#or take inspiration to further enrage the clean up crew

[loadinghellsing]

the comedic potential of anderson not knowing that alucard is vlad lll dracul and finding it out is severly under-recognized and im glad you’re exploiting it

Half the reason I love Anderson as much as I do is due to his room being covered in books - and for the refrence to Mars. The thought of him being a major history & mythology geek gives me life. So him finding out Alucard is Vlad? Fights momentarily put on hold- We've got a first person resource on the 15th century to interrogate-

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of August 21st, 2019

Best of this Week: Superman: Year One - Book Two - Frank Miller, John Romita Jr., Danny Miki, Alex Sinclair and John Workman

Superman has always stood for Truth, Justice and the American Way. 

This has never been more true (arguably) than right here in Superman: Year One, where Clark Kent becomes a US Navy Sailor. I briefly touched upon it at the end of the last issue, but this one really resonated with me in a way that no comic has in a little while. Other books have made me feel feelings of fear, disgust and elation beyond compare, but this one makes me feel the bittersweet memories of my own experience.

I remembered my first haircut, carrying my seabag across the base, marching and all of the PT (physical training) that I had to endure for those grueling two months. Clark isn’t fazed by any of it. It takes a few clippers to cut his dense hair. He breezes through the PT, noting how hard it is for everyone else to do and when he has to qualify for using a pistol, he hits the mark dead center every single shot. There were a few superstars like Clark when I was in boot camp and seeing that written and excellently drawn by John Romita Jr., made me feel something of a kinship to one of my favorite heroes.

You can see the struggle in his shipmates faces as they sweat and heave with Clark monologuing in his mind that he can hear their lungs about to burst or their legs about to give out. That shit was me. Every single PT test leaving me winded, marching at a double time… I hated every second of it. But through all of it, I felt proud. I wanted to get through, to push myself harder than I ever could. 

Clark doesn’t feel that. How could he? He’s an alien from another planet with abilities beyond compare and he could do anything he set his mind to. But what does he choose to instead? He answers the call of duty, he chooses to serve his country and his fellow man. It’s ridiculous, but at the same time absolutely commendable and inspiring. If I were to level criticism at the first two acts of this book, however, it would definitely be the lack of real feeling of camaraderie that Sailors feel together in Boot Camp. Never once do we see Clark interact with his shipmates in any meaningful way, aside from his Captain later on. The feeling of pride is there, but the friendships and relationships that come with it does leave a little bit of the story feeling hollow in favor of a less than great, but still good subplot later.

Another problem I have is… I don’t know how accurate print media and comics are allowed to be with military rank and titles, but Kurtzberg is supposed to be a Captain, but wears the insignia of a Petty Officer Second Class and Chief Petty Officer at two separate points. It’s a mildly irritating and nitpicky thing, but what can you do?

Of course, Clark's path diverges greatly from my own. A little bit before the pistol qualification section, he gains the attention of a Captain Kurtzberg and after his perfect scores, he's allowed to try out his skills further with an assault rifle, which he also excels at. Kurtzberg recommends him for more advanced training and soon after, he trains to become a Navy SEAL. I don’t have a singular clue as to what the SEAL lifestyle is like, but training he’s made to endure is even worse, though you wouldn’t know it from how he reacts to it all.

It’s here at SEAL training that the first seeds of the subplot, later becoming the hook of Act Three are sewn. Clark begins to hear the calling of the sea. It’s something that some deployed Sailors still feel to this day, the Siren Song or Mermaid Call that drives most men mad with how beautiful their voices are. Kurtzberg calls Clark out during one evening of PT and makes him to push ups on the shore of the beach after Clark tells him that the Captain should see how pretty “they” are. Unable to sleep during the night, Clark sneaks out of his barracks to watch the beings on the coast when Kurtzber appears next to him, warning him to not tell anyone about what they’ve seen as Kurzberg too knows of their beauty and the world of wonders that they live in. 

If you’ve been reading Superman stories for a long period of time, things may start to click as what or who may be calling Clark. After our hero accidentally starts a bar fight while trying to defend the honor of a woman, he’s punished by having to use his toothbrush to clean the head (bathroom) and garbage cans. After finishing his chores way into the night, he makes a dummy in his rack (bed) and sets off to explore the sea, taking to the water like a fish since he doesn’t actually need oxygen. 

