#if I had more time I woulda done a second panel of the back

[ahollowgrave]

Day 25: Starlight

My own attempt at a starlight card! The text reads: - Happy Starlight - Blessed New Year

Odette loves you!

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) He Tends to your Burned Hand

OG Request: How would each one react if you burned your hands and no one else is around to help.

How gentle would they be? How would they calm you down, wipe your tears, kiss you softly. If they aren't into PDA now it's the perfect moment because they are alone

@leia-saveourskins, this request had me with my hand over my heart “aww”ing over here.  Adorable idea, and I really hope you like the end result! )

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

Warning: mentions of mild burned hand, fluff

Tech: Deals with the others’ injuries often, so he is calm while he effectively treats the injury while also being careful and sympathetic.

   The second he heard your hiss and “ouch!” he looked up from whatever he was doing to see you waving your hands to try and cool the burn quicker.  He usually dealt with the Batch’s injuries, so on instinct he was at your side already inspecting the affected area.

   “It seriously hurt,” you muttered, trying to hold back the tears.  “Stupid caf machine...”  Tech noticed the way your voice trembled from the pain, and his eyes traveled up to meet your watery ones.

   “Burns aren’t any fun,” he said sympathetically.  “No worries, love.  I’ll take care of it.  Let’s see here...”

   His gentle words already put you at ease before he even started cleaning the burn and applying a bacta patch.  He didn’t take his eyes off the injury the whole time he set to work on it.  You knew you were in good hands, and you were finally able to relax.  After the task was completed, he met your gaze again.�� 

   “Better?” he asked.

    You nodded, smiling.  “Much better, thank you.”

   He returned a little smile, leaning in to kiss the side of your hand that wasn’t injured.

Hunter:  Comforts you right off the bat in a tender way and bandages you up.

   He heard your sharp intake of breath, turning to look at you curiously before seeing your face twisted in a look of pain as your hands retreated from a nearby foreign plant.  Hunter tensed, ready to go to you if you needed any help.

   “You okay, _________?”

   You looked at him with hands tucked under your arms.  You simply nodded back, lips pressed firmly together to bar yourself from a verbal response.  He noted how your brows furrowed and how your muscles still looked tense.

   “You sure?”

   Finally, you shook your head, shoulders sagging, as you released the sob that you’d been holding back.  “I burned my hand,” you cried.  “On a plant!  And it really hurts.”

   Instantly, Hunter was next to you.  He slipped one arm around your form in a comforting hug while his other hand carefully extended your arm so he could get a better look at the injury.  His eyes and touch were so tender.

   “Shh, shhh,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.  “I’m no medic, but let’s see what we can do here.”  As he tried to find the small stash of bacta patches he kept in his supplies, your breathing returned to normal as you started to pay less attention to the injury and more to the one tending to it.

   “Thank you, Hunter,” you said.  He paused the process to gently swipe a finger under your eye to wipe a fallen tear before kissing your temple once more.

   “Of course.”

Crosshair: Is worried once he realizes you’re in pain and does what he can to bandage it up and offer comfort.

   A yelp escaped your lips, causing the sharpshooter to halt just ahead of you and roll his eyes.  “What is it?”  He took one look at your face twisted in pain next to fallen ship debris, and his pretend annoyance vanished altogether.  “_________, what’s wrong?”  He approached, his keen eyes drawn to your chest where you clutched your hand to it.

   “I burned my hand,” you replied in a strained tone.  “It doesn’t feel very good.”

  He glanced around, quickly realizing there was no one else to help.  He wasn’t used to dealing with others’ injuries.  Sometimes Crosshair didn’t even like dealing with his own.  Tech was usually the one who knew about this sort of thing, but he wasn’t around at the moment.  He remembered his emergency supplies, and moved to find the bacta patches while the tears fell down your face.

   “Hey,” he said, his tone more gentle than you’d ever heard it before.  It caught your attention, and he hesitated before reaching out a hand to touch your cheek.  “It’s...going to be okay.”

   Despite the pain, you managed a smile at his comforting words.  He resumed his search for bacta-soaked bandages.  Finally, he located one proceeded to apply it to the affected area while your sniffles subsided.  He pulled you in for a tender kiss to the forehead, taking one last look at his handiwork.

   “Does it still hurt?”

   “A little, but it’s much better now.  Thank you, Crosshair.”

Wrecker:  Tries to make you feel better about your injury and bandages you up.

   The two of you were inspecting a crash site together.  For a split second, he wasn’t sure what happened.  Once minute, you were moving a small piece of debris and laughing at one of his jokes, and the next minute you were jumping back with a cry.

   “________?” he asked, tone dropping with surprised concern.  “Are you okay?”

   You looked at him with big eyes glistening with tears, clutching your hand, and let out another whine.  “I burned my hand.  I don’t mean to sound like a baby, but it really hurt.”  You looked down at the injury, a few tears slipping down your cheek.  

  Wrecker hurried over to take a look, lifting his helmet.  “Ouch,” he muttered after seeing the mark.  “You’re not a baby, that looks like it hurts.  Woulda’ hurt me.”

   You gave a half-hearted smile at his attempt to make you feel better.  “Well, thanks.”

   “Oh!  Uhhh, here.  I think Tech gave me some extra bandages in case of an emergency.”  He quickly ripped open a pack of bandages and did his best to apply one carefully to the area on your hand.  It wasn’t as precise of a job, but it was done with love and would hold you over until you were in a place to get a better look at it.  Wrecker gave you a sheepish smile, trying to smooth out the bandage.  “Sorry, ________.”

   “What do you mean?” you chuckled, feeling the pain ease up.  “Thank you for taking care of me.”

   He glowed at your words, eyes softening even more as he placed a kiss over the bandage.

Echo:  Remains calm and gently tends to your injury with care

   He paused when he heard your sharp wince, glancing up from his screen to see you biting back a yelp and backing away from the panel you’d been working diligently on for the last several minutes.

   “You alright?” he asked, the concern evident as he already set the holopad down on the desk and took a step closer to see what was wrong. 

   “I was just trying to rewire this, and-” your sentence ended in another hiss.  “Ow, ow!  It burned me.”

  Echo approached with a sympathetic look and offered his hand in a silent question.  You placed your hand carefully in his and tried to remain so he could get a look.  “Not too bad, though it doesn’t look like it tickled.”  

   This earned a chuckle from you, causing the corner of his mouth to turn up in a smile at your amusement.  He paused to wipe a stray tear that had fallen down your cheek.  “Let’s get you a bacta patch so it can heal.  Alright?”  

  You nodded.  “Alright.”

   Echo left you only for a moment to dig into the medical supplies and return with the patch.  Each of you lent a hand to apply it together, and he smoothed the patch over with the tender swipe of his hand before meeting your eyes again.

   “Is that better?”

   “Yeah, it is,” you replied.  “Thank you.”

   He leaned in to kiss another stray tear from your cheek.  “You’re welcome.”

[misc-headcanons]

Can I get a scenario for Zoro opens up to his s/o about Kuina?

Zoro/Reader: A Single Step

It had all started when Zoro had been enjoying a nighttime bottle of sake with his s/o on the deck, laughing and looking up at the stars together. When Zoro turned over the bottle to find that it was empty, ____ had stumbled their way up to a standing position and headed to the kitchen to grab another one from the cellar below-deck. Zoro followed behind them, and the two of them slurred their words as they playfully nudged and shushed each other to not wake the rest of the crew. 

"Ok...Okay, you turn on th' light," Zoro said, "And I'll open the door to the booze room."

"The cellar," ____ corrected with a titter, flicking on the light to the kitchen and then moving to swat Zoro's head. "You can store stuff in a cellar that isn't booze, you know."

"Like what?"

____ blinked and racked their fuzzy memory for an example of one of the many things one can keep in a cellar. 

"You know...Stuff?"

The two of them laughed and made their way to the large wooden floor panel leading to the cold cellar underneath the kitchen. While Zoro leaned down to slide it, ____ took the opportunity to eye their boyfriend's backside with a grin while he was bent over and crouching. The panel easily moved aside, and Zoro took a step down the wooden staircase; suddenly, he felt ____ pushing up against his back as they tried to worm their way around him.

"First one down there gets to pick the sake," they declared, squirming to push past Zoro. "No more cheap shit; I'm getting the good stuff!"

Zoro tensed as they tried to maneuver on the narrow steps and groped around in the dimly-lit entrance to the cellar. Before he could snap at them to not rush down there, he saw ____ stumble on the next step and then start to fall backwards. They let out a sharp gasp that sent a cold chill down Zoro's spine; whether it was because of the sake he'd had, or from the sudden adrenaline rush as he saw ____ fall, time seemed to slow down to a crawl. They're going to fall. They're going to fall, they're going to die if they fall, just like--

Even if he wasn't sober, Zoro's reflexes as a swordsman were still lightning fast. He immediately grabbed ____ by the front of their shirt with one hand and jerked their body forward towards him, and then he immediately put his other arm around their back to keep them secure and close to him. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears, and he felt a thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead. The sound of his s/o's breathing and the small puffs of air against his skin helped calm him down slightly. Still breathing. Still breathing… Zoro's chest rose and fell, and he held them a bit tighter in his arms. They're still here.

____ snorted out a laugh and rested their head on Zoro's shoulder. "Whew, you saved my ass there," they giggled, their cheeks warm and the smell of sake lingering on their breath. They rocked back and forth against Zoro on the staircase while talking in a sing-song-y voice. "I need to be more carefuuuuul--"

They cut off their drunken little ditty with a small gasp as Zoro abruptly marched up the stairs while still holding them. When they were just about to ask what the hell he was doing, or where he was going, he firmly put his hands on either side of ____'s shoulders and glared at them. Now that they were no longer in the dim, barely existent light of the basement, ____ could see his features clearly; their eyes widened a bit when they saw the intense look on his face and the angry tears in his eyes. "Never, ever do that again," Zoro demanded. His voice was no longer relaxed and breezy the way it usually was when he was drunk, but tense and thick. ____ couldn't remember the last time he was this close to tears around them. He shook them a little bit as he held them, trying to put some sense into them and make them see how dangerous that was just now. "What if I didn't catch you? You could've broken your damn neck!" 

____ blinked up at Zoro, feeling a wave of shame wash over their chest. "It...Ok, sure, I won't," they said slowly, confused and taken aback by his extreme and emotional reaction. "Look, Zoro, I'm fine. Okay? Just calm down." They were hesitant for a second, and then spoke again. "Why are you acting like this over one stupid trip down the stairs? I mean, you're protective, but…" ____ looked up at them. "I probably woulda just fallen and twisted my ankle. It's like, five steps total! And--"

"That doesn't matter," Zoro snapped. "You can still die from a fall down a short set of stairs, and I would've...I would've…" He trailed off and looked away, relaxing his grip on their shoulders a bit before sighing through his nose. "Just...be more careful when you go down the stairs like that. Okay?"

____ furrowed their brows and gently cupped Zoro's face as they guided him to look at them again. "Hey," they murmured, their voice laced with concern. "Tell me what's wrong."

Zoro resisted a bit against their hand and refused to look at them. "Nothing," he dismissed. "I just want you to be more careful."

____ pulled him to look at them again, staring straight into his eyes. "Zoro," they insisted firmly. "What is it?"

Zoro was silent, clenching his jaw slightly as he stared back at them. He bit a part of his lower lip and wondered what he should say; he hadn't talked about what had happened to Kuina ever since...well, since it had happened. It was already painful to think about, so he'd always try to think of something else before he started to feel that weight on his chest that never seemed to leave him completely ever since he had gone to her funeral. Talking about it would probably be even more painful. 

Still, this was ____-- not just a friend, and not just one of his nakama either. He didn't want to keep anything from someone so close to him, they deserved to know the truth about his past without him closing himself off, just for the sake of his own feelings. 

