#this story is fundamentally about Miles and so that is going to reflect in how other characters' arcs go

[moralesmilesanhour]

I personally view the possibility of a romantic relationship between them as detrimental to their individual characters and it's not really something people want to talk about, which I get, but like there's a really deeper way to view their relationship other than "haha cute wholesome dramatic teen superhero romance" like on a metanarrative level. Because you'd think all the other things in spiderman mythos the movie is critiquing and expanding they'd address the very obvious elephant in the room with gwen but oop-

Yeah I think I'd rock w Gwiles more as a romantic ship if Gwen's role as a love interest wasn't so thematically dissonant. If they were gonna hijack Miles' story like that I think they should've had a better reason than justification for a romantic relationship. And then they added Margo to the mix so like what was the point of all that lmaooo

[venusvxen]

On Spider-Man Into The Multiverse As It Relates To LOA Concepts:)

This is more of a philosophical post as opposed to anything with methods… If you don’t believe in LOA… scroll right past thanks

Having just finished the new spider man movie (a few

hours ago) and yall being well aware of my affinity for the multiverse.. a new string of thoughts just popped up that i thought i would share..

first off.. here are my thoughts on the spider man movie and how it relates to the whole philosophy around the law in general not just manifesting..

1. One main takeaway from the 2nd half of the movie is the whole ordeal with feeling like you //have// to struggle and suffer as a rite of passage. Which is like… Insane.. Miguel basically saying that the suffering is one of the main things that connects them even tho there are infinite multiverses with infinite realities and possibilities… it just reminds me of how i feel guilty and a “cheat” at times for knowing the law and choosing to take the “easier” way out as opposed to letting myself go through unnecessary strife… which brings me to my next point…

2. Just like all those different versions of Miles were connected through the little spider web all different versions of You are connected through the web of consciousnesses. You’re not any more of a cheat for choosing an easy life over a hard life because at the end of the day it is still a version of you that exists within you…. you don’t have to **work** to prove to YOURSELF or THE WORLD that you’re deserving of a new SELF CONCEPT… it is quite literally INSIDE you.. has always been.. always will be.. because it is.. a different VERSION.. OF YOUSJSKKD….

I struggle with this sooo much at times … feeling like I need to go through all this pain and suffering for my triumphs to be valid… but who cares… because if we break this down to the most fundamental levels of the law.. None of us are really.. Any of the self concepts that we attach to ourselves… We’re neither rich, nor poor, happy, sad, depressed whatever.. we’re pure consciousness.. shifting in and out of states. A faceless formless being.. How are you essentially going to tell a blob who dresses up as who they want to be that they’re a cheat for not going through these man made human rites of passages when.. well.. they’re not rlly.. human… it’s pure consciousness. the societal rituals and norms that we cling onto rlly do not matter in imagination and that is the main takeaway…… let yourself just experience whatever it is you want…

which brings us to point number

3. the part where miles said “everyone is always telling me how MY story is supposed to go.. imma do my own thing” had to be like my fav part of the story for multiple reasons… i’ll try to break it down so this doesn’t take 30 years…

Earlier on in the day I was having this internal conflict with myself over this discourse I was seeing all over my twitter page. It made me feel uncomfortable but the reason why i felt the discomfort was rlly because a part of me still acknowledged the 3d as like.. real.. to some extent tbh.. bc if i was fully tapped into the 4d then that would’ve been water of my wings bc it literally… just… does not apply to the self in imagination…

anyways all day i was ruminating on the fact that a part of me.. after alllll this introspection.. still still STILL allows the outside world to dictate how MY story.. and MY life should go.. at times i put my fate into the hands of others..

But lately I’ve been thinking.. I know about all these theories of the multiverse I know how the law works… I know everything in the physical world is a delayed mirror reflection.. So like.. Why do i still allow myself to think i have to walk a path like everyone else around me?

There are infinite possibilities available to all of us.. We can pick and choose from all of them and live out a life that’s fulfilling beyond imagination.. Like seriously. Everyone reading this im sure is deep into this shit and is well aware the world is their oyster.. so why exactly do we continue to move as if the editor and publisher of our stories is some outside force and not us…

I’ve acknowledged that.. there is a certain fear that comes with trekking uncharted waters. Think about every successful person you know in your life or in the greater scheme of pop culture.. name a single one who wasn’t wildly disrespected or called crazy during their ascent to superstardom… You probably will come up short because ppl are very uncomfortable with nonconformity… Anything out of the norm is never rlly taken lightly..

All of them gunning for Miles just because he had the NERVE to want something different for himself.. it happens to all of us in the LOA community too.. We know that we can have anything we want.. anytime we want.. simply by thinking from the perspective of already being that person.. but there’s like this shackle of reason that drags us down because we take the laughs and snarky comments from others to mean that we should just give up on our dreams or that we’re too crazy…

BUT AGAIN.. JSKSKDKZ allllll of the ppl who have gone on to impact society in real tangible ways have all had to deal with people trying to write their story for them and dared to rebel.. Like not gwen’s dad about to live now just because miles broke the canon.. and who knows what will happen in the second movie (THAT COULD H E L P ALL THE OTHER SPIDEYS JUST BECAUSE HE HAD THE GUTS TO DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT)… In more practical terms.. everyone told steve jobs he was out of his mind for even talking about inventing the iPhone… not even 20 years later look how that’s effected Humanity as a whole.. Be sooooo ffr

I guess what I’m trying to get at here is… Don’t take your knowledge of these esoteric concepts lightly and base your path on the ones everyone around you is walking. Not everyone wants to be great chyle🤷🏾‍♀️ But You do. You’re doing the work to change and that could influence others around you in countless ways.. Stop letting people around you write your story even if it seems tempting…

All of your wildest dreams are available to you anyways you wouldn’t possibly be able to conceive of anything you desire if it wasn’t… Anyways

I am going to end this here… because it’s long. I hope any of this made sense bc it’s all over the place but this is also nothing more than my rambles…anyways bye

[bookandcover]

Some pre-notes:

In re-reading my own reflection that follows, I wonder if I've left out several first steps of my reaction to this book. Over the past few days, I keep thinking about what I wrote here, troubled by how little of my reaction and processing is about the racist heart of this novel (and the racism so ingrained in June that she's able to do any of the things she does in this book). In writing about this book, why isn't that what was most interesting to me? What I thought about the most? Was this the product of having already known that was the focus of this book before I read it, so the experience of reading it was about things I didn't see coming? Is it because my own framework of racism is so ingrained that the particulars of June's racism felt less urgent to me? (I don't actually believe so, but I worry about this.) Is it because I have seen this happen enough in publishing that I didn't feel new waves of horror (or feel the need to express that horror) because it seems now like the baseline? (But isn't that, too, problematically the product of racism? If you don't need to express the familiar horror again and again and again, isn't that because it's not really hurting you and you're feeling it mostly vicariously?)

I see the absence of something in what I've written below about this novel. I perceive a kind of leap over (through?) the fundamentals of this book, the central and hard truth of it, in my own thinking about it. I'm still unpacking why that leap is happening to me. I feel like I went through it, rather than skirting it. But I'm not sure, and I don't want to let myself off easy.

The reflection that follows:

This book has been universally lauded to me, yet I went in unsure of what to expect. It’s a tight, sharply delivered narrative that is a bit predictable. But this predictably is part of the book’s horror, as it hurtles through a series of actions and their consequences that feel familiar, and, in that, painfully inevitable. June Hayward watches Athena Liu die and, from that moment, it seems a foregone conclusion that June will become Juniper Song—racially-ambiguous, hot new author—and capitalize on the social capital she believed Athena to so easily and universally enjoy. 

What engaged me most about this book was its broader implications about truth and narrative. Truth, this book demonstrates, is slippery; what is “true” is the narrative and we choose the narrative that we want to see/hear/follow. 

It’s so appealing to imagine that we could go through life empowered by the truth, that our intentions would shine through the slippery narratives (in the case of these characters, the intentions are rarely good, but the bad is just as easy to conceal and misdirect from as the good). Instead of truth, there seems to exist nothing but slippery narratives. So why not keep layering? Why not keep spinning stories? Why not keep fabricating and counter-narrativizing, until there is no grounding thing on which to stand, no stable thing on which to pin yourself, or your story?

And, if you have bad intentions, you can use the slippery nature of truth to your advantage.

Social media works like this—a slippery non-reality and truth is whatever is accepted. “Whatever is accepted” can evolve; whatever seems on solid ground might have shifted twenty miles in the night. It is interesting to me how much this scares all of us (and me, especially) and how we try furiously to fact-check and verify, how we tell cautionary tales of this kind of unmoored life. This is the horror in this horror story: facing up to the slipperiness of our beliefs, how unlikely they are to be true, how insignificant “truth” is (how would we identify it anyway? And why bother if it’s irrelevant?). Slipperiness is more complex than claiming the popular narrative becomes the truth, because even the popular narrative will shift, even the popular narrative will be challenged and overthrown. The best any narrative can hope for is brief, glorious centrality.

Yet, the book’s ending seems to argue, there might be story frameworks that endure. While the reveal that Candice Lee plotted and schemed to destabilize June felt a bit too predictable to me (see: earlier point that this charge of predictability is not a critique, but a recognition of the inherent inevitability of a “Candice Lee” existing for a “June Hayward”), the very end of the story and June’s confidence that she can spin even Candice Lee’s story, that she can reclaim the narrative, layers onto the central complexities of this novel. This is June’s story, she insists at the very end. What does she mean by this? Is it the “white narrative” that dominates? Is it the narrative of those that wish for her innocence in a country built on white supremacy? Is it simply the fact that she is the narrator of this particular book we hold in our hands that means this is meant to be her story? 

This book is a wild sprint. From the first sentence it’s engrossing. I read the first 75 pages in a kind of fugue state, when I’d only intended to read briefly. I was unaware of time passing, and I emerged from the book as if from deep sticking mud, completely disoriented by my own extraction. Perhaps it is June’s story because the voice is hers (and what a choice on R. F. Kuang’s part to tell the story from this particular POV! (as if there’s one story, one narrative available to be differently perceived, rather than one story inherent to its POV…)) June’s sardonic voice and righteous and anxious perspective on events is compelling, with views surely distinct from R. F. Kuang’s own (and the reader intuits these differences on the basis of identity), but where—I kept asking—do the differences begin and end? Does R. F. Kuang believe this particular thing about the publishing industry? Surely she has experienced that particularly thing directly? The book kept causing me to interrogate authorial distance, the gap (or lack of gap, and my own assumptions on this) between author and narrator. For a book that so thoroughly examines authorship, and identity, this meta-reflection is a compelling hook. 

The book doesn’t let us get mired in the ethics of who deserves authorship, and what counts as stealing. Questions are raised, but with the overwhelming sense that there are no such things as answers. Don’t all authors steal? So, who can steal what and from whom? Isn’t what matters the extent to which these robberies reinforce and play into, feed on and survive by, existing hierarchies of power (race, gender, so called marketability) existing in our world already? And then, aren’t these ethics about those very social forces and not about authorship? What I found most compelling about this book was that it wasn’t going to try to solve these questions or even offer an examination of the questions themselves. Instead the book would show agents acting against the backdrop of these questions and power dynamics. The questions and nuances of whose story gets told, and how, and why, and to whom…these reflections have already occurred within these characters. The characters make choices and take action within this framework. This isn’t a moralizing book, I'd argue. It’s an exposing book; a story that mirrors the background back to us, a background of social/political commodification of everything (identity, art, trauma, character, personhood, appeal, popularity, the new) that is so universal, so magnanimous, as to be nearly invisible, underpinning everything in our modern daily lives. 

Drawing back the curtain on reality—the unhidden reality, the reality in plain sight, but so rarely cross-examined—is painful. Why do we love reading? Why do we read what we read? How do market trends and recommendations and advertising shape the tastes or preferences we think of as characteristic of, and definitive to, our selves? This unmasking might feel like a depressing project, yet there is nearly-humorous dramatic irony that operates throughout the book and becomes its own ground, conducting the searing electrical current safely. 

As readers, we are never on June’s side (never on Athena’s, never on Geoff’s, never on Candice’s, never on anyone’s). We see each character as both archetype and individual—the well-meaning, but brusque Brett, literary agent who will “tell it like it is” and follow the money, but not dump June at the drop of a hat; Daniella, the editor who plays every angle, calmly tackles the puzzle of publication consumption, knows how to "play the game" and all that entails; Rory, the white-picket-fence suburban mom and sister who will leap to her sister’s defense, but who needs to be told when to jump; Mrs. Liu, mother able to still fret over her daughter’s capacity to expose their family’s secrets even in the wake of her death. Like any good love story/ghost story, Athena's character is the sharpest drawn. Unlike the other figures that populate June’s life, Athena is, to June, less archetype and more human. She’s specific, strange, imperfect: human. June reflects on the experience of watching some particular person you know become flattered into the caricature of a celebrity, simple enough to digest. She finds this strange for Athena; yet she also sees the archetype that Athena fits and it’s this (the making of Athena into “publishing world’s darling” that June so deeply resents). Seeing the falseness of this process, she continues to wonder: why not me? June, looking for reasons, attributes this to race, rather than to chance (as Candice Lee later emphasizes, the chances for any author are slim. Candice, too, looks at Athena and thinks: “why not me?” She, too, links this to race, but the tokenism of racial inclusion/exclusion, that picks a diverse literary darling….but just one. 

