shoulders, holding her close as they proudly smile.

"This is our baby, Tamanthamum. Peter gave birth to her last month." Y/N explains.

"So, I gave you guys 500 dollars so you can piss of Steve with a six foot Michael Myers prop and...now I have a grand daughter?" Tony asks, pissing Steve off more by joining on the joke.

"She has your eyes, Mr. Stark." Y/N says. Tony smiles, joining the two teens in a 'family' hug.

"Oh for Christ's sake. You three are the worst."

[smokeybrandreviews]

Cheeseburgers

The Infinity Saga is over. The MCU is moving forward into uncharted waters. Disney+ has pushed back certain shows and moved up WandaVision. Black Widow finally has a well deserved movie, postmortem. The future is wide open but, before we get on a brand new pain train, i wanted to take a look back and talk about some of my favorite movies from the first eleven years of the MCU.

Avengers: Infinity War

This movie, man, is probably peak MCU. There are better films in the series but you’ll be hard-pressed to find a film that walks the line of comic book and cinema to deftly. This is the penultimate tale for that first decade and what a f*cking climax it was. Holy sh*t! There was just so much good in this film, from character development to visual flair to legitimate stakes. I’m a massive Marvel fan and i am well aware of the Infinite Gauntlet saga in the comics but seeing this sh*t? Seeing Thanos actually Snap? I never though in a million years that would happen onscreen. And then it did. It was at that point i absolutely knew the MCU was about that life. I knew to expect the unexpected because , with the wealth of the Marvel universe to draw from, they were going to craft some motherf*ckers of stories.

Like, I f*cking cried when Pete got dusted. I shed legitimate tears and I’m not even embarrassed to say it out loud. For a film to move me like that? and it’s not Forrest Gump? Motherf*cker had to be on point, for sure. The entire theater was silent as those strings hummed and Thanos sat on his farm, smiling contently. I had never experienced that before The entire auditorium - completely silent. We were in disbelief. We were in mourning. I saw Infinity War in theaters four times and literally every time, the same thing happened. In two hours and some change, Marvel had gave a theater full of people straight emotional trauma. Your movie has to be absolutely on point for that to occur.

Speaking of Thanos, yo, how was this big ass purple grimace looking motherf*cker one of the best antagonists of film, period? How was this cat written so well? I lost my sh*t when they teased him at the end of Avengers and that little bit we got of him in Guardians was cool but i was not prepared for how goddamn formidable he turned out to be. Josh Brolin brought this character to life but the writing gave me real agency. I was flabbergasted by how great this character turned out to be. Thanos felt real. He felt flawed. He felt legitimate. Id have to put him up there with The Dark Knight Joker and Hans Landa as one of the best antagonists ever.

Spider-Man: Homecoming

I adore Spider-Man. Ive written at length about that love. He’s the reason i even picked up that Marvel comic all those years ago. I’ve seen every cinematic iteration of Webhead and i mst say, this portrayal is the truest to the source material i have ever seen. Cats get on the MCU about making him Tony Stark jr. but most people don’t understand that’s where he was going anyway. Most people don’t know that, in the comics, he’s basically Reed Richards jr. and since the MCU has no Reed, Tony is a pretty smart substitute. But that argument is inconsequential because the core of who Spider-Man is, the actual spirit of the character, has been captured so perfectly by this version of Pete, it’s borderline miraculous. I love Tobey McGuire’s take in Pete because he was the first to do it. Kind of like how i have such nostalgia for the 89 Batman. That version of Spider-Man felt like the old Lee/Ditko version from the 60s. Andrew Garfield was adequate. He didn’t get a fair shake though, mostly barbecue the writing in his run was so goddamn terrible. But this new kid? This casting was as perfect as RDJ was to Iron Man.

Tom Holland kills it as Spider-Man. His version of the character feels right. It feels modern. It feels like Ultimate Pete but grounded in the spirit of the 90s cartoon version. He’s this massive geek, this kid really, granted power in tragedy and it feels so goddamn authentic, i couldn’t believe it. The second he showed u in Civil War, i absolutely knew Underoos was about to be a star in these films and that is saying a lot considering how loaded this cast has become. Homecoming was the first film we got to see Pete stretch his legs and it was f*cking brilliant. Everything about this movie is what a great Spider-Flick should be and the MCU nailed it! if i never got another Spidey appearance, this movie was more than enough to sate my appetite. Homecoming is my second favorite MCU movie. I loved every second of it!

Also, how about that Aunt May stinger, though?

Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Look, i love the Dark Knight. For me, that is the pinnacle of a capeflick. That movie was a great crime thriller first, a Batflick second. Nolan approached it with a grounded sense of reality that left you, as an audience, breathless. It is one of the best films i have ever seen in my entire life and Ledger gave one of the most brilliant performances ever captured on celluloid. There is nothing as good as that film in the MCU. The Winter Soldier comes f*cking close, though. This movie made me sit up and realize that the MCU had some teeth. Until this thing came out, i thought we were going to get a bunch of flamboyant costumes and snarky Wedonisms. I wasn’t mad, mind you, Avengers was dope, but Winter Soldier took all that campy bullsh*t out back and murdered it. This movie was the MCU growing up and almost everything afterward has been brilliant. The Winter Soldier forced everyone to step their game up with how goddamn brilliant it turned out to be. I can’t say there were any performances as great as Ledger’s Joker but i can make the argument the overall writing was better than The Dark Knight, and that is stupid high praise.

Guardians of the Galaxy

This film has no right to be as good as it is. I went into this thing on a whim, mostly because I thought it was going ti be filler like Ant-Man or something, and then it wasn’t. It was great. Legitimately great. I had no idea the MCU could take a C-rate team like the goddamn Guardians and uplift them so beautifully. James Gunn took those characters and wrote the best Star Wars film since f*cking Empire and I didn’t think that was possible, not with this wayward branch of Marvel History. Seriously, if you do even a minuscule amount of research on who the Guardians are, they’re a joke. I mean, they have a f*cking talking Raccoon on the team! Gunn had the wherewithal to lean into that and he produced one of the best in the entire MCU. He took these loser clowns and injected so much emotion  and humanity into them, you couldn’t help but love their rag-tag asses. This was the first MCU movie to move me to tears. That stuff about Quills mom? I felt that. Both times. On an extremely personal level. I was the young Quill. I watched my grandma, the only person who i believe loved me unconditionally up to that point, die just like Quill’s mom; Cancer and everything. I was about his age when it happened, too. That sh*t f*cked me up. To this day, i have nightmares about it. Seeing that sh*t so accurately captured in a capeflick was the most for me and I legit had to leave the theater until the first part of the movie passed. To this day, i can’t watch that scene. I can just barely make it through the Dance of to Save Th Universe, but that opening gambit? No way. It hits way too close to home for me. Still, for a comic book movie to solicit such a response? It has to be special and Guardians is one of the best.

Iron Man

Boy, we’ve come a long way since Tony Stark uttered those fateful word, “I am Iron Man.” But none of these other films would even have the opportunity to exist if he hadn't said them. Iron Man had the tall order of being the first, proper, MCU film AND compete with The Dark Knight. N one thought a film about B-List superhero, narcissistic billionaire, and straight up lush, Tony Stark, would amount to anything. How wrong everyone turned out to be. I knew, from that second i saw the teaser and concept art by Adi Granov, that Marvel was taking this sh*t crazy serious. Then there’s the casting of Robert Downey Jr. That sh*t was a boon, for real. The entire cast of this first film was impeccable but RDJ makes this movie. He IS Tony Stark. Even before he got comfortable with the character like in the later films, fresh out the box with the scripts, you can tell he knows how to bring this tinkerer to life. You had to nail that aspect in order to have any chance to  build something great and Marvel hit a goddamn bullseyes, for sure. Revisiting this flick, Iron Man isn’t as good as the later films in the Infinity Saga but it still holds up against the vast majority of entries and that’s saying something.

I love these films, man. As a geek growing up reading these stories, reenacting them with their action figures, sitting glued to the television every Saturday as their cartoons aired, I never imagined id see such a berth of fantastic media brought to life on the silver screen. Seriously, some of my favorite interpretations of these characters appear exclusive in the MCU. War Machine, Thor until recently, Ant-Man, f*cking Hulk? i never gave these assholes the time of day in the comics but in the MCU? They’re fantastic! And it has everything to do with how well written they are in-universe. There are over twenty films in this run an i love all of them to varying extents. Spider-Man: Far From Home, Black Panther, Captain America: Civil War, Avengers: Endgame, Thor: Ragnarok, and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 all could have made this list. For sure, they’re 6 - 11 or whatever, but that speaks to the sheer depth of the MCU. I’m not even counting flicks i would consider B-tier like Captain Marvel or Avengers or Iron Man 3 or Doctor Strange; All of which are still dope in their own right.

There is just SO much great in these films and i can’t wait to see where we go next. With Disney acquiring Fox, Marvel finally has the full toy box to play with and i am absolutely a tizzy with the potential arcs they can adapt. Secret Wars? Annihilation? Age of Apocalypse? Avengers Disassembled? Dark Reign? F*cking Onslaught?? I have no idea where we are going but i am, for sure, jumping on this pain train once again.

