#this one i actually made months ago in a sort of fugue state

[grendelsmilf]

new amv dropped!! this one isn't particularly involved, but you know i had to make something focused on my girl nanami

[sonwar]

hello!! i would like to first preface that i'm a fan of your writing (ao3 user sonwar) from your kpop works (namely the seokhoon (seventeen) titled 'do you know my heart? (i can't be without you)' in 2020. and if i remembered you wrongly, and you have in fact never heard of this fic or the kpop group before please feel free to delete this ask i apologise deeply aaaaa (whoops ahahaaa im sorry if that's the case)

today. as one does, i was thinking of this fic: its definitely one of the bigger fics the seokhoon tag has seen, and also one of those fics which leave a kind of Impact. even as i ponder seokhoon today as a writer myself, i find so many of the symbols and metaphors i use in my writing to have come from that fic. (if you remember) the ideas of jihoon admiring seokmin's singing & calling him the best singer—i took that and i turned it into a kind of how jihoon's music has been made real vs seokmin's which comes more as instinct—and jihoon, who is in awe of this. and of course seokmin thinking about jihoon all the time—that's something that i genuinely hold so close to my heart. it's so sweet and just soooo seokmin. aaaaaa

your writing there has such a tender and sweet quality to it that ive been striving to achieve—emotion comes across in a way that is. muted (i mean this positively). i feel comfortable reading it because it never feels shocking everything just feels so natural. those 33k words are a source of comfort. i love and value growth in characters/the progression of time in fic, and oh man!!!! you really show the emotional growth of seokhoon so incredibly well in that fic. its so good to me. it feels so alive because of the references you made but also because of how you wrote them. to create life!!! it's so incredible because. its all just so rich and perfect and good and i'm so grateful that ive been able to read this and have it affect me on such a level. my comment on that fic does nothing to live up to what i actually thought of it and now even if i cant convey my appreciation on the fic comments itself, i tried to find another way to reach out to you (hence, this lengthy anon ask)

feel free to ignore this/not reply!!! i understand that you've orphaned the seokhoons for a reason but in a way i just really wanted to let you know that your writing has made me feel so much. and for that! i am so grateful!! thank you again and so much for all of it.

hi anon! you have me right, i am responsible for do you know my heart (as well as "when i'm with you i bloom" and "i'm dying to be taken apart" in case you were looking for me...) i had sort of decided i was going to keep my kpop fandom side off tumblr, since i have found it to be sort of unwelcoming towards kpop, for whatever reason? but your message was so touching i'm throwing that out the window and doing whatever i want anyway! (more under the cut <3)

Letting you know off the bat that your message made me! incredibly emotional and teary eyed! Thank you very much for your kind words, you really can't know how much it means to me, and I'm so glad you reached out to me this way as well! I genuinely got so excited when I read your ask, I'm always happy to talk fics and even more happy to talk seokhoon, as I don't have many people to discuss them with! So thank you! The reason why I orphaned my old fics is...probably a lot more simple than what you might be thinking? The truth is, after posting those three seokhoon fics (which I wrote in pretty quick succession to each other), I went about two years without writing anything at all because I didn't have the bandwidth for it, and then I wrote The Mystery of The Pears in some kind of fugue state over the course of a couple months, and when I read that back to myself I felt that my writing had grown so much, I didn't really want that writing to be associated with my writing of a few years ago. But, to be honest, I re-read my Seokhoon fics again a few weeks ago and found that I enjoyed them much more than I thought I would, and much more than I did when I first wrote them, so I wonder if it's less that my writing has grown and maybe more that I've learned to be kinder towards myself...that'll teach me to orphan fics without completely thinking it through first, I guess. (that being said! i'd like you to know i am still planning on writing more seokhoon! seventeen is very near and dear to my heart, like. i really can't put into words the love i have for those boys, which is to say that i'll probably be a carat for as long as they're seventeen, and maybe even a little longer than that. plus, i feel personally tasked with bringing more seokhoon into the world, so, you know. currently, i'm really trying to finish a seokhoon fic i promised a friend MONTHS ago, even before tmotp was finished, and then i have about...3? seokhoon wips i've started and would like to finish? whether they all get done is to be seen, but hopefully!) Anyway...I have to say, I really love the way you took my little headcanon about Jihoon admiring Seokmin's singing and devolped it further! It's something I think a lot about, too, I think it's so interesting that, objectively, Seokmin has a much wider range and capacity as a singer, but that ever since Jihoon was a trainee he's been told he "already knows how to sing" and "doesn't need singing lessons." It makes me wonder how Jihoon approaches singing, if it's something that he considers more physical, like a muscle that he can control, rather than something emotional, which I think might be closer to how Seokmin approaches singing. I mention this because, considering that Jihoon is also the one making guides for the others to follow and the one directing them in the recording booth, I'm a litte curious about how those different approaches meet together in a more practical way, if that makes sense. I do still think it's something Jihoon would admire and think about a lot if only because it would be so different from his own approach. I also have some theories about certain songs in their discography being written specifically for Seokmin's voice (Same Dream Same Mind Same Night immediately comes to mind, I really think out of all their songs, that's the one that showcases the style Seokmin's voice is suited to the most and he really shines on that song...)

I am of the belief that Seokmin would have been watching Jihoon a lot longer than Jihoon would have been watching him...something about admiration that shifts and changes the closer you get to it...And I don't think Seokmin knows how to not take care of people, it's just who he is, but I also think that feeling is heightened a little bit with Jihoon specifically, who takes on a lot of responsibility without ever complaining about it, and who describes himself as someone who deals with things on his own. I think (and I've seen him) he would try to find ways to make things easier for Jihoon without him having to ask for it first, so that's where that comes from. I think muted is one of the sweetest ways anyone has described the way I write emotions. I like the idea of emotions that come easily and gradually, like. Slow drip love rather than sudden and all-consuming (and, that way, when trying to convey something that is bigger and overwhelming, it's easier to contrast those two emotions against each other), so thank you very much for that. I also think it's very funny you mention the way I wrote the progression of Seokhoon in that fic because, while I find your words incredibly kind and I'm so happy to hear you enjoyed it, and I can still sort of see why I wrote that fic the way I did, I do sometimes consider sort of re-writing a different version of that fic because I'm so sure I could do it better now...nowadays, I think the timeline would be a little different? Idk. Something for future me to consider... Anyway! Thank you, again, for such a lovely ask, I really am so very thankful, and I'm so glad you enjoyed my Seokhoon. Please feel free to message me whenever you'd like! (I'm also on twt! I only use tumblr on browser so I only log on when I'm using my laptop, but I'm a lot more active on twt.) Also, if you ever post your fics or already have, please let me know! I'd love to read them, and I'm always looking for more Seokhoon fics, since there's so very little of them to go around, as I'm sure you know...

[random-imagines-blog]

Crash Love {Davey Havok x Reader One Shot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2822 Summary: You keep notebooks of your writing, sort of like journals. And the person that you write about the most happens to find one.

