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rachelbethhines · 1 year

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60 Years of Doctor Who Anniversary Marathon - C. Baker 4th Review

Mission to Magnus - Novel

So we talked last time about season 23's hiatus and the hasty re-writes that were forced upon the crew in exchange for letting the series continue.

Well years later, the Target range contacted the authors of the abandoned scripts and asked if they would adapt them into a novel format. Basically creating Target novelizations for stories that never saw air time.

Mission to Magnus is is one such script.

Let's get the positives out of the way first.

This really does feel like a lost serial from the Sixth Doctor's era, warts and all.

This means that everyone is in character. Peri and the Doctor come across exactly like they do on screen. All of the villains and side characters feel like the stepped right out of the 80s. Sil is still Sil. And the plot just has that same, "barely hangs together" post-modern/crass humor vibe that is indicative of the era.

Which might be the very thing that holds the story back.

The plot just doesn't gel together that well, and it often feels like the writer is struggling to find a direction or a even a point.

The story starts with the Doctor being lured into a trap by his old childhood bully from the Academy. He's still traumatized by those events and has to learn to over come his fear.

Which would be a very interesting and relatable story if it was handled with any care, but it isn't. The Doctor just reverts to comedic child like blubbering instead of the way adults would normally process such trauma. Adults do not show fear the same way children would, and even if still scared, they wouldn't face off against their childhood bullies the same as if they were six years old still.

There is the added problem of said bully not being any a threat in any real way. He orders the Doctor to take his place within a trap, (even though technically the Doctor would outrank him as President, and both of them should know that) and then proceeds not to question who set that trap. Especially since he was invited to the planet by the people who live there.

Then the bully is easily captured again by the natives. Where upon he is bullied himself into revealing the secrets of time travel to them. When the Doctor finally confronts his nemesis the character has been reduced to such a pathetic state that it hardly feels like a triumph.

He is then easily dispatched and never heard from again through out the rest of the story… and that's all in the first third of the fist act. Like what was even the point of introducing such a plot line if your weren't going to develop it.

Then there's the Ice Warriors, who despite being on the front cover really feel like an after thought that was just thrown in there. They're apparently pitting two different worlds against each other so that they might divide and conquer both in secret.

Which on the surface isn't too terrible an idea, but it's paired with a ridiculous climate change plot involving orbits of the planets rather then just changing the atmosphere. Which in turn is the only reason to justify their use in the plot as they are written to be the same as any other monster of the week baddie… ignoring what made them stand out in the first place.

Which leads to the final and perhaps biggest complaint about the story… the battle between the sexes. Each of the two worlds are supposed to be dominated by the opposite sex, with both holding backwards attitudes towards the other.

The problem is we don't get to see both societies in action. We only see the female led civilization being totalitarian and oppressive. When we meet members of the male led society they are being held captive by the ice warriors and work willing with the Doctor an Peri to fight the monsters.

This means that when the men insult the ruler of the women led world it looks like justified clap-back for the women's mistreatment of others, rather then the sexist diatribe that it is.

Worst the narration insists that the men are talking with the women 'as equals' for the first time, but the dialogue and attitudes displayed therein is anything but equal treatment.

Also, once the Ice Warriors are defeated, and the female led society need to rebuild, the men offer their assistance, not out of any goodwill or decency but in exchange for enslaving the women as their 'wives'… effectively conquering the planet as their own anyways and this is played off as a joke?

It's important to point out that none of the women actually agree to this arrangement, yet everyone from off planet, including the Doctor, just accepts this as an inevitable fact of life… and sneaks off while they're arguing rather then trying to come up with a fairer alliterative.

What!?

I can only assume that the author intended this to be a parody of the Amazonian women trope, but it's so poorly presented that it winds up being even more offensive then when the show first played the trope straight back in the 60s with Galaxy Four.

I'll be honest, as unfair as Grade's treatment of JNT and Colin Baker was, I'm kind of glad that this never made it to screen as I don't trust that the production team back then would have managed the all the re-writes that the scripted definitely needed.

This is, on a purely technical level, the weakest of the novels I've read for the marathon. Which is a shame as there are things hidden in here to like. Oh well, at least it was short.

#doctor who #classic who #sixth doctor #colin baker #peri #sil

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realhousewives-fan · 2 years

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Is it Over for Brandi After This Scandal?

Brandi, Brandi, Brandi… What have you done now?!

Rumors has been going around like crazy after it was announced that Brandi Glanville and Caroline Manzo left the trip to Morocco earlier than planned.

I didn’t pay much attention, because I remember the rumors about how Leah McSweeney was thrown out of Thailand for throwing elephant poop.

We still haven’t seen RHUGT3 though and we’re already getting crazy rumors about RHUGT4!

And Carlos King was laughing about it on his YouTube channel, and he supposedly knows other producers, so how serious could it be, I thought.

But then statements were starting to drop, and then I had to start listening to the rumors.

According to Page Six Brandi has allegedly kissed and touched Caroline inappropriately and against her will, and Peacock released a statement through People Magazine to address the situation:

“The safety and security of cast and crew while shooting is extremely important, and we take all reports seriously. […] In this situation, production immediately launched a comprehensive review and is taking appropriate action.”

In the Page Six article they write that the incident wasn’t filmed since it had happened in a locked bathroom, but their mics had been on, and the crew had found the audio “disturbing”.

According to People’s sources Brandi was asked to leave by production, while Caroline decided to end filming and leave early too.

Brandi is known to be drinking a lot, be overly flirty and sexual. She’s known to be taking things too far, but at the same time she’s highly sensitive to things.

I can’t imagine what possessed her to do something like this to another woman. Brandi on the other hand tweeted this:

She’s asking us to check our sources, but it’s People Magazine, and Page Six names Alex McCord as one of the women who were present for the incident.

Was it a joke taken too far? She’s known to do that too. But no means no, no matter the intent.

This might be it. Brandi might officially be cancelled after this and never return to any show on Bravo or Peacock.

#Real Housewives Ultimate Girls Trip #RHUGT #RHUGT4 #Brandi Glanville #RHOBH #Caroline Manzo #RHONJ #Leah McSweeney #RHUGT3 #Alex McCord #RHONY

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forensicated · 3 months

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03x06 - What Are Little Boys Are Made Of?

Robin Frank is at a local school for a police initiative where he is marking the bikes of children with their postcodes in a way that cannot be removed. He shouts a paper boy over and offers to do his bike there and then. The boy seems very nervous and takes a few seconds before he gives his postcode.

Alec tells June that a £200 trophy that they'd spent the previous day looking for has been found in a cupboard where the owners wife had put it 'out the way' "She should do the same with her husband." June laughs. Nick runs down the corridor and into CAD telling them 'he's coming, and he's got the paper with him!' Alec arrives right behind him (too soon given how far Nick was ahead of him when he ran off.) An angry Brownlow enters CID looking for Brian Kite who hasn't yet arrived. Ken tells Alec there's a 999 call coming in from the yard. "Probably wants to buy a car." Alec sniggers. "It's a bus actually..." Ken adds innocently, making Alec giggle even more.

A 9 year old boy has thrown a milk bottle at a bus which caused it to make an emergency stop and injure people. A man who's wife was injured goes to strike the boy, stopped by Taffy who tells him not to make the situation worse and to go to his wife.

Ted interrupts Tom and Dinesh's custody stocktake and tries to get Tom to sign a prisoner out for interview. Tom can't help as the prisoner needs 8 hours to rest so can't be let out until 9.45am. Ted is in court at 10 on another case and can't wait that long but Tom will not move. "Why should that bastard get 8 hours? I've only had 3!" His prisoner is also due a review at 12pm - when Ted still won't be back! He'll be gone if Brownlow doesn't agree for an extension.

Brownlow is in his office moaning at the local paper for not having 'checked with the officer concerned' and warns them he'll be writing to the editor about it. Ted knocks to ask him to extend the prisoners time in custody but he's too busy to speak to him. Kite arrives behind him and is ordered inside. Charles' car has been listed in the classifieds. "Your car sir? I didn't realise you were selling it." "I'm not. Some cheeky bastard has put my car in there as a piss take!" he snaps. "I had six phone calls last night and three before breakfast! You find that amusing? Somebody in this nick does!" Brian scoffs and says that he expects discipline and professionalism from the men. "I mean they haven't even asked a sensible price."

Taffy takes the boy who threw the bottle at the bus home and explains to his mother what happened. She refuses to let him in the house and says she's had enough and he's more trouble than her other six kids put together. She says he should lock him up.

At the front desk, 2 boys hand in a big black bag of electricity saving stamps that they saw a man throw in a canal. They agree to stay and give a report about it to CID.

Mike says he can't interview Ted's prisoner because he doesn't know anything about it as its not his case. Jim offers to 'have a bash' and Ted just stares at him before turning back. "Tom Penny actually enjoys it, that's what really gets up my nose!" Mike tells him he might not be long in court but the magistrate Ted has is known to be long winded. His girlfriend, Maggie, rings and asks if he's booked the restaurant for them. He tells her he has before hanging up. "Shit! What time to restaurants open?" "Proper ones? A while yet." Mike smirks. Ted asks Mike, "The Sloane Ranger of East One." to book a nice restaurant for that night at 8pm. "It'll be a pleasure Ted. What are you celebrating?" "The anniversary of our first bunk up!" Mike looks stunned for a second before turning to look at Jim. "Ever think you'll celebrate yours, Jim?" "Sorry?" "Nothing...." Jim goes down to speak to the lads who brought the stamps in.

Taffy walks the child back to school and they bump into Robin who asks him if they're there for postcoding. "Hardly. Don't even want this one back." Taffy sighs, offering the kid a sweet as he takes him into the building.

The stamps have a total value of just under £133,000 once counted. The boys reckon there's another 2 sacks that were thrown into the canal and have given a description of the men who did it and the vehicle they drove off in. Roy doesn't buy it because the boys were night fishing and it's a lot to have seen clearly at 5am. Jim says it's not pitch black at that time (it is if you go by when it aired - 26th October! - rather than when it was filmed) Jim doesn't think they're lying but Roy tells him not to take everything at face value. He asks him to ask Reg if there's any forgery intelligence about at the moment and to ask the teen's parents to come in. He also says he'll speak to Charles about a frogman in the canal.

Ted asks Charles to authorise further extension to custody because he has to go to court and if he's sent out on bail then they'll likely not get him again. Charles suggests asking Roy to interview him but Ted says that it's his case and the others don't know enough to get the 'crafty bastard' on the hook. Without any charges pending, Charles refuses to extend the custody. He'll be released before Ted gets back.

In the canteen, uniform discuss the advert for Brownlow's car. Nick assures them Brownlow can't prove it was any of them who placed it. Part of the fun is that Brownlow has no sense of humour, so there'd be no point in doing it otherwise. Reg cheers them all up by asking them how they feel about Hepatitis B and that there's a thousand ways they could catch it! Nick is called from the table by Alec. "Alright, who grassed?" he drawls "... Chief Super?" "No, Bob Cryer. He's got a job for you." Alec says before grinning.

Bob wants a prisoner collected from another station and tells Nick to take June with him after Nick suggests using his own car because of the lack of police vehicles free. Brian corners Bob and asks if he thinks Nick placed the article in the paper. Bob just looks at Brian with a 'Seriously?' expression before returning to his duties.

Robin is giving a lesson in a school about unsafe places to play. At the back of the class the child who Taffy bought in is being comforted by a teacher. Close up it's obvious that he's neglected and is filthy. Taffy goes up to speak to the headteacher and passes on a message from Youth And Communities about a new anti-drugs campaign. He refuses to allow them in 'no access, no brain washing, no spying'. He insists, clearly against police presence from the off.

Nick takes June a 'quick' way to the other station. He pulls into a Makro for a bit of shopping to collect booze for a party at his flat that night. June isn't happy and stays in the car to wait for him. Nick tries to run a red light at some roadworks and June shouts at him to stop only for the car behind to crash into them and crush his boot. Nick won't wait for the mans details when he gets out and apologises and insists he must go. When they get to the flat Nick cannot open the boot and insists he needs something heavy to do so. Whilst he's off getting a sledge hammer June manages to open it without any fuss. Several bottles are already broken and have leaked all over the boot. June drops the first box she's given, breaking even more bottles. To add insult to injury, the boot now will not stay closed!

Bob attends the house of a young lad who is considering entering the police force with his father rather annoyed because he'd wanted him to go into the army like him. What makes it worse for the father is that his son wants to join the Essex police and move out of home rather than stay and join the MET.

Roy speaks to Jim who updates him that they've found two more sacks of stamps and the machine that makes them. There's a multimillion pound forgery racket on their hands as it ties in with other discoveries. Unfortunately it must be sent up to the yard to be dealt with. Roy 'consoles' Jim by sending him back to the station to deal with a little old lady who has been conned out of a fiver.

Jim is very adorable with the elderly lady who seems confused as to whether she was scammed or not. The money was her cigarette money and some children called looking for their mouse and distracted her. When she went to get it a little later it had gone and they'd been the only ones in the house.

Yorkie attends an address and tells them they've found a bike with their postcode. The couple are confused as they haven't lost one and their neighbours are all elderly. Viv later tells him the bike has been reported stolen by a man who has never had the bike postcoded.

Before he can deal with it, they're called to a children's home to deal with a boy who keeps going missing on a regular basis. Social Services want to move him to a secure unit to stop it but Jake does not want to go. Yorkie tries to speak to the home manager and tells him that he can only prevent a breach of the peace. Jake snaps that he's got no problems and doesn't need to go to a 'bleedin' prison!' The manager explains that he brought a knife into the home and that they now need to get him more help. Yorkie offers to attend the new home and play snooker with him once a week and Jake swears at him.

Jim is still sulking that he's lost out on millions of pounds worth of forgeries. Dashers snaps that their job is petty theft, vandals, muggers and perverts and it's what the public care about.

Nick arrives a little late and roughly £200 down that June warns he won't get back from his mileage claim. She snaps at him to stop calling her 'Ackers' and says he's frightened because he can't handle women. The boot has been tied down to stop it opening by itself.

Taffy loses his temper at having to wait for Jake to make his mind up so forces the boy to stand and marches him out the home with his arms locked behind his back. Yorkie is not happy as it upsets the other children in the home and has undone months of work gaining their trust. Taffy snaps he should have been taught a different way to behave when he was 3 and that it's too late now for him to change. Returning to Sun Hill, Taffy gets cut up and tries to order the car over. The woman driver parks outside a house, ignoring him at first before telling him to clear off and refusing a breath test. Taffy tries to arrest her and she falls over. Later Bob arrives to test her himself. Her breath test is positive but she's adamant she only had two glasses of sherry. She panics that she's going to lose her license as she's a GP.

Ted runs back into the station after court to get his prisoner out as he's still on the custody board. He's 53 minutes late, the man was let go. He goes to hit Tom but Dinesh arrives in time. Ted pushes him away and stalks off upstairs.

Yorkie goes from the home to call in at the little old lady who had been conned by the children. He finds she hadn't locked her front door whilst at the station and that she must have left her kitchen taps on cos her kitchen has flooded. He sighs and starts to clear it up.

Bob returns as Nick does and shouts at him for being late. He claims that he's late because they were in a hit and run. He says he doesn't have his details because a 'child ran in front the car' which caused him to break and that the mileage is high because they took some wrong turnings through June's navigation. Bob tells him he's only getting the 20 miles round trip that it took. As Bob and Nick turn to go in, Charles is seen looking at the back of Nick's car. "Had a bash, Shaw? What a pity...." he murmurs, not hiding his smirk.

Viv calls Yorkie and updates him that the suspected children who conned the old lady have been spotted. Yorkie tells the old dear to lock the door and he'll return later to finish cleaning up. He meets up with Jim and Dashers to catch the kids. They manage to grab two of them with Jim exacting a perfect rugby tackle to take his down. Yorkie has more of a run with his tiny one though - involving a slide that he gets stuck in for a few seconds before he runs back up the stairs again. Poor Yorkie is exhausted and the kid gets away - taunting him by waiting for him each time he stopped!

Bob wants to see if there's anything they can do for the doctor who was drunk driving but Brian won't hear of it and says it has to be followed to the letter of the law. Bob says he can think of a dozen cases off the top of his head where that isn't the case but Kite says they owe it to the men to back their judgement.

