#of course people from all backgrounds commit suicide | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

napakmahal · 4 months

Text

I’d never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you

Pairing: Hiro Hamada/reader

Trigger warnings: heavy talks of grief and loss, depression (chat unfortunately Tadashi has died in this one)

“I don’t get why we’re driving two hours away just for therapy.” Hiro was becoming pissed off at his aunt's insistence that he go to therapy at least once a week either in person or on the phone. He liked phone therapy better, the crackling audio made it easier to hide slight twinges in his voice.

“It’s part of your plan, remember? Your doctor said that’s how we get you the best care possible and you agreed to try it, remember?” Cass pressed. Of course Hiro remembered, he remembered how bad it pissed him off. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? He said he was fine, that should have been enough.

In one month Hiro had been passed around to three different therapists of different genders, nationalities, and backgrounds to try and connect with him better. None of them worked and it was becoming increasingly clearer that one-on-one therapy just wasn’t for him. He didn’t talk and when he did he lied. Plus, one-on-one with somebody twenty years older than him who’d forgotten what it was like to be fifteen or said stupid shit like “he’s in a better place now.” wasn’t super helpful.

So enter group therapy. Just a big circle of teens talking about their problems like a pubescent al-anon. Hiro may have been pissed but Cass had a right to be concerned. With him not going to school he had nothing to occupy his time. She’d wake up early to open the cafe and he’d already be up on his phone. And she knew for a fact he wasn’t getting any sleep. He’d sleep all day and eat nothing before being up all night and eating anything that was quiet enough she wouldn’t hear him.

“Just seems kinda pointless.” He sighed and leaned back in the passenger seat. “I’m fine, everyone’s just being so dramatic.”

Cass didn’t respond to that. She just leaned over and grabbed onto her nephew’s hand and kissed his palm. “Did you take your drops today?”

“Mmhm.” Hiro lied.

After the blast an EMT on sight noticed that Hiro’s right ear was bleeding from the pressure while he was taken to the hospital for possible concussion. For weeks after that all he could hear was a persistent ringing but thankfully he hadn’t lost his hearing and the fall had hurt his shoulder blades more than it’d hurt his head. After his brain scan in the hospital his doctor had told him how lucky he was. Hiro swore that if he ever got diagnosed with a stroke, he’d pray he wasn’t his doctor.

They pulled up to another branch of their hospital and parked out front and just in the truck silently.

“Can we go home now?” Hiro spoke up.

Cass let out a breathy laugh and looked over at him. “The program lasts ten weeks, if you make it to five and still want out then okay. Deal?” She held out her hand.

Hiro thought about it for a moment. Five weeks of keeping his mouth shut and letting other people talk about their problems for an hour and a half sounded like a solid enough idea. So he and his aunt shook on it.

Five weeks, just gotta make it five weeks.

They walked into the building with Cass’s arm draped over Hiro’s still healing shoulders. The second they arrived at the receptionists desk a tablet was shoved in their faces. “Sit down, fill out the online questionnaire.”

The questions were always the same:

In the past week I felt mad: sometimes, always, never, often

I worried something bad might happen: sometimes, always, never, often

I felt like I couldn’t do anything right: sometimes, always, never, often

I or people around me participated in substance abuse: I did, my friends and I did, my parents did, none of the above

Have you ever been diagnosed antidepressants: yes or no

Have you made any attempt to commit suicide or thought of commiting suicide within the past week: yes or no

It took Hiro a total of seven minutes to complete the questionnaire without putting any thought into his answers. When it was the ‘parent/guardian’ portion Cass took forever to finish.

When the questionnaire was filled out, a woman in a blue blouse and a key card walked over to them. She asked with sweetness, “Hiro?”

She introduced herself as Dr. Yang and walked Hiro and Cass all the way to her personal office. The walls were covered with older teens graduation photos, kindergarten drawings, and fidget toys on her shelves.

“I know you’re here for group, but because your previous doctors told us that you’ve never done group therapy before I just wanna give you the low down. Is that okay?” Dr. Yang looked at Hiro. He just nodded with a smile. Of course it was okay, he was here wasn’t he? She explained about how some of the kids had been doing groups with her before and how privacy in group settings worked. Hiro was all fine listening to all the foundational stuff until she started getting too personal.

Dr. Yang looked directly at him. “So, Hiro. Can we just talk a little bit about why you’re here? I was informed by one of your previous doctors that your brother just passed away recently. I’m so sorry for your loss, I’m sure it was hard.”

“It’s okay, thanks.” Hiro finally spoke up. It wasn’t okay but it made everyone less uncomfortable if he just said it was okay. “But I guess I’ve just been like- sad for a while.”

“And that’s perfectly alright.”

That was the thing that pissed Hiro off the most. How his therapists would reassure him that it was okay to be sad. No shit it was okay to be sad, somebody died! He knew that and having people say that to him made him feel like he was being treated like an idiot.

The two of them talked for a bit until Dr. Yang sent him out of the office so she could speak with Cass alone. One therapist had invited her into the room to ask her about her perspective and she ended up basically sobbing–which Hiro felt really bad about. It just went to show that she’d been spending a shit-ton of time worrying about him yet nobody was really worried about her.

Hiro walked over to the room his group would be meeting. Waiting for the pre-meeting with Dr. Yang and his aunt to be over when he saw you already sitting there. You looked up towards the door at the sound of footsteps. You two exchanged smiles but didn’t say anything to each other and Hiro took the seat two chairs away from you. It was awkward.

“Are you new?” You asked, trying to break the silence.

Hiro paused as if he was shocked you were talking to him but answered. “Yeah, this is my first group therapy session.”

“Cool, cool.” You nodded.

Awkward silence again.

This time Hiro spoke up first. “I like your shoes.”

“Oh thanks. Yours are cool too.” You pointed to his sneakers. The laces obviously didn’t come with the shoes when he bought them. He must have replaced them but they looked kinda cool. The session didn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes in that room in awkward silence sounded vile. “Do you want a lemonade pop? I know where they keep them.”

“Uhh, sure.” He agreed for the exact same reason you asked. The silence was deafening.

After you snuck your way into the first aid room and grabbed two lemonade pops from the freezer, you two sat down on the stool of one of the larger windows.

“So what are you here for?” You brought the frozen treat up to your lips.

Hiro was still trying to open his when he said, “Because I’m sad.”

“We’re all sad, you’ll fit right in.” You joked. Hiro genuinely let out a small laugh at that which felt nice. “No but pretty much everyone here is chill.”

“How many times have you done this?” He took a small scrape of the pop with his front teeth.

“This will be my second program and my last. I mostly know a lot of the other people here from school.” You shrugged. “Where do you go to school?”

He answered quickly, “I’m not in school right now.”

“Oh.”

Shit. Now you probably think he’s some kind of degenerate high school dropout.

“I just haven’t registered.” He added immediately after.

You licked the side of your pop to keep it from melting onto your clothes. “Did you move?”

“No, not exactly.” Hiro had realized he’d accidentally opened up a can of worms into his personal life for you.

Intrigued, you pressed him for more details. “What happened?”

“I got accepted somewhere, I just need to register.” Perfect, vague yet descriptive.

Damn. He must go to some kind of private school. Why else would he use the word accepted? You joked, “Damn rich people.”

Hiro nearly laughed. Rich? They were relatively low income and only saved thousands of dollars a year on car payments because he could fix their truck for free. Years ago after one of Cass’s friends paid her daughters 20,000 dollar tuition she told both Hiro and Tadashi that she would not be paying for any tuition. She’d pay for books, parking spots, and the occasional on campus meal. But never tuition. Just her luck Tadashi got his fifty-thousand dollar scholarship plus financial aid and Hiro got a full-ride. If he ever planned on using it.

“We aren’t rich, trust me.” He laughed to himself.

“Private school kids are rich to some degree.” You shrugged. Denying their richness is kind of a rich people thing to do.

His eyebrows contorted with confusion as he looked at you. “I didn’t get into a private school.”

“You said you were accepted.” Now it was your turn to be confused.

“Yeah, accepted to college.” He explained slowly.

You stared at him blankly. There was no way. “College? How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Bullshit.” You shot immediately right after. “I don’t believe you. That’s bullshit. You are bullshit.”

A smile tugged further at Hiro’s lips. “I swear I’m not lying. I got accepted to SFIT.”

“Why are you really here? Is it actually because you’re a pathological liar?” You drilled. Graduating early wasn’t super uncommon but graduating early and getting accepted to a prestigious university like SFIT was insanity. “You’re telling me you graduated at fifteen and got accepted to a top school like SFIT?”

“Well I actually graduated at thirteen.”

“You are such a liar!” You reiterated once again. If he graduated at thirteen that must have meant he was nine when he started high school. No fucking way. “Prove it to me.”

“Well my acceptance letter is at home but sure I’ll show it to you.” He finished up his lemonade pop and licked the remaining ice chunk off the stick.

You scoffed. “And give you time to print a fake one out? No, the second you get home send me a picture of it.”

Just like that you exchanged phone numbers. While typing in each other's numbers Hiro realized this was the first time he’d laughed with someone in weeks and it actually felt really nice. But it was overridden by a feeling of guilt. Why did he feel so guilty? He just laughed with someone he found funny. Why did feeling a small bit of true joy after his brother's death make him feel so obnoxious? Almost like he was rubbing it in someone's face. Or like he was doing it to purposely hurt someone.

It’s weird thinking you know loss but then life gives you the finger and proves you wrong. Hiro lost both his parents, that’s plenty of loss for anyone. But he was only three when it happened so what did he really understand about it? Hiro has always been told he’s smart and rightfully so. With an IQ of roughly 210 it’s a correct assumption to make. But if losing his brother has taught him anything, it’s that he knows nothing about shit that really matters.

Hiro really hated the waves. A brochure on grieving a doctor had given him said that the heaviness of grief episodes will wax and wane. In good there will be bad but in bad there will be good. But it will never be the same. Talking with you actually felt like something that wasn’t soul crushing numbness but a wave of guilt and overthinking immediately followed it.

Nothing would ever be the same.

While Hiro was wrestling with such a random wave of heavy feelings you looked up from typing his number into your phone. “Wait, I just realized I don’t know your name.”

He snapped out of his small daze and looked you dead in the eyes. “Hiro,” He gave you a small smile and held out his hand for you to shake. “My name’s Hiro.”

You gracefully smiled back at him and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you Hiro. I’m y/n.”

#baymax #big hero 6 #big hero six #disney #fanfic #hiro hamada #bh6 x reader #napakmahal #tadashi hamada #bh6 the series #bh6 hiro #baymax!#aunt cass #writing #hiro hamada x reader #san fransokyo

47 notes · View notes

sbrown82 · 1 year

Photo

THE FULL HISTORY OF THE MICK JAGGER & MARSHA HUNT (A.K.A. “BROWN SUGAR”) RELATIONSHIP!!! (PART 1)

First, some background on the model, singer, actress, novelist, playwright, activist, icon, 60s goddess, and the woman who inspired one of The Rolling Stones’ greatest hits, “Brown Sugar”, Marsha Hunt. She is often described as London’s own Josephine Baker and is celebrating her 77th birthday today!:

Marsha A. Hunt was born on April 15, 1946 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and is the youngest of 3 children. Her mother, Inez “Ikey” Hunt, worked in an airplane factory during World War II, and her father, Blair Hunt Jr. graduated from Harvard and became one of America's first Black psychiatrists.