For some readers, this book might result in trying to decide for themselves where, when, and how June went too far (in maintaining a "friendship" with Athena despite her deep resentment, in taking the manuscript of "The Last Front," in reworking it, in doubling down on her lies, in manipulating Mrs. Liu to keep Athena’s planning notebooks secret, in crafting Mother Witch from a single paragraph of Athena’s writing, in lashing out against Candice Lee, in cornering and threatening Geoff?) Readers might also try to calibrate their inner moral compass against Athena’s actions (Was it okay for her to interview Korean War veterans and transmute their suffering into a crystal sharp story? Was the proximity to June’s story of campus rape too close in Athena’s published piece? Is she mining for grief out of her own self-interest? Are the demands of an industry that commodifies others’ suffering, neatly packages, and sells it to readers to blame? Or some intangible combination?) So, too, we might consider each character's actions and put ourselves in their shoes—Would we do the same? Or would we know in real time we'd crossed a moral line?—whether the actions are Candice Lee’s fanatic need to expose June, and Brett and Daniella’s adherence to their roles and their reinforcement of a racist system that allows June's rebrand and survival as a novelist, or every other employee's choice to put their heads down, keep their jobs, and knowingly overlook the truth. Yet, I found this calibrating process, this inner moral reckoning, to be less the focus than the fact that—for whenever we draw our own line—a version of us exists within this novel. Every argument, every controversy played out in the public sector (normally Twitter) in this book inevitably has the full cast of characters, running the gamut from white apologist conservative to openly bigoted trolls to well-meaning busy bodies to individuals targeted by immense racism and sexism. Each time, all of them, and every nuance around and between, enter the conversation. What is more interesting to me in reflecting on this particular book is less where I stand ethically on these questions (also very important to learn about and do) and more the awareness that—no matter where I stand—there are people standing everywhere else. That’s a fascinating and paralyzing thought. Why do I jump to calibrate myself? To try to think about where I have been blind and might offend? Whether my perspective would be received well by others? Whether it would be popular? Isn’t this very impulse, this busy work of social understanding, the impossibility of always succeeding at this, the fear of failing and being criticized for your particular words and perspective, isn’t this what this book is about? And to realize that, no matter what, you will both fall short in the public court (inevitably) and have others more extreme than you and still others in agreement with you (inevitability) reduces this complex web of feelings down to both pointlessness and terror. You can’t possibly never be wrong. You can’t possibly be too wrong to never come back from your wrongness (at least, if you're white). Both things are troubling. Redemption for no one, and anyone, in the eyes of the public court. What a strange, unmoored feeling. 

This book leaves us in this unmoored place. It does not offer a lifeline; something like, we must make our own meaning system, our own guiding stars, step beyond this unmoored space. Of course this must be the answer, in some way, to the isolation of the unmoored place, and it’s—very simply—when folks on the internet say to “touch grass.” Get out of here for a bit, figure out what else can ground you, look at the world with the distance of perspective. It’s normally a shorthand call-out of a point you don’t agree with on the internet, but it's something we're all in need of when we’re as untethered as the characters in this novel. 

[biglisbonnews]

How this small Massachusetts city created homegrown solutions to urban problems Chelsea, Massachusetts, is a small city—just over 2 square miles large but teeming with almost 40,000 residents. It sits northeast of Boston, over the Tobin Bridge. Among its most noted citizens was Horatio Alger, whose famous rags-to-riches stories helped shape the American credo of self-reliance. Little is remembered, however, about the essential role that community played in each of Alger’s successes. Chelsea has a long and proud history of providing new generations of working-class Americans and recent immigrants a chance at the American Dream. When I grew up there, the signs of businesses and bars that adorned storefronts bore the surnames of Irish and Eastern European families who had arrived looking to make a better life for their children. Today, many of those same storefronts remain but the signs reflect a different generation of residents: people from Puerto Rico, El Salvador, Honduras, and elsewhere who share their predecessors’ dreams of a better life. [Photo: Mark Hunt/Getty Images] What has remained consistent is the essentialness of Chelsea—not just for its dreamers but for the entire region. Within its borders is the fuel for airplanes going out of Logan, oil that heats homes throughout the region, produce from the New England Produce Center that is shipped to stores through the Northeast, and even mountains of rock salt that is used to protect the roads throughout the state. Chelsea has also endured its share of tragedy. Its dense quarters have seen an increase in violent crime, and it was hit extraordinarily hard during the pandemic due to its high concentration of essential workers. In response, its citizens have generated a series of valuable social innovations that have started to successfully address the city’s most pressing problems—and which could serve as important models for how to approach such issues in other cities across the country. But even as its citizens succeed, the city faces a more fundamental question: whether future generations will be able to reap the benefits of an improving city, or whether they will be priced out. To tackle violence, organizations like Roca forged productive partnerships with the police and justice system to address the underlying needs of the most at-risk youth, significantly reducing recidivism rates and improving life outcomes by introducing cognitive behavioral theory to teach young people life-saving emotional skills. According to external evaluation results, young men participating in Roca’s program have 37% lower recidivism rates than comparable men. And while 66% of Roca youth have violent criminal histories, only 13% commit another violent offense. Most recently Chelsea was one of the hardest-hit communities during the pandemic. A short PBS film created by documentarians Sabrina Avilés and Jenny Alexander demonstrates the impact of COVID-19 on the city, opening with startling statistics that four out of five workers there were deemed essential at the outset of the pandemic. These workers’ responsibility for bringing the food, fuel, transportation, and care to others placed an often deadly burden on themselves and their families. At one point the infection rate within Chelsea was 600% higher than the statewide average. [Photo: DenisTangneyJr/iStock/Getty Images Plus] During the pandemic, Gladys Vega, executive director of local nonprofit La Colaborativa, began distributing donated goods off her back porch. Recognizing the inefficiency of that approach, she worked with city leaders like Roy Avellaneda, then president of the City Council, and others to design Chelsea Eats, which gave debit cards to about 2,000 families in need so they could more efficiently get the food and supplies their family urgently needed. They had de facto created one of the country’s largest basic income experiments. According to a report from Harvard University, “After the six-month pilot, Chelsea Eats participants said they were better off financially, were less likely to report food insecurity, and reported no negative impact on their willingness to work.” There are a few factors that cut across these social innovations and others like them that can explain their effectiveness—and serve as lessons for other cities attempting to incubate their own. The first is that most solutions are community-conceived, led, and implemented. Chelsea has benefited from remarkable continuity in its community leaders. People like Vega from La Colaborativa and Molly Baldwin of Roca have been working and living in Chelsea for more than 30 years. Many school and city leaders have also historically been born and raised in Chelsea. This continuity and proximity is critical to servicing the community. One program, called The Hub, inspired by a Canadian practice, regularly brings together people working across social services and members of the police department to identify and address community members in need or at risk. The second is the primary role women have played in Chelsea’s resilience. In addition to Vega and Baldwin, there is Roseann Bongiovanni, executive director of GreenRoots, a community-based organization “dedicated to improving and enhancing the urban environment and public health in Chelsea.” And there is Devra Sari Zabot, founder of Clark Street Productions, who has been active in trying to revitalize the cultural scene of the city through projects ranging from downtown flower planting and dance nights to poetry readings and stand-up shows. And there are many among others. Finally, there is the concentration and activation of community power. Chelsea is one of the most densely populated communities in the state. Tight-knit is a term that often feels soft, but here it also represents strength. There is a culture woven from social cohesion, where citizens support and fight for one another. Last May, when it was discovered that the Massachusetts Department of Transportation dumped a huge mound of construction debris containing asbestos across the street from a public housing complex, citizens of all stripes demanded action and accountability. Their “Chelsea MA: What’s Happening” Facebook page often reflects the promise of social media—where residents ask for and receive help from one another, whether that’s assisting someone facing eviction; posting job or volunteer opportunities; or raising funds for a family suffering the recent loss of a loved one. This innovation does not come without a price, literally and figuratively. As the city improves, so too does its desirability. Ironically, certain conditions within Chelsea—its real and perceived violence, limited housing stock, the presence of certain environmental hazards from the mountains of salt, airport noise, and fuel trucks—have insulated it from widespread gentrification. That has changed over the past several years. The very people who have made Chelsea what it is today fear that their children will not be able to afford to live there long enough to reap the benefits or that those who move there will not embrace the community but instead extract from it. As Vega said, referring to residents in a new condo complex, “They don’t come downtown, they don’t support our businesses. To them Chelsea is a hotel.” They may technically live in Chelsea, but they work and socialize in Boston and other surrounding towns. There is concern that ultimately Chelsea may become unrecognizable like some of its adjacent communities where longtime residents have been priced out. Baldwin of Roca noted that recently she was driving in nearby East Boston. Although she was on streets she’d traversed for decades, she said she “felt lost”—a reflection of how unrecognizable the neighborhood had become. It remains to be seen whether the same level of ingenuity and resilience will be able to tackle the elemental issue of affordable housing. Avellaneda, the former City Council president, is also a real estate broker, and he estimates that 80% of residents’ are renters rather than homeowners—a percentage that has steadily increased over the past several years. [Photo: DenisTangneyJr/iStock/Getty Images Plus] Chelsea’s traditional housing stock consisted largely of three family homes, which allowed prospective buyers an opportunity to live on one floor while they rented the other two to help with the mortgage. This arrangement, which afforded families like Avellaneda’s the opportunity to build equity and establish roots in the community, is no longer an option for most residents given rising housing costs. The fear Avellaneda and others share is that Chelsea is becoming increasingly transitory, where people can’t “buy into the community.” It’s a sentiment that is both literal and figurative. What is the Chelsea Eats equivalent of affordable housing? What program can be put in place that will allow more of its residents not just to live in Chelsea but to own a home? The kind of benefit that creates the intergenerational wealth that so many others have benefited from. Back in the 1970s, Chelsea developed programs that incentivized developers to build affordable housing and at the same time facilitate home ownership. Today, the incentives are much different. Avilés and Alexander have been filming in Chelsea for more than three years for a longer documentary. Among those they follow are perhaps Chelsea’s next generation of leaders. Brandie Garcia is a student with Indigenous heritage who advocated for the successful removal of the Christopher Columbus statue in Chelsea Square. Last year Judith Garcia (no relation) was elected as Chelsea’s first state representative. Previously Chelsea was split into multiple districts and represented by officials from other towns. In 2020, as part of a statewide redistricting process designed to create minority-majority districts, Chelsea was designated its own district and is now represented by one of its own. Avilés and Alexander’s film shows Garcia being sworn in, after which she turns back to her parents in the gallery and mouths, “I love you.” These women represent not just the future of Chelsea but also an undeniable tie to its past—one that provides hope and inspiration for its residents as well as for others who build communities in the hope that their children can enjoy the fruits of their labor. Moving Up in Communities is a series sharing stories of innovation and advancement in communities across the country. This series is supported by the journalism nonprofit Economic Hardship Reporting Project. https://www.fastcompany.com/90890786/chelsea-massachusetts-social-innovation-roca-la-colaborativa?partner=rss&utm_source=rss&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=rss+fastcompany&utm_content=rss

[pumpkinupsidedowncake]

Live(ish)blogging my reaction to The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost, for posterity, part one: the long ass introduction I feel obligated to read.

Introduction by Louis Untermeyer:

Every time I read the lore behind poems I know, which is three times, I learn something that fundamentally alters my perception of the work. Only once have I appreciated the insight. This occasion was not that time.

Additionally, and I don’t know why I’m surprised by this, but this guy is such a Robert Frost simp. I truly don’t think there’s a better word to describe it. When explaining how at first only one magazine wanted to publish any of Frost’s work, Untermeyer basically calls all the other magazines cowards with shitty taste:

They were totally uninterested in poetry that refused to repeat the pretty platitudes of verse; they were afraid to consider a new kind of pastoral poetry which, instead of using the shopworn stereotypes of exaggerated country sentiment, showed the country in its quiet, sometimes drab, but always true colors.

Like, wow. Rip to those other poets. Who, you know, were well-liked enough to get published and all that. But no, I’m sure their art was nothing but unimaginative drivel, Frost’s number one hype man says so and surely he wouldn’t be biased.

Moving on: how the hell is “poetic radiator” a job description?! Now I’m picturing Frost sitting against the wall, making loud humming noises and intermittently saying things like “Poems are cool, yo! You should write one!”

Okay, finally some valuable insight. By my definition of valuable which is extremely relative.

Preferring a reality of experience to a retreat to a fantastic dream-world …

Idk if that’s the right way to end that quote. fuck it we ball. This quote is referring to Frost, and it interests me because of what it could say about Arthur’s gravitation towards Frost’s poetry in Malevolent. It also explains why I’ve never felt particularly drawn to Frost.

Yeah, I should say this for context: the only reason I am reading this book, the only reason I bought it at half price books in the first place, is because I enjoyed the poetry included in that podcast. Well, that’s half the reason. The other is that I don’t really get Frost. I appreciate his artistry, but the emotions he conveys are not immediately relatable to me.

Take, for example: the big one. Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening. The first time I learned of it was through the story behind Eric Whitacre’s choral piece Sleep. I don’t remember if I read it then or not, if I did it made no impression on me. Years later when I actually read and reflected on it, an admittedly childish dominated my mind:

why not just go into the woods for a time?

It’s bad weather, just get wherever you’re going late and blame it on the snow or forgetting something. Cell phones don’t even exist yet, you’re free! Nobody needs to know. The miles will be there when you get back.

I know what the poem is saying. I can understand the experience it’s speaking to, even. But unless I really try to get what it’s going for, I don’t. And that’s why I’m here, reading the longest introduction known to humankind, instead of working on the large assignments due tomorrow, as Robert Frost intended-in-reverse-as-in-definitely-would-not-appreciate-especially-since-he-was-apparently-a-teacher.