[smokeybrand]

Cheeseburgers

The Infinity Saga is over. The MCU is moving forward into uncharted waters. Disney+ has pushed back certain shows and moved up WandaVision. Black Widow finally has a well deserved movie, postmortem. The future is wide open but, before we get on a brand new pain train, i wanted to take a look back and talk about some of my favorite movies from the first eleven years of the MCU.

Avengers: Infinity War

This movie, man, is probably peak MCU. There are better films in the series but you’ll be hard-pressed to find a film that walks the line of comic book and cinema to deftly. This is the penultimate tale for that first decade and what a f*cking climax it was. Holy sh*t! There was just so much good in this film, from character development to visual flair to legitimate stakes. I’m a massive Marvel fan and i am well aware of the Infinite Gauntlet saga in the comics but seeing this sh*t? Seeing Thanos actually Snap? I never though in a million years that would happen onscreen. And then it did. It was at that point i absolutely knew the MCU was about that life. I knew to expect the unexpected because , with the wealth of the Marvel universe to draw from, they were going to craft some motherf*ckers of stories.

Like, I f*cking cried when Pete got dusted. I shed legitimate tears and I’m not even embarrassed to say it out loud. For a film to move me like that? and it’s not Forrest Gump? Motherf*cker had to be on point, for sure. The entire theater was silent as those strings hummed and Thanos sat on his farm, smiling contently. I had never experienced that before The entire auditorium - completely silent. We were in disbelief. We were in mourning. I saw Infinity War in theaters four times and literally every time, the same thing happened. In two hours and some change, Marvel had gave a theater full of people straight emotional trauma. Your movie has to be absolutely on point for that to occur.

Speaking of Thanos, yo, how was this big ass purple grimace looking motherf*cker one of the best antagonists of film, period? How was this cat written so well? I lost my sh*t when they teased him at the end of Avengers and that little bit we got of him in Guardians was cool but i was not prepared for how goddamn formidable he turned out to be. Josh Brolin brought this character to life but the writing gave me real agency. I was flabbergasted by how great this character turned out to be. Thanos felt real. He felt flawed. He felt legitimate. Id have to put him up there with The Dark Knight Joker and Hans Landa as one of the best antagonists ever.

Spider-Man: Homecoming

I adore Spider-Man. Ive written at length about that love. He’s the reason i even picked up that Marvel comic all those years ago. I’ve seen every cinematic iteration of Webhead and i mst say, this portrayal is the truest to the source material i have ever seen. Cats get on the MCU about making him Tony Stark jr. but most people don’t understand that’s where he was going anyway. Most people don’t know that, in the comics, he’s basically Reed Richards jr. and since the MCU has no Reed, Tony is a pretty smart substitute. But that argument is inconsequential because the core of who Spider-Man is, the actual spirit of the character, has been captured so perfectly by this version of Pete, it’s borderline miraculous. I love Tobey McGuire’s take in Pete because he was the first to do it. Kind of like how i have such nostalgia for the 89 Batman. That version of Spider-Man felt like the old Lee/Ditko version from the 60s. Andrew Garfield was adequate. He didn’t get a fair shake though, mostly barbecue the writing in his run was so goddamn terrible. But this new kid? This casting was as perfect as RDJ was to Iron Man.

Tom Holland kills it as Spider-Man. His version of the character feels right. It feels modern. It feels like Ultimate Pete but grounded in the spirit of the 90s cartoon version. He’s this massive geek, this kid really, granted power in tragedy and it feels so goddamn authentic, i couldn’t believe it. The second he showed u in Civil War, i absolutely knew Underoos was about to be a star in these films and that is saying a lot considering how loaded this cast has become. Homecoming was the first film we got to see Pete stretch his legs and it was f*cking brilliant. Everything about this movie is what a great Spider-Flick should be and the MCU nailed it! if i never got another Spidey appearance, this movie was more than enough to sate my appetite. Homecoming is my second favorite MCU movie. I loved every second of it!

Also, how about that Aunt May stinger, though?

Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Look, i love the Dark Knight. For me, that is the pinnacle of a capeflick. That movie was a great crime thriller first, a Batflick second. Nolan approached it with a grounded sense of reality that left you, as an audience, breathless. It is one of the best films i have ever seen in my entire life and Ledger gave one of the most brilliant performances ever captured on celluloid. There is nothing as good as that film in the MCU. The Winter Soldier comes f*cking close, though. This movie made me sit up and realize that the MCU had some teeth. Until this thing came out, i thought we were going to get a bunch of flamboyant costumes and snarky Wedonisms. I wasn’t mad, mind you, Avengers was dope, but Winter Soldier took all that campy bullsh*t out back and murdered it. This movie was the MCU growing up and almost everything afterward has been brilliant. The Winter Soldier forced everyone to step their game up with how goddamn brilliant it turned out to be. I can’t say there were any performances as great as Ledger’s Joker but i can make the argument the overall writing was better than The Dark Knight, and that stupid is high praise.

Guardians of the Galaxy

This film has no right to be as good as it is. I went into this thing on a whim, mostly because I thought it was going ti be filler like Ant-Man or something, and then it wasn’t. It was great. Legitimately great. I had no idea the MCU could take a C-rate team like the goddamn Guardians and uplift them so beautifully. James Gunn took those characters and wrote the best Star Wars film since f*cking Empire and I didn’t think that was possible, not with this wayward branch of Marvel History. Seriously, if you do even a minuscule amount of research on who the Guardians are, they’re a joke. I mean, they have a f*cking talking Raccoon on the team! Gunn had the wherewithal to lean into that and he produced one of the best in the entire MCU. He took these loser clowns and injected so much emotion  and humanity into them, you couldn’t help but love their rag-tag asses. This was the first MCU movie to move me to tears. That stuff about Quills mom? I felt that. Both times. On an extremely personal level. I was the young Quill. I watched my grandma, the only person who i believe loved me unconditionally up to that point, die just like Quill’s mom; Cancer and everything. I was about his age when it happened, too. That sh*t f*cked me up. To this day, i have nightmares about it. Seeing that sh*t so accurately captured in a capeflick was the most for me and I legit had to leave the theater until the first part of the movie passed. To this day, i can’t watch that scene. I can just barely make it through the Dance of to Save Th Universe, but that opening gambit? No way. It hits way too close to home for me. Still, for a comic book movie to solicit such a response? It has to be special and Guardians is one of the best.

Iron Man

Boy, we’ve come a long way since Tony Stark uttered those fateful word, “I am Iron Man.” But none of these other films would even have the opportunity to exist if he hadn't said them. Iron Man had the tall order of being the first, proper, MCU film AND compete with The Dark Knight. N one thought a film about B-List superhero, narcissistic billionaire, and straight up lush, Tony Stark, would amount to anything. How wrong everyone turned out to be. I knew, from that second i saw the teaser and concept art by Adi Granov, that Marvel was taking this sh*t crazy serious. Then there’s the casting of Robert Downey Jr. That sh*t was a boon, for real. The entire cast of this first film was impeccable but RDJ makes this movie. He IS Tony Stark. Even before he got comfortable with the character like in the later films, fresh out the box with the scripts, you can tell he knows how to bring this tinkerer to life. You had to nail that aspect in order to have any chance to  build something great and Marvel hit a goddamn bullseyes, for sure. Revisiting this flick, Iron Man isn’t as good as the later films in the Infinity Saga but it still holds up against the vast majority of entries and that’s saying something.

I love these films, man. As a geek growing up reading these stories, reenacting them with their action figures, sitting glued to the television every Saturday as their cartoons aired, I never imagined id see such a berth of fantastic media brought to life on the silver screen. Seriously, some of my favorite interpretations of these characters appear exclusive in the MCU. War Machine, Thor until recently, Ant-Man, f*cking Hulk? i never gave these assholes the time of day in the comics but in the MCU? They’re fantastic! And it has everything to do with how well written they are in-universe. There are over twenty films in this run an i love all of them to varying extents. Spider-Man: Far From Home, Black Panther, Captain America: Civil War, Avengers: Endgame, Thor: Ragnarok, and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 all could have made this list. For sure, they’re 6 - 11 or whatever, but that speaks to the sheer depth of the MCU. I’m not even counting flicks i would consider B-tier like Captain Marvel or Avengers or Iron Man 3 or Doctor Strange; All of which are still dope in their own right.

There is just SO much great in these films and i can’t wait to see where we go next. With Disney acquiring Fox, Marvel finally has the full toy box to play with and i am absolutely a tizzy with the potential arcs they can adapt. Secret Wars? Annihilation? Age of Apocalypse? Avengers Disassembled? Dark Reign? F*cking Onslaught?? I have no idea where we are going but i am, for sure, jumping on this pain train once again.