Marsha was raised in a middle-class neighborhood mostly by her mother, aunt, and grandmother who had roots in the deep south (Mississippi delta) and who she’s described as an “extremely aggressive and ass-kicking independent woman.” Her father committed suicide when Marsha was 9 years old (but she never found out how or why).

After moving out west to California with her family, she graduated high school at the top of her class and later attended UC, Berkeley in the mid-’60s where she wanted to study psychological anthropology.

While at Berkeley, she became friends with a slew of interesting people like activist Mario Savio and Huey P. Newton, who later became one of the founders of the Black Panther Party.

[TOP LEFT: Marsha’s mother Inez Hunt; TOP RIGHT: Marsha’s father, Blair Hunt Jr.; BOTTOM LEFT: Marsha at her home in Philly with her father & siblings, Pamala & Dennis; BOTTOM RIGHT: Marsha’s high school graduation photo in 1964.]

Even though she thrived academically and was very involved in student activities, she became bored with college life and wanted to experience life outside of the country and pursue her real passion – music. In early 1966, she sold her car and some books, and trailed off to London with only $1.83 in her pocket.

Around that time, London was THE city to be in, and was even dubbed “Swinging London” for being the epicenter of art, culture, fashion and of course music, especially due to the popularity of famous acts like The Beatles and The Rolling Stones.

When Marsha first arrived, she slept on the floors of mutual friends, took odd jobs (including one as an au pair), and even appeared as an extra in Michelangelo Antonioni's box office hit film, “Blow-Up,” which also featured the British rock band, The Yardbirds.

SHOCKINGLY, in that same year she actually saw The Rolling Stones in concert for the first time during their UK tour at the Royal Albert Hall in London because she wanted to see Ike & Tina who were the supporting act on the bill. Girls were going crazy over the Stones, but of course, she was more impressed by Tina’s show-stopping performance! (Purrrrr 💅🏿)

[LEFT: Marsha in 1966; RIGHT: The Rolling Stones performing at the Royal Albert Hall in London with Marsha in attendance.]

After roaming the city, making new friends, and trying to find steady work, Marsha ended up auditioning for a blues band fronted by British blues musician, Alexis Korner, who was looking for backup singers. Coincidentally, he was the exact same guy who gave The Rolling Stones their start back in 1962. Later on, she was offered another backing gig for Long John Baldry’s band, Bluesology. John is also a longtime friend of The Beatles and The Rolling Stones.

Though she loved music and worked really hard at it, Marsha always claimed that she was never a good singer. People in England just assumed she was because they thought all Black Americans had talent.

She then lived with English blues singer, John Mayall, who actually wrote a few songs about her including, “Marsha’s Mood” and another song coincidentally called “Brown Sugar”. Around this time, she became good friends with the founding members of Fleetwood Mac, famed British artist Kaffe Fassett, and keyboard player for Bluesology, Reg Dwight (a.k.a Elton John).

[LEFT: 19 year old Marsha sporting a wig in London; RIGHT: Marsha with a young Elton John].

Around the time Marsha broke things off with John, he was also putting a new band together, which included a young guitarist named Mick Taylor, who showed up at the audition without a guitar. He later became another good friend of Marsha’s.

In late 1966, Marsha met musician Mike Ratledge from the British rock band, Soft Machine. At the time, she was having trouble getting a visa extension to stay in England, so the two got married on her 21st birthday. She later claimed it was a marriage in name only as they were not romantically involved and “never held hands and never kissed".

[LEFT: Guitarist Mick Taylor & John Mayall in the mid-60s; RIGHT: Marsha’s “husband” Mike Ratledge of Soft Machine.]

That same year, Marsha’s hair started to fall out from using chemical relaxers, and after wearing wigs for a while, she finally cut it all off and vowed to never straighten it again. Hence, why she started sporting her iconic afro hairstyle which made her quite a showstopper in London.

In 1968, she found luck when she was cast in a buzzy new rock musical with an ensemble cast called “Hair.” The musical became an instant hit in London’s famed West End. And even though her character “Dionne” only had two lines, she suddenly became the face (or the hair) of “Hair”. The show was a huge success, and also became quite a sensation and a social landmark because it highlighted controversial subjects like drugs, casual sex, profanity, nudity, and anti-war rhetoric. While there, she met another close friend, actor Tim Curry.

[BOTTOM: A poster of the hit musical “Hair” that debuted in the Shaftesbury Theatre in the West End, 1968.]

Her life completely changed overnight and she instantly became a PHENOMENON, attracting wide media attention. In fact, after the musical’s opening night, the editor of British Vogue sent her a huge bouquet of flowers and wanted her to pose for a photo session, which ended up being a 4-page spread with a written profile. Marsha was also the first Black woman to appear on the cover of Queen magazine as well.

[LEFT: Marsha pictured as the first Black woman on the cover of Queen magazine; RIGHT: Marsha photographed for British Vogue in 1969.]

She immediately became a sex symbol, celebrity, and the face of the “Black is Beautiful” movement, which was already taking over America in the mid-60s. This helped her snag lots of modeling gigs and everyone wanted to photograph her. (I mean, sis was booked & busy!!!)

[BOTTOM: More of Marsha’s most iconic shots. *The melanin was melanating, 4C afro was on deck, eyelashes poppin’, lips bussin’...she was a *bad bitch*!!!]

In March 1969, she signed a contract with Track Records, the same independent label that also repped the British rock band, The Who and Jimi Hendrix, as she later said, “There was one luxury that London celebrity afforded me: the freedom to be myself without a single apology for my gap, my freaked-out hair, my brown skin, my slave-class ancestors or my radical views.”

Around this time, she also had a short-lived love affair with Marc Bolan, the singer and founder of the English rock band, T-Rex (even though he was much shorter than her 😂.)

She scored a few minor hits during her underrated music career with singles like a cover of T-Rex’s “Desdemona” and her debut single, a cover of “Walk on Gilded Splinters”.

[BOTTOM: Marsha performing the T-Rex cover “Desdemona” live.]

The record soon went to the charts, and that spring, she was asked to perform on various shows, including a popular British TV program called, “Top of the Pops”. During her live performance on the show, the tight bolero suede top she wore nearly came undone and partially exposed her breasts, a wardrobe malfunction that gave her the reputation of a “bad girl.”

NOW…Here’s the part y’all have been waiting for. Get your popcorn. Y’all got it? Ready? Good!!! 🍿

After her performance aired, Marsha soon received a phone call out of the blue from Jo Bergman, the then secretary for The Rolling Stones on behalf of the band’s frontman Mick Jagger who was actually watching the show live, asking her to pose semi–nude for a publicity photoshoot to promote the band’s new single, “Honky Tonk Women”. She said, “The picture was going to be of a girl dressed like a sleaze bag standing in a bar with the Stones and they wanted me to be the girl.”

[BOTTOM: Marsha performing "Walk on Gilded Splinters” on ‘Top of the Pops’ in May 1969. This was also the exact moment Mick Jagger first laid eyes on her!]

dailymotion

Marsha, who was not a Stones fan, was already established and didn’t really need the extra exposure. She later declined because she had her reputation to think about and said she “didn't want to look like [she'd] just been had by all The Rolling Stones.” She also claimed, “The last thing [Black women] needed was for me to denigrate us by dressing up like a whore” among a band of white men.

ENTER MICK JAGGER:

When she tried to get in touch with Mick to say, “thank you, but no thank you”, he later returned her call in an attempt to change her mind and even suggested he come over as he was very intrigued that a girl would turn him down.

Mick then showed up at her apartment around midnight as she claims, “He was framed by the doorway as he stood grinning with a dark coat ... He drew one hand out of his pocket and pointed it at me like a pistol. His silly 'Bang' was precisely the icebreaker we needed to get over my ungracious hesitation before I invited him in, not sure how to salute a notorious rogue who rings me just before midnight and suggests he pop round on a pretext of loneliness.”

They talked for HOURS, well until the sun came up about any and everything from music to social issues and politics, and according to her, Mick “made me squeal whenever he used Melanigian slang (aka Black vernacular/AAVE).” 🙄🤦🏾‍♀️

Marsha didn’t really find Mick physically attractive at first, stating, “He wasn't beautiful or even striking” however, he was boyish, open, direct, yet seemed quite awkward and shy. She found it a relief that he was nothing like other musicians she’d known or the image the media had portrayed him. He was incredibly charming, intelligent, funny, radical, and straddled the racial line, much like she did. She also quickly noticed that he had a penchant for Black women, as he claimed “They [Black women] just do something to me”.

The two of them had a lot in common and just clicked right off the bat. And things eventually turned hot as they ended up having sex. From there, they embarked on a passionate, but very private, deep romance and year-long affair, at a time when interracial relationships weren’t widely accepted yet.

Marsha didn’t expect to hear from him again, as he had a wide selection of women to choose from, but surprisingly, Mick wanted to see her and talk all the time, mostly because she was great to look at and he could count on her. Marsha said, “He knew that I adored him and that he could depend on me…he realized I respected him as I respected myself.”

Mick’s friend and interior designer Christopher Gibbs once said often when he dined with Mick, women who had slept with him would come up to the table and “he’d have absolutely no idea who they were.”

[LEFT: Mick photographed at the Shaftesbury Theatre in London to see the new musical “Hair” for the first time; RIGHT: Marsha performing in the show.]

1969 was a very rough year for Mick. He was having trouble with his band The Rolling Stones (which he was practically running by himself) because the founder and guitarist, Brian Jones, was becoming increasingly unreliable and spiraling out of control due to his deep drug addiction and legal troubles that led to him having difficulty getting a US work visa to go on an upcoming tour. Mick’s personal life was also a mess because his long-term girlfriend at the time, pop singer Marianne Faithfull, was also a very serious (and sloppy) drug addict, who often embarrassed him and became more dependent and difficult to be around. Things had gotten so bad between them, their relationship grew to be strictly platonic by this time.

Mick and Marianne were quite destructive together and often found themselves in legal troubles due to drugs. Marianne was also quite messy as she previously slept with Mick’s bandmates Brian Jones, Keith Richards, and even left her husband, John Dunbar, for Mick who was dating Black soul singer and former Ikette, Pat “P.P.” Arnold, when they first met.

P.P. also later claimed in her autobiography “Soul Survivor” that the three of them would often engage in drug-fueled threesomes much to Mick’s delight.

[BELOW: Soul singer & former Ikette, P.P. Arnold, who dated Mick from 1966-1967.]

While in London, Mick was still messing with P.P. who later became pregnant with his baby in 1967, but they both agreed to have an abortion, partly due to his growing relationship with Marianne.

[BELOW: Mick arriving at a courthouse with his then girlfriend, singer Marianne Faithfull in 1969.]