The water brushed up against the shore in light waves. It was a rather calm day in the late fall, so there weren’t many people actually out here on the beach today, which made it absolutely perfect. It was perfect sweater weather, your favorite cardigan wrapped around your body keeping the warmth in. You had taken off your shoes though, and were digging your toes into the cool sand. In the Summer, it was much too hot to walk across barefoot, but now, it was deliciously cool. Your favorite time of year. Your soy latte was beside you, having dug it into the sand so it wouldn’t fall over, and your notebook was on your lap - you felt like you were in your own little paradise, ready to forget about the world around you for a little while. Your best friend, the person that you were writing about in your notebook, wouldn’t be around for another hour, so you felt safe in putting your feelings down about him. He couldn’t try to peek at it, the way that he usually did.

You were even using a pen that he had gotten for you as part of your birthday gift. It wouldn’t be Davey if it didn’t have some sort of darkness to it. Rather than just being your average pen, it looked like skulls stacked on top of one another, but was surprisingly easy to grip.

The pages of the unassuming notebook were mainly full with all sorts of things. Poems, short stories, notes on things that you meant to write about but never got to do, even doodles. It had been your faithful companion for almost a year, and would need replacing within the month. There were only a couple of pages left. You meant to make them count. Once you were done with this notebook, it would be going straight into the lockbox under your bed, among the others from previous years. You didn’t have much of value except for your thoughts and your words, so they were the only things that took up the lockbox.

Putting pen to paper, you let the words flow. Many people, including past English teachers, had told you that you had a gift for words, and they had expected big things out of you. A best selling author or something among those lines, but you never quite lived up to those expectations. You preferred to keep your words private. Your own secret little pleasures.

‘Just as the waves pound against the shore, again and again I find it even harder that I am meant to pretend That my heart isn’t the sand, being pushed down hard By your smile, your eyes, which put me on guard California itself is cold when you leave it here alone I hide myself in sweaters which you have outgrown You go around the world like a bird spreading wings I watch you on TV and miss the little things Like the way your piercing hits my cheek when we hug Or the way your cologne keeps me in a state of fugue’

You left it there for now. It wasn’t as happy as some of the other things that you wrote, but knowing that he was going to be taking off for a tour in Europe hurt. And you would have to pretend to be happy for him and all of his success. You were immensely proud of him, he was getting everything that he deserved and worked so hard for but -

-but you could selfish sometimes and want him for yourself. It had been you two throughout high school, and then at University until he dropped out to focus on music full time. You didn’t even hold fault with the rest of the boys for taking him away, finding a sort of family with Jade, Adam and Hunter eventually. But you just didn’t have the connection with them that you had with Davey. And you knew it was because you were in love with him.

You turned back to something happier that you had written a couple of days ago, after Davey had taken you out to dinner, just as something fun to do.

‘For once, clouds overhead resemble me and you Though I’m glad for gravity to keep me like glue With feet on the ground, we walk side by side Though with your talents, I’d say, more like a glide My head upon your shoulder, and arm entwined with yours You only let go to kindly open up the doors The smell of the the spices, the delicious food, oh- I love you so much, just please, watch me glow.’

You heard footsteps coming up the sand. It was quiet, but distinct, so you immediately closed up the notebook and placed it under your legs where it won’t blow away if a gust of wind were to come about. You looked over your shoulder to see the familiar figure approaching. Your heart was beating fast just looking at him. Although he looked amazing when he was on the stage, dressed up and full of make up, you thought he looked his best just as he was now. His hair was sticking out from beneath his hood at odd angles, his tongue was flicking against his lip ring, his eyes were crinkled from the smile that he was giving you. Just a natural beauty, in your opinion.

“You’re early,” You said, patting on a hard patch of sand beside you, wanting him to sit down. He did, sliding into the spot, his legs splayed out in front of him. He moved the hood from off of his head, showing off his freshly shaved sides. It was tradition for him to get a haircut before the tour started.

“Are you complaining?” He teased. He picked up your drink, which had gone cold in the time that you were out here, though it was still half full. He took a sip, smacked his lips, then put it back where it had been. You rolled your eyes at how he just welcomed himself to your things. It was as if the only thing that really was private were your writings. He’d even taken some of your clothes before. In fact, you were pretty sure that it was one of your t-shirts that was sticking out from beneath his sweater.

“I was hoping to get more done by the time you got here, but alas,” You sighed, dramatically.

“Writing again?” He asked, seeing the notebook underneath your legs.

“When aren’t I?” You said, teasing yourself. “I might even finish another notebook by the time that you get back. You’re bringing me souvenirs, right? I really want a little replica of the Eiffel Tower for my collection.”

“I’ve already bought you two,” Davey pointed out.

“Well, yeah, but it’s the closest I’m ever going to get to seeing the real thing. We can’t all be rock stars,” You nudged him, making him laugh.

“Never know - you could do something with all those words you scribble down.” He tapped the top of the notebook and you moved it out of his reach possessively. It was from him especially that you hid those words from. He was content to just be friends with you and the idea of ruining that was devastating. Even more so than this stupid unrequited love crap that you hoped would only be in books, but you were living through.

“Definitely not,” You shook your head. “Besides, as I’ve demonstrated for you time and time again, I cannot sing. Wasn’t it Hunter who rushed in the room, thinking that I was killing a cat?”

Davey laughed at the memory, and had to nod, which didn’t offend you in the slightest. You knew that you didn’t have the pipes to be a rockstar. Davey used to think that it would be great to have you as a backup singer or something of the sort so you could be a part of the band, but your little demonstration had put an end to that.

The two of you sat on the beach for a couple of hours, enjoying the solitude of the day, and the calm weather which rarely came into California. He even used his phone to deliver Starbucks to their location, tipping the delivery guy generously for coming out onto the sand so that the two of you could have your coffees. You listened to him go on about the busy tour schedule, and how he didn’t have much hope of sightseeing beyond the van and the venue.

“But I’ll get you your damn replica,” Davey assured you, making you smile with hope. More than anything, you wanted to go with him, but it really was just band and crew only. You and Davey already tried that, but the record label, who was paying for everything, had put their foot down.

“My collection thanks you,” You grinned. “Oh, maybe next time you’re in Asia, you could pick me up one of those little Tokyo Tower ones. It’s almost the same, but red.”

“What, you have enough of them that you need colors now?” Davey asked, looking at his phone and pulling a face. “I have to go - practice and packing...”

“Do you need any help?” You asked, hoping to spend a little extra time with him, but he shook his head.

“The last time that you helped me back, you somehow replaced all my underwear with speedos. Not happening.” He got to his feet and then helped you to do the same. You loved the warmth of his hand. This little bit of contact was the most that you could hope for and you savored it immensely. But it ended all too soon. “Want a ride home?”

“With the way that you drive? No way,” You stuck your tongue out. He was infamous for being a horrible driver, and even you who barely saw his flaws thought so. “I’ll just walk, it’s not far.”

“Okay,” He said, shooting you one of his infamous smiles. “Text me when you get home safe.”

“Just promise me you won’t look at it while you’re driving.”

-

You had never felt so frazzled or stressed out in your life. This was worse than the time that you had slept in before exams in your final year of University. This was worse than the interviewing process to get your current position. This was even worse than the time that Jade had set you up with his brother on a date, and it had turned out to be the most awkward experience of your life!

Your notebook was missing.

