#the end is referencing an alternate scene i debated writing but decided not to for the drama | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

escelia · 1 year

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Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Here's part 3 (or chapter 4) of my fic Not So Normal. After this installment, I'm planning on uploading the series to ao3 as well as Tumblr so stay tuned for that link to drop!

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterpost

Not So Normal pt3

TW: vague, brief descriptions/mentions of violence, vivisection, and panic attacks

It had been a total accident. His parents were supposed to be halfway to a science convention by then. When Danny floated through the floor and into the kitchen he hadn't expected his mothe- he hadn't expected Maddie to be there. He should have expected the gun in his face a moment later, but definitely not the hole she'd put in his chest before he'd even gotten a word out. It happened so fast. The shouting and shooting, the thermos…

He'd come to on the exam table in the lab, wrists bound, bright light in his face. He could barely make out the figures just beyond it, though he knew exactly who they were. He'd begged and screamed and cried, anything to get them to listen. Jack had gotten Maddie to take a breath and listen for a moment as Danny tried to get it through to them that he was their son!

"I'm Danny, it's me! I'm still me! Please, mom, you've gotta believe me!"

They believed him. He never thought that would make it worse. They became curious in a way they weren't before. Less angry about the dastardly spook they thought had been impersonating their son and more eager to tear into the science experiment they believed legally belonged to them. They called him an abomination that was no longer human and gripped their scalpels with cruel excitement on their faces. He remembered screaming for hours.

Only Clockwork would be able to say how long he'd been like that. All Danny had known was that he was tired and weak, his throat was dry and his entire body ached. He'd been in human form for the whole thing, and though it was much more painful that way, it kept them from getting to his core. He would only ever be grateful for that.

Eventually it was Jazz that had released him. Jack and Maddie had stepped out for dinner believing his restraints would hold his weakened body. They'd been right, he couldn't have escaped on his own, but Jazz had snuck down to the basement right after they'd left and shoved him through the portal, telling him not to come back, it wasn't safe, but to contact her when he knew he was okay. She'd locked the portal's blast door behind him. There, drifting in the vast green of the Realms, he cried and cried until he felt himself fall through a natural portal.

He'd dropped into a dirty alley with a painful thud and couldn't suppress the cry of pain as rocks and dirt pressed into his wounds.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" He'd heard a man call. Gentle but firm hands helped him sit up, his own hands busy keeping his chest closed and smearing the blood and dirt that already covered him. The man gasped in horror as Danny begged for help.

Turns out the man that found him was none other than Bruce Wayne. He was alright as far as billionaires went; far more sane than Vlad at the very least. When Bruce asked what happened all he could get out was that his parents hurt him and he never wanted to go back there. Bruce had decided then and there that he would keep Danny. They'd taken pictures of the damage for court, thinking they would need to build a solid case since Danny was healing up well. He even called in a few favors with his lawyers. The Fentons, though, oh they helped plenty.

"Dr's Fenton, how do you plead?"

"Guilty! That thing is a monster! It belongs to us! That's our experiment! It's fooled you all! You'll see, just wait!"

Several of the officers around the courtroom had to restrain them as Maddie screamed and flailed. Jack was fuming. But much more docile than his wife. The pictures and testimonies had been enough to prove them guilty of child abuse and neglect, but their outburst all but sealed their fate as unsuitable parents. That day, Danny found a new place to call home, and a new family he was ready to die for.

~~•○•~~

Today was the day! Er- night! Tonight was the night! Danny was finally going out on patrol with the bat clan officially. After the events at the warehouse and his family finally learning about his past as Fenton and Phantom, Bruce has asked Danny if he was interested in patrolling with them. Damian had vouched for Danny, doling out thinly veiled compliments about his fighting prowess. Bruce decidedly kept that info to himself. The enthusiasm with which Danny responded had Bruce regretting asking, but it was clear that Danny had been itching to get out there and fight some crime.

Due to his experience, he'd been paired with Nightwing for the night. Dick had cheered at finally getting some one on one time with Danny, pulling him in for the kind of suffocating hug only an older sibling could provide. They had an absolute blast that night. Dick would show off, doing fun, dangerous looking flips off of buildings before firing his grappling hook at the last minute. And Danny could keep up, even as he swung through the air. It made Dick cackle in delight. Quietly of course, they were very stealthy, thank you! (Dick had to be shushed over the coms several times, and Danny was able to keep his laughter to a quiet snicker.)

They'd been on a roll with Danny being able to cover so much ground from so high up. In just the first few hours they'd stopped at least three muggings, recovered a stolen car, and prevented a bank robbery before it had even begun. Hearing his father commend him for a job well done over the coms made him glow with pride. He'd never had so much fun on patrol before. It made his core vibrate with glee.

"Danny, are you… purring?" Dick asked. He heard the others gasp over the coms.

"No! No, now way, I'm absolutely not purring! What gave you that idea?"

"He purrs?" Tim guffawed over the line, and Steph began to giggle uncontrollably.

"Absolutely not!"

"I've found he purrs when he's incredibly happy or content, just like a cat," Damian explained. He could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Aaawwwwwww! I'm happy spending time with you too, baby ghost!" Danny was smothered with another hug.

"Betrayed. By my baby brother! I cannot believe this."

"Settle down everyone! We're still on the clock," came the gruff, authoritative voice of Batman.

Sobering up from the moment, Danny and Dick went back to patrolling. It was starting to get quiet in their area, the others reporting incidents in their own sections of the city. It gave them time to grab a snack before something new popped up.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Nightwing began, taking a bite of his granola bar.

"I am," Danny replied. His snack of choice was a pack of fruit snacks. "Patrolling in my old haunt was exhausting. It was just me and my two friends out there most nights. Fight after fight after fight… I have a sense that lets me detect the presence of other ghosts, and it seemed to go off nonstop there. I was lucky if I got eight hours of sleep in a week, let alone a night." He paused to pop a few snacks in his mouth. Dick was quietly attentive, munching on his granola bar.

"Here, I know I've got someone to watch my back. And it helps that humans are much easier to handle non-violently than ghosts."

"I'm glad you like it here, Phantom," Nightwing said with a smile, using his codename. Danny smiled back, getting ready to toss a few fruit snacks into his mouth but stopping short when a chill unfurled on his chest. He gasped, dropping his snacks. Seemed like their break was over.

"What's wrong?" Nightwing asked alert now, eyes flicking around the area to perceive the threat.

"Get behind me."

"What?"

"Just do it! You're not equipped to fight ghosts!"

At the word ghost, the coms erupted in chaos. Danny shouted at them to stay clear, he could handle it just fine, it was probably a small fry anyways. Dick followed his directions, getting behind Danny but not cowering. No, his big brother was covering his back. Sure enough, about a minute later, three large glowing vultures rose over the edge of the rooftop.

"Awe great, it's the birds with the hats! What do you want?"

"Good evening to you, too, King Phantom," one of them snickered. Danny just scowled.

"Plasmius sent us to, and I quote, 'knock some sense inta ya.'" another one said, making air quotations with the tips of his wings.

"I'll have you know I've got a thermos here with your names on it and no access to a portal. How does an extended stay in Soupland sound?" Danny waved his thermos threateningly at them, a sarcastic smile on his face.

"How does taking your little friend here hostage sound?" The last one threatened, perching his claws on Dick's shoulders. Faster than Dick could blink, Danny had spun around, ice shooting out to freeze the two other two birds, thermos pointed like a gun, while clawed fingers wrapped around the third one's neck. The bird squawked in fear.

Frost swirled dangerously around his aura, and Dick swallowed nervously in the face of its intensity. Danny's eyes were glowing a furious, toxic green, and even though the glare wasn't directed at him, he could feel its anger. Dick had seen him like this at the warehouse, sure. But now, this close, Dick truly understood the sheer power that Danny possessed, the majesty that was this eldritch creature in front of him. Somehow, all he felt in his presence was safe.

Danny growled at the ghost clutching at Nightwing, squeezing until the talons loosened.

"Why did Vlad send you?" He questioned. Absently, Dick thought he reminded him of Bruce in interrogation mode.

"He's mad some other guy adopted you or something, the same usual psycho spiel!"

"What's he planning!"

"I don't know! He was going on about how you're supposed to be his son and was throwing things. He wanted us to come rough up you and your new family. He's real mad, but that's all we know, I swear!"

It was silent for a moment while Danny absorbed the information. He regarded the vulture with cold eyes but didn't release him. He should have known Vlad would try something like this. His adoption wasn't super public but it wasn't like it was a secret either, so he'd been bound to find out. Most ghosts respected him too much as King now to threaten anyone Danny considered family, but Vlad always had his ways. He'd have to take care of it without getting the others involved.

Making up his mind, he hit the button on his thermos, sucking up the frozen ghosts and the ice along with it before swinging it around and shoving the end on the last one's beak, trapping him too. Dick sagged in relief once they were gone and Danny made a fuss about checking his shoulders to make sure he wasn't injured.

"Phantom, what was that about!" Bruce's voice was strained over the coms, likely because he didn't know what to do or how to help. Damn, Danny had forgotten that the others could hear them. At the time it had been a brilliant idea; Danny infusing the coms with ectoplasm meant that not only could Danny use them without causing interference, but they were now some of the most secure lines of communication on earth. There went his plan to keep his family out of it.

"Just some unfinished business," Danny replied, trying to sound unbothered. "The hostiles have been apprehended, and there are no injuries. We're good to continue patrolling."

Dick eyed him skeptically.

"Absolutely not. Turn in for the night you two, we'll debrief at the end of patrol," was Batman's stern order.

"No way, more are bound to show up-"

"Which is why you'll need to teach us how to fight them. We'll need you level headed for that, Phantom. Head back to the cave. We'll talk later."

Danny pouted. He could be level headed and still finish patrol! He could! At least that's what he told himself while he clenched his fists to stop them from shaking. Dick put a comforting hand on his shoulder. It was cold.

"Why don't we have Agent A make us some hot chocolate and we'll tuck in for a movie while we wait for the others," he suggested. The ghost searched his brother's face, seeing concern even underneath his domino.

"Fine," Danny conceded. "But I get to pick the movie."

By the time the others had gotten back to the manor Danny was curled up on the couch, chilly toes tucked underneath his brother's thigh and hands curled around a warm mug while the credits for James Cameron's Avatar rolled on the TV. Damian reached over the back of the couch and gave Danny's shoulder a squeeze, pulling him from his post hot coco daze. They had a meeting to get started.

~~•○•~~

As everyone settled around the meeting table in the cave, Damian made a beeline to the seat next to Danny. He would never admit to anyone that he'd been jealous that Danny had been sent out with Richard. Logically, he knew there was no real reason for Brother to come with Father and himself. He wasn't getting dethroned as Robin, and he had enough experience that Father could trust Danny out with a patrol partner. Still, he'd wanted to be there for his first experience patrolling as a member of the family. After the events of the evening, he wished even more he'd been there.

He'd heard of this Vlad before, and never in a good light, though he knew nothing more than that Danny did not like him. It was clear he'd been a source of great stress before he had come to them. Damian was frustrated that he couldn't be there to put their assailants in their place. It looked as though Danny had never mentioned Vlad to anyone else. Damian didn't know if he was proud or concerned by that. Instead of voicing his thoughts on the matter, he leaned in close to Danny's ear to whisper.

"Are you sure we're not blood related?" Damian asked with a smirk.

"What?" Danny whispered back, confused.

"When you were questioning the, what were they, birds? You sounded like Father." Danny turned to blink at him, trying to process the comment. "It is a compliment, Danny."

"Oh!"

"What are you two whispering about?" Tim asked from across the table. He'd leaned one hand onto the table with the other on his hip like an amused mother who'd caught her children conspiring.

"It's none of your concern, Drake." Danny chuckled and shrugged at him, miming zipping his lips shut.

"Alright, mission report, Phantom," Bruce interrupted, approaching the table and throwing a folder down. "What was tonight about?" Danny took a deep breath to keep himself calm.

"An old thorn in my side. The vulture ghosts were sent by a guy who used to bother me back in Amity Park. Had this crazy idea that if he killed my family, he could have me all to himself as some little heir to his evil empire. Seems he heard about my adoption."

Bruce frowned deep at that. So he was a threat to be concerned about. Good thing he'd done some research on ghost weapons then. He tapped the folder.

"If he'll be sending more ghosts to attack us, then we need to know how to fight them. I've taken the liberty of doing some research on weaponry. DalvCo is willing-"

"Absolutely not!" Danny stopped him short. Bruce barely stopped himself from groaning. It had been a long night, and now was not the time to be argumentative.

"We need weapons. This isn't up for discussion."

"That wasn't a request, Bruce. As High King of the Infinite Realms, I forbid my family from doing business with DalvCo and, subsequently, Vlad 'Plasmius' Masters, who owns it." Bruce's face contorted with understanding after his words. The others were quick to catch on. He heard Dick grumble about how the name wasn't even clever, and it made Danny smirk.

"Besides," Danny continued, a sly grin overtaking his face. His teeth were a little too sharp in his mouth. "I have a much better plan. Tim, how do you feel about mad science?"

Tim's eyes gleamed, and his grin, teeth less sharp and far more human, matched Danny's.

"You can build weapons?" Damian guessed next to him. Danny glowed with pride.

"Of course I can, I'm Daniel Fenton-Wayne, after all!"

~~•○•~~

Meanwhile, in Soupland

"I told you we shoulda just told him what was up, then got outta there."

"How was I supposed to know he was gonna ice you two?"

"Oh, please, the ice was tame. He souped us! He said he doesn't have access to a portal and he souped us!"

"That's what we get for threatening someone close to our King."

"Exactly, we shouldn'ta done that. We're too old for this!"

"I may be old, but I'm not deaf. Stop shouting in my ear, loud mouth!"

"Well, then get your wing outta my face, flabby feathers!"

"In case you haven't noticed, IT'S FROZEN!"

"We coulda been on a tropical southern island by now if it weren't for that Plasmius jerk pitting us against Phantom."

"Yeah!"

"Yeeaah!"

"We should work for the King from now on."

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lodessa · 1 year

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20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written? 21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why? 22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing?

Thanks for the ask <3

20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written?

Mostly I just choose song lyrics (or a word/phrase that is vaguely the right vibe to me) but I actually came up with four different real/good titles for The Half-Life Fallacy (thanks to @romeorevoarchive who helped me brainstorm). They were as follows:

The Half-Life Fallacy (The winner, basically referencing the lingering impact of certain events and how they never actually disappear completely.)

Star Thistle Summer (kind of a double meaning, both because star thistle is painful, stubborn and resilient, but also because it is one of those plants that will take over after a wildfire. It really just worked well both for the initial Blackout vibe but also the relationship dynamics/Matheson characteristics.)

Manzanita Blaze (Leaning more heavily into the plants/wildfire metaphor. Manzanita is one of those plants that uses fire to propagate, it's also a very twisty tree. It is double catastrophe that brings and keeps them together, no matter how wrong and impossible it should be on paper. It just fit them.)

Forks in a Circular Road (Learning into the sense of inevitability of where the fic ends up, and also the framing of Bass' narration. This is an AU where you can take a totally different path, but in some ways you are going to end up on the same road.)

I'm also pretty happy with the title of my most current WIP: The Backup, which ties into the many different uses of backup/back up:

Providing support, backing.

A secondary choice, being “on the bench”.