Marsha on the other hand, was stone-cold sober and didn’t do any drugs (NOT ONE), which was like a breath of fresh air for Mick, though he dabbled with hashish, LSD, and marijuana among other drugs himself. But unlike those around him, he was able to control his habit.

Even though their relationship quickly turned sexual, they were really, really close friends. Mick often retreated to her home to relax, he told her all his secrets, his troubles – he just trusted her. He was completely enamored of Marsha, who many describe as warm, intelligent, sensitive, funny, and very easy to talk to. He liked that she didn’t go gooey-eyed and weak-kneed in his presence like most (white) women/female fans did. Instead she had a crisply forthright manner and was almost quite “butch”. The Rolling Stones then manager was even quoted as saying that Mick was “obsessed” with Marsha as she was very exotic, and he even gave her the nickname “Miss Fuzzy” due to her afro hairstyle.

Ironically, Marsha enjoyed their well-kept relationship and is one of the only people who often calls him Michael instead of Mick, to distinguish him from his Rolling Stones rockstar persona.

Since Marsha was a fellow recording artist, they were able to be seen together in public without any arousing suspicion—in any case, London still had almost no paparazzi. They would often go to the same parties or events, even with Mick’s girlfriend there, and no one questioned it.

Mick would often pop into some of Marsha’s studio sessions with her band White Trash, and everyone around would be in awe of him.

Later, after officially firing Brian Jones from the band, Mick and the rest of the Stones were in desperate need of a new guitarist. Marsha promptly suggested her good friend, Mick Taylor (Yes, Stones fans – thank Marsha Hunt for that one!), as a replacement for Brian just days before he was mysteriously found dead (he sadly drowned in a swimming pool at his home) on July 3, 1969.

Additionally, when Mick sought a replacement for Jo Bergman, the secretary who handled all The Rolling Stones affairs, Marsha also suggested her friend and tour manager, Peter Rudge - (The same guy responsible for getting the Stones all those huge tours in massive stadiums. Again, thank Marsha!)

Two days after Brian’s death, the Stones played a free concert before a crowd of over 250,000 people in Hyde Park, London, which was previously planned to debut their new guitarist, but turned into a memorial/funeral for Brian. Mick invited both Marianne (who looked a hot ass mess and was in withdrawal from heroin at the time), and Marsha (who showed up looking sexy af with her titties bustin’ out of her buckskin suit) to the concert, and rudely and distastefully opened the show with a song called, “I’m Yours and I’m Hers.”

[BELOW: Mick & Marsha at The Rolling Stones tribute concert to Brian Jones in Hyde Park, London on July 5, 1969.]

Marianne who sat on the other end of the stage with her 4-year old son Nicholas and the other Stones wives/girlfriends, actually saw Marsha that day as she was placed right above the stage in the scaffold VIP section at the request of Mick so that he could look at her while he performed. She later said, “I saw her [Marsha] you know. And she was stunning…If I’d been Mick in that situation, I might have done exactly the same thing.”

Mick arrived at the concert with Marianne that afternoon, but left with Marsha and spent the night at her place where they made love.

A day after the concert, Mick kissed Marsha goodbye, and flew with Marianne to Australia to shoot a biographical film they were both cast in called “Ned Kelly,” based on the infamous bushranger. However, Marianne who was reeling from the recent death of Brian Jones and a horrible miscarriage just a few months earlier, overdosed on 150 Tuinal barbiturates while traveling with Mick, and fell into a coma in their hotel room.

[LEFT & RIGHT: Mick & Marianne arriving in Australia to film ��Ned Kelly.” Marianne slipped into a coma just hours later from an attempted suicide.]

At the last minute, Mick was forced to film the movie without her, but phoned and wrote to Marsha, who was extremely frantic and worried about his mental health and emotional well-being, almost everyday. She was scared that he didn’t have the stamina to deal with yet another crisis. He sent Marsha over 10 handwritten letters (some even written on the same headed stationery paper of Chevron Hotel where his girlfriend just tried to kill herself) about his deep feelings for her, his experience filming on set, being in the Australian outback, his new interests, the historic day of the moon landing of 1969, future career plans, his regret at missing her performance at the famous Isle of Wight Festival, and other aspects of pop culture (including “John & Yoko boring everybody…”). The letters also reference the recent death of his former bandmate Brian Jones, Mick’s increasingly difficult relationship with Marianne, and another letter even had the full original lyrics for The Rolling Stones song “Monkey Man”, which was later rewritten.

Mick’s letters also went on to mention the foul Australian winter weather and an unpleasant virus that swept through the film unit, a fire that destroyed most of the film’s costumes, along with various other accidents – including a prop gun that backfired in his right hand. He was just having a real shitty time. So, he found solace writing to Marsha.

His letters to Marsha showed how pensive and romantic he was. He said things like,“I feel with you something so unsung there is no need to sing it...” and “If I sailed with you around the world, all my sails would be unfurled.” He also thanked her for being “so nice to an evil old man like me”. And in another steamy note, Mick promises Marsha: "I will kiss you softly. And bite your mouth too."

[RIGHT & LEFT: Mick’s private letters sent to Marsha while filming “Ned Kelly” in Australia during the late summer of 1969.]

Mick also celebrated his 26th birthday while filming in Australia and Marsha sent him a huge package of books (which he loves) and albums, including her friend John Mayall’s record “Brown Sugar.” Along with his gifts was a note stating how she missed him desperately.

While still trying to rehabilitate his hand from the prop accident, Mick toyed with a new guitar he had and started work on a song he had in his head, which was partly inspired by Marsha and that he initially titled “Black Pussy.” He decided that name was a little too direct and changed it instead to “Brown Sugar” with the lyrics:

[Verse 1]

Gold coast slave ship bound for cotton fields Sold in the market down in New Orleans Scarred old slaver knows he's doing alright Hear him whip the women just around midnight

[Chorus]

Brown sugar, how come you taste so good? Uh huh Brown sugar, just like a young girl should

[BOTTOM: Recording of “Brown Sugar” by The Rolling Stones later released on their Sticky Fingers album in 1971.]

youtube

Mick later confirmed in a 1995 Rolling Stone magazine interview that the song is a double-entendre: “brown sugar” being the street name for unrefined heroin and of course also meaning his seemingly equal addiction to having sex with Black women. The song was a huge commercial success and ended up becoming a huge #1 hit around the world, making it one of the Rolling Stones’ best-selling records to date.

[TOP: A movie poster of “Ned Kelly” which was released in June 1970; BOTTOM: Mick with his guitar composing “Brown Sugar” during filming.]

While Mick was still filming overseas, Marsha was booked to perform at the iconic 3-day outdoor concert, the Isle of Wight Festival on August 30th, 1969. At the time, it was the biggest open-air concert in music history and she was the only woman billed to perform. She was there alongside acts like The Who, Joe Cocker, and even Bob Dylan who hadn’t been onstage in three years.

Mick told her in a letter that he was so proud of her and promised her that he was “there in my head and in my heart.” Keith Richards, Charlie Watts and his wife Shirley, and Jo Bergman were also in the audience watching Marsha perform.

Marsha also made headline news as she wore custom-made leather shorts to which the press ran with and by the next fashion season, short shorts were featured in every fashion magazine. She was the first person to popularize “hot pants”.

[BELOW: Marsha performing with her band White Trash at the Isle of Wight Festival in 1969 with members of The Rolling Stones looking on in the audience.]

After Mick came back from Australia, Marsha was offered a part in a film called “Welcome to the Club” which is a comedy about three Black USO performers sent to Hiroshima in the 1940s to entertain the troops on an all-white base. The film was being directed by Walter Shenson, who had produced The Beatles' films “A Hard Day's Night” and “Help” and shot it entirely in Copenhagen, Denmark.

She was also asked to fly back to London to shoot another cover for American Vogue which was shot by photographer Patrick Litchfield. (They‘d never had a Black woman on the cover before.)

Mick began touring in America again, his first since 1966, and with the number of girls he had access to, she knew he was keeping himself busy on and off stage.

[LEFT: Mick on stage at Madison Square Garden during the Stones’ 1969 tour; RIGHT: Marsha filming “Welcome to the Club”.]

He even started a short-lived relationship with yet another Black singer and Ikette Claudia Lennear, as well sparking up a fling with Devon Wilson, a notorious rock & roll groupie and the girlfriend of Jimi Hendrix who famously wrote the song “Dolly Dagger” about their affair.

[LEFT: Mick arriving at Madison Square Garden in November 1969 with Devon Wilson; RIGHT: Mick backstage at the same event with singer Claudia Lennear.]

But on December 6, 1969 - everything changed dramatically when an 18-year old concertgoer was stabbed and killed during the Stones’ free concert at the Altamont Speedway in California by the Hell’s Angels Motorcycle Club, who was the band’s security. Members of the Hell’s Angels blamed Mick for the incident and subsequent to the concert, put a hit out on him and threatened to murder him. This marked the third major tragedy to happen since Mick and Marsha met each other.

[BELOW: A scared Mick looks on as 18-year old Meredith Hunter is stabbed to death by the Hell’s Angels in front of the stage while the Stones performed at Altamont Speedway.]

Marsha stayed with Mick after the chaos at Altamont, which the media dubbed “The Death of the ‘60s”. By this time, he had officially split up with Marianne and moved Marsha into his house on Cheyne Walk where she helped him to transition and readjust his life. It was then their relationship intensified!

This is around the time she got a chance to know some of Mick’s friends who lived on the same road, including Keith Richards and his girlfriend, actress Anita Pallenberg, who just had a son, but was hooked on heroin. She thought they were both nice, but they’d visit or show up unannounced to their home all the time. Their hard drug-taking also scared Marsha, so she kept her distance and didn’t voice her opinion.

She also met Mick’s parents, Eva and Joe Jagger, along with his little brother Chris who was a bit of a hippie and had just returned from India with his American girlfriend. They both had no work, no money, and nowhere to stay, so Marsha kindly gave them a job, one included painting her new apartment.

That Christmas, Marsha got Mick a puppy and Mick, for the first time, told her that he loved her.

Marsha was in a good place. Opportunities were coming to her fast, she had a new apartment, and she was in love with Mick. She had newfound stability and independence.

In January 1970, they were having dinner at the celebrity hotspot restaurant Mr. Chow’s when Mick said that she’d be a good mother and that they should have a baby together. Prior to this Marsha thought she was just another girl he fancied, as he was a notorious womanizer. But the talk of having a baby made her feel special to him. Her feelings for him were so deep that she also claimed, “I would have died for him.”

She knew Marianne miscarried around the same time Keith Richards’ son Marlon was born. Mick also missed family life with Marianne’s son Nicholas, so wanted to give having a baby a second try.

This fool literally made Marsha take out her birth control and IUD coil, they proceeded to have sex like rabbits, and when she found out she was 3 weeks pregnant, she told Mick who was ecstatic.

Marsha literally said to him, “Listen, if you’re not ready and you changed your mind about this, it’s okay.” She was totally ready to get an abortion. But he assured her that it was what he wanted and he was happy.