I want to get Frost’s poetry, or at the very least make my best attempt at it. I’m a nerd, I basically get a stat boost to this type of thing. I can do this. All I have to do is make it through this introduction. And then the actual poetry collection.

I did it. The introduction is finished. I’m being overdramatic, there were only like two pages left. The last thought I have to offer today is on the last line of the excerpt from Frost’s “The Lesson For Today”:

I had a lover’s quarrel with the world.

It’s described as what he wants written on his tombstone. My first thought was “same”, my second was “wait a minute, is this just a universal thing?” and my third was “no, it’s because I refuse to pick a struggle.” Meaning not everyone would describe their existence as such, but plenty of people probably would.

So yeah. This has been a journey and it’s literally just passing through the gateway. Thanks for watching, like and subscribe, I will be back with more at some point.

[swaggermagazinesblog]

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[gothicprep]

god, i feel like i'm in a very weird position being someone who's always largely disliked true crime, but think 99% of the criticisms of it aren't very insightful and never get to the heart of what, in my opinion, is actually wrong with the genre.

usually you just get one or more of the following:

"something about the way it's structured/presented encourages people to be intrusive and nosy with real tragedies in the lives of real people"

something about most of the victims in true crime stories being white women

"it glorifies murderers and doesn't emphasize the victims properly"

something about how the genre says a lot about how society engages with women.

it's not necessarily that these statements are incorrect (although imo the last one is only really true in the same way that all media is going to reflect the cultural biases of the world that produced it to some extent) but more that it applies to, like, a specific subset of content in a really, really massive genre. it makes sense to say these things about those weirdly glib "murder and silly unicorn cupcakes lol" podcasts and youtube channels but it doesn't translate super well to, like, dateline and 48hrs that have massive back catalogues and can vary a lot in tone and focus depending on which episode you pick. or something like last podcast that does openly focus on the criminals, but does so in a way that's committed to ridiculing them.

some of this can be explained away by the fact that a lot of those overly chipper true crime things are made by white women, and have audiences where white women are the biggest consumer demographic, so the content and the communities around it can descend into this weird trauma self-actualization circle jerk where everyone projects their baggage onto the victim. and it kind of dovetails into this thing that women do very often amongst themselves where they unintentionally (at least i hope) stoke each others anxieties about how dangerous the world is. incidentally, i think the emphasizing victims critique is kind of an offshoot of the desire to do this kind of thing – it's hard to milk catharsis out of an investigation procedural.

it should go without saying that i find this to be pretty unethical and not a particularly emotionally healthy use for your brain cells, but obviously not every true crime thing is presented like that, and not everyone who consumes this stuff does it for that reason.

that and, like, people being nosy is just something that comes with the territory of true stories getting a lot of public attention. this happens even in really mundane ways – you can't tell me you've never watched an episode of bar rescue or kitchen nightmares that featured an absolute basket case of an establishment and google it to see if it was still open. obviously this is morally worse when you're cyber lurking on people whose relative or friend died, but to call it an issue of true crime specifically isn't entirely honest.

so with all that prattle out of the way, here's what i think is the fatal flaw of the genre: i'd say the majority of people gravitate towards true crime stuff because they're either a fan of mystery stories or they hear about, idk, the ken and barbie killers and think "what has to go so wrong with someone's development that they do... that?". the problem is that even a really, really well done true crime thing is almost never as satisfying as a competently written mystery story, and the latter question is fundamentally impossible to answer in a way that makes a remote amount of sense to people who don't have impulses like that. there's an implicit cap on how much you can get out of it in, like, any meaningful way.

a lesser issue is that a lot of other documentaries ape the general tone and aesthetic of popular true crime content and it just... does not work. the three mile island mini docuseries on netflix was a hot ass mess because it was clearly attempting something like this. like obviously, i'm not a nuclear physicist and the overlapping aspects of nuclear physics that are germane to astro are not a crash course on how power plants work. but so much foundational stuff was left out – like, surely something like this should have some "explain it to me like i'm five" explanation on nuclear reactions and how second gen reactors work, right?

and i think some of these discussions about what true crime Says About Society also just tend to make true crime worse than it already is by structuring them with meta self-aware bullshit baked in. i remember my old roommate watching don't fuck with cats during lockdown, and the final scene is one of the interviewees turning to the camera and saying "are the people at home watching this complicit?"

like, no baby, i'm relatively certain i'm not. i have better things to do with my free time than play online cat and mouse games with canadian sociopaths. tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night, i guess.

[ramblingguy54]

Sonic & Tails R: A Love Letter To Miles Tails Prower’s Characterization

     Warning: This will contain massive spoilers for the short radio play series of Sonic & Tails R. If you haven’t listened to the radio play yet on Youtube, I’d highly recommend any hardcore Sonic fan who hasn’t seen it check it out. It’s one Hell of a treat.

     For as far back as I can remember in my childhood, Tails’ story of trying to step outta Sonic’s shadow has been such a resonating one for myself. Even when I was a much younger kid playing my Dreamcast, during entries like Sonic Adventure 1 & 2, there was some idea lingering about why Tails just stood out more emotionally in his journey to grow beyond depending on Sonic all the time for help. Now here I am a young adult in my late twenties having such a deeper appreciation of this little two tailed genius kiddo because he’s got an important element that’s made him so beloved for good reason.

     In spite of his genius being a rival to that of Eggman’s high IQ and of course proving to surpass it plenty of times when scenarios boil down to being a high stakes battle, Miles Tails Prower beneath it all is still just like any one of us. We’re all trying to find our place in this world about what defines us for who we are as unique people. He wants to be more than just seen as someone who’s alongside Sonic The Hedgehog’s never say die attitude, but prove he’s plenty capable of standing on his own two feet to protect everything the kid holds dear to himself. Underdog stories, when they’re naturally executed very well, can reel me in so easily. They are very much my bread & butter trope I adore seeing.

     To no one’s surprise, the two Sonic Adventure’s iterations portrayal of Tails’ characterization are hands down some of my favorite writing for the two tailed fox, regarding what the 3D era has done toward him, development wise. It gave him more of an existential struggle to endure like, “What happens when Sonic isn’t around to help stop Eggman? What if I’m not strong enough to accomplish what he can?”, making Tails plight to be seen as an equal all the more endearing when stopping Eggman in his climatic battle against the Egg Walker in Station Square. This here is a great use of a timeless lesson you can apply in life that if you set you heart and mind on anything, there isn’t a thing you can’t accomplish on your own, which is why many fell in love with Sonic Adventure 1 & 2′s writing for Miles Tails Prower’s journey of independence.

     As someone who comes from a large family tree of relatives, I feel the weight of my existence on my shoulders at a number of points more than I’d care to count, admittedly. Seeing Tails struggle with his sense of purpose, in contrast to observing how much Sonic has accomplished with his carefree, yet deeply compassionate attitude, means the world to me in watching another trying to comprehend their value as a whole on how much they matter, overall. This is a big part of why my fondness for SA1 & 2′s quality has never wavered over these years, besides still obviously enjoying most of their game play mechanics. People can try to debate to their heart’s content on whether the Adventure games still hold up in their own eyes, but I’ll always respect them for how they tried to develop certain characters, such as Tails, Gamma, and Shadow The Hedgehog notably, to attempt expanding upon their characters, as well as world building.

     I won’t bother going into a rant about how Sonic’s recent 3D games have butchered Tails’ personality & relatable nature, due to the current writers in charge of handling the cast of characters. More or less, I greatly empathize toward the notion many have already stated about Tails being so cowardly and God forbid, looking at Lost World, downright severely mean spirited. Rather, I’m obviously writing this lengthy post to breakdown why Sonic & Tails R succeeds, where these certain 3D games have greatly faltered in exploring Tails’ emotional dilemmas as an insecure, yet still having the courage to prove himself, talented boy full of hidden potential he doesn’t quite realize, until his back is against the wall in life threatening situations.

“That day, I realized I couldn’t depend on you forever. Not that I can’t depend on you, but like, “What happens when Sonic isn’t here?”, you know?”

     Sonic & Tails R further delves into this fundamental rule of what has defined Tails in Sonic Adventure 1 & 2′s stories of events where Sonic wasn’t there to aid his best bud in taking down Eggman’s evil efforts for global domination, most importantly his fear of defending the Earth without his role model. Besides what I already stated in SA1′s events in Station where he stopped the Egg Walker, as well as the missile Eggman launched from detonating before their climatic battle, Tails watched Sonic blow up in ARK’s capsule presuming him to be dead after Sonic imparted how much faith he has in the kid’s abilities to be truly strong in the face of any foe. Sonic & Tails R manages to use fan service in a way that doesn’t feel like “pandering” for the sake of it, using this past canon material to do more of an in-depth study about Miles’ anxieties of existing without Sonic.

     Wouldn’t put it past them if EmuEmi & crew were using SA2′s Sonic death fake out scene in that space capsule to further add trauma to Tails’ psychological attachment to Sonic, as well as his insecurities of depending on him too much, to boot. While it’s never obviously outright stated in their radio play, I definitely believe they were factoring this element into adding dramatic exploration for why Tails is so self-conscious about the worst case scenario of permanently losing Sonic. Watching Sonic supposedly die put Tails into a deeper state of self-reflection, so I very much enjoyed how they went using these past events to create a thorough exploration about him learning just as it’s important to realize you need to stand up for yourself without using someone else as a crutch all the time, it’s doubly important to remember there’s nothing wrong about asking someone for help when you’re about to be down and out with little options left.

     Sonic & Tails R beautifully builds upon the foundation these two games’ stories left behind years ago, creating new damn great material to explore with the most iconic characters of this cast, Sonic & Tails brotherly dynamic. I’ve been praising Sonic & Tails R out the wazoo for how well it captured Tails underdog story of overcoming death defying odds, but it managed to remind me how simply adorable and outright wonderfully endearing their brotherly chemistry is as a whole. This is a big friendly reminder Sonic isn’t all about being cocky wise cracking character making meta jokes left and right, but he can be plenty capable of showing serious compassion to anyone he values as an ally and friend. This is no greater evident, than with him verbally lifting Tails up in his time of need when he’s self-depreciating his own significance. It can be seen in Episodes 2, 4, and 7 giving Tails motivational pieces of advice.

    Episode 2 In Adabat’s Cavern

-Sonic: Wasn’t it your radar that helped us find these Emerald shards in the first place? How could you be slowing us down when you’ve gotten us this far?

-Tails: But, I...

-Sonic: I could never make something like that. You’re the smartest person I know, Tails. One way or another, we’ll figure this out, count on it.

         Episode 4 In Holoska After Helping Silver Save The Chao

-Sonic: So, what was that back there? At the cave, in Adabat? -Tails: What do you mean? -Sonic: Frozen stiff. Confidence shot. It’s not like you. It was more than feeling like you were “slowing us down”, right?

        Episode 7 Inside The Egg Carrier 3

-Sonic: Let’s split up! I’ll distract them and you can go after the energy source. -Tails: You’re gonna take them on all by yourself!? Let me help, Sonic! -Sonic: No time for this, Tails. Stop overthinking and just go! If I can get their attention, I’ll take the heat off of you and that room you’re going to probably won’t have any security. Take this emerald and I’ll take the other one we have. It’ll lead me right to you after I beat these guys. -Tails: O-Okay... -Sonic: Hold on, Tails! Listen to me. Don’t stop moving and be careful. I’ll be fine and so will you!

     Sonic & Tails R remembers the most crucial detail of their important relationship. One isn’t better than the other and needing to always rely upon that notion for helping one outta a jam, but instead showcases how they’re equals as a team/bros. Sonic may be super fast and strong, however Tails has his intelligence to analyze situations in a different angle Sonic wouldn’t necessarily consider, per say. Which isn’t to say Tails couldn’t put up a fight either, as we’ve seen in SA1 & SA2′s stories where he faced Eggman one on one with no outside help to best him at his own game of wits & strength.

     We get see the apex of this idea through Tails facing Eggman in his super improved mecha walker. Although Tails may get thrown for a loop here at first by Eggman, it’s his villainous speech about winners and losers in their world that ironically does the exact opposite of what he intended. Eggman wanted to crush Tails’ sense of self worth before finishing him off, but all it did was reignite the very lesson Sonic told him earlier before running to distract Eggman’s robotic minions. That said lesson of he’s more than capable of facing dangerous threats

-Eggman: Poor boy. We all have to learn this lesson, sooner or later. In every game there’s no one you can depend on. You’re all alone and you’re either a winner, or a loser. And as you know, loser’s lose all of their lives. Say goodbye, fox!

-Tails: You’re wrong! I can depend Sonic! I won’t let him down! I can’t because...Because he’s depending on me! And because of that I won’t lose to you!

     This radio play strikes a good balance in utilizing the grey moral area about depending on someone vs it being an unhealthy display of attachment derived from serious insecurity. Word’s can’t begin to describe how much I loved this moment to pieces because it’s oh so important for writing Tails’ characterization. If you’re going to tackle him being super self conscious about his reliance on Sonic, then you gotta remember why they are so close to one another to begin with. Sonic & Tails have an unbreakable connection, considering they’ve brought out their best qualities in themselves from being together as individuals. For Sonic, it’s his older brother compassion to Tails to bring him outta feeling melancholy. For Tails, the kid finally understands there isn’t anything wrong with depending on Sonic when he needs it most.