To step back, go backwards.

To rebound, recover, “get back up”

21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why?

I used to really struggle with this, so I developed an alternative method, where I just cut/paste the problem section into a new document instead of deleting it. Sometimes a scene just isn't taking you where you need to go to get to the next story beat, sometimes it doesn't really follow from what came before, but it is hard to get rid of something you wrote if you actually like anything about it. Taking it out of the context it isn't working in without trashing it made it so much easier for me to recognize when that was the case. Putting it in a new document sometimes means it just sits there, but I have had times where I ended up using it as the seed for a new fic, and times where later on it turned out if totally fit in the same fic I wrote it for, just in a totally different part of the story.

Right now I am actually debating this for a section I have written for The Backup that doesn't really make sense following what I wrote before it. I'm still trying to decide whether it just needs to be later in the story, or it needs to be in a different fic entirely.

*Putting a sneak peak at the end of the post under a read more if anyone wants to look.

22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing?

I usually have an idea of where a fic is going to end up, though the path there is often either murky or not the one I end up following. For some "current" WIPs:

k'war'ma'khon: Originally was just supposed to be a little flash ficlet, but once I decided to move beyond that, the inevitable ending had to be Georgiou (and Sarek and the crew of the Discovery) rescuing Michael (or I guess Michael breaking free). However, I definitely didn't initially think that Spock was going to show up or have any idea how I was going to get Michael out of Klingon prison.

Dragon Marked: The eventual ending to this one is very epic and complex, involving reincarnation, magic, science, conspiracy theories, politics, and dragons. I actually brainstormed the plot (not the what plot ;-P) part out with my husband. There's a lot of ground to cover before that though, so who knows what might change.

The Backup: Being canon divergent but set during season 3 gives me some nice boundaries. The reader and I know who the Heart Rapist is already. That's not the question, the questions are about how Veronica and Weevil who are now on a different path because of what's gone differently will solve that mystery, catch him, but also how they will manage the ways their dynamic has shifted. This fic started from the desire to have both of those things go in a different direction than canon did, so the ending is where I started with this one.

As promised, a scene I don't know whether I will keep in The Backup of not:

“Does it ever feel like nothing you do actually makes a difference?” V asks, at the bottom of the stairwell of Mac’s dorm.

Only every fucking day , he thinks, but at the same time he’s pretty sure that’s not actually helpful, and he wants to help Veronica, even though it all feels pointless most of the time. So he stays quiet and waits for her to say more.

“The world is a shitty place and it doesn’t matter how many answers I find, how many bad guys I take down. There’s always another one. So what’s the point? Why bother? Maybe I should just say fuck it and stop trying.”

“That I’d love to see,” he shakes his head, pausing before adding, “Veronica Mars standing idly by. Pretty sure reality might fold in on itself if you stopped digging at every mystery and hammering at injustice, V.”

“Doesn’t make it any less crazy that I do,” she deflects.

“Maybe not,” he concedes, but if she’s crazy what does that make him? “But if it helps people, I would call that the good kind of crazy, and you do help people, Veronica.”

Giving up is the logical response to hopeless situations, but if he did that what would be left for him? What would be left of any of them?

“You want to know a secret?” she asks and he thinks, I want to know all of your secrets.

“Is that a trick question?” he says instead.

“Most of the time, I don’t care about helping people so much as making the bad guy pay. I’m motivated by vengeance and the lure of secrets, not the good that comes from whatever it is I find.”

“Most of the time?” he questions.

“This case is different,” she owns, something he already had picked up on.

“And that’s a bad thing?” he responds instead of asking why even though he wants the answer to that question like a smoker fiending for a cigarette.

“Maybe. Honestly, I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine.”

Part of him wants to take this moment of uncertainty and push things a little, see if she would fall into his arms, turn to him for comfort not just security.

I’ve got you, querida, he could say, pull her close, one hand cradling the back of her head and the other wrapped around her waist. V seems so brittle and shaky right now and he wonders if there have been other times she was like this and he just didn’t know her well enough yet to see it: if he missed the clues or if she hid them better when he was a stranger.

This would have been easier, he suspects, if he’d seen that vulnerability two years ago, back when he was a gang leader and she was an outcast, and they were some sort of high school cliche. Back when she was an intriguing unknown.

But he didn’t see it then, and she’s not a stranger anymore, and maybe it is better they can both pretend he doesn’t see it now.

“Well then, my prediction is that you are going to take this asshole down and someone is going to erect a goddamned statue of you: Veronica Mars: protector of Hearst.”

“Okay, maybe my guess is better than yours, since that is totally not going to happen.”

#about writing fic #weever

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ferusaurelius · 4 years

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Nihlus Fic Headcanons

My latest fic, The husbandry of victory is blood (on AO3), is basically a Nihlus Kryik and Mass Effect mercenary/batarian culture headcanon backstory where @expertmakodriver reacted by asking me to ... please translate w/e I was on about.

So here it is! The English translation of my Nihlus Kryik worldbuilding art project.

In reality, this type of character sketch is something I would normally keep private. But since we need more Nihlus content, both it and the headcanon basis are all public and free to use and/or transform as you see fit without attribution.

Please, I’m begging anyone who might want to use any of these ideas in whole or in part: write it and save me from having to do it myself. You do not need to credit me, but I would appreciate a link to your work so I can promote it! :)

Tfw you actually need to annotate your own fic...

Long post - everything is under the cut!

Organized by the order each element is referenced in the fic, with the divided sections labeled as [NUMBER] on the left.

Edited 5/28/2021 because I forgot some things.

[Title] “The husbandry of victory is blood” - Taken from “Sparta Says No” by A.E. Stallings. I actually thought about using this as an alternative title for another fic, but I figured this background sketch for Nihlus more aligned with the themes. I strongly suggest you go and read the poem without taking my word for the following interpretation: the contrast between growth and destruction, and civilization built through conquest or through agriculture. I enjoy the high-level commentary on society. The metaphorical encounter between farming and war is something I wanted to bring to my work, and I wanted the title to color the tone of the epigraph from Virgil’s Georgics. On a more personal level -- my grandfather joined the military in part to seek out opportunities he wouldn’t have had if he’d stayed on a farm, and I decided to draw on that experience for Nihlus.

[Epigraph] - Virgil, Georgics Book I (tr. H. R. Fairclough) - I picked a public domain translation of the poem and went hunting around for a line that had juxtaposed farming and war imagery. It’s a fairly common classical motif! Wars often stopped and started based on the seasonal harvest and the necessity of feeding the community and supplying the troops. You can’t fight a war and gather in wheat at the same time. Digging up the weapons pf the dead in farm fields is a powerful image. My take on Nihlus draws on the tension between fighting and negotiation that I also connect to the symbolic opposition between agriculture and warfare. The Georgics are also just really neat.

[1] Half-face markings - I could write a whole headcanon post on turian colony markings and how mercenary modifications fit in with them (and I will at some point). You’ll see in this fic that I regularly use terms for how much ‘real estate’ the colony markings cover. My HC is that there are variations of colony markings that can be worn as minimalist (smallest critical details), half-face (upper or lower, may include simple full-face designs without a lot of paint), full-face (both, usually more elaborate), and full-crest (what it sounds like on the tin). These are all just different styles and up to personal preference, though there are a few cultural connotations or stereotypes about people who choose which version. Plus I felt really bad for people who might have super-complicated full versions of markings and wanted to give them something more aesthetically lightweight that would have the same meaning.

[1] Batarian trader patois - An evolving lingua franca with many dialects. Nihlus is uncannily fluent at the one spoken in the Terminus, which is mutually intelligible with the dialect spoken in the Attican Traverse. This is a language without a formal codex that sounds a little strange even to batarians born into the Hegemony. Since batarians have been around and in contact with the Citadel and council races for ~1000 years longer than turians (true if the timeline on the wiki is correct, but I haven’t done the backdating myself), I HC that batarians have a more refined and developed spacer and trading culture. Traders and smugglers are infamous for liking to be beyond Hegemony control and when their government withdrew from Council space, they just kept up with business as usual. Many of them have a shared religion based on debate and argument over the meaning of the Pillars of Strength and the way to live an honorable life.

[1] Terminus languages - They exist, both with and without formal linguistic codexes available to ordinary citizens of Council space.

[1] Hierarchy basic - The common turian colonial language spoken in Hierarchy space. Nihlus was born outside turian space, so he had to learn it from his parents and from educational videos. While he has only a vague accent, certain words and phrases he uses come off as very strange to turians who were raised in Hierarchy space.

[1] Draughts - A popular ancient board game dating back to before the Romans. Pieces move by sliding on the board or jumping over each other to capture. I originally wanted to use river stones as a metaphor, but Nihlus at that age had never seen naturally flowing water. I figure everyone has a version of a capturing/marker/stones sort of game.

[1] Amma and appa - Batarian words for grandmother and grandfather. Nihlus is a bit of a ‘surprise’ baby for his parents. This nice older smuggler couple are longtime associates of the mercenary group and, while they have never done fighting themselves and have no children of their own, they are friends of his mother and father and are absolutely delighted to “adopt” him. He is their smol spikey grandson, they teach him to speak and act like a proper young batarian, and anyone who argues with them about how exactly he is related will end up on the wrong side of an airlock.

[1] Vatar - A canon planet in the Mass Effect universe with a cold and inhospitable environment, located a short relay hop away from Omega (“downtown”) in the Terminus Systems. Mercenary groups have outposts dug into the surface. I rolled with it.

[1] Falx - The turian name of the mercenary group Nihlus is born into. A falx is both a Roman entrenching tool and also the most overhyped Dacian curved blade weapon you’ll see in ancient art and literature. In essence? The word has been used to refer to both weapons and farming tools for a very long time. The group is a batarian-lead mercenary company with a very long history of turian cooperation, which enjoys stable political ties to other such batarian splinter groups. Traders and smugglers often form the links between them. The batarian word for members of this same group translates as “harvesters” or “reapers.” HAHA. And you thought this was a no-Reapers AU…

[1] Truce customs - A batarian mercenary outpost thing. If you’re friendly and in mechanical distress, or if you have something to trade, it’s not unusual to head to a known group of mercenaries and ask for truce on tightbeam broadcast to get someone to meet you or actively flag your ship with their ident codes (aka: make you temporarily register in local space as belonging to their ‘fleet’). This is usually for medical essentials, emergency mechanical trouble, and also serves as an informal way for Terminus merchants and traders to make a living without having to worry about being boarded every time they deliver the groceries. It’s considered a grave breach of etiquette to violate truce terms and those who do are hunted down as examples to the rest. Truce terms make “ordinary life” possible for outposts that are otherwise on the edge of traveled space.

[1] Trade-cloth - A canon quarian cultural object. Mentioned in the the fandom wiki and probably part of a quarian codex somewhere. Intricately patterned cloth is common on the Migrant Fleet, but the personal cloths are seldom given to outsiders. Nihlus’s gift is one used in trade, but displays a pattern with more ‘friendly’ cultural connotations than something that would be sold and mass-produced in a shop. It was made special for him by his childhood quarian friends. It’s something that it would be appropriate for him to wear like a scarf on formal occasions when he’s dealing with quarians, or when he’s invited to quarian parties or festivals.

[1] Colony crescents / Falx sickles - Yeah there’s some repetition here, but it’s mostly to contrast the two. I HC that Nihlus’s base colony markings are already curved. “Sickles” are embellishments which add a cutting or combative edgeline in some places and very overt stylized weaponry to standard colony markings. They are additions or alterations that are unique to mercenary groups and may read as “flamboyant” or “aggressive” because they are noticeably different in appearance to Hierarchy turians. This is more or less on purpose, and is a bit on the taboo side. One does not wear these additions or draw their markings in these styles without genuinely belonging to one of these groups -- the patterns are not easy to reproduce correctly or in the right places, and they are generally a source of stigma in Hierarchy basic training.

[1] Sand-bath - How you clean a turian when water is scarce and everyone has to share it.

[2] Draw and fire from retention - The shooting-sports specific term for “shooting from the hip.” Kinda. This breakdown of a scene from Collateral, one of my all-time favorite Michael Mann films, will give you an idea. All of the referenced gun techniques are also more or less real, and lining up your body posture so that it helps with aiming and putting the rounds where you want them to go is a real thing. Nihlus has a great deal of practice in shooting as self-defense and was training alongside professionals from a young age. Going to the range is one of his hobbies (but not mine, I’m lame and that’s loud).

[2] Triginta Petra - A canon Mass Effect world that is a dustball home to hardscrabble turian farmers. Kavala Kryik’s family were some of the first colonists and they’ve been scratching a living from the surface since she was nine years old. They are very proud of this fact, since it gave them opportunities they wouldn’t have had on their native Oma Ker (also a canon turian world).

[2] Laskaris - Nihlus’s mother’s original family name. Kavala Laskaris. While I don’t have any particular headcanon about whether or not turians do the whole ‘changing surname’ thing when they marry or pair off or whatever, Kavala really liked both the alliteration and the overall aesthetic. Joked with Inaros Kryik, her husband and Nihlus’s father, that she only married him for his pretty colony markings.

[2] Lupulin - Literally, hop acids and the essential oils that you get from ‘hoppy’ beer. A direct reference to hops (Humulus lupulus) and brewing, because why not? Actually is a mild sedative and produces a bit of a chemical high.

[2] Stiletto - A pistol from Haliat armory (turian weapons manufacturer).

[2] Blooded sickles - Worn only by mercenaries who are full / fighting members of Falx or their direct allies. Batarians have their own culturally-coded marks, some of which have been adopted and/or adapted by their turian members as embellishments to colony markings. I HC that newer “commercial” groups like the Blue Suns and Nyreen’s Talons, without a shared cultural background, are imitating this style of marking rather than the other way around. Merc-born turians with old-style batarian trade connections tend to recognize each other through these symbols, which are used most often outside of Council space (i.e. the Terminus Systems and the Attican Traverse).

[2] Pillars of Strength - Canon batarian religious artifact. I treat them as a text or a particular philosophy that values free will and independent action as the signifiers of ‘strength.’ While I don’t have a fleshed out or specific HC for what the ‘tenets’ are, I do know that slave implants are treated as anathema.

[3] Struthious - A reference to Earth ostriches. Some kind of chicken-like prey animal that turians like to cook and eat. Mostly because the thought of Nihlus running around like a chicken to entertain his sisters made me laugh.

[4] Cutter - Bigger than a personal clipper and better armed, with living space for a crew. They come in various sizes and are smaller than frigates.

[4] Cup of mourning - A turian funerary ritual. On Taetrus, performed with a distinctive form of dark ale. Different colony groups have different cultural traditions.

[4] Thalia, Tomyris, and Traian - Nihlus’s three turian siblings. Thalia and Tomyris are his younger twin sisters. Traian is the youngest and his baby brother. While they’re only hinted at in this fic, I do plan to make some references to them in the Air Needing Light arc at some point. There’s also a chance they’ll get their own short!fic appearances.

[4] Hierarchy military grants - A HC pool of money that the Council races put up to fund large-scale basic training for anyone (turian or another client race) completing compulsory citizen service.

[5] Talons and suns - Generic references to other symbols that are common incorporations for mercenary groups. I HC that these were adopted and color-coded by the Blue Suns and the Talons rather than conceptually created by them!