He follows the sounds of the voices calling and finally see them, Mermaids, laughing at this strange human. One in particular catches his eye, Lori Lemaris, one of Superman’s original love interests from the late 1950s. He follows her as she laughs, until her voice turns to tears, seeing a submarine having crashed into their city. In one of his first of many acts of heroism, Clark lifts the sub off of the city, saves the people and helps them rebuild just before Morning Colors. Lori begs him to stay, to become her husband and King, but he tells her that the people up there need him, but that he will be back. As always, Clark is torn between two worlds, but his first thought is always to honor his commitments because he’s such a good guy.

Romita Jrs art shines best in these few pages for me. Lori is absolutely beautiful, playful and the visuals of the underside of the ocean are stunning. Everything’s a beautiful hue of blue except for the vegetation and Lori, who’s colored with yellow and purple clothing. Clark looks amazingly strong and happily curious as he saves the people of Atlantis. Romita Jrs. lines are amazingly crisp and he makes great use of only a few hatch lines to shade things. Everything is thoroughly enjoyable to look at, even the way that everything flows under the water is awesome.

Clark manages to return back to the barracks just in time as Kurtzberg watches on, knowing where Clark’s been and thinking to himself that the young SEAL better keep those memories clean and pure because he’s witnessed something amazing. He swam with the angels. There’s a three page long training montage where Clark shows just how efficient he can be in combat, embarrassing one of his shipmates so hard that he’s pulled aside and given his first assignment.

Things take a dark turn as Clark and his team are made to infiltrate a ship that’s been hijacked by pirates. During the training, as Clark thought to himself just how easy it would be to kill, he started to get a pit in his stomach. Things weren’t sitting right, especially as Kurtzberg egged him on by saying, “That there is how to kill a man good!” This stuck with Clark as he did his bet to avoid killing any of the hijackers. He saw how monstrously they murdered the crew of the ship and he felt himself getting more angry, but he still couldn’t bring himself to take a life. 

Things reach a head as the team reaches the control deck and Clark still refuses to kill any of the enemies. Kurtzberg lambasts Clark and orders to give him some corpses, until one of the hijackers pulls out a grenade. Everyone starts to panic as the mission goes FUBAR, but Clark utilizes his strength to stop the grenade, subtly, making it seem like it was a dud. 

While he ended up saving the lives of his fellowsailors, his reckless actions reward him with an honorable discharge. Kurtzberg advocates for him, but ultimately Clark has to pack his sea bag and say goodbye to his friends. Before he departs, he has something of a heart to heart with Kurtzberg. The Captain tells him to hone his skills, that he could do amazing things with his gifts and Clark salutes him, walking into the ocean to find his destiny.

The way this scene is framed, with the lighting indicating an early morning, makes everything seem like the future is absolutely bright for Clark. Having Kurtzberg abandon his badass attitude of authority and strength to give Clark advice while shaking his hand like a man is an amazing and heartfelt sight. For the first time, Clark doesn't have to try to lower his strength, it just comes naturally.

All of this is bittersweet. Clark Kent wanted something different than his life in Smallville. He knew that he would have to hide his abilities if he stayed, he knew that he could do so much more for the world. He chose to serve his country, one of the best things a Patriot can do, but his heart was too good for it. His skill and power raised him to a position that did not align with his own moral code. Clark would never kill, but no good deed goes unpunished.

The third and final act of this book comes with Clark returning to Atlantis, seeking out his new love, Lori. She reacts happily once she sees him again, calling him the love of her life and saying that he should meet her family. Then they… frolic in their special hiding place until the next day. She tells him to wear his best as he is to finally meet her father, Lord Poseidon. He emerges from the shadows in his iconic red and blue with fish swimming all around him and the flora lighting up in his presence. 

Poseidon isn't amused, seeing Clark as a little standing frog and proceeds to put Clark through impossible tasks to win his daughters hand. Clark begins to find the true scope of his powers as he concentrates and releases his heat vision on one of the enemies. It's a stellar display of power and control as Clark monologues that this fire inside of him was his and his alone. Alex Sinclair did an amazing job of portraying the ability and powerful it is with intense and vibrant reds.

Poseidon pulls out every stop that he can to try and crush Superman. He sends his best warriors, but Clark doesn't even acknowledge them trying to crush him. Stone automatons fall to his might. A giant squid swallows him whole and vomits him back up, unfettered by the stomach acid. Becoming increasingly enraged, Poseidon summons the Kraken and uses the fabled beast to try and crush Superman to death. 