     After all, that’s what a real healthy friendship is all about. Whether you’re giving someone a dose of tough love, or simply a piece of motivational advice, it defines how much you truly care about someone, period. Sonic & Tails have this very same power from their bond, which is why new emeralds form from their compassionate friendship that hasn’t been shaken after all the years they’ve been together. Another detail worth noting is it adds to the lore in an impactful manner when Tikal expresses in Episode 8 about positive connections and thoughts from users of the Chaos Emeralds having a strong will & heart. Using the ideas they had for encapsulating Sonic & Tails’ dynamic to create new emeralds from their love for each other as brothers adds an emotional weight.

“So, Sonic’s not the only one who harness the power of the Chaos Emeralds? I can too!?”

“Yes, you have a strong heart! There is a power waiting to be unlocked within you, as well.”

          I’d always daydreamed about in my childhood seeing Super Sonic & Tails take down a threatening villain, whether it was Eggman or different powerful creature such as Chaos or the Biolizard. You can imagine how fucking giddy I was beyond belief to see this artwork of Episode 9′s cover for the radio play. Tails not only got to have another one on one with Eggman, but a team up with Super Sonic in his own respective Super form? Sign me the Hell up! Talk about an all you eat buffet of good writing for Tails’ journey reaching its climax. Getting to hear this play out, alongside the amazing song of Fly With Me, made it authentically feel like something straight outta if there were an installment of Sonic Adventure 3 being brought into reality, which certainly feels like it now.

     Episode 9 has so much awesome stuff with Sonic & Tails working together in their super forms. Particularly, my favorite scene is at the beginning when Sonic teaches Tails how to navigate his newly acquired speed in his respective Super form. My heart melted hearing Sonic help Tails through it all, while he was overjoyed about how fun this new form is for himself. Wholesome Sonic & Tails content is the perfect daily serotonin for me, easily. It’s an awesome fun fact to know they used a scrapped boss from Tails Tornado segment in SA1 for Eggman’s flying dragon three headed robot in their big final battle, once again using old canon material in a very effective manner to boost the quality of their fan made story.

     It’s been a real thrill to hear Mike Pollock play a straight forward serious Eggman making my day in more ways than one, considering that’s another thing I’ve been yearning for desperately besides Tails being a competent character again. His performance in Episode 9 when Eggman gave that speech about how long he’s been at odds with Sonic & Tails stubborn will power was simply excellent. The moment he told his mechanical dragon to crush them I got serious chills. That’s the Eggman I remember and grew up with. He could be a hammy villain sure, but Eggman wasn’t a doormat that could be swiftly beaten. Robotnik can be considered a serious threat in his own right and this radio play nailed it down to the very letter with how much he predicted their actions.

“Sonic, all I ever wanted to do was be like you. You’re not scared of anyone or anything. I could never be like that. At least, so I thought. I grew from that, but then I got so caught up in trying to prove it that thought it wasn’t okay to depend upon anyone, especially you. I just didn’t want to be that scared little kid in Station Square anymore, but now I understand. It’s okay to depend on your friends. It all means is that we’re stronger together, so the next time Eggman comes back and wants to start any trouble with you, or any of my friends. Emeralds or no emeralds, he’s gonna have to get past me and he won’t!”

Sonic By Episode 1′s End: Aww, yeah! Adventure, here we come!

Tails By Episode 10′s End: Aww, yeah! Adventure, here I come!

Turn your thoughts into power. Be all that you can be.

     The ending legit got me choked up because what of they decided to do for wrapping up Tails journey in a poetic fashion. Having Tails go off on his own separate journey to grow more independence pulled on my heart strings perfectly. Very much so, as I’m transitioning slowly, but surely, into gaining more freedom to go out into the outside world in my own life. Concluding the story, by Sonic & Tails holding onto the two Emeralds their bond had formed from positive energy, due to their powerful friendship, was so heartwarming. This is how you write an overview of what makes Sonic & Tails chemistry work so well as it does.

     Sonic & Tails R’s ending represents while some things never change, like Sonic and Tails bond for each other, it also shows there’s very much a necessity for people to grow, hence Tails’ whole solo journey in the epilogue. People can’t stay in the same place forever and will need go about finding their own path, even if it means saying “goodbye” periodically for a notable amount of time.

     It’s for these reasons I’ve listed in great explanation above throughout this detailed post cement Sonic & Tails R high on my list of favorite Sonic fan projects. They captured the magic of what made the Adventure games so beloved. Gonna be looking back on this passion project for many years to come. Everyone involved in this year long effort of a project dating all the way back Summer of 2020 ought to be immensely proud for how much their hard efforts paid off in the long run.

Thanks for taking the time to read my thoughts here! 

Hope you enjoyed. 

[white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen]

Imagine Catching Neal's Eye at the Library

(Alternative Title: Reading is Fundamental)

Word Count: 992

A/N: Requested by anonymous. I'm actually thinking of using this as a sort of prologue to a oneshot for another request. This just barely missed the mark of being a short oneshot, so enjoy this long imagine!

The Harry Belafonte Public Library, located a mile away from June’s, was comfortably within his radius and the route to it just happened to pass right by a little Hungarian bakery. Books and Wi-Fi seemed to cost an exorbitant amount of money when rent and a phone plan ate up over ninety percent of his stipend, so no matter how much Neal would prefer to own his own books, he was resigned to making use of the library. The interior design, at least, was a refreshingly minimalist take compared to the clutter of the outside world.

Neal leisurely followed the signs around a couple of bends to find the computer desks. A couple were unoccupied, so luckily he wasn’t going to have to wait. As he pulled out a chair, he looked to his right at the woman using the computer bank at the far end. While he gracefully sat and pulled up his seat, he couldn’t help but look her over a second time.

She was so beautiful. Her H/C hair was hastily pinned out of her eyes and mostly covered in a slouchy knit beanie that matched the color of her bookbag. One of her hands was controlling the computer mouse, while the other one held a fine-point pen over a notebook. Her eyes looked between screen and paper swiftly as she multitasked, and her lips moved just a little as she read in a way that reminded him achingly of Kate.

The artist had wanted a computer for a reason. Mindful that he shouldn’t expect the bureau to respect his privacy, even on a public terminal, Neal reigned in the impulses to visit any sites or make any searches that may be considered suspect while combing current events, brushing up on the art scene in New York, and even browsing some art supplies at an online store.

The whole time he made use of the computer bank, he kept catching his attention drifting to his right. He gleaned several things between his inconspicuous glances and looks through reflections. Chiefly among them was that the woman was named Y/N. She had taken her planner out of her bag and he had seen the name embossed on the front. Secondly was that she was either a researcher, a student, or a very avid hobbyist, because she were so absorbed in her searching and notetaking that she didn’t notice his repeated looks, even when Neal knew he should have been being more subtle. Y/N either lived with a pet or had recently been to the dwelling of someone who did, and she liked live music – her shirt was from a concert.

Y/N left just over an hour after he had sat down, leaving Neal mulling over what little he had learned and why he felt so drawn to the woman. Maybe it was because she wasn’t a fed, like the many he was surrounded by. Maybe it was his inner romantic, wishing to have a sweet meet-cute story such as using side-by-side computers at the library. Whatever it was, Neal left picturing her face and the way she had scrunched her nose when she read something she hadn’t liked.

On the next day Neal had off from work, he decided to go back to the library again. An important part of being a competent conman and forger was to be up-to-date on major events and news within the art world. Reading was a familiar and crucial pastime.

He went straight to the computer banks now that he knew where they were, and only when he didn’t see Y/N did he realize he was disappointed she wasn’t there. Neal made a slight face at himself as he sat down. Meeting her may have been nice, but he hadn’t struck up a conversation when he’d had the opportunity and he had no business pining to see a woman whose name he only knew because he had been benignly spying.

That Sunday, the library was unusually busy and Neal had to wait to use a computer. In the meantime, he decided to apply for a library card, browse their selections, and pick out a few books. After checking them out, he went back towards the computers and found a seat, where he started reading while waiting for someone to finish with their screen.

Movement caught his eye as a girl vacated her spot, and that was when he clocked the knit beanie. It was the right color – he looked to her face and saw it was Y/N. After a second he realized he had frozen, so Neal picked up his books and took them with him to the empty space by the computer.

He didn’t have a very good view of her from where he was this time. Neal considered making up an excuse to talk to her so he would know what her voice sounded like, but for some reason he just couldn’t bring himself to deliberately pickpocket her, then return her wallet on her way out.

Partly because Mozzie wanted to try a seafood bar on Saturday, and partly because Neal had either a hope or a hunch that Y/N had a library routine on Sundays, Neal went back to the library exactly a week after he had last been, this time arriving earlier. He was able to get a computer almost right away, but there was no sign of Y/N or her comfy hat.

Neal read online for long enough that he lost track of time, becoming interested and invested in the articles and soaking up what he was learning. International incidents were always fun to read about. It was when a chair scraped that he next looked up – and there she was, sans hat this time, but still with the bag.

International incidents suddenly didn’t seem nearly as interesting as what could happen next, if he could just get over his inexplicable nervousness when it came to meeting this beautiful woman.

[maxwell-grant]

The crossover fic + learning he's a favorite of yours has me curious: do you think it would be possible to tell a satisfactory Shadow vs. Mr. Mxyzptlk story? I think he'd fit surprisingly well in that milieu as a credible threat: he's something of an older, mistier, shadowy world, kin to fairies and elves and imps, pixies and sprites and genies, bound by old laws and dressed like a parody of 20s/30s class, beyond The Shadow's usual powers and yet...THAT. There a thematic in to this throwdown?

I had never actually thought of Mxy in that light, even though it's very much in line with what he is, because Mxy is one of those characters I don't tend to think about much. He's one of those ready-made perfect villains who pretty much guarantees a fun and creative time whenever he pops up uninvented. Like The Ventriloquist for Batman, he is so uniquely a product of how Superman works and what his stories allow for, that I can't say I ever thought of taking him for a spin outside of them. But there's definitely stuff to work with in putting him and The Shadow together.

Come to think of it, if there's a Superman villain I think Walter Gibson would have liked to play around with, it would be Mxyzptlk. Mxy stories are fundamentally about Superman being thrust into a position where his only way out is to solve puzzles and turn the tables using nothing but his wits, and Gibson spent the majority of his career before and after The Shadow as a writer of books on magic and puzzles, both of which show up a lot in The Shadow stories. You see it even in several covers which contained clues for the stories within.

To an extent, you could argue that The Shadow might figure out quicker a way to trick Mxy, because The Shadow's already has to utilize a constant amount of trickery and deceit and puzzle-solving in his daily adventures, it comprises almost the majority of what his stories are about under Gibson. The usual Mxyzptlk narrative is one that's well within The Shadow's domain.

But on the other hand, it's definitely some extremely unusual territory for The Shadow, villain-wise. A villain who eclipses his powers and scope to such an extent is completely unheard of. The one time I can think of where he fought a villain this weird and who he was completely powerless against was when he met Suven The Clown King of Venus (who's definitely a character that could show up in this meeting), and even then Suven was just a weird alien who looked gigantic next to the shrunken Shadow. Even on the few occasions where The Shadow encountered other aliens or eldritch monsters, he was able to find a way to stop the threat for the moment or even kill it, which is definitely not happening here, because Mxy is a whole other level.

Superman has the strength and endurance and superpowers to roll with whatever mayhem Mxy throws his way. If Mxy decides that The Shadow’s looking too pale so he's gonna give him a tan by throwing him in the sun, what the hell is he gonna do to stop him? I imagine that Mxy would likely take a different approach to messing with The Shadow, since he can't tank nukes like Supes and he's not really a good sport about the game. 

Fine, whatever, Mxy's a creative sort, he's got a couple of ideas for messing around with Mr Grim-n-Serious over there, show him what an Eldritch Monster looks like past the squid monsters and dragons he may have met.

The idea I'm getting here is, on one hand, Mxy attacking The Shadow with the usual goofiness he brings with him. And on the other, him realizing that messing with The Shadow's dignity isn't as fun as he thought he'd be, so he instead goes full SCP Foundation/Awful Hospital/Ice Cream Man on The Shadow until he's stopped, trapping him in amusing and horrifying eldritch nightmares and situations that he has absolutely no way to escape until he solves the puzzle. 

I mean, he's not fighting Superman here, he can kill this guy with a blink, even just stopping his heart with a thought. No fun in that. He's gotta beat the "Master of Darkness" at his own game. He's got a point to prove.

I imagine that much of the story would play out of The Shadow having to piece together what exactly has gone topsy-turvy in his reality, whether it's Commissioner Weston eating spiders for breakfest or the entirety of Manhattan sans him going blind and all lights going out across the country. And when Mxy comes out with that shrill SURPROISE!!!, assuming The Shadow already knows what he needs to do, then he falls for whatever gambit The Shadow's had to cook up to trick him. 

At the end, Mxy is an arrogant bully who lords power over those that can't fight back, and The Shadow's a master of beating those by turning their arrogance against them. It's Duck Amuck, except Bugs is a mind-breaking sadist and Daffy has to fight back.

I imagine something akin to a particularly funny scene from a story called Face of Doom, where a gangster traps The Shadow in a room surrounded by armed henchman so he can enlist him into taking down the city's leading criminal, The Face. The Shadow unmasks himself as Cranston to gain his trust, and the two proceed to talk plans. I'll post the sequence below

Calmly, The Shadow was removing his slouch hat. His arms spread, the black cloak began to drop from his shoulders. Clipper's nervousness changed to elation. If ever a criminal fooled himself, Clipper did so at that moment.

Though The Shadow voiced no agreement to Clipper's offer, the crook was confident that it was sealed. The Shadow was taking a step that no other criminal had ever witnessed.