[5] Fuck the cause, we’ll die for a drink! - Profane versions of the turian Hierarchy anthem are popular drinking songs among the merc-born. If it’s a patriotic and well-known song, you can pretty much guarantee turian mercenaries have parodied it. Awkward for colony-born squadmates who find these renditions hilarious and catchy—but also a little horrifying.

[6] Optio Sideris, 85th Atrax Legion, Fifth Cohort Operations Section - A one-off turian Blackwatch OC I may bring back in another fic at some point because I ended up liking her. The Hierarchy military organization borrows from the HCs I use for the Air Needing Light AU: 85th Atrax Legion is a joint special forces organizing legion made up of six cohorts. The 5th Cohort is informally known as Blackwatch, while the “Operations Section” is a generic term used by intelligence operators. Optio is a mid-tier leadership rank.

[6] Batarian body language - Batarian language and manners are highly dependent on physical cues according to the Mass Effect canon. I took this one step further with a HC that Nihlus is essentially a native speaker of turian-adapted gestures that translate successfully into batarian social patterns. This physical vocabulary is most refined and most present in culturally batarian mercenary and trading groups with a strong history of turian association and recruitment. While older turians can learn and approximate the gestures, they are best learned and absorbed in childhood. Nihlus “speaks” a form of gestural batarian that places him as a native of the Terminus Systems.

[6] Interrogating batarian prisoners - No torture involved! Optio Sideris trains Nihlus in a more practical form of intelligence gathering that involves building rapport, establishing trust, and remaining consistent. Even pirates or smugglers who would not normally give information to a Hierarchy patrol flotilla can be convinced to—if not speak—occasionally offer hints about the locations and activity of slavers. Nihlus is notable for actually being conversant in traditional batarian moral interpretations of the Pillars of Strength, as well as being able to walk the fine cultural line between guarded respect and abject deference.

[6] Merc Red - Nihlus’s batarian nickname among the patrol flotilla’s prisoners. A sign of individual respect, since it contains no profanity and is just blandly descriptive.

[7] Broken weapons - A traditional sign of thanks between two non-allied mercenary groups when one has agreed to truce terms. Mostly symbolic.

[7] Tattoos - The permanent marking method of choice when turians are full-grown and have developed a strong preference for the color and personal style of their colony markings. Nihlus decides on a complex ‘full-crest’ Taetran colony pattern embellished with Falx blood sickles. This is more or less him being loud and proud about both his colony origins and his mercenary background, as well as putting them on an even footing by tattooing the entire pattern: mercenary symbols and all.

#mass effect #nihlus kryik #my headcanons #my writing #air-needing-light #long post #fanfiction #nihlus kryik headcanons

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communisticrevolution · 5 years

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I wrote another essay about homoeroticism - this one’s on The Great Gatsby

I’m not sure if anyone cares about this because I can’t envision The Great Gatsby fandom being as desperate for such content as the Lord of the Flies one, but I hope that anyone who can be bothered to read enjoys it! Thank you for all the positive feedback, and check out The Great Gatsby if you haven’t already :))

Although on a purely superficial level, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald is a blatantly obvious examination of the American Dream, the shallowness of the upper classes, and the underlying corruption and hedonism perpetually underpinning affluent 1920s society, an alternative and previously analysed reading of the novel lies partially below the surface, yet evident enough to possess a significant critical following. This theme is, undeniably, homoeroticism, perhaps hidden and coded implicitly within the text to disguise still criminalised components, but crucially important, particularly from the perspective of understanding Nick Carraway’s narration, and the nature of his conspicuous bias towards Jay Gatsby which skews his reliability significantly when recognised by the reader. Despite his proclamation at the end of Chapter 3 stating that his ‘cardinal virtue’ is that he is ‘one of the few honest people that I have (he has) ever known,’ from the beginning of his subjective account of events, his descriptions of others suggest that his statement of being ‘inclined to reserve all judgments’ on the first page is contradicted by his profiling of others, both physically and in regards to their personalities. This is almost relentless and lacking in exclusive scrutiny, offering an insight which appears to be detached, consequently lulling the reader into believing Carraway’s points surrounding his allegedly objectively accurate retelling of the summer – however, even before this, Nick admits the one major and vital fault of his perception, which is Gatsby. Even as it becomes clear to all parties that Gatsby is, in many ways, extremely morally flawed (he is an illegal bootlegger by profession, he is obsessive and somewhat manipulative of Daisy, he facilitates and encourages her infidelity, he is fixated on materialistic wealth, and he frequently lacks consideration for others if it ensures his ability to pursue his ambitions), to Nick, he represents ‘everything for which I have (he has) unaffected scorn.’ For our narrator, this character is symbolic of hope, success, and romance, and when the inherently decaying American Dream inevitably collapses, as exhibited by Gatsby’s murder towards the end of the plot, Nick’s portrayal in hindsight is not altered by Jay’s faults, but by his positive attributes. Prior to a genuine introduction with a scene involving the two, Nick writes that ‘there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life,’ and this permeates all. Regardless of whether or not the assumption is made that Nick is describing merely Gatsby’s metaphorical and figurative role in the story, it is clear since the book commences that his perception of the titular man could, in many ways, be interpreted as one of intense passion and attraction, far beyond the platonic relationships he has with other individuals, and later extending to him conveying the physical beauty that is highly appealing to him concerning Gatsby. Even Nick’s love interest, Jordan Baker, is not exempt from his reproval, and is, in fact, articulated to be ‘dishonest,’ with negative and emotionally lacklustre depictions that prompt questions surrounding the easily debatable strength and plausibility of his romantic interest in her.

One major scene that is consistently referenced and considered to be majorly indicative of Nick’s sexual orientation occurs very early on into the novel towards the end of Chapter 2 – it is incredibly subtle and often overlooked especially by first time readers due to the cryptic nature of its language and the seemingly comparatively unimportant series of events that ensue. In fact, one could argue that there is generally very little need to include such a scene, and thus contemplate why Fitzgerald decides to do so regardless. Usually, from a literary perspective, for something to be rendered worthy of inclusion, it must serve to develop plot, characters, or a specific setting and atmosphere in adherence to overriding themes, and the focus upon Nick, still as a relatively submissive bystander who is simultaneously immersed enough to offer a narrative insight, indicates that the only feasible value available must be revolving around his character development. The plot is not advanced as the occurrences are entirely overlooked and left with no true contextual repercussions, and the setting at this point is not focal nor enhanced with adjectives and figurative language that would suggest a distinct relationship between the whole surrounding set of dates and the West and East Egg regions which become recurring areas with allocated symbolic values, and ergo this being the reason.

Here, most notably, Fitzgerald must be attempting to prove or infer something about Nick Carraway, which I believe, largely due to substantial implicit evidence within the text, to be referring primarily to one of the many factors culminating to formulate his broad unreliability; a sense of sexual ambiguity, and the blatantly apparent evasion and withholding of information, but still without avoidance of the subject in its entirety, implied by the use of ellipses to signify both time passing and suppressed detailing of the true events. In regards to homoerotic subtext, this component potentially begins with the description of Mr McKee, the character that Nick purportedly has an affair with, as ‘pale’ and ‘feminine’ upon first encounter, two adjectives directly referencing a lack of masculinity and, in turn, the stereotype of effeminate fragility typically associated with homosexual men. His involvement in the ‘’artistic game’’ has, again, subtextual connotations with homosexual and, possibly to a lesser extent, bisexual males, as the following of artistic pursuits was perceived to be more traditionally feminine, and perhaps later adhering to forms of aestheticism and the almost synonymously analogous and prominent figure of Oscar Wilde, who was and still is renowned for both aesthetic and philosophical reasons and his historical persecution for gross indecency. With this evocation of Mr McKee in mind, suggesting his lack of conformity to societal norms through sexual deviation, at around 10 o’clock, Nick wipes ‘from his cheek the spot of dried lather’ that had ‘been bothering him’ over the course of the evening, a remarkably intimate gesture, and an otherwise broadly inexplicable fixation within the context of this man’s likely homosexuality. Later, Mr McKee proceeds to leave the room, and Nick follows without hesitation, implying almost a non-verbal communication which results in the scene in the elevator, laden with highly euphemistic linguistic choices. Mr McKee uses the command ‘Come to lunch with me some day’ in a manner reminiscent of an individual asking another out in a cryptically heteronormative tone, coupled with the pair ‘groaning’ down the elevator, a verb synonymous with overtly sexual onomatopoeia. Nick agrees, saying he’ll ‘be glad to,’ perhaps an admission to both the reader and Mr McKee that the feeling implied by the latter is to some extent reciprocated, indicating that Nick himself is not heterosexual. Just before this, a ‘lever’ is incorporated which Mr McKee is shunned for allegedly touching, seemingly a clear phallic symbol due to its vague resemblance of a penis, reinforcing the layers of homoerotism and the ambiance leading up to a romantic or sexual encounter involving the two characters that have distanced themselves from the overwhelming group, potentially a metaphor for the exclusion and separation of the LGBT community necessary for protection in an intolerant outside world. This scenario, abruptly led and finished with a series of ellipses, concludes with Nick, our narrator, ‘standing beside his (Mr McKee’s) bed,’ as Mr McKee is ‘sitting up between the sheets, clad in his underwear, with a great portfolio in his hands.’ Nick ends up at a train station waiting for the ‘four o’ clock train,’ leaving what truly happened with Mr McKee largely a mystery, but the aforementioned’s nakedness and the presence of a bed, as well as the feasibly metaphorical ‘portfolio,’ all indicate that a sexual encounter took place between the two, as little other explanation is given for the passing of six hours shown to have been almost exclusively in each other’s company. As always, Nick’s bystander-esque lack of involvement even in situations centring predominantly around him leaves room for plausible deniability; maybe the scene is exclusively a reflection on Mr McKee’s sexual orientation and subsequent moral perversion, or, more significantly, Nick’s willingness to go along with anything without reaffirming his own beliefs or desires, painting him as a fully submissive and detached narrator. Regardless, this relatively brief passage is undeniably dense in highly homoerotic content, portraying Nick largely as a closeted homosexual (or simply a heterosexual man who had a short and sexually intimate relationship with someone of the same gender, but this is far more difficult to believe in the surrounding circumstances), with this conveying an image of both and unreliable narrator and one who could conceivably be infatuated with the protagonist (Gatsby).

Nick’s relationship with Gatsby is vital throughout the novel, in both plot and in how Nick chooses and is capable of narrating a story focusing mainly upon the latter – one which is, evidently, biased invariably in his favour, even amidst ethical decay and his eventual death, which appears to influence Nick far more profoundly than the others, all of whom decide to abandon Gatsby by not attending his funeral as the book comes to a close. Despite the brevity of the period in which they interact and become extremely close, Nick organises the majority of Gatsby’s funeral, as previously mentioned, is loyal to him throughout with consistently lacking personal gain, offers him advice and support, and after his death, decides to write a memoir framing him in an overwhelmingly positive and complimentary manner, one which is likely far from the reality of his existence and impact upon others. Physically, Nick is evidently immensely attracted to Gatsby; when his love interest is given an unenthusiastic paragraph with phrases including ‘I enjoyed looking at her’ and emphasis upon her more masculine features and attributes (‘small-breasted,’ and ‘like a young cadet’), Gatsby’s intrigue is delivered impactfully, with several sentences dedicated to his smile alone, which is stated to have had ‘a quality of eternal reassurance in it.’ The last interaction between Nick and Jay consists of a long and emotional confession delivered by the latter, involving the true history of his origins, a story which he escapes explicitly mentioning, denies, and formulates lies to detract from right up until the end of the text, signifying that the bond established between both men may even be greater than the romanticised superficiality of Gatsby’s infatuation and fixation with Daisy. Whether or not Gatsby ever truly loved her is easy to speculate, with the most common theory being that he was simply enamoured with an idea that he had attached to her for his own sanity and aspirations – in a more uncommon homosexual reading of Gatsby, perhaps he ascribes an idea of the American Dream, wealth, success, and integration with the ‘old-money’ elite to her as a means of distracting from his real sexual and romantic interests, although this is admittedly far from substantiated. Nick finishes the dialogue with allegedly the ‘only compliment I (he) ever gave him,’ which is stated as written: ‘’They’re a rotten crowd,’ I shouted across the lawn. ‘You’re worth the whole damn bunch put together.’ Gatsby responds to this with his ‘radiant and understanding smile,’ one glimpse of a world in which Nick’s love for him may have not been so apparently unrequited, and potentially a revelation into the growing mutuality of what could have been a romance in different circumstances. Nick’s description of Gatsby and his actions is close to being perpetually complimentary, and usually resumes to this position quickly when it falters, so this reinforces his unreliability and a degree of obliviousness to his own feelings and emotions, whilst simultaneously demonstrating to the reader what is already salient at most levels of observance – that Nick views Gatsby and his worth above all others, including his friend of many years, Tom, his cousin, Daisy, and his romantic interest, Jordan. This level of attraction and love is usually reserved to forms outside of what is known to be platonic, suggesting that what Nick feels for Gatsby also transcends friendship. In Tom and Nick’s last interaction, Tom states that Gatsby ‘threw dust into your (Nick’s) eyes just like he did in Daisy’s,’ conveying that he might himself have deemed Nick and Gatsby’s relationship to be of a similar nature to Daisy and Gatsby’s. Gatsby ‘throwing dust’ into her eyes was a way of performing a romantic illusion that caused her to fall in love with him, implying that Nick also fell in love with Gatsby as he became similarly enchanted by his hope, dedication, and beauty, leading into his romanticised retelling of the man himself.

Ultimately, I personally believe that homoeroticism is definitely existing and, at times, prevalent within The Great Gatsby, and that above all, it is critical to Nick’s characterisation and generating an acceptable explanation of his behaviour and actions, as well as his identity as a character. Many of his attributes, such as his submission and tendency to behave as a bystander in his own life and social interactions, could be found as possessing origins in both a desire to fit in as a social chameleon and avoid extreme scrutiny under the masculine ideal, and also in the repressed identity exhibited by a vast number of sexual minorities in communities and historical contexts of heightened intolerance, where it would be necessary for non-heterosexual individuals to conform to norms and avoid confrontation. In Chapter 7, as Nick remembers that it is his birthday, he reflects on ‘the promise of a decade of loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know,’ a poignant evaluation to finish this essay with – adhering to his consistent writing style and internal monologue, Nick focuses on men here, not women, avoiding the topic of getting a wife and settling down into the rhythm of 1920s America, and instead accentuating his declining list of opportunities in romantic prospects, as well as concentrating on the ‘promise of loneliness’ that homosexuality undoubtedly was prior to at the very least decriminalisation. He will remain incapable of finding love and fulfilment in the sense that others can with relative ease, and he will continue to restrict his personal identity and expression for safety in the aftermath of the death of arguably his only true friend (and genuine romantic interest), with even Gatsby failing to treat him with equal respect and admiration. Some argue that the true tragedy of The Great Gatsby lies in the story of unrequited love detailed by the narrator, and I would not fully dispute this; this great American novel is, on the surface, a story surrounding the corruption of the American Dream, capitalism, disillusionment, and the ethically abhorrent upper classes, but more obscurely, it could potentially be interpreted as an enlightened representation of closeted sexual identity, genuine love (not concerning Daisy and Gatsby), and unreliability in narration.