You couldn’t remember the last time that you had it but you had a feeling that it was at the beach. But you would never forget it there, would you? You weren’t stupid enough to just leave it for someone to find. It didn’t have your name in it, or your address so no one could link it to you if they actualy found it but ... it was still mortifying.

You walked where you had been the day before with Davey, going down the same path and stopping in what you were pretty sure was the same spot. Nothing. So this either meant that it wasn’t where you had lost it, or someone had picked it up. You grew so frustrated with yourself - how could you lose something that was so close to you all of the time? And even worse, the special pen that Davey had gotten you was tucked in among the pages.

You dragged your way back home, only to see that there was a black car in your driveway. From the dent in the bumper, you could tell that it was Davey’s. He had a key to your place, so he wasn’t waiting outside, but still - you couldn’t think of why he would be here. You entered your place, and looked around to see that he wasn’t anywhere in sight. “You better not be drinking all of my almond milk!” You shouted. You walked into your kitchen, and rather than him being the first thing that you noticed, it was the notebook, sitting on the counter. You knew that you hadn’t left it there, having walked through this kitchen a dozen times in your search. You stopped in the entryway, and forced yourself to look onto Davey’s face.

“I noticed it when you were walking away,” He said, opening up the notebook. Your jaw dropped at the audacity that he had. He knew that it was private. You had never let him even peek inside one of your books before, and here was, flipping through it like he was looking for something in particular. Did he have the pages memorized? “I was going to give it to you but you were already gone.”

“So you just went through it?” You asked, marching forward to try to take it from him, but he held it out of your reach. High above his head, with the page facing down so that he could read whatever page had interested him. You tugged on his arm, but he was relentless.

“I’m glad that he doesn’t know that he’s all I think about, He doesn’t feel the same way, I have no doubt. I’m glad that he doesn’t know that I dream about his mouth The way he kissed me cheek on vacation, down south. I’m glad that he doesn’t know that I want to share house So that at night be can help unbutton my blouse I’m glad that he’ll never find any of this out He’s someone that I could never live without-”

“Please stop,” You pleaded with him. And he did. He just flicked his tongue at his lip ring again, sucking on it slightly, thinking about something. “Would you believe me if I told you they were about someone else?”

“No.”

“Thought not,” You said. Davey lowered his arms and you took the book out of his grip, slamming it shut before he could peek anymore. But he had all night. He probably read everything. You’ve never felt more mortified in your life.

The only sound was that of the ticking clock which hung on your wall. The seconds were passing by. “Can you maybe say something?” You asked, finally, unable to take it anymore. “Like - I don’t know - we’re not friends anymore and leave?”

“Why would I leave?” He asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

“Why would you stay?” You asked in return.

He didn’t answer you with his words. Rather, his lipring was against your lips now, still slightly wet from his tongue, which was all that you could focus on. Until you realized that his arm was sneaking by you, trying to get the notebook again. You pulled yourself away, came to terms with what just happened, and then gasped loudly. “What-”

“What?” Davey asked, snatching the book before you could take it back, and hid it inside of hoodie. “It’s all very cute - really. Why didn’t you read me any of it before?”

Your mouth opened and closed, and you felt like a fish trapped out of water. “Why do you think?” You finally sputtered out. You pressed your fingertips to your lips, still feeling the metal against them. Still feeling that kiss. “Because they’re silly and it’s humiliating!”

“They’re not silly. You’ve got some good material here,” Davey said, hugging it close to his chest so you couldn’t attempt to get it. You didn’t. He’d already seen everything. There was no point in trying to get it now. “It’s just kind of funny...”

“What is?”

“I’ve been trying to use my lyrics to get through to you,” He said, smiling. You were glad he looked so happy, but the situation didn’t seem to call for it. You were still more confused than anything. “Not as sappy as your poems but-”

You hit him in the arm, and he laughed and took a step back. “You’re a jerk.”

“Yeah, and I feel like one since I still have to leave tomorrow,” He frowned, the light leaving his eyes. Still, now that you weren’t hitting him, he approached you once more, and wrapped you in one of his infamous hugs. It felt different now though. It had more meaning. “I shouldn’t ask you to wait for me-”

“Are you kidding? I thought you read this book - I’ve been waiting for years. What’s another couple of months?”

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #214: Three Angels Fallen!

December, 1981

Mission: Capture the GHOST RIDER!

Ha ha good luck with that

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

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

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

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

Then the Avengers put him under court martial!

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

This time: that stuff all made the news.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tigra: “Jarvis! Hiya!”

Jarvis: “Good day, madame!”

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

Jarvis: “In any case, madame...”

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

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

She has zero positive social interactions with this guy!

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

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

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

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

Jarvis: “As do I, madame!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s our Tony!

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

Because that’d be a thorny situation.

Speaking of, over at the house of Wasp:

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

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

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

Jenkins: “Mrs. Pym -- ?”

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

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

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

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

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

So Jan goes to see Hank.

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

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

And she demands a divorce.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wow.

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

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

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

He’ll be fine.

He won’t be fine.

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

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

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

Well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cap: “I know! That’s foolish!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Valid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Warren agrees to the race.

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

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

You see that some of the times.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he sets Warren on fire.

Geez, Ghost Rider.

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

“And an angel falls screaming to the Earth.”

One-third of a title drop!

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

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

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

Not like he had anything better to do.

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

That scamp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Its all the same guy.

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

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

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

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

Before calling herself a liar in her thoughts.

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

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

(Aww, look at Thor waving to the crowd)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Evalyn: “What size are you dear?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cap: “Well... hello, podner!”

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

Cap: “Hop on!”

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

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

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

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

This has been a very fun two pages.

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

The next day, they’re still looking!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kim: “I-Iron Man?”

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

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

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

Zooms off right along the median divider.

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

Anyway, Ghost Rider leads them into a box canyon.

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

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

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

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

Geez.

Kind of an overreaction honestly, Ghost Rider.

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

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

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

Hey, kids in the audience!

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

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

Is it...

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

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

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

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

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

This Thor, what a cool guy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So the Avengers regroup. Well, they try.

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

But being an Avenger means having to do stupid stuff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It also helps that Tony is in the background thinking

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he shoots some hellfire at Tigra.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tigra: “What will become of him?”

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

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

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

And we get the three fallen angels of the title.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[caffeinatedfantasy]

The Seal pt 0.5: The Arrival

{ because I felt like it and the idea popped up? idk }

{ Chris: [bio] Pt [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]/ ?? Day One [ AO3 Link ] 

This whole thing was a mistake. A ridiculous, headache inducing mistake. I was going to go back to sleep and wake up, life back to normal. I was certain of it. This couldn't be anything other than an extended dream. My drink had probably been spiked with something and this was a weird ass drug trip. I've heard of people having bad shroom trips and thinking they're in the trip for months and it's really only been a couple minutes. That had to be what it was. 

I couldn't be dead because Hell wasn't real. 

And if it was, I wouldn't be surrounded by all these attractive demon boys, paying for my shit. [I was still very confused, but I wasn't about to complain about someone buying me clothes to get out of my pajamas. Because of course I'd been wearing them.]

"Can't you just..." I gestured vaguely. Might as well play along. "Poof my clothes here?"