[reddogf13]

Covenant Ch: 1

summery:  They did it, IT was left to die alone in the tunnels under Derry. months have passed and the losers thrived after what seems to feel like a curse lifting off the town. if only Beverly had not decided to make a last minute deal with IT on its death bed. will her choice to let IT live destroy all that she holds dear?

status: complete

rated: M - fowl language and gore

next chap: Covenant ch:2

____________________________________________

~ch: 1 do we have a deal?~

After all they'd been through. What the clown put them through. They were all on the brink of finishing it. Hit after hit avoiding the chomping, drooling, jaws of IT. The twisted forms it made to desperately scare them back. The losers club had it surrounded in a circle ready to attack as it spat out the ridged iron bar Beverly had shoved down its throat.

It was beaten down ragged. Seemingly have nothing left to throw at the children. They thought IT was finished. IT had to retreat if it wanted to live and must know that, but they were wrong.

IT hissed and wheezed before letting out a deep inhuman growl. ITs body growing in loud cracks with the silver clown costume shredding apart to fall in bits to the floor. The while skin turning to hardened scales. Multiple fiery glowing eyes appearing with twisted otherworldly pupils. Jaws stretching to multiple rows extending out. Stretching itself out to sprout more and more limbs upon its body.

The losers returned to each others side at ITs growing length. Avoiding the possibility of being separated by its long sharp scaled tail ending in a pair of crushing pincers.

IT laughed at the covering losers under its 15ft foot height. 8 fiery glowing eyes staring down into their very souls. Below them was a large grin of jagged teeth layered up inside its long snout. Its red mouth marking remaining along its lips to cross by a pair of its eyes. Hard jagged layered scales circling at its neck resembling the once ruffled lace collar.

“aww, what's wrong?” IT laughed down to the small prey in a deep echoing booming voice. Sounding as if two voices were speaking. a low pitch and a high pitch warping together as one.

Stretching a wide grin of uneven drool dripping teeth.“not having fun anymore?” stepping closer on long slender spider limbs. Followed by the multiple crawling centipede ones tapping at the stone floor. Stopping to let out a snarling wheeze over them all. A wave of its rotten breath hitting them into wincing away for a moment.

One that IT took its chance on. Lunging its wide jaws at them in a deafening roar. Missing all of them leaping out of the way to safety. IT smashing right into a large wall so hard it crack off the concrete. Chunks falling off the broken wall to collect at the floor in piles. IT letting out a groaning growl to shake off the concrete crumbling over it. Turning to face the losers now attempting to beat it down again with no success. ITs new scaled hide being far too tough to be messed by all the losers weapons. They may as well have been ants beating a armored tank with what little harm they caused.

IT lunged toward Bill, who was the closest, with a loud snap of its jaws missing their fleeing target. Hissing out a wheeze toward the reassembling group. ITs once confident gate now struggling to shift itself around. Heavily breathing toward them as if its lungs had popped under all the stress. The powerful movements of its tail turning into an unhelpful weight on struggling legs.

“who's wheezing now clown?!” Eddie shouted from within the losers close group. “Wished you had an inhaler now, don't cha!”

The large otherworldly creature hissing aggressively into a forward step toward them. Limbs shaking to finally collapse entirely onto the stone. The losers all watching it carefully for any possible tricks. IT hissing and growling from its spot. Jaws threateningly agape toward the group caught by mike as hiding something else.

“i think ITs dying.” mike whispered to the group. Bill glancing over his shoulder to him.

“how do you know?” asking without fully taking his eyes off IT.

“we had to hunt coyotes on the farm that were killing sheep. they would act just like this when cornered, desperate, at the end of their rope in traps. Mouth wide open, lots of snapping and noises to try and get us to leave them alone. They couldn't even move when we found them like that. I think ITs used up the last of its energy.” explaining similar situations on their family farm.

“what if it's a trick?” skeptical of the massive creature known for hiding its true self.

Ben spoke up. “what can we do if its not? None of our hits are doing anything. Not even a dent.”

Stanley spoke up next. “i am not staying down here for hours to maybe watch IT die. I definitely won't be coming back once we leave.” fidgeting to fix his ruffled clothes.

“this might do it!” Richie shouted in flinging his bat flying to smack against ITs face. Bouncing off to land not too far off to ITs side. IT letting out a growl and nothing more at the attack. Richie stepping away from the group despite protests. Arms pulled off his shirt with a hop away from the others concerned reach.

The losers watching him slowly approach it. Beverly breaking off soon after to follow right behind him. Walking by under ITs glaring eyes right up to the thrown bat. Richie firmly taking the leather wrapped metal handle into hand.

IT lunging toward them scaring them back a few steps. Stopping at realizing IT was unable to get a full on lunge. More of a quick snap toward the air in front of them. Nowhere near close to actually reaching them. The two calmly walking back to rejoin the group in full confidence mike was right.