#the great gatsby #nick carraway #jay gatsby #natsby #lgbt #gay #essay #english lit #the american dream #themes #homoeroticism #f scott fitzgerald #nick x gatsby

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h3l10tr0p3 · 5 years

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Headcanon: Deku, the Serial Shipper

Contains- Mentions of sexual activities, established relationship - Bakudeku; Crack pairings- TodoIna, JiroMomo, UraTsuyu, UraTenya, DenkiSero, Kirimina, platonic Kiribaku etc.

(Beware- Long post)

Jesus Christ, I just had this HC and now I gotta spill, otherwise I won't be able to sleep tonight. Here's another annoying Long Post for y'all)

Deku, as a Pro Hero and Katsuki's Duo Partner, has a pretty hectic life since the media are crazy bloodhounds, the villains are a pain in the ass, interacting with fans becomes exhausting at times, and the critics are demons wailing for his blood.

Yeah, very hectic. And on top of that, there's very little time to relax. Most of the days he sneaks some solace in the gym, if he can buy more time he likes to read and immerse himself in his notebooks and research. Fighting Katsuki to blow some steam is a last resort to shed off weeks of frustration and only reserved for off-days or desperate times - because something like that inevitably devolves into gratuitous rough sex or worse, day-long fuck-a-thon. Not that Deku doesn't enjoy it, he simply doesn't have the time to indulge and he knows Kacchan doesn't either, so they try to keep their hands off each other unless the occassion begs for much-needed violent release.

But sometimes, you just want instant relief. Sometimes Deku just wants to kick back and relax like a normal person, go on the internet, without everyone hounding him for a piece of his mind.

So he does.

Under Anonymity.

Et viola @allmight9000 comes alive on several media platforms including Tumblr and Twitter. At first, Deku masquerades around as a hardcore All Might fan fighting anyone who dares to diss the retired Symbol of Peace . But since his retirement, his popularity has gone cold, not many heated debates take place around him anymore and as sad as this makes Deku, he decides to discover new venues.

Now, Deku knows there's this dark void of fanfiction lurking on the net and there's no escape from it should he ever set foot into it. He is also aware of the dark things that beckon him from the sewers like Pennywise the Dancing Clown (eg. All Might/Endeavour, Hawks/Endeavour, All Might Bowl, All Might/ Hero Harem, All Might/Midnight, All Might/Aizawa/Present Mic and so on), things he should rightfully keep a safe distance from. But this is fucking Deku we are talking about- ofcourse he dares to dip his foot into the murk of fanfiction.

For science, he thinks, and takes the plunge.

It all goes downhill from there.

One day, Katsuki comes back from his shift to find Deku face-planted into the sofa, he hasn't eaten lunch, hasn't bathed and is claiming trauma, repeatedly insisting that he has sinned and he is going to hell for it, then he shakily holds up a 367k word fic of Villain Might/Endeavour. Katsuki has to slap him back to his senses. Later that night, Deku calls up Toshinori and asks him for forgiveness, when Toshinori asks him worriedly, 'For what?', Deku assures him he DOES NOT wanna know.

After obsessively going through various tropes and completing every Enemies to Lovers / Mutual Pining / Unrequited Love fic there is (and there is a lot, Deku hates himself every day for it), waiting torturous weeks for dead authors to rise from the ashes for a teeny tiny update, Deku finally gives up his small lake of unfulfilling All Might ships (because frankly it's hard to find a fic that suits his tastes and convincingly fleshes out a love story around a man who has pointedly avoided romance for the better part of his LIFE or a find a fic which is COMPLETE) and sets out into the sea of Ships.

Bad Idea.

Very VERY Bad Idea.

(We know it, he knows it. Katsuki is the only one who is blessedly oblivious because he chooses not to wade into Deku's mental shit and compromise his own sanity.)

Strangely, Deku has come to take an odd satisfaction of returning to fan mentality of shipping two people without restraints (rarely more than two)-it's simple, senseless, easy. It gives his head a break from all the overanalyzing it does and gives him a small dose of endorphins when he cant work out, eat out or fuck out the frustration. He was adverse to it first, since these are strangers trying to ship two random people (people he is friends with), and it was unsettling to find so many people shipping them when they've BARELY had any interaction in canon real life! What's the premise of shipping them at all? He just didn't find any allure to it back then. So he kept his reads under fluff and under mature ratings because he feels uncomfortable reading smut about his friends.

But Deku had a 'Oh my God they were ROOMMATES' moment when Jirou and Momo announce that they are dating to the U.A. Alumni, that too after reading a really fluffy Creati/Earphone Jack fic which accurately referenced their public sightings together and spun it into plot-points quite masterfully. ( the author did a real good job on it) And the most horrifying thing about the fic, Deku finds, is the fact that NO ONE, not even the AUTHOR knows how correct they were in their estimates! No one except Deku.

That realization shakes the foundations of Deku's beliefs and morality as he wonders how many fics out there , sfw or smut, requited or unrequited love, enemies to lovers or lovers to strangers, fluff or smut have come so so close to the truth, been so damn close - like an alternate course of their love-story? and WHY IS NO ONE GIVING IT MORE KUDOS?

This is how Deku ends up being the most irredeemable Shipper of the universe- with a mission in hand:

To curate proof of all valid ships and to supply aforesaid proof of it to the world (as subtly as he can of course, so as to not compromise his own identity or the privacy of the Shipped.)

He begins to scour through the net for paparazzi photos, indulges in gossip, pries out information of who is dating whom from his Hero contacts, authenticates it, creates folders and subfolders of photographic 'proof' (they are just teasers really) and whenever anyone writes a fic that comes anywhere close to the real thing he makes sure to tag them in his tumblr/twitter post with photos which basically pour gasoline over their fiery passion to continue dreaming and writing fics around those Ships. Like:

You wrote a fic of Fluffy Iron Fist x Real Steel? Here you go- an obscure pic of them leaving her apartment together

Uravity x Ingenium and Uravity x Froppy? A love triangle that could possibly end in heartbreak?!! Damn, sistah, who knows? (She's confused too, imho) So here you go- Uravity getting tipsy with Froppy and Uravity snuggling to Ingenium under the rain.

One-shot of Chargebolt x Cellophane getting frisky in an alley? Honey, I gotchu. Here's a pic of them arriving at a villain scene together with dishevelled clothes.

All Might x Endeavour Slow Burn? My dear friend- here's a picture of the Symbol of peace roasting marshmallows with Shouto on flaming Endeavour merch. Please don't make me block you.

All Might x Midnight? Here's a pic of my mom, me and my Dad AllMight. Midnight, Who binch?

Celsius (Shouto) x Gale Force Stripper AU? Oh, hey, look I'm totally that one lucky guy who was in the right place at the right time, okay? I dont know these guys personally, OKAY? Not. At. All. But I have some Opinions™ about your fic? and pics to support it. Just wanna show you that maybe...i mean...MAAYYYYYYBEEEE...the stripper is Galeforce, not Celsius? Yeah? Don't worry though, You're doing good. Love the slow build, keep up the good work!

Deku becomes a sensational fic-writer-enabler and often gives inspiration to writers who are looking to write for a new fandom. Deku's got their backs.

He sinks so deep into this Shipping business that one day Katsuki catches wind of it. It was becoming painful to keep ignoring Deku's descent into madness. Katsuki was okay with it as long as the nerd did his job well and fucked him even better (which Katsuki will never admit to enjoying, even at gun point. Pull the trigger, you coward). So, yeah, Katsuki could have accepted all of Deku's weird stalkerish behaviours (even if they weren't fixated on him all the time anymore and the 'Kacchan, sugoi!' comments had plummeted drastically....who needs the shitnerd to validate his worth, right?! Right...it didn't make him pissed AT ALL. because admitting that would mean he enjoyed it, WHICH HE DID NOT, MIND YOU)

What Katsuki couldn't accept was Deku accidentally using his official Hero twitter handle to post a very platonic (but in the eyes of rabid fans- borderline homoerotic) pictures of him and Eijirou and posted it as #Ground_Riot. The fucking flood of Zeku-haters and pro-GroundRioters had the comments section on FIRE. The post goes VIRAL.

Deku, fucking DEKU, the man who is secretly ENGAGED to him, is promoting GroundRiot like NO ONE's business and HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT HE DID WRONG.

Katsuki finds Deku happily puttering around their shared apartment completely oblivious to the PR hell that has been licking at his heels. He immediately attacks Deku's account and is completely gobsmacked. Lo and fucking behold- every fifth picture in his blog is fucking GROUND RIOT.

Not just that, apparently, THIS MAN, his fucking FIANCE, is not only a renowned peacemaker in inane Ship wars, but is hailed as a Soothsayer of Ships for always correctly prophecizing "Ships that will Sail into the fucking Sunset', he is basically some minor god in the Hero fandom who is extorting excitement out of fic writers and fans alike so that 'the crime of incomplete fics' can be eradicated once and for all. And Deku's fucking commited to it.

(perhaps more commited to Ground Riot than his own betrothal because there isn't A SINGLE POST of ZEKU on his blog)

There's even a post where he answers an ask from anonymous. The question: "Are you also anti-Zeku? I have never seen you post anything related to that ship. Is it because you think it won't Sail?" And Deku answers shortly how he isn't explicitly Anti-Zeku, but doesn't like the idea of reading fanfics of that ship. He clearly witholds his opinion if the ship will sail or not. Katsuki also finds the chat which started all this shit.

Chat-

Hey! @allmight9000. I wanted to write a GroundRiot fic? Could you give me some inspiration?

Aww, sure! It's my favourite Ship tbh. I love GroundRiot. I have a whole gigabyte of inspirations in my laptop. I'll send you some when I get back home, okay?

Yup!!! I am actually a hardcore Zeku fan. But recently my friends got me into Ground Riot and I am addicted!! But Zeku will always have a special place in my heart <3

I see. :)

Do you wanna try it out? I know you mentioned you don't like it. But I know some REALLY good fics.

No thank you ^_^ I make it a point to not read those fics. I just can't visualize it working, you know?

Oh...np. Each to their own. But I really hope one day you try reading some if you can?

I don't think so ...😅...uh...but..Any preferences for your inspiration though? or genre youre interested in?

Fluffff!!

Haha, okay! Look out for the new post on my twitter!

YASSS!! Love ya!

You too!

Katsuki sees red, he's about to flip his shit when he decides to give Deku one LAST fucking chance to explain WHY THE FUCK is he promoting Ground Riot when he should be shipping Zeku and demands of him if he really wants their Fucking Ship To Sail Or Not.

Deku gets defensive and says of course he does. Katsuki asks why he has been trying to push him onto Eijirou all this time if he wasnt serious about it. Deku doesnt want to answer. Then Katsuki gets fruatrated and asks WHY the fuck didnt he post Zeku.

"Because I don't want to support it"

"We are literally fucking engaged, you moron. What the FUCK do you mean you don't support it?!"

"I support Us, Kacchan! I just don't wanna support Zeku-shippers! Those two things are different!"

"WHy dont you wanna support them?! tHere is No Difference!"

"There is! I am not obligated to do anything for you. But if I admit to shipping Zeku out loud to the shippers, then I'm obligated to post pictures of us and I know that if I start posting that then my blog will literally be a flood of just Us all over!!"

"What is WRONG with that?!!"

"WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE ENGAGED IN SECRET! NO ONE IS SUPPOSED TO KNOW! you said it yourself! That you don't like the useless yapping of reporters about your love-life where it isn't their business!"

"YEAH? WELL FUCK THAT!"

And Katsuki whips out his phone, takes a selfie of french kissing the hell out of Deku and immediately posts in on his twitter. Deku has hardly reeled back from that intense kiss when he realizes what Katsuki has done and he practically explodes in shame.

"Kacchan!! Our secret!"

"Your fucking fault, Deku. If I have to deal with the shitty extras at all, it better be for the right Ship, you dumbass. I'll punt you straight to China if I hear Ground Riot from your mouth ever again...capiche?"

"But I like Ground Riot...It's a valid ship, Kacchan. You cant diss on it just like that. It has wonderful scope, and the fluff in this ship is AMAZING. I think I have a soft spot for Uke!GZ and Soft!GZ now... and it is a really mutually productive ship unlike- hrmff!", Katsuki shuts him up with a smack to his mouth and sheds his shirt.

"Shut your mouth and strip, shitnerd. I'll fuck the Ground Riot out of you. Also, let's make this fucking clear that if you mention ANYTHING that goes anywhere near Eijirou's dick,ass, balls or mouth", Katsuki shivers, "then I'll wreck your dick, ass, balls and mouth. Remember that. Now STRIP"

"But what about platonically? That's a solid ship, right? Right, Kacchan? Also It doesn't mention Eijirou's- fuck!!!"

Deku gets wrecked thoroughly.

(Let's observe one moment of silence for his Shipping ass 🙏)

(r.i.p. Deku)

Katsuki later asks him why Deku doesn't read Zeku fics either, cause pretending to not like it to weasel out of obligation is fine, but it doesn't explain why he refuses fo read any either.

"A fic, especially the ones that I like, always are these perfect little stories which always have a happy ending. Can't help it, I'm weak to it, Kacchan- it's why I read fics at all, you know? For the rush of happiness and feels! It's always written with the intention that it will be perfect! And it is. But it doesn't come close to the real thing. There can be fics out there that come really close to what we really have though - but I refuse to accept that any fic could be better than the imperfectly perfect things I have with you, Kacchan. No matter what anyone insists, what I have with you is perfect to me. You are perfect to me. And that's all that matters."

Katsuki calls him an incorrigible sap and turns away to hide a violent flush that turns him red like a stop sign.

Omake:

Katsuki's #Zeku goes Viral too. But at this point no one understands what is going on or WHY. Because GZ appears to be a Zeku shipper when Deku is a GroundRiot shipper. Confusion abounds. Zac Efron memes agonize over Both ships, Captain America Japan Civil War Memes make a comeback. And for some reason, Deku keeps posting Ground Riot afterwards too and everytime he does, the next day he is seen limping.

"Did you have a hardtime with Zero-san at training yesterday?"

Before Deku can answer the one who asks him that, Eijirou comes up, winks and answers in his stead, "Very hard", and runs away to Mina's side before Deku has a shame-filled meltdown.

(The Ground Riot thing stops only when Mina and Eijirou get finally married.)

#bakudeku #katsudeku #katsuki x izuku #ktdk #bkdk #deku the shipper #humour #social media shenanigans #headcanon #fic idea #fanfic idea #too many headcanons #holy crap this was such a shit hc #deku ships kiribaku

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doocentral · 5 years

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“SCOOBY-DOO! AND THE CURSE OF THE 13TH GHOST” - MY SPOILER REVIEW

SPOILERS AHEAD -- I was so so SO excited for the "Scooby-Doo! And the Curse of the 13th Ghost" movie that came out on DVD and digital yesterday. I picked it up after work and went home to watch it almost immediately. My excitement and nostalgia for this movie was something I hadn't felt for a Scooby-Doo movie in a while. And...I finished it disappointed on a few levels... The entire concept for this movie was phenomenal: Let's take a 34-year old plot hole created from an obscure era of Scooby-Doo and resolve it with an awesome DTV movie in the 50th year of the franchise's life. But instead what we got was: Let's take a 34-year old plot hole created from an obscure era of Scooby-Doo and attempt to resolve it by writing out characters, rationalizing the supernatural aspects of the story, and creating even MORE plot holes.