The children's parents are proving hard to track down so a teacher from the school is coming in to be their appropriate adult. Kite bollocks both boys who aren't exactly bothered. "Do I make myself clear?" "No." shrugs the eldest one who says they did it for fun. The boys father arrives and instantly hugs the youngest and shouts at Brian that they're only kids and didn't need dragging into the station.

Dashers has only managed to get Ted into a cheap Chinese restaurant, recommending the stewed carton prunes.

At the front desk, the paperboy who Robin spoke to that morning and marked the bike for is brought in by his dad - the male half of the couple that told Yorkie they hadn't lost a bike. He gets his son to tell Dinesh that he stole the bike to do his paper round on and that's why it was postcoded to them and the father asks for someone in authority to give him a right good rollocking. At the same time, the father of the two boys is shouting at Brian for daring to discipline his boys in the same way! "If you look at my boys again, I'll have you, you wanker!" Dinesh smiles. "Inspector Kite can see you now, sir."

Bob calls Nick through to speak to a man who'd had a bit of a shunt earlier and that it had been sent through to Sun Hill to deal with. On the front desk is his 'hit and run' driver who tried to swap details with him before Nick drove off...! Nick tries to pretend he doesn't know him before he realises he's dropped a proper clanger...!

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youfeltthegolux · 2 years

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Reading recap, November 2022 (Part 1)

At the start of the pandemic, I decided to do something I'd never done in all of my years of being an avid reader: actually keep track of the books I've read. Since I'm trying to be more intentional about the whole thing, I thought it might be fun to think back on what I've read, month by month. I'm going to do a longer "year in review" reflection on my favorite books I read this year in about a month and say more about my reading habits, but this is really just a series of bite-sized reviews. Some book chomps, if you will.

For the record, for the last few years I've mostly been reading books in audiobook form, and I try to use the Libby App as much as possible. Because of where I live I'm fortunate to have access to two great local public library systems. When I can't find a book in my local libraries I like to use the Libro.fm app, which allows you to buy books and choose an independent bookstore to support with your purchase, instead of your money going to the space cowboy who won't let his employees take bathroom breaks.

I tend to read a lot of historical nonfiction (especially about cold boys), sci-fi, and romance. This month I read six books, which must be some kind of record for me, and was only possible because I had a few long flights, and some of these books were fairly short. Plus I pretty much inhaled Ocean's Echo, which we'll get to in a moment. Good thing I didn't have many social obligations the first week of the month, when that book dropped.

OK, on to the books!

Ocean's Echo by Everina Maxwell

I ADORED Maxwell's first book, Winter's Orbit, which started life as an original story on AO3. (Seriously, go read it now if you haven't!) I couldn't wait for her follow-up, which I preordered on Libro.fm and guzzled down the first week of November, ignoring various responsibilities and coming up with excuses to putter around the house with my headphones in. Ocean's Echo is a queer romance space opera that's set in the same universe as Winter's Orbit but follows different characters. Tennal, a hot mess royal who has had one too many strikes against him (and can read minds) and Surit, a by-the-books military officer (who can control minds) are paired to work together for Space Plot Reasons. They're essentially commanded to meld minds, against their own wishes, but they decide to secretly refuse orders and fake their mind bond instead. Will they pull it off? Will they come to trust and love each other? WHO CAN SAY?

I so enjoyed this book and like Winter's Orbit I think Maxwell once again gives us a beautifully-crafted look into how two people, thrown together by circumstance, can come to understand and love each other. No spoilers, but there are a few moments in here, especially towards the end, that I found to be totally devastating, which is how I like things.

I also love Maxwell's writing style. I watched a virtual book talk with Maxwell and Freya Marske (which you can catch on YouTube!) and it's clear that they devote so much time to thinking through character development and finding ways to use and subvert character tropes. I will say that I thought the plot of Winter's Orbit was a touch tighter than Ocean's Echo, but that should in no way prevent you from READING THIS BOOK STAT.

One final note (wow, this is not bite-sized at all): I got the audiobook in part because I really enjoyed the audiobook version of Winter's Orbit, and Ocean's Echo was recorded by the same narrator. It's great. But the narrator used essentially the same voice for both Jainan in Winter's Orbit and Surit in Ocean's Echo, which, uh, was kind of distracting at first. FYI.

OK next book:

The Whale: A Love Story by Mark Beauregard

::cue obligatory whale noises::

The Whale is a deep dive lololol into the relationship between Herman Melville and Nathaniel Hawthorne, built on the two literary giants' letters to each other and the archival traces of their passionate feelings for each other and for each other's work that developed in the early 1850s, while both men lived in the Berkshires region of Massachusetts. This was when Melville was at work on Moby-Dick (Melville dedicated this novel to Hawthorne, whom he also described in a book review as having "[shot] his strong New-England roots into the hot soil of my Southern soul.") At its core, The Whale is about the tortures of writing, of inner life, the joy of a great work of art, and of recognizing oneself in someone else and being seen in return.

Beauregard does a wonderful job constructing conversations between Melville and Hawthorne and describing the yearning that both men expressed for each other (mostly from Melville's point of view; only his letters have survived, and Beauregard created the letters Hawthorne wrote to Melville that appear in The Whale). This book came highly recommended and I didn't love it the way I was hoping to - there are times when I thought it felt a bit stiff or disjointed, but maybe that's only because Melville and Hawthorne's relationship was, itself, full of so many torturous turns. Plus Melville's wife comes across as a one-note nagging woman who just, ya know, gets on his case to make some money so the family doesn't starve. But if you like historical fiction (non-fiction?) it's still very much worth a read.

OK, last one for this post!

Love, Hate & Clickbait by Liz Bowery (mild spoilers ahead)

Eh. This came recommended by a friend whose reading taste I TRUST (the same friend who recommended Winter's Orbit to me last year), who told me they read it in one night.

Eh.

Basically, this book is about two guys - one, a straight asshole dudebro and one, a clueless gay nerd who is very tall - who both work for the same Democratic politician, who is campaigning for the presidential nomination. When she says something homophobic and it's caught on camera, her staffers come up with the brilliant solution of making these two dudes have a fake relationship to show how cool she is with the LGBTQIA+ community.

Have you read Red, White, and Royal Blue? This is no Red, White, and Royal Blue. It's got a lot of fun tropes but the two mains are both unlikable and don't really evolve over the course of the book, other than one of them getting a haircut and the other deciding that couch sex is a good stress-reliever. I didn't really vibe with the writing style, and there's not really any "we realized something about ourselves and about love" payoff. It kind of felt like this book was rushed to market, like someone at the publisher said "I just heard a lot of straight women like reading books about two guys making out! I want one of those on my desk tomorrow morning!" There was a scene where they trip and fall into a big tower of cheese together at a farmer's market, which was cute.

Anyway, my friend who recommended this deeply betrayed me, but I still love them.

Also I heard this book started as fanfic, I'd be curious as to what fandom it's from.

Coming soon: three more book bites!

#book recommendations #book recs #ocean's echo #everina maxwell #the whale: a love story #mark beauregard #love hate & clickbait #liz bowery #my book reviews #romance #queer books #moby dick #emotional damage #audiobook

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ceilingfan5 · 3 years

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21 for taakitz, please!! thank you!

con gone wrong/bed sharing

Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. It’s baffling how bad things are right now, especially considering most of the facts look good for Taako on paper. It’s a high-paying job for an assassin like Taako, and it’s been incredibly easy to slip into the daily life of the castle as a mage-bodyguard for the Prince, soon to be King. It was nothing to forge his references and go through the tests of the Queen, and gaining the trust of everyone involved but especially the Prince has been one of the calmest jobs he’s had in a long, long time.

Too calm.

Because there’s a problem.

He’s ended up in bed with the Prince. Maybe that’s not the problem. That actually ought to be good. Taako has no less than six daggers on him even now, and it would be a piece of cake to use murder magic, has particular speciality, without leaving a trace. He could suffocate the beautiful bastard with a pillow, snap his neck with his bare hands, throw him out the fucking window, for fuck’s sake, and he’d still get the job done, get paid, move onto the next one. Things he ought to be more concerned with. He’s a coldhearted killer, always has been, always will be. He has no room for feelings. He shouldn’t be fucking capable of feelings.

He’s having feelings. Strong ones. Feelings he only barely remembers the names of, ones that make his chest feel like he’s gone and stopped his own stupid idiot heart by mistake. Prince Kravitz, so trusting, so soft, so vulnerable, is laying in bed with him, his arm comfortably thrown around Taako, saccharine and cloying and suffocating. He’s honestly frozen, unsure what to do. How to go on. He hasn’t been touched gently in a decade, maybe longer, and he craves more to a degree that frightens his dead heart.

He doesn’t even understand how it happened. He reviews the facts--they came up for dinner, the thunderstorm started in earnest, Kravitz admitted his fear despite knowing he had nothing to worry about. He confessed that Taako makes him feel safe. Stupid, stupid, gorgeous fool.

“Could you stay with me tonight, instead of keeping watch?” he’d whispered.

“You don’t have to stay in the chair,” he’d said. “There’s so much room in my bed.”

“It’s more comfortable than yours, isn’t it?” His voice is always so warm and sweet. In a manner of speaking. Taako doesn’t eat sweets. Hasn’t ever. He has to imagine it’s an apt comparison.

“We don’t have to get close, if that makes you uncomfortable.” Clueless. Privileged. Sheltered. Kind.

“I’m so glad I’ve met you, Taako,” he’d said, honesty and openness glittering in his soft brown eyes. Nothing in this world has had the chance to harden him like it’s hardened Taako, and he hates him for it. “I know I can trust you.”

He shouldn’t trust Taako. Taako has to carve that big dumb heart right out of his chest and eat it whole. There are dire consequences if he doesn’t. But he never, ever could have expected Kravitz would hand it over, still-beating, with a silky ribbon around it, tied neatly in a bow. Taako doesn’t think he’s ever gotten a gift he didn’t take for himself off a corpse.

It’s almost enough to remind Taako’s heart to flutter into motion, squeezing in an ugly, desperate way, trying to start again from less than nothing. With a warm arm around him, he almost feels like a person instead of a killing machine, and that’s a very, very big problem.

Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. Taako needs to kill this Prince. But he’s starting to think he might be in love.

#taakitz #taakitz fic #taz #tazb #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #this is queued #im at work #i have intense feelings about this.#listen it's about being treated like a person for once #usually i give taako the thunder fear. maybe krav was just anglin for some snuggles

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

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The Proposal ~ T.H

chapter six: the end

Synopsis: fake marriage, real trouble

Series Masterlist

A week later, you sat in a hotel room in Canada with papers all around you. The process to becoming a citizen was a long one, so you wanted to get started right away. You were pulled away from your work momentarily when you heard a knock at your door.

“Who is it?” You called out.

“Room service.” A muffled voice called back. You furrowed your eyebrows before going to the door to inspect the random visitor.

“I didn’t order any-“

You opened the door to see Tom in his regular clothes with a Starbucks cup in hand. You didn’t have to drink from the cup to know it was a matcha latte.

“Good morning.” He smiled shyly and held the cup out. “This is for you.”

“Tom?” You asked in disbelief. “How did you get here?”

You took the cup from him to be polite and took a sip, smiling a little at the correct order.

“I followed the yellow brick road.” He said simply. You gave him an unamused look and took a long sip of your drink.

“Sorry. Was that a bad time for a witch joke? It feels like it was a bad time. Oh God.” He began to panic and looked down at the ground.

“It’s fine.” You assured him. “But what are you doing here?”

“I came to get you back.” He told you. “The office isn’t the same without you.”

You stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. Part of you couldn’t believe he had flown all the way to Canada just to try to get you back, but another part of you knew that was exactly the kind of thing Tom would do.

“And also, I really miss you.” He added quietly. “I really, really, miss you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” You admitted, bringing a smile out of him. He pulled out an unused barf bag out of his pocket suddenly and you noticed that he had written all over it.

“Sorry. I came up with this whole speech on the plane and I didn’t want to forget it.” He cleared his throat before beginning to read off the bag. “I know why you ran away. You ran because you were scared. You’re scared of being a part of a family again and allowing someone to love you. Am I right?”

“You might be a little right.” You mumbled as you adverted your eyes.

“You’re scared of having people who love you in spite of all your efforts to shut them out.” He continued. “You’re scared of that because you want it more than anything.”

He folded the bag suddenly and shoved it back into his pocket, deciding to speak from the heart instead. He took your hands in his, prompting you to look at him.

“It’s all here.” He said sincerely. “It’s waiting for you. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

“And what about when it’s not there anymore?” You asked in a weak voice. “When it goes away, like every good thing does, then what? Who’s gonna love me then?”

“I know you think it’s been a long time since you’ve been a part of a family, but it hasn’t.” Tom told you. “You and me sharing that office the past two years, that was the start of our family. All the late nights we spent reading page after page. Every moment you took to teach me something so that I could be better at my job, so I could be like you. All of that was us, you and me, being a family.”

“No it wasn’t.” You pulled your hands out of his. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“You told me you were falling in love with me.” He ignored your efforts to make him leave. “Did you mean that?”

“Yes.” You said after a minute of silence.

“I meant it too.” He smiled softly.

“You don’t love me.” You sighed. “You don’t even know me, Tom.”

“But I want to.” He insisted. “Despite every effort you’ve made to shut me out, I’ve spent the past two years trying to know you. And every time you let me in just a little, I’m reminded why I never stopped trying.”

“You’re not in love with me. You just have some school boy crush.”

“I started as that.” He agreed. “But it’s different now. It’s real now.”

“Don’t you get it? This doesn’t change anything.” You gestured between the two of you. “Even if we developed feelings for each other, our engagement is still fake. You could still go to jail. I care about you and your family too much to risk that.”

“Okay, here me out.” Tom began. “Could jail really be that bad?”

“Oh my God.” You groaned and tried to shut the door.

“And it’s not even guaranteed I’d go to jail.” He continued as he held your door open. “Chances are, the IRCC never finds out that the marriage started as a scam.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying it’s worth the risk to me. I would risk potentially going to jail to give us the time we deserve. Because I do love you.” He promised. “And I know you love me. As much as you don’t want those things to be true, they are. So suck it up, and let me love you. For Gods sake, woman.”

“I’m sorry, was that a proposal?”

“I’m sorry.” He rubbed his eyes. “There are like 500 hotels in Canada and I was up all night trying to find the one you were in.”

“It’s okay.” You chuckled a little.

“Let me try again.” He asked before getting down on one knee. “Y/n, will you marry me so that we can date?”

“What if we don’t work out?” You fear as you chewed your bottom lip.

“What if we do?” He shrugged.

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” You chuckled.

“Is that a yes?” He asked hopefully.

“Yes.” You rolled your eyes at him. “I’ll marry you.”

“Did she say yes?” Sams voice came from somewhere in the hallway.

“Shut up!” Harry answered him. “I can’t hear.”

“Both of you, knock it off.” Nikki snapped her fingers. “I can’t hear her answer.”

You looked at Tom with a raised eyebrow as he got off his knee.

“Okay, my family is in the hallway.” He admitted. “But it wasn’t my idea. They begged me to come along.”

“All of them?” You asked.

“They really missed you.” He shrugged, making your face light up.

“I said yes!” You yelled out, loud enough for the family to hear. They all came rushing into your room and enveloped you in a group hug, cheering and crying over the news.

“We’re getting married!” Tom yelled over his family’s cheers.

“Fuck the government!” You yelled back before pulling him into a long, reunion kiss.

One month later

“And now, the vows.” The priest said as he took a step back.

You were standing across from Tom on the alter in his aunts hotel on your highly anticipated wedding day. You’d been staying in the UK on “vacation” as you planned your wedding, adding in a few more details now that you had more time. You were still in Nikki’s wedding dress, but this time, you were wearing Toms old tennis shoes. Paddy had lent you a blue handkerchief of his, which you had tied into your hair. Your entire office had come out to see you, all of them insisting they’d never miss your big day. Best of all, Tom was fresh off getting lovely reviews from the media after his book was received by the public.