“ IT can't do anything.” Beverly announcing to both the losers and IT. Bill nodding to them all that they had reached their goal of finishing it, for the most part.

“so what do we do with IT?” mike looking to bill for an answer.

“like Ben said. N-n-nothing we can do if we can't hurt it now. We leave, wait IT out, till it starves.” speaking the last part louder toward the struggling creature working on just breathing.

“we'll all – most of us will come and c-c-check later to see if its died yet.” speaking to the group. They all gave it one last glare as they walked toward the exit.

IT wheezed in a huge breath to snarl. “where are you all going?! Too afraid to face me?! I'll come back! I'll devour you all! You're all meat ready to be devoured!” IT roared after them from its fallen place. Even far down the tunnels the losers could hear its struggled wheezing for air.

Eddie took a deep breath of air once outside the drainage pipe. “finally, fresh air!” facing with arms raised toward the warm inviting sun.

“you said it.” Stan agreed. Taking up some river water to wash ITs slimy drool off his face.

“whelp, there goes all of our summer! Fuckin here comes school! We should go back and demand that clown to refund our summer!” Richie shouted. Everyone slouching for a moment at the reminder of school. As if they haven't have been through enough stress.

“hopefully I'll still be going to school.” Beverly mumbled.

“why? Are you running away?” Ben asking her bringing the attention of everyone else on her.

“i might have to or else I might be heading to juvenile hall. Before IT grabbed me I got into a fight with my dad. Bashed his head in with the toilet cover. I don't know If he's alive or not.”

“we can help hide you.” bill offered.

“where?! In the haystacks of mike's barn?!” Richie exclaimed. Getting a glare from bill.

“no, I plan to call my aunt who lives in the RV park. I think she'll help.” swallowing nervously at the thought of what she would even say.

“i also gotta get back to my mom. She must be freaking out since I ran off to help. I'll be lucky if there aren't cops at my house.” Eddie panicked. Shuffling out his inhaler for a breath of medication.

“go home and update later?” bill looked to everyone. Getting nods mixed with yes's. Everyone splitting off in their own way home.

The remaining vacation days sped by for them all. After the battle with IT the losers discovered Henry had survived with some massive mental trauma. Being found around the many dead bodies of other children washed out of the sewers. Arrested on the spot to be later put on trial for all the murders IT had done that summer. His case eventually settled on him being mentally unfit. Sent off to be held in a mental hospital for life.

Beverly, after calling her aunt for help, was investigated by police. Opening up a whole different case with CPS at hearing her reasons of defense. Unfortunately, upon investigation of the house her father was missing. The police having no luck in finding his whereabouts either. Setting out a warrant for him to be arrested on sight to be brought in for questioning. After everything was as settled as it could be, Beverly was placed in her aunts care.

Eddie of course was grounded for forever by his mother or until he moved out. Richie helping to bring Eddie news from the outside world. Convincing him now and again to sneak out. Ben, bill, and Stan helping as well by bringing snacks he wasn't allowed. All playing together or walking the long trip over to Beverly's new home. Where she seemed much happier to be.

School had started up again for them all. Freely hanging out with each other now on the grounds. No worries of the bowers gang spotting them. Things were looking much brighter and IT being almost completely forgotten. The traumas they all faced seeming to be healing on their own while days passed.

All except for Beverlys.

Her problems had stayed open wounds, always had been. The boys feared the clown, who was now gone. Her father and those horrible rumors still haunted her. Still being reminded she was the school slut by Greta Keene on a daily basis. The richest girl in Derry who mocked all the losers, because they weren't like her. Kids whose families didn't have a penny to their name. Throwing trash onto Beverly in the bathroom. Being so cruel as to write loser across Eddies cast. Beverly caught her cruel attention the most out of the group. Spreading rumors to every boy she could that Beverly was an easy lay.

The guys trying their best to help her over these rumors, but there was only so much they could do. Further rumors starting up of why she was friends with all the guys. After some kid talked about seeing them all exiting the sewers after that big fight with IT. Greta took her chance to spread a really nasty rumor. Claiming that Beverly had, had an orgy with them all down there. Beverly's problems were all rooted in everyday life, not from the clowns involvement. She overcame IT, but was he really an obstacle for her?

She was never afraid of IT, never afraid to rush in and face IT. To face death itself no matter how painful it could be. Maybe this is why she wanted to build things up instead of tearing them down. To leave something behind and be remembered for something greater than “the town slut.”

for now she held nothing more than a high grade record. Taking it all day by day without much further thought to it.