He finally came back to reality and out of his own head when ____ took a step closer to put their head on his shoulder again, putting their arms around him. "I'm sorry," they said quietly, their voice a bit wobbly, just like their drunken stance as they swayed against him a bit. "I. Um, I dunno what...this…is all about exactly--" They gently pressed their hands against his back. "But whatever it is, I'm sorry."

Zoro leaned against them and wrapped his arms around them. "It's not your fault," he replied, holding them close. "It's because of…" He felt the weight on his chest slowly starting to sink further and further as he remembered Kuina. "Of something that happened a long time ago, to a friend of mine."

____ was silent as they waited for Zoro to continue, not wanting to interrupt him. Zoro slowly pulled away from them and led them to the two seats near the kitchen table. Zoro sat next to ____ and crossed his arms while he leaned forward a bit. "I learned how to be a swordsman from an old man who had his own dojo," he began. "And he had a daughter named Kuina…"

The entire time Zoro told the story of his childhood friend, ____ was dead silent and their expression remained largely unchanged as he talked. When he finally explained Kuina's untimely death from her accident, the weight on Zoro's chest had made it hard for him to breathe, let alone talk. Still, he simply clenched his fists and powered through that suffocating ache, wanting to finish what he'd started now that he'd finally decided to talk about Kuina. When he'd finished explaining, he could feel the sting of his palms from where his nails had dug in and left imprints on his skin.

____ was quiet for a long time after he'd finished speaking, and when they seemed to have gotten their thoughts together, they simply scooted their chair closer to Zoro so they could rest their hand against his and squeeze it gently. "I'm...I'm so sorry," they said finally, their voice cracking a bit. "If I'd known, I wouldn't have done that."

Zoro shrugged. "There wasn't any way for you to know," he replied, his voice a bit hollow and flat. "Not unless I had decided to tell you. But I didn't want to talk about it--about her." His chest burned with shame, and he looked down at the table between them. "If I wasn't so afraid of talking about it until now, this wouldn't have happened. It's my fault, in the end."

"No, 's not your fault," ____ insisted, slurring their words a bit. They smiled a bit. "Even if I didn't know about her, it was still a jackass move for me to play around on the stairs like that while I'm drunk."

Zoro's lips had the faintest hint of a smile as he glanced back up at them. "You are pretty stupid when you're drunk," he replied. "I should've just kept that whole bottle to myself, since you're such a lightweight on top of that."

____ rolled their eyes and playfully punched Zoro's shoulder. "We all have our flaws, you know," they replied with a grin. "I may be a dumbass when I'm drunk, which is pretty often when you've got my lack of tolerance. And you're a clueless dummy who couldn't navigate his way out of a wet paper bag, even when you're stone-cold sober." 

Zoro gently hit them back as they laughed a little bit, and then there was a beat of awkward silence. After a moment, ____ took Zoro's cheek in their hand again and gently squeezed it. "Hey...Is it weird if I thank you?"

Zoro raised an eyebrow. "For...what?"

____ moved closer and warmly kissed the other side of Zoro's face. "For telling me that, even when it probably hurts like hell to talk about," they replied plainly. "And for carin’ about me so much that you'd get this upset when I almost hurt myself for such a dumb reason. And for just bein’ with me, I guess." They smiled and kissed Zoro's cheek again, enjoying the lingering scent or sake on both of their lips as their mouth landed a bit closer to his this time. “Now...if I go extra slow down to the cellar, can I please be the one to pick out a bottle of sake?”

“You can pick it, but I’m gonna make sure you get down there properly,” Zoro said. He rose up from his chair and hoisted ____ over his shoulder before they could react. They let out a surprised laugh as Zoro walked to the cellar entrance and carefully escorted them down the stairs with the grace and dignity of a knight--a drunk knight, carrying an equally drunk and giggly sack of potatoes over his shoulder.

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #225

Thu Apr 29 2020 [10:09 PM] Wack'd: So the first two and two-thirds pages are something strange. Or I guess they're strange from an in universe perspective. [10:10 PM] Wack'd: It's basically a condensed version of the back half of the previous issue, rather than  a recap. So reading these back to back it feels like everyone's reliving a slightly different, slightly faster version of the same events. [10:10 PM] Bocaj: Yeah that happens [10:11 PM] Bocaj: I complain about comics not establishing context with recap pages enough that I can’t really say boo about this kind of thing [10:11 PM] Aleph Null: it’s just a jump to the left [10:11 PM] Aleph Null: and then a step to the right [10:11 PM] Wack'd: I think I might actually prefer it to the writer clumsily trying to give all of this information again in dialogue? [10:12 PM] Wack'd: It's basically a previously-on. [10:12 PM] Wack'd: Though the fact that it's not really marked as such is weird [10:12 PM] Bocaj: Like Aleph’s Japanese animes [10:12 PM] maxwellelvis: Remember recap pages? [10:13 PM] Bocaj: I’ve heard of them [10:14 PM] Wack'd: I think also what's throwing me is that they try to hit some of the same dramatic beats again? Like, you're not really going to convince me "the blind king weeps in crimson" is vital story information

[10:15 PM] maxwellelvis: Because it sounds cool [10:15 PM] Bocaj: Well that’s nightmare fuel [10:16 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, I've spent a weirdly long time talking about a recap, but I this is probably the normal amount of time I spend on the first three pages so be glad you're still getting content I guess [10:17 PM] Bocaj: I do like content [10:19 PM] Wack'd: Interesting thing about reading these blind and relaying that to you is that it's hard to know in the moment what information will and won't be relevant. For instance, I didn't really make much of this scene last issue:

[10:20 PM] Wack'd: But I wish I had, because it makes this moment look friggin bonkers in context:

[10:20 PM] maxwellelvis: "Consistency? What's that?" [10:21 PM] Wack'd: We've hit a new level of Sue as a blank-slate stock-woman-character: the same writer is making her either a nag or a worrywart one issue apart basically on a whim. [10:22 PM] Wack'd: Also: "just wants a normal life" Sue is the most boring version of Sue [10:23 PM] Bocaj: Just a receptacle for women stereotypes? [10:23 PM] Wack'd: Moreorless, yeah [10:23 PM] Umbramatic: the Ur-Woman-Stereotype [10:23 PM] Bocaj: Boo [10:23 PM] Bocaj: Defined personality women are great [10:24 PM] Wack'd: Agreed [10:24 PM] Wack'd: Moving along, we get a very long-winded explanation of the exact science of how this place works which I'm sure makes complete sense [10:24 PM] Bocaj: Science in comics is always to the highest standards [10:24 PM] Bocaj: Always [10:26 PM] Wack'd: Reed is like "I'm not really fine with being threatened and woulda saved your life anyway" and Korgon's like "y'know what, I trust you, we're cool now" [10:26 PM] Bocaj: See: he shoulda just said please to begin with [10:26 PM] maxwellelvis: "Oh, I shoulda thought'a that" [10:27 PM] Wack'd: Ha! He really does just send Vikings to go shopping for him

[10:27 PM] Bocaj: God. In a modern comic we’d see some Vikings at the supermarket and it would be great [10:29 PM] Wack'd: Have I mentioned yet Doug Moench seems to *really like science*

[10:30 PM] Bocaj: SCIENCE! :D [10:30 PM] maxwellelvis: Nah, like, not superscience. Real science. [10:30 PM] Umbramatic: i am glad that reaction image is making the rounds [10:31 PM] Wack'd: So Reed does a lot of research and asks a lot of questions and thinks really hard (all in narrative captions, you're not missing much) and eventually he's finally ready to operate! [10:31 PM] Bocaj: Woo [10:32 PM] Wack'd: Buuuuuut the Four's powers go haywire again. Korgon has a machine that cures them of the radiation to stabilize them, but Wiglif--suspicious guy from earlier--thinks they just wanna be at full strength so they can kill Korgon and escape. [10:33 PM] Bocaj: Dammit Wiglif! That’s such a Wiglif thing to think! [10:33 PM] Wack'd: To shut him up, Korgon gives Hrolf--trusting guy from earlier--a "Darkfield Rod" that will nullify their powers if they try any funny business. [10:34 PM] Wack'd: And then Korgon immediately falls unconscious. [10:34 PM] Umbramatic: that doesn't sound omnious at all [10:34 PM] maxwellelvis: I give it five minutes before Wiglif tries to steal it. [10:34 PM] maxwellelvis: NO! Five PANELS [10:35 PM] Wack'd: To be generous I will not count these three where we cut to Asgard

[10:35 PM] Bocaj: Oh hi Thor [10:36 PM] Bocaj: I didn’t know you’d be in this book [10:36 PM] Wack'd: "Just considering a crossover, m'boy! I just got the faintest whiff some other book is stealing our shtick!" [10:36 PM] Bocaj: I’m going to be imagining Odin speaking like the king of Hyrule forever now [10:37 PM] Bocaj: I want you to know what you’ve done [10:37 PM] Wack'd: I apologize for nothing [10:37 PM] Bocaj: =__= [10:37 PM] maxwellelvis: Sorry not sorry [10:37 PM] Wack'd: Anyway they do the procedure and we're not sure if it works. And then another cutaway! Sorry max it's been more than five panels [10:38 PM] Umbramatic: vsfb jnjgfdmkb ;zgl,;.' n [10:38 PM] Bocaj: To the punishment dome with you [10:39 PM] maxwellelvis: *the dome.gif* [10:39 PM] Wack'd: Hey what the heck does that third panel mean? Did...did Alicia just get a vision of the North Pole? Or, like...uh...I actually don't have a second guess

[10:41 PM] Bocaj: When did Alicia brunette [10:41 PM] maxwellelvis: She overshaded her hair this morning [10:41 PM] Wack'd: It's been orange for a while now, too [10:42 PM] Bocaj: She’s supposed to be close enough to Sue that she can be a bad imposter [10:42 PM] Umbramatic: technicolor anime hair [10:42 PM] Bocaj: It’s the foundation of a good 60% of the things I mock Johnny for [10:42 PM] Wack'd: I think we're all okay quietly forgetting that except you for some reason [10:42 PM] Bocaj: See also 60% [10:42 PM] Wack'd: Mocking Johnny is admittedly a pretty good reason [10:43 PM] Wack'd: Ben also had a crush on Sue in the very early days if you want to take that ball and run with it [10:43 PM] Bocaj: It definitely has layers [10:43 PM] maxwellelvis: You've both made it weird. [10:43 PM] Wack'd: Anyway the procedure worked! Probably! Korgon decides he's just gonna assume it worked.