“Tom.” You began your vows. “You are the most patient person I have ever met. You have overcome everything I’ve thrown your way with grace and resilience. And I have thrown a lot. I even threw a pencil sharpener at his head once.”

You paused to let the crowd laugh at you joke, even though you weren’t joking.

“Over the past two years, you have been by my side every single day without fail. And after today, you’ll be be my side for the rest of my life.” You continued with a smile. “And I couldn’t be happier about that. I’m so lucky to have found someone who refuses to give up on me. To have found the first person to take the time to get to know me, despite every effort I made to never let such a thing happen. Tom looked past all the walls I put up and decided I was someone who was worth getting to know, and for that I’ll forever be grateful. I’ll forever be grateful for a lot of things he’s done.”

“I did not like Y/n for a long time.” Tom began, making the guests laugh. “I thought she was mean and cold and weird for drinking matcha. Like, who lives in England and doesn’t drink tea? I’ll never understand it. But I’ll never understand a lot of things about Y/n. Like how I can’t stay mad at her, even when she throws things at my head. Or how right when I think I have her figured out, she does something completely out of nowhere. Like publishing my book that I didn’t even know she read. Y/n may come off as mean and frigid, but she’s not. She’s actually really sweet when she wants to be. But only when she wants to be. And if you’re lucky enough to gain her trust, she’ll let you in. And that’s when you’ll meet the one the most intelligent, passionate, beautiful, bitchiest women in the world. And you’ll fall just as deeply in love with her as I have.”

You smiled brightly at Tom as a tear of joy slipped from your eye. He reached forward to wipe it with his thumb as the priest went on.

“Do you, Tom, take Y/n to be your lawfully wedded wife?” He asked. “To have and to hold, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Y/n, take Tom to be your lawfully wedded husband? In sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“If anyone should have any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

You held your breath and looked at the crowd, anticipating at least one person to object. To your surprise, there was not one dry eye in the house. Everyone, including your employees, was in tears. You looked back at Tom in disbelief and he gave you a wink.

“By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The priest said. “You may kiss your spouse.”

Tom was quick to put his hands on your face and pull you into a kiss, as he had been anticipated it from the moment you walked down the isle. You kissed him back as the crowd erupting into applause and cheers. Once the pictures were taken and the final words were said, you ran down the isle hand in hand.

The reception was held in a room right next store as Toms family and your employees gathered together. You changed into a casual white slip dress and kept your tennis shoes on so you could be more comfortable. After the reception and a few goodbyes to his family, you drove back to your apartment to spend the night.

“I can’t believe it.” Tom sighed happily as you walked through the front door. “We’re really married.”

“Not yet.” You reminded him as you rested your hands on his shoulders. “Our appointment is at 8 am tomorrow at city hall. Harry said he’d be our witness.”

“You made my family really happy today.” He smiled up at you while his fingers drummed your waistline. “They really like having you around.”

“I like them.” You replied. “I’m honored to be a Holland.”

“You don’t have to change your last name if you don’t want to.” He said softly. “I know it’s a sexist tradition and everything. I wouldn’t be offended if you kept yours.”

“Tom, I want to take your last name.” You chuckled. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the last name of someone who loved me.”

A fond smile tugged at Toms lips before he stepped forward. He silently pulled you into kiss, letting his rough fingers spread across your face. You tugged him by the tie as you stumbled back into your bedroom, never letting your lips leave his. Tom pulled away for a moment to pull his tie over his head and place it around your neck, using it to pull you closer as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“You know.” You smiled against his lips. “We might just get away with this.”

“Oh, darling.” He sighed happily. “I think we already have.”

Three years later

“Hello. My name is Sandra.” Your IRCC agent sat in front of you and smiled tightly. “I’ll be handling your case today. You two must be Mr. and Mrs.-“

“Holland.” You finished her sentence with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well.” She nodded and shook yours and Toms hand. “I see you’re applying for naturalisation.”

“Yes, sir.” You replied. “I would like an adjustment of status for my citizenship.”

“I see.” She said as she looked over your file. “How long have the two of you been married?”

“Three years.” Tom answered.

“Have you lived in the UK the whole time?” Sandra asked.

“Yes, we have.” You nodded as you slipped your fingers through Toms. He brought your enjoined hands to his lap and held them there while his leg anxiously bounced.

“And you both work?”

“Yes.” Tom said. “We’re the chief editors at the Bullock Publishing Company.”

“And Toms a published author.” You added. “A successful one, too.”

“Wow. Chief editors.” Sandra raised her eyebrows. “So, are you familiar with the process of naturalization?”

“Yes. I have all my forms right here.” You handed her a folder full of your processing forms.

“And you passed the life in the UK test?” She asked as she looked through the folder.

“On her first try.” Tom added. “She didn’t even have to study.”

“Have you ever broken a law?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. “Not even a speeding ticket.”

“Hm.” Sandra looked between the two of you skeptically. “How long were you together before you were married?”

“Two years.” Tom answered. That was the only part you had to lie about, but the rest of your story was truthful. You’d been living in the UK for the past three years as Toms wife, and now it was time to become a real citizen. Sandra looked between the two of you again, not liking how seemingly perfect your story was.

“We met at work.” Tom added when he sensed the doubt. “I used to be her assistant.”

“He stills gets my coffee for me, though.” You smiled at him. “Even after three years of working in the same position as me, he gets my coffee like he’s my assistant. Isn’t that sweet?”

“I don’t mind.” Tom insisted. “After we were married, she changed her coffee order to match mine. Cute, right?”

“We drink tea, actually.” You piped up. “Because who would live in the UK but not drink tea?”

You gulped loudly as Toms leg continued to bounce. You’d managed to get away with it for three years, and you could only hope this meeting wouldn’t jeopardize everything.

“Okay.” Sandra sighed and put your forms down. “We’ll review your case and get back to you in the next few months.”

“Okay.” You smiled nervously. “Thank you so much.”

You grabbed Toms hand and pulled him out of the office as fast as you could.

“She didn’t suspect anything.” Tom said once you were in the car. “I think we actually got away with this.”

“I know.” You laughed in disbelief. “Did we just successfully pull off a fake marriage?”

Tom quieted down all the sudden, looking down at his lap before staring out the window.

“Do you...do you still think it’s fake?” He asked quietly without looking at you.

“Tom, no.” You put your hand on his face and made him look at you. “The engagement was fake. Or, for fake reasons. But the marriage is real to me. It’s been real to me since your mom walked in on us kissing that one day.”

Tom smiled a little a nodded, feeling better now that you reassured him. He took your hand off his face and kissed it as he held eye contact with you.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” He smiled sheepishly. “I was just wondering because I always thought of it as real.”

“Okay, good.” You squeezed his hand. “Then we’re on the same page.”

6 months later, you found a letter from the government addressed to you in the mailbox. You opened it as you walked back inside the house, freezing in your tracks when you realized what it was.

“Whats that, darling?” Tom asked when he noticed your expression.

“The Home Office approved my citizenship.” You looked up at him with wide eyes. “I passed. I’m officially a UK citizen.”

“What?!” He rushed towards you and scooped you into a hug. “Thats incredible. Congratulations.”

“I can’t believe it.” You squeezed him tightly as tears of joy streamed down your face. “I’m a citizen. This is amazing.”

Tom pulled away to give you a congratulatory kiss. He pressed kisses all over your face as you giggled in his arms.

“Wait.” He let go of you with a sad look on his face. “What does this mean for us?”

“What do you mean?” You wondered.

“Well, you’re a citizen now. Technically, you don’t need to be married to me.” Tom said quietly. You gave him a sympathetic look and stroked his cheek with your thumb.

“I know.” You told him. “But I want to be.”

“You do?” He asked hopefully. “You still do, even though you don’t have to?”

“I do.” You promised. “I told you, this is real to me.”

“Okay.” He sighed in relief. “Good.”

“You don’t have to worry about me running anymore, Tom. You’re my family now.” You smiled softly and rested your hand on his face. “And I’m not anywhere.”

“Me either.” He said as he pulled you into a hug. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

THE END

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#tom holland x reader #Tom Holland x you #tom holland smut #Tom Holland fake dating #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x you #spiderman

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davidmann95 · 3 years

Note

Sooo… Superman and the Authority?

magnus-king123 asked: Your thoughts on Superman & the authority Give it to me...lol

Anonymous asked: Seeing Bezos take his little trip into space the same day Morrison puts out a Superman comic that touches on how far we’ve fallen from the days when we dreamed of utopian futures where everyone explored the stars was a big gut punch. Not used to Superman being topical in that way.

Anonymous asked: What'd you think of Superman and the Authority#1?

This is far beyond what I can fit in the normal weekly reviews, so taking this as my notes on the first six pages, with this and this as my major lead-in thoughts:

* Janin's such a perfect fit for Morrison - the scale, the power, the facial expressions selling the character work, the screwing around with the panel formatting as necessary to sell the effect, the numinous sense of things going on larger than you can fully perceive amidst the beauty and chaos. It's a shame he wasn't around 25 years ago to draw JLA, but I'll take him going with Morrison onto other future projects.

* His intro action sequence is such a great demonstration of why Black actually does have something to offer, and also how he's such a dumbass desperately needing Superman to save him from himself.

* While Jordie Bellaire didn't legit go with an entirely monochromatic palate the way early previews suggested, it's still an effect frequently and excellently deployed here. And glad to see Steve Wands carry into this from Blackstars since there's such an obvious carryover from its work with Superman.

* "Gentlemen. Ladies. Others." Great both because of the obvious - hey, Superman's nodding at me! - and because it's a phrasing that reinforces that this take on him (and let's be real Morrison) is old as hell.

* I'm mostly past caring about whether this is an alt-Earth Superman until it becomes indisputable one way or another, this and Action both rule so what does it really matter? But while there are still a couple signs in play suggesting some kind of division (the Action Comics #1036 cover, Midnighter up to time-travel shenanigans) the "lost in time" quote clearly thrown in after the fact to explain how he could have met Kennedy outside of 5G that wouldn't be necessary for an Elseworlds, the assorted gestures towards Superman's current status quo, the Kingdom Come symbol appearing in Action, and that Morrison would have had to completely rewrite the ending if this wasn't supposed to be 'the' version of Clark Kent going forward as was the intent when they first planned it all say to me that no, no fooling around, this is our guy going forward one way or another.

* Janin and Bellaire making the first version of the crystal Fortress ever that actually looks as cool as you want it to.

Anonymous asked: I like that Superman and The Authority is basically the anti-All-Star; instead of the laid back, immortal Superman who is supercharged, we have a stressed, ageing Superman whose tremendous powers are fading. The former will always be there to save us, but the latter is running out of time and needs to pull off a Hail Mary. Also, he mentions in his monologue to Black that he was "lost in time" when he met JFK, so maybe he is the main continuity Clark. Or he's the t-shirt Supes from Sideways.

* You're absolutely right - the power reversal is obvious and the ticking clock in play seemingly isn't for his own survival but everyone around him as he wakes up and realizes all the old icons grew complacent with the gains they'd made and he's not leaving behind the world he meant to. Both, however, are built on the idea of preparing the world to not need them anymore - it'll still have a Superman in his son, but that'll only work because of the others he empowers and inspires. The question is what happens to Clark if he's not going to live in the sun for 83000 years.

* Clark's 'exercise' here does more to sell me on the idea of Old Man Superman as a cool idea than however many decades of Earth 2 stuff.

* Intergang being noted alongside Darkseid and Doomsday speaks to how much Kirby informed Morrison's conception of Superman.

* This isn't exactly the most progressive in its disability politics but at least it makes clear Black's being a piece of shit about it.

* It's startling how much Clark can get away with saying stuff in here you'd never expect to come out of Superman's mouth. "I made an executive decision" "Privacy, really...?" "You have nowhere to go, Black. Nothing to live for." "There are few people in my life who I instinctively and viscerally dislike, and you've always been one of them." It only works because there's zero aggression behind it, he's just past the point of niceties and being totally frank while making clear none of these assessments preclude that he cares and is going to unconditionally do the right thing every time. He is absolutely, per Morrison, humanity's dad picking us up when we're too drunk to drive ourselves home.

* The story doesn't put a big flashing light over it, but it's not even a little bit subtle having the material threat of the issue be a ticking timebomb left by the carelessness and hubris of generations past.

* Manchester keeps trying to poke the bear and prove his hot takes about Superman and it's just not working. The front he put up under Kelley is gone after decades of defeats, and as Morrison understands what actually conceptually works about him as a rival to Superman underneath the aging nerd paranoia he's exposed as what he absolutely would be in 2021: a dude with a horrific terminal case of Twitter brainworms. I was PANICKED when I heard there was an 'offensive term' joke in this, I was braced for Morrison at their well-meaning worst, but it's such a goddamn perfect encapsulation of a very specific breed of Twitter leftist who uses their politics first and foremost as a cudgel and justification to label their abrasive, judgmental shittiness as self-righteousness (plus it's a killer payoff to a joke from way back in his original appearance). Cannot believe they pulled that off when they're so very, very open about basically not knowing how the internet works.

* @charlottefinn: Manchester Black using his telekinetic powers to force someone he hates to fave a problematic tweet so that he can screenshot it and start a dogpile

@intergalactic-zoo: “Once they cancel Bibbo, Superman won’t be *anyone’s* fav’rit anymore!”

* Friend noted this issue had to be fully the conversation because the whole premise stands on the house of cards of these two somehow working together, and with three 'silent' inset panels the creative team pulls off that turning point.

* So much of this feels on the surface like Morrison bringing back the All-Star vibes with Clark, but when he drops a "That's all you got?" in a brawl you realize what's underlining that bluntness and confidence in the face of failure is that deep down this is still the Action guy too. This dude ain't gonna get wrecked in his Fortress while the other guy chuckles about him being A SOFT WEE SCIENTIST'S SON!

* Bringing up Jor-El made me realize that Morrison already spelled out that this is the final threat to Superman, what he faces at the end of the road:

"Now it's your turn, Superman."

* A l'il Superman 2000/All-Star reference with the Phantom Zone map!

* There's so much intertextuality going on here even by Morrison standards - Change or Die with the old hero putting together a team of morally nebulous folks out to 'fix' everything, Flex Mentallo with the muscleman trying to redeem the punk, Doomsday Clock with the fate of the world hinging on whether Superman can get through to a meta stand-in for an idea of 'modern' comics cynicism, DKR and New Frontier and Kingdom Come and Multiversity and Seven Soldiers and What's So Funny and All-Star and Action and the last 5 years of monthly Superman comics and Authority and probably Jupiter's Legacy and Tom Strong - but none of that's needed. You could go in with the baseline pop cultural understanding of the character and not care about any of the inside baseball shit and get that this is a story about a leader of a generation that let down the people they made all their grand promises to as inertia and day-to-day demands and complacency let him be satisfied with the accomplishments they'd made long ago, looking at a new era and seeing the ways its own activists are dropping the ball. The only thing that fundamentally matters in a "you have to accept you're reading a superhero story" sense is that because he's Superman he's willing to own up to it and listen to people who might know better about some things and try to set things right while he and those who'll take his place still have a chance. And yes, the oldster looking back on their legacy with a skeptical eye and hoping for better from the next generation, hoping most of all that their little heir apparent can fulfill the promise inside of him instead of being a provocating little shitkicker, is obviously also autobiographical.

* The overlaying Kennedy reprisal is such a great visual of a sudden intrusive thought.

* The Kryptonite secret is the obvious "This is going to matter!" moment, but "He lied about his son" is a bit that doesn't connect to anything going on right now so maybe that's important here too? More significantly, the Justice League can't actually be the villains here but that Ultra-Humanite's crew are in an Earth-orbiting satellite makes pretty clear what's up.

* I've said before that between Superman, OMAC, and a New Gods-affiliated speedster this was going to use all of Morrison's favorite things. King Arthur playing a role isn't exactly dissuading me.

* Love the idea that all the antiheroes have their own community in the same way as the capes and tights crew. They definitely all privately think the rest are posers though and that they alone are Garth Ennis Punisher in a mob of Garth Ennis Wolverines.

* Manchester's fallen so far he's gone from trying to convince Superman to kill to convince him to dunk on people for their bad takes and Clark just doesn't get it. Official prediction of dialogue for upcoming issues:

"According to these bloody Fortress scans, the only thing that can restore your powers is an unfiltered hit of dopamine. Don't worry, Doctor Black has a few ideas."