They had their first argument when it came time to naming their baby. Mick wanted a boy who he could send to the prestigious Eton School (the all-boys school where Prince William & Prince Harry attended), and he proposed that they call the baby ‘Midnight Dream’. Marsha wasn’t having it and even said, “Imagine sticking your head out of a window to call your child home and yelling, 'Midnight. Midnight! Time for tea.’”

She'd known that he and the band were leaving England for tax reasons and moving to France in the coming year. The Stones were also gearing up for their upcoming European tour.

Even though she loved Mick, he was young and she claimed she was “all for Mick doing his own thing”. They were supposed to be the sophisticated embodiment of an alternative social ideal — parent-hood shared between loving friends living separate lives.

This was around the time of the sexual revolution and people were exploring different types of relationships. Marsha didn’t find gratification in being “Mr. So and So’s” wife, plus Mick wasn’t the marriage type either. He was the type of guy to get up at 2pm to start his day - so marriage was sort of off the table. Though, unbeknownst to Marsha, Mick has thought of proposing, she claimed their relationship “thrived off her being supportive” and she loved to see him “run free”. And since she grew up in a matriarchy, the ideal of a man and woman living together seemed nice but unnecessary. They agreed that Mick would be a good absent father while he made his music and toured with The Rolling Stones, and Marsha could still have her own life and career. It was all very modern!

Marsha also feared that her association with Mick would crowd out her own identity. She didn’t like the limelight because it was a discomfort. She also never wanted to be known as Mick Jagger's girlfriend (can you blame her? So many of his girlfriends tried to commit suicide). Like him, she wanted her own independence.

By June 1969, Marsha told her band and the press that she was pregnant, but did not give up the name of her baby’s father. However, one little clever ass reporter actually found out it was Mick Jagger and threatened to print it. She thought of suing but asked the Stones PR team to link him to another girl. She managed to get through her pregnancy without a media frenzy or being linked to Mick even though they had stepped out together many times, and he was ready to have it reported.

While Mick was away touring in Europe, his phone calls got less frequent. The tour was a bit crazy, and although Mick invited her to go to Paris, he knew she'd refuse – she didn’t want to get caught up. But he told her he was lonely and had met someone in Paris that he was taking to Italy. Her name was Bianca. She was Nicaraguan and spoke little English. Mick didn't mention her again, but after the tour, Marsha knew that she had moved to his house in England.

His publicist sent her an invite to the premiere of his corny movie, “Ned Kelly,” but he didn’t show up. He also invited his parents to the event and it was there she realized that the bastard didn’t tell them that he had a baby on the way. Mick hardly lavished praise on his parents and even once told the press, “I owe them nothing. They are my parents, that is that…but there are no dues to be made by me to them!”

By her third trimester, having a baby became her whole reality and his passing fancy. He started to forget that the baby was HIS idea.

Despite Marsha carrying his child, practically all references to her and the baby were quickly airbrushed out of his life. Chris O'Dell, Mick’s PA in the early ‘70s was even quoted as saying, “I never remember him talking about their child. In fact, I wasn’t aware of a baby being around at all. It was almost like [his first child] didn’t exist.”

Marsha was put in a difficult position because it was too late to go back and sometimes he’d phone her like nothing ever happened. She claimed his mood would change so quickly, he was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. She also said, “I've discovered that he can burn hot and suddenly cool to below zero.”

She started to worry that he didn’t care anymore, so, she tried to squeeze in any and every piece of work she possibly could to hold her up during and after her pregnancy (tv shows, photoshoots, etc.). She also volunteered at a local mental-care center in the autistic unit caring for a 12 year old boy to keep from feeling useless.

[BELOW: A heavily pregnant Marsha performing in late 1970.]

At the same time, Mick also did a lot of peculiar interviews, either stating he wasn’t interested in having children or flat out dissing Marsha. During a 1970 interview with London’s Daily Mail newspaper he even said, “For me, life has always got to be on the move and exciting. I love kids, I really do…but it’s not something I’m thinking about.” He of course failed to mention that Marsha was expecting their first child.

[BELOW: Mick during an interview referencing Marsha & his unborn child in 1970.]

Once it was time for her to give birth, a hard-up Marsha was ashamed and reluctant to ask him for any contribution because he never once offered. Mick ultimately gave her a measly £200 to get by, which came with a note saying “I know I haven’t done right by you” and he also “loaned” her a ring he always wore.

She had initially planned a natural home delivery to keep the press at bay and because it was the “it” thing to do at the time, but was told by her OB-GYN that her baby was in danger and that she had to go to the hospital the next day.

On November 3rd, she dragged her own luggage and hailed a taxi to the hospital only to be told there weren’t enough beds. Panicked and scared, she went back home quite sure she was going to die from an unassisted childbirth.

When she went back to the hospital the next day for an induced labor, she checked in with her married name “Ratledge” to protect herself (and Mick). On November 4, 1970 after hours of labor, she gave birth to a girl she named Karis and phoned Mick first and then her mother. That day was the first time Mick actually told his now girlfriend, Bianca, that Marsha and his baby existed.

While waiting in the maternity ward, the nurses also forgot to feed Marsha who was so hungry. But being on The National Health, she didn’t complain.

When she checked out of the hospital, Mick sent a bouquet of red roses, a miniature muse figurine for the baby, a silver spoon, and some cheap Indian earrings for Marsha. He “dropped by” two days later to see his baby but was in a hurry to be somewhere else.

10 days later, he paid another rushed visit, but she eventually took him to the side because she wasn’t in the mood to entertain his detachment. And she was kinda like, “Hey! What’s up with you? Why don’t you call or come around more often for the baby” trying to get some genuine reaction out of him instead of keeping her at bay with the polite chitchat bullshit, in which he snapped and yelled at her, “I never loved you” and told her that she was “mad to think that he had”. Of course Marsha, hormonal, stitches still in, burning and all, did not expect for him to stab back and immediately started to cry, which only made him more angry. The piece of shit even had the audacity to threaten to take her newborn baby away from her if he chose. She stopped and in a stern voice said, “Try it! I’d blow your brains out!!”

In that moment, the loyalty she had for him was gone. She had no choice but to push forward and tried to find as much work as she could to support herself and her baby.

[BELOW: Marsha & Mick after the birth of their first child Karis Hunt in late 1970.]

READ ‘PART 2’ HERE!!! ☕️☕️☕️

#marsha hunt #mick jagger #the rolling stones #brown sugar #rolling stones #interracial couple #black women #karis jagger #music #history #rock history #rock & roll #musicians #thread #gossip #old school tea #1960s #1970s #sbrown82

321 notes · View notes

total-drama-brainrot · 5 months

Note

ok, hear me out. We all know Noah wasn’t in action, but if he was, I DESPERATELY want to know what p!noah’s superhero costume thing would be, and what it would be called.

Suggested this idea to the server, and the wonderful @perpetualexistence offered the idea of p!Noah technically complying to the ruleset of the challenge by offering up his superhero persona; Hyde, the invisible hero.

Which is just Noah's convoluted way of not dressing up at all. Instead, he sits backstage and projects his voice to where he's "supposed" to be. It's an idea born from equal parts ingenuity and laziness, which fits Noah to a tee!

And it's pretty symbolic of p!Noah's role in the show; his whole deal is hiding in the background and floating his way through the competition, practically invisible to the people around him, whilst being glaringly obvious to the audience (thanks to both his pranks with Izzy and his other antics).

It's also a nice nod to Jekyll and Hyde. You know, the story about a man who divides himself into two distinct personalities; one the fair-mannered and socially acceptable Doctor Jekyll, and the other the self-indulgent vice-seeking Mister Hyde. (And then eventually succumbs to the draw of his self-indulgent personality and commits suicide before he loses the "proper" part of himself.) It's a really good comparison to p!Noah, who also hides his wilder nature and instinctive drive to thrill-seek behind the personality of an apathetic bookworm. There's parallels there.

Of course, Noah wouldn't explain any of that to the judges- or, well, just Chris- in this hypothetical scenario, since it's put his tumultuous façade into jeopardy.

I imagine Chris would give him some points for originality, and then immediately revoke them due to "lack of effort". Then, when asked to give an example of his power, Noah would grab at his ankle from under the table or something- since this is p!Noah, who's intrinsically a little shit and would never pass up on an oppertunity to scare the daylights out of someone. Over all, he'd probably get a mediocre score in the "super model" portion of the challenge.

As for the obstacle course? Well. Since he's "invisible", there'd be no way for Chris to verify how quickly he completes the course- if he does at all.

Spoiler, he doesn't. At the start of the challenge he hides himself somewhere nearby and tries to play off his non-participation as his "invisibility". It doesn't work. Noah's not very torn up about it.

#I also want to add that during the costume making portion of the challenge Chef would be SO HESITANT to try and sabotage him.#Like Duncan's part. But Noah just shoots Chef a crazy smile or the Kubrick Stare and Chef immediately backs off.#total drama #td noah #psycho!noah au #silly hypotheticals #replies

39 notes · View notes

littlemisssquiggles · 5 months

Text

...So...about the second episode of RWBY Beyond...

[SPOILERS AHEAD! NUFF SAID]

It skips over the return of RWBY and Jaune, reuniting with their comrades in Vacuo and getting to see everyone’s reactions to being reunited with their missing comrades after so long.

Alright. I guess they're saving that for V10 if it gets greenlit. Fair and fine.

That being said, it skips over the reunion to focus a whole episode on Jaune in the aftermath of the return from the Ever After?

...Huh?

I’m sorry. But for the sake of being that person, I’m gonna be that person.

Just to set the record straight, I don’t hate Jaune. I've never hated Jaune as a character. I have mostly had issues with the way the Writers just love to have Jaune’s development usurp others who deserve the screen time and focus more than him.

Personally, I do not care for Jaune’s development right now. Jaune’s whole experience in the Ever After, for me, did NOT need to be a focus episode for RWBY Beyond.

Especially since there are other characters who had more tragic experiences in the Ever After whose feelings I would’ve liked to see in the aftermath.

And by other characters, I mainly mean Ruby!

I do, however, love the detail of Oscar being someone that Jaune gets to talk to.

That was nice and I’m pleased to see that for a second time, Oscar is featured in RWBY Beyond. I actually hope that’s a thing for the final two episodes. I hope that Oscar appears in each episode of RWBY Beyond, even if he’s just in the background.

But going back to my original rant, Jaune is NOT the person I was itching to see Oscar talk to especially in respect to their experience in the Ever After.

If there is any body I wanted to see talk to Oscar, it’s RUBY ROSE! And no, this has nothing to do with Rosegarden or shipping potential at all. I’m talking about this from a narrative perspective.

Ruby’s whole arc in the Ever After was basically about life, death and rebirth in a sense. A complete deconstruction of her character, resulting in her committing the Ever After equivalent of “suicide” and be faced with an ultimatum of choosing to become someone else or be herself in which she chose herself.

Ruby lost herself in the Ever After for a moment. Oscar is on the cusp of losing himself at this moment.

Ruby saw Oscar “die” as part of an illusion that hinted at her being responsible for his death and/failing to save him just like she did with other friends like Penny.

Oscar is on the cusp of “dying” metaphorically right now.

YOU DON’T THINK THESE ARE TWO PEOPLE WHO DEFINTELY NEED TO TALK TO EACH OTHER?!!