The movie had a great set-up and was going well for probably the first half of the movie. I'll discuss real quick what I personally like about this movie before going into what I didn't: 1) I thoroughly enjoyed the backstory of the Chest of Demons (COD) and learning about how Vincent VanGhoul himself had to capture the 13 ghosts (I'm going to refer to them as The 13 from this point forward) before Scooby and Shaggy ever released them in the original series. I think that's great character development, storytelling, and additional information that was lacking in the original series. I always had a hunch that Vincent was responsible for creating the COD and capturing The 13 in the first place, when really he didn't actually create the COD but rather discovered it and made the same mistake Scooby and Shaggy made. 2) I think that the design of Asmodeus (the 13th ghost that was never captured) was fantastic. His head shape is reminiscent of the COD itself as well as the collective entity of The 13 that we see escape in the first episode of "The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo". I *think* Asmodeus is supposed to be considered the first being to ever enter the COD, and him supposedly being the most powerful of The 13 makes him an interesting antagonist for the group. Especially when it's learned that he is actually Vincent VanGhoul's ancestor, adding to the world-building and justifying further Vincent's self-appointed responsibility to recapture The 13. His name is also interesting since “Asmodeus” is actually a being believed to be the “king of demons” as he is also stated to be in this movie. Just an interesting tie-in to real mythology that the other twelve ghosts of the chest lack.

3) Based on elements of the original series, I enjoyed the movie's occasional call-backs. I think bringing Flim-Flam back was a good choice and having him grow up a little but maintain the same personality was delightful (despite him not being a favorite character of mine AT ALL). The return of the Red Mystery Machine was great too. The COD was modernized in style (as was the Red Mystery Machine) but it still looked menacing. 4) The humor was for the most-part great. I think the joke of older people being scared of teenagers was great, especially when it suddenly and unexpectedly was said again by a different character. Other instances of humor I enjoyed were when Scooby and Shaggy were roleplaying as flight attendants/plane pilots or when Flim-Flam commented on Daphne's hair and Shaggy's green shirt (for those who don't know, Shaggy wore a red shirt in the original series).

Now for the things I took issues with... 1) I DESPISE how the lore and threat of Asmodeus was undone by the character we see throughout the movie just being a man in a costume. The whole point of this movie was to revive the supernatural storyline of "The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo" and finally finish the gang's quest. The ghost turning out to be a man in a mask ruined the story and I think this should be borderline false-advertising (not really but still!). I really wanted to see the characters struggle to face off with the most powerful ghost among The 13, who again are the most powerful supernatural entities the world has ever known! I would have LOVED to see them be brutally scared and terrified of this ghost because of who he is, and I also wanted to see someone maybe be forced or hypnotized or tricked into opening the COD again. If the real COD had been opened again it could've made the whole situation more dire. This would've made the ending of the movie really dramatic; watching the gang and Vincent and Flim-Flam work together to recapture the twelve ghosts inside the COD as well as the most powerful of The 13 as a whole would have been fantastic. I can only imagine the explosive scene and visuals we would've gotten if this were the case. I know I can't fault the movie for not going this route too much, but the fact it didn't and further downplayed the supernatural characteristics of the original show and Asmodeus left a bad taste in my mouth. 2) The absence of Scrappy-Doo was a debated topic for this movie since it was initially announced. Everyone speculated if he would make an appearance, be referenced to, or the movie just not acknowledge his existence at all. I'll admit, the "What's a Scrappy?" joke from Velma did get a laugh out of me but I almost would've rather had the movie ignore the problem altogether. My IDEAL outcome of this dilemma would just be for Warner Bros. to swallow their pride and include Scrappy in the movie. He was a prominent and regular character of "The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo" so reviving the storyline for a movie doesn't make sense without him there. I don't know if the joke was supposed to satirize the franchise's willingness to ignore the existence of this character but it just doesn't make sense story-wise. It skews continuity (which is my next point) and confuses fans of the series. Scrappy isn't an entirely untouchable or irredeemable character either; he has become a prominent and likable character in the "Scooby Apocalypse" comic book series. In fact he's one of the better characters in that comic series because of his character development and instilled morals. Why couldn't Warner Bros. just put in the work and make the character a functional and non-detrimental element of this movie? People hated Flim-Flam a lot more than they hated Scrappy, and even he got to come back. (But I also acknowledge they didn’t bring back Weerd and Bogel either).

3) This movie presents so many issues in terms of continuity. It's not the movie's sole fault; I don't think Scooby-Doo and continuity are compatible to begin with. But here's a couple issues with continuity I think need to be addressed if this movie is supposed to be a continuation of the original series: a) The Sheriff at the beginning of the movie says that the gang "is almost 18 now" which means that they are still teenagers. I'm pretty sure that Daphne and Shaggy were supposed to be portrayed as older versions of themselves (maybe early 20's) in "The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo”. They were flying planes and traveling all over the world. And if time has truly passed between "The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo" and this movie, that would mean Daphne and Shaggy were probably like, 15 or 16, when they went in search of The 13 in the first place. I wish they would stop calling them teenagers in stories where it doesn't make sense AT ALL for them to be teenagers. Kids are able to enjoy Scooby-Doo just as much regardless of the gang's age because they just want to watch a talking dog be scared by ghosts and monsters. They're not watching because they personally identify with the gang since the gang are teenagers. The only time their age was maybe at all important was in "A Pup Named Scooby-Doo" because the very premise was that the gang were kids. Why do they have to be teenagers in this movie? The answer is, there is no reason. WB just insists they're still teenagers. b) Before I say this, I just want to acknowledge that "Scooby-Doo! Mystery Incorporated" is supposed to be an alternate universe to the "main continuity" (if that even exists) of Scooby-Doo. So it's interesting to see that both that series and this movie make reference to "The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo", yet "Scooby-Doo! Mystery Incorporated" actually acknowledged the existence of Scrappy along with Flim-Flam. The same excuse was used that Fred wasn't in the original cartoon because he was at summer camp, however Flim-Flam in the "Scooby-Doo! Mystery Incorporated" timeline is apparently serving 25 years to life for his con-artistry. This isn't something I'm mad about for this movie, just thought it was something that should be said since the movie decided to write-out Scrappy.

c) Just...don’t get me started on the continuity dumpster-fire that is the garage sale scene...it’s nostalgic but just...please don’t...

d) After the gang discovers the crystal ball in the garage sale, Daphne explains a lot of the backstory to Fred and Velma in her bedroom. At one point, she throws an outfit on Fred, and when we see it land on Fred we can ALSO see a picture frame on her nightstand showing the whole gang unmasking the Moat Monster. For those who may not remember, the Moat Monster is the green villain in the flashback at the beginning of "Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island". I'm not saying that this case couldn't have been solved between the events of "The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo" and this movie; the case was a flashback in "Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island". But if this movie is trying to say that it takes place in the same continuity as "Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island", how can the gang be so baffled by the existence of real zombies and cat creatures when they, or at least Scooby, Shaggy, and Daphne, have encountered THE 13 MOST TERRIFYING GHOSTS ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH??? You could say that the events of "Zombie Island" don't ultimately happen in this timeline, which is fine, but then why reference that movie at all?

4) Velma and Fred are very frustrating characters in this movie. I'll start with Fred here though. While I like the group-dynamic shifting with Daphne taking on leadership in their mission and making Fred step-aside, I don't like that they focused Fred's story-arc on him trying to find his place in the group. It's like the movie is trying to make us feel sorry for a man because a woman is stepping up for once. I liked watching Daphne take charge and show Fred that she, as well as Scooby and Shaggy, are able to handle things without his leadership. I have no sympathy for Fred in this movie, and when he reveals he actually went to cheerleading camp when he was gone in the original series? He instantly becomes 100% more frustrating than he already has been, Velma on the other hand becomes exhausting. After the crystal ball is discovered, EVERY SINGLE LINE OF DIALOGUE she has is devoted to her denial or skepticism in the supernatural. Yes, Velma would be the one to question the existence of real ghosts between her and Fred (this was central to her story-arc in "Scooby-Doo! Frankencreepy"). But when that's literally the only thing she has going on, Velma just becomes a flat, uninteresting, and annoying character. Especially when we, the viewer, know for a fact that the ghosts in the original show were real. And then her rationalization of the other twelve ghosts being hallucinations that Shaggy, Scooby, and Daphne experienced at the high-altitude of the Himalayas was maddening. I don't know if Warner Bros. was trying to undo the existence of the supernatural in this timeline of Scooby-Doo or not, but it doesn't make sense anyway because in the show, the gang wasn't in the Himalayas the whole time. They opened the COD in the temple and then traveled all over the world to pursue them. So Velma's explanation of this is ultimately as weak as wet toilet paper. And then her rationale is undermined by her reluctance to open the COD when they are boarding the plane at the end of the movie. All around Velma is my LEAST favorite thing about this movie.

5) People have mentioned that there were potentially only 11 ghosts captured in the original series since one episode they didn't explicitly capture a new ghost but rather recaptured the four ghosts they had already captured. I just want to believe the Cyclone Ghost that appeared in that episode (which to some is actually an amalgamation of those four ghosts) is really just another one of The 13. That way we don't end up needing a "Scooby-Doo! And the Curse of the 12th Ghost". But I'm personally very fine with it if you disagree with me on this. 6) I don't know if it was or not, but I'm unsure if Scooby and Shaggy's gag with Asmodeus in the temple pretending to be meditating monks(?) was appropriate. Just a minor comment I wanted to throw out there since they decided to somewhat identify a specific culture in the setting of this movie. 7) This movie doesn't explain the ending well whatsoever. The lack of clarity I had after Asmodeus was unmasked was painful. And the plot-holes I found and questions I have are endless. Where has Mortifer been this whole time since he disappeared when he and Vincent finished capturing The 13 the first time? Is he immortal like Vincent or did he become immortal when the ghosts attacked him? What is his motivation to reopen the COD? Why would he want to reopen the COD when he's SIMULTANEOUSLY trying to sell it on the black market for being a priceless supernatural artifact? The COD is supposed to be an obscure and low-key artifact, so why would it even have value on the black market and how much would it even be worth? Would it's worth vary if it still contained The 13? If Asmodeus was really a disguise and not a real ghost, why couldn't Vincent use his magic powers? Why is there a secret FBI agent in this movie? Why does the FBI know anything about the COD? How could the FBI have even known that the gang might have the COD at the beginning of the movie? Did Velma actually misread the Sanskrit in the book, and did the REAL Asmodeus actually move on from the mortal realm? Is it even safe for Asmodeus to still be allowed out of the COD? What was the real Asmodeus protecting Vincent from this whole time, was it Mortifer? How was the real Asmodeus able to conceal himself from Vincent's and the gang's radar in the original show if he was apparently watching over Vincent in an attempt to "protect him"? Why was Daphne, Shaggy, and Scooby so okay with just abandoning the mission when they went back to school that year? Did they ever try to check up with Vincent to see if he managed to capture the 13th ghost? How did the gang just not know at all that Daphne had the Red Mystery Machine just chilling in the garage? Why does she have it if she evidently never drives it? Did Mortifer have actual magical powers or was he just a silly illusionist? If he isn't actually magical, then how was he able to drive that ghost car throughout the movie without being inside it? WHAT EVEN WAS THE CURSE OF THE 13TH GHOST?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! --- I could probably go on and on about my thoughts on this movie but these are what I wanted to talk about and mention since this movie was highly anticipated. I think it fails to satisfy what fans wanted out of its attempt to bring closure to "The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo". "The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo" is an obscure and borderline black sheep of the Scooby-Doo franchise so it was going to be really cool to see an "attempt" at resolving the unfinished story. I just think this movie could've done better and ultimately leaves a lot to be desired. I’m giving this movie a neutral 5/10.

(Understand this review is independent of That Groovy Scoobcast)

What are your thoughts? Do you agree with my opinions or disagree? Did you have other questions that I didn't mention already? Or any plot holes I overlooked? I’d love to hear what you have to say.

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psyched2b · 6 years

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Anything But Easy (Steve Rogers x Reader)

A/N: Here’s my (second) submission for Kari’s 1K MCU Writing Challenge. Thank you @until-theend-oftheline for letting me participate!

This story would not be what it is without my starshine, @mermaidxatxheart . Thank you for putting up with my crazy behind. You’re the bomb diggity.

P.S. Feedback is always welcomed and sincerely appreciated! (I don’t bite)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Humor, Swearing (quite a bit), People are Shot, Descriptions of the aftermath (nothing too graphic) and a potentially happy ending.

PROMPT: “Eat me! Oh no wait… you actually might!”!”

It was supposed to be easy.

In and out, Bucky had said. Grab the asset, he has decent protection, but nothing you and Steve can’t handle, nothing you haven’t handled in the past. He’s a scientist, he knows things, things on how to help Bucky.

“I would go myself, but...”

“Your egg is cracked,” you surmise, looking up from the information packet he had given you, giving him a grin.

He stares at you for a full second before he breaks out into laughter and gives you a chuck under the chin. “I think scrambled is a more apt description.” He grins. “You got this, Y/N,” he says confidently.

“Oh, I know. I’m perfect. I just wish it didn’t have to be with Mr. Perfect over there.” You jerk your chin in the direction of Steve before you glare resentfully at him.

Bucky notices the hostile stare. “He means well.” he tries, looking over to where his best friend is looking over new weapons with Natasha, debating on which would be most beneficial for his upcoming mission. “He just wants to make sure you’re protected. He’s...protective like that.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’d be thrilled the moment I protect myself right off a fucking cliff.”

Bucky snorts at your joke. “Maybe. Who knows what goes on in his head?” He shrugs one massive shoulder.

I do, and it has nothing to do with protecting myself and everything to do with the fact that we broke up violently

This is the exact opposite of easy.

The fucking scientist heard you were fucking coming and upped his guard count. Instead of the average twenty ‘roid heads, he has at least a hundred. And while both you and Captain America are very good, the two of you alone are not nearly that good.

Unfortunately, you had to retreat.

Steve hisses as he presses a hand to his leg. A stupid ricochet bullet had lodged itself in his leg ten minutes ago and if you don’t get it cleaned out, it’s going to be bad.

“In here.” He mutters, nudging you to an abandoned building.

You help him inside, your momentary dislike for each other forgotten. “If I ever see Bucky again, I’m going to rip his metal fucking arm off and shove it so far up his ass, he’ll be able to scratch his brain.” You huff. “You weigh a ton.”

“You never used to complain.” He tries for joking.

You shoot him a withering look before shoving him roughly into the room. Quickly taking in your surroundings, you conclude that this will have to do. Everything is covered in dust and cobwebs, but with a limited amount of time to get the bullet out before he heals over it, you don’t have much of a choice.

You set Steve down into an old wooden chair that creaks under his weight. For a moment, you're worried that it's going to give away underneath his muscular ass, but is pleased when it seems to settle.

“This is going to hurt,” you warn, easing the fabric away from the bullet wound.

Steve manages to snort. “Try not to enjoy it too much.”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you dig your finger into the open injury, digging around to the bullet. To Steve’s credit, he doesn’t so much as make a sound. But a quick look at his face and you see his eyes are squeezed shut, head is thrown back and jaw clenched tight. Not wanting to get distracted by how beautiful the jerk is, you make quick work of pulling the bullet from his leg.

“There, all done.”