Until one sunny bright day, on the 18th of September.

walking her way home from school she looked down at a childs chalk drawing of a turtle colored across the sidewalk. The child chalk art stretching up the bridges wood railing as sketches of kelp. Surrounded in brightly colored various fish. Having her gaze lead to the flowing river below. Reminding her of the water drain which then reminded her of IT.

“none of us have checked in for a few months. It has to be dead by now.” thinking as she looked at the running water. some part of her urging her to go check without giving a second thought to the danger she was walking in on alone.

Scaling down the rocky hill from the bridge road. Walking along the rocky river shore under the shade of multiple branches. Stopping at the dark drainage pipe entrance to push aside thick grown over roots of trees. Carefully traversing the dark pipe maze to the center. Approaching out into the large clearing of ITs nest. The massive tower of junk mixed toys having toppled over at some point. Half the hoard scattered far across the stone. The large skylight above, now cleared of the blocking horde, was now gracing the room in a glowing light. Giving a less feeling of gloomy death lingering.

Noticing right away, more importantly, that IT had somehow moved from where it was to halfway be inside its nest. White scaled tail brightly lit under the falling sunlight. Blending past the run down wagons entrance into the darkness concealing the rest of IT. Concern hopping into the back of her mind on what else IT could have accomplished. Brushing it off at remembering how ITs condition was the last time. Being barely able to breath, stand, or move at all. How long exactly could it have taken IT to move over this measly space? A week, a month, or this entire time to get only this far in the nest?

Walking over as quiet as she could in listening for its breathing. Neither hearing or seeing its body move to inhale. Not even a twitch at her approach.

“dead?” thinking at the sight as she cautiously climbed up to the entrance. The back of the wagon pushed down to reveal the inner core of the pile. It was hallow all the way up to the top that now had light pooling in where the fallen half used to cover. Stopping herself from studying the pile she looked back down over the coiling insect body before her.

Tracking it's body to find it's head as quickly as possible. Finding the other half of its body twisting over to slip underneath the rotten wagon down into a hidden hole.

“didn't see this.” peering down into the hole getting just enough light pooling in to see the outlined shape of IT. Mainly scanning where the head of him was resting. The bright red marking of ITs face almost a glowing beacon under light. Coiled up at the bottom on the half of its long body it managed to get down.

Scanning over the wall down she could see the rough wall was going down into an easily climbable slope. Taking a deep breath as she slipped down into the hole. Climbing down to the bottom to look over IT in absolute silence. Not daring to say anything as she did another scan over the still child eater.

Taking a moment of curiosity to study ITs features up close. The light grey skin covered in various splotches of darkening grey. The multiple centipede like legs bearing a dark purple color that could almost count as black. Praying mantis like arms having the same color covered in dark forward facing spikes. One being spread to show itself as a hidden hand over a giant lone claw the other stayed as. Large long antennas on its head bearing an appearance to horns if only they weren't so limp against is head at the moment.

ITs snout having six nostrils resembling heat pits a large snake would have. Eyes were all closed, but a better description would be missing. Unable to see any eyelid seams where the eyes would open. Following the head was its white jagged scales lined in black down to its first pair of legs. That were then followed by 3 more pairs of lengthy spider legs totaling them up to 8. excluding all the smaller centipede legs lining down its body. Counting out a quick 19 from what she could see, possibly being three times that.

Reaching a hand out to touch the unmoving creature. Feeling its smooth scaled body before it lunged up to snap toward her without warning. Startling Beverly back into standing away from IT. watching its eyes appear through opening seams that certainly weren't there before. aiming the glowing gaze of each eye toward her in a wheeze. Clacking its jaws together in some threatening show that it could still bite.

“what are you doing here?!” IT hissed. “come to finish the job? Or to mock me on my deathbed?!” wheezing afterwards.

Beverly thought about not answering at first. “No.” Simply answering the creature. Despite what IT did, She didn't come to kick IT while it was down. Not feeling herself to be so cruel despite knowing IT wouldn't do the same for her.

Bearing its teeth in opening its jaws a little wider showing off that burning orange light seeping from its throat. Beverly looked away from the burning light, even if it was barely enough to glow she could still feel a harsh heat off it. She wasn't taking the risk of being under the dead lights effects a 2nd time.

“then piss off!” hissing aggressively at her. She sighed in ignoring it's aggressive attitude. Looking up from where she came from.

Gazing back down at the whole room like area with a question coming to mind. “Why is this here?”

“... Did you just make this for your grave?” Asking the hissing bug laying not too far.