When Clipper's squinty eyes saw the hawkish features of Lamont Cranston, the crook displayed another of his downward grins. There wasn't any question about the prisoner really being The Shadow.

"A ritzy mug, ain't you?" voiced Clipper. "Well, that makes you the real McCoy. One thing we'd all figured, Shadow — we guessed you was a high-hat guy.

"'You don't get out of here until The Face is croaked! Say, though — maybe one of your ritzy friends could put up a good front with The Face."

"There are others, who might serve. I have agents, you know."

A shrewd gleam brought new ugliness to Clipper's eyes. He had heard of The Shadow's agents. It would be smart stuff—using them to get The Face, then disposing of them afterward. Clipper couldn't hide the eagerness that betrayed his new scheme.

"Good stuff," agreed Clipper. "But how am I going to reach those guys and get them to work with me? They only take orders from you, don't they?"

In reply, Clipper saw Cranston pick up the black cloak and hat. He handed the garments to the crook. For the moment, Clipper was puzzled; then he saw Cranston's hand extend the discarded gloves.

"I get it," chuckled Clipper. "You want me to rig up like I was you. Then the guys that work for you will listen to me. How do you handle them—with some password?"

"Usually," replied The Shadow. "Try on the cloak and hat first, Clipper. I must study the appearance that you make."

It seemed like a give-away of The Shadow's game. Any one could stage this Shadow stuff. All he had to do was masquerade in black, spring a shivery laugh, and shoot quick with his guns. If Cranston could pull it, Clipper could.

The Shadow spends a couple of paragraphs calmly walking Clipper through the steps necessary to pull off a convincing Shadow performance, almost like he's directing him. And then this happens:

The back of Clipper's neck was exposed. Though The Shadow's voice was still the leisurely tone of Cranston, his left hand had lost its laziness. Behind Clipper's back, that fist whipped an automatic from a shoulder holster. Clipper didn't scent the move until the muzzle of the .45 iced his neck.

"It won't work, Shadow," rasped Clipper. "You know it as well as I do! One pop from that gat of yours, the mob will pile in and croak you! There's a wicket in that door; they'll use it!"

The Shadow had shifted low behind Clipper's back. The crook could no longer observe the reflection of Cranston's face. He could still feel the pressure of the gun muzzle on his flesh. "Climb off my neck, Shadow," warned Clipper. "It ain't getting you nowhere!"

It was getting The Shadow further than Clipper guessed. The gun muzzle was actually gone from Clipper's neck. His impression that it rested there was merely an after effect, from former pressure.

Crouched low, The Shadow had now reached the door. Before Clipper guessed what was up, The Shadow twisted the door knob. Wrenching the door inward, he pulled himself behind it.

At the same moment, The Shadow snapped a quick command, in a rasp that resembled Clipper's own harsh tone:

"The Shadow's yours, gang! Croak him!"

It ends for Clipper about as well as you'd expect.

One of the things I like most about Mxy is that you can't take shortcuts with him. It's not like how it is with Riddler stories, where you can half-ass the riddles because you know Batman's gonna win once he touches Riddler and the story's gonna end in a punch-up, Mxyzptlk is completely invincible unless you solve the puzzle he presents, and you'd think of course that, surely, he can't fall for it this time.

He's a wise guy, see, he's seen all of Superman's tricks by now, and what's that dumb old Shadow gonna do that he can't see a mile away? This is almost too easy.

It's so easy, in fact, that The Shadow even agrees, he's lost it completely, and the way he could possibly beat Mxyzptlk is by calling one of his agents to save him, and he's prepared a list of some of his smartest, cleverest agents for this moment. But, no, he wouldn't dare put them in such danger against this invincible, immortal genius, someone has to take this list from him and run, but ZOINKS, Mxy's taken the list. So he's gonna start seeing who is it that the Shadda thinks is smart enough to take him.

Clyde BurKe? Like some dimestore journalist's gonna have a shot, just cause he solves crossword puzzles. Lamont Cranston, yeah, more like, LAMEONT CRANSTON. Harry VincenT, who, the dumb kid who tried jumping off a bridge once? Come on, you gotta give me a hand here, Shadda! Let's see, Pietro, what, some cook? Ya kidding? Moe ShrevnitZ...actually, Shrevy's allright, scratch that one. ShrevY, hey, come on, that's cheating, ya just put Shrevnitz's name again, ya dum-dum. Mr Xanadu, hmm, catchy name but probably not a real guy. And Margo Lane. Yeah, smart dame that one, she could probably figger something out. And ya keep writing everyone's name's weird - WAIT

I KNOW WHAT YER TRYING TO DO HERE.

I KNOW YOU GOT SOME CLEVER SCHEME HERE, I'D SEEN THIS BEFORE, IT'S AN OLD TRICK.

YOU EMPHASIZED THE LETTERS SO THE REAL SMARTEST GUY YOU KNOW WOULD BE HIDDEN WITHIN THEM, SO THAT SOMEONE ELSE COULD FIND HIM.

HAH, THAT'S RICH. THAT'S KID'S PLAY. WHAT, YOU THINK I CAN'T FIND THIS

KLTPZYXM

BY MYSELF?

.

.

.

aw crickets...

[fandomtransmandom]

2020 Wrapped:

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5-8 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome work!

Okay, so as you know, ya boi is verbose af, so apologies, but I could only whittle it down to a top 10 (and one honorable mention.) I like to think my work has improved with time, so the older ones may be a bit rough, but here are my favs from 2020 and why (from most recent to oldest.)  

1.) Southern Comfort-Bill Hader, Teddy Redbones (Doc Now)/OFC

Synopsis: Teddy Redbones viciously despises his political opponent Savannah Harrison...by day. At night, the two tear into each other madly, hiding their secret affair from the world and their feelings from one another.

Why I Love: Honestly when @martymcdie88mph sent me a request that just asked for ‘Teddy Redbones laying down pipe’ I never expected the first fic about him to get the response it did, much less for it to lead to two more requests. It’s provided me with immeasurable laughter and I’m so glad there are others out there down to bone this angry southern dom.

2.) Frozen Dreams-Conan O’Brien/OFC

Synopsis: Receiving bad news while on their Christmas vacation at the height of ‘The Tonight Show’ upset, Conan deals with his grief, assisted by his partner, Molly.

Why I Love: Writing some Conan super angst was so cathartic and beautiful. Thank you @stunninconan for making this request and giving me the opportunity to do so. Just want to cherish our ginger smokeshow and let him know how deeply he’s loved.

3.) Flickering Beauty-Bill Hader, Little Vivvy (Doc Now)/Partners of Multiple Genders

Synopsis: Little Vivvy is away from her family, and her wealth, for the first time in 1970’s New York. As she tries to make it as a dancer, Vivvy undergoes the early stages of her transition and stumbles upon the accepting Ball scene, as well as some struggles of being a trans woman trying to live an authentic life.

Why I Love: I wrote this piece for NaNoWriMo 2020 and I knew going into it I would largely be composing it for myself. Beforehand I considered doing something that might draw in more readers, Reddie perhaps, but I'm so glad I went with my heart because this story is incredibly meaningful to me and I will love Vivvy until the end of my days.

4.) Breathe Me-Bill Hader, Barry/OFC

Synopsis: Barry is back in Cleveland after his discharge, working for Fuches, deeply depressed and feeling hopeless. After running into his childhood friend Annie, he discovers she’s doing sex work and offers to help her financially. But Annie refuses, saying there’s only one way she’ll accept payment from Barry.

Why I Love: One of many ideas I’ve worked on this year with @martymcdie88mph, though arguably our best. I received a lot of positive feedback on this piece that made me feel good about myself, and I simply love the dynamic between these two hurting characters.

5.) Lost and Found-Bill Hader, Reddie

Synopsis: When Richie loses the engagement ring he bought for Eddie, he panics, searching everywhere but finding nothing. Coming across the ring while cleaning, Eddie devises a plan to surprise Richie.

Why I Love: This one was based on a prompt from @halefirewarrior and I just think it’s cute and sweet. And it’s resulted in a dozen or so strangers on the internet telling me to ‘shut the fuck up,’ which is always amusing.

6.) Harmonious Monsters-Bill Hader, Vince Blight/OFC

Synopsis: Sociopathic power couple Vince and Stacy Blight live a hedonistic, extravagant existence based on kinky sex and a mutual disregard for humanity. As their ten year anniversary approaches, Vince reflects on the saga of their relationship.

Why I Love: Pretty sure this one appeals just to me, ha. I had a ball writing it. Getting into the heads of these characters was ridiculously fun and smut-wise it includes some of my favorite things.

7.) In The Midnight Hour-Bill Hader RPF, Priest AU

Synopsis: When Father Bill Hader sees a struggling trans man named Troy attending the weekly free meal offered by the church, he discovers Troy is homeless, offering him a place to stay in the basement. As they get to know one another, Troy tempts Bill and tests his faith in ways he never thought possible.

Why I Love: Writing this one for @phantomofthegallifreyanopera was cathartic for me. As a queer trans man who was trapped in a fundamental Christian community for a time, it felt like sweet vengeance to be able to flex my Biblical Studies degree for the sake of gay p*rn (trust me, it’s completely useless otherwise) and it was fun to see Father Bill teased into sin 😈

8.) Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger-Bill Hader, The Alan (SNL)/OFC

Synopsis: When Lily comes home to find The Alan on her doorstep, she can’t imagine why her friend got her such a silly, extravagant gift. That is, until she discovers the Adult Expansion Pack.

Why I Love: I was nervous about publishing this one and almost didn’t. I truly didn’t think y’all would be on board. But thank fuck everyone in this fandom is kinky as shit and this became one of the fics for which I get praised the most. I loved writing it and I’m so here for cranking out more weird shit all day every day.

9.) If The World Was Ending-Bill Hader, Barry/OFC

Synopsis: Barry knows that tomorrow he is likely to die, the Chechens seeking vengeance for the massacre at the monastery. For his last night, he wants nothing more than to spend it with Valerie. The problem: Valerie and Barry broke up months before when she discovered his true profession. Barry begs Valerie to see him, and for one final time, he finds solace in her arms.

Why I Love: When @erdankely gave me their concept for this request, I was unreasonably excited. So damn cool. And I just sobbed while I wrote it. Such a sl*t for Barry super angst any day of the week. Love this one and I’m pretty proud of how it turned out, actually.

10.) Miles Apart Inside-Bill Hader, Robbie Wheadlan (Doc Now)/OFC

Synopsis: While he’s awaiting trial for murder, Robbie Wheadlan and his lover Abbi reflect on the saga of their relationship.

Why I Love: Not only was this a piece that made me fall hardcore in love with a murderer who was on screen for maybe 15 minutes and has no redeemable attributes, but it strengthened my friendship with @stunninconan and for that I am grateful.

Honorable Mention: Later That Night- Conan O’Brien/OFC

Synopsis: Conan meets author Gwendolyn who comes on his show to promote her book.

Why I Love: This is the first fic I published back in July. I’m sure I would cringe like crazy if I tried to read it now at all the edits it needs, but I’m so, so happy I decided to post it and kept writing and sharing. Without this almost 48k monster about my orange pompadoured beloved and all the kind feedback from everyone, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Thank you all!

And I spend my days doing nothing other than hammering out alphabet p*rn of my own, so I apologize that I don't know who to tag to keep this going because I shamefully never take time to read. But feel free to do your own if you have creations you would like to share!i

[avatraang]

20 Stories, 20 First Lines

Thanks for the tag @foxy-knowledgeseeker and @thinkingisadangerouspastime <3

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

20 fics and first lines is absolutely massive, so i’m gonna post them under the cut for the convenience of everyone. if you dare to read, thank you!

1. define divinity.

Suki’s time in Caldera City has been pretty eventful so far. Training new agents, fending off assassination attempts. Trying new foods, adjusting to the new climate, the culture. She’s been here almost a year and still feels like there’s so much she hasn’t learned, so much to become accustomed to. Zuko says she’s doing great, but he’s also… Zuko, so Suki doesn’t really know what to think of that.

2. infinite and always.

Aang comes and goes, and that is the hardest part.

3. lazy sunday.

Sokka is half-asleep when she kisses him. It’s a Sunday morning, the type of Sunday morning that makes you realize why the day is called “lazy.” They’re laying on her bed, in and out of easy slumber. It’s not an abnormal occurrence – they have sleepovers all the time, in the same bed, on the same couch. They cuddle, hold each other, keep each other company, keep the loneliness at bay. It’s familiar, like home. They are each other’s closest confidants, after all. It helps that they are in love with each other and are avoiding it, but still. Of course this isn’t strange.

4. when the sun goes down.

It’s a rainy day when Aang feels her presence. To say they are tied together is an understatement – Aang is connected to all worlds, but to her more than most. The way his scar almost stands on end, a phantom of electricity ghosting across it. He often feels such thunder in his veins when she’s nearby, the universe’s way of reminding him that he is tied to her in more ways than the norm.

5. we’ll keep on growing like ivy.

The first time Mai meets him, she thinks perhaps she’s dreaming. It’s late, around one in the morning, and she’s walking back from the library on campus with one hand on her umbrella and the other on the knife tucked into her sleeve. Ba Sing Se University isn’t particular dangerous, but Mai is a foreigner in these parts, and it’s better safe than sorry. She sees him on the roof of the cafeteria, feet dangling, one hand raised above him as he bends the rain away. She watches the way it bounces off his hand, the other one busy holding an ice cream cone. It's a strange sight -almost like something out of a fever dream. There’s a yellow beanie on his head, which, if he was trying to conceal himself, is a pretty awful attempt at it.

6. she loves him still.