As the tentacle lifts and Lori cries, thinking her one true love has died, Clark stands right back up with a smile. Lori jumps for joy, the people are stunned and in a silent rage, Poseidon calls off the Kraken and plots revenge on the frog that he couldn't crush.

Throughout this entire act, Poseidon monologues to himself about the bug that wouldn't be crushed or burned or destroyed in any way. Clark just smiled, snickered and mocked Poseidon the entire time. There was no malice in his smirk, just the boyish exuberance of love and youth. Poseidon though Clark wanted his crown, but really he just wanted Lori, a place to finally be himself and a peace of mind that he's never truly had.

Superman: Year One has been amazing thus far. While it's only a few peoples take on what would happen if Superman joined the military, I feel like it's a great and accurate one in line with who Superman would be as a man. Given the lessons that he'd learned from Pa Kent, how could we expect him to be ready to kill at any moment? Instead, we see his compassion for humanity shine through as he's even willing to preserve the lives of absolute monsters. 

John Romita Jr. captures the apathy of an effortless Clark in his early career, the wonder when hears the beautiful call of love from the sea and the conflict of a man caught between duty and morality. To say that this is some of his best art in years would be an understatement when it concerns this entire story. While the last issue focused heavily on the vast normality of the midwestern United States, this issue feels more tight and focused on the inner turmoil of Superman. The locales feel more linear, allowing us to explore more of Clark's own inner thought processes. He is surrounded by other strong men, but he is in a league of his own until he meets Lori.

Superman: Year One is a great journey of self-discovery. Other Superman stories have tried similar themes with varying degrees of success. Superman: Earth One went in the hard direction of Superman being an apathetic douche that knows he's a God and lowers himself to the level of men until someone bigger makes him want to protect the citizens of Earth. Superman: American Alien grounded Superman near as much as this book does, but what makes them different is the journey Clark takes to find himself.

This book warmed my heart something fierce with it's incredible storytelling and art. With issue two being this good, I can only hope that the next one will be nearly as amazing. Given that the preview of the next one shows Superman holding up the Daily Planet globe, we are absolutely going to be in for a treat. 

Highest of recommends.

[awriterincrime]

Committed : Part Three (Harry Hook)

Prompt : Aaliyah(reader), the daughter of Princess Tiana and Prince Naveen, is arranged a husband to maintain the legacy of Maldonia. What she didn’t expect was who she would be arranged with.

Warnings : Cursing?

A/N : So I somehow got chapter 3 done! I was actually inspired by a post I saw in the Harry Hook tag, and I make reference to it in the chapter! So if you want to see what imt talking about (its a map)) click here! It was someone else’s idea, so all credit goes to them ! I just adapted on it.And thank you to everyone who sends me lovely messages it honestly makes my week. If you like the chapter, please message me your feedback! What you like, what you don’t like, what you want to see in the next chapter. I need to know!

Part 1 / Part 2

Get out. Get out right now.

Those were the few words running through Aaliyah’s head as she frantically scattered the dark alleys of the Isle. She was cold, alone, and roaming one of the most dangerous islands to ever be inhabited. Fun.

Wandering alone in the middle of the night didn’t seem safe, but she didn’t have much of a choice. It was all a mistake, coming to the Isle to meet Harry. She should’ve listened to Evie and stayed with her on Auradon. Maybe she wouldn’t have been caught up in this mess. Her little adventure was over, and all she wanted was to be home.

Her whole body ached after the fight. A harsh pulse flew through each muscle in her body, and she had one agonizing headache. She never has to push herself that far in training with Lonnie, but a fight for her life was anything but a simple sparring match. Every step felt like knives being pressed into her skin, but she kept trudging on.

“Just get to the bridge.” She muttered to herself, dragging her feet from behind. If she could get to Auradon by morning, maybe she would be able to get to the dorms before Evie woke up and her little ‘adventure’ would be a distant memory.

Following some old signs to the Pier, Aaliyah found herself back where she had started earlier that day, yet something was missing.

“No, no, no.” Her soft cries grew into screams as she frantically searched for her bike she had left behind. Her plan to lock and hide it behind the dumpster has ultimately been foiled by someone pathetic thieves.