"Hmm. Maybe I'll plant a nice tree?"

"...fuck you."

* Ok I already talked about how great the Fortress looks in here but LOVE this library.

* A pair of pages this seems like the right spot to discuss from Black's original appearance that underlines both his and Superman's inadequacies up to this point:

Responding to the problem of "the government and penal system are hopelessly corrupt" neither of them has any actual notion of what to do about it in spite of their respective posturing beyond how to handle individual outside actors - each is in their own way every bit as small-minded and reactionary as the other. Clark's coming around though, and he's holding out hope for the other guy.

* Superman: Have a lovely mineral water :) proper hydration is important :)

Manchester Black: *Is a dude who can get so mad he vomits and passes out. At water.*

* That last page is the one to beat for the year, and does more to put over the idea of this as an Authority book than that Midnighter and Apollo are literally going to show up. It also feels like Morrison tacitly acknowledging all the ways the premise could go or at least be received wrong - from Superman saying 'enough is enough' to who he's bringing into the fold to go about it - in the most beautifully on-the-nose fashion imaginable. Maybe they'll save us all! Or maybe they'll drown us in their vomit.

#Superman and The Authority #Superman #The Authority #Manchester Black #Grant Morrison #Mikel Janin #Jordie Bellaire #Steve Wands #Opinion

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stxleslyds · 3 years

Text

MY TOUGHTS ON PART THREE OF RED HOOD BY CHIP ZDARSKY :)

A DC RENDITION OF THE SONG “MOTHER KNOWS BEST” FROM TANGLED.

Here I will leave the links to my reviews of Part 1 and Part 2

Well, here we are, three issues in this story of only six parts and i still cant tell if i like it or not. What i know for sure tho is that Zdarsky never read any Red Hood books, i had my suspicions but now i am at least 95% sure.

This Jason has been nerfed. We had a perfectly balanced Jason back in 2005 he was smart, skilled, confident and strategic. Then from 2011 to 2020 (let’s put the fact that Lobdell is trash aside for a moment) Jason was skilled, he had the whole “chosen one” thing going on with the all-castle, and in some moments you could even see him being quick witted and confident. But now in this first half of this story he is extremely insecure, his skill set and expertise is barely there and is presented as just reckless.

The other day i was talking about how DC treats Jason, how they just can’t decide on who he is, what motivates him or what he wants. His personality is a whole ass mess, it was fine in 2005 and 2010 when Winick wrote him but then Lobdell from years 2011 to 2020 just couldn't decide what he wanted to do with Jason or his relationship with Batman and his rules. After Lobdell finally left Jason was passed around people who either only read Lobdell's work, or didn't read anything from him or didn't take into account Jason's life because their book was set in a future that may never happen.

What i am trying to say is that Jason doesn't have a personality, and writers don't really add things to the Jason that we “know”, what they do is start his story from zero over and over again. There is no consistency to Jason's character and while you could argue that maybe this new start could be the definite version of Jason Todd/Red Hood i will point out that this nerfed version of him is a major disservice to the character that he was when he was brought back to DC.

It’s simply not nice.

And in this particular issue the “Jason isn't that good at this whole vigilante gig” is even more pushed because of the whole “batman knows best” bullshit. I am not getting this (anthologies) book with a Red Hood story just for Batman to come in and be like “I am actually good at this job, you know nothing AND i have the moral high-ground”, this is NOT it.

If you are reading a Red Hood story chances are that you will be interested in Red Hood not Batman.

Oh one more thing, Jason was an excellent Robin. He was kind, smart and skilled. I liked the flashbacks in UtRH because it showed Jason being all that but he also understood a couple of things about the kind of criminals that Gotham had, your common thug is easily scared of the concept of Batman but the dress-ups knew that no matter what they did the Bat would never kill them, that’s what Jason thought about criminals there.

This Robin Jason is treated rather poorly by Zdarsky at times, he feels insecure and inferior to Dick but he is also dismissive of him and the Robin mantle in the first issue, now in this one he is shown as way too reckless (which is kinda bad because it feeds into DCs favorite trope of “Jason’s death was Jason’s fault”) and his stance on “low level” criminals is weird, like it was made clear that drug related criminals are Jason’s biggest issue, thieves were not.

Those are my general thoughts on this issue and the current state of Jason’s characterization. I have some panels from this issue that i want to talk about in more depth tho, so here we go.

The issue stars were we left off once more, Tyler defends Jason and when Batman asks who he is Tyler says that he is the Blue Hood, that was really sweet of him, that child is adorable and he needs to be protected.

Once the Bat distracts Tyler Jason tells the Bat that the man he killed was Tyler’s dad.

There are a couple of things i want to point out from these panels, Jason feels incredibly guilty, not about killing Andy but about leaving Tyler in a situation that is similar to the one he was left in when his own mother died. He still believes that Andy was not a good man and deserved to be dead, after all he was drugging his own son and was the reason Tyler’s mom overdosed and is now in the hospital. It just hits incredibly close to home for Jason and i understand completely.

The other thing i want to point out is that Jason says “I know your rules. No killing in Gotham” so, this is (to me) confirmation that Jason hasn’t killed in a long time and that he has been sticking to the Bat's rules (at least in Gotham). Andy (a drug-dealer) is the only person that Jason has killed since the events of UtRH (that are apparently canon in this story because it was mentioned in the first issue).

Following this conversation the Bat says that he will take care of Tyler’s mother (yikes, i really thought in my last post that Jason was the one who would have tried to get her the help she needed, to me it seems more appropriate if Jason does it given that this is his story but what do I know)

This is where this Red Hood story transforms into the Batman show.

Not only will Bruce take care of Tyler's mom but he will clean up the mess and shut down the making of the drug all by himself. Jason tells him that he will do it but the Bat tells Jason that if he wants to do it they will have to do it together because there is no way he is letting Jason out of his sight, he made a mess!

Yes, nothing like making the lead character look incompetent at his job. Love that for Jason.

Before the team up starts Batman and Red Hood go to Leslie's place to leave Tyler with her. This is a good moment only because there is a dog involved, well…Tyler, Jason and a dog are involved, best panel in the whole issue? I think yes.

Maybe I have a couple more panels that are my favs in this issue, here they are, a lil bit of positivity in this extra bitter post.

Now I will be honest, I hate Batman (Bruce’s Batman, love Dick Bats he was the MVP) so him saying that he is helping a Robin makes me want to shoot him. You are not helping; you are overtaking, as you do. Never a team player, the Batgod must always be the center of the show.

Back in the new cave Bruce talks to Jason about the drug and who he thinks might be behind it's production. He also makes sure to let Jason know that he is very smart and might be the only person outside of Crane's circle that knows how analyze a very unstable compound…weird flex but okay. He also teases Jason about his detective skills. Yay.

Flashback time! Get ready!

Robin Jason and Batman are at a crime scene and Jason doesn’t seem to be in the mood to play CSI: Gotham with Bruce.

At one moment Jason says “and then we will stomp the guy who did this” (“this” being murder), which makes Jim Gordon (who came to see if batman was done playing Sherlock Holmes) uncomfortable, so Batman tells Jason to wait for him. As Jason is going he sees someone acting suspicious.

Back to present day Batman and Red Hood are visiting the woman that created the compound that makes Fear Gas, the interrogation starts well but because this is the Batman show and Jason is bad at reading people and asking questions we have a scene that shows Jason being a bit too much.

I honestly thought that the first question was fair, but then after they leave the office they were in Batman basically goes on a rant about the things that Jason missed.

Ok, I get it Batman = good vigilante. Red Hood = Incompetent.

Zdarsky is honestly trying to make us believe that Jason hasn’t picked up any of those things, in his years as Robin with Batman AND Nightwing? They both taught him, there is no way Jason doesn’t know the basics of how to read people. Also do you guys remember Jason in UtRH and Lost Days? That guy read people perfectly, how is UtRH canon in this story, did Jason lose his skills in the explosion when he blew up the Joker?

As if that wasn’t enough Batman calls Red Hood reckless after they don’t agree on what to do next.

To this I say the following: Never again make me believe that Jason will willingly work with Batman. They don’t work together and neither are willing to meet each other halfway, even less let the other lead. This makes the idea of Jason following the Bat’s rules and him being part of the “Batfamily” the joke that it actually is.

They don’t work well together anymore; bring duality back to Gotham 2021.

Back in the past where the previous flashback is resumed we have Jim telling Batman that the new Robin seems a bit too rough around the edges. Did Jim ever meet Dick as Robin? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Dick was a sweetheart but he also beat criminals alongside batman every night. It just doesn’t feel like what Jason said was that much of a violent statement or anything, maybe I just don’t get it.

But don’t worry if you don’t get it, because we are shown Robin Jason going after that suspicious man, he is beating him asking if he knows anything about the murder or what exactly he was doing so close to the crime scene when Batman arrives. Through Batman we are told that that man was no longer a criminal, to which Jason says this, “…The guy is a jewel thief! He will always be a thief” and Batman responds “I refuse to believe that. Didn’t I meet you in the middle of stealing the Batmobile’s tires?”

I can’t believe Bruce went full “It’s over Jason. I have the moral high ground” on Robin Jason.

I mean Jason is OOC, we know this, but he has to be that way in order to make Batman look better when compared to a child. DC hates Jason Todd #Confirmed.

It kinda reminds me of that thing DC does with Dick and Barbara, Dick is skilled and smart as long as Barbara isn’t in the room, if she is then Dick will forget to check if there is someone inside his apartment and then be thrown across the room by her and then be told that he sucks at putting security in his living space.

Moving on...back to the present one last time Jason is interrogating a man while he dangles him from the edge of a building (did Dick teach him that? I bet he did.) After getting some information he calls Oracle so he can make sure that the place he is going to is safe. Oracle tells him the she will help him but she did not like the fact that the last time she helped him someone ended up dead.

Now, fair warning, Barbara and Jason big NO for me and after Geoff Johns and his antics in Three Jokers I have zero love for their “team-ups”.

Jason says this,

Believing in him? Excuse me? Chonky, baby, she only helped you find a building.

All I can do at this point is pray to whichever god or whoever hears that this does not lead to Jason pinning for Barbara. We don’t need it (Barbara doesnt need it), I might be overreacting, I hope I am, but nobody wants that kind of drama right now, thanks.

When he arrives to the place he was looking for I think everyone can tell that it’s a trap, everyone but Jason apparently.

How on earth does Jason not realize it’s a trap up until it’s too late? Are you joking? Is this a Red Hood story? Are we really doing this? Just how incompetent is Jason in Zdarsky’s eyes?

Freeze…is it Freeze? I don’t care but he is there, he freezes Jason and that’s the end of the issue.

Listen, I wish I could say that this is the worst Jason has been treated and that this book is horrible, I wish but I can’t. I can’t do it because this isn’t the worst characterization or book of Jason, this is still a pretty good story, could it be better? Yes.

I mean this story is written by someone who obviously doesn’t know Jason and that sucks but it still isnt the worst characterization and it messes me up. Three Jokers was worse than this, certain plot decisions in Future State: Red Hood were worse than this (in my opinion) and Lobdell’s New52 RHatO was pure trash (that is the worst book, just horrible please dont read it).

I am saying this only to make it clear that even tho this issue was painful (mostly if you don’t like Batman) I still have hope that it can turn out to be good. I cant help it, i want and need this story to be good and there is still time for it to get better.

Alright thats all i have to say, let me know what you thought about this issue and my review, bye!

#jason todd #red hood #batman urban legends #urban legends red hood #dc comics #red hood outlaw #robin jason todd

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hange-zone · 3 years

Note

May I please have some Eremin Hades/Persephone au? With Eren as dread Persephone and Armin as the overworked king of the underworld?

SIX MONTHS IN THE GARDEN OF HADES

In a strange twist of fate, the lord of the underworld was five foot five and had a shock of blond hair.

“You kidnapped me!” Eren sounded incredulous. He scowled at the person - barely older than a boy - whose office (realm?) he had just been thrown into. The blond boy, seated at the ornate desk, looked up from his paperwork with a bored expression on his face. Eren stood up, brushing the dirt off his clothes and collected himself, managing to sound incredibly composed despite having just fallen through a crack in the earth and tumbled right down to hades. “That’s so wrong. Wait till my sister finds out - you’ll be dead.”

That sounded like a threat, but it struck Armin as terribly ironic. He laughed. “I’ll look forward to it.”

If looks could kill he guessed that the glare that the other boy had shot him might have actually struck him dead, but he was the god of the underworld and of the dead and honestly? Trifle things like that didn’t matter.

So he dismissed the glowering boy with a flick of his wrist and went back to poring over his spreadsheets.

ii.

When they next meet Eren’s hands were sticky and he wished very hard that he could cough out his last meal.

Armin glanced up at him, then back to his work. “I’m guessing you had some of the fruits from my garden?”

“I was hungry,” Eren protested. “You don’t even have -”

“Six months.” Armin interrupted. He didn’t look up, still scribbling as his eyes scanned over the reports and administrative data. Why do people keep dying? he wondered, briefly, before turning his attention back to the boy before him. “You don’t even need food. But you’ve eaten them, you do the time, that’s just how it works, et cetera. Besides, didn’t anyone ever warn you?”

“Fuck you,” Eren replied.

iii.

Wandering around the palace grounds, which were not entirely to his liking, being all dark marble and jagged rock - as well as gaudy displays of gemstones and glittering metal that made his eyes hurt - Eren found himself settling by the shallow pool and watching his reflection in the black water.

It seems like a cruel trick, to make the earth open up and take him here and then just...leave him alone? What was Hades even thinking? And why was he a lanky teenage boy? That was possibly more confusing.

Suddenly, a mop of blond hair appeared behind him. He jumped. “You scared the shit out of me,” he said accusatorially to the figure, frowning.

“Sorry,” Armin offered. Up close he looked far less intimidating - beneath the grand robes his shoulders were rounded and he was skinny and rather small. His clothes seemed to overwhelm him. His wide blue eyes were deep-set and there were tired, dark circles against the pale flesh of his face. He drew in a long breath and sighed. Eren noticed that he was biting his dry lips nervously.

“Walk with me?” the lord of the underworld asked. Despite himself, Eren obliged, nodding slowly and letting the boy help him to his feet.

They made their way through the sprawling grounds in silence, trodding through the soft earth. They walked past abandoned gazebos with doric columns, round a winding path with dead and rotting trees and grey leaves which crunched underfoot, away from the black obsidian building which loomed across everything in the landscape. The dead fluttered around them.

Eventually they came to a pier. Armin leant against the railings, gaze fixed on the river. The water was dark as it rushed and churned underneath them. Eren watched him for a second then looked away. Off in the distance he could see the glowing lights of Elysium.

Slowly, haltingly, the other boy began to speak.

“Sorry about…” Armin trailed off. “It was stupid. I should have just asked - we could be friends properly. But now - it’s the seeds, you see. Six of them, six months. We're bound by precedent, unfortunately.”

Ah, there it was again. Who knew the god of the dead was such a stickler for rules?

And then he was off again, turning away and moving through his realm. Eren followed, and they walked on in silence. Eren looked upon the craggy rock and trampled flowerbeds and the overgrown hedges on the edges of the estate, and frowned.

“Your palace sucks,” he blurted out, characteristically blunt.

It was Armin’s turn to be startled. In fact, he looked positively scandalised. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve got like, all the gold and precious metals and stuff but it’s just too much,” Eren supplied.

A pause.

“Also the palace looks evil and the gardens are dead,” he added.

Armin opened his mouth to object but closed it again.

Eren, ever the opportunist, quickly followed up: “I’ll forgive you - and your terrible taste - if you let me just have the garden,” he said, gesturing around meaningfully. “By the time summer comes I’ll have it all fixed up.”

Armin dithered, but picked up the pace, widening his strides.

“You owe me,” Eren pressed breathlessly, running to catch up. “You were the one who started it.”

Armin seemed suitably chastened. “Fine,” he huffed out.

Eren couldn’t help but smile to himself, even as he was careful not to let the boy see.