C’MON CRWBY! IT'S FINE THAT JAUNE GETS TO TALK TO OSCAR BUT I NEED RUBY TO TALK TO OSCAR TOO!

And speaking of Oscar, don't think I didn't notice his little awkward cough and shifty eyes, immediately redirecting the conversation when Oscar made a point about being in similar situation to Jaune and Jaune be like "You mean Ozpin, right?" and Oscar be like "Aah yes, of course". Ya'll ain't slick dropping dem Merge crumbs! For what it's worth, I do hope an episode focus more on Oscar and Oz in the cards for the final two episodes.

Overall, this second episode of RWBY Beyond was alright. As was the first.

The artwork of RWBY Beyond is absolutely breathtaking to me and is easily my favourite part of watching the anthology. Inspite of the limited animation, the beautiful artwork more than makes up for it. I definitely wouldn’t mind an actual physical RWBY storybook anthology series done in this same art style.

Makes me wish that Fairytales of Remnant animated series was done in this exact same style instead of the awkward Camp Camp style that DID NOT feel like RWBY at all.

All in all, onward to the next episode of RB. Makes me wonder who will be the focus of the final two episodes.

Like which characters will be we get to have an episode about? Obviously, speaking for myself, I would love an Oscar-centric episode. I mean…he’s been in every episode thus far so it’d be nice to see on all about him for once.

Outside of Oscar, I wouldn’t mind an episode about the Schnee Family done from Whitley’s perspective? That’s also a good one to see.

And of course, if there is one person an episode needs to be done on, it has to be Ruby. I mean the Oscar and Whitley ones are probabilities but a Ruby-focus episode for RWBY Beyond has to be in the cards, right?

If they can touch base on Jaune’s feelings during the Aftermath of the Ever After then surely, they gotta talk about Ruby's whole experience with her literal death and rebirth, right? RIGHT?

I guess only time will tell. 2 Episodes down. 2 more to go so see ya’ll next week.

~LMS (2024)

#squiggles talks: rwby #rwby beyond #oscar pine #ruby rose #rwby spoilers #rwby beyond spoilers

27 notes · View notes

thefaeriefeatherdark · 26 days

Text

A Bad Summary of some of the Gothic Literature I've read

The Castle of Otranto: A definitely real medieval manuscript about a very complicated inheritance crisis over a small region in Italy where in several people die, a priest shockingly has a son even though he's not supposed to, and a Santa Claus is watching from the background.

The Spider: A quirky girl causes a bunch of men commit suicide.

The Great God Pan: A quirky girl causes a bunch of men commit suicide.

Carmilla: A girl tries to create a lesbian polyamory via the only means that is obvious enough for the women she flirts with to pick up (because apparently kissing them and saying she loves them isn't), which is of course by slowly draining them of their blood so they may join her in undeath as vampires.

Olalla: A very horny, very racist Scottish guy really wants to have sex with every member of this noble family but specifically only wants to marry the one within whom the effects of inbreeding are least obvious.

The Jewel of the Seven Stars: A group of people have to deal the understandably angry ghost of an Egyptian Pharoah who is quite upset her body was stolen from it's tomb, all her stuff got taken away, and she got dragged to the hellhole that is London. Eventually her kidnapper feels a bit bad about this and decides to help her out.

Dracula: I mean everyone on the site has read this one.

Lair of the White Worm: The worst of Bram Stoker's longer form gothic works, but also the last. An Australian guy who is very excited to be there realizes that maybe England is a little haunted. Meanwhile he gets himself a wife with psychic powers, and plots against the Giant Snake who is planning to marry into wealth to escape her debts.

Phantom of the Opera: An incel decides to cause problems on purpose and also attempts desperately to woo a girl by threats of violence and his excellent singing skills. After finally managing to get her to promise to marry him by leveraging her boyfriend he realizes he's not ready for the commitment and dies. Also there's a guy called the Persian who is rad.

Frankenstein: A college student realizes he is not ready for a kid, even one he made with evil science, and spends the next decade running from his problems.

#Gothic Horrror #Gothic literature #Carmilla #The Great God Pan #The Spider #Lair of the White Worm #Phantom of the Opera #Frankenstein #The Castle of Otranto #The Jewel of the Seven Stars #Dracula #Bram Stoker

17 notes · View notes

catboybiologist · 8 months

Text

Holy fuck this got long.

@glorhatransgal asked about my "queer timeline", and I'm making a separate post for reblog control. Feel free to engage in the replies or my DMs, though! I'm a pretty open book, except some stuff I would rather leave to DMs.

The tl;Dr is that I think I knew from the time I started puberty, but I had a weird commitment to suppression and misery. I've only managed to tackle that feeling in the past year or so, and I still need to socially transition.

Long long thing under the cut with mental health CWs!!!!!

I'm pretty sure the first awareness I had of queerness was when California proposition 8 was a thing, in the 2008 election. I was ~10 or 11 at the time, and asked my mom what the big deal with letting two men marry was. She explained a bit, explained that "you'll like girls when you get older but you shouldn't judge what other people do" and then emphasized that I shouldn't really ever worry about dating or relationships ever because I should focus on school.

That was a HUGE underlying theme, not just from my parents, but from the area I grew up in overall. Very high academic pressure just kinda.... Oozed out of everywhere, without any one specific parent or teacher particularly overemphasizing it (with notable exceptions). This came up a lot, and made me feel stupid or vain for engaging in any other aspects of my personality, including queerness.

I remember having some semblance of trans thoughts back in Middle School, without ever learning what trans people are explicitly. None of the adults in my life wanted to discuss the subject, mostly brushing it off as "it's something other people do and you shouldn't judge them". Very little explicit hate, to be fair, which is good. But a lot of changing the subject. So to me, it felt like basic vanity- eg, a shallow desire to be "pretty" that everyone had, of course, that I just needed to get rid of to focus on academics.

And of course, on top of that, I was more tech literate than the average kid. So my head was stuffed with the.... Unique.... Perspective on queerness, particularly trans people, provided by the unrestricted wilderness of the 2009-2016 internet. Since no adult in my life would really address it, it gave me a lot of really bad perspectives on the whole thing.

I'm not quite sure when bisexuality entered the picture, but I called myself "straight with exceptions" from the ages of 14 to 21 at least. My earliest clear memory of being attracted to a man was when I saw Aragorn in LotR for the first time (can you blame me?). If you want to make fun of my little nerd ass more, my first distinct attraction to a woman was probably Padme's midriff outfit in Attack of the Clones. Again, since my head was stuffed with weird ideas of queerness, gayness was often portrayed as a disgust or lack of attraction to women. I didn't have that, so I couldn't be queer, right? "Straight with an asterisk" it was.

Dysphoria kinda crackled in the background and grew as I went through puberty. The way I've described it is that my "resting state" was never happy pre-HRT. I could easily make myself happy and distract from it, but I didn't "come home" to a good feeling. Not an overwhelming feeling, not a suicidal one, but just being miserable in the background if there wasn't something to make me happy.

So when I hit a wall with my mental health in high school, it ended very poorly. I was in mostly advanced programs until then, but couldn't keep up due to things I *now* realize were ADHD symptoms. I had ongoing physical health problems that meant orthopedic surgeries, multiple extended times on crutches, limping around a lot, and ongoing pain and lack of physical ability that most people couldn't see, making me feel hopeless about my body and future. Add in a nice little dysphoria bundle in the background of all of that…and yeah. That's the self harm and suicidal period of my life. I was very weird in high school, oscillating between AP classes and almost failing out. I was also really just... Nasty to a lot of people around me, as a shield for how miserable I was. So uh, if you knew me in high school and stumble across this somehow... I am truly sorry. But I made it through, mostly through the patience and good graces of friends and teachers.

Anyways. I'm on a tangent.

Undergrad wasn't that memorable for my queerness- I lived at home while attending a local state college, and dated one cis girl for about a year there. Years later she told me that she realized she's bi, so that was kinda validating. I dove a lot into a academics, research, and volunteering to distract myself, and was academically successful.

I was asked out by a gay guy at one point in undergrad. He was someone who I had talked about my uncertain sexuality with and helped me work towards calling myself bi. When he asked me out, I got a bad vibe, and told him I actually thought I was straight. He was later arrested for rape. So uh... Bullet dodged? After his arrest, I started openly calling myself bisexual, but didn't really do anything with it- no dating and no community. It was a long time coming by that point, and the experience made me realize that I didn't have to be attracted to *all* men to say I'm attracted to men. After all, I wasn't attracted to all women either.

I graduated from undergrad in 2020 and stayed at the same uni for my MS. And this is where we enter "how much do I say" territory. My MS was instrumental in figuring out my transness, but was also a fucked up ongoing situation that involves several other people's dirty laundry that I don't necessarily want to air. I can talk a bit more about this in DMs if I know you and trust you, I guess. Sorry OP. So uuuhhh... Let's just say that I was extremely miserable and living mostly alone, so in the Fall of 2020, I ordered my first skirt to try and alleviate that background misery. I called myself a femboy as a last ditch effort to “just be a feminine man”. It was a key part of figuring myself out, though, and I loved the online community I made that way. About a year afterwards, I was having a shit time, and started the CatboyBiologist account on reddit to distract myself from it. I worked more and more from home, and would dress up as a "femboy" as I did.

I graduated from my MS in 2022 in a miserable state, probably worse than I was even as a teen. But it made me realize three things: one, some kind of mental illness made it really easy for my life to derail, two, my dysphoria made it such that *when* my life derailed, I had nothing to be happy about, and three, my weird standards growing up gave me the subconscious sense that I HAVE to be miserable, otherwise I'm not "accomplished" or whatever.

That's kind of the theme of my queer experience. I always knew it was there, but I excused it as "stupid" or just ignored it because I thought everyone was supposed to be miserable by default.

When I entered my PhD, I made a promise to myself to get rid of my weird connection to misery, and actually work on the first two. I joined a grad student queer group and started therapy almost immediately. At first the focus of therapy was essentially immediate trauma support. Slowly, however, I was able to tackle the underlying issues in therapy. I also brought my "femboy" fits to events organized by that queer org, and social events with the friends I made there. I fully engaged in my bisexuality and had a hot girl summer last year, dating men, women, and enbies for the first time since my undergrad GF.

Oh, and btw. Being a feminine man gets you laid. I'm sorry, it's just how it is. Take notes, alpha males, and put on the fucking dress.

With that support, I finally started HRT in August of last year, at the age of 25. I'm still a mix of boymode and girlmode- I girlmode around queer friends, and boymode most of the time otherwise. I've also told several people that I'm transitioning, but just to treat me as a man for now and wait for me to come out more publicly. My plan is to take a hiatus from my PhD this summer, and use that to travel and socially transition. So that's my upcoming landmark experience.

Up until this past month or so, I was the happiest I've ever been. Some out of the blue bad things happened this January. But I realized something- for the first time ever, bad shit happened in my life, and I didn't derail. I was sad. I cried. I was frustrated. I yelled. I had dynamic emotions and handled it. That's never happened before.