“Fuck.” There was no way she was getting home to Auradon anytime soon.

Being on lookout was one of the most annoying jobs for Harry. It wasn’t exciting or thrilling at all. Not like training where Harry was at his prime. Using his sword to fight off Gil, or terrorizing the new recruits that dared to come on the ship that day was the highlight of his day. But now, he was slugging across the Isle, just looking for trouble.

However, his focus wasn't on the job today, but a girl. Harry couldn't even help but drift his thoughts back to the stranger he had met the night before. No, not a stranger. Lia. He recalled every moment of her slicing at dangerous pirates with ease, and the way she looked at him when he stood close to her. His heart had never beaten so fast. He kept his confident facade on for her, but inside he was melting. She pulled him in, and didn’t know why.

He had stayed up all night, staring down the double doors of the Fish and Chip shop, anxiously waiting for her to step in. Imagining all the things he would say to her, the angry look in her eyes when she tried to fight him for her necklace back. He wanted that so badly, but had no idea why. It wasn't until Gil woke him from his unexpected slumber on one of the dining tables the next morning that he realized she was a no show.

He expected himself to be upset, angry even. How could his plan to lure her in not have worked? Maybe she had outsmarted him somehow and was planning her revenge. Either way, Harry was even more curious now.

Uma, however, was less than pleased. The word of another stranger roaming the Isle made her feel exposed, which was probably why she had sent Harry on lookout duty. He had shown Uma the necklace he had stolen from earlier, but she wasn’t merely as impressed. She took the locket for ‘safe keeping’, she told Harry. He didn’t mind though, the more he looked at it, the more he got lost in his thoughts and he didn't need the distraction.

And now here he was, stuck on the main pier of the Isle, staring at the grimy black water that surrounded them. The Isle was nothing spectacular, it was barely a home. It as a prison. It was no secret that everyone wanted off the Isle, even him.

Across that murky water was Auradon, the most beautiful place on Earth. At least, in comparison to the Isle.  Stories had been told about the beauty of Auradon. As a boy, Harry and his friends would pretend they could cross the bridge and live like true princes and princesses. But as years passed, he knew that dream would stay just a dream.

As he walked, Harry stumbled to the side, tripping over what he thought was a log on the sandy beach. He looked down to see a person, curled into a tiny ball. “Aye!” He shouted, moving to kick the still figure before quickly stopping himself. It wasn’t just any person, it was her.

“Lia?” Harry kneeled down to her sleeping body, softly tugging on the hem of her shirt. She shifted slightly under the newspapers that were covering her like a blanket. The Isle was freezing at night, and she was barely covered. Harry noticed her shoes and the cuffs of her jeans were soaked in mucky sea water, the crashing waves from under the pier must have hit her through the night.

“I don’t have any money,” She muttered in a sleepy tone, rolling over and turning her back to Harry. “Go away.”

Harry smiled to himself, tapping her sleeping body again, this time waking her.

Her body shifted again, this time sitting up from her slumber. She rubbed her sand covered face, her sleepy eyes meeting with Harry's. Her sand coated hair fell onto her shoulders, a knotted mess from her rough night. She was fairly pale from what Harry deduce as a lack of food and a proper sleep.

“Harry.” Her deadpan voiced brought the pirate back from his daze. She knew his name. “What do you want?”

“Lovely to see you as well, lass.” He mimicked her actions, standing up from the sandy beach. Harry’s eyes followed her as she stood from the dusty ground. The sight of her attempting to comb through her knotted mane with her fingers made Harry smile. How could one who has slept on the ground all night still look so astonishing? He pushed away the thought away with a shake of his head, feeling a bit dumbfounded by it.

“I’m disappointed you missed our date last night. You know it's rude to ignore an invitation.”

She brushed off her dirt covered clothes, responding to Harry with an attitude. “I don’t usually date guys who hold me captive.”

“From what I recall darling,” Harry said playfully, tapping her cheek lightly. “I saved you.”

She rolled her eyes, walking away from the pirate. She didn't seem to have any certain direction, just wanting to get away. Though Harry wasn’t going to let her go that easily. Quickly chasing after the mysterious girl, he rushed to her side, following in her quick stride.

It was strange to see someone so resistant to Harry's charm. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been able to allure women and men with it, but not her. He liked a challenge though, and she seemed to be one.  