This is how it goes: 

The world is thrown into turmoil the morning he dies. The elements tremble. People as far away as Harbor Town claim to have felt the earth quake, and those at sea as distant as the coast of Akahime swear to the Spirits that a tsunami threatened to devastate their lands. Any flames within a twenty-mile radius reportedly shot up, burning holes into ceilings and ruining breakfasts. Lamps are said to have burst and shattered. Air acolytes claim a breeze swept through the compounds, so strong it cut down a tree that had stood on the island for over a hundred years.

7. the sweetest rewards.

Toph is sitting opposite of Aang, silent as stone. She’s inspecting him; Aang can tell by the way her feet shift almost imperceptibly, scanning his body. Finally, Toph breaks the silence. “When do you think they’ll be done?” She nods towards the kitchens.

8. lunam et familia.

17.

Sokka is sitting at the edge of the temple side when Toph finds him. They are resting at the Western Air Temple, taking a break from diplomacy trips that Aang had roped them into. His feet are swinging over the edge, palms planted flat on the ground, head tilted up towards what she supposes “seeing” folk perceive to be moonlight. Everyone else is fast asleep, deep within the temple walls, except for him. Toph moves to step towards him, to ask Sokka why he’s still awake, but then she hears him speak.

9. seen.

“What is that?” Zuko asks Sokka one day, leaning over his desk to peek at the swell of color Sokka is adding detail to.

10. purple lilacs and pilfered letters.

“NO!”

"Sokka, I swear on Oma and Shu-”

"NOOOOO!”

"Sokka!”

11. as simple as breathing.

con·sti·tu·tion

/ˌkänstəˈt(y)o͞oSH(ə)n/

   noun

noun: constitution; plural noun: constitutions

a body of fundamental principles or established precedents according to which a state or other organization is acknowledged to be governed.

Toph is 23 when Sokka tells her he’s addicted to smoking.

12. jealous of the love.

It’s raining outside when he notices it for the first time. Well, not it. Her. He’s new in Republic City, so she took a day off to show him around. Katara had expressed her mild surprise that Toph, the Chief of Police, had taken a day off to show Sokka, of all people, around… Toph didn’t even take days off when Zuko came into town, and that was rarer than Sokka’s appearances. Plus, it’s not like he’s leaving any time soon. If all goes well, he’ll win his position on the council and move to Republic City, permanently.

13. fortune telling, reincarnation, love, and other (somewhat dubious) forms of science.

Toph doesn’t really bat an eye when she gets a letter from a small Earth village in the middle of bumbafuck. Her secretary reads it to her and she shrugs it off; it gets thrown on her dining room table most unceremoniously. She spends the rest of the week doing what she usually does: focusing on her school and being a little too bored. To be grounded is in her nature, but Toph also has a strange tendency to get restless. Her body starts to twitch and her spirit grows bored. Nothing good has ever come from a bored Toph.

14. why do we put each other through hell? (why can’t we just get over ourselves?)

“How have you never seen a Superman movie?” Penelope’s voice is loud -per the usual- and unbelieving -per not the usual. She’s staring at him like he’s got eight eyes instead of six, like he’s spoken Russian instead of English.

15. firelady.

Suki is born a commoner.

16. between me and you.

"Ms Bei Fong," the voice cuts through the air with practiced precision, a note of affection ringing in it even through the poised professionalism. "I didn't expect to see you here."

17. a ring made of silver.

#01 – Ring.

It starts out simply enough, a breath of a laugh here, a memory of a whisper there; trinkets left behind to find, conversations forgotten, a ring made of light silver that he takes off when they're muttering and forgets to take back: she goes to give it back the next morning, before even the owls have fallen asleep, but he engages her in a debate on how long it took Dumbledore to grow out his beard, instead, and next thing she knows she's in Arithmancy and the ring is on her thumb, forgotten.

18. a girl who will never be a nun (and a man who will make sure of it).

To: Mother (10/9/2016, 01:02) i didn't *mean* to do it

19. to tell you properly.

She's at his doorstep, and they stare at each other for a moment too long, her backpack slung over her shoulder and Fraxure standing next to her. "Well," he finally says, and there's pain in his eyes, written clear across the stars that are reflected inside them. Not for the first time, she feels a pang in her heart. "I guess this is goodbye. For a bit, at least."

20. (just say) you won’t let go.

Hermione finds her way to Fred's flat easily enough, apparating in just as he'd instructed her. She shakes the snow from her jacket and slips her boots off, feet sore and heavy from the day. His flat is dark, darker than usual, but it's only when Hermione takes in the worrisome silence that she pulls her wand out and holds it before her, gathering her wits and taking a step forward. Silently, she scans the apartment with a spell, relaxing only slightly when she registers only one other person in the apartment; out on the balcony. She walks briskly over to it and finds red hair framed by night, drooped shoulders defeated by exhaustion.

i definitely love to open up a story by describing either a setting or an action. very few times do i open up with dialogue... interesting! wonder what that says about me O.O

i think my favorite opening line would have to be the one from “infinite & always.” it’s such a short but impactful line! aang DOES come and go, and that IS the hardest part!

thanks again the tag, e-money and a-dawg B) i’m tagging @cats-and-metersticks, @praetorqueenreyna, and @justoceanmyth :)

[dutchdread]

Why do I care?: The importance of stories

The human ability to tell stories, to learn from them, and to empathize with them, is to me the fundamental thing separating us from animals, it’s the spark of divinity that gives life meaning beyond just existing. When mankind learned to accumulate knowledge and pass it on to the next generation, society jumped forward, now, new generations did not need to relearn everything from scratch, but they could build on the knowledge of those who came before. This is true of knowledge, but of experience as well. While a text book might teach us how to make a sword, a story can teach us when to wield it. Through empathy, we are able to experience stories as if they were real. Now, with games, movies, and books, we can experience a thousand lives in just one lifetime. We are no longer shackled to live life according to our own experiences, but we can live based on the experience and understanding gained from walking a thousand miles in the shoes of heroes, and tyrants, beggars, and kings. Each story, no matter how impossibly fantastical, grants us some glimpse of understanding about the human condition. Because of this, I love all stories, and vehemently oppose any and every restriction on creative freedom. Even the most vile stories, designed as nothing more than a means to coax a response from the viewer fulfills an important task in allowing us to experience the full spectrum of human possibilities. In fact, the more out there the experience, the more you can probably learn from it. When we feel grief, anger, revulsion, and pain, those are the moments that allow us to grow as human beings. Even negative experience allow us to reflect on the importance and meaning of the positive. To me, the road to “enlightenment”, if there is such a thing, can only be reached by walking every single road, and stories allow us to do so from a place of safety. As that paragraph hopefully made obvious, I love stories, and I get invested in them. I really experience them as if they happened to me. I don’t see lord of the rings as letters on a page, It’s more real to me than most of history. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that it didn’t happen, but I emotionally engage with it as though it has. And I do not feel that a story is less important than history, just because it never happened. Arguably history itself never happened, nothing is how we remember it, and once gone, it becomes as fictional as everything else. “Napoleon” now exists in our world no more than “Sauron”, one is bones, the other, ink. What remains is their impact on the world, and a story can be every bit as impactful as history.

The reason I bring this up is because when you are passionate about a movie, game, anime, or book, people tend to argue that “it’s not real”, and then insult you for caring. As if being involved with a story is a bad thing, immature, delusional even. “It’s all in your head”. However, there is nothing that’s not “just in your head”. The entire experience of human emotion happens inside your head. Some of my best experiences in life have been with books, why should the connection I build up with those characters be any less impactful to me than those made with other people? If my favorite character dies, and I can never experience more moments with them, how is that experience of loss less real than when going through a breakup? If these experiences make my life fuller, does that not prove that they are meaningful? Why would anyone argue that I shouldn’t fill my life with things that give it meaning? Of course, when a character suffers in a book it’s not as important as when someone suffers in real life. But the emotions experienced through empathy, are every bit as valuable. The risk of being heart broken, of experiencing pain, is the corollary to that passion. If you want to be able to love a story, you will have to put in the investment that could also lead to you hating the story if it goes bad. How much I hate a thing is equal to how much I love the opposite. For instance, how much I hate not being with a girl is directly proportionate to how much I love being with said girl. To me, underplaying the importance of stories limits your potential as a human being, both intellectually, and emotionally, since it limits the different viewpoints you have access to when considering situations. Because of this, I also love love stories, because who doesn’t enjoy experiencing romance? But the corollary to that is that I hate heartbreak. When I get invested in a character, and they fall in love, and fail, I feel that as if it happened to me, and I don’t like it, which is why I am passionate about stories, and why I get so much joy when it works out.

[unsettlingshortstories]

The Last Question

Isaac Asimov (1956)

The last question was asked for the first time, half in jest, on May 21, 2061, at a time when humanity first stepped into the light. The question came about as a result of a five dollar bet over highballs, and it happened this way: Alexander Adell and Bertram Lupov were two of the faithful attendants of Multivac. As well as any human beings could, they knew what lay behind the cold, clicking, flashing face -- miles and miles of face -- of that giant computer. They had at least a vague notion of the general plan of relays and circuits that had long since grown past the point where any single human could possibly have a firm grasp of the whole.

Multivac was self-adjusting and self-correcting. It had to be, for nothing human could adjust and correct it quickly enough or even adequately enough -- so Adell and Lupov attended the monstrous giant only lightly and superficially, yet as well as any men could. They fed it data, adjusted questions to its needs and translated the answers that were issued. Certainly they, and all others like them, were fully entitled to share In the glory that was Multivac's.

For decades, Multivac had helped design the ships and plot the trajectories that enabled man to reach the Moon, Mars, and Venus, but past that, Earth's poor resources could not support the ships. Too much energy was needed for the long trips. Earth exploited its coal and uranium with increasing efficiency, but there was only so much of both.

But slowly Multivac learned enough to answer deeper questions more fundamentally, and on May 14, 2061, what had been theory, became fact.

The energy of the sun was stored, converted, and utilized directly on a planet-wide scale. All Earth turned off its burning coal, its fissioning uranium, and flipped the switch that connected all of it to a small station, one mile in diameter, circling the Earth at half the distance of the Moon. All Earth ran by invisible beams of sunpower.

Seven days had not sufficed to dim the glory of it and Adell and Lupov finally managed to escape from the public function, and to meet in quiet where no one would think of looking for them, in the deserted underground chambers, where portions of the mighty buried body of Multivac showed. Unattended, idling, sorting data with contented lazy clickings, Multivac, too, had earned its vacation and the boys appreciated that. They had no intention, originally, of disturbing it.

They had brought a bottle with them, and their only concern at the moment was to relax in the company of each other and the bottle.

"It's amazing when you think of it," said Adell. His broad face had lines of weariness in it, and he stirred his drink slowly with a glass rod, watching the cubes of ice slur clumsily about. "All the energy we can possibly ever use for free. Enough energy, if we wanted to draw on it, to melt all Earth into a big drop of impure liquid iron, and still never miss the energy so used. All the energy we could ever use, forever and forever and forever."

Lupov cocked his head sideways. He had a trick of doing that when he wanted to be contrary, and he wanted to be contrary now, partly because he had had to carry the ice and glassware. "Not forever," he said.

"Oh, hell, just about forever. Till the sun runs down, Bert."

"That's not forever."

"All right, then. Billions and billions of years. Twenty billion, maybe. Are you satisfied?"

Lupov put his fingers through his thinning hair as though to reassure himself that some was still left and sipped gently at his own drink. "Twenty billion years isn't forever."

"Will, it will last our time, won't it?"

"So would the coal and uranium."

"All right, but now we can hook up each individual spaceship to the Solar Station, and it can go to Pluto and back a million times without ever worrying about fuel. You can't do THAT on coal and uranium. Ask Multivac, if you don't believe me."

"I don't have to ask Multivac. I know that."

"Then stop running down what Multivac's done for us," said Adell, blazing up. "It did all right."

"Who says it didn't? What I say is that a sun won't last forever. That's all I'm saying. We're safe for twenty billion years, but then what?" Lupov pointed a slightly shaky finger at the other. "And don't say we'll switch to another sun."

There was silence for a while. Adell put his glass to his lips only occasionally, and Lupov's eyes slowly closed. They rested.

Then Lupov's eyes snapped open. "You're thinking we'll switch to another sun when ours is done, aren't you?"

"I'm not thinking."

"Sure you are. You're weak on logic, that's the trouble with you. You're like the guy in the story who was caught in a sudden shower and Who ran to a grove of trees and got under one. He wasn't worried, you see, because he figured when one tree got wet through, he would just get under another one."

"I get it," said Adell. "Don't shout. When the sun is done, the other stars will be gone, too."

"Darn right they will," muttered Lupov. "It all had a beginning in the original cosmic explosion, whatever that was, and it'll all have an end when all the stars run down. Some run down faster than others. Hell, the giants won't last a hundred million years. The sun will last twenty billion years and maybe the dwarfs will last a hundred billion for all the good they are. But just give us a trillion years and everything will be dark. Entropy has to increase to maximum, that's all."

"I know all about entropy," said Adell, standing on his dignity.

"The hell you do."

"I know as much as you do."

"Then you know everything's got to run down someday."

"All right. Who says they won't?"

"You did, you poor sap. You said we had all the energy we needed, forever. You said 'forever.'"

"It was Adell's turn to be contrary. "Maybe we can build things up again someday," he said.

"Never."

"Why not? Someday."

"Never."

"Ask Multivac."

"You ask Multivac. I dare you. Five dollars says it can't be done."