He looks down at you and you can still see the pain behind his eyes. “Thanks.”

Not having time to appreciate his rare kind side, you stand up, wiping the blood off on your pants. “Yeah, well, can you get up? We need to get out of here soon if we want to make it out alive.”

“I’m good.”

“Good.”

It was almost too easy.

You two make your way around the house, hugging close to the outside walls. Peaking your head out, you check to see if there’s anyone around standing between you and the underground tunnel that will lead you home.

“We’re clear,” you decide, flicking a quick glance at Steve to make sure he's ready.

He gives you a nod, “Proceed.”

Taking off, you try to stick to the shadows, heading for the entrance.

You both manage to make it in without being caught and you feel just a tiny bit of stress lift off your shoulders.

Steve doesn’t hesitate to keep walking and you follow him into poorly lit, smelly ass tunnel.

“Smells like someone died down here,” you comment in a casual tone, not liking the silence.

He turns to give you a glare but before he can respond, there is a shout that comes from behind you.

“HALT.”

“Halt?” you question, face screwing up in confusion. “Who the fuck says halt?”

Steve just shakes his head at you before bounding over to the man that followed you into the tunnel. You assess the scene to see if there are others and you're surprised to find that the man is alone in his adventures.

The man pulls out a gun and before you could react, Steve grabs his wrist and there's a loud “pop” that echoes off the walls and you find yourself hitting the wall behind you.

Your pulse is thumping loudly in your ears. You can feel your heart fluttering heavily in your chest. Your thoughts feel sluggish as you try to process what just happened.

You look down the front of your shirt and you search for what can be making you feel so slow. You spot red seeping out from your side and you know you’re screwed, muttering an “Oh shit,” under your breath between clenched teeth.

“This puts a fucking damper on my day. Steve?” you call for the Captain. He’s currently fighting hand to handing with the jackass who had shot you. “I really need your help.”

“I’m a little fucking busy,” you hear him hiss out, grunting as he thrust his shield at the head of the asshole who thought he could hold his own against the Captain America.

You roll your eyes, letting out an exasperated huff before putting more force behind your voice. “There is a problem! So get your spangly ass back here!”

Steve Rogers hates being referenced as anything spangly and knows you're serious when you call to him like that. He risks a look over his shoulder to see what could possibly be so important. You can see the surprise in his eyes when he sees you sag heavily against the wall, both hands covering your side, oozing blood. Feeling a surge of energy, he sends a powerful uppercut hit to the man in front of him, knocking him out cold. With a quick move, Steve cuffs the man's hands and feet together, ensuring that he would be temporarily incapacitated, making time for him and Y/N to get away.

“If you’re done playing handsy with that douche, I could really use your help,” you call out to him, tensing your entire body, trying to find relief from the pain that starts to blossom from the wound.

Steve is already heading back to where you are. “Now’s not the best time to be taking a break, Y/N,” he says in a rough voice, schooling a hard expression covering his face.

“Because I just love hanging out on the floor that’s covered in literal shit,” you shoot back sarcastically. “How about you stop with the condescending and unnecessary comments for once and tell me how bad this looks.”

Removing your hand from the wound, Steve crouches down in front of you to get a better look. You know it has to have been bad based on how his expression softens to a look of concern. He prods gently at it, causing more blood to ooze out. If he notices your flinch, he doesn’t say anything. Placing a hand on the back of your shoulder to guide you forward, he checks to see if there's an exit wound.

From the sigh of relief, you know that it's a through and through. That means he isn’t going to have to dig out a bullet. It also means that he's going to have to find a way to pack the wound to stop further bleeding until you can get back to the compound to make sure there isn’t any damage to anything important.

Steve reaches into a pocket on his pants and pulls out a pack that contained fine white powder. Keeping a hand on your shoulder to hold you against the wall, he rips the packet open with his teeth and without warning, pours the white powder directly on your wound.

“That FUCKING HURTS,” you howl, trying to squirm away from the offending powder. Logically, you know that this shit is helping to stop bleeding temporarily, expanding on contact with the blood to fill the wound. But GOD DAMN if it doesn’t hurt like a bitch.

Steve growls at you and presses more firmly to hold you still, trying to give the powder a chance to do its job. “Well, maybe if you would stop squirming around like a toddler and let the powder do its fucking job, it would be over sooner and won’t hurt any longer.”

You want to bang your head into the ground to knock yourself out to avoid being lectured from Captain fucking America but quickly decide against that as you don’t want to cause more trauma to your body and give Steve the satisfaction of not being able to handle yourself properly. “Fucking thanks, Dad,” you sneer out instead. Your hand shoots out to grip his shoulder, fingers digging into the thick material as you squeeze as hard as you can. The pain is unbearable and you want nothing more than to scream like a banshee, but given the circumstances, you have to look for alternative ways to relieve the tension. It feels like your side is on fire, shots of pain radiating out from the wound. The powder feels like salt and pop rocks have been poured on an open injury as it fizzles around, filling in the gaps. How is it that this hurt more than the bullet actually fucking going through your side? What the fuck is this shit?

The soldier winces at your comment. He knows that you hate it when he lectures you, but he also knows it’s better that way. He pokes around the wound once more to see if it's fully packed, not wanting to make eye contact. “You should be able to just walk it off. It’s not that serious.” He freezes, knowing once the words pass through his lips that you’re going to get heated, but there's no taking them back now.

Your face flushes red and you feel a white heat run up your spine, snapping “Not all of us can fucking walk off a fucking bullet wound Mr. I-heal-in-two-shakes-of-a-leg.” Goddamn super soldiers and their stupid ability to heal instantaneously. Obviously, this dickhead motherfucker takes that gift for granted. Ungrateful asswipe cockmuppet.

“Maybe if you were more mentally-disciplined-”

You cut Steve off by shoving him away. He falls straight on his ass and gives you a look of surprise. Not giving him a chance to speak, you struggle to stand up, using the wall as leverage and wag a finger at him. “Are you for real? Are you seriously going to tell me that my fucking bullet wound isn’t debilitating? That some ‘woo-saa’s’ and ‘namaste’s’ are going to make this hurt any less? Are you fucking serious?” You can’t believe the words that are coming out of this asshole's mouth. Suddenly, awkwardly, you feel yourself longing for the time when you two could actually have a conversation without getting on each other's nerves.

“I got a bullet in my leg and you don’t see me complaining.”

“EAT ME!” you yell, pulling at your hair in frustration. Realizing what you just say, you stop and give a thoughtful look, cocking your head to the side. “Oh no, wait...you actually MIGHT.” Or at least, you wish he would. With an angry sigh, you gesture sharply to his leg where he had taken a bullet, but the skin's already healed over, leaving a nasty looking bruise in its place. “Are you talking about the wound that’s already completely healed? Did you miss the part where I said that not all of -”

You're cut off by Steve surging forward, his lips forcefully meeting yours in a clash of skin and teeth. Your lips move together in an achingly familiar way. It's forceful and full of anger and tension...it's beautiful.

Then the realization of who you're kissing hits you like a freight train and you pull back with a gasp. The next thing you do was pure instinct.

You punch Steve Rogers right in his perfect teeth.

The punch is perfectly executed. But the force behind it causes you to pull powder that had solidified in your injury, making you gasp out in pain, knees buckling underneath you as you fall to the ground once again.

Glancing at Steve, you notice that you managed to split his lip, but otherwise seems fine.

He's holding his jaw in his hand, moving it back and forth with a dazed expression. He can't believe that you just hit him.

The pain catches up to you and you feel the adrenaline rush through your heart. “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?” you scream, clutching your throbbing hand to your chest. So much for not inflicting any more trauma to your body.

Steve looks surprised. “WHY DID YOU PUNCH ME?” he yells back. Then his gaze falls to your hand that you're nursing and his gaze falls into one of panic. “Holy shit, where did you learn to punch like that?”

You, you asshole, you think bitterly to yourself, but otherwise, ignore his question. “Why the fuck you would think that now was the time to fucking lay one on me?” You cry out in a hysterical voice, trying to come down from the adrenaline high. If there was any doubt before, you're now positive that Steve Rogers had a loose bolt or two in his head.

Steve takes the silent route, choosing not to answer. It would just complicate things.

You give him a hard glare, realizing that he's going to ignore your question. Letting out a huff, you hold your arms out to him. “Well, I certainly won’t be walking out of here. Guess you get to carry me, you lucky duck.”

This mission had been anything but easy.

Steve feels like he has impossibly aged fifty years.

Y/N and he manage to make it back to the compound, but as soon as the jet lands, she passes out and is rushed into emergency surgery.

Five hours of waiting and finally someone comes out to give an update.

The whole team is gathered, anxious to see what the outcome of the surgery would be.

“She has a perforated bowel,” the medical professional says in an even, detached tone. “We had to clear out the binder that was placed. Once that was clear, the tear in the bowel expanded and toxins entered the body causing her to go into septic shock. It has been touch and go. We managed to get her stable and repair the tear. However, we placed her in a medically induced coma to give her mind and body time to recover without outside stressors. The next 24 hours will be critical for her. If she makes it past the next 24 hours, she will have a considerably greater chance of making a full recovery.”

The silence in the room is heavy as everyone absorbs the information.

Thor steps forward, glancing at Steve to see what his reaction is. Thor knows that there's a lot of tension between Y/N and the Captain, but he also knows that the Captain cares deeply for those he calls his own. Although, he's a little surprised to see how crushed the Captain looks at the news. He looks as if his whole world has begun to shatter and Thor sympathizes with that. There's obviously more going on that he's not aware of. Shuffling towards his friend, he places a heavy hand on his shoulder in an offer of support before addressing the medical personnel.

“Are we able to visit with Lady Y/N?”

Watching her was not easy.

Only two people at a time are allowed to visit with the unconscious Avenger. Tony and Natasha are the first to go in, not even asking if anyone wants to visit first. This is their friend, their family.

Two by two, everyone filters in and out of the small room.

Steve is the last one to enter and he can feel his stomach drop when his eyes land on your body. You're laying in the small hospital bed covered in tubes and wires. Your usually tan complexion now matches that of the white sheet that covers your body. He can hear the hiss of the ventilator as he watches the machine force air in and out of your lungs. There's a steady beeping coming from the screen on your right that's monitoring your heart rate and oxygen stats. You're covered in bruises. Not that that's anything new. Anytime anyone comes back from a mission, they're likely to be covered in black and blue. But this time, it makes your situation look worse.

Steve feels like an asshole for the words that were exchanged between the two of you when you were down in the sewers. He feels lower than dirt for having implied that you should have just been able to walk this off. Sure, he didn’t mean the words he said, but that doesn’t make the guilt any less.

He takes a seat by your side. He wants nothing more than to reach out and take your hand in his, but he knows that if you were awake, you wouldn’t appreciate it and would likely punch him again. Instead, he just hangs his head in shame, shoulders slumped.

“I can see that you’re beating yourself up over this.”

Steve slowly looks up from the floor to see his best friend standing in the doorway looking particularly unimpressed.

Bucky is standing in a defensive position, feet shoulder length apart, arms crossed against his chest and a deep scowl on his face. He looks ready to disembowel someone.

“Had I been more aware of our surroundings, I would have known the guy was there-”

“Stop,” Bucky says, stepping into the room and taking a seat opposite of Steve at Y/N’s side. “I don’t want to hear that BS. I think it’s time you admit what’s really going on here.”

Steve gives his friend a confused look, pretending to not have any idea what he's talking about.

Bucky scoffs, rolling his eyes and leans back in his seat, giving Steve a mildly amused look. “I honestly don’t know who’s the bigger idiot in this room. You or Y/N.” He pauses for a moment, rubbing his flesh hand over his jaw, a thoughtful look on his face. “You’re stupid for thinking that I of all people wouldn't know what was going on between the two of you. Obviously, you were head over heels for each other. She’s just as stupid because she can’t see how head-over-heels in love you are with her...that, and she thinks you’re just an average idiot instead of a super idiot.”

This revelation floors Steve. He can feel all the blood rush from his face as he looks at his friend in horror. Had they really been that obvious? They had been so careful. “How..” he trembles out, letting the word trail off as he thinks back on all their interactions with the team, trying to think of any instance that would have given them away.

The Winter Soldier snorts, amused by Steve’s terror. “You might think you’re so slick, but I’ve known you since we were tots. I know when you’re smitten. Honestly, I’m a little insulted that you didn’t come and tell me. I think you two are great together.” He pauses, face darkening at another thought. “That was until you went and mucked things up. Seriously, you break up with her because you received a threatening letter? Honestly to God, Steve. And then you go to Sharon for help? No, not your best friend who is quite frankly better equipped to handle a situation like this. Not only that, but you insulted Y/N by implying that she wasn’t able to handle some sleazebag? She’s a lot tougher than you think. You don’t have to protect everyone.”

Steve remains silent, taking in everything that Bucky is saying. It isn’t anything that he doesn’t already know. But it does make him seem stupid when spoken aloud.

“You care for her,” Bucky states in a matter-of-fact tone. “I hope that you use this opportunity as a wake-up call. You need to think about whether or not you really want a life without her next to you.”

Steve chooses to ignore his last comment and goes back further in the conversation. “How did you know about the letter? I destroyed it as soon as I got it.”

“I have my ways,” he answers cryptically. Steve gives him an unamused look and Bucky releases an overdramatic sigh in return. “I keep tabs on what threats are coming in against my family.”

It still doesn’t explain how he knows, but Steve realizes that's the only explanation that he's going to get.

“It was still relatively new,” Steve says after a moment of silence, feeling the need to give some sort of explanation. “We both agreed to give our relationship a try for some amount of time before opening up to the team. It was fun, sneaking around. Added a sense of danger that was appealing.”

“You’re a kinky mo-fo, aren’t you?” Bucky comments.

Steve scoffs, trying to ignore the blush that's darkening his cheeks. “And you’ve been hanging out with Peter again.”

Bucky gives a non-committed shrug. “Was she aware of the threat or did you just push her away?”

This question forces a cringe from Steve and he rubs the back of his neck nervously. “She overheard me on the phone with Sharon and accused me of not being over her. She didn’t want to be second best to a Carter she said.”

“You’re an ass.”

Steve nods in agreement, eyes flicking to where Y/N is still sleeping in the hospital bed. She hasn’t moved, which is expected. “Her anger at the situation fueled my idea that becoming a grouchy jackass would push her away and make it easier for her to despise me. She has zero tolerance for assholes.” He can feel his lips curve up in a fond smile, remembering how she told him about her tolerance ‘issues’.

“Well, you two sure to play the role of spiteful ex’s incredibly well,” Bucky notes in an unimpressed tone. “Maybe it’s time you get over yourselves and realize that you work better together. Plus, your guys kids would be models.” His phone beeps at him and he reaches into his pants pocket, pulling it out. “I got to go. Tony wants to video chat with Shuri to see if she has any ideas on how to prevent my brain from melting out of my ears.” He stands up from his chair, brushing the invisible dirt off his hands. Walking away, he pauses at the door and gave Steve an amused look.

“By the way, I took care of the threat.”

Could it be so easy?

Steve stays by your side, debating the pros and cons of what telling you the truth would be and what the outcome could be.

People come and go, but he remains steadfast in his vigil.

He sits there, watching you for any sign of distress.

Any sign of recovery.

He prayed to a God that he hasn’t prayed to in ages.