“Why are you resting here?” Harry questioned, motioning to her temporary living space. “Surely the Doctor would find you something, eh?”

“I’m a big girl.” She growled, making Harry jump with delight.  “I can take care of myself.”

“I see.” Harry nodded, keeping in step with her quick stride. “So, where are you staying tonight?”

Her face folded as she tried to think of an answer, but Harry could tell.

“I'll just find another place to crash.” She seemed unsure about herself, but gave off a confident presence. “I'll stay at the Inn.”

Harry’s grin had formed into a frown at the mention of the Inn. It was a known spot for Sylvester’s crew, and if they attacked her once, they’d do it again. Harry's enraged instincts got the best of him as he stepped in front of Lia, stopping her in her tracks.

“No.” He grabbed the wrist of her sleeve, pulling her back into his chest. Her eyes gazing deeply into his made him almost speechless. He didn’t know why he had grabbed her, it was instinct. She was the first girl to ever make him nervous. Not even Uma made him feel this way.

“I mean, stay here.” He breathed, surprising himself with his force. “With me.”

He watched as her eyes widen, slowly processing this suggestion.

“No, thanks.” She scoffed, pulling her hand back from his grasp. “I'll take my chances at the Inn.”

Stubborn. He needed something to get her out of it. “Well, how do you plan to pay for your night with no money?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but soon realized her predicament. “I don't know...”

“Then, I don't believe you have much a choice, love.” He pointed to her soaked shoes and messy clothes.

She sighed, succumbed to his suggestion. “So where do you live?”

Harry’s quarters weren’t anything more than Aaliyah had expected. The room was small, grimy and old. It was barely a room, honestly. With only one porthole window that looked out into the horizon, a claustrophobic feeling was inescapable.

It was fairly empty, only a small bed, desk and a few of his belongings. His closet had some fairly ripped shirts and pants and a couple damaged swords from over the years. The dry smell of ship water and rotting fish had filled the room, making it harder to breathe. Aaliyah coughed at the feeling of dust filling her lungs as she stepped in the room.

“You would think the Captain’s donkey would have a better place to live than this.” Aaliyah quipped at Harry before entering the small barracks.

“I’m sorry the room isn’t up to your glorious standards.” Harry mocked, rolling his eyes as he pushed her further along into the room. “The cleaning lady missed her appointment last week.”

Aaliyah folded her arms against her chest, leaning her body against the splintered door frame. She watched as Harry walked around the room, placing his hook on a small broken desk. From the wear and tear of the place, it seemed he had been living in such a hovel for years now.

“So, am I to make myself at home?”

Harry grinned at her sarcasm, nodding his head. “This is home now.”

She frowned, her thoughts flashing back to her dorm in Auradon. “Well, I don't intend to stay long.”

“That's disappointing, darling.” Harry said with a familiar grin. “We were just getting acquainted.” He added, pulling off his large pirate coat and placing it in his closet, exposing his war torn skin.

Aaliyah’s eyes trailed on the injured pirates body. His thin white t-shirt could barely cover the scars that encased his bare skin. Mangled lines of inflamed and bruised skin traced the lines on his skin. Some cuts looked fresh, dried blood stains still brushing the surface. Other had history, or so she assumed. A large brown scar traced from the top of Harry’s shoulder to his lower hip, skeptically forming the shape of a hook. It was too deep for him to have done to himself, it had to have been someone else.

But what caught her eye was the tattooed map that covered his entire back. The map stretched across almost the entire world, or at least what had been discovered. She noticed small checks and X marks that she assumed marked sunken treasure. It was beautiful, stretching farther than anything the Isle and Auradon had ever seen.

“I could give you a picture if you want to keep staring, lass.” Harry spoke as he turned around, interrupting the silence. Aaliyah’s face flushed, turning her face away from his boasting smile.

“What’s the map for?” Aaliyah asked, trying to avoid further embarrassment. She watched carefully as Harry’s face fell. His childish grin had disappeared and was replaced with somber grimace. She could tell he was in deep thought as his gaze left hers, staring down at the creaky floorboards.

“It was my father’s.” Harry muttered, shoving his swords aside in frustration. “It was supposed to be his big score. Millions in gold pieces.”

“Ok, then where is it?”