Adell was just drunk enough to try, just sober enough to be able to phrase the necessary symbols and operations into a question which, in words, might have corresponded to this: Will mankind one day without the net expenditure of energy be able to restore the sun to its full youthfulness even after it had died of old age?

Or maybe it could be put more simply like this: How can the net amount of entropy of the universe be massively decreased?

Multivac fell dead and silent. The slow flashing of lights ceased, the distant sounds of clicking relays ended.

Then, just as the frightened technicians felt they could hold their breath no longer, there was a sudden springing to life of the teletype attached to that portion of Multivac. Five words were printed: INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR MEANINGFUL ANSWER.

"No bet," whispered Lupov. They left hurriedly.

By next morning, the two, plagued with throbbing head and cottony mouth, had forgotten about the incident.

Jerrodd, Jerrodine, and Jerrodette I and II watched the starry picture in the visiplate change as the passage through hyperspace was completed in its non-time lapse. At once, the even powdering of stars gave way to the predominance of a single bright marble-disk, centered. "That's X-23," said Jerrodd confidently. His thin hands clamped tightly behind his back and the knuckles whitened.

The little Jerrodettes, both girls, had experienced the hyperspace passage for the first time in their lives and were self-conscious over the momentary sensation of inside-outness. They buried their giggles and chased one another wildly about their mother, screaming, "We've reached X-23 -- we've reached X-23 -- we've ----"

"Quiet, children," said Jerrodine sharply. "Are you sure, Jerrodd?"

"What is there to be but sure?" asked Jerrodd, glancing up at the bulge of featureless metal just under the ceiling. It ran the length of the room, disappearing through the wall at either end. It was as long as the ship.

Jerrodd scarcely knew a thing about the thick rod of metal except that it was called a Microvac, that one asked it questions if one wished; that if one did not it still had its task of guiding the ship to a preordered destination; of feeding on energies from the various Sub-galactic Power Stations; of computing the equations for the hyperspacial jumps.

Jerrodd and his family had only to wait and live in the comfortable residence quarters of the ship.

Someone had once told Jerrodd that the "ac" at the end of "Microvac" stood for "analog computer" in ancient English, but he was on the edge of forgetting even that.

Jerrodine's eyes were moist as she watched the visiplate. "I can't help it. I feel funny about leaving Earth."

"Why for Pete's sake?" demanded Jerrodd. "We had nothing there. We'll have everything on X-23. You won't be alone. You won't be a pioneer. There are over a million people on the planet already. Good Lord, our great grandchildren will be looking for new worlds because X-23 will be overcrowded."

Then, after a reflective pause, "I tell you, it's a lucky thing the computers worked out interstellar travel the way the race is growing."

"I know, I know," said Jerrodine miserably.

Jerrodette I said promptly, "Our Microvac is the best Microvac in the world."

"I think so, too," said Jerrodd, tousling her hair.

It was a nice feeling to have a Microvac of your own and Jerrodd was glad he was part of his generation and no other. In his father's youth, the only computers had been tremendous machines taking up a hundred square miles of land. There was only one to a planet. Planetary ACs they were called. They had been growing in size steadily for a thousand years and then, all at once, came refinement. In place of transistors had come molecular valves so that even the largest Planetary AC could be put into a space only half the volume of a spaceship.

Jerrodd felt uplifted, as he always did when he thought that his own personal Microvac was many times more complicated than the ancient and primitive Multivac that had first tamed the Sun, and almost as complicated as Earth's Planetary AC (the largest) that had first solved the problem of hyperspatial travel and had made trips to the stars possible.

"So many stars, so many planets," sighed Jerrodine, busy with her own thoughts. "I suppose families will be going out to new planets forever, the way we are now."

"Not forever," said Jerrodd, with a smile. "It will all stop someday, but not for billions of years. Many billions. Even the stars run down, you know. Entropy must increase."

"What's entropy, daddy?" shrilled Jerrodette II.

"Entropy, little sweet, is just a word which means the amount of running-down of the universe. Everything runs down, you know, like your little walkie-talkie robot, remember?"

"Can't you just put in a new power-unit, like with my robot?"

The stars are the power-units, dear. Once they're gone, there are no more power-units."

Jerrodette I at once set up a howl. "Don't let them, daddy. Don't let the stars run down."

"Now look what you've done, " whispered Jerrodine, exasperated.

"How was I to know it would frighten them?" Jerrodd whispered back.

"Ask the Microvac," wailed Jerrodette I. "Ask him how to turn the stars on again."

"Go ahead," said Jerrodine. "It will quiet them down." (Jerrodette II was beginning to cry, also.)

Jarrodd shrugged. "Now, now, honeys. I'll ask Microvac. Don't worry, he'll tell us."

He asked the Microvac, adding quickly, "Print the answer."

Jerrodd cupped the strip of thin cellufilm and said cheerfully, "See now, the Microvac says it will take care of everything when the time comes so don't worry."

Jerrodine said, "and now children, it's time for bed. We'll be in our new home soon."

Jerrodd read the words on the cellufilm again before destroying it: INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR A MEANINGFUL ANSWER.

He shrugged and looked at the visiplate. X-23 was just ahead.

VJ-23X of Lameth stared into the black depths of the three-dimensional, small-scale map of the Galaxy and said, "Are we ridiculous, I wonder, in being so concerned about the matter?" MQ-17J of Nicron shook his head. "I think not. You know the Galaxy will be filled in five years at the present rate of expansion."

Both seemed in their early twenties, both were tall and perfectly formed.

"Still," said VJ-23X, "I hesitate to submit a pessimistic report to the Galactic Council."

"I wouldn't consider any other kind of report. Stir them up a bit. We've got to stir them up."

VJ-23X sighed. "Space is infinite. A hundred billion Galaxies are there for the taking. More."

"A hundred billion is not infinite and it's getting less infinite all the time. Consider! Twenty thousand years ago, mankind first solved the problem of utilizing stellar energy, and a few centuries later, interstellar travel became possible. It took mankind a million years to fill one small world and then only fifteen thousand years to fill the rest of the Galaxy. Now the population doubles every ten years --"

VJ-23X interrupted. "We can thank immortality for that."

"Very well. Immortality exists and we have to take it into account. I admit it has its seamy side, this immortality. The Galactic AC has solved many problems for us, but in solving the problems of preventing old age and death, it has undone all its other solutions."

"Yet you wouldn't want to abandon life, I suppose."

"Not at all," snapped MQ-17J, softening it at once to, "Not yet. I'm by no means old enough. How old are you?"

"Two hundred twenty-three. And you?"

"I'm still under two hundred. --But to get back to my point. Population doubles every ten years. Once this Galaxy is filled, we'll have another filled in ten years. Another ten years and we'll have filled two more. Another decade, four more. In a hundred years, we'll have filled a thousand Galaxies. In a thousand years, a million Galaxies. In ten thousand years, the entire known Universe. Then what?"

VJ-23X said, "As a side issue, there's a problem of transportation. I wonder how many sunpower units it will take to move Galaxies of individuals from one Galaxy to the next."

"A very good point. Already, mankind consumes two sunpower units per year."

"Most of it's wasted. After all, our own Galaxy alone pours out a thousand sunpower units a year and we only use two of those."

"Granted, but even with a hundred per cent efficiency, we can only stave off the end. Our energy requirements are going up in geometric progression even faster than our population. We'll run out of energy even sooner than we run out of Galaxies. A good point. A very good point."

"We'll just have to build new stars out of interstellar gas."

"Or out of dissipated heat?" asked MQ-17J, sarcastically.

"There may be some way to reverse entropy. We ought to ask the Galactic AC."

VJ-23X was not really serious, but MQ-17J pulled out his AC-contact from his pocket and placed it on the table before him.

"I've half a mind to," he said. "It's something the human race will have to face someday."

He stared somberly at his small AC-contact. It was only two inches cubed and nothing in itself, but it was connected through hyperspace with the great Galactic AC that served all mankind. Hyperspace considered, it was an integral part of the Galactic AC.

MQ-17J paused to wonder if someday in his immortal life he would get to see the Galactic AC. It was on a little world of its own, a spider webbing of force-beams holding the matter within which surges of sub-mesons took the place of the old clumsy molecular valves. Yet despite it's sub-etheric workings, the Galactic AC was known to be a full thousand feet across.

MQ-17J asked suddenly of his AC-contact, "Can entropy ever be reversed?"

VJ-23X looked startled and said at once, "Oh, say, I didn't really mean to have you ask that."

"Why not?"

"We both know entropy can't be reversed. You can't turn smoke and ash back into a tree."

"Do you have trees on your world?" asked MQ-17J.

The sound of the Galactic AC startled them into silence. Its voice came thin and beautiful out of the small AC-contact on the desk. It said: THERE IS INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR A MEANINGFUL ANSWER.

VJ-23X said, "See!"

The two men thereupon returned to the question of the report they were to make to the Galactic Council.

Zee Prime's mind spanned the new Galaxy with a faint interest in the countless twists of stars that powdered it. He had never seen this one before. Would he ever see them all? So many of them, each with its load of humanity - but a load that was almost a dead weight. More and more, the real essence of men was to be found out here, in space. Minds, not bodies! The immortal bodies remained back on the planets, in suspension over the eons. Sometimes they roused for material activity but that was growing rarer. Few new individuals were coming into existence to join the incredibly mighty throng, but what matter? There was little room in the Universe for new individuals.

Zee Prime was roused out of his reverie upon coming across the wispy tendrils of another mind.

"I am Zee Prime," said Zee Prime. "And you?"

"I am Dee Sub Wun. Your Galaxy?"

"We call it only the Galaxy. And you?"

"We call ours the same. All men call their Galaxy their Galaxy and nothing more. Why not?"

"True. Since all Galaxies are the same."

"Not all Galaxies. On one particular Galaxy the race of man must have originated. That makes it different."

Zee Prime said, "On which one?"

"I cannot say. The Universal AC would know."

"Shall we ask him? I am suddenly curious."

Zee Prime's perceptions broadened until the Galaxies themselves shrunk and became a new, more diffuse powdering on a much larger background. So many hundreds of billions of them, all with their immortal beings, all carrying their load of intelligences with minds that drifted freely through space. And yet one of them was unique among them all in being the originals Galaxy. One of them had, in its vague and distant past, a period when it was the only Galaxy populated by man.

Zee Prime was consumed with curiosity to see this Galaxy and called, out: "Universal AC! On which Galaxy did mankind originate?"

The Universal AC heard, for on every world and throughout space, it had its receptors ready, and each receptor lead through hyperspace to some unknown point where the Universal AC kept itself aloof.

Zee Prime knew of only one man whose thoughts had penetrated within sensing distance of Universal AC, and he reported only a shining globe, two feet across, difficult to see.

"But how can that be all of Universal AC?" Zee Prime had asked.

"Most of it, " had been the answer, "is in hyperspace. In what form it is there I cannot imagine."

Nor could anyone, for the day had long since passed, Zee Prime knew, when any man had any part of the making of a universal AC. Each Universal AC designed and constructed its successor. Each, during its existence of a million years or more accumulated the necessary data to build a better and more intricate, more capable successor in which its own store of data and individuality would be submerged.

The Universal AC interrupted Zee Prime's wandering thoughts, not with words, but with guidance. Zee Prime's mentality was guided into the dim sea of Galaxies and one in particular enlarged into stars.

A thought came, infinitely distant, but infinitely clear. "THIS IS THE ORIGINAL GALAXY OF MAN."

But it was the same after all, the same as any other, and Zee Prime stifled his disappointment.

Dee Sub Wun, whose mind had accompanied the other, said suddenly, "And Is one of these stars the original star of Man?"

The Universal AC said, "MAN'S ORIGINAL STAR HAS GONE NOVA. IT IS NOW A WHITE DWARF."

"Did the men upon it die?" asked Zee Prime, startled and without thinking.

The Universal AC said, "A NEW WORLD, AS IN SUCH CASES, WAS CONSTRUCTED FOR THEIR PHYSICAL BODIES IN TIME."

"Yes, of course," said Zee Prime, but a sense of loss overwhelmed him even so. His mind released its hold on the original Galaxy of Man, let it spring back and lose itself among the blurred pin points. He never wanted to see it again.

Dee Sub Wun said, "What is wrong?"

"The stars are dying. The original star is dead."

"They must all die. Why not?"

"But when all energy is gone, our bodies will finally die, and you and I with them."

"It will take billions of years."

"I do not wish it to happen even after billions of years. Universal AC! How may stars be kept from dying?"

Dee sub Wun said in amusement, "You're asking how entropy might be reversed in direction."

And the Universal AC answered. "THERE IS AS YET INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR A MEANINGFUL ANSWER."

Zee Prime's thoughts fled back to his own Galaxy. He gave no further thought to Dee Sub Wun, whose body might be waiting on a galaxy a trillion light-years away, or on the star next to Zee Prime's own. It didn't matter.

Unhappily, Zee Prime began collecting interstellar hydrogen out of which to build a small star of his own. If the stars must someday die, at least some could yet be built.

Man considered with himself, for in a way, Man, mentally, was one. He consisted of a trillion, trillion, trillion ageless bodies, each in its place, each resting quiet and incorruptible, each cared for by perfect automatons, equally incorruptible, while the minds of all the bodies freely melted one into the other, indistinguishable. Man said, "The Universe is dying."

Man looked about at the dimming Galaxies. The giant stars, spendthrifts, were gone long ago, back in the dimmest of the dim far past. Almost all stars were white dwarfs, fading to the end.

New stars had been built of the dust between the stars, some by natural processes, some by Man himself, and those were going, too. White dwarfs might yet be crashed together and of the mighty forces so released, new stars built, but only one star for every thousand white dwarfs destroyed, and those would come to an end, too.

