“You can still UGGGGH walk away,” Danny Rand gasped as Lance Bass’s fist crashed into his face. The billionaire staggered backwards. Gathering enough focus to channel his chi was proving impossible. His fingers curled. “I am the Immortal Iron First, sworn protector of K’un-Lun! I honor the sacrifice of–ARRRGHHH!” His voice dropped; Joey Fatone had shoved him into a wall. Even his yelp sounded pompous.
“Well, I played Mark in Rent, and garnered fairly positive reviews!”, Fatone hooted. “All you do is punch people!”
“But it’s really hard!”, Rand whined, unaware that Justin Timberlake was seconds from bodyslamming him.
“You must know that I’m grateful for your service, dear, but please do try and be more careful. You’re tracking mud all over my floors, and my housemaid just cleaned them this morning,” the Dowager Countess said with refined reproach.
The Punisher grunted and tried to shift his boots without jostling the table. “Uh. Ma’am, what game are you playing? This is bullshit, you hear? There’s bastards out there that–”
“Yes, yes, we’ll get to the information I promised you,” the Dowager glared. “But right now, you’ll raise that pinky properly.”
“This hunt had best be worthy of my attention, Girl of Squirrels,” Kraven the Hunter said, his voice like scraped gravel. “If Stark created a dinosaur, why did the great and terrible Kraven not hear of it?”
Squirrel Girl grinned as she crouched and then hurled herself several stories. She waited for Kraven to catch up. “Um, because Stark is no fun whatsoever and would spend a mountain of cash to keep something like that to himself?”
Kraven grunted, daydreaming about scaling his prize like the wall of a building. Squirrel Girl guffawed. Tony was going to be so annoyed.
I took the plunge this morning, gentle Reader. I did that which I’ve thought about nearly every day this year, but have been actively avoiding for months.
I cleaned my room.
Now, I understand that revelation may seem unremarkable in the grand scheme of the Universe, but consider: where once I tripped over papery debris, the path is now clear. While I previously was forced to stack books on the floor, now they have a place of rest. My shelves have room. It is a new day, and that day smells like store-brand disinfectant wipes.
Part of the process meant unboxing and arranging the Funko Pops I’ve collected this year, a decision that essentially created two super-teams.
On an initial glance, you might conclude that this team has some disadvantages: the Batmobile is a car, Purple Tentacle is obsessed with world domination, and Bob Ross paints bushes and sticks. However, you would be wrong.
With a persuasive-enough argument, Purple Tentacle’s preoccupation with conquering the Earth can be channeled into productive team-building tasks. Need a computer system cracked, a rent in time repaired, or a villain distracted? Simply convince Purple that helping you will further his own means! As for the Batmobile, even the 1966 version comes equipped with “wonderful toys,” as Jack Nicholson’s Joker put it. It’s both a transportation system and a weapons arsenal, and with a touching of reprogramming, it probably wouldn’t even require a sentient driver**
**which is fortunate, because Batfleck isn’t joining this outfit.
Further down, there’s Bob Ross, whose voice is so soothing that he can lure evil to sleep. Prior to his career as an artist, though, Ross was a drill sergeant in the US Air Force who spent most of his time hollering at soldiers for infractions like being late and not making their beds. When the mission requires it, the man can be forceful. Pair that with Holtzmann’s wit and technical genius, and The Happy Accidents Contingency will cut a fool.
BUT WAIT. What of the OTHER team?
As readers of Saga know, Alana and Marko are battle-tested soldiers, although they’d much rather just curl up with their daughter and eat some toast. Heimdall is an Asgardian warrior who can see through time and space, and Tulip is such a badass that she once built a bazooka out of coffee cans. Barb brings common sense, practicality, and fierce glasses to the team. Also, there’s an octopus wearing a fez, for the love for Pete.
Either of these teams would be formidable enough on its own–but imagine a crossover. We could call it Justice for Happy Accidents.**** There’s no skirmish from which it couldn’t prevail–or IS THERE?
So @jillwebb and @snarke and I watched Thor: Ragnarok yesterday for the first of what will likely be multiple times. I laughed. I cheered. I was worried for a bit about the lack of Heimdall.
But as Legolas once said to Aragorn: “We have trusted you this far and you have not led us astray. Forgive me. I was wrong to despair.” For Hemidall there was, dear Reader.
Heimdall, for those not familiar****, was the sentry of the Bifröst, watching for any attacks against Asgard. He has the superhuman strength, speed, etc of a typical Asgardian, but is much stronger than most. However, he also possesses powers of vision and hearing that can traverse time and space. It is said that he can hear sap running through trees and the flap of a butterfly’s wings from a thousand worlds away. His weapon of choice (as well as the key for operating the Bifröst) is an enchanted sword that contains, in his words, “all the cosmic force of the universe.”
****Why would you be unfamiliar? Get on that.
I love Thor as a character. And Loki. And Sif. But Heimdall is a special kind of awesome, and I desperately want him to have his own film.
This tweet from 2013 was most likely sparked by perhaps the most badass takedown I’ve seen on screen, from Thor: The Dark World.
Racing a CLOAKED ship, jumping off a bridge, and bringing it down primarily with two daggers (yes, there was also some sword action in there, but the daggers did the majority of the work)? I YELLED IN THE THEATRE, READER.**
**I mean, really respectfully and such. I’m not THAT kind of fan.
For his loyalty to Asgard and to Thor, Heimdall is stripped of his position during the events of The Dark World.
But he doesn’t just go off to a beach and order quesadillas and tiny umbrella drinks for the next thousand years. NOPE. In Ragnarok, he manages to steal the sword that controls the Bifröst and hide it from Hela, while also secretly collecting Asgardian citizens and stowing them away, like a Hungry Hungry Hippo to a tasty marble.
While he may no longer have access to the golden armor, Heimdall remains an incredible formidable fighter throughout Ragnarok, spending most of his time thwarting enemies with his smolder.
At the film’s conclusion, we learn he’s also an instant spaceship pilot for some reason, because why not? He’s had the time and resources to watch virtually anyone do virtually anything. To Heimdall, all the worlds are a giant YouTube channel.
We’re about to enter the season of celebration! It’s that hallowed time of year when we are filled with spirit, rejoice in the things that bring us joy, and receive gifts.
I’m speaking, of course, about Sci-Fi / Fantasy / Comic Book Movie Time.
It begins next week with Thor: Ragnarok, which you already know because you watched The Hulk’s entrance like 495 times over the summer.
So I thought that today, I’d paint Mjölnir, Thor’s hammer.
This was my first time working with watercolors in several years, and I’d forgotten the extent to which they tend to be a bit….what’s the word?
Right. Within the first two minutes, it became abundantly clear that whatever I was panting did not resemble a hammer, nor ANY kind of tool or weapon. So instead, the painting’s focus shifted to the *aftermath* of said hammer. What would the sparks look like upon collision?
Salvaging some of the black and blue hues from the original work, I washed off most of the rest and used a combination of brushes and sponges to create a bruised, bubbly effect. I finished by adding sky blue as an accent. I particularly like the magenta / ultramarine tattoo in the bottom left.