[10:44 PM] maxwellelvis: Was he always that tall? [10:44 PM] Umbramatic: always a safe bet [10:44 PM] Wack'd: (Y'ever notice Reed's the only one who ever grows even a little facial hair? Did Johnny just never go through puberty from the neck up?) [10:45 PM] Wack'd: @maxwellelvis : Yeah, we've just seen him laying down on a nebulously high platform so far. Ben remarks on seeing him for the first time he's like 15 feet [10:45 PM] maxwellelvis: I think he just shaves regularly to keep up his heartthrob gimmick. [10:46 PM] Bocaj: Here’s Johnny with a beard [10:46 PM] maxwellelvis: When he gets on in years, he's probably planning to let it grow out so that the Human Torch can have a *flaming beard* [10:46 PM] Bocaj: How much do you hate this? [10:46 PM] maxwellelvis: Like that. [10:46 PM] Wack'd: Sure, but if Reed has stubble from tirelessly working on this procedure...well, I guess Johnny mighta found time to shave [10:46 PM] maxwellelvis: He can just burn stubble off and they're in a literal house of mirrors. [10:46 PM] Wack'd: That's not a bad look on him. He's like the hot version of a grizzled old sailor [10:47 PM] Umbramatic: dilf [10:47 PM] maxwellelvis: I want to imagine someone said to him at some point, "Okay, but consider: A beard of FIRE!" [10:48 PM] Wack'd: I feel like "flaming beard" is a gay joke somehow but like. If Johnny has a partner who's overtly stereotypically homosexual that's the opposite of a beard? [10:48 PM] Wack'd: Unless he doesn't want people to know he's straight, I guess [10:48 PM] Bocaj: Beard of FIRE? [10:48 PM] maxwellelvis: I mean he probably has some sort of LGBT following. [10:49 PM] maxwellelvis: Chamber? What are you doing in Japan? [10:49 PM] Wack'd: One of my earliest exposures to this character outside of the Story films was an essay on why he's definitely gay, so [10:49 PM] Bocaj: Having a flaming beard [10:51 PM] Wack'd: I tried Google to find the essay but it turned out the one piece of corroborating evidence I remember it is one that literally the entire Internet has picked up on at some point [10:52 PM] Wack'd: Do yourself a favor, google "johnny storm fire island". Or don't, and let it be a pleasant surprise in like 90 issues. [10:52 PM] Bocaj: Can doooo [10:52 PM] Bocaj: The latter [10:54 PM] Wack'd: "I think I might be Satan, we should talk about that later" is not a good way to make me eager to talk to you later

[10:56 PM] Wack'd: While everybody else is celebrating, Korgon loads up enough radiation to keep this place running for another hundred years, and then asks Reed to make him mortal again [10:56 PM] Wack'd: Wiglif ovehears and is going to do something sneaky [10:57 PM] Wack'd: The next day Reed tries it, but someone tampered with the machine overnight. Gee I wonder [10:58 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Korgon is now more powerful than ever and fucking pissed [10:58 PM] Bocaj: Dammit Wiglif! [11:00 PM] Wack'd: 'If you press this red button, you get godlike powers and life-giving laser beams, BUT everything looks real spooky forever"

[11:00 PM] maxwellelvis: *Sweating superhero guy* [11:00 PM] Bocaj: I mean you take the bad you take the good you take what’s left and there you have [11:01 PM] Bocaj: Spooky shadow monsters [11:01 PM] Wack'd: The fantasts of life [11:01 PM] Umbramatic: fucking paralasys demons [11:02 PM] Wack'd: Haha WHOOPS

[11:02 PM] Umbramatic: gee willikers, that was a curveball [11:03 PM] Wack'd: Anyway from here things get predictable [11:04 PM] Bocaj: Fucking Wiglif [11:04 PM] Wack'd: There's a fight, it looks like the Four are doomed, Thor shows up, the tide is turned [11:05 PM] Wack'd: For some reason when I first glanced at this panel I thought that second speech bubble was coming from one of the Vikings

[11:05 PM] Bocaj: Yay Thor [11:05 PM] Wack'd: "Uh, boss. Hey. You get that's the literal god of thunder, right? And you want us to, what, shoot him with lasers? Maybe think about this?" [11:06 PM] Bocaj: Lasers are just light and Thor’s Baldrother shines lights out of his armpits [11:07 PM] Wack'd: Korgon is so pissed by his impending defeat he's just like "fuck this, I'm just gonna destroy everything, including this dome" [11:08 PM] Bocaj: Hey sometimes you gotta cut your losses [11:08 PM] Wack'd: Wiglif: 😟 [11:10 PM] Wack'd: The Four and Thor are at a loss so Thor summons Odin [11:11 PM] Wack'd: 

[11:13 PM] Wack'd: This is kind of a solution for a different problem than Korgon has. Like. He doesn't want to be a God? It was kind of thrust on him? I guess it's true that God needs followers and followers need a God, but if he's content to be a follower I don't really see an issue with that [11:13 PM] maxwellelvis: He also has a responsibility to these people. [11:13 PM] Wack'd: And it's not like he abandoned his people, he left them 100 years of free energy, during which time they could've solved things on their own in any number of ways [11:13 PM] Bocaj: Yeah I don’t really understand what Odin is getting at [11:14 PM] Wack'd: Also, outside the religious philosophy stuff [11:15 PM] Wack'd: It's a bit naff to just have an all powerful being show up and solve the heroes problems. Especially if it's not with superpowers but rather with delivering the intended message of the story [11:15 PM] maxwellelvis: Have the Four solved any problems on their own this entire run? [11:15 PM] Wack'd: Like you could've had Reed talk about the responsibilities of leadership or Ben talk about being a freak or Sue talk about how sacrificing a normal life can be worth it for the people you care about [11:16 PM] Wack'd: None of those would've been fresh or original but they at least would've been, you know, the main characters solving the problem of their own book [11:16 PM] maxwellelvis: They needed Gabriel to deal with Scratch, they needed Captain Marvel to deal with the Skrulls, they needed Thor to deal with Korgon [11:16 PM] Umbramatic: geez [11:17 PM] maxwellelvis: They've been reduced to guest stars in their own book! [11:17 PM] Bocaj: Oof [11:17 PM] Bocaj: FIRST FAMILY [11:18 PM] Wack'd: Things have been kind of guest cast heavy yeah! Don't know what's up with that and I suspect if you asked Moench or Sienkiewicz they wouldn't remember, besides Gabriel being Moech's baby [11:18 PM] maxwellelvis: Are there any stories from before the hiatus by them that I missed? [11:19 PM] Wack'd: It's weird thinking about the fact that I'm currently reading a run of comics that were written by guys with social media presences who seem fairly approachable [11:19 PM] Wack'd: I don't know if it would work but I could probably just ask them things if I wasn't a dick about it [11:20 PM] Wack'd: Not sure there's a kind way to be like "why are there so many guest stars in this year's worth of comics you wrote 40 years ago" but [11:21 PM] maxwellelvis: Something like, "Hey, I'm reading through your brief Fantastic Four run you had with Bill Sienkiewicz and there seem to be quite a few stories in a row where the Four's issue is solved by someone from another book? Do you remember what was up with that?" [11:21 PM] Wack'd: (Btw Moench and Sienkiewicz were doing a *Moon Knight* run simultaniously with this which is why Sue was reading an issue to Franklin last time. Go figure) [11:21 PM] maxwellelvis: Heh [11:22 PM] Umbramatic: oh huh [11:22 PM] Wack'd: Yeah there's really no way to phrase this that doesn't sound like "why did you write this so bad" [11:22 PM] Wack'd: Ah well [11:23 PM] maxwellelvis: The best-case scenario other than getting some hot scoop on the Marvel offices at that time is probably Doug Moench suddenly realizing that himself. [11:23 PM] Bocaj: Were they long term writers or doing some fill ins and one offs? [11:23 PM] maxwellelvis: They did like ten issues. [11:23 PM] Bocaj: I’m in a period of that in avengers. There’s not a lot of guest stars but they’re a lot of inconsequential issues [11:25 PM] Bocaj: Shame because there are one off villains and characters that would have been interesting to be picked up for more stuff [11:30 PM] Wack'd: Yeah, ten issues and Moench wrote an annual. [11:31 PM] Wack'd: But also, their first issue announced that we were sticking with them for a while--I suspect it was intended to be a longer run [11:31 PM] Wack'd: And then Bryne sniped them somehow

[mycupoffanfiction]

His Second Chance Part 18

Bucky x Reader

His Second Chance Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Bucky comes back from Wakanda with Steve, ready to begin his recovery from his days as the Winter Soldier, but there’s one thing he doesn’t take into account - you.

Warnings: Slight anxiety, language, fluff.

Word count: 2500

Bucky is forced to face the press, a sad discovery is made and the Reader helps Bucky to process a situation.

ALL TAG LISTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN 💖 feel free to come and chat, my blog is always open for you 💕

_______________________________

A sigh passed your lips as you stood behind a large black screen, behind a stage, peeking out to see crowds of reporters and attendees. “Was this really necessary?” You sighed, glancing over at Steve while Bucky was having his microphone tested. “According to Pepper, yes.” Steve sounded just as annoyed as you felt. “According to me, no.” He concluded, giving Bucky a sidelong apologetic look. “Can’t I go out there with him? This could be more damaging than helpful.” You hissed, trying to keep your voice down while you stressed. “No, he’s gotta do it by himself.” Steve shook his head, planting his hands down on your shoulders. “We’ll be here for him when he’s finished, he knows we will, sweetheart.” Steve tried to reassure you. “It doesn’t feel like it’s enough.” You murmured to no one in particular, but Steve heard you and he didn’t say it, but he agreed.

 Tony and Pepper had set up a press conference, in the hopes that Bucky speaking out publicly could help to clear the air, not that you thought it would do much good for Bucky though. The crowd, while not the largest you had seen, was still very overwhelming. You were feeling anxious for him, you could only imagine what the poor guy was feeling while he was waiting at the side of the stage.

 Why do I have to wear a suit? Why do I have to do this at all? Oh god. There’s so many fuckin’ people. There’s gonna be some real pushy assholes too.

She looks worried, god she looks like she’s about to have a fucking panic attack. Bucky looked on at you while you stuck close to Steve’s side, practically smooshing yourself against him.

 Bucky strode over to you both, leaning in to Steve’s side as he gave him a hug. “Can you take her out? She looks like she’s about to panic and I don’t wanna worry about my girl while I’m up there.” Bucky whispered in Steve’s ear. “You got it, pal.” Steve nodded, clapping Bucky on the back. “Good luck, bud.”

Bucky pulled you against him, squeezing you tightly and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be alright doll; you stick with Stevie. I’ll be out in a while.” Bucky gave you a half smile, leaning down to kiss you on the lips. “You don’t want me here?” You sounded more than a bit offended. Shit, well done. “Pretty girl, I do, but you look like you’re about to keel over, I need you intact when I get off that stage.” He smirked, trying to play off his own nerves with light humour. You chuffed a little laugh and shook your head. “I suppose you’re right.” You reached up to peck his cheek before you backed out of his arms, uttering good luck to him before you stepped back and stood by Steve.

 Steve had dragged you off to a little café around the corner, away from the press conference and tried to distract you with all sorts of random conversation, although, it didn’t work very well and you sat at the table, half listening while you chewed on your lip.

 “I bet you didn’t think I didn’t noticed when I saw that Avengers comic book in that basement of your when I found you.” Steve smiled to himself, remembering the day he’d let himself in and examined your shitty living space. “You- what?” You almost choked on your tea. Your cheeks flushed red as you held your cup close to your lips to try and distract away from your flustered features. “Were you a fan?” He teased, leaning in a poking you gently on the arm. You let out a little strangled noise, embarrassment taking hold and making it very obvious what the answer was. “You were a fan!” He chuckled.

 “C’mon, in all the years I can’t believe we’ve never talked about this, who’s your favourite?” He grinned, nudging you. “Steeeeve.” You groaned, putting your tea down and avoiding eye contact. “Is it me? I bet it’s Sam, no Wanda, probably Wanda.” He giggled like a school girl. “Stevie, Sam and Wanda weren’t part of the Avengers back then.” You reminded him, catching him out and he shook his head affectionately. “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re my favourite.” You smiled, looking up at him with a sweet look in your eyes. “Until I met Bucky and then he took your spot.” You grinned like the devil and Steve feigned offence, gasping and clasping his hand to his chest. “He’s not even an Avenger!” Steve cried out dramatically, the smile on his face telling you he wasn’t the least bit offended.

 Bucky was peppered with questions on the panel, the host managing the crowd for him while he sat uncomfortably, gaze nervously flitting from person to person as he tried desperately to keep himself calm.

“Mr Barnes, is it still possible for you to become the Winter Soldier?”

“Was Hydra controlling you or did you have a form of choice?”

Breathe. Breathe through it, answer politely.

Bucky threw out a lot of simple no’s and yes’, but there were a few questions that boiled his blood or made him want to lecture the fuck out of the reporter. “Do you feel yourself a danger to your fellow teammates?” Not anymore. “Are you still a threat?” No. “Are you mentally able to live a regular life?” Urgh.