It was getting late - a mist had descended upon the land and it was beginning to get cold. Eren found himself shivering in his thin clothes, goosebumps creeping across the length of his arms. Armin must have noticed, because he pretended to stifle a yawn and said, “We should get back.”

And then, before he could protest, the lord of the underworld - Hades himself - draped his thick coat across his shoulders, and was already ahead of him, bare shoulders stark against the night as he turned on his heel and moved briskly in the direction of the ugly, evil palace. Eren clutched at the velvet that clung to him. It was surprisingly warm against his skin.

It became a routine of sorts, walks in the morning and at night, bookending their days. On one nighttime walk, when the precious stones embedded in the cave’s ceiling had glinted like stars, he’d strayed too close to the blond boy and the backs of their hands had brushed. His heart had skipped a beat, but the other boy didn’t seem to notice, or even if he did, he didn’t say anything. And anyway, they’d gone back to their separate chambers as usual - Eren right to bed and Armin back to his office.

iv.

They’d just finished their morning walk, which had led back to the mess of the office, when another one of the servants had unceremoniously dumped yet another pile of papers on Armin’s desk. Eren could see the veins starting to stand out on his forehead, the thick pulsing blue under his pale, luminous skin, before he buried his face in his hands and sighed loudly.

“It’s clearly stressing you out,” Eren said, perched on the corner of the desk. “Here, let me,” he reached for the sheet right on top, marked ‘URGENT’, and for once Armin didn’t try to stop him.

“It’s the review cases,” Armin groaned into his palms. His voice was muffled but indignant. “I’m really not convinced we should change their sentences every thousand years, but since they’ve developed the constitution and instituted rights there’s apparently no such thing as eternal fate anymore.”

“This one?” Eren pulled open a scroll, scanning it. “Another king. Oh - this guy’s seriously fucked up. Cooking his kids?”

“Yeah - which is why I thought it’d be poetic justice to have the whole ‘water he cannot drink’, ‘food he cannot touch’ schtick. But apparently he’s shown some potential for reformation so that’s now out of the window. As are cruel and unusual punishments.” Armin groaned again and let his head flop to the side, blond strands shifting about the jet black table. His cheeks were pressed onto the countertop and it was almost comical, Eren thought - and in fact, deeply humanising, watching Hades moan about his job and suffer from overwork. He felt a pang of feeling - something - for the small blond boy, caught up with the entire mess of processing souls in the afterlife.

And so it might have out of a fit of compassion that he dropped Tantalus’ file, letting it flutter to the floor, and came up behind Armin to rest his hands on his tense shoulders. And it was probably out of a swell of sympathy then that he let himself press his thumbs firmly right into the space between Armin’s shoulder blades, fingers splayed out across his narrow back and warm neck. Working at the tense knots, until he felt the other boy relax into him.

It was the tail end of winter, while a blizzard tore across the surface of the earth and frost marked the ground, when Armin had summoned him for dinner. This was something new; he had made no mention of food - much less a meal - before, except for the second encounter where he’d pronounced Eren’s fate. Besides, he was right: they didn’t exactly need to eat, though Eren supposed he’d appreciate a good dinner if it were offered to him. And Armin had explained that the rest of the food wasn’t binding, so he also supposed it wouldn’t hurt to see what fruits of the earth the underworld could offer.

As the door to the dining hall swung open he was greeted with an opulent sight. His let his eyes scan over the candlelit room with its long table piled high with more food than he’d seen in his life. There was a literal cornucopia as the centrepiece. Armin was at one end, waiting expectantly. His head was resting casually against his fist, blond locks soft against his features. For once he was without paperwork, the entirety of his attention focused on the boy who had entered the room.

“Is this a date,” Eren said, voice rising, but not quite a question.

Armin shrugged noncommittally. “Your time here’s nearly done. It’s been five months - I thought we should commemorate it.” His voice was even, but in the dimly-lit room it would have been impossible to tell if he were blushing anyway.

“Soppy,” Eren said, under his breath, but he let the servants offer him a chair and settled into it, hands already curling around the outermost set of cutlery before him.

After a full dinner of winter vegetables and hearty stews - plus much, much dessert - they retired to the drawing-room, warming themselves by the glow of the crackling fireplace. Eren had shifted himself to the floor and was slumped against the legs of his chair, while Armin sat in a big armchair, leaning right into the cushions. Cerberus lay between them, heads resting on Eren’s lap and tail wagging lazily across the carpeted floor. He let his hands brush over the dog’s smooth coat and scratched him behind his many ears. He looked up and realised Armin was watching him quietly. The soft light danced across his features and his blond hair was like a golden halo. He looked the furthest thing from an imposing god, the lord of the dead. In the orange light he just was: a slender boy, almost-man, with bony knees and silky hair, large eyes heavy-lidded and half-closed. Body relaxing into his seat, basking in the warmth of the fire and filled with a good meal, enjoying the moment and the presence of someone else.

Armin caught his gaze. “Thank you for today, Eren,” he said softly.

Eren scoffed. “Sentimental bastard,” he whispered, and by the firelight, he swore Armin’s blue eyes had crinkled at the corners and his round mouth had curled into a slow, soft smile.

vi.

The plants that Eren had carefully, lovingly sown were coming to fruit, putting out rosy apples and dark velvet figs. They hung low on bended branches like teardrops and had to be harvested quickly before they turned soft and overripe. Eren was spending longer days in the garden which he’d carved out for himself, tending to his crops and reaping the bountiful harvest which he piled around him: lush and speckled gourds, bright fuchsia pomegranates, waxy yellow lemons, tender red berries and grapes in frosted hues, which all lay languidly in wooden crates waiting to be savoured. His favourite were the peaches, which were round and ripe in his hands and whose blush matched the pink in his cheeks as he worked tirelessly at the land. And of course he had a soft spot for the grain in its multitude of forms. The long stalks tickled his face and he brushed them away absentmindedly, even as his hands worked to pick the tiny seeds from their dried heads and shuck the full ears of corn that filled the rustling fields around the obsidian castle.

He was digging up the jewel-toned carrots when Armin found him. He had rested a foot on his worn shovel, pressing it into the soft earth, and had paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. From the corner of his eye he spotted a blond figure approaching the edge of the plot, black robes rustling against the freshly tilled dirt.

Armin slowly made his way up to him. He’d grown, somewhat, in their time together, but he was still small and lithe and he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as he spoke:

“Um. Today’s the day. You can leave if you want. I mean…it’s been half a year, hasn’t it?”

Eren watched as he shifted his weight from left to right, and then back again. He’d been thinking about this a lot. They both had. And he had decided. So he merely laughed, turning slowly to wipe his hands on his slacks. He reached for the fruit piled high around them. The ripe pomegranate bruised easily under his fingers as he twisted it open.

And its juice was warm and sweet, trickling down his mouth and lips, as he bit into the soft flesh of its ruby red insides and swallowed its seeds.

here you go, anon! you've asked and i've tried my best to deliver. this was tremendously fun to do so thanks for it:") i’ve put it on ao3 where i might tinker a bit more with it...so watch that space.

and please feel free to ask more :”)

#Eren Jaeger #eremin #armin #armin arlet #eren #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #greek myth retellings #hades and persephone #fruit & homoerotic undertones lol #askbox prompts

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blametheeditor · 2 years

Text

SContainP

Warnings: cursing. Mentions of death and murder.

Run Down: Anxiety has been apart of the foundation for multiple years. This was supposed to be a simple job for a field agent. The job description for ‘containment’ is supposed to rely with the containment specialists.

I’m exciiiiiiiited!

________________________________

“This is a special assignment, Anxiety.”

Of course, that’s the only information Virgil was granted. The files regarding which phenomenon he’s looking into are locked behind a few levels too high for a lowly field agent, and there wasn’t enough time to ask Logic if there’s any way the man with more clearance could take a quick look for him.

“You do realize how much of a breach in security that is, Anxiety. To be perfectly honest, I’m surprised you’d even ask.”

A jar of Crofter's later, he would've been a lot more comfortable following the orders someone at least took the time to type out instead of hand-write.

But the truck was ready for the lucky person chosen to take the hour to day long trip who knows where. A packed bag thrown onto his lap as the metal doors slammed shut, a lock stating there is nothing he can do about it. Left with nothing to calm himself but read the list that would guaranteed be snatched away the second he exited a hundred times to ensure he didn’t forget anything.

Step 1. become a night guard at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria

That one had been...suspiciously easy. There wasn’t a fake ID in the spare belongings provided. No folder of a pre-qualified resume to hand to the manager. It turns out he didn’t need anything but to prove he can read and write, hired right there on the spot despite it being the one step he thought would take a solid month to get past and end with him having his memory wiped.

Step 2. observe [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], and [REDACTED]

At that point, he started to feel more like a D-Class and less like a respected field agent who has done multiple undercover assignments. Four anomalies. Four unknown anomalies. Unable to even try to look in the database to get more information on what exactly he’ll be walking into.

What’s worse is there’s a reason his unredacted name is Anxiety. As much as he wants to force himself to think the anomalies might be neutralized, the what if’s tell a much grimmer and believable story. Especially when he knows from Morality that neutralized anomalies tend to be reviewed by researchers.

Step 3. submit complete reports to return

Virgil stares at the constantly spinning fan that should’ve stopped the second he unplugged it from the electrical outlet. After a full minute to make sure it’s not one of the anomalies he came to observe and instead the normal kind, a glance at the clock stated he had four more to kill before his shift officially started.

He’s absolutely terrified. After being with the foundation for six years, he’s never been this unprepared. Never just thrown into danger. Never without Creativity as a partner.

But now he’s alone, with no idea what he’s supposed to look for, no guarantee to get back home within a year’s time. Or to get home at all...

“C-Calm down,” slips out as his chest continues to tighten the closer midnight draws. Feeling like a sitting duck as he twiddles his thumbs.

Well? Are you?

Virgil hesitates at the realization he’s not exactly acting like a field agent with years of experience under his belt. It anything, he feels like a sixteen year old again getting lucky with witnessing an anomaly classified as safe escaping its containment for no more than a minute. They gave him this assignment for a reason.

Growling lowly, the tablet he originally tried to keep as far away as possible is swept up at the same time the phone suddenly rings. It earns a fierce glare to dare it to do something out of the ordinary. With the chance of potentially having a memetic on his hands, he’s happy to wait out the person calling, looking down at the device now powered on stating it’s midnight.

Don’t get him wrong, he nearly jumped at the sudden noise. If he hadn’t pumped himself up just moments ago he would’ve booked it out of the restaurant and-

“Hello? Hello, hello?”

“GOD FUCK JESUS!”

Virgil finds himself hidden behind the wheeled chair he was just about to sit in, staring wide-eyed at the phone he wishes he didn’t ignore, blatantly aware he’s unable to breathe from sheer terror.

“Uhh, I wanted to record a message for you... to help you get settled in on your first night.”

A recording. Unfortunately that doesn’t cross out memetics, but at least it explains someone talking without him picking up the receiver.

Holy shit...

It takes several seconds until Virgil is able to stand up. Blood rushes in his ears to block out a standard ‘greeting’ the company gives, ignoring it in favor of making sure he’s mentally prepared for the potential of other things suddenly talking to him.

“...a missing person’s report will be filed within ninety days or as soon as property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached and the carpets have been replaced.' Blah, blah, blah...”

…what did he just say?

“Uh, the animatronic characters here do get a bit quirky at night...”

Virgil scrambles for the tablet he accidentally threw across the room, snatching it up before tucking himself in the corner. Does that make it so there’s nowhere to run? Yes. Does it also make sure nothing can sneak up behind him, though? Yes. If he’s getting killed he’d rather see it coming then pretend it wasn’t happening.

Potentially bad ideas aside, he looks over the multiple cameras, hesitating when he realizes the game.

“So just be aware: the characters do tend to wander a bit.”

Looking at the dining area, the bathrooms, the kitchen isn’t working oh god. They’re all spots to look at and see if the animatronic characters he didn’t have the honor of seeing when he came to apply are getting too close for comfort.

Speaking of characters.

Virgil feels the blood drain from his face when he finally clicks on the camera aimed at the stage.

[REDACTED] number one. A purple bunny with a guitar in hand.

[REDACTED] number two. A yellow chicken with a ‘Let’s Eat!’ bib.

[REDACTED] number three. A brown bear with a classic top hat.

“Oh fuck.”

And that’s when the three suddenly turn their heads to stare right at Virgil who is not ashamed he immediately threw the tablet before making sure he located [REDACTED] number four.

“But hey! First day should be a breeze; I’ll chat with you tomorrow. Uhh, check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power.

“Alright. Goodnight."

He’s not going to last until 6 am.

#FNAF #Sanders Sides #SCP #yes #i did combine three fandoms into one fic #and i'm not ashamed of it #i've actually had this idea in my head for a looooooong time after randomly coming across the SCP wiki #but a friendo i found again is also into SCP so the motivation finally came so tada!#i'm quite happy with it #and i'm excited to write more with it #and fyi i'm not as in depth with SCP lore than FNAF and Sanders #but I'll keep learning! and hopefully I have the right spirit!#thanks for reading and have a great night!#SContainP #BTE writing #writing

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imaginesupply · 4 years

Text

Homecoming - Chapter Four

(Gif's not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

-It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

-This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

-English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

-Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

-Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

-Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Four starts after the cut. (Chapter Three can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

Chapter Four

Chapter warnings: PTSD, angst (or as much angst as I’ll ever write), couple’s fight, outdated expectations of marriage (is that even a warning?), mentions of masturbation.

This chapter is a little different from the previous ones and it’s stitched together weirdly. Also, there’s no smut (which is unusual for me!), but Chapter 5 will be more humorous and lighthearted.

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“When’s your next leave?” Harper asked from behind the wheel, knowing better than to take his eyes off the sand road. He had been transferred to the Special Forces after the whole water pumping station incident, with Sy’s approval.

They were at the very back of the convoy, like always. It was the only way Sy was able to keep all the Humvees in sight and look out for everyone.

“Not sure I’m gonna be seeing home before July.” Sy replied, blue eyes scrunched up as he tried making something, anything out in the darkness surrounding them. Doing this scouting mission at night hadn’t been his idea, but the order had come from higher up and it was when the guards were at their lowest.

Harper smiled, a short huff escaping his chest. “Ah yes! What are you going do once you’re home for good?” The soldier asked, the tiniest hint of teasing in his voice. “Give your wife a small army of Texan babies?”

Sy scoffed, his chest shaking beneath the heavy protective vest. “Eyes on the road, soldier.”

“Yes, captain.” Harper chuckled even as he obeyed the command.

The rest of the drive went by in silence. The whole point of doing it at night was to be unseen and unheard. Confirm it was an armory so that an airstrike could later destroy it. Quick and easy.

Sy absentmindedly rubbed his finger through the thick glove, trying to feel the wedding band beneath. He never took the thing off, but it still somehow eased his mind to make sure it was there – make sure she was there across the ocean. They had talked on the phone the night before and he could still hear her shriek as she stubbed her toe on the doorframe whilst pacing around the house as she spoke to him. She wanted to order new tires for his pickup truck because she was afraid the current ones would be expired once he got back. He told her not to worry about any of that, but she insisted and then asked about Aika, changing subjects. No matter what they talked about, he always slept better after hearing her voice.

The landscape changed ever so slightly. They were there, right outside the deserted town’s walls. Sy gave everyone the order to pull up and get ready. It was only when he stepped out of the Humvee, his feet landing swiftly on the soft sand and the cold night’s air hitting his face, that he realized that Sy had been there already. He was dreaming again.

He had been there hundreds of times, taken the same steps, given the same orders and run away from the same explosion. After having the same nightmare night after night, the shock and the surprise element had lessened, but the dread remained unchanged. Sy was cursed to relive the same scene again and again, for moments even wondering if he lacked imagination so much that his mind was unable to come up with anything else.

Still, every night, he'd try changing the outcome, attempt to take control of his past self and make different decisions: refuse the mission, take a different team, catch Lieutenant Wilkins before he had a chance to run into the trap. It never worked. The result was always the same with him shouting for everyone to retreat and grabbing on to the back of Wilkins' uniform, trying to drag him out of the building, unsuccessfully. Then the telltale detonation followed, the building shook and they were thrown backwards with the explosion. When Sy landed on the concrete, there was a corpse - or what remained of it - on top of him. It was what had shielded him from the worst.