Obviously it's always an ongoing process, and it's linked to so many details of my life that it's really hard to say things about “just my queer experience” but uh yeah. Idk if anyone read all that and I'm taking multiple passes to trim out details that got too personal, but fuckit I'm already extremely doxxable at this point.

#cw self harm #cw suicide #trans #transgender #bisexuality #bisexual

32 notes · View notes

moriartyluver · 1 year

Text

FALSE LOVERS CHAPTER XXII

Quick A/N: this chapter does contain adult themes, although nothing too explicit, couldn't bring myself to write the full thing lol. This was already established in both the disclaimers and the book description but just letting you know :) Anyways sorry for taking a while to update, take this as an apology. I won't be able to update as frequently come September because I have to do college :( I feel old. I'll still update though, of course. It just might take me a week or two between updates.

"T-THIS WAS YOUR DOING...? YOU ARE THE LORD OF CRIMES?!" Adler exclaimed in surprise

"Look.." Albert murmured, his voice gradually growing clearer "Within the circles of the nobles the death of another person is not a reason to stop a party. They only care about themselves." He took a sip of his red wine as (name) took a seat, her chin resting against her fist "At first I had to throw up all the time but I got used to it..to the point I can now drink a glass of wine after a murder in peace."

'Or maybe because you're an alcoholic in denial..'

(Name) sighed, evidently bored after the Barons death as Albert continued his almost Shakespearean dramatic monologue.

"Even (name) here is bored after poisoning a man because of how she is used to these practices." Albert trailed off as Adler watched them with deep and genuine concern. "What I am trying to say is..the death of a single nobleman has no impact on the nobility itself. You could execute countless nobles and the rest would not care whatsoever."

(Name) looked down at the nobles. Some were dancing other were conversing as if there wasn't a dead body in their presence. Their frivolous lifestyles could be acceptable to an extent but this was clearly crossing the line of what was acceptable. Obviously, dancing after a death of a man was not ethical in the slightest, but what would she know about ethics? She was married to the lord of crime.

Speaking of marriage, after the recent increase in rumours regarding her marriage, she couldn't help but feel anxious as she tried to think of some sort of plan. Was William aware of this? Oh, why would he care? It wasn't as if he needed (name) to produce an offspring nor could he care less about her in terms of her being his wife.

She could easily have the creator of the rumours killed, but it wasn't about people spreading it but the very notion that there was something...wrong... with her. That wasn't to say (name) believed women who suffered with infertility were wrong, but rather she knew that she likely was not infertile and therefore, these rumours were misinformation, and (name) despised misinformation.

"The word nobility doesn't refer to the people themselves," (name) eventually spoke after being silent in thought for so long "but it is more so referring to the very concept that they uphold, the aristocracy."

"Martina Meyer.." The brunette whispered the name "You and I...were perusing the same goal, aren't we?"

Well this was certainly familiar..It had reminded (name) of her own marriage proposal, except with less guns and magnetic forces between individuals.

'These people know my past..!'

"Martina, just like you, was born from a commoners background and was to be your successor as a Prima Donna...but then she suddenly committed suicide and someone of higher status succeeded her.." Albert said as Adler averted her gaze, looking down onto the dancing nobles. "The assumption was that she committed suicide because the pressure of the lead role was too much for her to handle. But in reality she was murdered because she was a commoner..partially also due to not being as talented as you are.."

(Name) stood up with a stern expression. She brushed a stray strand of hair/braid/lock away from her face with her gloved hand. Adler clenched her teeth.

"You're currently working as a courtesan here, aren't you?" (Name) asked although she already knew the answer. Bright blue eyes widened in surprise "You utilities your feminine weapons to find and exploit the weak spots of those in power. Don't worry, I've been in such a position too. It's a means of protection for yourself and others..blackmailing is quite powerful, isn't it?"

Adler opened her mouth to speak for a moment, but no words could come out. Her throat was dry and she felt as though she was backed against a wall.

"We have to reform this country from the roots,all the way to the top!" Albert dramatically held a glass of wine as he gazed down below "to use false flags to open the public's eyes and turn the class system into a free society...those are our goals!"

'I wonder what William's doing at the moment..' (name) wondered as she put a hand to her cheek, resting her back against a pillar.

"Please indulge me..to keep the lower class class in check, the nobility keeps a low profile among the people, but if their crimes were made public the people would notice all their misdeeds committed upon them. One could try to create a society based on merit instead of right of blood..if one truly desires to change the world, then I believe the only way to do this is through crimes...effort is futile in this society..This world that leaves effort unrewarded, I want to end with my generation, doesn't it sound wonderful?"

"We've taken enough of your time," (name) interrupted, feeling both a strange kind of exhaustion and agitation as she was ready to excuse herself. "Five o'clock before dawn, (that would be about 7 hours from then) the church at the end of the north road in Hoxton. We will wait for you in the chapel." She said, walking towards the staircase with Albert before he could start on another ramble of thoughts. Someone should get him into a philosophy class, (name) thought. "You haven't much time left, think it over well."

"B-But, what if Holmes suspects something..?" Adler stuttered

"Just tell him you reached an agreement with the government. It wouldn't be too far fetched." Albert offered his advice as they departed

(Name) slowly walked through the hallway, contemplating various methods to stop the rumours that seemed to be running wild in high society. If she directly spoke of them, it would put her own reputation in jeopardy and it would be more suspicious.

She had just left the ball, but had to leave a little later than albert which gave him time to give William his report on the events that evening. She had stayed a little to speak to Arabella who had offered to help trace the rumours for her but she had no interest in doing so. There only thing she could possibly do would be to prove these rumours wrong.

If she was supposedly infertile and told everyone that she was not, but still spoke of her love with her husband, then it would only confirm the rumours. If nothing was done, one of two conclusions would be drawn by London's elite. Either she was infertile and could not have children, which would not only fuel more rumours of William possibly having a mistress but could also put the entire (last name) family at risk.

In addition to that, the noblewomen who believed that a foreigner, no matter how high in status, would try approach William and possibly make him uncomfortable. (Name) couldn't have that happening.

If anyone thought their marriage was an unhappy one, and word travels fast when the nobility makes up less than 3% of Britain's population, then there would be suspicions in regard to why they married so quickly in the first place.

If anyone were to find out about their contractual marriage, (name) was done for. Not only that, but also the whole plan William had made to dismantle the class system would be essentially ruined.

'What could possibly be done to avoid such a scandal from arising..?'

(Name) already knew the answer but she refused to resort to it. She could possibly...did she even feel attraction to him..? Well she had grown to become comfortable with the idea that she may but it was strictly physical. It didn't change the fact that she hated him..but it was her only solution..

‘no, the gossip will die down anyways, that’s certain…’

(Name) snapped out of her thoughts. She looked up, tearing her eyes away from the ground to see William entering his bedroom, likely to get something to take back to his office. He clearly wasn't in the right mind to sleep despite the hour. His eyes were slightly tired, although they shimmered so beautifully in the moon light illuminating the halls. His hair was slightly messy, but clearly still as soft as usual. William's disheveled appearance was a rarity, but also something that anyone who could appreciate beauty, would cherish.

William's eyes almost lit up as he stood before the equally stressed (name), then grew slightly concerned "(Name)? How was the ball? Did everything go to plan? You didn't face any issues, did you mfh—!”

He was cut off by (name) tugging at his tie, pulling him in for a kiss as she slowly backed into William's room, through the door way. A soft gasp could be heard in the silent corridors. The blond was quick to reciprocate albeit surprised, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling (name) close to him causing her body to press against his, hesitant to allow himself to roam his hands over her body further.

A soft groan escaped his lips, William couldn't help but feel intoxicated by the woman. Perhaps it was the very faint and subtle taste of wine on her lips, but everything about her had left him wanting more, much more. After the last time she had caught him off guard with a kiss, he had felt so flustered that he couldn't face anyone for a while afterwards. If he were to receive more, he didn't know how overwhelmed he'd feel.

And yet there was something so comfortable with (name)'s lips against his, slowly moving his feet in time with hers as if they were dancing, she did look the part after all. (Name) reached over to shut the door, locking it shut, then retreating her hand to rest in his hair. She pulled him in closer, deepening the kiss as William's eyelashes fluttered, shutting his eyes slowly.

Her teeth gently bit down on his bottom lip, making William to moan quietly into (name)'s mouth as he parted his lips, allowing their tongues to intertwine. He squeezed gently on (name)'s waist through the fabric of her dress, causing her to tug on his blond locks roughly eliciting another sound from her husband.

(Name) reached her fingers down to his lower torso, unbuttoning his waistcoat and sliding it off as they continued. A pale hand reached over to the bed post, fingers clenching around the wooden surface, usually subtle veins pulsing against soft skin, in order for the male to keep himself composed. (Name) moved a hands to press against his chest, allowing the blond to fall down onto the bed, his back pressed against the soft mattress.

His mind was clouded, as usual when it came to (name). William's thoughts often became full of her. Her voice, her face, her figure..everything. (Name) pulled away as she climbed onto him, her hands still on him, although not moving.

"We shouldn't be doing this, should we?" She whispered, her brow furrowed in concern.

The sentence held multiple meanings. For one, she saw it as a breach of contract although there wasn't anything specific about private intimate relations but it was assumed that such activities wouldn't occur. Another reason for her hesitance would be that she felt so conflicted ever since this attraction to William had come to the surface. She was meant to be his rival, even if the title had faded a bit since their graduation, and rivals did not show affection to one another.

William reached his left hand up to cup (name)'s cheek, bringing her face closer to his, their breath mixing and their hearts beating together at a rapid pace. "Then tell me you want to stop and that can be the end of it."

(Name) shook her head, her face slightly hesitant. "no..I want to...as long as you're okay with it, of course."

William reached his hand over to her upper back, his fingers dancing around the exposed skin as (name)'s breath hitched and finally taking the zipper, ready to pull it down. "(Name), my angel, do you not realise I would love nothing more than to make love to you?" He pulled the zipper down at an excruciatingly slow pace, leaving it half way "Although I would appreciate knowing what brought this sudden burst of affection about.." he trailed off

"Let's just say I wish to consummate this marriage for the sake of both our futures and plans…after hearing a few rude rumours at the ball, I couldn't help but-" she paused, her voice almost completely silent, trying to find the right words to say. Her hand was resting against the side of William's cheek, who lifted her right hand over to his lips, the looser parts of the fabric on the finger of her glove taken between his teeth so (name) could pull off her silky red glove, and then remove the left one as her right hand reached over to his loosened red tie. "You understand, don't you?"

"When have I ever not understood?" There was a hint of smugness in his words, but he was right. Even if it had felt like for the longest time, (name) was alone in her thoughts, William would always be there to understand, even if it was difficult.

With a deft motion of his nimble fingers, William pulled down the zipper on the back of (name)'s dress, slowly sliding the garment down her figure. A wave of nervousness had washed over her for a second but was quickly cut off by William pressing his lips to hers, noticing her hesitation, as if reassuring her this was all fine.

He pulled away with almost swollen lips, whispering as he looked up and down (name)'s half clothed body, his expression mesmerised. "You're so beautiful, (name)..every part of you.”