 By the time it was over, Bucky was well and truly fed up of the array of questions that mostly felt recycled and rephrased over and over. Some felt like they were intentionally trying to piss him off and others were genuinely alright, although those were few and far between. But at least it was over and hopefully Stark would never make him do that ever again. Especially while wearing a damn suit.

 “It was mostly awkward, lots of the same questions repeated with different wording, lots of uncomfortable questions about my personal shit.” Bucky groaned as he walked alongside you, top buttons of his shirt open, tie loosened and his blazer was replaced with a warm zip up hoodie instead. “You woulda’ hated it doll.” He chuckled to himself, imagining you wanting to mouth off every one of the rude reporters he’d encountered, knowing full well you would have gone into protective girlfriend mode had you been present. “I suppose it’s a good thing Steve made me go with him then.” You smirked. “Although that café wasn’t much better, I was just stuck in my head the whole time.” You sighed, leaning up against him as you followed Steve and Sam down to your usual coffee shop for some decent and well-priced hot drinks.

 “C’mon sweetheart, the coffee ain’t gonna buy itself!” Steve called over his shoulder as you trailed behind him and Sam. You stopped at the window of your usual coffee shop, inspecting something while Steve yanked on the door to no avail. “They closed today? They’re never closed.” Bucky grumbled. You studied the note in the window, your heart dropping a little.

Out of business.

This was where you’d had your first casual date with Bucky, where you’d admitted feelings for each other. It was where Bucky had released all of his troubles from therapy, told you so many secrets. It was where you had experienced some of the best times of your life, albeit in a simple way. The baristas had been friendly, welcoming and you’d both become regulars. And now it was gone. It was closed and your bright, warm coffee shop was no longer there.

 “Aw, of all the places to shut down!” Steve groaned. “They had the best fuckin’ coffee.” He complained, walking away towards Sam. “Language, Cap.” The pair of them immediately started bickering in the background as you and Bucky stood outside of the café. “M’sorry doll.” Bucky’s arm wound around your back, hand coming down to rest on the curve of your waist. “This place was our café.” You sighed, feeling a little silly that you were so upset about a café. “I know, darlin’.” Bucky kissed your temple. Bucky was just as attached to the memories in that coffee shop as you were, not that he was likely to say that out loud in ear shot of the boys.

 “C’mon, we’ll try and find somewhere new to go.” Bucky pulled you away rather reluctantly. It’s always the good places that go. Bucky huffed to himself as he walked you over to Steve and Sam who were still playfully insulting one another as they walked down the street. “There’s another coffee place around the corner.” Sam announced over his shoulder to you both as he held his phone up with he map open, not that you could see the details at all. “Go left.” Sam prodded Steve. “Are you kidding? It’s this way.” Steve veered him in another direction, the two of them pushing each other about as Steve tried to get Sam to position the map on his phone correctly to show him that he absolutely knew the way there.

Idiots. “It’s this way.” Bucky grumbled as you caught up with them and overtook them both.

 As expected, the coffee place you went to didn’t match the wonderful drinks you’d had from your usual place and you felt a little deflated from the overwhelming afternoon. All you’d wanted after Bucky’s press conference was some down time in your favourite café with your boys, but even that was out of the question.

 Bucky walked into the kitchen from your trip out and stared down at a brown envelope on the kitchen island as if it had offended him. “You got mail?” Sam sounded surprised as he walked up beside him. All Bucky did was let out a gruff humph as he pulled his hoodie off. “Oh, it’s the results, isn’t it?” He sighed, leaning on his elbows on the island, trying to catch Bucky’s line of sight. “Open it, man.” Sam nudged him gently. Not sure I want to. Bucky just stared at the envelope, a part of him just wanted to put it away and open it when he’d gained the courage or impulse to actually do it. It wasn’t that he was worried he’d failed, he had a doubt in his mind, a doubt that passing would bring him any joy at all.

 “C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? If you failed then…” Bucky unintentionally blocked Sam out, his voice going muffled in his ears. He took a deep breath, eyes trained on his name on the envelope.

Imagine if ma was here. Would she be proud? Would she be proud of you dating a pretty girl with a soft heart? Would she be proud of the man you’re becoming? She certainly wouldn’t be proud of the man you were. That’s for sure.

You weren’t him though.

 “Bucky? Hellooo?” Sam waved his hand in front of his face. “Where’d the Bucky of yesterday go? I miss the stupid cat photos and now you’re staring and being all silent like the day you arrived.” Sam grumbled. “Today did me in. Thought you hated ‘em.” Bucky spoke lowly before snatching the envelope from the island. “I kinda do, but they’re better than… Whatever this is.” Sam gestured at Bucky. “Thanks, Sam.” He huffed, turning to walk away. He only means well, keep cool.

 “Doll.” Bucky sounded tired, bothered, frustrated even as he stood in your doorway. You hummed in response, looking up from your book as you sat nestled under a blanket. “Will you open this for me, please?” Bucky asked as he walked into your bedroom, holding out the brown envelope. You lowered your book and looked up at him from your position on your nest of cushions on the floor. “What is it?” You asked, closing your book. “Results.” Bucky replied simply, voice gruff and deep. He was in an almost reclusive mood, but you were just thankful that he had willingly come to you.

 You took the envelope from him and got Bucky to sit down next to you. He awkwardly lowered himself onto your cushion pile and leant against you. “What’s got you too worried to open it, Sarge?” You asked, looking up at him. “I know it’s not the prospect of failing, Buck.” You quirked a brow before he could even think about lying to you.

 Just tell her, she’ll know what to say, she always does. “M’not scared of failing.” Bucky grumbled. “M’scared of passing.” He sighed, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. You looked up at him, confusion scrunching your brows together for a moment before you processed what he’d said. “You’re not sure you want this, are you?” You asked, resting the envelope on your lap. “No.” Bucky spoke just above a whisper. But neither are you. “I understand.” You maintained a soft smile.

 She never seems to judge, never seems to see you differently no matter what you tell her. Takes it all in her stride. Stronger than she gives herself credit for. Stronger than me.

“You don’t have to want it, Bucky.” You murmured. “Whatever is in the envelope doesn’t define you.” You looked down at it, fingers tracing over his name on the front. “It isn’t an order or an instruction to do something.” Gripping the envelope you picked it up. “At the end of the day, it’s just a piece of paper.”

“This paper doesn’t tell you to go into the Avengers full throttle. Doesn’t tell you to give up. Doesn’t tell you to live a different life. It tells you which doors are open and which are shut.” You handed him the envelope.

 Bucky looked down at you, the corners of his lips curving slightly. A new light, a new perspective. It tells you which doors are open and which are shut. I knew she’d know what to say, she always does. Bucky took the envelope and slowly slipped his finger under the top flap, carefully peeling open the closure. With a deep breath and a slow, long exhale, Bucky pulled the papers out of the envelope.

 Is this good? I suppose it is. Bucky lowered the papers, just enough for you to see the results and he shared a look with you. Bold letters, it was the only word you really saw on the paper, the rest of it could have been in another language and you wouldn’t have cared.

Passed.

“Think of it this way, all of the doors are open now, Bucky.” You smiled, his eyes softening as he met your gaze. “You can do anything.” You gripped his hand gently, Bucky squeezing your fingers slightly. “We can do anything.” You leaned up against him and Bucky let a smile crack across his lips.

As long as it’s with you, pretty girl.

_________________________________

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[beckzorz]

Cold Comfort (part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes & Avenger!Reader Words: 1408 Summary: Bucky visits while you’re sick in bed. Hurt/comfort. A/N: Soooo, Cold Comfort was definitely written a one-shot, but now it’s not anymore! I blame everyone who actually liked the first part! So thanks :* More to come...

Bucky carries you with a firefighter’s ease. Warmth radiates from him, even once you’re inside where it’s the usual seventy-one degrees. You lean your head against his shoulder. Shivers rack through you as feeling seeps back into your fingers and toes. Your eyes haven’t left his face; you trace the line of his jaw with your gaze.

In another time, in a dream, you might trace it with your hand. Or your lips.

Heat floods your cheeks even as pins and needles wrack your hands and feet. Bucky glances down at you with a pinched frown as he quickens his steps towards the residential wing.

“Hang in there, okay?”

You nod, too embarrassed to speak. Apart from tonight, you’ve barely spoken to him—barely looked at him, even! And all of a sudden, you can’t take your eyes away. Everyone on the team was good-looking in their own ways, but no one had stood out to you.

Until Bucky came looking for you.

“Bucky?”

“Hm?”

You press your hand against his collarbone. Your fingertips brush the skin over his shirt’s neckline as grogginess creeps in. “Thank you.”

From where you are, you can just make out how his cheek curves as he smiles. “Of course.”

Your hand lingers on Bucky’s chest until he stops in front of your suite’s door. He bends slightly to set you down, but the second your feet hit the floor your knees buckle. Bucky swears under his breath and steadies you.

“Get the door; I’ll help you in.”

You sniff, exhausted. You press your hand to the panel by your door; it unlocks with a click. “M’sorry. Thank you, Bucky.”

He helps you inside, through the living space and into the little dark bedroom. It’s a warm cocoon; your bed beckons you in. Bucky helps you peel off your sweatshirt, and then you crawl into bed, still shivering. You hold out your hand just enough for him to take it.

You smile shakily up at him. “Thank you, Bucky. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t say that,” he says. He kneels by your bedside, his face almost level with your own. “You’ll be okay?”

“Oh, sure.”

He rubs your fingers in his hand; the pins and needles make his touch burn, but the feel of his hand is worth it. God, it’s worth it.

“Alright,” he says at last. “Well, goodnight.”

—

Well, you are decidedly not okay.

Fifteen hours later, you’re still bundled in bed. You had managed to make it to the bathroom around dawn, but even that short distance had been an ordeal. You’d fallen back into a fitful sleep until someone banged on your front door loud enough for you to hear from bed.

“Hello?” you call, but your voice is hoarse, barely audible even to yourself. Whoever’s there will no doubt assume you’re not home.

“It’s Bucky. You okay in there? Need anything?”

You open your mouth to answer, but a hacking cough stops you. Your eyes are watering by the time you’re done.

“Hey, let me in, hon,” Bucky calls. “I, uh, I know I just asked if you needed anything, but I brought soup anyway.”

You smile as you sniff and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. “Uh, FRIDAY? Could you let Bucky in?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The door clicks in the other room, and in a matter of seconds you hear Bucky rummaging through your kitchen cabinets. It suddenly hits you—Bucky’s inside. You try and neaten the blankets, your hair. After so long in bed, you must look awful. What will he think? You blow your nose one last time before he leans in through your door a bowl of steaming soup in his metal hand. His eyes rove over you, nestled as you are in the blankets, half-sitting up against your headboard.

“Hey,” you whisper—it’s as loud as you can manage.

Bucky’s smile is bright despite the worry in his eyes. He sits on the edge of your bed and offers the soup.

“It’s chicken noodle,” he says.

“Mmm.” The steam is warm against your face. You shift your grip and sip a spoonful. “Yum.”

“I used to feed Steve that recipe when he got sick.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Really?” He made this—for you? You sip another spoonful. You can feel it down to your bones. The fogginess in your head starts to recede. “Wow, it’s fantastic.” Even your voice sounds better than before.

“Well, it tastes different than it used to. Gotta use different noodles and all.” He stares into the distance, eyes unfocused. You lean forward and squeeze his arm so he looks back.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

He covers your hand with his own. His eyes are gentle on yours. He’s so close; you swallow. His eyes drop—to your mouth? You can’t be sure.

“So,” he says, pulling back, “how ya feelin’?”

“Not great,” you admit. You shift higher on the bed, putting some distance between you. You fix your eyes on Bucky’s hand, now resting on his thigh. “Haven’t been out of bed for more than five minutes since you last saw me. The soup’s helping, though.”