He gave me a look and I inexplicably felt stupid for the question. I shouldn't, and I knew I shouldn't, because why the fuck wasn't it that simple? I refused to let him get to me, though, and stubbornly crossed my arms. "Seems like bad planning to poof my ass down here with shit but my jams, but too late now I suppose. I need a bra, at least."

Yea, I see your eyes going there Mr. High and Mighty. He only made a small noise of acknowledgement before we went back to shopping, but I noticed that one of the brothers' [Asmodeus?] attention stayed there for a little longer until he noticed I was looking at him. 

"Looks fine to me!" He winked, and I couldn't help but chuckle.He was eager to help while they went shopping, getting a bit handsier than needed, but his choices were pretty stylish [and he was very cute], so I couldn't complain too much. 

Well, I could, but I wasn’t going to. The whole... Stern “friendly”[?] talking to from [Lord?] Diavolo about how I didn’t really have a choice because I had signed the contract for the school exchange program three months ago, so I was obligated. [They’d advertised it as Japan. I knew some Japanese. I was excited for that. But. Why not Hell I guess?]

Though. At one point they pointed towards a gate that they said would take me back to the Human World [after I went through the layers of Hell, apparently, which I didn’t remember because I never got around to reading Inferno] and I just straight booked it. 

Or tried to. 

One moment Lucifer was pointing it out, with Mammon joking [maybe?] that I could take that route home as I stared. The next moment Lucifer had his arm around my waist as my legs pumped futilely as I was lifted off the ground the moment I had moved.

I don’t know if I had looked that obvious or if he had read my mind, because I hadn’t even thought about it until I realized what what going on. 

“If you try that again, I’ll have to put a leash on you.” He scolded me. And I could only scowl in embarrassment. [Asmodeus had made a couple jokes about how he had one I could use and I’d look so cute in it, winking and everything. And had looked delightedly scandalized when I’d teased him that he might look better in one than me.]

Overall, it was a couple hours before we were done and I was shown to what would be my room and left to sleep. I didn’t bother with much before I settled into the too-large, too-comfortable bed.

Surely I'd wake up and be back to my normal life then, laughing about my weird ass dream.

--

As far as dreams go, being in a strange house full of demons really wasn't that weird. Except that they hadn't been chasing me, [a staple for me], nor had I ever been lucid during it. I had woken up convinced they'd actually happened, even. I stayed in a weird fugue state, trying to get my brain convinced that it was a dream, and I just needed to accept that [the strange bed just meant I'd hooked up with someone at the bar or something that's all], even when I'd wandered out of the room looking for... Someone.

I was intentionally ignoring the nagging feeling that last night might not be a dream as I walked down unfamiliar halls. It was not just an apartment. Or even a basic house. This place was huge. I'd never woken up in a place like this after a night of questionable choices. [Or at all. Ever.]

I heard the voices ahead as I walked, and the pit in my stomach grew. There were a few of them. Which meant this was going to be embarrassing either way. I was either going to be apologizing for making a fool of myself in front of a bunch of strangers[?] who decided to take care of me. [And maybe I slept with one of them. Though my body didn't feel like it, it was possible.] OR I was going to have to deal with the fact that I was now in Hell. [That I was still on drugs because Hell wasn't real, thank you very much.]

I peeked around the corner once I'd figured out which room the noise was coming from and lined along the dining table were five guys rather animatedly eating breakfast. 

And dear lord, they looked familiar. Every one of them. I had met them all the night before. In my Hell-dream. 

I groaned quietly. I needed to get the fuck out of here. I went to step back from the doorway when the one with black hair [Lucifer] looked up. 

Directly at me. 

He stood smoothly as he called my name. I wasn't sure if the movement was polite [some manners dictated standing when a guest entered, waiting for them to sit before doing so], or if it was to keep me from fleeing [he'd be faster than me, wouldn't he? As a demon and all].

I stood there for a moment, frozen. But I couldn't look like a deer in headlights. No, that was a terrible idea too. I smiled best I could, letting the expression lazily stretch across my face [a customer service smile would be too obvious right now], and stepped forward. Self-deprecation might be easier now.

"Well fuck me, so last night wasn't a dream?" I examined the table, food spread out on plates, and there was even an empty seat with a plate that must be for me. I'd started on the rest of my joke ["Here I woke up hoping that--"] when one of them--Asmodeus-- took my hand and pulled me closer, grinning at me widely.

"If you'd like, there's still time before class..." He purred at me, kissing the back of my hand. And oh dear lord the touch was practically electric. He'd taken my joke as an invitation and was flirting with me. 

But of all the things that could've happened. THIS I knew how to handle. [I wondered if that had been the point.]

Grinning back at him, I leaned forward towards him and gently patted his cheek. "Sweetheart, if it can be finished before class, I'm not interested."

I slipped my hand from his and took "my" seat, staring across the table at the food. [Ignoring how delighted Asmodeus looked at my teasing him back, including an "Ooooh I like you."] 

I glanced up at... Lucifer [when had he sat back down?] as I grabbed some food for my plate. 

"Was hoping this was some bad trip or something, but guess I'm really in Hell then?" I paused, then corrected myself. "Devildom, sorry. Shit's wild though. I take it you're throwing me in right away too?" 

The question was directed at Lucifer, even though I knew from last night that this hadn't been his decision, it had been Diavolo's. He shook his head at the question. 

"You're starting on Monday. To allow you to get settled in." I was surprised by the consideration I was being given, considering I'd been kidnapped and all. I just nodded around my food.

They’d looked like regular eggs. But the taste was... I blanched and stared at the plate for awhile before a hand reached across my plate and grabbed onto the side and-- I swatted his hand with my fork and scowled. “No! Mine!” 

The redhead [Beelzebub? I think? Gluttony for sure] pouted at me. He did look slightly annoyed, but mostly pouting. 

“Looked like you weren’t going to eat it.” He said, and his stomach growled. “Didn’t think humans ate cockatrice eggs.” 

“That’s why they tasted weird...” I muttered, and. [Hold on.] Cockatrice eggs? Gods. Mythology, they were... I glanced up at Lucifer sharply, keeping an eye on Beelzebub for any more food stealing. “They... Won’t poison me or something, right? 

“You should be fine.” He nodded. I paused, taking another couple of bites and stared at the rest of my plate and the weird food there before glancing at the redhead. 

“Make ya a deal. I’m gonna be trying this weird demon food. Anything I don’t like, you have free reign to just nab from me. Can even tell people you’re getting it for me and just eat it. Just ask before reaching for my plate for the other stuff, kay?” I offered with a small smile. He paused for a moment, staring at my plate, before he nodded. 

“Sure.” He replied. Somewhat hesitantly. [I wasn’t entirely sure how well an Avatar of Gluttony could hold to that, especially as I saw him put more unto hs plate from the middle, but I was gonna try.]

It helped that what I had thought were pancakes were... Disgusting, and I quickly gave them to him. [And I’d had a decent stack because. I love pancakes. But only sweet ones. These were... Not that.]

And made it through breakfast without him trying to steal anything else. 

Mammon would be with me today. Because apparently he was allowed to skip class for the day just to help me out. [And why did demons have school anyway? The best answer I got out of him was a shrug and “Diavolo’s idea” with no further elaboration.] 

And I just sort of... Drifted. My brain still running behind reality [questionable] demanding that this couldn’t be real, but that it wasn’t a dream, either, and that stuff would sort itself out soon enough. 