“No! Not while you keep disturbing me! Got nothing better to do then gawk at me? Go fuck off and choke on a cock!” Snapping at her in more aggressive vulgar language. Not phasing Beverly as she had heard it all. Every insult possible about her being a whore in some way.

Brushing off the insult to think over this area again. “IT wouldn't have enough energy to make this. It must be old, but why build it? Seems unnecessary with all the tunnels to hide in. then there's the, what used to be, huge tower of things.”

“The walls must be very fascinating. Gonna fuck them too?” Hissing at her in a tone building more irritated each time.

“What's this room for?” Outright asking.

“None of your snot nosed business cock sucker!” Roaring at her now as Beverly expressed further interest in the hidden room.

“Hiding something.” Confirming to herself in thought. Walking around in exploring the area making IT even more agitated. Snapping at the air in an empty threat of clacking teeth. Body twitching in trying to move at least a little. Letting out another deep hiss that turned into a weak wheeze for air. Staring Beverly down as she headed toward a particular area.

Approaching the area had her wincing under a rotten stench. Anxious that IT possibly had a hidden stash of rotten food down here she pushed forward. Noticing ITs furthering agitated behavior when she did. Coming up around to a small crevice in the wall where the scent was most strong. Looking inside to see weird looking globs clustered together in light webbing. Reaching to grab one for a closer look had her stopped by IT screeching.

“DON'T TOUCH THEM!” The loud shriek requiring all of the air in ITs lungs. Wheezing deeply following the massive outburst.

Looking from IT back toward the orbs. Only looking at them closer instead of touching. Figuring out from it's reaction that they had to be eggs, but none of them looked well.

Parts of the clutch shriveled up like grapes from what used to be a smooth teardrop shape. from what Beverly guessed by other, more full, leaking eggs. Almost all of them split open in some way to leak a thick green slime. The source of the rotting smell that flowed all down to the floor in a disgusting sticky pool. After accidentally stepping into the slime she winced while moving away. The rotten muck stretched off the bottom of her moving shoe.

“Are they ... all gone?” Asking IT at the sight of them. Doing her best to be somewhat considerate of asking if they were dead.

“All because of you filthy brats!” Wheezing after still not having caught up on air. “You ruined my hunts! I couldn't feed them! I should have finished you all off in that house! Have them feast on your pathetic skins!” Ranting at her with a look of wanting to say a lot more, but didn't have the air to.

It would be a lie for Beverly to say she didn't feel bad. Unintentionally killing all of ITs kids, but then again who knows how they would have turned out. Their hatching leading to the devouring of children spiking to extremes. Spreading to other towns nearby like a plague. Perhaps, like people, they could have also developed their own personalities not based on their … mothers? No way of possibly knowing now.

A twinge of guilt increasing at connecting the fact IT had crawled over to die next to it's already dead brood. Did it all really have to end this way? Could something be changed for the sake of everyone's future?

“I am sorry.” She apologized.

“Sorry?! You little fuckers will be sorry!” Roaring again on what little air it wheezed in.

“ … Yelling won't change anything. ... Do you want help?” Watching it huff over her question.

“ help?! What help are you?! Why bother helping me at all?!” Questioning her as if the offering was a trap. “you can help me by feeding me your limbs!”

“I am tired, i am sure Derry is tired, of all the deaths around here. So, maybe, we can make a deal?” Getting another wheezing huff from IT as if insulted

“Make a deal with you?! Gawh! Little worm! Are you so pea brained?! Make a deal with you? Hah! What a funny joke you’ve made! Why should i?! You don't know whom you speak to! I am an eater of worlds! A living nightmare that will never go away! I will devour you all like the pathetic prey you are! And you assume you are on the same step as me to offer any sort of deal?!” Laughing through a grin of jagged teeth.

“You were desperate enough to try making a deal over bill's life. I ain't the one on death's door laughing about being all powerful while having a wheeze ten times worse than Eddies.” Scoffing back at ITs mightier than thou attitude. Dropping the mighty grin off ITs face to growl through its bared teeth.

“why?” hissing at her. “why make deals? The universe made us to be enemies. It would be moronic of you to spare the one to cause your end.” a confused tone under all its wheezing.

“... a chance to change something for the better?” shrugging her shoulders slightly. “have something go right in Derry for once. Willing to be the one to take a chance. You don't want to die. Take your pick of reasons.” she being not so sure herself on why. Only going off her inner will to make things better somehow.

“Do you want a deal or not? I won't come back for any answer after i leave today.” Tone serious on her threat. ITs many eyes slowly closing to disappear one by one into its head. Not answering her as it contemplated.

“What's the deal?” IT mumbled out, barely understandable. Beverly giving her own pause of contemplation.