He once tried to warn Wilkins about the child's voice asking for help, to tell him it was a trap and that they needed to ignore it, but he was unable to speak. They were there, on the exact spot, a large room right down the stairs with no windows or lights, only three parted doors. Unlike the first time, the real time, he knew what was about to happen, through what door the grenade would be thrown out of before rolling on the dusty ground. And he went through it all over again.

It was the noise that alerted him the first time, the impact as it hit ground and then the rolling sound on the uneven surface.

"Retreat!" Sy heard his own voice shout loud enough for the rest of the team behind them to hear, then an echo of hurried, heavy footsteps followed.

He knew what happened then. Sy waited for the faint, unidentifiable cry for help and for Wilkins to blindly bolt towards the voice, the grenade. He knew he'd unable to stop him this time just like all the others. What was the point of making him relive the same failure over and over again?

"Help!"

Sy froze on the spot, unlike all the other previous nights. This time it was not a random infantile voice. It was Ada's. She was crying out for help, for him.

This time it was him who dashed after the voice, the grenade exploding before he could reach her.

°°°

Ada thought that they had dodged the bullet, that they had somehow managed to avoid all the stuff she had crammed her head with when she had found out Sy was retiring from active combat sooner than expected. The notes she had taken, the websites she had visited, the therapists she had researched and ranked according to online reviews; she had started to think none of these would come in handy. Apart from that small incident when grocery shopping and the whole thing with Tom, Sy was okay, they were okay. Or so she thought.

It only took maybe eight days of Sy being back home to find out that wasn't true. It was almost like when you took a plane and fly halfway across the globe. The first days you’d eat dinner at 3am and go to bed three hours later and nothing felt real. Then it settled in. But this wasn't a spontaneous holiday or a mid-life crisis, this was an honorable discharge. Sy wasn't leaving behind an unsatisfying career, he was leaving the war.

He came home. They reunited, caught up with each other, basked in other's presence. Ada had to keep reminding herself that she could fall asleep at night without the anxiety of feeling like she was wasting away his leave with something as frivolous as sleep.

Only sleep wasn't frivolous, Ada soon came to realize. Sy slept well the first few nights back home. The exhaustion helped, so did sex. Sy would kiss her, roll over, pull her into his arms and fall right asleep after it.

That changed quickly. On the eight night, she woke up to pee hours before dawn only to find his side of the bed empty. She found him downstairs playing on his new console. It was the jetlag that made him unable to sleep, he said. Ada knew better, even as she acquiesced.

The following night, after making love and taking care of her, Sy didn't even bother pretending he was going to bed. "I won't be able to sleep anyways and I don't want to keep you up," he claimed, putting on a t-shirt and some sweatpants before going out for a run. It was past midnight.

After going two days with barely shutting his eyes, Sy did finally fall asleep in bed with her. Ninety minutes later, he was awake again.

"You okay?" Ada groaned softly, forcing her eyes open but it was too dark to see anything. She had woken up with his tossing and turning.

"Yeah, just go back to sleep," Sy replied dismissively, turning on his side and facing the window away from her.

Ada was about to do just that, believing his words in her incoherent sleepiness, when her hand touched his clammy back. He had managed to sweat through his t-shirt, but his skin remained icy.

"You're not okay," she whispered to herself before switching on her small bedside lamp and sitting up.

"I told you to go back to sleep, Ada," Sy protested, still facing away from her.

She shook her head softly and tried to pull him into her arms, but he was too heavy, and she couldn't move him without his help. "If something's wrong, you can tell me, you know."

She waited in silence for him to answer, to say something, anything at all. She had planned on watching podcasts, meeting with veterans and whatever she could do to help, but Sy had come home several months earlier than planned and she didn't know what to do, what was expected of her as a wife, as his partner, as his support person.

"Alright, you don't have to talk if you don't want to," she attempted quietly, sliding back into bed and moving in behind him, doing her best to be the big spoon for once. "We can just cuddle until you fall asleep."

Apparently, that turned out to be the wrong thing to say. Sy jumped out of bed as if her touch had burnt him. "I'm not a fucking child, Ada. I don't need your cuddles."

She flinched at his tone, taking a deep breath but her voice still came out strangled. "I was not implying you were a child, Sy. I just thought - no - I just hoped that you would find some comfort with me," she admitted but he was already getting dressed, sweaty skin and all. "Clearly I was wrong."

His face was red behind his full beard. He was pissed, she could almost feel him buzzing as he tried to restrain his anger and not - she didn't know what he was keeping himself from doing. Whatever it was, Ada was sure his next words hurt just as much as whatever he was initially going to do.

"I don't need you to fucking comfort me, woman!" He spat out, putting on a pair of boots. "I don't need anyone's help and certainly not my wife's!"

With that, he marched to the bedroom door, forcefully throwing it open. "I'm going out for air. Don't wait up for me."

They barely saw each other the next day. Sy texted that he was going to spend some time with his mom. Still hurt and offended, even though she knew this was not about her, Ada left for the day without telling him her whereabouts.

She took her car and drove to the animal shelter to help out. No one was expecting her there, but they gave her some work to do and it did help her feel better for a couple hours at least. But it was barely noon when she was done and she refused to go home, meeting up with friends instead. None of them asked why she wasn't at home practically glued to Sy. They were used to their friend pretty much vanishing off the face of the Earth whenever Sy came home for two or three weeks, but they were wise enough not to question it.

His words had stung. Ada was aware he had been mad, and that people always said dumb stuff when they were mad, but she did find some truth in his words. Why would he need her comfort? Her help? Or even a wife at all?

Sy had lived thirty-three years without knowing her and then three more married to her but living continents' apart. He could command soldiers, lead missions, plan attacks and whatever it was that he also did back in Iraq. The house was his, his mom would be overjoyed to cook for him and do his laundry again if he didn’t want to do it himself and Ada didn't kid herself - if he wanted sex, all he had to do was walk into a bar.

So, technically speaking, she knew Sy didn't need her. He was a grown ass man who could survive on his own better than ninety-nine percent of the population. What had hurt her was that he didn't want her, nor her help or her comfort. And if he didn't want her to try and make his life a lil' bit better, what was even the point. Ada didn't know and all the cocktails she consumed didn't provide an answer either, but they did end up forcing her to eat almost her own weight in food to soak up all the alcohol before driving back home at ten.

She was still fishing out her keys to open the front door, when Sy pulled it open with so much force, it almost flew off its hinges.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" Sy shouted as soon as she set a foot inside.

"I was out with friends.” Ada took off her shoes by the door. "How's your mom?" She looked up only long enough to find him staring down at her with his thick arms crossed in front of his chest.

"I sent you a dozen texts and called you just as many times, but you never picked up." Oh, his tone had switched to that unsettling calm before the storm.

"I apologize, my phone was on silent," Ada replied. It was true, though she had still noticed his calls and texts. "Look I am tired, and I am going to take a shower." She said before walking upstairs to their bedroom.

To her surprise, Sy followed her up, stopping only at their room’s threshold as if he weren’t allowed inside without her forgiveness. "I am sorry for yesterday," he sighed, leaning against the doorframe.

“It’s okay.” Ada shook her head, undressing rapidly and balling up her dirty clothes to throw them in the hamper. She smelt like a whole bar and she was desperate for a shower.

“I didn’t mean it, what I said,” he added, finally walking inside the room but still keeping his distances.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” She reassured him, disappearing inside the en-suite. This was just a fight. Couples had them all the time. Sy had even apologized. “I am sorry too. For today.”

His voice startled her, Sy was closer than she had expected. “Do you have need for me?” He asked, making her still as she bent down to fetch some fresh towels from the drawer. Did she have need for him? Ada frowned even though he couldn’t see her face. She heard him sigh again behind her.

"I felt useful back in Baqubah. I ran that city, commanded soldiers, gave my country something and then an explosion happens, two of my men die. And you know what they do? They send me home. Not to punish me for fucking up; they send me home because they thought I had witnessed enough shit and deserved an honorable discharge. Whatever the reason, my services weren't needed there anymore."

"Then I come home to my wife, to you, Ada. And you know what?” He asked before providing the answer himself. “The doors don't screech, the mirror has been replaced and my wife doesn’t even need me to take her out on dates or to the movies because she already has someone for that. So really, what's my goddamn purpose here? The house doesn't need me. You don't need me. Even my mother doesn't need me what with her new boyfriend. So why the fuck did I come back?"

He paused and Ada took it as a chance to stand up and face him. She didn’t know what this was. His voice wasn’t loud, he wasn’t shouting, and his posture didn’t appear hostile. They weren’t arguing, this was something different. “That’s not-” Sy cut her off.

"Then, last night, I realize that while you don't need me, I sure as hell need you, Ada. And that's not how I imagined my marriage would be. I should be the provider. I should be taking care of you, not the other way around."

"This is not the 1950s, Sy," Ada chuckled faintly despite herself.

"That don’t matter. It's how I was raised: preside, provide and protect. I don't care about the presiding part; I knew from day one that I'd never be able to boss you around and I didn't want to. But I still very much believe in providing for and protecting what's mine, and instead, you're the one doing that. So, not only did I fail my men back in Iraq, but now I’ve failed you too."

“No. Stop right there.” Ada interrupted him, more forcefully than intended. "Okay, first, you never failed me. Don’t you ever say that.” Sy huffed from his spot by the door, clearly unconvinced but she was determined to get this out. “Second, I... I think you need to stop settling for being needed and instead accept that you are loved, at least by me."

Sy stiffened against the doorframe, his face taking over an unreadable expression beneath his beard. Shit. Did she mess up again? "Did I say something wrong?"

He didn’t reply right away. Ada took a few steps to him when his words took her by surprise. "You said you loved me."

She stopped in her tracks, opening her mouth and closing it again a few times, stammering. Confusion was evident on her face. "Well, yeah."

"You've never said it before," Sy explained, the hint of a smile on his lips.

Ada frowned, a little unsteady on her feet as she thought back. "Are you certain? I'm pretty sure that is what I ended all our phone calls with."

He shook his head. "I meant in person.”

"Oh, I never realized.”

The cold bathroom tile floor was not the place either of them would have picked out under different circumstances, but it was where Sy finally allowed himself to be cuddled into the warmth of her embrace for the first time, his head resting against her naked breast with her slow heartbeat lulling him into a different kind of peace. “I do love you, Sy.”

Ada was no fool, this wouldn’t soothe all his troubles, but for now, it was a start. And that was all she could ask for.

°°°

Sy sat down on the chair in their study. Most walls were covered with Ada’s textbooks from floor to ceiling. He huffed at the sight. If you’d told him five years ago that he’d end up with an academic wife, he’d have laughed in your face. Now, he tested touched the shelves, watching them wobble slightly and decided he ought to build her something sturdier.

First, he had to take care of some administrative bullshit for the new job he'd be starting at Camp Marbry in January. He had always hated bureaucracy but there was no escaping it. He had learned it the hard way as a private. Maybe it was also time he started going through their utilities folders. Ada had taken over all of it when they got married, managing their bank accounts and paying the bills. Sy hadn't taken of that shit in years but he probably should relieve her of some of those chores.

His eyes wandered over to the neatly organized shelves under the office desk, trying to find the correct binder when his attention landed on what appeared to be a fancy silver notebook. Was that the one Tom had mentioned?

Sy knew he shouldn't go through her stuff, but he was curious and it was not like she had hidden it or anything. Ending his hesitation with a shrug, he picked up the notebook only for stray bits of paper to immediately fly out and land on the carpeted floor. "Shit!"

He bent down and gathered them all up quickly in his hand, lest Ada find out he was snooping and chide him like a soldier. He sat back on the chair and started reading through some of the bits and slips of paper he had caught: "shaving gel not cream!", "dog treats (the fancy ones)", "boxer briefs in L"... They were all dated too. Sy figured they were just old shopping lists until he opened the notebook.

The first part appeared to be a logbook of sorts with notes about each and every one of their calls for the past year. Sy went over some of them, grinning despite himself. He never imagined Ada took notes during their weekly phone calls.

"Sy says it's really cold at night in the desert."

"He seems a little down..."

"Aika has a sweet tooth." Damn, he missed that dog!

“Explosion. Two men dead.”

He skipped over the next few pages, remembering it all too well. After the logbook part, came a set of lists, all dated. "The monthly care packages," Sy realized, reading through them and concluding that this was where the bits of paper had fallen from.

All the care package lists were cross-referenced with the calls logbook. Sy had never understood how she always managed to send him exactly what he needed. He wasn't even aware that he had mentioned most of these small things to her. Most of the time, he didn't even understand how she managed to fit so much stuff into those small USPS boxes. Whenever he tried putting everything back in the cardboard box for safekeeping, half of it didn't fit back inside.

He flipped through a few more care packages before landing on a particularly long list. The date was highlighted, it was the package he had received on the month of his birthday. Ada had made him promise not to open it before the 18th. “You can open the box, but I will know if you open the present before your birthday, Sy,” she had warned him on the phone, trying to sound very stern. “And if you do, I’ll come to Iraq just to whoop your ass.” He had laughed so loudly, Harper had knocked on his door to make sure he was alright.

Sy laughed again as he went over the list, remembering how the private from the deliveries and postal department kept on complaining because packages this big were 'not usually authorized' and that he was getting 'favor treatment' because he was captain and that Ada shouldn't even have been allowed to ship a box exceeding the maximum dimensions. Sy had taken the package from the soldier and asked if he fancied a trip to the infirmary. That had shut him up quickly.

There had been candy (no chocolate because it had melted through its packaging once when she had tried sending him some), gum, the two first James Bond novels, dog treats, a new photo of his niece and nephew, underwear that was way too fancy for him and a handwritten letter from Ada.

What had immediately caught his attention was the very neatly wrapped gift box with a big red bow and a small card that reminded him once more not to open it until his birthday and only when he was alone.

Sy laughed, remembering how giddy he was to open that damn box. They'd gone on a recon mission on his birthday and when they got back, everyone was exhausted and dirty. He had hurried to the showers, cutting off some soldiers and then rushed to his private room to open the gift.

In all his adult life, Sy could only remember blushing three times, two of them the same day. First was when Ada said 'I do’ and he tried sliding the ring on her finger, but nervous and tipsy like he had been, the damn tiny thing slipped off his hand and fell on the carpet. Second was when the limo supposed to bring them back to their hotel was caught up in traffic, and the two of them decided to get it on in the chapel's storage room while another couple was getting married. Not only did they promptly – and accidentally, might he add – knock over all the props, he literally ended up fucking her through the cheap and unstable dry wall. The look on the couple’s face had been priceless!

The third time was on his birthday. Inside the box, he had found a handful of professionally made photos of Ada in lingerie and sometimes not even that much. If that didn't have his mind spinning and his dick throbbing after so many months away, he certainly couldn't believe his eyes when he found a small tube of lube and a transparent fleshlight.

It was not the gift as such that made him blush. The photos had him beyond excited and he was all too eager to try out the fleshlight. No, the embarrassment only settled in afterwards. More specifically when Sy remembered that despite having a private room as a captain, the washrooms where shared and he found himself cleaning the fleshlight in the sink with the little water they had, hoping no one would see him.

"Oh shit!"

Sy jumped in his chair at her voice, he hadn't heard her get home, let alone upstairs.

"Fuck. You weren’t meant to see that, Sy.” Ada babbled, quickly walking up to him with a sheepish look on her face.

Sy smiled, interrupting her as he seized her hips and pulled her down to sit on his lap. "It’s okay, darlin'."

Ada's eyes widened incredulously. "Really? You’re not even mad at me for meeting with a therapist to get advice?"

Sy closed his eyes, nostrils flaring for a moment. Right. Admittedly, he had not yet made it to that part but while he wasn't exactly keen on discussing his private life with strangers, he felt no anger at finding out that Ada had tried to look after him. Her words from last night had somehow made it through his thick skull.

"No, I'm not angry, not even for that. I know you were just trying to-"

Sy opened his eyes again at her silence only to find his wife grinning like the Cheshire cat as she looked at the open page on the notebook.