Right?

[ships-sailing-in-the-night]

Fic prompt: Marcus invites Chloe to the fasionable restaurant... to eat fugu fish. She is reluctunt but agrees. Maze learns about it and tells Lucifer.

Here ya go, another one complete! Read below or on AO3 here

A knock on her desk pulled Chloe’s attention away from her laptop and up towards the man standing in front of her. He was tall, handsome, had dark brown hair and bluish-gray eyes.

“Afternoon Chloe.” The man gave her a warm smile.

“Afternoon Lt. Pierce.”

“How many times must I tell you, Marcus is just fine….I was uhh, was wondering if you were doing anything later tonight?”

Chloe pursed her lips and thought for a minute. Dan had Trixie tonight, Maze was just going to be watching porn or something, Lucifer was, bring Lucifer…yeah her night was basically free.

“I’m not doing anything really, I was planning on just relaxing and perhaps watching a movie.”

“Well, there is this really good restaurant on Beverly Grove called Matsumoto. I heard they have really good Fugu Fish there and I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner there?”

“Ummm…sure, I guess it would be nice to get out for a while.”

“Great, is six o’clock ok?”

“Yep, that’s fine.”

“Alright, I will see you then.” With a smile, he turned and walked away. Chloe thought that having dinner with Lieutenant wouldn’t be too much of a big deal, but she wasn’t prepared for the endless questions that came from Maze when she got home later that night.

         ______________________________________________________

“So you’re going on a date with your boss? To some fancy restaurant? To eat fish that is poisonous and really doesn’t taste that good? And you really think that is more ideal then sitting here and watching Netflix with me?” Chloe looked up from what she was reading on her phone and glared at Maze.

“Maze. First; it’s not a date, second; I’ve never tried Fugu fish so who knows, it might actually taste good, and third; you don’t watch anything that isn’t porn.”

“That’s not true.” Maze folded her arms in defense, but Chloe continued to glare at her.

“…Ok maybe it’s not entirely true, but I do enjoy that show Thrones.

“It’s called Game of Thrones.”

“Yeah that one, there is a lot of sex in that show, and I mean a lot. It is just up my alley. Last night I got to the part where-“ Chloe glanced up from her phone and practically put both her hands over Maze’s mouth.

“Don’t say anything, I haven’t had a chance to catch up on all the episodes!” Maze smirked, before taking Chloe’s hands off from her mouth. There were a couple minutes of silence before Maze broke it.

“Anyway, does Lucifer know about this not so-called-date?”

“No, and for the last time, it isn’t a date. I only agreed because I would like to stay in the good graces of the Lieutenant and I was being nice. I would have felt a little bad if I said no…Still, though, I am not telling Lucifer about it and neither are you.” She pointed a finger directly at Maze’s chest before she started to head upstairs to prepare for the dinner.

Going through her closet she realized she didn’t a lot of nice, dressy clothes for a fancy restaurant. She eventually decided on a blue sundress with tan heels. Both were simple but it looked fancy enough for the restaurant. She didn’t put too much makeup on, just touching up here and there, a little neutral lipstick, and she pulled her hair halfway up. She grabbed her summer clutch and her house key as she headed down the steps. Once she reached the bottom of the steps, Maze gave her a quick once over before huffing and turning on her heel to go back to whatever she was doing. A knock at the door signaled that Marcus had arrived to pick her up. She opened the door and saw him wearing a maroon button down and black suit pants. ‘Hmmm, he went a bit on the casual side too, so I guess the restaurant isn’t that fancy,’ she thought to herself. Smiling she allowed him to lead her out the door and to his car.

“What, no motorcycle this time?” She stated jokingly, knowing he always drove everywhere on his precious bike, sort of how Lucifer would take his beloved jet black Corvette everywhere he would go. Instead, Marcus drove his Acura RLX which was a deep blue color, the rays of the sun bouncing off the exterior.

“I didn’t think you would want to ride a motorcycle in a dress at this time of day. You might get cold.” He offered warm smile before opening the passenger door, allowing Chloe to enter the vehicle. The interior was all black, the seats were leather and faux wood paneling outlined some of the compartments. The drive was about half an hour out of town, in the car they chatted about family, work, cases, all small talk really. After a couple moments of silence, Marcus spoke once more.

“I have to ask about your partner if you don’t mind, how did that even come to be?”

“Well, a friend of his was murdered outside of his club. He was the only witness to the murder so I asked him a couple of questions about the victim.” She started to laugh thinking about their conversation.

           ______________________________________________________

“Lucifer Morningstar…is that a stage name or something?” Surely he was joking, out of all the names he could have picked he chose the Devil’s name”….…“God-given, I’m afraid.”……”You like to play cop do you?“…….”No, I just like to play in general detective, what about you?” Man, if looks could kill, and his smile….

        ______________________________________________________

“Aaaannnnd, so how did a club owner named after the Devi go from club owner to civilian consultant?”

“Well, he kept interfering with the Delilah murder so I let him stick around. Together we were able to get the clues to find the murder and put him behind bars…well, or a psychiatric hospital…but yeah. He kept helping me with cases so I put a request in to make him an official consultant of the LAPD.”

“Psychiatric hospital? It seems like a majority of our suspects end up going mad after they a have a quick one-on-one chat with him.”

“Perhaps, but his way gets results, even if it’s not always the most conventional or legal way.”

         ______________________________________________________

They didn’t have to wait long because Marcus had put in a reservation for them for two at six o’clock. The young waiter led them to their table, the table had a blue cloth draped over it with a small vase containing shells and a candle. The atmosphere was a little on the dark side, but the aquariums surrounding the floor brightened up the room a bit. Not too long after an older woman, looking to be in her mid 40’s approached the two.

“Here is your menu, as you might have known our specialty is the Fugu Fish, it is served it a corn hash and a small side salad. This page here shows you our other fresh fish and seafood options. Can I start you two off with something to drink?”

“We would like two glasses of your house red, please,” Marcus told the waitress, whose name tag read Samantha.

“Alright, I will bring you some bread and your drinks should be out shortly.” After writing the order down Samantha turned and left to head towards the kitchen.

“So…” Marcus began.

“What made you want to move to LA? You don’t seem like the big city type of guy.”

“Well, let’s just say LA served up an opportunity for me that I just couldn’t resist. Though I suppose you are right though, I prefer to live in the country. I lived in Colorado for most of my life, I started working in the police department, helping with paperwork mostly in college, and then after graduation, I joined the academy. Then a couple of months ago, something came up and I was offered the opening for Police Lieutenant of the LAPD, so I packed everything and left to move here.” Marcus rested his chin on both of his fisted hands, his elbow’s leaning on the table in front of him.

Samantha returned shortly after with their drinks and some fresh rolls. She placed the bread and glasses of wine down on the table before pulling out her notepad once more.

“Do you two know what you would like to have tonight?”

“I believe we would both like to try the Fugu fish tonight.” He smiled up at Samantha while handing both his and Chloe’s menu to her.

“Alrighty, I will go ahead and put the order in so the cook and get started on it right away. It will take some time but I’ll make sure that as soon as it is done it will be headed your way.” Closing her notepad and grabbing the menus she turned and headed towards the kitchen once more. While waiting for their food, Chloe and Marcus snacked on the bread that was provided while continuing in light conversation.