Her face flushed for a moment, usually her brows would have furrowed she'd avert her gaze, muttering some sort of response through her embarrassment. She had been called beautiful before, usually by disturbing older men, but when William called her that, there was a strange fluttery feeling running through her veins. But instead of getting visibly embarrassed, she leaned down to kiss him once more, their hands entangled.

William pulled a hand away to bring itself to (name)'s back once more, pulling her body closer against his. His wife rested her face in the crook of his neck, pressing kisses to the exposed skin followed by little red stains, which eventually grew into soft nibbles and then eventually a harsh bite on his neck.

"A-Ah...(name).." the blond moaned quietly, although the pitch of his voice was much higher than usual, as she unbuttoned his shirt, her eagerness giving away her desire to have him all to herself. The sensation of her teeth grazing against his skin was exhilarating. William’s hands desperately reached to (name)’s thighs, gripping at the skin above her stockings to keep himself from completely submitting to her bewitchment.

With a satisfied smile she removed the crumpling shirt, ready to continue as her hands roamed over his chest, William's grasping restlessly to unlace her corset with a whimper. (Name)'s smile widened at the sight of such a calm man looking (and sounding) so erotic. His forehead had already grown slightly sweaty and his hair was even more of a mess than earlier. His face flushed pink. His pupils were more dilated than usual and his bottom lip was quivering if not bitten.

"We must make haste, sweet William, and although I do wish to take it easy, we do have business to attend to in a few hours, that’s alright with you, isn’t it?” She asked to which he nodded meekly.

(Name) had awoken with a groan a few hours later, almost instantly recollecting the events moments prior. Heat rose to her cheeks as her hand rose to her mouth, mostly in surprise at what she had done but now having to deal with the consequences of her irrational behaviour.

As if to make matters worse, she had only then realised that there was the sound of soft snoring beside her, the body so close she could hear its heartbeat in rhythm with hers.

“That was amazing—..Are you not going to leave?”

(Name) looked at Theodore in confusion as he lay back down in his bed from previously hovering above her. Could he not at least give her a moment to change into appropriate attire?

“But I’m tired..I’ll leave in a few moments, I promise,” She negotiated.

She had only agreed to engage in such an act with Theodore so she would have the opportunity to explore his family residence, and even if she wasn’t making quite the risk just for a personal mission, this was certainly no way to treat a lady after ‘deflowering’ her. He was going to make it so much easier for her to kill him.

The noirette groaned and rolled his eyes as he turned on his side, away from (name) who had sat up beside him. “If you insist…be quick about it though. We don’t need to get caught by a stupid maid or something. Out the window, not the door.” He instructed clearly annoyed at the teenager who could only look at him dumbfounded. Love certainly didn’t seem to exist amongst the nobility if they were all like this. How many women had this bastard been with anyways?

“Right..” she muttered, wincing as she stood up, collecting her garments to quickly put on before leaving. She had looked a mess and felt so internally too. (Brothers name) wouldn’t have wanted this. Thankfully Theodore was usually quite discreet with his relationships so her peers wouldn’t know, she had one individual in particular she would rather not know of the encounter.

He turned over to look at the girl once more before he dosed off, completely bare. He seemed to have remembered to tell her something. “Oh, almost forgot. You’ve gotten chubbier since we first met, (last name). Make sure to lay off the teatime snacks, hm?” He hummed, somewhat mockingly.

(Name) had felt strangely hurt by the comment but nodded before taking off through the window, despite initially wishing to stay.

She could see, although her vision was still adjusting, a tuft of blond hair, somewhat covered by her own, brushing against her upper neck as she lay on her back. So that was why the snores sounded so clear, and loud despite being so gentle. (Name) had felt the urge to take off to her own room, maybe scream into a pillow if she had the chance, but those thoughts were quickly put to a halt when she heard a murmur of her name against her neck.

Lying beside another person was always quite a vulnerable position to be in, and even more so after committing such an act, so to be beside William in state like hers felt..foreign, as ironic as that was. She moved over slightly, allowing William some space but was quickly brought back with an arm around her waist.

"Don't leave.." the blond managed to say, his voice hoarse and tired. His eyes were still shut but he was clearly awake. (Name) kissed the top of his head hesitantly, bringing a finger to trace around a newly former bruise on the man's neck. She felt a groan tickle against her skin, prompting William to open his eyes and look into (name)'s.

She hadn't notice until that night how truly beautiful his eyes were up close. They were always very nice but to see them in such detail was so endearing. She hadn't seen anyone with red eyes before but then again, William was always quite unusual and so was his appearance, in a strangely gorgeous sort of way, of course.

He lifted his head up so his chin rested against her collarbone. (Name)'s brought her hand to his face, cupping his cheek as she wiped his lips with her thumb. "Are you feeling alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?" She asked

William gave her a nod "I'm fine..are you?"

She repeated the motion, running her fingers through his hair affectionately, earning a smile from her husband who leaned into her touch. "Are you sure you haven't ever..." she paused "...before?"

"Why? Was I that good in your eyes?" He asked teasingly

"Perhaps..I find it hard to believe you hadn't at least tried earlier in your youth..most boys would have, especially given the freedom of university." (Name) said, reminiscing all the times she had seen the boys at university sneaking random women away. She hadn't stayed in one of the dorms because as a woman, there were none available. She was grateful to an extent. God knows what would have went on in those dormitories.

"You think I'm a rake of some sort?" William asked as he tilted his head in both curiosity and amusement

"Well, most of my initial thoughts of you have been proven wrong some time ago. I suppose that's one of the few things I've ever been wrong about." She said with a mischievous smile "But you certainly did surprise me, especially when you—"

(Name) was cut off by William pressing his lips to hers, then pulling away with a slightly flustered smile. The tips of his ears were pink and his face was a little flushed in embarrassment, daresay, it was almost cute.

“You did say we have business to attend to, didn’t you, dear?” William asked as he sat up, causing (name) to do the same. He kissed her forehead gently. “I’ll help clean you up and then we should be off, alright?”

Later that morning, after securing Irene Adler and witnessing a clever stunt pulled by none other than Sherlock Holmes, (name), William, Albert, Louis and Irene Alder had all visited Director Holmes to confirm the ‘success’ of their mission.

Following William’s dissection of the special document, in which was written that the British had an involvement in the French Revolution, as if it were a social experiment to find out what would happen following an abolishing of the monarchy, the ‘James Moriarty’ team had revealed themselves and their plans as the lord of crimes, which had obviously included (name) who was yet to make an appearance.

“Indeed, our final act will be like Robespierre’s.” William concluded, a fist to his chest in patriotic allegiance “We alone shall be the Authors of our demise”

“That is our plan, Director Holmes. What do you say?” Albert asked, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

Mycroft sighed at the brothers. “First you use my brother to expose the corruption of the nobility, then you set yourselves up as a common enemy for this nation..this plan shall only come into fruition with the greatest sacrifices from you, but this is something the three of you are capable of..your resolution to sacrifice yourselves for this country is quite patriotic, I cannot deny that..” He clenched his fist “I will tolerate as long as it is in the interest of Great Britain..in other words, as soon as I have found you have betrayed this trust and misused your privileges, I will be the one to personally annihilate you! That you can be sure of! And as for you—!”

As if a paranormal being had appeared from behind him, The Director instinctively turned around to see a familiar woman brushing her hand over a short bookcase as she walked towards the group.

“Of course you’re involved, (Name) (Last name),” He glared at the noblewoman who smirked in response.

“It’s been a while, Director Holmes.”

#—false lovers 💋#moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #mtp william #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader

36 notes · View notes

arecomicsevengood · 5 months

Text

Jack Cole's Plastic Man

I recently discovered that some volumes of the Plastic Man Archives, those fifty dollar hardcovers issued by DC, can be had for fairly affordable prices these days. I had always heard that Jack Cole was one of the few Golden Age cartoonists whose work held up - Some would advocate for Will Eisner's work on The Spirit, but Cole's work, being more explicitly comedic seemed like it might come closer to E.C. Segar or other strip cartoonists whose work I know to be enjoyable. I'd read a little bit of Plastic Man before - his origin story, as reprinted in Jules Feiffer's The Great Comic Book Heroes, is not that impressive, but is ingrained in my memory due to poring over that book at my grandparents' house as a kid. I also know that I read the Art Spiegelman and Chip Kidd Jack Cole And Plastic Man: Forms Stretched To Their Limits book but that was much later in life and so I don't remember the stories reprinted nearly as much as I recall the Chip Kidd of it all: The scans from newsprint, the ephemera. There are only a few complete stories in that book.

I do wish there was a single volume best-of, in an affordable softcover, rather than a series of eight hardcovers, committed to completism. There are also now four softcovers, put out by PS Artbooks, that reprint four issues of the Plastic Man series at a time - I believe there is some overlap with the archives in the first two of these volumes, but that with the third they get to reprinting material DC didn't get around to. I also believe that PS follows the "scanning from old issues" method preferred by Spiegelman to the "restored and made crisper" approach seen in the DC Archives books. I don't know, of course, if my personal taste in what I think is the strongest material would align with that of the editors of a hypothetical best-of. I'm sure there are great discrepancies between my taste, those of an editor at DC Comics, and Art Spiegelman's when it comes to contemporary work, but I would also like to think that, when evaluating work from the 1940s, our collective tastes would approximate those of the theoretical modern reader. I believe we'd all agree that The Granite Lady, from Volume Five, with its reoccurring gags of men being suicidal due to a beautiful but indifferent woman, or the same volume's Thinking Machine, with its prefiguring of AI played for laughs, constitutes top-shelf material. Volume 3 is a little more consistently high-quality than volume 5, but not by much.

But beyond selecting the stories that hold up as comedy, that are able to maintain a certain velocity, there is the cartooning itself to observe the oddity of. There is a peculiar way these panels move from panel to panel, which is abnormally solid: Often it seems like the figures are made of clay, and they and the camera are being moved around a stop-motion diorama. There's a way of foreshortening the bodies and backgrounds that gives the comics a sense that the spaces have been realized by the artist with perfect precision before he laid his pen to paper. This is most in evidence with Woozy Winks, Plastic Man's sidekick, a big fat guy wearing polka dots and a straw boater hat, but there is always a sense of solidity, of moving the reader through the space of the page by identifiable props. A big part of this is the gag of Plastic Man himself, how he disguises himself as an object then reveals himself later.

Cole shows Plastic Man stretching within the panels themselves, which are set out in a standard three-tier page. He doesn't go for wacky byzantine dynamic layouts that have Plastic Man moving throughout the page. There is something inherently deadpan or understated, which is both a big part of why these comics work and something that people trying to adapt Plastic Man to a more traditional superhero comics framework miss. Plastic Man is now owned by DC Comics, and when he shows up as a character, he is played as zany, while the sense of humor in Cole's comics is situational and occasionally dark. In a non-Golden Age context, it makes sense to play the character for what he can do visually, but playing the cartooning broader leads to different calculations as to how the timing would work.