Bucky frowns. He puts his flesh hand on your forehead, then the metal one. Oh—can he feel with that?

“You have a fever,” he says accusingly.

“O-oh?” Your face burns. After you’d been stupid enough to lie in the snow without a coat, of course you have a fever. Is it contagious? Have you exposed Bucky? “You might want to keep a safe distance,” you warn.

“Don’t be silly,” he says. “I can’t get sick, remember?”

“Remember?” You cough.

Bucky blinks. “Did you not know?”

You put the soup on your nightstand and hug your knees to your chest. “I mean, no one’s told me all the details about the serum. I know you guys are strong, and you survived, but… ”

Bucky lets out a breath between his teeth. He turns away, his profile in stark relief against the far wall. “We’ve done a pretty crappy job of welcoming you, haven’t we?”

“Don’t say that, Bucky—you’re here, aren’t you?”

He snorts and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m here now, but I haven’t exactly put in the effort before now. I guess…” His mouth twists. “Well, there’s reasons. You know. Ishmael, and Makenna.”

You just stare. You’ve never heard either of those names before.

After a minute of silence, he looks over and groans.

“Oh for Chrissake… You don’t know? I thought Sam at least woulda told ya.”

“Told me what?” You pick up the soup bowl again and dig in. Your nose is running more now, thanks to the steam. You sniff and blink over at him.

Bucky twiddles his fingers between his knees. He doesn’t meet your eyes. “We’ve had new people join the team before—SHIELD agents, stuff like that,” he says slowly.  “For the short-term, like what you’re doing. And they were great. Good people, I mean. But…” He takes a steadying breath. “The last two died only a few months in, only a couple weeks apart.”

Your stomach churns, and you quickly put the soup aside. You clench your jaw in the hopes of staving off the sudden nausea in your gut.

So you hadn’t been imagining things. The team really was leaving you out—not out of snobbishness, sure, but…

You swallow hard.

They’ve been leaving you out because they’re waiting for you to die.

“So you’re all just waiting for me to pop off next.” If you weren’t so hoarse, maybe your bitterness would have seeped through. As it is, you just sound sad.

“Not like that,” Bucky mutters. “We’re just… afraid of connecting, I guess. Haven’t had the time to heal, not with everything else going on. Or maybe we’re all just emotionally stunted. I dunno.”

Now there’s a thought. Emotionally stunted? Your lips twitch. Maybe, despite everything, you’ll fit right in.

“When did all this happen?” you ask.

“Ishmael died in September. Makenna died in October.”

You gape. “Bucky, it’s barely December!” you rasp. “How did I not know about this?”

He sits up, sheepish, but there are tears in the corners of his eyes. “Like I said. We’ve been awful. But they—they were good people.”

“Oh, Bucky.” Screw keeping to a healthy distance—you wrap your arms around him, drawing him in until his face is buried in your shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

Bucky is silent, but after a moment his shoulders start to shake.

[dcarevu]

DCAU #20: Prophecy of Doom

“You gave him ten million dollars, sir? And to think I was fretting over the electric bill…”

Hey, guys, so lemme tell you about the craziest thing that just happened to me. There I was, dressed in my cloak at the DCAU brotherhood meeting. And the leader of the brotherhood, Nospoilerz, looked right at me and said, “You! Young man! You are in graAaAve danger! I see disappointment! I see pain! I see misery and woe!” I left the place scoffing to myself, not believing one word of it. But then I turned on Prophecy of Doom and I realized that this guy actually may have known what he was talking about.

Episode: 19 Robin: No Writers: Sean Catherine Derek (teleplay), Dennis Marks (Story) Director: Frank Paur Animator: Akom Airdate: October 6, 1992 Grade: D

Am I being too generous with that D? Because this is definitely my second-least favorite episode so far. It’s another Sean Catherine Derek/AKOM “classic” from season 1, and this just goes to show that sometimes reading the episode credits is all you need to do… Sigh… Bruce Timm himself has made certain remarks about both of these creative forces, citing AKOM as a subpar studio, and Sean Catherine Derek as a writer that would always try to throw in a big message, but could never really make it work in practice. We saw this in The Forgotten with the subject of homelessness, and we see it here again with the fortune teller who is actually just scamming people out of all their money. Yeah, she didn’t write the story of this one, only the script and such, but her fingerprints are all over the place when you break out the powder. Unless you’re a really good writer, a half-hour Batman show is just not a good way to get some of your important, socially-conscious messages across to the public. Who exactly wants to see that? Eric Radomski and Bruce Timm were going for a grim, crime-noir. Sean was pushing for a recycling bin and a god damn dog to be in the show, guys. I think recycling is as important as the next guy. And boy do I love a cute pupper. But this says a lot. Boy. Don’t you just wish that we got a whole episode about why we should should recycle? Just imagine how that woulda turned out.

We would see some of the “big, real world statements” taken on much later with Static Shock, and from what I understand, it often worked quite well. But this was after a lot of DCAU establishment. It also was a very different show than Batman TAS. Not to mention, well, Sean Catherine Derek wasn’t involved with Static Shock at all. I wish her no ill will, and I hope she’s happy writing for whoever she writes for nowadays, but the sooner these episodes we’re looking at leave her behind, the better. Reportedly, she clashed a lot with Bruce and Eric when it came to their visions for Batman the Animated Series, so overall I would say that she just was not meant to be part of this team, or wasn’t flexible enough to write stories that would suit this show.

I didn’t think he was legit until he showed me his kickass flyers!

Nostromos is the one-off villain of this episode, and I’m certainly not gonna be anxiously awaiting his return for a future episode. He’s a guy who supposedly has magic powers and the ability to read fortunes, but as we can tell from spending less than five minutes with him, he’s a big fraud. In this episode, it makes for some confusion as far as how we’re supposed to see and react to him. Mysterio from Marvel did this concept wayyy better because Mysterio was more frightening than this guy. At least back when I was a kid he was (yeah, I get it, he’s got a big bowl on his head)! With Nostromos, we, the audience, along with Bruce Wayne, are skeptical of him from the beginning, and the way he carries himself makes it really hard to feel threatened by him at all.

Top 10 DCAU guyliner material

“The vibrations are right for prophecy.” This guy offers a translation to a completely lost Bruce Wayne

“You are merely the eye trying to view itself!” explains Nostromos. Now this guy looks just as confused as Bruce is. 

Even after we come to the conclusion that he likely was responsible for the sinking of the gambling cruise ship. He’s just so silly and his plan is so uninteresting. And then we see that the other people involved in Nostromos’ brotherhood (a big group of rich/important people) are eating up every word that he spews out, and we get music cues and other moments that almost seem to try and make us take him seriously. It makes the people in this episode seem like absolute dimwitted fools, and how all of them managed to finesse their way to the top of the money tree with that kind of gullibility is beyond me. The tone is really mixed. And it continues to stay mixed throughout the entire episode. It’s just weird to see Batman, the strong creature of the night who always saves the day (not literally, saving the day at night sounds bonkers), be in any sort of danger, but then see everyone else being idiots and that the villain is just a big joke.

“You!!!” This was a pretty poor-looking shot, especially when you see it in movement. 

Bruce’s glass mysteriously shatters.

And what is Nostromos’ plan? Well, his main one is to basically convince the brotherhood that an economic crisis is right around the corner in order to get them to give him all of their money. Is that not the least creative place you could go with a crazy cult in a Batman episode? The least they could have done was made it so that Nostromos wants to kill Bruce for a specific, personal reason or something. Things do get a little bit crazier eventually, but in a way that’s almost as dull as everything else. Nostromos ties Ethan Clark’s (a friend of Bruce in this episode) daughter to this giant solar system display, where she is in danger of being crushed if another planet happens to collide with her.

Seems to me like he could have made things a little simpler if he had just threatened to shoot her.     

This sequence just doesn’t visually suck me in, nor did it with Char. She thought it could have looked a lot better, especially when it’s such a preposterous idea. The episode needs to do something for me to fall under the spell of the suspension of disbelief. It has been said that Akom just didn’t have the chops to animate this the way it was asked for. And trust me, I believe that. It hasn’t taken me long to understand the impact of Akom on Batman the Animated Series. But in my mind…even with proper transition from the storyboards to full motion, is this really a scene that I would have been asking for? Did I really want a conclusion where Batman jumps around on moving papier-mâché planets gone awry?

This is pretty much the best we got, folks

So yes, I do in fact agree with Char, this scene could have looked a lot better. But I also have to ask the writers whether or not this was even a good idea in the first place. And Nostromos causes the planets to spin all over the place, past their normal speeds, by beating on the control panel and breaking it. Why does whamming on a piece of technology not usually just shut off the technology? It always sends it off on a deadly rampage. By the end, Batman escapes, saving Clark’s daughter. And Nostromos gets caught by a stray planet from the spinning display as it lands on top of him.

Nostromos and his crazy plot are much like how Red Claw ended up being a few episodes back. Has potential, then does nothing worth remembering with it. Y’know, this episode also feels like a 70’s Scooby Doo episode. The villain seems like a Scooby Doo villain, has a Scooby Doo villain-esque plan, and even gets caught like one of Fred’s traps. And y’know how usually Fred’s traps are completely over the top, but ultimately the animation and everything keeps it pretty underwhelming? That was the whole climax to this one. It’s like Batman was Scooby Doo, wrecking the bad guy’s plan and managing to trap them. I really wish everyone on the Batman TAS team had known better by this point when it comes to what type of show they should have been writing. Clearly some of them were in on it, but not some of those stubborn ones. I get that it’s still season one, but this episodes wastes time. Instead, we could have gotten something much better in its pace. But these writers were here taking up staff slots, not trying their hardest to produce a really good Batman show. They were too focused on only pushing hard enough to create a typical Saturday morning cartoon show, or a show that displayed a moral, and it’s like, another show could be used for things like that. I think when Paul Dini or Alan Burnett wrote their episodes, they made it so damn evident that they were pouring their hearts into the scripts, and were actually trying to make something good, something they they would have wanted to see. They were giving the best to Batman that they could. This show was airing before I was born. And even if it were brand new, it wouldn’t make any sense to hold a grudge or anything on some of these earlier writers. The ones who didn’t utilize the potential of a Batman show like this. Because what these writers did was make the good episodes seem even better. Not every episode may have been ground-breaking in this series. But even with those which weren’t quite up to snuff, with those which didn’t elevate the animation landscape, we still got so many episodes that did, and they are why the cartoon is remembered as being so important, so influential, and so gosh-darned entertaining. Them, and Batman going, “Psyyyyychic energiiiees, Alfred”. I could listen to that on repeat.

One of our establishing shots of the episode, use for a prelude which ultimately doesn’t end up being all that significant for the story. But at least the jazz was nice!

I don’t believe that we ever actually get any confirmation as to whether or not Nostromos planted this. I’m surprised an episode like this didn’t take the extra step to spell it out for us.

Uh oh, don’t let the fish drown!

Ethan and Lisa Clark. Wonder if they’ll appear past this episode.

Total Scooby Doo villain vibes.

Here are the mugshots 

These keyboard sound effects, though. Let’s get some official Batman TAS ASMR.

Batman flees the falling elevator, not falling victim to Nostromos’ plot

This was a pretty shitty fight scene.

Were you even trying to avoid that swing, Batman? He even gave you some time to react before he swung!

This was a decent shot.

Kevin Conroy’s acting was a lot of fun here. He put a tremble into Bruce’s voice that we all know is Bruce faking, but that’s only because we know better!

The most disturbing moment of Batman TAS so far. This damn smile. Especially with the way his eyes move. And you’re telling me that Bruce couldn’t hold in this smile? It’s not like he saw the camera and knew we were watching. They shoulda had him wink right at us while they were at it.