      ______________________________________________________

“The detective is going to each something called Fugu fish with Lt. Pierce?”

“Yep, she said it wasn’t a date, she just ‘wanted to look good for her boss’.”

“Hmmm, well the Detective is free to do and have dinner with however she pleases, that is the whole concept of free will. Being able to decide what you do and don’t want to do and have control over your choices. It wouldn’t be my place to advise her otherwise.”

“I know, I know, I just thought I would let you know seeming that you don’t like this Marcus very much.”

“I’d take the douche any day over the Lieutenant any day.”

“Alright, I gotta start the next episode of Thrones now otherwise I won’t be able to finish it before Chloe get’s home, and you know how she hates it when I watch it while her child is in the house.”

“Fine, I have to take care of a few things down in LUX anyway, thank you for the information Mazikeen.” Lucifer hung up his cell phone and slipped it back into his pants pocket. He checked his refrigerator to see how many ingredients he had in case the detective decided to drop by later that night for a snack.

        ______________________________________________________

About three hours later Lucifer heard his elevator ding, perhaps one of the Brittney’s was coming up to entertain him. He was about to ask them to leave when he saw a rather familiar face. A smile appeared on his face as he headed toward his kitchen.

“Let me guess, not your type of fish?”

“You could say that. The Fugu was alright, but I am definitely more of an Italian restaurant type of girl than a seafood restaurant person. It was too dark and Marcus just told me all about his days on the farm.”

“Sounds boring if you ask me.” He then headed to his freezer and pulled out two tubs of ice cream, both different flavors. With the ice cream tubs in his hands, he asks,

“Care for some dessert if you are not already too full?”

Chloe smiled and placed her jacket on his bar countertop, she had gone against ordering dessert at the restaurant because all she really wanted to do was to go back home. Fancy, poisonous-if-not-cooked-properly-fish, was not something she would want to eat again in a long time. She used the excuse that the salad had filled up most of her appetite and that she didn’t have much room for the fish. She only ate probably half of the fish and all of her corn hash.

“I think I saved enough room.” She grabbed one of the tubs of ice cream from his hand and headed over to grab two bowls from his cabinet. They spent the night, eating ice cream, chatting and watching a movie on Netflix; Chloe’s definition of a perfect night.

Thanks for the prompt! :)

[stephhannes]

dressed to anti-depress

in the last two years, i’ve spent a lot of time asking myself questions like “will getting a smoothie today cure my depression?” and “will cutting my hair cure my depression?” and the answer to both of those questions is no. but you know what will kinda cure depression? getting on anti-depressants. 

earlier this year, my mental health was…concerningly bad, and quickly getting worse. i’ve recently gotten pretty good at managing my depression on my own by setting strict boundaries for myself and sticking to them (no screens allowed in my bedroom, exercising every day, no drinking alone etc) but out of nowhere, my anxiety began spiraling out of control. (my doctor suggested it’s due to ‘perhaps, ptsd’). 

but basically, by the time february rolled around i was having a really tough time. i couldn’t enjoy being around anyone because all i could think about was the inevitability of their death. i’d get lunch with a friend and spend the entire time panicking because what if this was the last time i ever got to get lunch with them? i saw my cats and i immediately started sobbing because my first thought was “oh my god they’re going to die one day.” i had a tough time showering because i was convinced that i would slip in the shower and crack my skull and no one would ever know because i live alone. no matter what i was doing, i would find some way to imagine some sort of catastrophe occurring. i noticed that i was starting to develop compulsions- i would obsessively check my rear-view mirror when i was driving, i wouldn’t leave the house without pacing for awhile before i left. i was having a hard time completing tasks which then made my anxiety even worse. every upsetting thought i had felt enormous and scary and would send me spiraling. i couldn’t focus, my memory was getting really terrible. 

and it was exhausting. 

i’ve been putting off trying medication for years. when i was growing up, i remember this weird stigma about anti-depressants. the discourse surrounding them was always like “nah man, they make you a shell of a person. totally numb no emotions or personality anymore.” my parents just like…didn’t believe in mental health so i suffered endlessly in middle and high school because no one would take me to therapy or acknowledge that like hey, maybe my kid isn’t lazy, she’s just clinically depressed. when i was in college, i finally went to therapy for a little bit because it was free through the university. and that helped some, but i still wasn’t completely cured. 

when i moved to new york, surprise, i was still depressed. one of my friends was constantly in my ear saying “hey buddy, you might really benefit from anti-depressants” and i finally realized “actually, i think you have a point, it’s probably worth a try” but every time i’d bring it up with nathan he was super opposed to it and would always just suggest i do something like “get out of bed before 4pm,” or “eat better.” 

by the time we moved to philly i was hitting a breaking point. my anxiety was so bad that nathan hated being in the same room as me when i was freaking out because my vibes were just so wack. the problem was that i had no money, and no health insurance which really left me in a position where the only way i could get help was with nathan’s help- i brought it up kind of casually one day like “hey i really think i might benefit from therapy or medication” and he was like “actually, i think you’d benefit from getting a hobby” 

and then a couple of days later i had a total nervous breakdown and i begged him to help me. i’ll never forget sobbing and saying “i don’t know if i need medication or therapy or both but all i can think about any more is killing myself and i can’t just hobby it away.” and he was finally like “ok, we’ll look into it this weekend” and the next day i woke up with such a sense of relief because i was finally going to get help and i actually had a super productive day. i got some work done, i got a library card and checked out some books. i ran errands, i cooked dinner, i read an entire book. i was actually present in my relationship. i was excited to get my life and myself back. 

and then nathan literally died that night so y’know all of those plans were thwarted. 

and then i spent two years in a fugue state and then i kinda got my shit together and then a pandemic happened and blah blah blah whatever. 

and then we’re back at february 2021. 

after realizing that i had become such an anxious wreck i finally started looking into options. and there she was, an app that allowed me to literally just text a doctor and be like “hey doc im feeling sad :(“ and they’d be like “oh cool, here’s a prescription for zoloft lmk how ur doing in a month xoxo” and for the low cost of 30 dollars a month i have serotonin for the first time in 13 years. 

++

over the last couple of days i’ve been asked the question “what are you thinking about right now?” a few times and my answer is always the same- literally nothing. zoloft has my head so empty and it’s incredible. like, for once i’m not in my own head questioning every god damn thing i do. 

the other day, one of my friends was like “it’s actually enjoyable to hang out with you now” which sounds rude, but makes a lot of sense tbh- sometimes i’m literally just not fun to be around. now i’m fun most of the time- except for the window of time where i realize “oh god i haven’t taken my zoloft yet today” and i start having withdrawal symptoms. but otherwise, i’m great! 

it’s interesting feeling a sense of happiness that isn’t just a manic episode. like sometimes, i’m driving to work and i smile thinking about something one of my friends said earlier in the day. a big 180 from a few months ago when i couldn’t drive without my little beady eyes glued to the rear-view mirror. when i’m left alone with my thoughts for more than 10 minutes, they’re usually pretty decent thoughts, instead of the usual “everyone hates me and i am going to die alone."

i’ve also become a total boss babe- now that i’m not overthinking everything i’m actually able to do my job without an overwhelming sense of anxiety. i’ve always been capable and good at what i do, but for the first time i actually feel confident in my abilities. 