"You didn't even make it that far, huh?" She chuckled, pointing at the list. "Nope, you were still stuck with that ridiculous birthday gift I gave you!" While her tone was accusatory, Sy could see that she was trying not to burst out laughing.

Rolling his eyes, he pried the notebook from her hands and set it down on the desk. "It was not a ridiculous gift. I kept it all," Sy reassured her, pressing her body closer to his. "Well, not the lube. That was gone in weeks. And the photos are definitely a little used now but-"

Ada kissed him out of the blue, shutting him up. "Sy, I really love you but you're giving me secondhand embarrassment right now."

The bear of a man laughed, holding ever impossibly tighter before kissing her forehead. "I love you too, wife." Then, another thought crossed his mind. “Do you think it’s possible to send a care package to a dog?”

@colourmeinblue @hail-horror-queen @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @kmuir1 @madbaddic7ed @coffeebreathy @purplelove75 @summersong69 @helenaellie

#henry cavill smut #syverson smut #henry cavill x reader #syverson x reader #henry cavill x ofc #syverson x ofc

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medea10 · 3 years

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My Review of Flowers of Evil

How did I get into this anime? Because Flowers of Evil is something no one says, “Oh I want to see that, this looks like a masterpiece”! Oh, I was well familiar with the rotoscope nightmare stories from this and hoped to God my randomizer wouldn’t curse me with watching Flowers of Evil. I was however intrigued to learn that there was a yandere in this anime that’s on Yuno Gasai AND Shion Sonozaki levels. But intrigue can only get me so far when you spend 13 episodes watching…

THIS!

No this is not an exaggeration. Everyone has this kind of cringe face throughout the entire anime series. Be afraid children.

So the story is about this guy named Takao Kasuga. He loves to read and he loves the class smarty-pants Nanako Saeki. He doesn’t just love her, he sees her as his muse and his Venus and all that bullshit. But this is an admiration from afar. Pretty sure Saeki doesn’t even know he exists! One day, Kasuga forgets his book in his classroom. And on the ground, he notices a gym bag that belongs to Saeki. Oh come on, he’s not gonna go down the perverted route and steal a girl’s gym…

So he steals Saeki’s gym uniform. And surprise, one person knew what happened. The class loner, Nakamura! She forces Kasuga to form a contract with her. It wasn’t written or anything, just verbal. However, that doesn’t stop Nakamura from forcing Kasuga to do whatever she wants. But does Nakamura really like Kasuga or is she just into torturing this shit-faced pervert?

BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: You know, I’m too thrown off by the animation here that it has temporarily paralyzed me from catching voices or even giving a damn. I’m familiar with only two of the cast mates and the rest is literally my first time hearing it. Okay, I have one comment here. I often forget Mariya Ise could do some damn-ass scary characters like Nakamura. And when she does those murderous screams, forget about it! Here’s what you might recognize these folks from.

*Kasuga is played by Shinichirou Ueda

*Saeki is played by Yoko Hikasa (known for Bea on Pokemon Journeys, Rias on High School DxD, Mio on K-ON!, Hina on Domestic Girlfriend, Kirigiri on Danganronpa, Frieda on Attack on Titan, and Diana on Little Witch Academia)

*Nakamura is played by Mariya Ise (known for Bonnie on Pokemon XY, Levy on Fairy Tail, Ray on The Promised Neverland, Stocking on Panty & Stocking, Mika on Durarara, Dorothy on Black Clover, and Yuuko on Yuri on Ice)

SHIPPING: Oh please, anime Gods, do not turn this into another School Days fiasco. I find myself praying for this a lot these days. But in this anime’s case, please do not go down that route!

So, it was clear from episode one that Kasuga had a crush on Saeki. But this got very perverted very fast when he stole her gym clothes and that lead to the contract with Nakamura. Now is Nakamura romantically invested in Kasuga or is she just a crazy bitch. Let’s chalk this up to a 50-50 split here.

It wasn’t until the fourth episode where Kasuga and Saeki actually spoke to each other. And one episode later, they go on a date and end up in a relationship. One has to wonder if Kasuga would have one day acted on his own and ask Saeki out. All of this happened because he was being forced by that psychopath Nakamura. She tortured this kid and forced him to do so many unethical things. Stripping him naked and putting Saeki’s uniform on him for one! Who does that? So would Kasuga have done these sporadic actions if Nakamura wasn’t in the picture? After he stole that uniform, anything is possible. Now here’s the crazy shit here, Saeki loves Kasuga and she doesn’t care that he stole her gym uniform and did fuck-knows-what with it. She’s mad that Kasuga hid it, but still loves him.

Girl, the fuck is wrong with you?! You must be some special kind of crazy!

By the end of this series, you do see a shift in Kasuga and who he wants to chase after. Saeki or Nakamura?! Let’s just say that during a running away scene, Kasuga was going to go home with Saeki until he saw Nakamura and he chases after her. That’s a pretty good sign that Kasuga has switched gears on who he likes. I won’t delve any further than that as the anime only gives us so much and the rest of this love turmoil between these three characters is covered only in the manga. Probably a sign I should read the manga!

LOOOOOONG NO DIALOGUE MOMENTS: Dude, I know you’re trying to set the mood for certain moments, but I think you can dial it back a bit. This complaint isn’t just what happened at the beginning of episode 9; it took forever to get the main gist of this story in the very first episode. I had no idea what the main premise of the story was until the last five minutes of the first episode when Kasuga stole Saeki’s gym uniform.

Now I’m not knocking serious moments where there is no dialogue between characters for a long period of time and we just watch the animation of them walking or doing something. Hell, Neon Genesis Evangelion had famous scenes like that. But the elevator scene didn’t last six fucking minutes. Neither did the scene where Shinji kills Kaowru. In episode 9, we watch Nakamura and Kasuga walking from the school to home and watch the whole walk after destroying the classroom. I guarantee you, you could leave this episode running, fix yourself a bowl of cereal and toast, eat it up, go to the bathroom to have a good yank, then finish it off with watching a Che Guevara documentary…and Nakamura and Kasuga would still be walking home! I’m exaggerating and I don’t care. I feel like being an asshole here.

OH DEAR GOD, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!: Very rarely will I ever look at an opening or ending theme song in literal fear. In fact, the last one to be so morbid was with Attack on Titan’s second season ending. I mean, the imagery alone should tell you that this is full of spoilers and possessed by the devil itself. Now that I think about it, that’s still undefeated. But Flowers of Evil’s ending theme is a close fucking second. Have you heard this thing? It sounds like Bjork singing in Japanese, synthesized, while a cat walks on a keyboard and having a seizure at the same time. Thank God there are no actual visuals for this other than the flower featured on Kasuga’s book. I don’t think we can handle anymore animation from this nightmare fuel.

ENDING: The writing is on the wall!

And the floor, the ceiling…that classroom is just a fucking mess!

Kasuga’s one bad deed led to another and another in a domino effect. And instead of a little devil on his shoulder, he has a classmate that’s a sociopath. Kasuga has guilt about hiding so much from Saeki in this relationship and he wants to tell her everything he did. Nakamura says, “Nah, you’re going to write it all over the classroom and let the whole world know what a piece of shit you are”. Let’s just say Nakamura and Kasuga went overboard and completely destroyed their classroom. Kasuga gets a bit of a lucky break as the other vandalism covered up his name on the chalkboard confession. But two people have caught onto Kasuga’s crime, Saeki and Kasuga’s mother.

Saeki put two and two together when she noticed the ink smearing on the ground resembled the flower art work on Kasuga’s book “Flowers of Evil” and her stolen gym uniform was placed right there. As for Kasuga’s mother, she put two and two together when she heard what happened to his classroom and noticed Kasuga’s behavior and dirty clothes from the night of the crime. Won’t be long before everyone knows what Kasuga did.

What now, shit-face?

Run away with Nakamura to the next town. Yeah, why the fuck not?! Saeki ends up tracking them down and tried to convince them to come back and for Kasuga to be truthful. Saeki wants Kasuga and I almost want to say the same, except hanging around this psycho-bitch for a while has caused him to try to stop Nakamura from leaving. Having Saeki see Kasuga go after Nakamura isn’t really a good look! At this point, it really feels like his love for Saeki was nothing more than lust.

Dude, isn’t there a rule about not messing with crazy…like, don’t stick your dick in crazy?! This dude has got one crazy bitch on psycho-yandere levels and the other that’s about to turn into Kotonoha from School Days in about five seconds. Well, no one left town today as the police were called to look for Saeki because her parents are overprotective types and they take the other kids in.

We get a small time-leap of one month after the night in the police station. Nakamura’s been ignoring Kasuga and Kasuga ends his relationship with Saeki. Dude, stop trying to stick your dick in crazy! Kasuga tries to speak to Nakamura again and it fails. So he visits her at home and meets Nakamura’s father and grandmother. Then, he sneaks into her room and reads her private journal that talks about Kasuga a lot. Dude, you are stepping in uncharted territory! Drop the journal and get the fuck out before Nakamura comes home. So Nakamura comes in her room and finds shit-face reading her journal.

*sighs*

First, I would like to acknowledge that Mariya Ise has one hell of a throat to scream as much as this crazy bitch does. Second, the fuck did I just say, ya dumbass?! Here we get another chase scene between Kasuga and Nakamura. What follows is…I can’t place my thoughts on this. Weird imagery, out of place dialogue, and possible scenes of future stuff to happen! A rape scene involving Saeki, a festival, a hideout, a knife, and fire! Thanks for the cryptic message guys, really appreciate it! Either the anime ran out of money or they’re fucking with the audience. Kasuga says he wants to form a contract with Nakamura and that’s the end!

Hmm, this anime came out in 2013 and it is now 2021. All the buildup and no word on a sequel! We all know that sequel ain’t ever coming. You have a better chance of a continuation to Haruhi Suzumiya than you do with this hunk of shit.

Okay, maybe ‘hunk of shit’ is too mean. This wasn’t a terrible anime. It was weird as fuck, the animation leaves a bad impression, but overall it wasn’t that bad. Now the manga to Flowers of Evil is a favorite to many. Probably because the characters don’t look like a cringey meme and there aren’t so many awkward pauses with no dialogue. Unless there’s a whole volume of Flowers of Evil out there where we just look at pictures of Nakamura and Kasuga walking home where they don’t say a fucking thing! I am not letting that go! Charlie Brown movies didn’t go to that level you guys did!

I was interested with each passing episode to see what Nakamura was going to do next and what she was capable of. I couldn’t make out if she was going to be homicidal or suicidal or just impact psychological warfare on her prey. It was the latter for this series, but I heard of some attempted seppuku going down in the manga. I’d like to think maybe one day a different studio would pick up this series, but I seriously doubt it with the rotten reception this adaptation received. It was said that the director to the anime saw this more as a live-action series than an anime and that’s why we have the rotoscope animation. It wasn’t until 2019 that we got a live-action adaptation to Flowers of Evil. Not sure how people felt about that adaptation, but even I have a feeling that it was much better than the anime. Hell, a Netflix adaptation probably would have turned out a better product. It would be nice for this to get a reboot, different studio, different director, and smash everything that has the word ‘rotoscope’ on it

Yeah, if you can get over watching the animation, give it a watch. Episode one drags, but it picks up the second Nakamura confronts Kasuga.

If you would like to watch Flowers of Evil, Crunchyroll and Hidive have all 13 episodes available for streaming.

Okay, now that I’m finished with that sociopathic nightmare let’s pick another Sentai Filmworks anime.

HELL NO! I am not reviewing, “My Teacher Accidentally Made Me Horny”. That’s what I’m calling it and you should all do the same. NEXT!

Okay…I have no idea what the hell this anime is, but it looks harmless enough.

#anime review #flowers of evil #aku no hana #takao kasuga #nanako saeki #sawa nakamura

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

established relationship prompt: "Newton, darling, would you be a dear and eat my arse?"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HERMANN!!! obvious maybe but not sfw below the cut lmaoooo. WHEW I managed to finish by midnight!

------------------

Birthdays have never really been the sort of thing Hermann has cared much about. Growing up, they were largely uneventful and unexciting, mostly ignored (if not outright forgotten) by his family, and in adulthood mostly ignored and forgotten by Hermann himself. After all, it’s become rather difficult to look forward to the passing of another year when the odds are growing exponentially higher humanity won’t live to see another, and equally difficult to celebrate the extension of one’s life when so many others have been lost. The very notion makes Hermann feel guilty. For those reasons Hermann has never marked his birthday down on a calendar in his time at the Shatterdome in any capacity, nor has he verbally acknowledged it to anyone. Certainly not to Newton.

It makes the hand-drawn card and small cake he finds on his desk the morning of June 9th all the more surprising. He does not need to read the card to know who the gifts are from. Newton’s distinctive handwriting and little crayon-doodled kaijus aside, Newton is quite obviously watching Hermann over his workbench for his reactions as Hermann inspects the cake. “How did you know?” Hermann finally says.

Newton feigns looking up at him in surprise. “Know what?” he says.

Hermann waves the card. “That it’s my,” he pauses, then continues, his mouth curling down with distaste at the word, “birthday?”

“Lucky guess,” Newton says. Hermann taps his finger impatiently on his cane, and Newton begins to tug off his work gloves with an eye roll. “Okay, I maaaaybe snooped through some of your employee records a little while back. But it was for totally valid reasons, dude. Relationship status, number one, birthday number two. How else was I gonna know all the important shit about you?”

“You could’ve asked,” Hermann says. He supposes this must’ve occurred right before Newton approached him in the laboratory a few months ago and asked him if he’d like to have sex. Hermann didn’t regret saying no at the time, and he still doesn’t, really, but he should’ve known Newton would be the…sentimental sort. Too affection-starved to let their convenient arrangement remain just that. At least he hasn’t thrown Hermann a party. “Besides. Did it ever occur to you I was keeping such things private for a reason?”

“You keep everything private,” Newton says. “I don’t even know your favorite color.”

“Most people don’t,” Hermann says.

“Yeah, but, you’re not—” Newton shakes his head, and lowers his voice, “—sleeping with most people. I mean, maybe you are, I don’t know, do whatever you want, man. I just mean—I want to know shit about you. Like your birthday. Since we’re—yeah.”

“I see.” Hermann sniffs. “Well. How terribly considerate of you.”

The sarcasm is unfortunately lost on Newton; he merely preens, and grins at Hermann, happy even to accept the smallest inkling of a compliment. “Yeah, I know. Anyway, what do you want to do tonight?”

Hermann expects he will do what he always does tonight, which is work late, eat dinner (usually cold by the time he clocks out) late, shower (also cold by the time he clocks out), and then go to bed. Though he supposes he’ll have to figure out what to do with the absurd little cake by then, as he doesn’t have a refrigerator in his bunk in which to store it. “Nothing much, I imagine,” he says.

“Really?” Newton says. “I was thinking we could wrap up early and head out somewhere fun for dinner. I was Googling cool places nearby that haven’t been, like, destroyed by kaiju yet. Or we could just get drinks. Or I also have drinks back in my room, and we could order pizza or something, so we don’t have to go out at all.”

“We?” Hermann says. Of course, Hermann ought to have known that sentimentality would also dictate he and Newton spend Hermann’s birthday together. All on account of a few, er, stress-relieving and completely emotionless liaisons every now and then. None of Hermann’s previous sexual partners (a rare handful, but existent nonetheless) have ever insisted on spending his birthday with him, and they’ve certainly never bought Hermann a card or cake, either. It would feel far too—well—intimate. What Hermann would only expect from a long-term partner. It’s really rather presumptuous of Newton to assume Hermann has any interest in celebrating with him. “Newton, really, it’s not—”

“Or we don’t have to have dinner at all,” Newton says quickly. “You could come over, and we can just…”

Do what they typically do when Hermann goes to Newton’s bunk, he expects. Hermann clears his throat. “You really have done quite enough for me already today,” he says. "I don't think—well—" He fidgets, scraping his cane across the floor, glancing back down at the cake and card. Newton has clearly handmade the cake as well: the frosting is colored a rather eye-searing shade of blue, layered on messily, and the Happy Birthday Hermann! written in yellow across it is cramped at the end, as if Newton did a poor job of space management. It is rather sweet of him. Hermann finds his heart softening just a bit towards his odd lab partner. "Oh, alright," he says, and Newton perks up happily. "But I'd rather not do anything too, er, fancy for dinner."