“I don’t know. He never returned.” Harry sat down on his small bed frame, his arms resting comfortably in his lap. He was biting at his cheek nervously. He tried to hide the pain, but wasn't doing a very good job at it. She could tell he was recalling whatever memory over in his mind.

Slowly, she made her way over to him, placing herself beside his stiff figure on the bed. “What happened?”

“It was a trip gone bad. He had gone on so many others like it, but the storms were unforgiving that night.” Harry’s hands had clenched into a fist, his body softly shaking in pain.

“I was only a lad when he left. My mother had left years ago, it was just him and I. I told him, begged him not to go, but all he cared about was the damned treasure. It was supposed to set him for life. He was only supposed to be gone for two weeks, but no one has heard from him since.” His confident demeanor was far gone now, and an innocence had overtaken. Aaliyah felt she were talking to the small child Harry had described sadly sitting on the pier, waiting for his father to come home.

“Harry,” Aaliyah spoke soft enough for just him to hear. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, feeling his pain. “I’m so sorry.”

“Aye, I don’t need your pity, lassie.” He grunted, pushing her hand off his shoulder. She noticed the flush in his cheeks, and the redness in his eyes. “You asked. I answered.”

“Fine.” Aaliyah huffed, stepping away from the enraged pirate. The two stayed silent for a while. Aaliyah couldn’t tell if Harry was truly mad or just embarrassed by his vulnerability. It made sense to Aaliyah though. She felt strangely comfortable with the pirate, even with his hook to her throat. She felt safe.

Harry spoke first. “Where are you headed to in such a rush?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Nowhere certain.” A damn lie.

He nodded, seemingly skeptical. “That's too bad. The Isle would enjoy someone like you.”

“I'm surprised you would leave without your necklace, though.” Harry added. Aaliyah's hand traced up to her neck, feeling the empty spot that previously carried her locket. She had completely forgotten about it.

“Oh,” she paused. “Well, I could always come back for it.”

“Ah, so you wish to visit me again?”Harry said with a grin. Aaliyah rolled her eyes, shoving the pirate in the shoulder playfully.

“Only for the necklace.” She said sternly as Harry laughed, smiling at her.

“So,” Aaliyah started, clearing the strange tension in the air. “Where am I supposed to sleep?”

Harry patted softly on the creaky bed beneath him. “Right here, darling.”

“Oh no,” Aaliyah shook her head vigorously. “I'm not sleeping with you.”

“Well, I hadn’t asked but..” Harry’s eyes wandered up and down her figure before letting out a hearty laugh. Aaliyah crossed her legs in embarrassment.

“Gross.” She muttered, placing her hands on her hips.

“Aye, there’s always the ground, princess.” Harry joked, motioning toward the infested ship floor. Aaliyah could see the small bugs crawling in and out of the floorboards, and the dried blood stains that she wanted to avoid thinking about.

“God, I hate this.” Aaliyah sighed, quickly climbing into the twin bed, ducking under the thin sheet. Her back was pressed against the chipping wooden boards behind her. She could feel the soft push of the ocean waves against the  deck, slowly rocking her back and forth. It was soothing.

Harry fumbled around the room for a few more minutes, awkwardly adjusting clothes and miscellaneous objects in the room. It was obvious he was avoiding going to bed, which made Aaliyah laugh inside.

“Either get in the bed, or stop making noise. I’m trying to sleep.” Aaliyah said roughly, attempting to get comfortable on the worn bed.

Aaliyah heard a soft chuckle come from Harry before feeling the springy mattress move slightly, with Harry resting beside her.

He had turned his body to face Aaliyah, their noses barely brushed against each other in the small bed. He grinned as Aaliyah rolled her eyes, stuck staring at his charming face face.

She felt a flutter in her stomach for the first time she had been with Harry. Being so close, and intimate, she couldn’t help but admire everything about him. His chiseled body was pressed against hers, barely any room to move or breathe, but she didn’t mind. The urge to run her fingers through his luscious brown locks was almost overwhelming, she had to distract herself.

“So why don’t you wear an eye patch?” Aaliyah joked, breaking their silence. His eyes squinted at her in confusion for a mere second, before he chuckled giving her a grin.

“You’re an interesting las, Lia.” His smile was as radiant as before, but now more genuine. He wasn’t smiling for himself, rather for her. She smiled back at him, she couldn’t help it.