++

with a combination of taurus season being very generous to me and a year of Pandemic Realizations i feel like i’m actually a cool, functional human again (for the first time, even?). i’ve spent a lot of time filtering myself, toning down aspects of my personality to appeal to whoever i’m around, turning up parts of my personality to get attention, etc- and now i’m just out here like “ok so anyway this is me- you get what you get, you don’t throw a fit” 

surprisingly, people have been pretty receptive to that, it’s almost like i am a good person that is worthy of love and kindness or something. 

++

i still haven’t gone to therapy, but i’ve been able to work through a lot of trauma on my own over the last couple of months. i’m finally at a point where i can acknowledge the things i’ve been repressing for a few years without feeling like everything is about to collapse. in time, i hope i’m able to get to a point where i can actually verbalize the feelings i’ve been having, and the things i’ve been (kylie jenner voice) realizing- but i’m not there quite yet. it’s been a weird experience not spiraling every time i feel a human emotion. now i’m able to acknowledge things and be like “ok is there anything i can do to resolve this right now? no? ok then i don’t need to fixate on it” and i can push it away until i need to acknowledge it again. i used to be paralyzed by any sort of inconvenience. 

though, i will say, i’ve started doing this thing where i’ll be like “y’all mind if i share a genuine human emotion?” and then i’ll say something that i never would have dreamt of saying a year ago- generally something that insinuates that sometimes i do experience the human feeling of vulnerability. 

++

every once and awhile i do still get hit with the wave of “why couldn’t i have been this functional when i was with nathan?” guilt. i think that ties into a lot of the grief i feel over all of the years i lost due to my depression- and even more specifically the months i lost due to my depression when i first moved to new york, and again when we moved to philly. when i first moved to new york, i didn’t really leave the apartment for 3 months. i slept most of the time. there were days long stretches where i was just completely emotionally unavailable. and much like in my adolescence when my parents refused to acknowledge that maybe i needed help, sometimes i feel angry that nathan also refused to acknowledge that maybe i needed help. 

i spent a lot of time really agonizing over the fact that eventually i would be stable, and would eventually be a better partner to someone else than i was to nathan, and i think there’s still a part of that that exists in me- but i’ve found a little more peace with the concept. i’m thankful that nathan had the patience to deal with me when i was losing every last marble rattling around in my brain- but there’s always a part of me that’s like “damn, i wonder what our relationship would have been like if i’d been a little less unstable” 

++

you can really tell that my mental health has improved just by the trajectory that my close friends instagram story has taken. it used to just be me drunk and crying every night at 4am and now it’s thirst traps and girl boss selfies. 

there are still character flaws that are so deeply ingrained in me that i’m constantly having to be aware of and combat, but it’s a lot easier to do that when i don’t exist on pure anxious energy. everything i do is still very much informed by the deep-seated fear of rejection i have, but i’ve been trying very hard to start to break that down. it’s like an irrational fear. like ‘afraid to tell my friend i love them when i’m hanging up the phone because what if they actually just hate me?’ level. now my friends will literally call me back if i don’t say i love you before hanging up and be like “hey bitch i said i love you say it back” and now it’s becoming a little less terrifying. 

my inability of showing vulnerability definitely stems from that fear of rejection. look, it’s scary to be like “hello this is a tough thought i’ve been having lately do you mind unpacking it with me?” i know that if i were to say that literally anyone in my circle would be like “yea let’s do it” but just the concept that the option of them being like “nah that’s a lot” keeps me from saying anything. there have been a couple times in the last few months where i’ve stepped out of my comfort zone to acknowledge and unpack some of those hard truths though, so congrats to me or whatever. i’ve even been hugging my friends more often (which is saying a lot coming from a woman that has never hugged her best friend, still to this day). 

++

anyway, as soon as i start going to therapy it’s going to be over for these hoes because i’m gonna be hot and sane and probably unstoppable. 

[blameless]

Victor and a teabag

Victor opened the tea caddy to check, even though he knew already that there would be nothing but dust inside. He'd already re-used the last teabag three times, and thought wistfully of those days when he had been so profligate as to make himself pots of tea, with two and three bags. Imagine! Maybe he should switch to leaves. Maybe he should be better at economizing – but economy would only go so far with prices going up all the time. Nothing ever gets any cheaper. At least now the newspapers are free, even if most of the news seems unbelievable. Funny how you never think it will go that way – at 20, at 30, at 40 you never imagine that one day, in your seventies, you'll find yourself counting teabags and rueing pennies spent.

Actually, as a student in digs, those many decades ago, he had been poor. But it was a different kind of poverty – the camaraderie of the set meant they could throw their few shillings together for a drink or two, and live on soup and beans. Now who was there? Everyone was dead, or moved on. His parents passed. They'd never been a very large family, nor particularly close. How had he come to the pass that he knew not a single person of whom to beg a teabag? Of course the neighbours were out of the question. They'd just see him as a charity case, and the last thing he needed was their pity.

You couldn't really blame the government, not as a pensioner. Every day you read stories of food banks, bedroom tax, child poverty. There are riots in the streets. 1% have all the wealth; everyone else has 1% of nothing. The news is always dire. But still the pension comes through, the one reliable thing in the post-truth world. Word of the year according to the Oxford English Dictionary. Regular as the junkmail on the doorstep.

"Victor, do you really need a cup of tea? With no teabags, there's milk to spare. Nice hot milk's probably a better idea, don't you think?"

His voice sounded loud in the small kitchen. Doesn't do to start talking to yourself; who knows where that might lead? The next thing you know you're answering yourself back, and what if an argument ensued? No, not hot milk first thing in the morning. The thought of it! A man needed a decent cup of tea.

And why do I still get up, punctiliously, at 8.30 each morning? The same dull round of it, as if I can't bear to miss even one moment of this world. What changes? That a teabag could be the tipping point. The very idea!

"Victor. Get a hold of yourself. One day teabags, the next day everything!"

That was all very well, but the fact remained. He did not have the readies to purchase a teabag. He could not borrow a teabag. Of tea there was none.

Wool-gathering again. Is that what they mean by a fugue state? You're suddenly there, in the moment, and you've no clue how much time has passed, in that daze. I awake, find myself clutching an empty tea caddy at the kitchen sink, gazing out the window without seeing what is there.

Late November has stripped the trees of their leaves, leaving them skeletal, nowhere for the birds to hide. There, in the fork of a tree, was a magpie – and he could swear it was looking back at him.

I don't know Victor. One minute you're talking to yourself – and the next it's magpies.  Male or female? How do you tell the difference?The magpie spread it's wings and settled again. Victor stepped to the side, and the head tracked him. It was watching him! Well, they were known to be thieves.

Victor's kitchen window was on the ground floor of his housing association flat in Bermondsey. In an effort to make the environs less grim, at some point the council had put in some trees, which had grown in a spindly way to about twenty feet tall now. He realized that the magpie was not alone. There were several others in the trees, and they too seemed to be watching him. Could it be possible? He liked his ground floor flat – being able to watch people walking past from the kitchen window. He never felt overlooked – it made him feel less lonely in fact. But now, under the gaze of a gulp of magpies, a mischief of magpies, a charm, a mystic a murder of magpies (what was the term?) he suddenly felt uneasy, and wished the window were equipped with a blind.