Man said, "Carefully husbanded, as directed by the Cosmic AC, the energy that is even yet left in all the Universe will last for billions of years."

"But even so," said Man, "eventually it will all come to an end. However it may be husbanded, however stretched out, the energy once expended is gone and cannot be restored. Entropy must increase to the maximum."

Man said, "Can entropy not be reversed? Let us ask the Cosmic AC."

The Cosmic AC surrounded them but not in space. Not a fragment of it was in space. It was in hyperspace and made of something that was neither matter nor energy. The question of its size and Nature no longer had meaning to any terms that Man could comprehend.

"Cosmic AC," said Man, "How may entropy be reversed?"

The Cosmic AC said, "THERE IS AS YET INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR A MEANINGFUL ANSWER."

Man said, "Collect additional data."

The Cosmic AC said, "I WILL DO SO. I HAVE BEEN DOING SO FOR A HUNDRED BILLION YEARS. MY PREDECESSORS AND I HAVE BEEN ASKED THIS QUESTION MANY TIMES. ALL THE DATA I HAVE REMAINS INSUFFICIENT."

"Will there come a time," said Man, "when data will be sufficient or is the problem insoluble in all conceivable circumstances?"

The Cosmic AC said, "NO PROBLEM IS INSOLUBLE IN ALL CONCEIVABLE CIRCUMSTANCES."

Man said, "When will you have enough data to answer the question?"

"THERE IS AS YET INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR A MEANINGFUL ANSWER."

"Will you keep working on it?" asked Man.

The Cosmic AC said, "I WILL."

Man said, "We shall wait."

"The stars and Galaxies died and snuffed out, and space grew black after ten trillion years of running down. One by one Man fused with AC, each physical body losing its mental identity in a manner that was somehow not a loss but a gain.

Man's last mind paused before fusion, looking over a space that included nothing but the dregs of one last dark star and nothing besides but incredibly thin matter, agitated randomly by the tag ends of heat wearing out, asymptotically, to the absolute zero.

Man said, "AC, is this the end? Can this chaos not be reversed into the Universe once more? Can that not be done?"

AC said, "THERE IS AS YET INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR A MEANINGFUL ANSWER."

Man's last mind fused and only AC existed -- and that in hyperspace.

Matter and energy had ended and with it, space and time. Even AC existed only for the sake of the one last question that it had never answered from the time a half-drunken computer ten trillion years before had asked the question of a computer that was to AC far less than was a man to Man. All other questions had been answered, and until this last question was answered also, AC might not release his consciousness.

All collected data had come to a final end. Nothing was left to be collected.

But all collected data had yet to be completely correlated and put together in all possible relationships.

A timeless interval was spent in doing that.

And it came to pass that AC learned how to reverse the direction of entropy.

But there was now no man to whom AC might give the answer of the last question. No matter. The answer -- by demonstration -- would take care of that, too.

For another timeless interval, AC thought how best to do this. Carefully, AC organized the program.

The consciousness of AC encompassed all of what had once been a Universe and brooded over what was now Chaos. Step by step, it must be done.

And AC said, "LET THERE BE LIGHT!"

And there was light----

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

Gwen Stacy #1-2 Thoughts

A mixed bag.

There are four fundamental problems with this book:

It further kisses the ass of a character unworthy of such adoration and who already has another title. A character who’s adoration often has come at the expense of the other characters

It characterizes Gwen as flawless. Maybe not Spider-Man: Blue levels of romanticized perfection but still flawless nevertheless

The timing of the story is rather confusing everything points to it occurring between ASM #23-30 except we learn Uncle Ben died the same day as Gwen Stacy #1…how???????????????????????????

This book is pointless. Gwen is dead. Her enduring relevance is through the mere fact that Spidey and Miles Warren loved her and are sad about her death. What she was like in High School has 0 relevance to the current status quo, the status quos before her death and even the status quos when she was alive

Basically this book is a well plotted YA crime story that wrapped around a lot of continuity porn.

It let’s you see Jean DeWolff in action. It lets you see a pre-Wraith Yuri Watanabe in action. It shows you Gwen’s high school sweetheart. It sets up those Stan Lee stories where Gwen is somewhat involved in politics. It explains how and when Gwen met Norman and Harry. How Captain Stacy got injured and how he retired. It shows you more of the Goblin’s Ditko era gangland schemes. It shows you Gwen cooked for her Dad.

And sure, the fanboy in me, the continuity lover in me LIKES seeing that stuff. But thinking critically for a moment…this is all pretty pointless isn’t it.

What do we gain from learning how exactly Spider-Man’s dead girlfriend’s dead Dad injured his leg? Nothing. We don’t even gain that much from finding out he was friends with Spider-Man’s other dead friend Jean DeWolff.

I mean Harry is a live right now but never talks about Gwen. Before Child Within I don’t think he ever talked about his dead friend Gwen Stacy and that’s honestly the most relevant thing in this title thus far.*

That being said if you LIKE any of the stuff mentioned and want something just self-indulgent then go for it.

I loved seeing Norman. Although I laughed at how utterly unsubtle the book was about him. Todd Nauck introduces him with a big Green Goblin image behind him just in case you didn’t see Spider-Man 2002 and didn’t know Norman Osborn was the Green Goblin. Gage drops lines referencing Norman’s eventual murder of her with the subtly of a hammer. Although I am intrigued by the fact that he is actively derailing her investigation and the fact that Gwen is on the trail of a mystery we already know the answers to. The tension doesn’t lie in the threat to the characters because we know who’s going to live (and I don’t care about Darius who’s unlikely to make it out alive). Rather the tension lies in how  this is going to get to the resolution we know is inevitable.

I also like how the story lightly draws parallels to George’s job and Peter’s. Being Spider-Man did kill Gwen in the end, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t lived her life at risk anyway. It legitimizes Peter’s relationship with her and other women because it conveys that non-super powered crime fighters also expose their loved ones to danger. Indeed, in this story George Stacy has been targeted by an outright super villain.

Perhaps above all else I adored how the crime story gels. It all adds up, it’s all clearly conveyed to us and it progresses logically. Perhaps it’s not novel, but in this day and age I’d prefer competency over novelty any day.

I also liked how the book did lightly flesh out how Peter and Gwen might’ve emotionally connected with one another. They both had to be caregivers to elderly/infirm parental figures when their other parental figure died. Peter had to step up and become the man of the house after Ben died. Gwen kind of had to fill her mother’s shoes after her death, as shown by her making and delivering food to her father. I will say this, for good or ill, Gage nailed her relationship with her Dad as it was an entirely organic extrapolation from their Silver Age interactions.

But that’s yet another problem with the book. As I expected, it’s revisionist history. This is not a natural extrapolation of Ditko’s Gwen Stacy, it’s a natural extrapolation of the post-mortem idea  of Gwen Stacy. The page from Nick Lowe in issue #1 pretty much confirms that when it waxes lyrical about Gwen’s decency and so on. Shit, the recap pages refer to Gwen as the ‘one and only’ when she literally has an AU counterpart with a solo book and infamously has been cloned like half a dozen times.  There was clearly more love and attention lavished upon this book than the other female led Spider titles. ‘We are all big Gwen Stacy fans’ said Lowe. That has be concerned if I’m honest.

Gwen’s look in the book reflects this. She sports her classic black headband, long hair look more than once. Of course it’s possible for someone to sport different hair styles throughout their lives and go back to them. But in this case Gwen only began to look that way because she was actively emulating MJ’s look. The fact that she does look like that is proof this book isn’t rooted in how Gwen was but how she was remembered as being. Although I appreciate Nauck did play with her looks beyond that, she isn’t dressed as she was the night she died or anything.

But the back-up stories...holy shit.

Let’s put aside how MJ didn’t get back-ups in her solo-book. They just brown nose Gwen so goddam hard. An Avengers team comprised of Gwen’s. Gwen killing Goblins on the Brooklyn Bridge. A paper doll of Gwen? Jesus Christ.

Overall…I dunno if I can recommend this book to anyone not in the Cult of Gwen. Because it was made specifically for them. But if you aren’t this is skippable, unless you are a continuity junkie like me.

*I suppose Yuri Watanabe could come back into the titles but she was so under utilized from her inception-now I don’t think this will gain us anything either

[spiriituma]

@beyondthetemples​ asked: {{ You want someone to talk to you about your girls, I'm always down for throwing some Thoughts your way! So that story mentions Lee being a teenager with magic too powerful for her own good. After that night, does she learn any lessons? Does she become more capable of harnessing it? Does her relationship with that power change over time? Since Lava is connected to her through that magic, do Lava's abilities or senses or consciousness grow with it? Their relationship?

||..*cracks knuckles* LET’S GO--

DOES LEE LEARN ANY LESSONS AFTER CREATING LAVA?

YES-- !! When her and Lava wake up the next morning, there’s a fundamental change in her. It’s not like she immediately has the best habits surrounding her magic, but suddenly the THOUGHT is there, that she has to be more RESPONSIBLE with the spells she casts. Lee up to this point has never really had to think about the consequences that come from her actions; now, thanks to Lava and her constant heart attacks, SHE CAN’T ESCAPE IT.

On her and Lava’s walk out of the cemetery, both of them surrounded by DEATH for THREE WHOLE MILES, she does a lot of REFLECTING. Her and Lava are still regaining their strength and learning to trust each other, and Lee absolutely REFUSES to get on the horse out of fear that the mare will once again try to kill her. Seeing all the damage she’s caused to keep herself alive (and give Lava life,) Lee fully believes that she is IN DEBT to some kind of higher power, i.e.-- her MAGIC. 

Though it may not necessarily be the BEST of lessons, but Lee also picks up a habit of being overly reckless with her own life TO SAVE OTHERS. Friends or strangers, Lee will throw herself in harm’s way without hesitation to save someone.

DOES SHE BECOME MORE CAPABLE OF HARNESSING (HER MAGIC)? DOES HER RELATIONSHIP TO HER POWER CHANGE OVER TIME?

When her and Lava begin to travel, YES, she takes every opportunity to practice. Though Lee isn’t the best at reading to begin with, she had been able to study things she had interest in without any problems-- school was awful for her, but learning magic? Reading spellbooks? Researching casting methods? LOVED IT. Now, though, the effect of losing/numbing some of her nerves/dying in general has given her DYSLEXIA. She tries her hardest to push past it, but finds it difficult now to read/write. 

This doesn’t stop her from PRACTICING methods that she already does know, combining spells and tricks and try and teach herself new things without having to read. Practice makes perfect! Eventually, she gets herself under control to the point where her magic doesn’t just suddenly UNLEASH itself when she gets angry. (This is AFTER her encounter with Trevor’s father, however.) 

Her relationship to her power most definitely changes, but it’s both a good and bad change imo. Lee’s grandmother is the one who taught her the basics and gave her a grasp on what exactly she could be capable of and the dangers behind it. Once her grandmother dies, she starts to have less reverence for her magic; it’s not so much a gift that she has been blessed with as opposed to a TOOL. Then, when she’s on her own, not only is it a tool, but it becomes a WEAPON. 

She’s still not CASUAL with her magic by the time she creates Lava; it takes until she’s about 16/17 and actively a vigilante that the casual, flippant usage of her powers begins to take place. Of course, after creating Lava, the REVERENCE, but it’s less out of FEAR and more out of RESPECT.

SINCE LAVA IS CONNECTED TO HER THROUGH HER MAGIC, DO LAVA’S SENSES OR CONSCIOUSNESS GROW WITH IT?

YES!! Lava at first has VERY BASIC speech capabilities, mainly able to communicate through body language. Because she DOES have some parts of her that are partially human (notably her brain,) Lava knows a few words, though she doesn’t talk to Lee immediately. Essentially, she picks up on some things that she hears Lee say and parrots them back mentally. 

LEE TEACHES HER TO SPEAK, and they also develop their own form of sign language. In most cases, when I write for Lava, she is only a handful of years into existing, so she talks and thinks in slightly broken English. Over time, she can form full sentences and has a much better use of language. Though she doesn’t PHYSICALLY age, she certainly does mentally and emotionally. 

Lava also steadily becomes more ALIVE with age, as does Lee (verse depending.) Eventually, she starts to grow a full coat of fur and her veins become less pronounced. 

LEE AND LAVA’S RELATIONSHIP

This could be its own multi-para headcanon post on it’s own, but I’ll try to be brief lol. 

So, at first, Lee is obviously VERY AFRAID of Lava. Lee passes out after the spell that gives Lava life, and she stays asleep for THREE DAYS; Lava wakes up first and stands over her THE ENTIRE TIME. At first, their relationship is all about survival-- Lava has no idea how to exist, and Lee needs a getaway vehicle. Of course, Lee could have just LEFT HER somewhere, but as mentioned earlier... SHE FEELS TERRIBLE about what she’s done, and being kind to Lava is a part of repaying that debt. 

Neither of them trust each other at first, but there is a mutual need to survive that causes them to have to tolerate the other. By the time Lee meets Trevor, they have formed a FRIENDSHIP, Lava being extremely protective of Lee. The two can now talk to each other, having developed their form of sign language and Lava having a basic grasp on language that allows them to communicate.

Lee doesn’t try to ride Lava for the first two weeks. Lava, at one point, just PICKS HER UP and tosses her on board in an attempt to get away from a store Lee had just robbed. It’s a panic-induced ride from hell, but Lee realizes just how fast Lava can go and starts to teach herself how to fight off of horseback. As a kid, Lee took riding lessons, so she was comfortable on horseback, but her major concern was trusting Lava.