"Ha!" Newton says. "Awesome! Come over at six?"

Six means that Hermann will have to leave the laboratory no later than fifty-thirty if he wishes to shower and prepare himself for any sort of activity that may arise between them while they sit alone in Newton's bunk. Five-fifteen, if Hermann is being realistic, as he knows he will spend at least twenty minutes fussing over his appearance (wondering if he ought to shave away the few almost-clear pieces of stubble on his chin, smoothing back his hair, critically eyeing up his bony chest) as he always does upon the evenings when Newton invites him over. Hermann would like to protest and remind Newton that he does need to get some work done, but he really can't find it in himself, especially not when he knows Newton will put up a fuss and try to argue Hermann out of it anyway. "Six," Hermann agrees. He supposes he could use an early night in. Besides, it might be nice to treat his birthday as something special this year.

-------

Hermann arrives at Newton's bunk promptly at six. In lieu of dinner, which Hermann did not really expect they would be having, Newton (stripped down to a faded pair of boxer shorts and a white undershirt) leads Hermann over to his bed, sets his cane aside, lays him on his back, and begins to kiss him before either of them exchange a single word. It's rather more gently than Hermann is used to from Newton. Their liaisons are typically of the fast and rough sort, spurned on by fierce arguments and a need to outdo each other in everything, even sex. He can't say gentle doesn't feel nice. "What do you want to do?" Newton mumbles against his mouth.

"Do?" Hermann says. Are they not already doing something?

As Newton begins to kiss and stroke his fingers across Hermann's neck, Hermann finds his gaze wandering to the cinderblock ceiling of Newton's bunk. Everything feels rather nice and hazy. Newton's skin is warm and still slightly damp from a shower of his own, and each time Hermann inhales, he is nearly overwhelmed by the strong scent of Newton's body wash, unique, as far as Hermann knows, to only him on the Shatterdome base. Newton scorns the standard PPDC-issued kind, claiming that it irritates his skin, and so orders his own online once every few months. A funny little habit of his. Hermann is far less picky. "You're the birthday boy," Newton says. He flicks open Hermann's top button and nips at his collarbone. "Do you want to fuck me tonight? Or I could fuck you?" He speaks in short bursts, sentences stolen between pecks to Hermann's lips and punctuated by further nips to Hermann's throat. "I know we've only done it those ways a few times. But it's, like, a special occasion. And we have lots of time. I got new lube. Just in case. It got good reviews online?"

Hermann shivers pleasantly each time Newton says fuck. Newton's voice is far from sensual, Hermann must admit, but he is bold in voicing those sorts of desires in a way Hermann could never hope to be, and so it affects him as if Newton had purred the words. He secretly loves how crass Newton can be in bed—begging Hermann to fuck him harder, telling Hermann how much he loves fucking him, gripping at Hermann's hair and whining fuck, fuck, fuck while Hermann works his mouth over Newton as best he can. Hermann is not sure what he wants, and he's not sure what he wants from Newton tonight, either. "I don't know," he confesses. Newton kisses his mouth again, pressing his tongue in clumsily, and Hermann's eyelids flutter, the ceiling growing hazy. "Newton," he groans.

Newton's breaths are coming out in short, excited pants, and his fingers fumble over the next button on Hermann's shirt. Hermann suddenly feels foolish for changing into a fresh shirt and pair of slacks after his shower and not just his pajamas as Newton has. Foolish, and impatient with himself. It'll take Newton longer to strip him down to his bare skin.

"If you don't want to do all that I could just jerk us off a little," Newton says. He inches his hand down to the front of Hermann's slacks, rubbing against Hermann's zipper as clumsily as he'd kissed him. It's far too rough and graceless to be truly arousing, but it's Newton doing it to him, so Hermann pushes into his palm anyway. He feels Newton smile against his skin. "Or anything. Seriously. I wanna, like, make you feel good."

At once Hermann knows what he wants, and the need for it seizes him so tightly that he flushes brilliantly and bites down on his lip to keep from blurting it out and making a fool of himself. (It would hardly be healthy for Newton's already inflated ego if he knew just how badly Hermann wants him.) Newton has done it for him only two or three—well, three or four—times before, and each time has left Hermann an incoherent, trembling wreck upon the sheets. And no one does it to him the way Newton does; their arrangement is not technically monogamous, as that would require an admission of deeper feelings which neither of them are willing to make (and which are entirely nonexistent on Hermann's part), but Hermann has long since stopped seeking sex from anyone but Newton after a disappointing experience with a handsome j-tech who simply had no idea how to use his mouth effectively. Hermann likes to think Newton's is more skilled for the sheer fact that he never stops running it. "Newton," he says, falsely calm, stammering only slightly when Newton gropes at the length of his prick through his layers. "Newton, would you—would you be a dear, and eat my arse? Of course," he adds in a rush, "if it's too much trouble, don't—"

"Dude, of course," Newton says, smiling down so sweetly at Hermann that Hermann's heart twists in his chest. "No problem. I have the extra pillows in my closet, lemme get them." He slips to his feet, but hesitates. "Do you want to me finish—I mean, like, your shirt, and your pants, and—"

"I can do it," Hermann says.

Newton nods, and stumbles over to his closet to dig around for the spare pillows while Hermann makes fast work of his clothing. He finds himself strangely unwilling to part with his undershirt tonight. Not out of any lack of desire for Newton to see him naked, but rather out of a strange bashfulness at the idea of being fully on display for him. Which is really quite silly of Hermann. Newton has seen him naked countless times, both in his own bed and in the laboratory decontamination shower after some (Newton-induced) accident or another. It is only when Newton returns with the pillows that Hermann finally tosses the undershirt to the floor with the rest of his clothing. He's embarrassed to see his pink flush spreading down his bare chest, and hopes Newton does not notice it. What on Earth is wrong with him tonight? "You look hot," Newton says, sweeping his eyes up and down Hermann's body. He's still wearing his glasses. "Um. Pillows?"

"Yes," Hermann says.

Newton arranges the pillows in the way he and Hermann typically do when they engage in this particular activity, with enough support beneath Hermann's lower back, left hip, and left knee that he won't strain himself. As he parts Hermann's thighs and kneels between them, Hermann suddenly wishes that he was laying on his stomach instead. He does not want to watch Newton, nor does he want Newton to be able to watch him, for he feels twice as aroused and twice as overwhelmed tonight and he's sure neither will help that; the idea of falling apart under Newton's gaze is so tremendously mortifying that he almost asks Newton to turn him over. But then Newton is pressing a kiss to his inner thigh, and dragging his marvelous tongue across the sensitive skin there, behind Hermann's prick... "Oh, Newton," Hermann gasps, and Newton gently tucks Hermann's right leg over his shoulder, "oh, yes, Newton—"

He hides his whimpers behind his left hand as Newton licks and mouths at him hungrily, and fists his right hand in Newton's hair when Newton curls the tip of his tongue and begins to tease at him. "More," Hermann begs, breathless, pressing himself down on Newton's tongue to feel as much of it as he possibly can. His prick is stiff against his stomach. Newton laughs, and Hermann feels it vibrate within him. "Ah—more, please—"

"Uh-huh," Newton says. His glasses are fogging and crooked on his nose, and when he nods they slip down a centimeter. His tongue prods more insistently at Hermann, almost (but not quite) hard enough to breach into him, and Hermann bites down on his knuckles to contain another whimper. Newton hasn't even put a single bloody finger in him yet, and Hermann needs to calm himself down if he wishes to last until he does.

Then Newton sucks at him, moaning, and (his back arching, his eyelids fluttering) Hermann finds himself unable to hold off any longer. He squeezes his thighs on either side of Newton's head and cries out, "Newton—"

Newton swoops up to catch his release in his waiting mouth and swallows it all down. He presses a kiss to Hermann's inner thigh as Hermann trembles and shakes, and Hermann feels rather than hears him mumble something into his skin he can't quite make out. He follows it with another kiss, sweeter than the last, before crawling back up and dropping next to Hermann on the mattress. He watches Hermann catch his breath with soft eyes. "Please," Hermann says when he finds himself able. His voice is terrifically hoarse. "Let me—for you—" He gestures vaguely at the front of Newton's boxers and hopes Newton understands what he means.

But Newton shakes his head. "Nah," he says. "Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it. I know how lazy you get after you finish."

Hermann feels as if he ought to be affronted, but Newton says it with such obvious affection, and strokes his fingers through Hermann's sweat-damp hair so soothingly Hermann can do nothing but lean in to his touch happily. And Newton is not wrong, really. Hermann's eyelids are already beginning to droop. He imagines he'll be dozing any minute now. Newton winds an arm around his shoulders and draws him closer, and Hermann nearly shivers from the warmth his body exudes. "Thank you," Hermann murmurs. He's about to lay his head on Newton's shoulder and allow himself to doze when he realizes he ought to ask for permission first. Newton may still wish to go out to the mess hall and eat dinner, after all, and he may not want Hermann hanging around here. "Er—I don't suppose you would consider letting me sleep here? Only for tonight."

"Of course, dude," Newton says. "Not just tonight, any time you want. Seriously. I'm kinda—well, nevermind." He presses a kiss to Hermann's temple, and Hermann does not find out what he kind of is. "Happy birthday."

"Mm," Hermann says, shutting his eyes.

Newton strokes his hair until he falls asleep.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #not sfw /////#HAPPY BDAY HERMANNNNNN

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razieltwelve · 3 years

Text

My Origin Story

I’m often asked about how I got into self-publishing. It’s something I’ve talked about in previous posts, but I want to talk about it again. It’s been years since I started, and I think time has given me something of a different perspective.

I’ve wanted to be a writer for a long time. However, I first began to take my writing more seriously in high school. I started posting my writing on the internet under various pseudonyms, and I gradually honed my skills. I won’t say I was good back then, but I steadily became less horrible. It still wasn’t something I showed to people I knew in my everyday life, not even to my family. My writing was, in my opinion, still too rough and raw to present to others, except via the anonymity of the internet.

Fast forward to university. I continued to improve my writing as best I could. In fact, I devoted most of my spare time to writing. It was at this point that I began to write fan fiction. Now, I can already tell what some of you are thinking, but writing fan fiction was honestly the best decision I could have made at the time. Fan communities are wonderful things. You don’t have to be the best writer to be welcomed, and you can get access to a far larger amount of critique and advice than you would get as some random lone writer on the internet.

My writing improved markedly during this time since I was now getting regular feedback. Now, obviously, it’s true that most fan fiction readers aren’t professional writers or critics. Sometimes, all you get is “I like the bit where people got stabbed”. Yet amongst all of the one word reviews, random hate messages, and simple but welcome words of encouragement, you do meet people who are genuinely interested in helping you improve. I’m talking about detailed reviews that can be pages long, covering everything from sentence construction to overarching plot critiques.

In my Honours year, I finished my first novel. Before you ask, it’s not something that I’ve published although I do intend to go back and fix it up one day. What mattered wasn’t how good it was. No. What mattered was that I actually finished a novel-length story. It was a bit of mess at times, but it was 100,000 words of original fiction. Sure, it wasn’t great, but it was mine. I actually printed it out and had it bound in a manner similar to my Honours thesis.

During my PhD years, I continued to write, and I began to submit my short stories to fiction magazines while sending out inquiry letters to agents and publishers about my longer stories. Over the four years of my PhD I wrote three novels and many short stories.

And this is where my origin story takes a bit of a dark turn.

Do you want to know how many short stories I got published?

Zero.

Do you want to know how much interest I got from publishers and agents about my longer stories?

Zero.

That’s right. I got absolutely zero interest from anyone about my original fiction.

That’s not a good feeling, let me tell you. It can be very disheartening. I might have thrown myself into fan fiction with a bit more enthusiasm then because at least there, in those communities, people liked what I wrote. Despite all the rejections from publishers and agents, I could at least say that in certain communities, my writing was well-loved and respected.

After bashing my head into the proverbial wall for a couple of years, I began to look into self-publishing. If my writing was genuinely good, then surely I’d be able to sell at least a few copies if I self-published. I wasn’t going to get ahead of myself and predict best-seller status or anything, but I had to be able to sell something, right?

I spent the next few months studying the market and learning how to make eBooks and design covers. Finally, I was ready. The very first book I self-published was The Last Huntress. That book was a labour of love. I pored over every sentence. I obsessed about the characters and the setting. I promoted it as best I could via the communities I was a part of, and then I sat back and waited for the magic to happen.

That last part, the bit about the magic? That was sarcasm.

There was no magic.

In that first month, I sold something like 17 copies.

All told, that translated to around $6.50 for me.

Staring at that result was not the happiest moment of my life. I did the mental arithmetic. Even if I increased my sales a hundred fold, it still wouldn’t be enough for me to make a living via writing. Heck, I could increase my sales three hundred fold and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Luckily, my years of unrelenting failure had somewhat numbed me to this latest failure. I decided to try again. The sequel and some other stories actually managed to do a little better, but that was hardly saying anything. It’s kind of like how if your leg has been cut off, you probably won’t feel the pain of a broken finger all that much.

After a full year of massive failure, my knee decided to explode because of course it did.

Cue surgery.

Cue misery.

Cue six weeks with my leg locked straight in a brace.

Sitting on my couch with my leg propped up beside me, I decided that I wanted to write something different. No more serious fantasy. No more high fantasy. My humorous fan fiction was what had first endeared me to readers, so maybe it was time to write something funny. Besides, it might take my mind off the fact that I had weeks of my leg in a brace to look forward to along with months of physiotherapy.

And don’t even me started on how awkward it was to have a bath or use the toilet.

I was throwing around ideas for what kind of story I could write when a scene came to mind: a necromancer being forced to beat his own wayward creation to death. All I really had was that one scene. It sounded pretty funny to me, so I started writing just to see where it would go.

Two Necromancers, a Bureaucrat, and an Elf is what that idea became.

That book sold more copies in a month than all of my previous books combined had managed in a year. In fact, it managed to outdo all of my previous books combined several times over.

I can’t tell you how much it meant to me to see those numbers rolling in. It wasn’t a bestseller by any means, but it was the first time that I began to think that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t wasting my time, that maybe I could actually do this.

Things have changed a lot since then.

I’ve written more books, and although they’ve had varying degrees of success, they’ve all done so much better than I could ever have imagined during the doldrums of that first year. Humour, it seems, is what I’m best suited to, along with slice of life, and I’m more than happy to embrace that. I’ve even been lucky enough to have some of my books turned into audiobooks.

So there’s my origin story.

It’s easy, I think, to only remember the things that worked, but it’s important to remember the failures too. Writing isn’t an easy thing to do, especially if you’re aiming to make a living out of it. People can be cruel. You’re going to get reviews from people saying that you’re awful, that your story sucks, and that you should quit writing. But you’re also going to get reviews telling you that your story made someone’s day, that you made someone smile, that they can’t wait for the next book.

I wouldn’t be the writer I am today without those years of failure and disappointment. One of the most important qualities to have if you’re going to write humour is the ability to laugh at yourself and to make light of both the very strange and the very mundane. Moreover, a writer should be honest with themselves if they want to improve.

You can argue with reviewers. You can argue with critics. But you can’t argue with $6.50 worth of sales in a month.

I suppose that’s why I tend to be quite sympathetic to the underdog in my writing. I am one. I know what it’s like to put your heart into something and come up empty handed. I had that happen to me for years. I also know how important it is to celebrate the little wins and the small triumphs. Sometimes, they lead to bigger things, and sometimes, they’re all you have.

Well, that’s it. That’s my origin story.

It’s not exactly glorious. It’s filled with more than its fair share of failures. But it is my story. Mine. And that matters. Anyone who tells you that there isn’t some luck involved in the writing business is crazy. Luck is definitely a thing. But just being lucky isn’t enough. It takes years of hard work to become good enough to make the most of that luck, and it takes a certain level of idiocy/stubbornness to keep going despite everyone slamming doors in your face.

It’s a good thing, then, that I’m a lucky, stubborn idiot.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here. Also, just in case you missed it… The Sheep Dragon is out on Audible now! Get it here. It’s 26 and a half hours of fun, humour, and adventure!

#personal #musings #writing

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