"Victor, you need to get out more if four birds in a tree worry you that much."

It wouldn't do. I need to get out for a walk. Fresh air - that will sort it. Walking is free at least. And it's a while since I've been to the river. That's what I'll do.

It was a while since he'd seen a magpie at rest; they were such handsome birds. The contrast of black and white feathers; the luster of their iridescent tails The magpie flitted to join it's fellow, but still, didn't take flight. Well and all. I should wrap up warm and go for a walk. Go and look at all the new developments past tower bridge, where the mayor's headquarters squatted like a great spaceship tethered to the edge of the Thames. There were still free things to be had in this great city, if he could make the distance. It didn't look like rain.

Victor put down the tea caddy and went to fetch his coat. Worn now. The shoulders dropped and shiny from years of use, it still retained its ability to keep him warm. Had it always been so heavy? He changed his slippers for his best outdoor shoes and wrapped a scarf tightly around his neck. He would do. Spectacles, testicles, wallet and watch. Wallet in the inside pocket – thick with bus tickets and receipts and coupons and cuttings it made a comforting bulge. Umbrella? You never knew, and it could double as a walking stick – not that he needed one of course.

Another little lie you tell yourself, eh?

All ready now. He carefully locked the door behind him and crossed the empty vestibule to the street door. Mid-morning, and the estate was quiet, although in the distance he could hear traffic, the blare of a siren. He heard the raucous cry of a bird above him and looked up. The magpies, it seemed, were still watching him. He set off through the estate.

It wasn't too long until he hit the high street, and followed it along until he had reached Tower Bridge. Even though he had been that way barely months before he was shocked at the changes a short time had wrought. Then it had been swathed in scaffolding; pedestrian routes dark passageways through the mass of construction. Now new buildings had sprouted, like mushrooms – blocks of colourful modernist flats replacing the office blocks that had been thrown up in the seventies. The old police station, the warehouses that had once lined the river – gone. Around the Lord Mayor's HQ a grid of wind-tunnels inadequately humanised by stone benches and water features with aspirational words laser-cut into their sides blocked his view of the river from Tooley Street. At ground level were all kinds of new-style eateries, where a cup of coffee cost a week's food budget. Busy-looking people crouched on tall stools and pecked away on laptops.. What trees there were looked out of place in all this vastness – a careless scribble against the acres of glass that reflected the emptiness back in an infinite tunnel. Victor began to regret his impulse to take a walk. This new London was no place for him. Perhaps further on he would find buildings on a more human scale.

Hays Galleria was still there, an elegant Georgian interpretation of the golden section, but filled now with tourist-friendly gift shops and cafes – and everywhere people spending, grazing, wandering with bulging branded shopping bags. Victor arrived at a large sculpture – a work inspired by Jules Verne, marvellous in its steam-punk madness, intricate and beautiful. Here he could rest a little while, on a wrought-iron bench, painted green, with familiar wooden armrests, which wrapped its way around a column. The sculpture took the form of a ship, half harpoon, half giant fish, all wrought in bronze. Rigging and masts festooned with chains, it soared up into the light cast by building's atrium, eight funnels reaching like an organ about to give song. The walk so far had been about half a mile, but already Victor was more tired than he cared to admit – and onwards to Tate Modern would be another mile, through the melee of London Bridge. But Oh! Southwark Cathedral also lay that way. He would continue.

Now he was glad he'd brought his stout umbrella along. He levered himself to his feet and made his way back onto Tooley Street. As he neared London Bridge station he looked up and was suddenly aware of the bulk of the Shard towering over him. He had seen it of course in the distance, from Borough – another spike in an increasingly unfamiliar London skyline. But never from this angle. Never this massive! He paused, where Tooley Street met Duke Hill, and considered his best route forward. The new street layout, over two levels, was confusing. Victor decided to stick to the ground and crossed the busy road to Montague place. The cathedral at least had not changed much, and it was open. Inside, the high naves muted the buzz of tourists that filled it. Victor took a seat in one of the chairs that had replaced the old pews. Vaulted arches soared above him, and again he reflected that he'd probably walked far enough today. He didn't belong in this London of people who didn't do eye-contact, who sealed off the outside world with earphones, who seemed to be constantly glued to the screens of smart devices. Here in this familiar and unchanging place he didn't feel so lost, but he was still conscious of his solitude, and a weariness that was deeper than the pleasant stiffness of overused muscles.

[insert-witty-comment]

Allow me to explain shadow-walking before posting the confirmation image. (skip to the end if you're already informed)3-4 months ago I made a post that talked about theories that connect to season 2. One of the portions was this:Shadow-WalkingChapter 5: The Flea and the Acrobat – Around 6:40 - “(Lucas) But how do we get there...(Dustin) You cast Shadow-walk...(Lucas) In real life dummy...We can't shadow-walk but, maybe she can”When watching the show you automatically think Eleven is shadow-walking, I did. But upon further review I realized this isn't what's happening at all. Shadow-walking is actually entering the Veil of Shadows. Eleven doesn't go there she goes to 3rd realm, the inbetween place.I wrote extensively about the proof of the 3 realms here, if you're interestedShadow-Walking is when you actually travel to the Upside-Down, Eleven doesn't do that, so what's Shadow-Walking?At the end of the season when Will is in the bathroom and he vomits the slug he seems to have a vision of the Upside-Down.I don't think that was a vision at all. I think Will shadow-walked and potentially disappeared from Earth-Realm for a moment or that his mind shadow-walked and he has a presence there.Either way this was a true depiction of shadow-walking, but Will is untrained in this power and can't quite control it.There is an image in the Season 2 Trailer where Will is in the Department of Energy Laboratory with his Mom Joyce.It's possible that Will is going to reveal his powers to his Mom purposefully or by accident. This will cause her to seek medical help, talk to Hopper or even contact the department of energy.I think in the Hospital image Will is shadow-walking and perhaps in a coma-like state and that he's doing this to bring back Eleven.Remember what their Science/AV teacher Mr. Clarke said when asked about the Vale of Shadows:ConfirmationI wrote the above portion several months ago, but upon seeing the new trailer I think it's confirmed that Will is Shadow-Walking.It's possible Will is having PTSD flashbacks or visions of the future, but it seems less likely.Will seems to enters a fugue or coma like state in the "Right-side-up" and his conscience shadow-walks to the Upside-Down.I think this image is confirmation of that event. Joyce yells at Will: "Wake up! Wake up!"And here Will is certainly being chased by some sort of shadow spirit, meaning that he is interacting with the Upside-Down now just having a visionAdditionally if you rewatch the second trailer, during Will's shadow-walk at the Palace arcade, the Thesselhydra looks directly at him, it can see him or sense him, Will becomes horrified and snaps out of the shadow-walk. Regardless I think this is proof that he is interacting with that realm, while maintaining a physical presence in The Right Side UpAnd although it is just his conscience that is entering I don't think this means he is safe in the Veil of Shadows, if his mind dies he may enter a perpetual coma or even die in real life too. via /r/StrangerThings