Maybe the bit that saved this episode from an F

Or maybe it was specifically this ass shot. And you say you watch Batman for the plot.

This is the shot our climax ends on. Just take it in.

This one was harder to write for some reason. Could have something to do with the fact that I’m staying in some friends’ living room and sleeping on their couch with another person over spring break. Not to mention, I have to do a lot of this typing on the floor. But I hope it gave something worth reading regardless! Here’s to a smoother review for next time. They can’t all be winners. Much like the episodes themselves. 

Char’s grade: C

Next time: Feat of Clay (Part 1) Full episode list here!

[lulusoblue]

Holo-Skating (Capril Xmas Drabble)

A Christmas present for @guide-to-the-galaxy, a wonderful friend who knows how to make me smile. Merry Christmas, Jo! Have some fluff

It was another day in space, another day away from home, and another mission where the humans were left on the Ulixes due to galactic racism against Terran-based lifeforms. April would have been mad if she wasn't used to it, but it seemed Casey's silent stomp out of the bridge meant that he was mad. The boys could only shrug and give another apology before going over another protocol run-through in case of an emergency.

Maybe April was mad, but if she was it was overshadowed. As she waved the boys off (while flipping them off in her head) something sad washed over her. She wasn't surprised any of the others not keeping track of the days, but she had been. And today, at some point, a version of her six months younger would be sitting down with her dad and her aunt for Christmas dinner. It was silly, what with the fate of Earth to focus on and the fact that April had already shared Christmas with her family this year, but still, there was a girl back home that was and... wasn't her. And that was never a comforting subject whenever it was brought up among them.

And as she was mulling over the time travel and time doubles and how the six of them had a year that was 50% longer, Casey skidded into her path out of the hanger. "We can't go back to the bridge."

"Casey," April groaned as she put her fingers to her temple, "we are not raiding the kitchen again. I'm sick just thinking about what happened last time."

"Can't relate, but that's not what I meant." He grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

As he punched in commands for the holoroom's control panel, April stepped inside and looked around the domed white room. "Whatever are you up to, Jones?"

Casey gave her his gap-toothed smirk from behind the display port. "You'll see. But you gotta close your eyes first."

"Really?"

"C'mooon, Red."

April rolled her eyes before she shut them, even putting her hands over her eyes for good measure. The gentle hum of a hologram came to her ears - "Hey, not yet! Don't open them yet!" "Getting impatient here, Jones!" - as well as the sound of the holoroom doors sliding shut and Casey's sneakers squeaking on the floor.

"Still loading!"

"Really, Casey?"

"Two seconds! ...Okaaaaay, now!"

April opened her eyes to bright lights and falling snow. The two of them stood alone in a projection of the ice rink, only it was much different from when she had last seen it. The barriers were lined with tinsel and wreaths, strings of lights hung down from all over the ceiling above them, and the ice they stood on glowed with etches of stars and snowflakes.

"Wow, this is... fancy."

"'Fancy'? That's it? And after I put so much into thinking about decorating the place!"

April folded her arms and raised a brow. "What is your angle with thinking about decorating the place you practise your puck shots?"

"Well, it's Christmas. Again."

"Never woulda guessed."

Casey grinned as he held out the boots from their space suits. "And I realised we haven't been keeping up your skating lessons since aliens invaded our planet. The second time."

April eyed the boots, smiling. "You're giving me an ice-skating lesson as a Second-Christmas gift?"

Another smirk, showing off the space where Casey once had teeth. "The turtles got you guard duty as a present."

In all fairness it wasn't the boys' fault, what with their attention and thoughts elsewhere. It was still something April knew she and Casey would teasingly hold over their heads.

The hover function in the boots worked well enough to substitute skates, save for the fact that there wasn't any grip on the ground. April had a couple of bruises to prove how that made hovering a tad more accident-prone. While Casey glided by balancing on one foot - "Show off!" "Let me have this!" - April was working on stopping without resorting to falling over. For all of the catch-up she had done to be close to the skills of ninja-since-age-seven, skating still proved to be a hurdle in grace.

Casey, however, managed to keep her from becoming a purple polka dotted student after the first couple of falls. He hovered alongside her and offered an arm when she was having trouble with the boots.

It was a while before April started to notice the glow of the ice was dimming and the lights above seemed to flicker in the faulty kind of way. Some of the decorations around the rink were even glitching and jumping out of place, floating in the air. "Uh, I think your rink's on the fritz, Jones."

"Huh?" He looked around them, and after a moment cursed under his breath. "Figures this thing can't keep up a good show when my brain's involved."

April carefully reached over to give his shoulder a bump. "Shush. It's not you, Casey. The professor told us the holograms aren't perfect with made-up spaces. It likes memory, not imagination."

"Hmm." Casey turned to skate backwards as he put his hands up behind his head. "This thing's got me working overtime for your present, Red."

"It's the thought that counts." April's smile turned sly. "Buuut let's hope the lights are just the hologram. I wouldn't want you losing any brain cells on my part."

He laid a hand over his heart and put on the saddest face April had only seen on a drama student. "I appreciate the concern and yet I am still hurt. Why do you torment me so?" And then the tree glitched between them.

There was screaming as the two jumped away from it. April tried to get control of her balance as she reached to grab for Casey. They struggled to keep themselves from falling, with the shock from the tree scare and their bursts of lung-busting laughter not helping matters. It was in vain, as they ended up on the fake ice anyway.

Casey waved a hand vaguely at the ceiling as he called for the normal rink between breaths, and all of the Christmas glamour faded. They were in the ice rink as April remembered it, dark save for the few lights that were left on for practise, and they were both still high on their amusement.

"Sorry, April," Casey finally said when they had finally calmed down. "Guess my brain cells weren't gonna cut it."

"Shut up." April propped herself up and gave his shoulder another jab. "Blame it on the space tech. It's not up to par with your mad decorating skills."

"I only think I have decorating skills," he quipped back, tapping his forehead, "remember?"

April shook her head, but as she looked back up at his face she saw something hanging in the air. A sprig of mistletoe, floating just above their heads.

When Casey noticed it, he started and shuffled away a little. He held his hands up in defence and squeaked, "Sorry, but I swear that's not me! No way!"

She smiled softly. "I know." And she reached out and pulled him in for a kiss.

[owlosaurusrex]

Here’s another snippet of another R76 project I’m working on (I have 3 going right now because I have no chill lol) It’s supposed to be at least 90% fluff and like a ‘chill’ fic but of course I take everything too seriously so it’s taking a while to finish the first chapter. Also, I hope the read more works for mobile users or else y’all are going to have to scroll past a massive amount of text I’m so sorry.

Anyway, it’s a modern au. Here’s what I have so far:

Gabriel had always hated the lighting in his office. The long panels, speckled with dead flies, doused the room in yellow artificial light that muted the fabrics he worked with. He’d been meaning to get them changed--had a list of changes, actually, but never had the time for it, or, more commonly, he forgot about them in favor of something more urgent. He looked at them every day when he sat down to work and he looked at them now from a much different perspective. Gabriel groaned and raised a hand to cover his eyes.

“Turn that shit off,” he said and heard a short laugh from the end of the couch near his feet.

“C’mon, boss, rise n’ shine!”

Jesse’s voice cut through whatever lingering haze of sleep Gabriel had clung to but he still couldn’t bring himself to move.

“I know it’s only been a couple hours but I let ya sleep as much as I could.”

Gabriel took a deep breath and tried to ignore the dull ache in the back of his skull.

“What time is it?”

There was a pause and Gabriel managed to peek out from between his fingers to see Jesse standing beside him. He looked like he was dressed in the same clothes as the day before and Gabriel wondered if he had slept at all.

“Well, it’s bout eight now,” he said, glancing at the clock hung on the wall behind him. “I’m guessin Ana will be here soon.”

Gabriel groaned again and rubbed at his face.

“Yeah, yeah, all right.”

“M’sorry, boss.”

It took more effort than it should for Gabriel to sit up but he managed, and could see the sympathy written on Jesse’s face.

“It’s all right,” Gabriel assured him even as he stretched and felt a certain stiffness in his back that promised problems for the rest of the day.

“If I could let ya sleep more I would.”

“I know, Jesse, it’s fine.”

Jesse looked as though he might argue but stopped and instead stepped away from the couch to the old staff room table. It was long and narrow and a little too big for the space but it had been there since Gabriel was a kid and he had no intention of moving it. On top of the table, aside from order forms and scraps of fabric, were two paper cups of what Gabriel hoped was coffee.

“Here, I went out and got us somethin, figured we’d be needin it,” Jesse said as he picked up the cups and returned.

Gabriel slid his legs off the couch and took the drink eagerly.

“Two sugars?” he asked even as he took a sip.

“Of course. How long have we known each other? And you're still askin if I got your coffee right?” Jesse shook his head as if the very concept was offensive and Gabriel snorted in amusement.

He moved over on the couch in an unspoken invitation that Jesse accepted with a deep sigh.

“Still can’t believe we managed it,” Jesse said after a few minutes of quiet coffee-drinking. He shook his head in disbelief.

“I’ve never seen you work that fast in my life.”

Gabriel shrugged and couldn't help but glance over at his work station against the wall furthest from the door. It was a desk rigged with little shelves and drawers and an old sewing machine, and Gabriel could practically feel the fabric in his hands just looking at it. There were still scraps of tulle and lace, and if Gabriel dared get closer he’s sure he left a mess of beads in his haste. He hated speed-fittings.

“It had to get done,” he said as if it hadn’t been a 3 day, full-time undertaking.

Jesse was shaking his head again and Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“We’ve done it before, quit acting like it’s some amazing fete.”

“It was amazing!” Jesse insisted even as Gabriel got to his feet and wandered around the small space, if only to help wake himself up.

He passed the staff table, filing cabinets, a mini fridge Jesse had insisted on having, and an old standing fan that was struggling to push hot air around the room before he reached his desk.

Yup, covered in beads.

“But, all dress-fitting miracles aside, really do wish you coulda caught some proper shut eye,” Jesse said and Gabriel glanced back at him. “woulda been nice if you didn't have to head out so early with Ana.”

“You can’t reschedule a flight, Jesse,” Gabriel said drily. “We’d be going to the airport regardless of what happened yesterday.”

“Yeah, but--”

“And you need the sleep, too. Don't act like you and Marcia didn’t pull your fair share of late-night work.”

Jesse huffed.

“Yeah but nothin like the work you did. And can’t Ana just pick up the cop on her own? You can meet em at your apartment or whatever.”

Gabriel turned back to his desk and glared down at the delicate beads scattered on its surface.

It wasn’t an unreasonable question, Gabriel had asked himself as much plenty of times over the last week as the arrival date grew nearer and nearer. Ana wouldn’t need him at the airport and Gabriel certainly didn't want to go, but he should probably try to be polite.

It had been over 20 years since he and Jack had  last seen each other and nearly as long since they’d lost contact. Or at least, since Jack stopped talking to him.

Gabriel took a deep breath and focused on sipping his coffee as long-dormant, bitter feelings tried to surface.

“You sure you’re all right?” Jesse’s voice dragged Gabriel out of his near trance-like state and he rubbed at his eyes.

“I just need a little time to wake up, that’s all--”

“Nah, not about that.”

Gabriel looked back at Jesse again and arched a brow.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Jesse said and looked hesitant to actually voice what was on his mind but Gabriel knew that he would. He always did. It was difficult to keep him from talking most of the time. “Ya know, Sombra was talkin bout this cop you’re bringin home, she said you two have some ‘history.’”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes and hid a frown by taking a drink of coffee.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm, she said you two were a thing once,” Jesse continued and Gabriel huffed irritably.

“And who told her that?”

Jesse shrugged.

“Hell if I know, you know she don’t like to give up her sources.”

Gabriel shook his head and returned his attention to his desk; searching for his phone.