Her heart began to flutter as she felt the soft brush of Harry’s fingertips on her hands. His hands trailed her skin softly, like he was inspecting her. It seemed so natural though, as if he didn't even know he was doing it. Every touch left an electric feeling on her skin and made her want more.

“For a villain's daughter, you’re very proper, eh?” He raised an eyebrow at her. It was more of a question than a comment. Aaliyah had almost forgotten about her incredulous lie. It’s what got her stuck in this tiny bed in the first place.

“My father likes to be clean, even if he is a villain.” Aaliyah replied, another lie adding onto her list.

Harry nodded, his fingers still trailing up and down her sides. She didn’t mind it though, it was comforting, like home.He seemed to be lost in his touch, his eyes now shut, just following the rhythm of her skin.

“Harry?” Aaliyah said softly. He merely hummed in response, clearly drifting into sleep. Aaliyah brushed the soft brown curls out of his face instinctively. His face shuddered at the first touch, mostly in surprise. The touch became comforting after a while, she watched as he sunk into it.

“Yes, darling?” His voice was low and hoarse, drifting in and out of sleep.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For taking me in.”

Harry was silent. His eyes still shut and his fingers continued to dance across Aaliyah’s skin so melodically, it felt as if he were playing a beautiful lullaby. She watched a smile grow on his face.

“Promise me something.” He said quietly, only the sound of their soft breathing could be heard over the rushing waves beneath them.

Aaliyah hesitated, a bit surprised. “I guess.”

A long pause stood between them before Harry opened his piercing blue eyes to look back at her. “Don’t leave yet.”

A/n : It’s a little slow, i know. But I hope you liked it! And feedback always helps! I’m not sure if i should continue this, lemme know. c:

Taglist : @lyssafarnzie @tahreemhaq576 @booktvmoviefangirl @ronijdubb @emilielskov @bellisis @candyapplegirl @sorryyoureoutofmyleague @ilikechocolatemilkh @green-spotlight@asexualmarauder @ninquellote @spiderlingh @catcherintheclifford @thejourneyofabrokenheart@krazykat16 @callme-crowley @nitakali @badassbeckettswan @theladiesofliterature@princess7184 @magicandmystery @bellmorely @fandomrelative @lovepizza-cake11@myfavoriteimaginesblog @little-miss-quicksilver @tfandom101 @happytrekkieworld@dizzymemories77 @maddiiieeee1 @travelnottogoanywherebuttogo @heyya352 @frozenhuntress67@rebloggedimagines @youdrathetwatchatvshow @broadwaylover24601 @fulltime-fandomwriter @brittymolly @annabelle5724 @hufflepuffle97 @gucci-zjm

[hermanwatts]

The Shadow: Gangdom’s Doom

The Shadow cleans up Chicago in Gangdom’s Doom, the fifth Shadow novella.

Inspired by the April 1931 Chicago election, The Shadow takes on the crime empire of Nick Savoli, a thinly disguised stand-in for Al Capone. Gangland Chicago was a breeding ground for pulp stories, from Amusement, Inc. to Black Mask and a host of hero and detective pulps. But the editors thought that The Shadow needed a little more motivation to face their version of America’s first celebrity gangster: The order came from on high to writer Walter Gibson: The Shadow’s agent, Claude Fellows would die.

Fellows would be the first and only agent to fall in the pulps. And Gibson protested the decision. But the editors stood firm. The blow was softened as Gibson went to Bermuda, dividing his time between writing and running publicity for the magician Harry Blackstone.

Gibson would later recount how he turned the noisy Bermuda streets, complete with the hammering riveting of construction, into scenes in side alleys of Chicago, complete with Tommy gun fire. “It gave me jitters to walk past the Bermuda building, but it helped the story.”

Onto the story.

Claude Fellows has been assigned to investigate the Chicago mob. Soon after their talk, first, his contact, then Fellows himself are killed, with the latter falling in a Tommy gun drive by.

In response, The Shadow sends Harry Vincent to Chicago, where Harry works his way into the confidence of Marmosa, a gambling king. While Harry learns about the mob’s organization, from kingpin Nick Savoli down to the hired killers, the same killers burst into the gambling den.

The Chicago killers get into a firefight with New York thugs, including one Monk Thurman. They kill one of Marmosa’s guns before Monk Thurman drives them away. Suddenly, Thurman is of great interest to Marmosa–and to Savoli’s organization. Should they hire him or kill him?