There are other factors in play as to why later incarnations may not work as well. Over time, the idea of a humorous superhero veers into superhero parody, which then gives way to head-up-its-own-ass self-referentiality. This is a trap even very funny people can fall into. Jack Cole is simply telling stories, that require very little from the reader in terms of background knowledge they need going in, and he elaborates on his basic premise, time and time again, becoming reliably entertaining. I don't think I need many more of these collections beyond the two that I have, but two volumes of classic comics is generally my limit: That's all I have of Carl Barks, Floyd Gottfredson, E.C. Segar, and Cliff Sterrett. Cole easily ranks among those guys, a great entertainer for a broad audience.

#Jack Cole

10 notes · View notes

filledtothebrimothy · 1 year

Text

Idk if this is ever talked about in the fandom but I think some really interesting parallels between Atsushi and Akutagawa are actually the people who took them in- the orphanage headmaster and Dazai respectively- and how they were pretty damn similar (at least at the time)

First of all, both Atsushi and Akutagawa both had little to no connection with their parents. They’re never mentioned because neither of them really knew them in the first place.

And then, both the headmaster and Dazai “saved” them from their shitty living situations (the word “saved” being in quotes because Atsushi and Akutagawa were simply moved from one shitty situation to another). The headmaster said things like “Compared to what your parents did, this hardly even counts as abuse,” maybe trying to justify his actions, and Dazai promised to give Akutagawa a reason to live, which made Akutagawa’s mental state pretty much dependent on Dazai.

Dazai physically and mentally abused the hell out of Akutagawa, as did the headmaster to Atsushi, while both simultaneously taking up this role of “caretaker” for them. The one main difference between them was that Atsushi actively hated the headmaster. And then there’s Akutagawa, who, as we all know, practically revered Dazai and did everything to get his acknowledgment, his approval.

And an impact I think these different outlooks had on the two boys was how they each treated Kyouka.

Atsushi knew how awful abuse was and viewed the way he was treated in a negative light, so he wanted to save Kyouka from the abuse she was facing. But with Akutagawa, he viewed the way he was treated in a positive light (for the most part, anyway), and so of course he’s going to try to treat Kyouka the way Dazai treated him. Most importantly, Akutagawa tried to give Kyouka a reason to live. Moreover, he thought her reason to live was simply to be an assassin as her ability was perfect for bloodshed, which is what he thought was his own reason to live given to him by Dazai (even if Dazai had tried to tell him it’s stupid to only use his ability offensively).

Something I also think about is how Dazai joined the mafia for his own reason to live, promised one to Akutagawa which became why he joined the mafia, and then Akutagawa tried to push that trend onto Kyouka

While Dazai gave Akutagawa a reason to live, the headmaster made Atsushi want to prove he’s worthy of living. Obviously, the Guild arc points out the rift this creates between Atsushi and Akutagawa and their motivations (even if this was from before Akutagawa’s past was shown).

Now, back to the actual topic at hand after going off on a sort of side tangent, there’s one more thing that makes the headmaster and PM Dazai parallels is their own backgrounds and how they affect how they treat Atsushi and Akutagawa.

Now, if I’m being completely honest, I don’t feel like rereading the chapter that described the headmaster’s past nor do I have the energy right now to look at his wiki (it is currently 3:22 AM as of writing this sentence), so I’m just gonna be going off my memory. BUT.

If I remember correctly, the headmaster was raised in an orphanage himself, and one that was in WAY worse conditions than the one he ran. Imagine the abuse the kids at Atsushi’s orphanage felt but worse. Then there’s Dazai, who was taken in by Mori of all people after a failed suicide tempt as a young teenager. Mori abused Dazai (more mentally than physically), and kinda… yknow, corrupted him.

So, both the orphanage headmaster and Dazai came from places where they were victims of the own abuse they committed.

#This was a lot longer of a ramble than it should’ve been but oh well #bsd dazai #bsd akutagawa #bsd atsushi #orphanage headmaster #i hate the headmaster btw #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungo sd #bsd analysis #dazai and the headmaster are basically the same person but dazai solos

28 notes · View notes

singlecrow · 1 year

Text

I'm going to treat myself and do that thing where you write about your five favourite stories of your own (of the moment). why the hell not.

everything we do is sewn with this colour [DS9] A late-seasons DS9 Julian/Garak story with a very simple premise: Garak teaches Julian to sew. It takes time for Julian to learn, and during that time, the two of them go from being awkward and unhappy friends with benefits to being in a functional romantic partnership. The idea, of course, is that Garak can sew - he's a tailor, he runs a tailoring business, people get married in the dresses he makes - and in a way, this is the only way Julian can be sure Garak isn't lying to him. If Garak teaches him to sew, then it's because Garak really knows how to teach him. It's my only real Julian/Garak, and honestly I don't think I need any more: this is how I see it going. It's also got Miles, Keiko and Kira as a functional triad in the background, because I know what I like. My one grief about this story is that I don't think Phoebe, purplefringe, my beloved Julian Bashir superfan, ever read it.

some things you just can't speak about (wherever they come from, they'll never run out) [DS9/MASH] This is the most fun I've ever had writing anything, ever. Like, somehow I'd never done a MASH Star Trek AU (I have Star Trek AUs for nearly every non-SFF fandom I've ever done, including Sports Night and Master and Commander), but it didn't click until I realised it was a story about the Dominion War, and then suddenly it's a DS9 AU and it's my two favourite things mashed (lol) together. So this! Hawkeye, though not the protagonist, is very much the main character: they're a nonbinary half-Betazoid, still bipolar, still brilliant, still a walking fuck-you to authority. I made no changes at all to the canon version to make them nonbinary, or an actually-psychic empath. (The screaming! I think some ppl thought I had made up the scene where Hawkeye screams in their sleep enough to wake up everyone in the habitat. Nope, the tv one does that, and he isn't psychic.) The only real change to this Hawkeye is that they're ship's CMO - so they do, sometimes, have to give orders. They don't like it, but they do, and in so doing have to betray their competence (love ppl being competent). And also, they wear the Starfleet uniform dresses, because I could not with how cute that would be. I never said in the story that they were afab, but I assume they were just so they'd be shorter than Margaret.

The other thing here is, the tension between Hawk and Margaret in the show is gender. Margaret would thrive, if she could do what Hawkeye can do - if she could be a soft-edged man who gets respect from nearly everyone for his ability and competence, who sleeps around nd never has it damage his reputation. But he can do that, and she, a woman in the 1950s, can't. Instead, she gets harassed and socially punished every time she steps out of line, though fundamentally she's nothing different from him. But Star Trek doesn't have that gender tension, so instead we have Margaret as Bajoran, who doesn't have Hawkeye's privileges as a Federation citizen. And it's the one rift in their otherwise extremely loving best-friends-with-benefits relationship. (my fave! their canon relationship, my favourite in fiction, probably).

BJ, bless him, is exactly unchanged: his role in the story is to observe the others. Even Potter, a female half-Vulcan who tolerates no crap who I enjoyed enormously. Anyway this story is 40k! longer than any other fanfic of mine and probably always will be because I can't imagine anything else being as fun.

a girl wild and unwished for [MASH] Ah. So, it's 1957 and it's not fun. Hawkeye is in his mid-thirties, and he's fine, except one night he's not: following an intense depression, he tries to commit suicide and is stopped barely in time.

Which is a hell of a beginning to a story, and honestly I feel a bit conflicted about it; I've been unhappy for years about how (some bits of) fandom went from to "you should content-note this content" to "you shouldn't make this content". When this sort of thing is so often my subject matter, it often does feel like fandom doesn't want my fiction and it legit was part of the reason I shifted towards pro. But that's by the bye, and I'm trying to write what I want to again. So in this story, Sidney is so worried about Hawkeye's mental state that he persuades him to try psychoactive medication for the first time. And the story becomes, in its way, a retelling of The Bell Jar with Hawkeye in place of Esther Greenwood: so about life and friendship, about New York in summer, about Hawkeye's work and place in the world, all muted and sharpened and modulated by the effect of the drug. Of course it's about Hawkeye's manic depression, but it's also about who he is; about what he can concede of his mind and personality, and what he can't. I was really pleased with this one. Despite the description, it does have jokes in it.

who were captured, who would not yield [Good Omens] A Good Omens story written just after s1, in the summer of 2019. That feral Good Omens summer! That summer where everything was still perfect and beautiful! I remember writing this by hand on the train to Cardiff to Vidukon, to P's endless amusement. The story isn't a romance - Aziraphale and Crowley have sex in it, for purely pragmatic reasons - but a story about what they do now they're not on opposite sides or on sides at all. Like in all my GO stories, they go to Waitrose, as follows:

Everything is fine. Crowley is definitely not having a breakdown in Waitrose.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says, by the self-service checkouts. “You were supposed to get an avocado pear.”

“Damn your avocado, angel,” Crowley says, trying not be actively diabolical in all directions. The next customer is buying strawberries, whipped cream and WD-40 – it’s a Friday night – and Crowley can make out the scent of unhappy dairy. Everything’s fine. He’s definitely not having a breakdown. Much more of this and there’s going to be an unexpected fire in the bagging area.

in the chillest land on the sea [the Magnus Archives] Until recently this was my longest story on the AO3, because it was co-written with dearthoughthenightisgone (imperfectcircle on the AO3 because of their godawful brand management). It's a very complex Magnus Archives story, where the basic premise is that all the while Jon is accumulating the statements belonging to the fears to go into the Archive, there is one additional power that we don't see: hope, at the bottom of Pandora's box. So every so often he gets a hopeful, happy statement, and eventually - the day in the Scottish cabin where it all goes wrong - the assistance of the hope power makes things go a little differently. I love this story. We had to write the statements! There are five of them and each one is a little standalone work of original fiction. And the two of us are pretty good at jamming together our disparate styles and themes and doing something good with them, but this one was hard - they wanted a happy ending, I wanted a bleak ending, we had to thread that needle. But I think we did it well, because this is the story where I get the most consistently overwhelming and sweet comments, people who read the story while a beloved family member was ill, or when locked down with covid, and took a little comfort from it. There was fanart! It was something special.

meditations ex post facto [Guardian] This is allegedly a Guardian AU. (Guardian is a fantasy cdrama about a guy called Zhao Yunlan who runs a paranormal investigatory agency, and his lovely boyfriend, who is both a local academic and, uh, a mysterious ancient ghost king.) What this is actually is a romantic comedy with lawyers. It's all I want in life. I wrote the entire first half of it in the Apple store in Covent Garden waiting for my updates to install. This is the best bit in it.

Zhao Yunlan can’t actually blame her, because he’s never been any good at hiding his feelings and he’s kind of composing an email to Shen Wei in another window. Deaaaaar Professsssor Sssshen, he writes. The spilled latte from the other day has made itself at home in his keyboard. Zhao Yunlan painstakingly scrolls back and deletes all the extra letters. I reaaaaally want to see you again pleaaaaaaassse come to dinner with me.

Not at all weird.

Shen Wei, I was planning to go for noodles tonight. Perhaps you’d like to accompany me.

Weirdly formal, but better. He presses send before he realises that “planning” still has two extra As and a stray Z.

#mash #deep space nine #good omens #guardian #the magnus archives

13 notes · View notes