“I hope that doesn’t mean she’s picking up bad habits again. It took a long time to get her out of that mess,” Gabriel said and paused as he thought back to when Jesse had brought her home for the first time, asking for help. He’d never expected to pick up his first kid off the L.A streets let alone a second, but they’d all gotten through it in the end. Somehow. And now he was about to start the whole process over again with a man he thought he’d left behind a long time ago.

Gabriel sighed and pressed a hand to his face.

“Well, if digging up dirt on my college life is keeping her busy,” he mumbled. “I guess I can’t complain.”

“So, it’s true then?”

Gabriel ignored Jesse in favor of returning to his search, though he found nothing on his desk aside from the fallout of a hectic weekend.

“Phone’s on the table if that’s what you’re lookin for,” Jesse said and Gabriel crossed the room to retrieve it. It was nearly dead and flashed with three missed calls and a handful of messages he hadn't noticed earlier.

“Ana called me, said she was lookin to get ahold of ya but had no luck, so don't be surprised if she left a message or two.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Gabriel said but only scanned the missed texts before pocketing his phone. “Looks like Marcia will be dropping in around noon, think you can hold down the fort until then?”

Jesse arched a brow at him and grinned.

“Course I can! It ain’t no problem,” he said but Gabriel wasn’t so sure. He gave Jesse a quick once over, noting again how he hadn’t changed his clothes and was probably running on even less sleep than Gabriel was.

He gave Jesse a questioning look.

“Hey now, have a little faith in me. I can handle the shop just fine. I’ve done it before.”

“Right…” Gabriel didn’t argue with him. He trusted Jesse, there was no question about that, but it felt wrong to leave him to work alone given their current state of exhaustion.

“I’ve already got the Haden party’s stuff around--ya know, with the ugly yellow bridesmaid dresses, so that shouldn’t be a problem and the rest of it’s just answerin phones and takin messages,” Jesse said and rose to his feet with a grunt. “No problem.”

”Yeah, all right. Just don’t over do it.”

Jesse laughed outright and shook his head.

“That’s awfully rich coming from you.”

“I’m serious, Jesse. I don’t want to get a call that you passed out in my shop or something,”Gabriel said and rolled his eyes when Jesse continued to laugh.

“Do ya hear yourself, right now?”

“I’m not joking around. You call me if you need anything,” Gabriel insisted.

“All right, all right, I got it dad,” Jesse said, his laughter interrupted by the sound of a bell jangling in the shop.

Jesse grinned when Ana could be heard calling from the other room and was quick to leave the workroom--and whatever was left of their conversation--behind as he scurried out to meet her.

[ntebook]

survivor’s guilt [1275]

His sister shoved him into their father’s study, glancing over her shoulder before latching the door behind her. Ilia, wide-eyed, trembling and all of five years old clung to her skirts, but Raisa peeled him off with practiced ease and steered him toward the large oak desk. Ilia had crawled under that desk many times, usually to hide from his siblings or sneak a bag of sweets, giggling in triumph until someone came looking. Father had even let him play quietly at his feet, when rainy days kept him indoors. Now, with the lamps unlit and the sounds of gunshot and great beasts roaring outside, it looked less a desk and more a hulking monster in the darkness, waiting to gobble him up.

Raisa, expression grim and determined, walked straight to the desk and began to run her hands over the carved embellishments along its edges. “Come on,” she murmured, “come on, where is it?” Ilia, not sure what “it” was, watched at a wary distance. Ten years his senior, Raisa was probably his favorite sibling. She was practically his second mother— always laughing, always looking out for him. Now, she looked as scared as he was.

Raisa?” Still muttering, his sister ignored him, searching the desk for whatever she was seeking. “Raisa, where’s Nic?” His older brother; Ilia had seen him from the upstairs window, running into the street with sword in hand. “Where are Mama and Papa? Raisa? Raisa!”

“Ilia, please,” she said, in that tone that meant he’d better listen or else. She didn’t look up from her task, but at the mention of their parents Raisa’s face softened. She looked upset, but Ilia was afraid to ask why. “Mama and Papa are fine, and so is Nic. They’re protecting the house.”

“I wanna help, too!” He didn’t know much about guns, but Nic and his father had taught him a lot about swords. Papa even said he could join the Guard, when he was older. That memory brought him courage, and Ilia made for the door; only Raisa’s reflexes stopped him.

“No, Ilia,” she snapped. Her grip on his elbow tightened as she spun him to face her. Watery green eyes met his blue, and any protest he might have been preparing vanished from his mind. “You have to stay here. It’s too dangerous— even for you.” Forcing a smile, Raisa ruffled his hair and went back to work at the desk.

Finally, finally, she must have found it, because a panel Ilia would never have guessed was there slid open. It ran the length of one side, and only a foot or two deep. Without stopping to celebrate, his sister took him by the arm again and led him toward the opening.

“No!” Ilia planted his heels and tugged backwards; the movement was so sudden that he nearly pulled her over. “No, I don’t want to!”

“Ilia! Ilia, listen to me!” Raisa knelt next to him, eyes full to the brim with tears she was trying to fight. “This is very important. I need you to hide in here for a bit, okay? Just for a little while; just ‘til the fighting stops.”

“But I want to stay with you!” Ilia was crying now, too. Raisa pulled him close, kissing the top of his head.

“I know, Ilia, I know,” she whispered. “But for now I need you to do this for me. For Mama and Nic and Papa, too. Can you do that?”

Ilia stared at the secret cubby in the desk. “It’s dark,” he said. “And dirty.”

“And safe,” said Raisa. “You’ll be alright, I promise. Now please?” He sniffled, wiped his face on his sleeve even though Mama would scold him later, and nodded. “Good boy. In you go.” Ilia crawled into the space, trying not to make a face at all the dust and old webs clinging to his clothes. Once inside, he had to tuck his knees up toward his chest to fit. It was a little hard to breathe, but not unbearable.

“Like this?” 

Raisa nodded. “Just like that,” she answered, and Ilia couldn’t help smiling back at her approval. The sounds of fighting in the hallway pulled her attention to the door. With renewed urgency, Raisa pecked him on the cheek and stood. “Whatever you hear, whatever happens, you stay in here until everything’s quiet, okay? We’ll come to get you. Just stay hidden, no matter what.”

“But—”

“No matter what, Ilia.” She smiled once more and started to close the door. “Stay safe, little one. I love you.” Through the final crack of light, he saw her first tears fall. And Ilia couldn’t help it— he cried, too. Over his sobs, he heard her cross to the door, heard the latch turn; then the door banged open so hard it bounced off the wall behind it.

“Found one!” An unfamiliar voice shattered the quiet of the study. Ilia frowned, his nose scrunching in disgust. Papa would have been mad at all the noise. Curiosity overcame fear, and Ilia pushed the panel open just a crack. He couldn’t see the door from this angle, but the opening made the voices clearer. Now he was certain he didn’t know this person, or the new voice that joined the first.

“Is it the son?”

“No, just the daughter.” He heard the sound of a scuffle, then Raisa’s shriek

“Let go of me!”

Ilia nearly jumped from his hiding place then and there, but a moment later gunshot rang through the study. Something thumped to the floor before the desk; something with auburn hair and his sister’s hands. He could still see the magic fading from her fingertips, brilliant orange and utterly useless. Ilia stifled a cry with his hands and shrank back into the desk, every inch of his body trembling. 

“Bitch tried to light me up!” growled the second voice.

“Thought only the lizard-y ones breathed fire,” remarked the second. “Shame— brat was a looker. Don’t care if she’s young, bet she woulda—”

"Are you daft?” Ilia heard a dull thump: a fist striking a shoulder. “She’s one of them. Probably woulda eaten you alive.” A pause, then, “Come on, before the big one comes back.”

“Ain’t right, killin’ kids…” muttered the first.

“They ain’t kids,” said the second, but now their voices were moving away and Ilia could barely make it out. “They’re…”

He waited until the room had been silent for a good while before he let himself believe they were gone. Even still, Ilia didn’t dare move. He almost didn’t dare to breathe. Through the crack in the panel door he could still see his sister, lying stiller than the deepest sleep. Raisa, beautiful, terrifying, loving, laughing Raisa— she was gone. No… She’d been taken. Those men had taken her away and he’d done nothing to stop it. He’d never even seen their faces. Ilia had been a good little boy and done exactly as she’d asked, and now she was dead. 

He could be next.

Ilia slid the panel shut. He didn’t want to look anymore. He would wait; Nic would come find him. His parents would come for him— he could hear one of them roaring outside the house, but it was too muffled inside the desk to tell who it was. They’d come back, and as Mama held him he’d tell them about the desk, and Raisa, and how scared he’d been and how he knew exactly how loud gunfire was in a quiet room— 

The boy pulled himself into a tighter ball and tried to block out the world. Eventually he learned to ignore the gunshots and the screams, the crackling of distant dragon fire, and he fell into a fitful sleep.

[daveinediting]

Let’s start here: if non-linear editing had existed in the early 90s as it does now, I probably wouldn’t’ve had the opportunity to edit like I did for Small World Productions. There wouldn’t have been the need, you see. And without that line on my resume, if other professionals didn’t know I had the editing chops (even basic ones), I might never have gotten the opportunities at the University of Washington’s Instructional Media Services where I was firmly and only a production assistant.

In order to understand how profound is the difference between non-linear and linear editing, well... buckle up. I’m gonna take us through what used to be, for small production companies, the process.

Lemme tee it up for you:

The credit card processing work I did for Small World Productions started in 1991, the year the first season of "Travels in Europe with Rick Steves" aired. Season two aired in 1993 so production and post-production would've happened in 1992. And I think it's during that year I was asked if I could join the post-production effort as an assistant editor.

At this time in the history of editing, finished programs for broadcast were completed in edit suites that were outfitted with multiple types (and various levels of super expensive) record decks and playback decks, multi-channel mixing boards, digital video effects boxes, character generators for name keys, titles, and credits... and plenty of other technical goodies necessary for the creation of broadcast programs meeting both quality and technical standards. All of that technical wonderment (including the editor who made every bit of gear in the edit suite work) came at a steep hourly rate. For this reason, producers who had to treat their budgets, you know, seriously... took to creating rough edits on basic, relatively inexpensive equipment, often just two video decks. Now these decks could be VHS, S-VHS, or Betacam. What was necessary regardless of the deck you used was a tape copy of your original footage with timecode displayed on the screen. That way, you could do your rough edit, write down the start and ending timecodes of all your edits and then take that stack of papers to the expensive edit suite where the editor would use those numbers, those edit decisions, to create the final version of the show complete with transitions, effects, titles, graphics, animations, music, sound mixing, and technical quality control. 

At the time, this was the fastest and most cost-effective way to move a show through to completion for broadcast. The expensive edit suite was called "Online". The basic one in which you could take your time making edit decisions was called "Offline".

Now, Small World Productions had an offline suite in the basement of a friend's house. It had two Betacam decks, one a playback machine, the other a playback/record machine. Both were controlled from the front panel of the playback/record deck with which you could switch control from one deck to the other, set your in and out edit points for either deck, choose to edit video or audio or both, preview edits, and record them. The playback/record deck also came with a jog/shuttle knob...

...that you used for slower, more controlled fast forwarding where you could still see video playback (shuttle)... or you could use it to move forward or back one frame at a time (jog).

Okay.

At Small World Productions, the process was for the offline editor in collaboration with the producer to edit a show onto a single tape. Of course that wasn’t the final word on the cuts they produced offline. The shows also called for dissolves, a fading from one video source to another. To do that, however, required two source decks and two source tapes, an A-roll and a B-Roll, that would play in synchronization during an edit as the dissolve was executed through a video switcher that controlled which video sources went to the master tape and how. So every show Small World produced in their offline edit suite actually required two tapes for eventual online editing. Which is where I came in.