Not since he woke up from being frozen alive.

Not since aliens came from the sky.

But now he prays.

He prays that you would make it out of this. He prays for a chance to have a life with you. He prays for the endless futures for the two or you.

He makes his decision.

Waking up had never been so hard.

When you come to, you're vaguely aware that this is the medical bay. You can faintly see the stark white light behind the tiny blood vessels in your eyelids. You can hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor. A swallow is stopped by the hard plastic of the tube down your throat.

Holy shit. How bad off are you?

The last thing you remembered was entering the underground tunnel with Steve after a failed mission.

Holy fuck! You were fucking shot!

Your eyes shoot open and you immediately start coughing on the tube that’s down your throat. You can hear the heart monitor beeping considerably faster. You try clawing at the tube, but strong hands pin your hands down.

You’re feeling panicked and scared. Your eyes are flickering around the room, trying to make sense of the situation.

Steve’s face comes into view and you see his lips moving, eyes watching you in a worried way. He faces away from you for a minute and you see him shouting before he turns back to you.

He’s holding both your hands in one hand, his other hand running over your hair in a soothing motion.

“It’s okay,” you finally make out. He strokes his thumb over your cheek, collecting the tears that were falling. You hadn’t realized that you were crying. “You’re going to be okay,” he says in a soothing way, his eyes showing no sign of betrayal.

There’s a cluster of people who crowd into the room and you find that Steve is shoved away from you.

The tube is gently removed from your throat by one doctor. Another is shining a bright light in your eyes. A third is looking over your monitor and a fourth is taking notes of the whole thing.

Just as quickly as they came, they all left with the exception of one who stays behind to tell you what happened. As soon as they relayed the message, they're off.

They leave you alone with Steve.

Your throat is incredibly sore from lack of use and having a tube shoved down it for days on end. Thankfully, a nurse leaves you with a bit of water to sooth it.

Now that the fear is out of your system, you fully remember that you and Steve aren’t on the best of terms.

“Wh-what are you doin’ here,” you croak out, trying not to wince at how gravely your voice sounds. But you need answers and Steve isn’t the type to just provide them without prodding.

Steve is standing awkwardly at the end of your bed, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders slumped. You idly eyeball the muscles in his forearms but shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. He doesn’t deserve your thirsty ass.

He looks away from you and clears his throat. “I’ve been doing some thinking,” he starts.

“That’s a fucking change,” you grumble.

He shoots you an exasperated look. “How about I talk and you listen? Your throat has to be raw and there’s no point in agitating it more.” He looks to you for confirmation that you agree but all you offer him is a blank stare. That's good enough for him. “I uh-well, simply put, I fucked up.”

You snort at this revelation but otherwise didn't comment.

“Just before we broke up, I had received a letter from a person and they said that if I pursue a relationship with you that you would be the one to pay the price. They had a picture of us together on a run, but you were clearly the focus of the picture. Except, they scratched out your face. The threat was a real concern and I contacted Sharon to see if she would help. That’s when you found me on the phone.” He pauses, looking at you only to see an unamused look on your face. “She wasn’t able to get any leads and that triggered something inside me. I realized that if we continued on with our relationship that there would be more threats that would come and there was no way for me to protect you from them all. That’s when I decided that it was better for you to hate me and put distance between us. Only….I found myself to be miserable. Nothing was the same. It was like living life without a purpose. Just going through the motions because there are people who depend on me. And to constantly see the look of hatred in your eyes every time I was around you...it was slowly killing me. But, I guess that sometime between you digging a bullet from my leg, you getting shot and me almost losing you all together made me realize how strong you are. You don’t need me. And that...that is what makes you so amazing. I had to face a reality where you didn’t exist in it and that was worse. I prayed that you would make it out of this. You don’t have to forgive me, but I needed you to know the truth behind our breakup. It was unfair of me to underestimate you and you deserve nothing less than the best. I guess that the point of all this rambling is that I still love you... and that I’ve never stopped.”

“Are you done?” you ask thinly, looking at Steve over the lip of your cup as you sip at your water.

He gives you a dejected look. “Yeah, that’s all I have. Guess I’ll go-”

“Sit your star-spangled ass down, Rogers,” you command, slamming your cup down on the side table. “It’s my turn to talk.”

Steve follows your direction and took the seat to your right and waits patiently for you to continue.

“First of all, you chucklefuck, I knew about the threat. You think you’re so special that you’re the only one who got a letter? No, no you are not. I even was so special that I got four letters!” You give him a second to process while you take another sip. “What really pisses me off is that you didn’t think to come to me with the situation and ran to your ex-girlfriend for help. Want to know the reason why she couldn’t get any leads? That’s because your boyfriend and I handled the fucking threat.”

“I went to Sharon to help you,” he defends, yet knowing that doesn't change him being an idiot. “I swear to you, Y/N. There’s nothing there except for a working relationship. I don’t see her in any sort of romantic light. That light is reserved solely for you.”

You let out a frustrated groan. “Jesus, Steve. All this time I was thinking you were just an average idiot when clearly, you are a super idiot!” You close your eyes and rub your temples, trying to fight off a headache that's slowly encroaching. “Bottom line, the reason why we broke up is that you chose not to communicate with me.”

There's a moment of silence as he takes in what you're saying. “I’m only human, Y/N. All I can do is hope you understand that and no relationship is perfect...and that I will try harder to be better...if you decide to take me back.”

Your pulse quickens as you realize this is what you've been waiting for. You longed for some magical way to fix things between the two of you and here's the golden opportunity. You only need to think for a second.

Reaching over, you grab Steve by his shirt and pull him to you, crashing his lips to yours. It's a kiss full of passion that leaves you panting for breath once Steve pulls away.

“I take it that’s a yes?” he teases, wanting verbal confirmation.

“Just kiss me again, you twat.”

Tag(s): @bettercallsabs, @thinkwritexpress-official

#Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x Reader #kari's 1k mcu writing challenge #Captain America #Captain America x Reader #Steve Rogers x Y/N #Captain America x Y/N #Angst #angst with a happy ending #Bucky lectures Steve #Bucky Barnes #marvel #marvel fanfic #Steve Rogers fanfic #Captain America fanfic

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thepausedsforzando · 3 years

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III. The Paused Sforzando

Part II: (Intermission) The Caretaker

As I have documented my life since high school, I haven’t said everything. As I said in part I, I’d say so many more details and try to remember them. As I’ve lost myself the the void, I’ve just half assed and not even tried to remember. It become more vague. Furthermore, I also am focusing more on the state of my mind and my feelings rather events. The events became more scarce, and monotonous. With not much of a life, I’ve just occupied myself with guilt and misery. This is an event I didn’t even mention in Inbetween And Limbo, or anywhere in the series. And it is honestly big enough that for the first time, half of this Part will almost be like a tangent or interruption in the chronology to mention something. It’s that important. We are currently in June 2016, but I need to take you back 3 years. Back to my breakdown and intervention. Where when I was fighting making any effort, at the same time I was writing about a very ugly man with his pale yellow, old fashioned lantern. Let us talk about Gaw and Andros.

In 2013, I had reached my pinnacle. All the things I incessantly repeat about self hate, not caring, blah blah blah had been well fed and bore its stark white fangs in the blackest of my mind. That image was in a Kanye West video and honestly stuck with me as a fitting metaphor for my state. The demons of when I was 9 and suicidal were back again. Blaming myself for never being able to have a life or do this shit on my own, be that maintaining a job or having a fucking, goddamned friendship. Nothing was changing. I must have thought of doing this, but if I didn’t, I ended up doing it anyway.

It was a night mostly like any. A frozen pizza on a handmedown plate from my parents ‘cause I couldn’t fucking just go out and buy one myself. Another night alone and no end in sight to a world so neglectful. I decided to write. And when I write, I mean music. I’d been trying before to get back in the habit. I was writing that night and was writing repugnant, self loathing filth into my lyric book under a black light as the Weeknd haunted the blackness of my room. I let myself go wild. It got worse, and worse, and worse. Words expressing my worthless state of existing rotated the hate 180 degrees back straight to me. Then it became my fault. At the root of all of this, it was coming from such a worthless being who didn’t deserve friends or such a loving family in the first place. I’m the evil and it’s a good balance of nature that some worthless, repugnant waste of semen was slowly getting robbed of everything.

Oh but what I wrote was me talking to myself and forcing myself to believe this. It got real. It got really real. I guess I panicked when I finally adhered to the words I’d been flirting with; when I finally acted out what I meant rather idealize them. And I never wanted this. And ultimately, I don’t believe this. But the desire to believe it feels so strong, it then feels real. It’s not as simple as ‘well, I don’t want it, so it doesn’t bother me.’ My world has been turned upside down and vacuumed of all heat and purpose.

I suffer from many aspects of Toxic Masculinity. I’m not a feminist, I’m an egalitarian. This phrase has surfaced recently (from my perspective, at least) In feminist spheres and whatever I agree with, disagree with and are skeptical about modern day feminism, I’ll say whoever theorized and propagated this is spot on. I had gone on a goal when I was a kid so I wouldn’t be weak or unmanly, or whatever. I could get into other Toxic aspects, but I’ll focus on the boys don’t cry horseshit. I went a decade without crying. I broke that cycle a while ago and I’ve lightened up, going the opposite direction and encouraging men do it at a healthy, non-excessive rate.

I bring that paragraph up to say that all I wanted to do was just sob and break the fuck down. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. It didn’t come naturally, I couldn’t just unexpectedly do it. I forced myself to do it as I was curled up in a ball in the dark on my fucking $50 couch. I had called my mother at 5:47 a.m. because I needed her to say that she loved me. I couldn’t hang with the masochism I had been worshipping and feeding so excessively. That breakdown put me on the other side of a wall. Instead of realizing I value myself and that I don’t want any of this, I realized all this apartment renting, job working, friend socializing whenever it’d practically never happen, woman pursuing.....it was for me. And I hate me. So....why would I try and make someone happy I detest?

Through this process, I had an idea. Whenever I had realized it, I had envisioned a man who looks like David Bradley’s portrayal of Argus Filch in the Harry Potter series, notably The Philosopher’s Stone and The Chamber Of Secrets. Holding an old, yellow, rectangular lantern like Harry held when he was in The Restricted Section in Philosopher’s Stone. Like Filch, he was a caretaker. Moving away from Harry Potter inspiration, this character resided in the empty, black recesses of my eyes as the caretaker of my mind. The sole person watching over, spreading his hatred and resuming the suppression of any of my happiness.

I got inspired.

I went on to doing something similar to this series and documenting moments of my life and referencing things from my childhood. Making a 4 part series, starting from childhood and ending................somewhere. 4 part ‘cause a trilogy is overdone and predictable. The titles at the moment are changing, but are finalized for now

Much has been debated. Drafts take place in and alternate world, focusing around a main character, Andros, who is like the town leader, but not in a political way. He’s supernatural, or maybe not. Anyway, there’s a famine in the crops that bring darkness upon it. Tragedy strikes the innocent city and drastic, inhumane extremes are gone to that have never been witnessed before. The stress makes Andros vulnerable to the darkness that has caused the famine and something foreign, supernatural and quite negative implants itself like that scene in Alien: Covenant, I guess. There’s more that’s been written, but I’m afraid of getting my ideas stolen before I finish them.

It might have been therapeutic. Idr. I’m the absolute champion of starting everything and abandoning it shortly after. Anyway, the drafts never got deleted, and I should pick back up on it. But that was a big point for me. Moving on....

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kierongillen · 7 years

Text

Writer Notes: The Wicked + the Divine 26

Spoilers, obv.

This felt like a big issue to us. I mean, in a literal sense it was a big issue. We normally are 20 pages of art (plus cheats). This is 23 pages of art, due to me completely fucking up and writing a 22 page script extremely early, thinking I'd go back to it and work out a way to compress it to 20. Except I forgot I had extra work to do on the script, so didn't leave enough time to rework it before Jamie had to get it. And then Jamie insisted on expanding a sequence by a page, because he loves you guys, or at least loves the comic.

I don't really think I could have compressed it without hurting the comic either. I compress the action at the start, and it leaves a reader cheated. I talked about false drama of cliffhangers last time, and if you don't have at least some manner of satisfying that promise, it's a cheat, and not in an interesting way people would thank us for. However, at the same time, that's not what we're really doing here. Equally, losing stuff from the back of the issue would move it into the next issue... and that is also sub-optimum, for reasons you'll see next time.

Put it like this: Jamie joked “can we split this issue in two?” and I took it entirely seriously, and started doing the math on making this a seven issue arc.

But no.

There's also one change which should be mentioned – we've gone up to $3.99 from $3.50. Why? Image suggested we should. There are very few Image books that are $3.50 now. The vast majority are $3.99. We've had our price set at $3.50 ever since 2006, with the exception of Immaterial Girl. We figured we should listen to our publisher. 50 cents across a decade seems reasonable, especially in an industry where $3.99 seems standard.

Anyway, let's do this thing...

Jamie/Matt's Cover The Norns, and they are kind of core to this issue, so more of a connection between cover and contents than for most of the issue. For reasons that become clear this issue, The Norns and Baal step forward as alternative protagonists for the story structure. They are key.

There was considerable EEEK! Over the wearing of masks.

Nicola Scott's Cover

Nicola's wonderful. I've wanted a candid photo cover for most of WicDiv, and I'm surprised it's only turned up now. It's also delineating Sakhmet and Persephone, which is a key note towards the end of the issue.

The Image 25th Anniversary Cover

It should be stressed, this was Eric Stephenson's idea.

You may wonder how we did it.

This is how we did it.

In short: we did it like an episode of Playschool. The lighting being a lamp, gaffataped to a wall is a particular highpoint.

And then Katie-west worked her magic.

All the good jokes on the covers are Jamie's, which is very annoying, but makes me feel better when I laugh at it, as at least I’m not laughing at my own crap.

Page 1

I love the first panel. I almost put it in the newsletter, but decided we should save that thrill for context. It's very much in the establishing shot mode, and a promise. Jamie and Matt executing things like Minervas concussive wind blasts out of the swirling body is lovely detail too.

I did have something akin to a NOT AGAIN! As a line of dialogue from Minerva here, but was obviously killed for breaking tone. See later in the notes for other thoughts on that whole sequence.

And by the end of the page, we've changed direction entirely. No, this isn't going to be a straight fight. We have other narrative fish to fry.

Page 2-3

RISING ACTION was basically four issues of straight punchy, with a middle act of woe. We're not the sort to do that again, and immediately try and make this feel different. That first panel where we get a very human observation of a superhero event. A glance out the window, and shit is going down out there. There is a lot to try and ground this as we go on, even as it escalates...

I suspect Amaterasu's realisation is one of the cruellest lines I've written for her.

Heh. Okay – want to hear another example of me messing up? I knew I needed Amaterasu here, ASAP. But I had also set the scene at night, so her long-range-teleportation doesn't work. This led to a rewrite to bring in the Woden-designed-arm-piece from Rising Action. And it helps in other ways – we get the interaction with her mum, which says a lot about Amaterasu. I do like the idea of Amaterasu having left this piece of fancy armour lying around on her bedroom floor and her mum tidied it up.

Jamie pushed a panel from page 3 onto page 2, which is obviously a smarter call, letting him keep a steady angle on the three teleportation panels, which nails the effect. The breaking up dialogue to show that things are instantaneous is obviously one of our tropes.