A familiar felonious face, Steve Cronin from New York, meets with Marmosa’s henchmen and casts enough doubt on Thurman to convince Marmosa’s goons to kill the New York gunman. But when they call a meeting with Thurman to kill him, no one shows. Confused, Cronin and Marmosa’s henchman leave, unaware that, in secret, The Shadow is watching their every move.

Later, Cronin meets with mob boss Savoli, who tells him to murder Chicago’s most aggressive district attorney. But before Cronin and his crew can pull the trigger on their Chicago typewriters, The Shadow appears behind them and knocks them out.

When Cronin wakes up, he crosses paths with Harry Vincent, who resolves to settle the score from earlier adventures between them. Soon after, Savoli gives Cronin a way to redeem himself from the night’s failure:

Kill The Shadow.

Savoli then orders Monk Thurman to eliminate the Chicago killers who shot up Marmosa’s gambling den. Monk goes out and antagonizes a set of toughs, tricking them into ambushing the killers instead of ambushing him. The toughs go into hiding. Monk Thurman claims the deed.

The killings spark a whirlwind of schemes as Savoli uses the opportunity to further cement his authority over the Chicago underworld. Monk Thurman is to be killed to appease another crime lord. That is unless he kills The Shadow first.

The Shadow is everywhere during this exchange, listening in from secret passages, cackling to himself under hidden disguises. Now he reveals himself. The Shadow interrupts a dinner between Savoli and his crime lords, defying the mob boss to his face. The Knight of Darkness pronounces judgment on Savoli for his crimes and twice over for the men who killed on his orders. The Shadow escapes, untouched a hail of bullets.

Enraged, Savoli spends days setting his murderers after The Shadow, including Monk Thurman. But they aren’t the only ones watching the streets of Chicago. Harry Vincent is as well, and Cronin now suspects him to be working for The Shadow. Cronin takes his suspicions to Savoli, who hatches a plan.

Harry Vincent is captured and tortured, causing The Shadow to make his move. After rescuing his agent, The Shadow appears to be on a collision course with Monk Thurman. But Monk’s efforts are seemingly spent more in fraying the fragile peace in Savoli’s organization–accompanied by a familiar mocking laughter.

Savoli’s empire collapses in a week of brutal gang fighting. But The Shadow is not done yet, for he still has to bring Claude Fellows’ killer to justice. He distracts Savoli long enough for police to raid Savoli’s hideout. In the fight, Cronin is killed, and Savoli is arrested.

Gibson does a lot to make his story easy to read. This doesn’t mean simplified plots, flat prose, or childish vocabulary. Rather, he doesn’t get lost in exposition or distraction and makes it so the plot can be easily followed without telegraphing future events. Additionally, Gibson has perhaps the cleanest chapter organization so far in pulpdom. Each chapter can be summarized in a sentence but tells a miniature story in its own right. Unlike the hero pulps that would follow, Gibson’s prose is stylized but without all the gilt that imitators would tack onto the genre. And the tricks of the magician that Gibson was so fond of, especially misdirection, are prominent throughout the tale.

The Shadow truly owes a debt to Fantomas. Not just in the mastery of disguise, but the prose stylings are similar to those found in the French phantom villain’s dime novel adventures.

Like in the Argosy stories, the villains’ actions drive the story, not that of The Shadow or Harry Vincent. It’s almost alien compared to these days of limited 3rd-person POV. Although in the shadows and cackles, the reader can sense The Shadow’s schemes coiling around the mob occasionally striking through mistake identities and inciting mob on mob violence. It isn’t like he’s averse to using his automatics, but rumor had it that Street Smith did not want to ruffle the feathers of the mob by letting The Shadow cut loose.

So, did Claude Fellows need to die?

No. The Shadow already is an embodiment of vengeance, and, save for being the inciting action for The Shadow’s crusade, affected the story minimally. We never see into The Shadow’s thought, and he is such a mystery and an actor that we as the readers never get a clear glimpse into The Shadow’s thoughts and motivations. And for a series so dependent on mood and misdirection, there’s no need for such a glimpse to push the story forward. As such, Fellows’ death comes across as a cheap stunt at worst and a MacGuffin at best. Gibson was right to protest the editorial decree, but, as he was writing for hire, the decision was ultimately out of his hands.

But even with that compromise, The Shadow’s fame and sales continued to grow.

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