First, of course, my job was to create the edit decision list, all those individual shot choices that were made during the offline edit. There was a preprinted form for this that required me to write down, in order, the timecode in and out points for each shot (which was displayed bottom center of each shot) and to write down the timecode in and out points on the master tape (which was displayed on the record deck timecode display. This effort produced the edit decision list that would be used in the online edit suite. The one with the steep hourly rate.

After that meticulous documenting effort, the next step was to, essentially, re-cut the show. Only this time from the original footage (not the copies with timecode on the screen). Plus, the show had to be edited to two different tapes according to the offline editor's dissolve choices. I'd start from edit number one on the list and record every edit to the A roll until a dissolve was indicated on the script. I'd make sure to add enough extra video to the last shot on the A roll to accommodate the indicated dissolve duration, usually a second or a second-and-a-half. Then I'd eject the A roll, insert the B-Roll and forward it to the corresponding timecode for the next edit and continue from there. Back and forth. Back and forth. Until I reached the final edit of the show.

That was the gig.

And like that! I was an assistant editor. 

The equipment I already knew how to work and the rest was a variation on painting by numbers as taught to me by John, my boss and principal editor for the series. 

For me, the process was essentially creating a player piano roll with the edit decision list standing in for the piano roll. But mostly (and most importantly) what it was... was a detailed exploration of an actual editor's thinking process, of how such shows as these are constructed edit by edit from the ground up. It was invaluable training. It was serious hands-on that might as well've been called "How To Edit A Half Hour Travel Show". Like, exactly how.

And you bet I soaked in that experience. It's what informed my eventual and first incarnation as an editor myself. 

But that was still to come.

We're definitely gonna get into that... however, next time we'll pick the story up on a lake in Denmark. It’s my first memory of identifying myself as an editor. And — SPOILER ALERT — it's not clear to me at this point why on earth I woulda done that.

But it’s a clear sign of where I was in my career at the time. At least...

In my own head.

:-)

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #223

Tues Apr 27 2020 [09:18 PM] Wack'd: And so the Four, plus Agatha and Gabriel, are off in the Pogo Plane to New Salem, in order to undo Nicholas Scratch's possession of Franklin. [09:19 PM] Wack'd: Who?! Who calls you that?!

[09:19 PM] Bocaj: His barber [09:19 PM] Umbramatic: the narrator apparently [09:20 PM] Wack'd: There are other "here's how the crew is doing" panels but they're all roughly what you'd expect. Ben angry, Sue determined, Reed thinking, Agatha contemplating fate [09:21 PM] Bocaj: Shake it up, the fantastic four [09:21 PM] Wack'd: Johnny musing on how he's never seen Reed and Sue this intense before besides the thirteen other times he's never seen them this intense before [09:21 PM] Bocaj: Pfft [09:22 PM] Wack'd: Reed and Sue have a moment where Sue gets kinda weepy and Reed reassures her that he'll do everything he can [09:23 PM] Bocaj: Shake it up, the fantastic four book [09:24 PM] Wack'd: How have these fuckers not been consigned to the dustbin of history already

[09:24 PM] maxwellelvis: Because Scratch hasn't yet. [09:25 PM] Wack'd: Even if I concede there are some cool designs, which...eh?... this is the first sign of personality they've exhibited in like three storylines [09:25 PM] Umbramatic: i'm a sucker for nagas but i dunno how to feel about the snake arms

[09:25 PM] maxwellelvis: Gazelle looks a little less Marge Simpson-y this time. [09:26 PM] Wack'd: The lack of yellow skin helps [09:26 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Nick possesses the lion dude and recruits them back into his dark army [09:27 PM] Wack'd: And reveals his master plan, which is to bring back the...essence???...of the Dark Realm to torment humanity [09:27 PM] maxwellelvis: I too am puzzled at how many reappearances these glorified minibosses are getting. [09:27 PM] Bocaj: That’s how I feel about zodiac [09:27 PM] Bocaj: In avengers [09:28 PM] Wack'd: I think seven is too many distinct henchpeople for a villain to have, also, especially in a team book and especially if they're always gonna be a group [09:28 PM] Wack'd: Like there's so much wacky happening here but it just kind of cancels out back to boring [09:28 PM] maxwellelvis: And I do mean glorified because the law of conservation of ninjutsu means they should not have handled the Four as easily as they have in the past. [09:29 PM] Aleph Null: @Wack'd the seven deadly sins? [09:29 PM] Wack'd: The Salem Seven [09:29 PM] maxwellelvis: I could understand that if they had to fight them all one at a time in a series of progressing battles up a tower, but [09:29 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Nick possesses the folks guarding the Seven's cell and lets them out [09:30 PM] Bocaj: I could get behind a shonen style tower climb mini boss squad fight [09:30 PM] Wack'd: Dude seems to be getting a lot of mileage out of possession and it's making me wonder why he even needs a physical form? Though I guess that's not really his goal since he's doing the whole "release the essence of the Dark Realm" thing [09:30 PM] Wack'd: Still though he doesn't seem particularly weaker in this form than he did on earth. He might as well have never been banished at all [09:31 PM] Bocaj: You had one job with several distinct tasks under it, Agatha! [09:31 PM] Wack'd: The Seven, now free, decide they have some free time before the plot kicks in and decide to torture some civilians for shits and giggles [09:32 PM] Wack'd: Really just Nick used to establish what everybody's shtick is with some actual breathing room, which, y'know, finally, but one row of panels each is not a lot [09:33 PM] Wack'd: Vakume (the solid grey one) makes a tornado that sucks air out of everyone's lungs [09:33 PM] Aleph Null: that doesn't sound right but i don't know enough about wind physics to say otherwise [09:33 PM] Wack'd: It's magic, they don't have to explain it [09:33 PM] Aleph Null: ...then why is the tornado necessary? why not just cast a fuck you no breathing spell? [09:33 PM] maxwellelvis: STYLE [09:33 PM] Wack'd: Looks cool [09:33 PM] Wack'd: But not cool enough to screencap [09:33 PM] Wack'd: Vertigo (the Pam Grier one) uh...gives everyone vertigo [09:34 PM] Bocaj: Ah like Zaheer [09:34 PM] Wack'd: Actually I guess that's it because we cut back to the Four [09:36 PM] Wack'd: This is a perfectly prefunctionary, even good, "Ben knows what it's like to be othered" speech, but I'm losing it at it being deployed in defense of Baby's First Dungeons & Dragons Character

[09:38 PM] Wack'd: And I can make that joke because my first Dungeons & Dragons character, before orc vampire and dragonborn stage magician, was in fact a mysterious loner with strange powers who keeps to the shadows. I know from whence I speak [09:38 PM] Umbramatic: pffft [09:38 PM] Umbramatic: i don't think mine was that weird [09:38 PM] Wack'd: I am deliberately and specifically not saying it's weird [09:38 PM] Wack'd: It is super boring [09:39 PM] Bocaj: I’ve been thinking the whole time [09:39 PM] Bocaj: Is this just nick fury doing Dresden larp? [09:39 PM] Wack'd: It is, I assume, everyone's first Dungeons & Dragons character [09:41 PM] Wack'd: Anyway I looked up Gabriel--sorry, *Devil Hunter*--to see if I should bother caring about him. Turns out he's not a new character, but the lead in a short-lived magazine-format book from the mid-70s called *Haunt of Horror*. [09:41 PM] maxwellelvis: I went with Eberk, because clerics were busted as shit in 3.5e [09:41 PM] Wack'd: Written by--and you might wanna sit down for this--Doug Moench. [09:42 PM] Bocaj: Ha [09:42 PM] maxwellelvis: No. Say it ain't so. [09:42 PM] Mousa The 14: Of course [09:43 PM] Wack'd: These two Fantastic Four issues are his first appearances since then, and his last for twelve years before he briefly resurfaces as a recurring Hellstorm supporting character in the early 90s. [09:44 PM] Umbramatic: wow [09:44 PM] Mousa The 14: “I mean, we have the IP, we may as well use him!” “Yeah, but why tho?” [09:44 PM] Wack'd: He has since the only been seen in Marvel encyclopedias. [09:44 PM] Umbramatic: welp [09:45 PM] Bocaj: I still think he’s larp Nick Fury [09:45 PM] Wack'd: Fair [09:46 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, the team arrives in New Salem, where Scratch reappears inside Franklin to say more mean stuff. [09:46 PM] Wack'd: I would assume he's been quiet because he's been busy possessing loads of other people, but no, Gabriel is important

[09:47 PM] Wack'd: Johnny then feels bad for writing him off as a moody loner cliché since he was actually doing shit apparently [09:47 PM] Mousa The 14: Good grief, what a joke [09:48 PM] maxwellelvis: Why's he EMOTING so hard in that second panel? [09:50 PM] Wack'd: (Oh if anyone cares the red haired lady who placed the cryptic phone call is also from Haunt of Horrors and also appears in Hellstorm's 90s book. She dies) [09:50 PM] Mousa The 14: As women do apparently [09:50 PM] Wack'd: Back to the story at hand. It is time for a fight scene [09:51 PM] Wack'd: And then a capture scene [09:51 PM] Wack'd: It's a good thing this book has so much dumb minutia in it or I woulda been done half an hour ago [09:52 PM] Wack'd: So the team is placed on an alter and Franklin's powers are used to bring forth the Dark Realm [09:53 PM] Aleph Null: this is a fantastic four comic right? [09:53 PM] Aleph Null: just checking [09:53 PM] Wack'd: Yeah but this is not terribly off spec for them [09:53 PM] maxwellelvis: Yes [09:54 PM] maxwellelvis: Also we were still in the middle of the Satanic Panic at the time. [09:54 PM] Wack'd: Fantastic Four doesn't really have a consistent tone or manner of threat. They're from the 60s, they'll do whatever [09:55 PM] Wack'd: Gabriel and Agatha use their combined power to turn the Four into a literal love bomb to defeat Nick Scratch's hate

[09:56 PM] Aleph Null: My Little Superheroes: Friendship Is Magic [09:57 PM] Wack'd: This is a nice scene but I'd be a lot more convinced if Nick Scratch didn't try to murder Agatha gruesomely every previous time he appeared

[09:58 PM] Wack'd:

Ben: That wuz the easiest fight we ever had...and it wuz the best weapon we coulda used.

[09:59 PM] maxwellelvis: "We contributed the bare minimum to our own story!" [09:59 PM] Wack'd:

Agatha: Nicholas, you must be punished...severely. I hav erred on the sign of leniency in the past.

[09:59 PM] Wack'd: agatha you banished him to a nightmare dimension but okay [09:59 PM] Mousa The 14: Yeah but she didn’t kill him [10:00 PM] Mousa The 14: They’re magic people, nightmare dimension is really more if a time out for ‘em [10:00 PM] Wack'd: Honestly the "Dark Realm" was originally called "the World Beyond Worlds" [10:00 PM] Wack'd: So I assumed it was a Yu-Gi-Oh "Shadow Realm" thing until this story [10:01 PM] Wack'd: And so Nicholas' punishment is to become like the humans he so despised [10:02 PM] Wack'd: And Agatha decides to stay behind to be an ambassador to her people on behalf of non-magic folks to maybe cut down on future genocide attempts [10:03 PM] Wack'd: 

[10:03 PM] Bocaj: Awwwww.....www?? [10:04 PM] Wack'd: Even as the modern age creeps closer, silent panels are still kind of a rarity [10:04 PM] Wack'd: It's smart to deploy one here [10:04 PM] maxwellelvis: "Hey, how 'bout a little sugar for Gabriel?" [10:04 PM] Umbramatic: awwww [10:05 PM] Wack'd: He just kinda...vanishes [10:05 PM] Wack'd: Reed assures us he probably has his own way home [10:05 PM] maxwellelvis: He doesn't need the company of people with no sugar for him. [10:05 PM] Bocaj: Pfft