The lettering on this sequence involved some messing around with layers to get work, and to make the fade in operate. Nice work, Clayton. This is also an area where my suspicion of sound-effects was entirely over-ruled.

Page 4

And hulllllo Baal's family.

This strikes me as a very WicDiv take on a reveal. It could have worked with just a reveal of his family – we'd want to see that. But to reveal that, and juxtapose it to the creeping monsters, so mixing the excitement of meeting new people with the fear of losing them? That's WicDiv, innit? Sigh.

This was also the page which went through the most colouring notes. Getting the exact level of reveal on the Great Darkness creatures, of how much they're in the light or not took quite a few takes. We're very happy.

Page 5

We are totally not rated PG.

Page 6-7

If you follow me on twitter, you'd see me doing a crowdsurfed suggestion for a line of dialogue for someone to say when they're pulling someone out of the way. That was this page, and Persephone pulling the tentacles. I decided that any dialogue was too much. It even makes it jokey (clearly not the intent) or slows down the action. Even a “NO!” felt too much for me.

We're heading more towards action here, and doing a beautifully rendered fight-scene in someone's garden. This feels a very us thing to do.

I believe I described the Amaterasu laser beam shot in the mode of a Quietly moment, that sense of a still moment in time. Jamie and Quitely don't have a huge amount of overlap as artists for me – Quitely is all about the 3D space of a shot, which Jamie simply isn't – but this captures something really furious. The colouring from Matt on the heat vision is particularly A+.

The push and pull of Amaterasu is very much her thing. Her bravery is an open question, as is her capacity for anger and violence. From Persey-Poo to incinerating her foes in a couple of pages doesn't exactly make me feel comfortable about her. So nice work, J ane M.

Also Good Job Baal's Brother on spotting the baddies.

Page 8

Jamie and my debate on exactly how to (er) Biggify the Darkness creature was quite a thing. Of course, the creatures are granular. We can't just make the grains bigger.

We were a little worried that Persephone firing red thorns being a little confusing, when red is Amaterasu's signature. We may end up tweaking them green in the trade. Not that we've seen anyone complain about it.

I think Amaterasu's living-Darkseid-stary-beam is my favourite regular power signature in this book.

Lots of careful unpacking on what is said on the phone, to ensure clear storytelling. That we never actually show the Great Darkness Creature back at the shard defeated is an unsusual choice... but we need to make sure that people know it HAS been defeated and Minerva rescued. Equally, we come back to the nature of cliffhangers we mentioned earlier. We've promised a fight against the Great Darkness, but are much more interested in introducing Baal's family, showing Amaterasu's complicity in this, Persephone's powers, etc. So you DO get a great darkness fight, just not the one you were expecting, which is hopefully okay as the one you were expecting is a lot less interesting than this. Hopefully.

The Phone is a Woden design, as referenced later in the issue. Baal can't just go down any phone. You'll see one on his living room table in last issue.

Page 9

This is the sort of page I'd have ended up cutting if I tried to reduce the issue... and why would I want to do a thing like this?

There was a discussion of whether ALL I DO IS WIN was too much. It eventually worked around to obviously it's too much, but WicDiv is too much, so that's all fine.

This is a lovely set of colouring from Matt here. The white and purple is just a delight.

Notice tiny Scarab-esque thing shooting off in the top right panel. In a moving medium the Great Darkness' nature would be a lot cleaner, but we do stuff like this.

Page 10

And we're back to grounded colours. Just turn this page and see how things change. Isn't that a delight? Matt Wilson For Eisner, etc.

Yes, Baal's name is Valentine Campbell. Obviously we chewed it over a bunch. Valentine has so many connotations seemed to be useful.

I find myself thinking that in the first half of the issue Persephone is almost back to volume 2 Laura. She's primarily an observer, one who is taken places and sees thing. That does tend to make Amaterasu's final line particularly pointed.

Lovely pair of expressions in that final panel.

Page 11

The title for this was originally ONCE MORE, leading directly into Baal's first line, and hitting the beat again. That changed when I realised I wanted to do the whole sequence as a nine panel grid.

This is the first time all the surviving gods have been in a scene together, and it's a circular table. Luckily, when I mapped the gods to the seats, the ones who are most important to interact are actually sitting beside each other – imagine how difficult it would have been if Baal and the Norns weren't seated by each other.

(We'd have done something else, clearly, and had the Norns standing like Persephone is.)

So I was trying to work out how to panel all this political-meeting style chat, and hit the bit where the gods vote. And I realised that as there were nine gods voting, it'd work really well as a nine-panel grid. That rapidly expanded to... wait, especially with Baal/Norns sitting by each other (so minimising the need for wide shots) I could do the whole thing in a nine panel grid. That allows you to cut between individual characters speaking, and not have to worry about the interactions for most of it.

That unlocked the way to best dramatically sell the Persepone's final line. If we build a structure, we can get an aesthetic effect by demolishing it.

It's not the first time we've done a Nine Panel Grid in our work, but its' certainly the longest. And if we're doing Nine Panel, it brings it back to Watchmen, which means that we should highlight that. Hence, the title altering to THE WATCH, which obviously has all kinds of connotations.

I go through this to primarily show how much fun this job can be. Stuff builds on top of other stuff, and you eventually end up with something much more full than the original idea. For me, pretty much nothing is as good as writing is when it's going right.

Which is the sort of thing I'll get depressed about if I think too much about it, so let's not for now, eh?

Page 12

If we're going to do the nine panel thing, we need to establish the scene properly. Two panels, built on a nine-panel grid superstructure.

Obviously this was a heavy described panel, as we had to cram in all the character beats for all the people. Baph's slouch is particularly on point. The coffee that Dio is hanging onto for dear life another. The Norns not getting a seat.

One thing I particularly like about this page? It forefronts the visual element of the table with twelve gods around which people may not have noted. This, on a page after a big title saying THE WATCH is more obviously a clock face.

Yes, Watchmen was a big influence on me as a writer. Did I mention it? I may have mentioned it.

Page 13

Oh man – look at Matt's use of shadow here. Baal in the darkness on last page was great, but passing from the shadow to light in the first panel.

When I first saw Jamie had put Minerva in plaid I worried for him. “Er... Jamie. Drawing Plaid is a lot of work.” He noted that as there was only a few panels with her in, it'll be fine. Jamie is not entirely foolish.

The page does show one of the things about the nine panel – as in, you get more beats... but you have to be pretty particular to choose those beats. 9 panel is good for a writer, for certain things (most important: timing), but you can do less with any one panel. On the plus side your beats are more deliberate, more delineated.

In this case, showing Persephone's is relatively “expensive” in page space, but clearly necessary – Baal is saying the stuff he's never said before. We need to see her response.

And yeah... Baal finally lays out his main motivation. I suspect for close readers or re-readers, things make a lot more sense.

The seventh panel is one of four two shots I can see in this whole sequence, to get an idea of how sparsely we tried to use them. Maybe 5 if you include the one with Woden asking “Does she get a vote.” Though I say this having only skimmed quickly, and am sure I must have missed one..

The non sequitur panel of the 8th is one of my fave things you can do with a rigid panel like this. Drop a silent panel and break it up.

Page 14-15-16

Honestly, this kind of shit is stuff I love. Just lock characters in a room and let them argue. Political dramas. Legal dramas. It's just a fascinating writing challenge – who speaks next and why. How to delineate the information, how to lampshade information is questionable, etc, etc.

I mean, in some ways this sort of debate is pure exposition – here are some statements – but the fact that each is immediately interrogated turns it into something else.

Basically, if left to my own devices, I'd have just done a 40 issue series in the style of 12 ANGRY MEN called 12 ANGRY GODS.

In terms of my outline, I knew that the pantheon would have a schism at this point. Until Brexit happened, I didn't realise that it would be by something as clear and true as a simple democratic vote.

The hand on Cass' shoulders is the sort of thing I'd have only done in a nine panel grid.

Yes, Baphomet, there was a time for jokes, and it was in the first arc.

PAGE 17

This issue, for reasons which we'll get to shortly, had some consultants' eyes on. That bit was fine. The thing which was tweaked then, and tweaked time and time over is trying to delineate the sides. The first draft simply hadn't sufficiently. Hell, the second or third lettering tweaks didn't do the trick completely. At least from the comments we've seen, no-one seems lost, so the effort seems worth it.

The problem is that each member of the debate wants to phrase their position in the best way possible and their enemies in the worst way, which actually leaves it hard to say what's actually go on. This led to Baal in the final panel actually bringing it together – the PRIORTISE THE GREAT DARKNESS vs STUDY is the key thing. ANARCHY had to be introduced explicitly by cass to describe someone else's position as a label before it could be used here too.

In terms of minor fact drops? One of the things people always ask is what's going on with the skulls. Here we just let people know they're ornaments.

In terms of the nine panel grid, I think the single hardest decision was letting go of showing the Norn's response to Sakhmet's threat. Alas, everything else is more important.

The second one would be Baal doing something like counting people around the room, to ensure that the reader knows that Baal thinks he's won. In the end, we highlight that later, and with the ellipsis in the eighth panel. And, of course, as always a Jamie McKelvie expression goes a long way.

Er... I'm writing too much about this stuff, but I hope it's useful for people who think about comic craft. And to double-triple stress, as always in these notes, I really am just telling the surface level storytelling basics.

Page 18

And the vote page. As said earlier, was where the 9 panel grid came as possible.

These lines were especially tweaked to sell the positions and why.

And Dionysus, for the first time in the scene, speaks. Obviously a key issue for Dio, where we move him into an explicit new position in the plot.

Page 19

Man, I don't even want to unpack this page.

But I can easily imagine how both Baal and Cass are feeling in the last panel. Uh... wait...

Page 20

Formalism doing its formalism thing.

This was written in a nine panel grid, but with descriptions of which panels are covered by Persephone's hair.

Page 21

And then we go into our quick cuts to move to the new status quo, the nine panel.

It's very much our aesthetic that we show the break-up but don't show the getting-together.

I suspect it's the sort of scene I'd like to talk about further down the line, but not now.

The gold prize for Jamie here are panels 3 and 4. For me, that's comic, and that's why I love comics.

Well, one of the reasons, anyway.

Page 22-23

Cass continues to be a gift for those who like reaction images.

The strangest rewrite of the issue for me was the “What's the saying about stopped clocks?” line, which was originally a lot more suggestive and less explicit. But 2 of the first 4 people to read it didn't get it in its more suggestive form, which meant that I was always going to dial back for clarity's sake.

So, yes, this is a Cass/Dio/Woden team-up for the Study side. Splitting your cast into smaller narrative units is a good tactic in a team book (I sort of learned it properly when I was writing my 9-core-person Uncanny X-men team). You also see it all over the place – if you listen to Community notes, you'll see how they split their cast into different arrangements and see how the characters interact. Having three characters who, on the surface, appear to have very different priorties come together under a larger banner is an interesting one.

In terms of the explicitly delineating at least part of the sexualities, this has been considered for a while. Let's start with Cassandra.

Early on in WicDiv, I saw a random comment of someone annoyed with something I'd said. Specifically me saying something akin to “I sometimes need room to discover a character's sexuality.” Her response – and one I completely get – was annoyance with suggesting people don't know their own sexualities. The “No, I know I'm Bi – don't say it's a phase. Don't say it's something I'm discovering.”

As I said, I get it, but that's not what I meant. I meant characters. Writing often feels like excavation. Not always, but sometimes, and especially in a book like WicDiv. You get to know them by writing them, sometimes in actually fundamental ways, ways which were always there but now come to the surface. For all my planning in WicDiv, it's also a living creature.

So when starting off, I always had a few feelings about Cassandra. There was the possibility that she was actually asexual. It would fit with her for a few ways, and the evidence for a reading of that was certainly there. However, I rapidly realised it caused huge problems inside the narrative in terms of what it was saying about asexuality. One of Cassandra's primary traits is that she doesn't experience the performances. If she's asexual, that implies that it's linked to that – especially when the performances have been linked so strongly to sex at various places in the narrative. I thought that'd be true even if we had another asexual character in the primary cast to show the contrary. I continued writing her and thinking, and having an awareness of the various potentials I saw in her. I didn't have to make a choice yet.

The flashpoint was issue 20, where I realised that it just was untenable for her to be asexual. Because if performances are linked in the readers' mind to sex, that eventually Cassandra does response to a performance is a sign that asexuals just haven't met the right person yet.

No. I'm not writing a book that suggests that.

There is also the real world thing that trans women are viewed through a hypersexual lens or an asexual one, which is certainly one feeds into the final dialogue on the page.

So everything re-arranged and solidified in the other way I saw them – a stable lesbian polyamarous triad. I saw with Imperial Phase ahead, that felt more and more necessary. WicDiv is... not a book where relationships are healthy. Every single romantic relationship in the book is openly dysfunctional. Relevantly, there is a lot of people doing polyamory very badly. It comes to a point where it looks like the book saying this behaviour is bad rather than this specific practise is bad. The Norns would be the counter-argument. In this issue, we show them in an private, loving supportive relationship that's arguably more unconventional than any other in the book.

We don't get to see any of the sex, of course, as it's none of our business and they're not there for the readers' pleasure. But with them in our story, it shows there's nothing implicitly wrong with kink, or polyamory or anything else... as long as you don't act like sentient burning trashcans.

That was the thinking. Some of it, anyway.

Oh – on the note of discovery, I only realised that she'd lean submissive as I wrote the page. It was a surprise to me as well, but seemed to align with everything else and make a lot of things make more sense.

In Dio's case, it was there as a possibility even as I first wrote him into the bible. I see myself writing around it in my notes, saying that I just didn't feel like sex was a big drive for him in the way it was for so much of the cast. The problem eventually came for the place to introduce it, and how, and in the same action where we move Dio towards the centre stage (or at least primary supporting characters) seemed to be it.

We've had a lot of supportive messages about both of these, so thank you. And thanks again to our consultants, who we will continue to high five at the slightest encouragement.

Page 24-25

This was originally written as a page, but Jamie insisted on MOTORBIKE DRAMA!

And how could we resist that?

I actually wrote a first draft of this, and wondered if it was too much, and then did a completely different end scene based on Persephone leaving the Shard. Arguing it over with Chrissy, we came down strongly on this. It's WicDiv. We crash motorbikes into walls for the sake of it.

Worth noting: this is a return to a non-cliffhanger ending structure. The “read the next issue” comes from the whole of the issue rather than a specific beat. This is about leaving it with a mood.

Favourite thing in colour – the circle of light on the wall, a half second before impact.

I'll give you one for free: Persephone is on the phone to one of her people, probably an agent. I could have put an explicit call in that to the dialogue, but it was too crass and fake, and the specific identity doesn't really matter that much. It's just someone who's clearly going to get her a new bike.

Also: the main reason why I wondered whether this scene wasn't too much, is because it is literally the lyrics to Icona Pop's I LOVE IT.

Page 26

“Hey, C, is referencing Kesha too much on the interstitial? It sort of is a trashy pop take on Watchmen's encroaching apocalypse feel.”

“No, that sounds like exactly the sort of thing you do.”

“Cool.”

See you next month, where we reach the penultimate part of IMPERIAL PHASE (I). It's just being put to bed, and we like it a lot.

Thanks for reading.

#WicDiv #the wicked and the divine #Nicola Scott #writer notes

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